A long journey

[Mr_Demus]

Some small info at first:

1) This is my first ever story. I would greatly appreciate any kind of feedback

2) I'll be playing FM 2016 with winter transfer update. I will load the top leagues from England, France, Germany, Spain, Italy and all the leagues from my country of choice

3) Updates will come when I have the time

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Part I: Prologue

Chapter 1:

”Sometimes life hits you in the face with all it has. You have to be ready and brace for impact. I didn’t…”

I have always been a talented footballer. “You’ll amount to something”, “you’ll do great things”, “you’ll be a champion” they used to say. Stuff like that was part of my life as well as breathing, eating and sleeping. It felt good. No, it felt GREAT. The sensation of scoring the winning goal yet again, that feeling you get when getting past the best defender, nothing can compare to the rush you get. At least not for me. Football was my life back then. It still is, but in a much different way. I’ll tell you about that later on.

My parents brought me up with love, but also with great ambition. My father was a doctor and my mother worked at an insurance company. She had played volleyball for the national team, and my dad had worked hard to get where he was. They didn’t want to see their only child fall to mediocracy. He should be the best he ever could. In many ways, this was what drove me forward but also into the darkness. Failure was not an option. Not a valid one at least.

They supported me. Showed up at every game and cheered me on. Also when I didn’t do well. But their cheers were different when I scored or when I did great, so I learned to chase that moment at every possible time.

[mark wilson27]

Welcome to FMS MR Demus. A good opening post and as we always say here if you enjoy writing your story it comes across to us. Never feel rushed to post updates.

Will be following your journey mate

[Mr_Demus]

Chapter 2:

I did well in academic endeavours as well. I got good grades. I could be anything I wanted, but I only wanted one thing: To play football and I did so at any possible moment. I played at school with the other boys, after school, in our yard, on my way home from school with a rock for ball, in my room with a crumpled up piece of paper. My room was covered wall to wall with posters of all my heroes: Maradona, Platini, Völler, Laudrup and many more. Everyone was one my wall both due to admiration, and as a reminder that I should and would become better than all of them. I was going to be the greatest.

I played for several youth national teams, and was wooed by a number of big clubs from my home country Switzerland as well as the neighbouring ones. Not a common sight back then, but a testament to my skill it was.

Perhaps I owe to tell you by now, that I am Swiss. My name is Sebastian Rotenbüchler, and I was going to be the best midfielder the world had ever seen.

[Mr_Demus]

Chapter 3:

Pierre passed to ball to me in the midfield. I looked up. Plenty of defenders ahead of me, but a narrow channel was visible. Visible to me at least. I started dribbling. Left, right, slotted past a stunned defender. Nutmegged another. Caressed the ball with my right foot as I took it for a stroll toward success. Scouts from Marseille, Monaco, Lausanne, Grasshoppers, Dortmund, Köln and several other football greats were all in the stands, taking notes and looking at me. Pierre was decent, Timo could certainly get somewhere if he worked hard but I was the main attraction, the star of the show. I gently lifted the ball into the corner. My second goal of the day. We were 2-0 up and the scouts scribbled like madmen on their notepads.

Once again, I got the ball. I looked to do something astounding this time as well. I took a few steps towards a towering defender, who I had made look like a fool all afternoon. This time I decided to take it easy on him, and also show the scouts that I was a team player. I sent the ball to my right towards Thomas. I didn’t notice the brick wall of a man lunging towards me in a ferocious attack. I felt the agonizing pain in my shin as the huge defender hit me with his boot. I fell to the ground. It was wet and it soaked my shirt and everything, but I felt nothing. Nothing but the worst pain I had ever felt, and have yet to feel to this day. The world was in slow motion, when the physios, coaches and teammates rushed towards me. My head was flat on the ground and my eyes were lifeless. Was this it? There was some pushing and shoving going on, a red card was shown bad words were flying, but nothing mattered. I was carted off the field to the standing applause of the spectators. It meant nothing. I could feel nothing.

[tenthreeleader]

Glad to have you here! I hope you enjoy your stay and your writing as well. Looking forward to seeing where you take your tale!

[Mr_Demus]

Chapter 4:

“It’s over, he will never play again”. The words were stuck in my head, repeated themselves and sucked the life out of me like a cluster of ticks on a deer. It had been 3 years since the fatal match. The scars on my knee were still there as a painful reminder of that one day in April, where everything should have been so good, but ended up spiralling me into a seemingly bottomless abyss of darkness. I took another sip from the bottle in front of me. This was my life now. I couldn’t hold a steady job, so I sat on my p*ss stain soaked couch and tried to replace the liquor in the bottles with my remaining spirit.

The calendar on my desk still said ’94, even though we were well into ’95. I hadn’t watched the World Cup. Even though I was only 19 at the time, I should have featured and been a major part of the Swiss team. I couldn’t bear to watch players worse than me represent my country and harvest the glory that came with it. Bregy and Bickel. Bah! I was way better than them. Or, at least I would have been, had that giant lump of meat not lacked every coordination skill in existence.

My apartment smelled like old food, mould, p*ss, vomit and a lot of other things that I didn’t know what was and didn’t wish to know.

At this point, I had lost everyone in my life. My father had died in a car crash in ’93, and I couldn’t stand the sight of my mother trying to get a hold of her life without her boys. I felt she was actually better off without also having to cope with me. One person came by occasionally though. My old coach Michael. Mike visited me to check in on me, bring me decent food from time to time and to try to convince me to get up from the couch. I was grateful, but certainly didn’t show.

I took a big swill, coughed and went back to sleep. If I was lucky, I may never wake up again.

[Mr_Demus]

Chapter 5:

The ’96 Euros was the noise in the background as I tried to sleep off yet another hangover. I couldn’t sleep. Partially due to the heat and partially due to the stench that was my body odour. I scratched my long beard. I couldn’t remember when was the last time a had a shower and a shave. I didn’t bother with that. Alcohol was my friend. Not hygiene. There was a heavy knock at the door. “Go away” I shouted as I turned to the other side to get some sleep. A knock again. This time heavier. “GO AWAY”, my voice was more forceful this time. I wouldn’t let this ******* ruin my nap. A third knock. Whoever it was didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. I dragged myself from the couch, through a forest of food containers, empty bottles and other pieces of memorabilia from my miserable existence. I opened the door. It was Mike. “This has gone on long enough” he said, “I can’t just watch you kill yourself in this way”. He hurled something at me, and I tried to avoid it, but was reflexes were non-existent due to alcohol. It hit me in the face. It felt soft and smelled of detergent. “Change” Mike ordered. It was a tracksuit. “We are getting you into shape, and back into the world.” I sighed heavily and vomited all over my floor and Mike’s shoes. Mike was a determined guy. Unfortunately.

[Mr_Demus]

Chapter 6:

The whistle blew and the crowd went wild. I raised my arms, and rushed to congratulate my players. Benjamin hugged me and smiled, Talent looked at me with the biggest grin on his face, “what a win, coach” he shouted as Tom jumped on his back. A journalist approached me.

“Herr Rotenbüchler?! Joseph Stengler from 20 minuten. Do you have a minute?”

“Keep it short,” I said in a friendly tone, “The team and I have some celebration to do”

“Of course.” He smiled. “Two Under 21 cup wins in a row, and now an Under 21 championship. Surely they can’t keep you in Zürich much longer?”

I had thought of it. I really enjoyed coaching the future star players of FC Zürich, but I needed more. A senior team would feel so good.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” I answered him in a very neutral tone, not giving away hints towards my future. To be honest, I didn’t know what it would bring, but odds were, that they weren’t in Zürich. Mike, who was now my agent, had already answered several calls, e-mails and informal questions, but this would make me even more interesting. I knew that it wasn’t going to be Basel or Grasshoppers calling, but less could do the trick, I just needed a stepping stone towards greatness.

My train of thoughts was interrupted by something ramming into my legs.

“Papa!” She yelled “Congratulations.” Rebecca looked up at me with a smile made up by missing teeth. Eva followed shortly after with Johannes on her right arm. She smiled and gave me peck on the cheek. “Good job, Sebbi,” she said sweetly, “I guess you won’t be home for dinner?” She chuckled. She was beautiful when she laughed, and she was genuinely happy for me, but also worried. We had talked about me getting a new job, but with Rebecca doing well in school and with her friends, and herself being very happy in her job, she was worried what the future might have in store for us. I saw the concern on her face, and ensured her. “Don’t worry love. It’ll be alright.” She smiled at me, grabbed Rebecca by the hand and led her towards the exit. “Enjoy your headache,” she shouted.

Mike came towards me and gave me a big hug. He was the reason I was here at all. If not for Mike, I’d be dead.

“My phone will be very busy tomorrow,” he grinned.

“Let’s hope so,” I said to him, as the boys dragged me away for a victory lap around the ground.

[Mr_Demus]

Part II: The beginning of a long journey

Chapter 1:

The weeks went on, and still no interesting job offers. A couple of uninteresting ones and some who never called back.

“Perhaps it was a mistake resigning,” I sighed as I took a sip of my coffee.

Eva was making pancakes; Johannes sat in his chair and mangled a piece of bread and Rebecca was playing in her room. Eva looked at me from behind the stove.

“Something will come up,” she said to me in a reassuring voice.

“They should have contacted me by now. Almost every realistic job opportunity has been filled. Wintherthur, Biel and so on, all of the jobs that I ever had a hope of getting aren’t there anymore.” I took a bite of my toast and another mouthful of coffee.

Rebecca came into the kitchen. “Papa, your phone rang, so I answered it,” she said as she handed it to me. “My own little secretary.” I gave a smile and a pat on the head.

“Sebastian.” It was Mike. “I just had an interesting conversation,” he said before pausing. I waited.

“Who was it?” I asked him, and Eva stopped her pancake flipping.

“It’s erm…not what we expected, but I think you should give it a chance, or at least hear me out” Mike said. Job offer, I mouthed to Eva, and she nodded in agreement.

He continued: “It’s a real make-or-break job. Something that could be a shortcut towards bigger things, or an easy way back to square one. The pay is decent – more than you make now, you could stay in Zürich and the expectations would be very reasonable. I seriously think you should take this job.”

“Just tell me!” I half shouted into the phone. Johannes started crying. Eva looked at me in a mix of disapproval and curiosity.