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FM17: The Life and Opinions of Jakub Słota, Football Manager


Rikulec

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Just when I thought I was out... they pull me back in.

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Let's start this one with a quick exercise. Try to imagine the worst hangover you've ever had in your life. You know which one I'm talking about. The one when you felt you'd rather take the easy way out than experience another second of the excruciating pain. The one when the grass was growing way too loudly. The one when you tried to turn your head, but your brain remained straight. Yup, that's the one.

It's nothing when you compare it to what Jakub Słota felt, lying face down in a God-knows-where somewhere on planet Earth. Or at least he suspected it was still planet Earth. With the way things had gone beforehand, he couldn't even be sure of that anymore.

Last time he remembered, he was sent to Sweden by the company that employed him for whatever reason. Something connected with international networking or something along these lines. Integration was a key word there. And as a proud Polish man he knew everything about integration. Well, that was what he had thought prior to meeting his integration companions.

The Swede was just a regular-looking Swedish guy. Tall, with long blonde hair, he looked like someone who could lead a nascent ABBA-inspired ultras group, or possibly write a tactical blog about liberos and strikerless systems. The weird thing about him was a strange obsession with apples and grapefruits, but Jakub could live with that. He had met many weirdos before. This guy wasn't really anything extraordinary, compared to some of his old mates from the coaching courses. Those were the days...

And then there was the black guy. A strangely dressed fat midget with grey hair. Now that was interesting. Jakub knew Sweden was a very open, liberal country that respected and promoted diversity. But this? This was something else. There was some eerie vibe surrounding that guy. Of course, Jakub didn't want to suspect any tribal black magic or other such things - that would be racist. The secret of the midget would have to remain exactly that - a secret.

As long as vodka was involved, everything was perfectly under control. The company spent the first three bottles discussing the advantages and disadvantages of inverted wing backs in cooperation with an enganche, covered by an anchor man paired with a regista in the defensive midfield strata. Apples. Grapefruits. Triangles. Arguing about the possibility of Swaziland becoming a football superpower within the next 20 years. A truly wonderful conversation.

But then things went out of hand. The Swede had more in store than he dared admit at first. He said it was some sort of a local special. What he pulled out of his jacket looked like a mana potion from your typical role-playing game - a small glass bottle with a blue-ish liquid inside. Jakub thought there was a strange faint glow coming from it, but it could have as well been the effect of excessive alcohol consumption. And then the Swede picked him. "Drink it", he said. "Drink it all".

From then on, Jakub's memories turned from a continuous narrative into a vague collection of images. Numerous attempts to sing the Argentinian side San Lorenzo's chants in Spanish. Posing shirtless next to the Zlatan Ibrahimovic statue outside the Malmö stadium. Trying to escape from the White Lady chasing him around a cemetery at night. Or was that a policewoman? Could have been. And then the fat midget... oh no.

All of a sudden, Jakub was pulled away from his daydream by a very real voice coming from somewhere above him.

"Oi! Ye ge' off me lawn, ye loosy ****!"

It was a reflex. He quickly turned onto his back and tried to face wherever the sound was coming from. And he immediately regretted it. An overwhelming wave of pain came simultaneously with the sight of two people standing next to their house's kitchen door. A bald, middle-aged man with a beer belly and a serious deficit of teeth. Beside him, an eleven or twelve-year-old boy, peeking shyly from behind his father's back at the stranger in their garden.

"An' ye, Bobby, go to ye room, now!"

And then there was darkness.

***

Hello there. As you can see, this is something different to what I've done before. It's probably obvious where my inspiration came from - it's high time I caught up with the new trends in the careers section. The concept of the save is the same as last time round - this time I'll be starting either in Scottish League Two or Vanarama South as I don't want to do exactly the same stuff as with FC United in the same league. No applying for jobs, and I'll be starting with the Continental Pro Licence so as not to impact my reputation in an unrealistic way throughout the game. From now on, it's all about the actual achievements. The game setup is as follows.

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The goal is simple - achieve as much as possible, become the best in the world, blah, blah, blah. You've seen it a million times. Let's get to it.

 

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It was like riding a bike. Only the bike was on fire and the ground was on fire and everything was on fire because it was hell.

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Nothing could have prepared Jakub for what he would experience in the north of England. His adventure started with waking up in someone's backyard on the outskirts of Leeds. After passing out just for a brief moment, he woke up to the side of the fat toothless man standing right above him and grabbing him by his T-shirt. And then the man proceeded to beat the living crap out of him, accompanied by his son cheering and yelling out what seemed to be insults in a strange dialect vaguely resembling the English language. He also carried on when his father was quite literally kicking Jakub out of the house and into the hungry mouth of the city of Leeds.

No documents, cash, or phone in his pocket, Jakub trudged to a nearby park. Holding his head with both hands, he slowly rested his buttocks on a bench, trying to gather thoughts.

The potion. The ****ing potion.

Whatever it was, it must have been pretty strong stuff. Strong enough to make him lose consciousness in Sweden and wake up in bloody England. Not to mention the impact it had on his body while wearing off. For a brief moment Jakub wondered what happened to his companions. Did they drink the potion as well? He couldn't remember. Judging by the situation, there were plenty of things he couldn't remember. For some reason he thought about a grapefruit.

And then he was hit by something he had never experienced in his life before.

It was like an inner voice suddenly awakening from a thirty-year sleep. It was much more than a hunch. It felt like a higher calling. Something that told him, "Are you going to sit here all day? You need to sort yourself out. Ask someone for help, or whatever".

Only it wasn't Jakub's voice in his head. It came both from the inside and from the outside at the same time. He had no idea who was speaking to him, but he was sure it wasn't himself.

The ****ing potion. Maybe it hasn't worn off yet after all. Maybe he still had the superpowers which apparently allowed him to teleport between countries.

He was hit by a warming wave of strength. Suddenly he didn't feel hungover or hurt at all. The drinking, the beating he had just been given. They didn't matter. What mattered was pulling himself together. Step by step.

Only it wasn't easy. Failures didn't discourage him, but the inability to communicate with people in what he believed was standard English language kept setting him back. He wandered around without a real destination in his mind. He was so deeply concerned with his mission that he forgot that a human being had to eat and drink from time to time. Or was it still the potion?

At the end of the day he ended up in Armley.

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On 25.05.2017 at 21:44, ManUtd1 said:

Brilliant start -- can't wait to see where this goes!

 

On 29.05.2017 at 07:22, DodgeeD said:

Great beginning (I also have plans to catch up with latest forum trends for my next thread so I'll be following to plagiarise ideas for inspiration)

Looking forward to the adventure!

 

On 29.05.2017 at 15:49, Bitner said:

Another career? Count me in! :p

Cheers,
Bitner 

 

Thanks guys, much appreciated. :thup:

On 28.05.2017 at 20:19, Guimy said:

Did someone mention strikerless?

:brock:

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