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(FM19) Dario Argento presents: 'Saving Football 2: Vivere e Frodare in Italia'

Deisler26

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Deisler26

Deisler26

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Image result for italian football federation logo

SAVING FOOTBALL 2

*Voiceover* 

"...Back in the mists of time, in 2015, a man by name of Hakan ran a small, exclusive coaching academy in the South of France. Before his glory days (see @ManUtd1's excellent thread), he was nothing more than the head of the Académie des Fraudes. He had a few disciples, men who had travelled far and wide to learn the ween ways.

Eventually, he could teach them nothing more and abandoned them as he set out to make his fortune. Those pupils gathered around and realised they could outdo the master in following the Youth Only philosophy. They made their way out, under cover of night, and set about conquering France from the inside..."

 

However, one year on and things looked very different. Hakan himself had set up a satellite academy in the rich and verdant Tuscan hills. Learning from his previous failures, he no longer decreed that Youth Only would be his calling card, only the starting in Serie D.. He'd even placed a discreet ad in La Gazzetta Dello Sport.

"DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BE FRAUDLENT? SIGN UP HERE!...sponsored by @B.W.G"

And his French proteges? Well, they were a completely different kettle of fish... 

Invading Italy were...

@Deisler26 - Santarcangelo Calcio 1926

@Makoto Nakamura - Clodiense Chioggia

@BoxToBox - Calcio Avelino S.S.D

@B.W.G - San Marino Calcio

@noikeee - Modena FC 2018

@ToMexico!! - Gela Calcio

@MarcxD - U.S Savoia 1908

@smp20 - AC Locri 1909

@deltablue - Como 1907

@wynter - Bustese Milano City FC

@Peter G - Cassino Calcio

@Bartrcm - A.S.D Mezzolara

@Benjoe - U.S Arezzo

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Deisler26

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"Urrghh....."

He lifted his head groggily from the wooden table, his saliva forming a tight seal between cheek and wood, which made an unpleasant sucking noise
as it was forcibily parted.

"What..?"

He looked around. Sunlight was beaming into what appeared to be a homely little kitchen. And also directly into his eyes. "Jesus..", he scrabbled on
the table and his hand closed over something that felt like sunglasses. He put them on and the world fell into blessed shade. His head felt
like both Donald Trump and Kim Jong Il had declared war on it and fired their entire stack of nukes, timed to land perfectly when he opened his eyes..

As his eyes gradually came into focus, he noticed an empty bottle on the table. "Galiano? You bastard.." What was he even THINKING, drinking that? He raised
his hand rub his bald head, an automatic reaction that was barely noticed. What wasn't barely noticed was the fact that 1) his hand was covered in gauze, the 
rough feel of the cotton scraping and abrasive against his luxurious ha..2) he had hair. What the actual hell??

He leapt up in panic, wondering what happened to him. His legs then buckled and he fell to the floor as the second wave of the Axis of Orange's hangover missiles struck home
and detonated. "F**king why?!?!" he wondered aloud, sobbing..

He pushed himself up onto all fours, panting. Both hands were covered in gauze. What had happened? Had he become a drunken burns victim? WHAT? Ignoring the pain as he rose,
he unsteadily got to his feet. Bad move. A stomach contents worth of Galiano made an exit onto the stone-tiled floor. "F**k" he spat. Urgh, and now it was all over the bandages
covering his fac...his face. He bolted for the toilet. Only to realise, he had no idea where the toilet was. Tears came to his eyes. He didn't know if it was the situation or
the stench of vomit on the bandages that was causing it. 

Suddenly, he felt a vibration on his leg and strains of 'Inno di Mameli' filled his ears. The Italian national anthem? But, what? He fumbled the phone out of his pocket, but couldn't
answer the call, the gauze preventing the touchscreen from activating. The unknown number kept ringing and ringing. In frustration, he yelled "I just want to answer the f*cking phone, Jesus".
With that, the phone answered in it's reassuring robotic voice "Answering Call. Speaker."

"Hello?", a gruff voice thundered out of the phone. What was that voice? He knew that voice. He dredged up a memory from the shards of glass that made up his brain currently..
"Hakan?.."
"Of course it's me, you oaf" he thundered
"What..I mean, why, I mean, what is this??" Panic mixed with some relief in his voice
"I knew you'd drink the whole bottle. I mean, I left it for a celebatory drink, but I bet you've drunk it all. And I'm guessing you've chucked your guts up and are getting weepy that
you have no idea what's going on"
"What? No, no, not at all.."
"The bathroom is on the first door on the left. I'll call back in an hour" and with that, Hakan hung up

He opened the bathroom door. As the neon light flared and caused him to blink, he saw a pair of long-bladed scissors, some painkillers and a glass of water next to the wash basin. Fu*king Hakan, he
already set this up. He set to work, cutting the gauze on his hands, and then the stinking bandages on his face before throwing the whole mess in the bin. Before he looked in the mirror, however, he dumped
the painkillers into the glass and drank deeply. Codeine, he mused, that'll help. His eyes travelled up to the mirror.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH"

He screamed. WHO THE F**K WAS THAT STARING AT HIM?? 

And as if that was the sign his brain needed, his memories began to flood back...

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Deisler26

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1 minute ago, Minuy600 said:

Of course I gotta ask. Can FM17 and/or FM18 be used for this? I might join... later as i've got this 'permanent' save that's just kicking off.

Of course. Same as last time. Just start in Serie D

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Deisler26

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28th April 2018

"Ah, Jacques. Come in"
"We have a match today and I need to be with the players"
"I'll make it brief. We, the board, gave you around €50,000 for new players. In January, you withdrew this money and paid an agent, Mr Snrub
half of it, as a commision for a player. We've checked. We don't HAVE any new signings. What is going on??"
"Ahh, that. Well, it's very simple, it was an accounting error. The money is just resting in my account. It'll be paid back in full on Monday,
when the banks open"
"Make sure it is"

28th April 2018 - 2300

-ring ring-
"Pick up.."
-ring ring-
"Come on, pick up"
-ring ring-
"Christ's sake, pick up"
-click-

"Hello?"
"Hakan, it's me, Jacques"
"I'm hanging up"
"NO! WAIT! I'm in the sh*t here. I embezzled €50k from the Voltigeurs accounts and now they want it back! I only have half left"
"You stupid oaf. What about covering your tracks??"
"I..."
"Get out of the city. Lie low somehow. SELL THAT FU*KING CAR OF YOURS. I'll have a package waiting for you at the Allee Bauchant post office in 3 days
Name of 'Oaf'. Now go."
-click-

Jacques looked out of the window. Yeah, a pink Rolls Royce was a bit conspicious...


30th April 2018 - 0300, A quiet rest stop on the A11 just outside Angers

Jacques pulled up next to a sleek black Porsche Cayman. The door opened and he exited his own vehicle and hopped into this one.
"You only want €20k for this?"
"Yeah, I need a quick sale!"
"What's wrong with it?" asked the prospective buyer, eyes hidden behind huge sunglasses
"Nothing. It's just...conspicous, and I can't have that right now."
"So why did you buy it in the first place?"

Jacques had no answer

"I'll take it. But, I've decided not to pay for it. Get out, sweetie"

Before Jacques could react, two guns were aimed at his forehead from the two burly minders sat either side of the buyer. Perfect end to a perfect week, he thought, as he
slowly exited the vehicle. Both cars turned round and sped off, leaving him choking in a blast of exhaust fumes and dust. What a way to lose it. Being robbed
by France's biggest transgender pop star...
 

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wynter

wynter

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“It’s almost a religion, isn’t it?”

One Year Ago

The city of Florence was rich with art, history, a sense of culture that tinged the senses and brought the masses in droves. It was a pity though, that Kristian Fuller didn’t give a **** about any of those things.

“Telleus?” He asked around the city, his suitcase in hand and a bag full of grapefruit in the other, as if offering the blessed fruit would guide him to his savior.

Instead the locals just stared at him blankly and edged away, dragging their children with them.

The tourists were equally as confused, wondering why he could be looking for a football academy when the Duomo stood just metres from him. They didn’t understand. How this was his one and only chance to make it back to professional football. Especially after that incident in Detroit.

Frustrated he reached for his phone. The number wasn’t saved under a contact. He’d been told to never do so, plausible deniability they said and he didn’t have the nerve to ask questions. There’d been rumours, milling about over an incident in France, an academy which had maybe taken a step too far. Taken football in directions football had never been meant to go, but sometimes when you have nothing else to turn to the extreme seems sensible, almost mundane. Something you can live with, when all else fails.

“Where the fook are ya?” A strong cockney accent broke over the phone before he even got the chance to speak. “Mr. Telleus sent the cab to the airport three hours ago.”

“Didn’t see one, took the bus to the city.”

“****ing Yanks, never pay attention.” The man muttered, talking to himself.

Indignation mixed with frustration coursed through him over before the man continued.

“Get on the road that leads to the Artemio Franchi and one of the lads will pick you up, you have one hour and wear the funny hat so we’re able to see you.”

“No.” Kristian said. “Anything but that.”

“Yes you will, after Detroit, hardly anything’s embarrassing for you that and it gives the boys a laugh, proper ****ing funny.”

“But-“

“If you’d paid attention at the airport you’d already be here, just be lucky Telleus is the forgiving sort or you’d be expelled. So wear the hat, and wear it with a smile.”

The line clicked dead and Kristian sighed. Sometimes pride had to die.

It was for Hakan. Surely it’d be worth it?

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Deisler26

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1 May 2018 - 2pm

It was a warm afternoon in Tours, when Jacques stepped out the Uber, eyes shielded against the sun. Fumbling in his pocket, he removed the sunglasses and put them on. That, plus the rapidly thickening beard and growing hair, should give
him some cover, he thought. The embezzlement was all over the local news. France's biggest transgender popstar was pulled over in what was HIS stolen car and with a salicious wink, proceeded to tell the press that Jacques, in a fit of spurned pique, had GIVEN him the car. FFS. More crap.

The Allee Bauchant post office was closed for another half hour. "F*ck", he thought, Time for a drink. Looking around however, it was the choice between the pharmacy and the church rising monsterously against the skyline. Being as he'd been
to the pharmacy about two weeks ago after being given a dose by a local good-time girl, he didn't need it again. And the church? ...Nah. Jacques looked at his watch, a posh Rolex he'd bought on a whim after landing the Voltigeurs job. It was 2:19pm.
May as well wait, he thought. 

At 2:30pm precisely, the door was unlocked and he was allowed inside. He walked up to the counter, where a thin young man with a pencil moustache was waiting for him to complete his business. 

"You have a package for me?"
"Certainly, monsieur, your name?"
"J...Oaf"
"Monsieur, I must ask you to be more polite!"
"I didn't mean you. Oaf!"
"Monsieur! Once more and I shall be forced to call the gendarmes"

Jacques sighed. It was this kind of day.

"No, monsieur. The package is under the name of 'Oaf'.."
"Ah, oui. Let me check"

The clerk exited the area and came back with a waist strap with a bag hanging off it, the kind beloved by the corpluent and American. "This is it, monsieur" said the clerk. Cursing Hakan under his breath, he took the bag and strode out
into the sunshine. Upon opening the bag, Jacques saw a set of keys and a phone in the bag and nothing else. WTF? The phone chimed and a text appeared on the screen. "Try church. Hakan." HOW IN THE NAME OF F.... OK, ok
Jacques thought, I'll indulge him. He strode over to the church and entered the coolness of the vestibule. He looked around. No-one there. Suddenly, he froze. His heightened sense caught a snatch of a walkie-talkie conversation. Gendarmes!
****! Jacques dived into the confessional box and sat still hardly daring to breathe. He couldn't see anyone in the other box and the curtain reached the floor, so his heart-rate began to return to norm... 

"Jacques.." A gravelly voice intoned from the other side
"Jesus f*ck, what...aahhhh?!?!" Jacques was so suprised to hear that voice, he overbalanced and fell out of the confessional, to land in an undignified heap, entwined with the curtain
"Get back in here, you oaf" Hakan thundered

Jacques untangled himself and re-entered the confessional, still stunned at Hakan's appearance.

"W-w-what are you doing here??"
"Making sure you dont screw up"
"I'm...fine."
"Really?" Hakan snorted "I hear your friendship with France's biggest transgender pop star is going well"
"He stole my car!"
"Sure you didn't give it to him?"
"Well, I had to, his monkeys had guns trained on me"
"Sure. Had to. Anyway, to business"
"Yes, how am I going to get out of France?
"You're not"
Jacques gulped. What was Hakan THINKING?
"You're going to live in a cottage near the Italian border. The key is there and my driver will take you right there. You will stay there until I can fix this mess"
"What about money? food?...women?"
"I've set up a weekly food shop to be delivered. Everything is paid for. Women? Definitely not. DO NOT LEAVE THAT COTTAGE if you want to stay out of jail. The groundsman has been instructed to call the police, should you leave!"
"Jesus, Hakan, that's harsh.."
-silence-
"Hakan?....Hakan?...He's gone.."

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wynter

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Obviously still waiting for the Official Version to be released and from that a Serie D file. Regardless, decided I'd show off what team I'm planning on using.

logo-milano-city-fc-7110.660x368.jpg

We'll be playing in the North of Italy, making Milan a City of three if everything goes to plan :lock:

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wynter

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“Real life is paler, duller, and contains less potential for unexpected delirium.”

 

The classroom is tense, those around him do not speak as the man at the head of the room continues to write on the whiteboard.

“Let me paint you a picture,” the man says. “It’s the 81st minute, you’re down 2-1, you need a draw to avoid relegation. What do you do? What steps do you take to wrangle yourself out of this enormous cluster****?”

“You throw in another striker.” Kristian says as if it’s the easiest question in the world.

He doesn’t even see the marker fly from his teachers’ hand, he only feels it slap him in the face as the class devolves into laughter.

“A striker?!” The man roars. “We play Strikerless or we do not play football at all boy, I suppose you’ll tell us we don’t need Libero’s next.”

"That’s the thing.” Kristian said while rubbing his cheek, pain and wounded pride forcing his next words. “I’ve been thinking… What if we were to invert the libero?"

Gasps echo across the room. The man at the head of the class looks thunderstruck. Abandoning the Libero has always been something thought of but never uttered aloud. The greatest of risks with potentially the greatest of rewards. Another player further up the pitch, another pivot to a world of already infinite possibilities under the might of Telleusism. Maybe this American was not as foolish as he had assumed. Maybe there was a chance that one of these frauds could make it in the world of football.

"No," he whispers in the end.  "That would just be another midfielder.  Word games will not work with me, boy.  You will have to try harder."

The words leave their mark on him. Harder? When he was already giving it his everything? What more could be demanded? What more could be asked?

He would show them all, he would be the greatest Fraud to ever graduate from this academy. He’d outfraud Telleus himself if he had to.

Introducing

The Besmirched Pear

3b842f340a16b7632f6d3b60ec370d94.png

The byproduct of Telleusism, Strikerless and Libero, the only way to play.

(First tactic we'll try out when the time comes. No idea what I'm doing so hopefully I can refine it with my Newcastle save :lol:)

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Deisler26

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25 June 2018 - 0700hrs

As with most of his days for the past month. Jacques had got up, made himself a coffee and some toast and walked outside his cottage to the little 
iron-wrought table just outside the door. He put his coffee and toast down and stretched. It really was beautiful out here. In fact, Jacques was
having second thoughts about football management ever again. He sat down, stretching out his legs in the warm morning sunshine.

Taking a bite out of the toast, he reflected on his position. He had no idea where he was and he couldn't leave, but he had an ideal location
to just settle with everything provided for and no need to do anything. His sheets were changed daily, by whom, he had no idea. His bed was HUGE
and had, what seemed like speakers, built into the curvature of the headboard. He seemed to enjoy a daily nap about 3pm every day in the same armchair.

God knows why, he'd tried not to, but suddenly felt very nauseous and wrong at the thought of NOT sitting there. 

But on this be-a-yoo-tiful morning, it really wasn't worth getting upset about. He finished the toast and raised the coffee to his lips. A
rich, dark aroma rose to meet his nostrils. Perfect. Even the frigging coffee was perfect. He smiled to himself and waved at his groundskeeper, who
absently clipped a few rose bushes down near the stone wall around the cottage. Life was perfect.

25 June 2018 - 1450hrs.

Jacques was enjoying a glass of red wine outside when a dark sedan made itself known coming down the dusty track. "Who was this?" thought Jacques, as he set down
his coffee cup. He rose almost automatically as the car came to a halt outside. A strange feeling came over Jacques. What was this? He checked his watch, 14:58. Crap,
he needed to get indoors, go sit in his chair in the sun. But, can't be rude, thought Jacques.

The driver got out, a huge man who looked like he ate children for lunch. The driver opened the rear door and out into the sunlight stepped Hakan. His gruff voice bellowing
"I see you're enjoying my hospitality". Jacques looked at him in amazement. What was he doing here? Pangs of pain shot through his stomach. What? What was this? His legs buckled and
he fell to one knee. Panic flooded his body, his brain was screaming at him to get back to the chair. The soft, inviting embrace of the chair. He slumped to the floor, body refusing to function

"Oh Christ" said Hakan as Jacques' bodily functions decided to all relax at once. Stepping over the prone Jacques, Hakan sat at the table and poured himself a glass. Jacques glared at him
with an accusing eye.

"You're probably wondering why this has happened, Jacques?"
"....."
"Well, to be frank, every night you go to sleep, we've been playing hypnosis tapes through your speakers. We've been implanting the suggestion that you need to sit in the chair at 3pm. Clear so far?"
"...."
"Of course, that alone wouldn't induce this state, so every time you sit in the chair, a hypodermic needle comes out and drugs you. While you sleep, we get everything done round the house and you stay none-the-wiser"
"...!"
"And the withdrawl from those drugs is PRECISELY what you're feeling right now.. So, I'm going to give you some pure Colombian sugar and I'll see you soon"
"............!!!!!!!!"

Jacques' eyes closed as darkness overcame him. He never noticed the four people in hazmat suits who picked him up and threw him into a black van. He never felt the jolts as the van sped off down the country lane. He never considered where this would leave him.. 

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BoxToBox

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It wasn't supposed to be like this...

I had graduated with honours from the academy, was destined to lead my hometown club to glory, show those rugby sorts what proper football was.

I can resist anything except temptation... Mistakes were made. Should have never trusted Jacques about that pop star guy(girl?), legit my ass...

Fleeing France under the cover of darkness, a disgrace. What an idiot, but at least things can't get worse now? Especially after a week in that boat... It's Italy, ffs, I could have walked there quicker, but *he* insisted.

A summer in Tuscany sounds like the ideal recovery, but instead I was working harder than ever as a teacher and tutor for the other academy... Teaching the next run of kids the darkest of all arts.

Then, an opportunity was wrangled, and with his blessing I left the academy and off I went. A club relegated from Serie B to D, for dodgy paperwork, a match made in heaven, hah. The Biancoverde.

Guess I won't be getting called Y2K any more.

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ManUtd1

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19 minutes ago, BoxToBox said:

It wasn't supposed to be like this...

I had graduated with honours from the academy, was destined to lead my hometown club to glory, show those rugby sorts what proper football was.

I can resist anything except temptation... Mistakes were made. Should have never trusted Jacques about that pop star guy(girl?), legit my ass...

Fleeing France under the cover of darkness, a disgrace. What an idiot, but at least things can't get worse now? Especially after a week in that boat... It's Italy, ffs, I could have walked there quicker, but *he* insisted.

A summer in Tuscany sounds like the ideal recovery, but instead I was working harder than ever as a teacher and tutor for the other academy... Teaching the next run of kids the darkest of all arts.

Then, an opportunity was wrangled, and with his blessing I left the academy and off I went. A club relegated from Serie B to D, for dodgy paperwork, a match made in heaven, hah. The Biancoverde.

Guess I won't be getting called Y2K any more.

giphy.gif

*Fraudulence intensifies*

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Deisler26

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Present Day

Jacques recoiled at the unfamiliar sight in the mirror. Who the F*CK was this guy? His hands reached up to touch his face. His hair. His... ponytail?
Goatee? Jesus wept, thought Jacques. His eyes suddenly went wide as the codeine hit his system, a dazzling shock that beautifully numbed the pain in his head and
allowed him to think straight for the first time in.. ages?

The phone rang again, the electronic tones no longer vibrating his very skull. He thumbed the answer button and raised the phone to his ear..

"Hello?"
"Hello Oaf"
"Hakan! I mean, what the FU.."
"SAVE IT" thundered Hakan "I've done what you asked. You called me for an out. I gave you an out!"
"But my face! The drugs! YOU KIDNAPPED ME!"
"And, by way of some compensation, not that you deserve it, France's biggest transgender pop star has been arrested and tried for your crimes"
"..."
"Your face needed to be changed. You couldn't manage here without someone knowing your face. So I changed it. Free plastic surgery, Andre!"
"Andre? But I'm Jacques.."
"You're a f*cking slow-witted oaf! The name on your new documents is Andre Bogmærker, a Dane from Hvidovre"
"Why that?"
"BECAUSE THE OTHER GUY DOESN'T NEED THEM ANYMORE"
"Oh.."
"Right. I've got you a new job. The address is programmed into the Fiat 500 outside. Get showered and changed and I expect you there in 2 days.
-bzzzzzz-

Jacques put down the phone. Baffled wasn't the word. He looked down at the open passport. I am no longer Jacques Managere, he thought. I am Andre Bogmæker. 

Andre

 

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Deisler26

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16 July 2018

Andre stepped out of the Fiat and stretched. The ride to the location, just past Rimini was pleasant enough, but when his eyes focused on the sight in front of him, his heart sank...

 

Image result for stade valentino mazzola

This.. did not look good. Andre was used to working under bad conditions, but this looked even worse. A groundsman shuffled up to him and mumbled a few words which Andre couldn't understand. "I don't speak Italian" Andre explained. "I'm Fr..Danish... WHERE. IS. IL. STADIUM. ??".

The aged gent extended a bony claw towards a shabby brick building. Andre thanked him and turned away to stride over to the building. As he approached, a cracked and peeling sign over the door said..

WELCOME TO

6100016.png.2d25477747922ee7da053ab75fc79c61.png

This was going to be fun, thought Andre. He opened the door and walked inside. The dilapidated state of the paintwork and rooms did nothing to lift his spirits. After checking in two or three rooms, he hit the jackpot as he saw his name on a nameplate on top of the desk. He walked round the desk and collapsed into the chair.. "Hmm, at least this is comfortable"  Andre thought. He then spotted an envelope on the desk. He opened it, took out the sheet and began to read..

"Hello Oaf! This is your new job. Enjoy. They were relegated from Serie C last season and are favourites to go back up. So let's see that Fraud magic. Hakan." 

That bastard!!

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BoxToBox

BoxToBox

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So, here I am, Avellino, a club favourites for Serie D, with a core capable at the Serie C level according to my staff.

Expectations, fine. I'll deal.

Back at my beloved Bayonne, I believed in "the philosophy" that the academy sold us, it appealed to me, build the team on local talent, lads from the youth ranks, like myself! What could be more ideal?!

Then came the unpleasantness..... Bloody Jacq*cough*"Andre".... Anyway, I've no such kinship with Avellino, or Italians. Time to make a real go of it, any means necessary...

Well, I say that now, but I'll take things as they come, not like I should need anything to get out of this league...

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Deisler26

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Andre sat down in his office and poured a drink. Galliano again? F*ck,  thought Andre. He'd just come from a meeting with the chairman about how this season would hopefully progress.

2018 targets

Later on that week, he had the philosophy meeting set up and he was damn sure he was going to get his Youth Only philosophy over to the chairman, even if he had to tie him up and inject him with sugar...

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Makoto Nakamura

Makoto Nakamura

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2018/19 Mid-Season Update

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We're predicted down in 10th so mid-table was the aim at the start of the season.

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We've actually been really good! There's not been any games where we've been completely outplayed and we hold a promotion playoff spot, our recent loss away to Arzignano Valchiampo puts them firmly as favourites for promotion.

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Makoto Nakamura

Makoto Nakamura

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2018/19 End of Season Review

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We came remarkably close, but 10 losses out of 34 games is not the kind of form worthy of winning the league so we've got to settle for 3rd. We did grab some silverware as Eyram Leveh single-handedly destroyed Bari to bring home the Serei D Cup!

deace3bf33a454dbea77741d7e94f61e.png7fa5d71a1a512989d7e2849a5f57425a.pngcf9042f35cd2a7138cccac38999891be.png

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2018/19 Best XI

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Stefano Camerlengo

Andrea Pregnolato - Davide Granziera - Alberto Ballarin

Pietro Martino                                                                                     Matteo Scandilori

Marco Cuomo - Stefano Pelizzer

Marco Farinazzo                                                                      Vincenzo Barone

Eyram Leveh

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Makoto Nakamura

Makoto Nakamura

Posted
Posted

2019/20 Mid-Season Update

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Slightly lower expectations after we lost the players that were on loan last year, including our starting goalkeeper so I expected our defense to be a lot leakier this season.

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Well...w;re 3 points away from 5th. In that 5-0 loss to Este it was 0-0 until the 63rd minute...and then we went down to 10 men, which didn't help things. What's good to know is that 9 of our 24 conceded goals were from just 2 games.

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B.W.G

B.W.G

Posted
Posted
4 minutes ago, Deisler26 said:

Join ussss

What qualification do I start with regards to badges?

2 minutes ago, Makoto Nakamura said:

You're already managing in Serie D as well!

I actually managed them in Serie C on the beta,not actually done anything since the full release other than the database :lol:

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