1.24 - Making Plans

24.

“ Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.” – John Lennon.

The whole of Monday was dominated by the Queen's funeral. I didn't have to go to work, and this time it seemed appropriate that the event was being shown on every TV channel. I had to mute the sound because the audio was so inane. (Example: 'And here comes the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Cornwall, and the Duke of Rothesay.' And it turns out... that's one person!)

But I left the picture on - the pomp and ceremony from a bygone age, ancient uniforms swaddling very modern faces, the leaders from every country on earth (except you-know-who) - while I thought about what I'd learned, what my current options were, and where I wanted to take my football career.

I took out a piece of paper and tried to organise my thoughts.

Basics

I'd learned that watching live football earned me XP, and I could use that currency to buy perks that would improve my skills. So far I'd bought: Attributes 1; 4-4-2; Super Scout; Fantasy Football.

I'd started the weekend with 386 XP. I got 100 from managing Beth's team, 60 from pottering around Hough End, 80 from my 40 minutes of managing Moss Side Celtic, and 1 from achievements, for a grand total of 627. (The achievements were annoying. The first was called Losing Streak (for losing 2 matches in a row, zero XP). Next was called Baggiohno! (for missing the penalty, zero XP). And I got 1 XP for Sweep the Leg, awarded for pressing an advantage against an enemy weak spot.)

More perks were available to buy, including permanent ones and monthly special offers that would come and go. The benefits seemed to fall into two categories. The 'curse', as I'd come to think of it, was essentially passive while I was watching (Scouting) and terrifyingly active while I was the head coach (Managing).

Scouting

I'd found a couple of players who, with luck, could make it as professionals. One, through a string of coincidences, was currently training with a semi-pro team. With the other I was waiting until I had my shit together before making first contact. In theory I could bring these guys to teams and take a cut of their salaries. In theory there were many more such opportunities. In theory, with 7 clients earning 500 pounds a week, my cut would be 350 a week. Enough to replace the income from the call centre and work full-time doing football things.

This could be achieved in a reasonably quick timescale. Within a year, maybe.

Thus it made sense to focus on the scouting aspect of my 'career'.

Note 1: I knew what some of the missing attributes in my player profiles were, because they'd been mentioned in other perk descriptions. Flair and Creativity (probably), Set Pieces, Influence. Plus something with Offside.

Note 2: Placing players might not be a smooth process. There were indications that FC United were trying to steal my player. It would be good to develop relationships with more clubs. Just in case.

Managing Teams

I'd 'managed' Beth's team in a few matches where they beat teams they would have beaten anyway, and lost to the only good team in their league. I had also led FC United's reserve team to defeat and helped one of the worst teams in Manchester lose.

If that sounds overly self-critical, I felt this kind of reality check was needed. Managing was thrilling, the feeling of power was addictive, and I wanted to do more of it. But it wouldn't pay the bills. There was no question of anyone ever paying me to manage their team.

That said, managing was fun and came with double XP for the same amount of time spent, so it was worth pursuing it. IN MODERATION, MAX.

Health

It wasn't normal to see things. Several times I'd experienced cracking headaches after intense football-related sessions. If it happened more and more often I would either have to reduce my involvement with the sport or see a professional. The American book of mental disorders was very expensive, and double when you included delivery. I was in no position to afford it. Then again, I doubted it would include a section on people who can telepathically control midfielders. Being honest with myself, the only way to stop the curse seemed like the 'Retire' option in the menus. I was nowhere nearing thinking about that.

Perk Tier List

I ranked the perks I had available in order of how much I wanted them and how much they fit my plan.

3 - An Opera with Emma Level

• Match Stats 1 - 100 XP - Good to have. Prob v. interesting; can wait.
• 4-4-2 diamond - 100 XP - I wanted it so much! But MAX BEST IS NOT A MANAGER. Write it down 100 times!
• Playdar - 8000 XP - Talent finder. Possibly really, really useful but shockingly expensive and unknown impact.
• Player Comparison - 630 XP - Quality of life upgrade, can wait.

2 - Laser Tag with Emma Level

• Player Profile 2 - 100 XP - This would unlock a section of a player's profile called History. I actually didn't want that, but it was much more closely aligned with my overall objectives than most of the options. Maybe it would reveal a player's injury record? Tell me if they'd been scouted before? Alert me if they'd tried and failed at a club? For 100 XP it was worth a punt.

1 - Trapped On a Desert Island With Emma But There Are Still Pizzas and Internet There Level

• Attributes 2 - 630 XP - Essential for finding talented players with marketable skills.
• God Save the King - 3000* XP - Boosting my clients? Yes, please.

Writing everything down was soothing. I'd been going a bit bonkers wondering if I could stand on my own two feet as a football manager. Why? I mean, why? All I needed to do was seal the deal with Ziggy, find 5 more players and get them on basic contracts, then, once I knew what I was doing, talk to Raffi Brown. Dynamically switching between 4-4-2 and 4-4-2 diamond depending on the game state didn't come into it!

I glanced up at the TV screen. There were lots of horses and flowery hats. I turned the sound back on. The actual service had to be close now.

So, action plan:

• Keep saving XP until the October special offer came along, then reassess.
• Make contact with more clubs.
• Find more players.

I checked the funeral procession again. There were rows and rows of soldiers. Each one with a slightly different hat and epaulette. That gave me an idea - I needed to go and watch a match in each professional division. That way, I'd know what level of CA and PA my players would need. For example, it seemed like you'd need a CA of 150 to even get on the bench in the Premier League.

• Scout all divisions.

Lost in thought, I stared into an empty mug for a while. Empty? That wouldn't do. I put the kettle on and pottered around the kitchen doing some stretches. When the noise of the boiling water quietened, I realised the people on TV were talking about something other than the Queen. I turned it up while getting the milk out of the fridge.

It was the latest news from the war in Ukraine. Ugh. I muted it again and angrily stirred my tea. War in Europe in 2022! Fucking mental.

I sat back down at the desk and looked at my paper. 'Find more players' it said. But where? I'd found a handful of older guys who'd never been discovered by professional clubs. What if I wanted to find a 15-year-old? No, I didn't want that. Long-term that would be fine, but I needed cash now. So the ideal player would be... 17 or 18. Where was the best place to find amazing players who had never been scouted by an English team?

Well, I thought, laughing to myself, anywhere outside England!

And then I dropped my cup and it smashed into a hundred pieces while the camera zoomed into my face. Enlightenment!

(That's not what really happened. Actually, I just went 'huh' and took a sip of tea.)

Here was my breakthrough - refugees! Wiry wingers slightly too young to fight. Little playmaker kids who'd had to flee the invasion. Britain is a warm and generous country, right? We probably took in hundreds of thousands of them. Was it wrong to take advantage of this crisis? Well, is it wrong to find someone, tell them they are special, offer them a job, and make them so rich they can buy a new car every week? I don't know. Leave philosophy to the taxi drivers.

I went to Wikipedia and typed 'alphonso davies'.

Davies was interesting as a player and as a person. As a player he was nominally a left-back, but in fact his team, Bayern Munich, sometimes just let him run the entire left-hand side of the pitch. In any game he'd be the fastest player, have the most stamina, and be the most skilful. It seemed pretty unfair! As a person, he was born in a refugee camp in Ghana after his parents escaped from Liberia. They moved to Canada, and Davies played for the Canadian national team. It was odd that one of the best players in the world was Canadian. They weren't exactly a football powerhouse. But who knew? Maybe Canada was secretly a football hotbed. Maybe I could meet a Canadian version of Emma who could help me find out.

One website said Alphonso Davies was being paid 103,000 dollars a week. If he kept playing to his current standard, he could triple that with his next contract, especially if he moved to the Premier League.

That was the end of the planning time and the beginning of the daydreaming. What would I buy first, a Porsche or a Rolex? Should my first holiday be a cheap one in Ibiza so I'd know what it was like or should I skip all that and head straight to the Seychelles?

My attention was drawn to the TV. The sound was off, and I wanted to turn it back on. But I couldn't move. I was frozen. Charles stood there, looking at his mother's coffin, his eyes red, lips aquiver, expression haunted, and I finally got it. Today wasn't just a technical change in the UK's head of state or a display of Britain's soft power. It was a ritual to mark the biggest change in this or any man's life. Just then, Charles didn't want to be king. He wanted his mum back.

After a few minutes, I folded my piece of paper, tucked it in beside my toaster, picked up my car keys, and drove to the care home.

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