Do you mind if I share a story with you I once heard...??

[Andy Anon]

First Division football training ground, England, August 1989

The punch to the solar plexus hurt. Alot. As sudden as it was winding, for this apprentice dreaming of the big time it would turn out to be an appropriate, if painful introduction to the fickle, selfish, greedy world of professional football. The question that followed the blow would be equally prophetic,

"And what are you? The birds, booze or betting?"

The trainee heard that much. Doubled over, gasping for air he tried to look up at the face on top of the arm that had unleashed the punch for no reason he could fathom. It was a face he had seen, no worshipped, since as long as he could remember watching football on television. A face he had just seen in the flesh for the first time, on his first day in his first job. A face that only 30 seconds before, was striding towards him across the training pitch.

Reeling from the shock, he was barely able to croak out,

"No....n-n-none of them....Mr....".

The body, with the face and the arm, was already gone before he had managed any more. The face on the body was still shouting, he could not remember whether it had stopped shouting from the second the punch landed,

"You will be young man, you will be. I've won 2 European Cups and 2 English Championships with 2 clubs, best manager England never had, aye I can judge a character, you will be".

With a final shout the face blasted one last broadside, "You can learn a lot from me young man!!".

The face was well out of earshot by the time 17 year old YTS trainee, Ryan Hull, had recovered from the shock, sheer embarrassment and pain enough to stand up straight in the slipstream from the human tornado that had just battered all his senses. Ryan just about managed to whisper through gritted teeth,

"I hope so Mr Clough, I hope so".

[Andy Anon]

Srebrenica, Drina Valley, North-Eastern Bosnia, July 1995

This was not how it was meant to be. Something had gone wrong. Badly wrong.

His journey over the past 6-7 years was a story in itself, but here in the present he was beginning to believe that the past 6-7 years had happened to somebody else.

Nothing had prepared him for this, and for all the up's and down's of the past, this was more horrifying than anything he could conjure up even in his worst nightmares. And he had an impressive portfolio of past, present and 'for the future' fears and worries he could call upon. Mind 'shot'. Gone. Call it what you will, here was a man who fought inwardly with himself every hour, every day.

Lance Corporal Ryan Hull was just 23 years old.

By the end of this day, of all days, Ryan would look in the mirror in his bedspace and know he was looking in to the eyes of a man at least twice as old as his 23 years.

Ryan needed a beer. Not 'just the one' either. What's the point of 'just the one' anyway? Lager helped and was the best medicine he had yet experienced for switching off the channel in his brain that would take him to those dark, dark places Ryan was taken to after he had crawled in to his bed every single night.

After today though he would have a whole new set of demons to hit the refresh button for on the alarm call and not least the need of the best medicine Ryan would ever know.....

[BobBev]

Welcome Andy, and a mighty impressive start if I may say so.

[chesterfan2]

I'll echo Mr BobBev. A good start, looking forward to reading more. Welcome Andy, and enjoy yourself on here.

[Andy Anon]

Thanks guys, just hope I can do some of the stories I've read here justice in being in their company. They've inspired me to write.

Will continue soon...

[Andy Anon]

This story, Ryan's story, is a 'Football' story, but I feel it is important for me to share a little of how Ryan ended up in the predicament he would find himself in further down the line. The stumbling from one crisis to the next when Ryan's chaotic mad world later, much later, became intertwined with professional football's equally chaotic mad world. Besides, Ryan would have wanted me to.

It wasn't a 'contact' or warfare as one might think war would, or should, be that was the problem rocketing off the 'horrific' scale today. Ryan could have coped with that, or as well as Ryan coped with anything.

No, today the horror of human conflict was different. Far worse. In short, the Srebrenica pocket, a UN safe-haven within the Bosnian war had collapsed, and though Ryan knew it would be for others far better qualified, paid and educated to write up the history on the in's and out's of what really happened, for Ryan all he could see, and later never forget, was sheer horror.

Ryan was there. In the pocket when it collapsed. And though he did not know it at the time, his blue UN beret gave him protection from what un-folded in front of his eyes, yet also linked him to a future in such a way that Ryan would later swear by the fact that 'fate' is reality for all of us.

Trouble was, when it came to 'protection' Ryan was supposed to be part of the cog of the machine that's sole goal was to 'protect'.

Ryan's team had failed. As badly as one can possibly fail.

And this time the whole world was going to hear about it. Teams Ryan had been on had failed before of course, he was an ex-professional footballer, so Ryan thought he was well-equipped to brush off and move on from team failure.

Failing to win a football match puts everyone 'down in the dumps' for a few days.

Failing to stop the murder of over 8000 people in just over a week when it's your job to be protecting them has a different, longer lasting effect on members of the team I guess.

[Andy Anon]

Now you are going to have to forgive me here, I am not going to apologise for a blatant show of condescending "you can have no idea", but in my defence; sometimes events happen that no words on a page can do justice to. I am going to spare you, the reader, the details of the horror. Suffice to say it was as bad as you can imagine.

Think of the most soul searching scenes for you when you watched 'Schindler's List', the Steven Spielberg Hollywood blockbuster film, and imagine that scene unfolding in front of your eyes, yards away, when your mission is to be part of the machine set up to prevent such events happening.

Then multiply it all by a thousand.

And have it repeat itself for days. All day, every day.

The perpertrators hate you. The victims hate you. You hate yourself. The word 'Victim' can not do justice either, it's just a word. The reality is a whole different scale.

Hell on earth in modern Europe in the 1990's.

Ryan should not have even been there. This was a Dutch UN sector, protected by Dutch soldiers and Ryan was UK military. He and his boss, Captain Hyland, a fellow Brit were there though.

Why? Maybe fate is reality. Maybe coincidences just happen.

All that aside, the here and now was that Ryan had a shadow. Maybe an angel, maybe just mad; but the young Bosnian girl, and now officially, displaced, ethnically-cleansed refugee, just seemed to rise above the utter horror surrounding them all....

[Andy Anon]

It was the eyes that stood out, they absolutely radiated hope and dancing glitter amongst a sea of eyes that hope had long ago left town on. The upside down 'L' shaped small scar under the right eye only drew Ryan's gaze of wonderment to her eyes further, but I guess whoever said the eye's were the window of the soul were spot on with regards this girl.

You too would have been drawn to the eyes.

You have to see 1000's of eyes with no hope in them, to truly appreciate what this girl was like.

And the shadowing; she had not left Ryan's side since he had walked to 'work' that day. She seemed to dance light-footed amongst the sheer chaos that blanketed this valley, or rather danced 'around' it would make for a better description of how this waif-like Bosnian girl seemed to be coping.

Ryan would discover the answer one day but the sharpest memory Ryan had of the little Bosnian girl beyond her 'eyes' was the question he had asked himself almost every time he noticed her,

"Is she mad?".

And her name, he never forgot the name but had long forgotten why it was important to remember her name.

Her English apparently stopped at "Eva" whilst pointing to herself. Ryan's Serbo-Croat never even started so there was little chit-chat, but the eyes....they were something else.

It would be a long time before Ryan would know the fate of that girl, years that is of Ryan wondering of her fate.

You believe in fate, right?

[Andy Anon]

Where there is ying, there is yang.

There was somebody else hovering in and out of Ryan's conscience that day who would also change Ryan's path of destiny years later, but Ryan was never going to notice that at the time.

Where Eva, the little Bosnian girl, seemed oblivious to the horror, Max appeared equally so. Trouble was, Max had not earned the right in Ryan's eyes to 'be' oblivious to what was happening, he was supposed to be stopping it.

Max was a civilian UN 'suit'. The senior UN official in the Srebrenica pocket in July 1995. A 'civvy' member of the United Nations, and Dutch by nationality like the UN soldiers he was working alongside.

What troubled Ryan was that Max was smiling and joking throughout. No, what really troubled Ryan to the point where at the time Ryan wanted to put a 5.56mm round between this clown's eyes, was that Max was smiling and joking 'with' so-called soldiers of the Bosnian Serb Army.

The very guys who appeared responsible for what Ryan was beginning to wonder if others would one day call a genocide.

[Andy Anon]

The world in which their paths would next cross each other's destiny; the little Bosnian girl, the UN official and the British soldier was a million miles away from this.

Through the long nights without end in the aftermath of the mayhem and pain of all of the above; one burning flame that never extinguished long after others had in Ryan was that one day he would manage footballers.

Football is special. It trumps....well....everything according to Ryan.

Above the alcohol, above the women, above the horrors he had been privy to, above everything; what kept Ryan 'alive' was Football and even at the tender age of 23 his sheer stubborness of will that he was somehow 'good' at getting footballers to play for him burned inside. It kept Ryan warm.

Mad? Shot? Gone?

You bet.

[Andy Anon]

Fourteen years later, West Country Pub, England, May 2009

Ryan peered over the rim of the glass at the girl playing pool in the corner.

'Hmm, pretty' he thought to himself, but muttered out loud probably without realising.

In her late teens, excited about life's future, she was well out of Ryan's league as they say, but no harm done in appreciating a 'cutie' from afar. Not according to Ryan anyway.

Not that I was any different, but unlike Ryan I was a one-girl kind of bloke and had managed to keep my first, and current, wife in a loving relationship with me far longer than he had kept all three of his previous wives in anything like a similar state.

"In your dreams, mate" I laughed as I looked over to where Ryan's gaze led to.

Ryan just smiled.

[Andy Anon]

"So then, how did it go?" I asked, trying to drag Ryan back from whatever position in the karma sutra he was imagining himself in with the poor girl at the pool table.

Ryan had, only that morning, flown in from Amsterdam's Schipol airport, and before he had even reached Britsol's Temple Meads railway station he was on the phone to me checking what my lunch plans were and whether they matched his.

Ryan's lunchtime plans rarely changed. We were sat in a pub. Ryan liked a drink.

"How did it go? Not sure, it was.....it was wierd" he said, still not being able to stop himself looking over to the pool table.

I laughed again.

"The whole thing is 'weird'!! But what did they say?"

Ryan put his pint down and I had his attention again.

"It wasn't like any interview I've ever heard of, I rock up there all suited and booted nervous as a turkey in November and the girl on the front desk just hands me an envelope containing a note, asks me to read it and have an answer ready for when one of the directors would be ready to see me...in...um...about two minutes".

[Andy Anon]

"Yeah? So what did it say?" I asked impatiently.

"What did 'what' say? The director?" Ryan asked.

I inwardly rolled my eyes, Ryan could be 'strange' at the best of times, and even on his better days getting much out of him was hard work.

And I was amazed Ryan wanted to be a Football Manager and further to that he was actually doing something about making that happen. If you knew Ryan, you would be as gobsmacked as I was.

And oh how I had laughed when he told me that he was going to apply for this job. A full-time professional football manager. In Holland.

If I knew then what I know now, I would not have laughed. God no. I would have locked Ryan up if I could have.

No, armed with the hindsight I have now as I write this, I would have done anything to stop Ryan going to Holland.

[Andy Anon]

Now I'm no expert, but I am pretty sure, to be even remotely successful, managers of football teams need to be 'people persons' and motivators. Ryan was so laid back and withdrawn a character that I could not look beyond the glaringly obvious logic that dictated Ryan + Football Manager = Never the twain shall meet.

"No mate, in the envelope you muppet, what did it say?".

"Oh right, yeah, the envelope. It just said;

'If you in your role as manager of MY football team are given 7.5M EURO's to spend on MY football team, how do you spend it?'

Weird eh?"

I did not ask, but assumed the note was written in English. Ryan's mastering of the Dutch language shuddered to a stop not far after being able to ask for a round of drinks in a bar.

Ryan had an impressive mastering of quite a few languages in asking for beer. Little mastery beyond that.

Ryan carried on, with a growing cheeky grin,

"Trouble was, it was written in Dutch, wasn't it."

[Andy Anon]

I loved Ryan. He just made me laugh so much. And he did so without realising it, or even trying to make me laugh. The best kind of comedy in my opinion. He was not everybody's cup of tea, ask his ex-wives, but I loved being in his company.

"Well mate, I did wonder why the hell you were applying for a job in a country you can't speak the language of. So what did you do?"

Ryan stopped on the grin and I wondered if that was Ryan's usually one-a-day smile quota used up for today. It was the second one in a couple of minutes.

"Nah, it's fine. They all speak English, don't they? I just asked the girl on the reception what it said."

By 'they' I guess Ryan meant pretty much everybody in Holland.

I could not really argue with his logic there, they seemed to put us Brits to shame on the language front, not to mention the football one, but I did wonder if that was the 'right' attitude for Ryan to take with him if, by some outside madcap chance, they offered him this job in Holland.

[Andy Anon]

"And your answer to the question in the envelope was....?".

"Well it's not this guy's decision, the Chairman owner wasn't there, but the director seemed ok about it".

Ryan looked over at the girl playing pool again and I noticed the girl's company, her boyfriend I assumed, catching Ryan's eye. Ryan ignored the hostiles coming from the guy and looked down in to his drink again.

"I said I wanted one week on-site, looking over the facilities, coaching staff, players etc before I could confidently answer his bone question....didn't mention the bone bit of course".

"And they said yeah?" I asked, surprised and pleasantly so at Ryan's common sense approach on this one. It did not say much for Ryan's preperation for the interview or his researching of what he may be taking on, but it seemed a sensible enough response to me given the fact that he had not researched the role much at all. But that was Ryan for you.

"No, they said no, but I think he liked my answer. He said they'd be in touch".

With that Ryan downed the rest of his pint, placed the empty glass with a bang in front of me and got up from the table.

"It's your round peckerhead, get 'em in, I'm off for a p*ss".

[Andy Anon]

As Ryan walked past the pool game and the girl he had not stopped letching at, I watched him put down a 50p piece on the edge of the table, so 'booking' the next game.

Winner stays on, house rules, so he would not be playing me.

The girl smiled at Ryan, bent down and played her last red, easily screwing back to set up a straight, easy shot to the Black that even I could have sunk.

Ryan ignored her glaring boyfriend, and called over his shoulder to the girl as he headed to the gents,

"Rack 'em up, I'll be back in a jiffy".

[Andy Anon]

I watched Ryan go, let out a long sigh and wondered if BV Veendam of the Dutch Second Division realised what they were getting here should they offer Ryan this job.

A character I can best describe as 'complicated', much of which Ryan hid from the world or , at best, only allowed brief glimpses of.

Ex-professional footballer who had lost his way in the game aged only 20, joined the British Army straight from the fall out of all that, captained and then coached the Army and Combined Services football teams and did his coaching licences by moonlighting as a part-time coach at two smaller German football clubs; Paderborn and Bielefeld, whilst he was based in Germany with the Army.

Of course, I now know I was wasting my time caring one jot about how BV Veendam would cope with hiring a "Ryan" to run their show.

I should have been saving all my concern for Ryan.

[Andy Anon]

One month later, Arrivals, Schipol Airport, Amsterdam, 22nd June 2009

He did not even try to pronounce the name on the letter.

"Gjaltema-Stadion aan de langleleegte".

Luckily he did not have to.

Well, not yet anyway. One day soon he would need to. It was going to be his new workplace. Ryan preferred 'Veendam's Home Stadium' for now.

He had been told that he would be met by a club official at the Arrivals hall and taken to his new place of employment. His luggage would then be taken on to the hotel that his new employer had arranged as a temporary place to lay his hat down until he found something more permanent.

Ryan Hull, newly appointed manager of BV Veendam, briefly wondered who would be picking up the bill for what looked like a quite luxurious hotel the club had apparently chosen for him.

After all, when it came to hotel bills; Ryan knew that mini-bars within hotel rooms were as welcome to him as they were expensive.

Scanning the faces once more, he could see no sign of anybody who might be a club official there to greet him.

"No bother, somebody will be here soon enough" Ryan thought to himself.

[Andy Anon]

Ryan's gaze was drawn to the open, but empty, bar across the concourse. He checked his watch.

9:22am.

Too early for a quick drink?

Probably.

[Andy Anon]

Ryan chose a table where he could have full eye's on of anybody entering the Arrivals area or anyone that may look like this club official milling around looking for Ryan.

He took his first sip of the day. Ryan always enjoyed the fist sip of the day over all the remaining sips he would take....well....each and every day.

Keeping one eye on the entrance to the Arrivals hall and the other on the stunning, too stunning to be working here, girl that had served him at the bar, Ryan's mind raced.

[Andy Anon]

This was it. 37 years in the making. Today was the start of the rest of his life.

Ryan had made it. Somebody was giving him a 'chance' and that was all he had ever wanted.

The chance to do the one thing he was completely sure he could succeed at. He had failed at pretty much everything else after all.

As much as this was a goal fulfilled, Ryan knew this was last chance saloon for any sort of exocism of Ryan's demons hammering his head in to screwing up at every turn.

Mind you, Ryan was sat in a bar nursing a large alcoholic drink at half past nine in the morning just about to start his dream job.

BV Veendam had offered him the job of Head Coach and were going to be paying him close to £60k per annum to do so.

Happy?

I should co-co.

[Andy Anon]

Something should have niggled Ryan though, but so caught up in the excitement of what he had already achieved in getting a job offer, Ryan missed it at the time.

Ryan just does not do 'excitement' so I can forgive him for the oversight, his ex-wives might suggest he would not have been used to being in such a state. Plus, he was yhe closest friend I will ever have, so I have to admit in my excitement for him I too missed it at the time.

The note in the envelope was not just a 'tester' question for interviewing a shortlist of candidates and downselecting.

'If you in your role as manager of MY football team are given 7.5M EURO's to spend on MY football team, how do you spend it?'

It was actually the reality....

[Andy Anon]

It turns out that Ryan was being given a budget of 7.5M EURO's to do with as he saw fit to turn BV Veendam in to something the Chairman appeared to badly want.

Not that he had met the Chairman yet.

That would be point number 2 which should and definitely would be niggling Ryan had he actually met the Chairman....Owner.....you know? The guy that Ryan would be working for.

But the budget? 7.5M EURO? BV Veendam?

[Andy Anon]

Now I do not mean to disrespect BV Veendam here, but Ajax it is not.

And Ryan Hull? Once my closest friend whom I will defend to my grave, but let's face it we are not talking Alex Ferguson managerial CV here.

7.5M EURO's is a lot in anyone's language. Too much to be found at a club like BV Veendam.

And far too much to be trusting an untried football coach with no CV of note to be spending on your behalf .

Yes, something of the niggling kind should had have been playing alarm bells like an overstretched fire station here.

[Andy Anon]

"Hmmm, I'd not want to get caught up to my neck in his missus' legs" Ryan thought as he noticed the collosuss that walked in to the bar and approached the girl working the bar.

Beauty and the Beast exchanged words and both looked over towards Ryan.

In his 40's, shaven headed with a face that only his mother could love the sack of muscle, looking the part dressed in open black leather jacket, black jeans and boots to match, turned away from the bar and walked purposely over to Ryan's table.

[Andy Anon]

"What a neck, where does his shoulders end and neck begin?", Ryan thought checking over his first fan looking for an autograph.

"Are you Mr Hull?" it asked in heavily accented English.

"Yes mate, what can I do for you?" Ryan smiled looking up at the man mountain whilst wondering if he had a pen handy in his suit jacket inside pocket to sign his first autograph.

The Bullneck looked at Ryan and then looked at the half empty glass of lager on the table in front of Ryan and Ryan could swear he could see cogs turning in Bullneck's eyes.

"I am to take you to the stadium, show me your letter please" Bullneck grunted.

Bullneck meet Ryan, new manager of the football part of the circus. Ryan is from England.

Ryan meet Bullneck, your lift to work and 'official from the club' sent to meet you. Bullneck is from Serbia.

[Andy Anon]

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End of Part One

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[Andy Anon]

Can I just check something here? I can't see anything about it in the forum rules etc but I'm quite far ahead in game compared to what I've posted up.

The story goes on to involve real player and staff names of Veendam and some characters do some pretty bad stuff (I didn't untick the real use players box on the game).

Am I ok to post up in a story using real people's names on SI official outlet?

[tenthreeleader]

Generally it is best to avoid real people actions that are not generated by the game, or if you have no other option, then to make such actions generally positive. There is, for example, a reason why you can no longer complain to the FA about an official, or why players are not brought up on various charges as you occasionally see in real life.

I'll make enquiries and PM you. In the meantime, I ask that you hold any such references.

[Andy Anon]

Thanks 10-3. I thought as much and can change details to protect the innocent. No worries.

[Andy Anon]

Same day, Manager's Office, BV Veendam, Holland, 22nd June 2009

Clear out.

Ryan mused over the computer keyboard in front of him and it was those two words that jumped from the screen at him.

Veendam's previous manager had left a legacy at the club that on first viewing, Ryan was extremely impressed with. Ryan briefly wondered if all professional clubs did it like this. But impressive it appeared nonetheless.

Not that the same could be said for the stadium he was now sat within in his small, but modern functional office. Ryan could not do much about that yet, there were far more important foundations to be built before he would consider requesting improvments to the facilities or stadium.

Besides, Veendam's average crowds were not exactly causing this small, 6500 all-seater stadium to be ever bursting at the seams.

That would come Ryan hoped. No, was sure of.

[Andy Anon]

The legacy left by the previous manager, and very kindly passed on to Ryan was a database covering all aspects of a player's or coaches physical, mental and technical attributes.

Each of the three attributes were then broken down in to smaller sub-sets covering....well pretty much everything from how composed the player was on the ball to how determind the club's physio was. Each attribute had been given a score from 1 (extremely poor) to 20 (world-class).

What is more, being mainly number-based it was a 'handover brief' Ryan could easily work on, given his complete lack of ability to understand the Dutch language.

"Happy days, this is a gold mine," Ryan smiled to himself while he quickly scanned down the various profiles.

[Andy Anon]

Ryan did briefly wonder if he had been "stitched up" by the previous incumbent and the numbers would be deliberately misleading, but remembering Veendam's last manager had suddenly died in a road accident just over a month before, he quickly dismissed the idea. And cursed himself for thinking bad of the dead at the same time.

Ryan would have to check the players personally of course, because as they say one man's mule is another's thoroughbred or something like that, but as a starter this really was a lucky break.

Ryan locked down on the computer and checked the clock. Waiting for the call that the Chairman was ready to see him, Ryan leaned back, stretched his legs under the desk and smiled.

[Andy Anon]

BV Veendam is a small professional club that plays it's football in the Dutch national 2nd tier, the Jupiler league. The team had had very brief forays in and quickly out of Holland's top division, the Eredivisie, but had never won anything of note.

"That lot up the road"; FC Groningen, their neighbours and biggest rivals were playing in the Eredivisie so no local derby for Ryan to worry about just yet.

As a huge football fan himself, Ryan knew how important these games were to the fans, and how important the fan themselves were to his, and his team's chances of success. Ryan would certainly not shed any tears that Veendam would not have to play their derby game until his rebuilding project had matured a little.

The intercom on Ryan's desk buzzed. The Chairman was ready to see him.

[Andy Anon]

Same day, Chairman's office, BV Veendam

"So Ryan, it is good to meet you at long last, do you know why I offered you the job?"

Ryan wondered if Bullneck had passed on to his new boss the circumstances of where Bullneck had finally found Ryan at Schipol earlier that morning.

As introductions go, Ryan had had far worse but it threw Ryan a little. The Chairman remained seated, leaning back with his feet perched up on an empty desk.

Aged in the mid/late-50's, Ryan's first impression was that the man was clearly overweight and had the face of a man who 'enjoyed' life through good food and good wine. And a lot of it by the looks of the rolling fat around his face, not to mention ruddied complexion.

Ryan started a response,

"I am very grateful that you did, I hope I can justify your faith in m...."

The Chairman cut Ryan short with a dismissive wave of the hand. His eyes never left Ryan's and his searching gaze began to unsettle Ryan.

[Andy Anon]

"You were the only applicant,"

The Chairman carried on,

"....and I do not have time to do it myself full-time," and with that the Chairman swung his legs from the desk and, for a man of his size, sprung to his feet with surprising speed and ease.

"Hmm, ok, it's like that is it? Like a Chelsea puppet manager am I?" Ryan thought to himself.

The Chairman came around the desk and stood in front of Ryan, his eye's never stopping the seemingly intense scruitiny of Ryan. Ryan felt a bead of sweat run down the inside of his arm.

"But we will work well together and I think I am going to like your way Ryan", the Chairman's face broke in to a huge smile and the scruitinising eye contact was broken.

Ryan wondered what the hell the Chairman meant by this, particularly because as far as Ryan was concerned the Chairman had no idea of Ryan's way of working just yet. It did little to ease the feeling that this job was not going to be quite what it had first seemed.

Ryan took the outstretched hand, shook it and tried to smile.

[Andy Anon]

"So, Ryan, tell me a little of your philosophy on how you are going to turn my hobby in to a successful venture," the Chairman beamed, now coming across as far more relaxed and gentle, even if Ryan continued to not feel anything like relaxed.

"Mr Chairman, the first thing I need to thank you for is the budget you have given me, it will certainly make my job a little easier."

That dismissive wave again, this time accompanied by a smile.

"You are welcome Ryan".

Ryan continued, "The bedrock of all my teams, and the essential qualities every squad member must have, is high determination, a high work ethic and to be wanting to be part of my team, i.e. wants to be there, values teamwork as highly as do".

The Chairman nodded "This is good....this is good".

"I will not have anyone who does not want to play for me, the first signs of this and they are gone", Ryan said.

[Andy Anon]

"And how do you like my team to play?" The Chairman probed.

Ryan noticed the use of the term 'my team' and wondered if it was a deliberate, yet subtle, laying down of boundaries to make clear exactly who would be wearing the trousers in this relationship. As if it were needed.

"I like a basic 4-1-2-1-2 line up, I do not envisage a team with wingers, but players who can play quickly, narrowly through the middle with pacy strikers pushing right up on the opposition last defender."

"My centre backs must be good aerially, and full backs must be able to cross the ball in the absence of natural wingers".

"Players out, players in? Any ideas?" the Chairman asked.

"No, not yet. I will be honest with you; I haven't done a lot of research. That is going to change as soon as this meeting is over. I have had a brief look at the squad profile and my first feelings are that this current squad are simply not good enough".

The Chairman raised an eyebrow at this.

"Really?" he asked, looking as surprised as he did intrigued.

[tenthreeleader]

Still working on the answer to your question. In the meantime, you might wish to consider making all the above into one post. You've got eight of them here and there's a possibility your readers might miss some of your work due to multiple posts appearing.

[Andy Anon]

Not sure I have any readers there 10-3. This one is for me, but if anyone else is reading, all cool.

But take your point, from now on will group up writings in to one post at a time.

No worries on working on the answer though 10-3, unless you want to clarify for your posting guidelines, rules FAQ's etc. I have changed details of story to take out the initial problem.

[footballmanagerlegend2k8]

Brilliant so far! KUTGW!

[tenthreeleader]

Do as you wish with your posting but if you want to use real names in the scenario you envision, add a disclaimer at the start of your work.

[Andy Anon]

Nice one 10-3, and thanks.

Kako došlo, tako prošlo.

[Andy Anon]

"Definitely Mr Chairman, I would be foolish not to maximise the use of your considerable kindness in setting such a high budget for me to manage."

The Chairman had gone back to 'scruitiny stare' mode.

"You don't buy anyone without checking with me first, clear?"

"Crystal, Mr Chairman", Ryan wondered if he should come to attention, smiling momentarily at old Army memories.

The Chairman appeared to relax and with an almost teasing smile went on to say,

"Anyway, 'simply not good enough' for what? I haven't told you what I expect yet, have I Ryan?"

"No, Mr Chairman, but I know what I expect", Ryan attempted at regaining some of the ground, not wanting to come across as anyone's fool or any kind of subservient 'do as you are told' puppet. Or muppet.

[Andy Anon]

The Chairman seemed amused at this.

"And what might that be Ryan?"

"Eredivisie football next season, and if I fail in that, you can send me on my way".

"I can send you on your way whenever I like Ryan. Let us not forget that". The Chairman's smile widened and held. "I only expect my team to consolidate its position this season, if you are still here at the end of the season we will re-assess you and my team then".

"Now Ryan, you have work to do. I travel much to take care of my....uhh....other business interests, however I am to be contacted at any time you need to speak, understand?".

[Andy Anon]

Ryan guessed that was his cue that the meeting was over as well as a gentle reminder that no player would be inward bound without a stamp of approval from the Chairman. Ryan nodded and turned to the door.

"Two more things before you go Ryan, my wife and I are having dinner this evening at a quite wonderful restuarant, I would like to invite you to join us".

Ryan could not think of anything he would like less, but got the impression it was not a request.

"Of course, Mr Chairman, that would be great".

[Andy Anon]

The Chairman looked at Ryan closely in such a way that Ryan felt as if he was being literally stripped bare, skin and all, and that the Chairman knew Ryan was lying through his gritted teeth.

"And secondly, please, enough of this 'Mr Chairman', you can call me Max".

Ryan nodded again and headed back to the sanctuary of his own office. The Chairman was not wrong about one thing. There was work to be done.

[Andy Anon]

Ryan might have done well to have remembered where he had last heard of a Dutch man with the name of "Max".

That he did not, was maybe the beginning of Ryan's downfall, right up there with when Max had seen fit to offer Ryan a dream re-start in offering him this role. A role Ryan had grasped with both hands without really thinking through...well much really.

Blinded by opportunity.

That he had not was also down to the fact that Ryan had tried for years to erase everything from his memory of the occasion he had last crossed paths with a Dutchman called "Max".

[Andy Anon]

Brilliant so far! KUTGW!

Thanks, much appreciated.