FM18 | Chaz Harvey Chronicles

[Eaglesfan1990]

June 2017

It was not the texture that hit me, but the smell. I sighed as I rolled off the couch onto the timber floor of my apartment. Right into a pile of fresh vomit from last night. Most people would call the last night’s party a wild one, but for me, it was merely a typical Saturday night.

I stumbled through the living room into the bathroom where I relieved myself and washed my face. I looked in the mirror and my sleep-deprived red eyes and not-so-subtle bags beneath them really stood out. I was 27 years-old and a deadbeat. At least, that’s what Maria said, the bitch.

Maria, or Satan for short, was my ex-girlfriend who tried to turn me into an altar boy. Someone who played by her rules and her rules only. I am not one to be tamed and to be honest, I should have seen it coming long before the three-year, eight-month relationship disbanded.

As I strolled to the kitchen, I passed all the usual remnants of a Saturday night at the Chaz Palace – unidentifiable stains, empty beer bottles, torn clothes and a smell that will probably linger for a full week. Ah, my life was just the best. No rights, no responsibilities. Being a trust fund baby and a professionally footballer, life had been good to me.

I cracked open a can of Coke – or was it already partially open? It is hard to say, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t care. Outside the window of my two-bedroom apartment I saw all the sights of New York City. Also known as the greatest city on earth. It was not quite the party capital of Las Vegas, but it was my little paradise.

I chugged the Coke and threw it behind my shoulder, not caring if it went in the bin – after all that’s what the cleaner was for. It didn’t, for the record. The cleaner was due at 11am and it was already 10.28. ****, I’d better get a move on, I’ve got things to do, people to see today. In the next 27 minutes I had moved from the kitchen to the shower to the bedroom and then to the front door, greeted by Ramona the cleaner. I tossed her the keys. “It’ll keep you busy in there today, Ramona,” I said with a grin ear to ear. She just nodded. Ramona knew the drill.

Just after 11 I hit the pavement in the late morning sun and felt my phone buzz. It was a message from a number I didn’t recognise. “Hey Chaz, thanks for last night, OMG it was amazing!!!”. Of course it was unidentified stranger, it is me after all. A second message buzzed through with the biggest buzzkill “Can we hang out again?”. I hated it when girls did not understand the concept of a one-night stand. It’s not a one-year stand or a fortnightly stand. Bloody clingy people. Reminds me too much of Maria.

Beep beep. I opened the boot of my Lamborghini and threw my kit bag in the back. It was not a long drive to the ground. I roared into the carpark, making sure to do a donut to pull up metres from coach and a few other players early to training. The look coach gave me was one of disparagement. Oh good, that’s the 289th straight day I’ve achieved that look.

“Morning coach, James, Jack,” I said as I nodded in James Sands’ and Jack Harrison’s direction. Coach was a fearsome man who took no ********, and I had always towed the line. But today seemed different. “Chaz we need to talk,” Patrick Viera said. “Isn’t that what we’re doing coach?” I said with a sarcastic tone. “In my office. Now,” he responded. Oh boy, another 100 push-ups again, better get the guns out.

Once inside Yankee Stadium, coach waited until I had walked through the door of his office before he slammed it shut, emphasising the noise. “Chaz, we’ve always been direct with one another yeah?” he said. “Of course coach, you coach, I play, it’s a great relationship,” I responded. “Well, you’ve really f***ed up now, Chaz,” he said. “Oh no, did I leave the tap running in the showers? Admin noticed the amount of towels missing from laundry? Is it about that parking fine, because you know I’ll get around to it…” “CHAZ!” Viera interrupted. I stopped abruptly. This was serious.

“Chaz I get it, you’re still relatively young, you like to party, it’s not a crime,” coach said. “But what happened to not ******** where you sleep?” he said. I cocked my head to the side. “Not quite sure what you mean coach?” I asked. “I hope you had fun last night,” Viera replied with a direct tone. “That brunette you screwed, remember her?” “Not really coach, last night is a bit hazy… if she says she didn’t consent she’s just a gold digger, because she totally digged it,” I responded. “See I even have a text from her this morning”. I pulled out my phone and flashed it under coach’s nose.

“Chaz it’s not what you did, it’s who you did,” Viera said. “That 20 year-old beauty is Charlotte Soriano.” He waited for me to click, but it was too early and I was only one hangover coffee down. “CHARLOTTE SORIANO,” Viera said souting. “SORIANO. As in Ferran Soriano’s daughter. As in Ferran Soriano the chief executive officer and one of the most powerful people on earth…” The penny dropped. Oh boy, this was not good. “Wait, how do you know?” I asked.

I could see coach was struggling not to bang his head against the table. “Chaz, you posted a pic online of the both of you in bed together overnight. Millions of followers have retweeted and shared it. You’re the main news story on every channel,” he said. My heart dropped. Now I knew I was in serious ****. This was not a prank where I left a flaming bag of dog poo on someone’s door. This was a ‘I’m finished’ situation. “What happens now, coach?” I said, with all the smirk disappearing from my face.

“Well it’s pretty simple, you’re done here,” coach said. “Your days at New York City are finished. Personally if I was you, I’d be getting the hell out of this country let alone the city. “You won’t be able to take a **** without someone identifying you. “You are going to be the most known face over the next few weeks and to be perfectly frank with you, a fresh start elsewhere is in your best interests.”

“But coach, I’m one of the best on the team, you need me!” I said. “It’s past that Chaz, you have a longer leash than most, fairly or unfairly, but you need to look yourself in the mirror and seriously wonder what you’re doing with your life and sort out your ****,” coach said. “I hope for your sake you do, but for f*** sake Chaz, you can’t stay here, you just have to take a long break, whether that’s a trip to the Caribbean, maybe heading to Europe, whatever you like, just get out and go.”

In my head I was spiralling. My apartment was only covered by the club, I was given a 30-day eviction notice. Most of my possessions were bought by the club as welcoming gifts to get me across from the Red Bulls youth academy. But they too were now being repossessed. I was going to be homeless. Well, homeless with a Lamborghini and a fairly healthy trust fund. Or so I thought.

“We’re sorry Mr Harvey, but your withdrawal declined,” the pretty blonde bankteller told me just seconds after I requested to pull out $1000 to get me through the day. “Try it again,” I said pushing my card towards her. Moments later she responded with a similar response. “I’m sorry, it appears you have a total of… $43 in your bank account.” “I’m sorry, $43? What in the actual f***?” I said. “Sorry sir, but it appears your service at the Lamborghini dealership took up the majority of your remaining amount,” she said. “There should be literally thousands of dollars in there,” I said. “I’m sorry sir, it’s all gone.”

I slumped on a park bench across the road from the bank. It was hard to fathom. I was now officially poor. I wondered what it felt like to be so deprived of money you could only afford pub meals and takeaway. But I knew I’d fix it, I’ll just call my daddy dearest.

[Eaglesfan1990]

June 2017 - Later that afternoon

“You’ve really f***ed up this time Chaz,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “Nice to talk to you too dad,” I responded. Charles Harvey was a very wealthy businessman in England and he had paid for my football scholarship to come to the United States. The US wanted to poach good English talents and at 18 years-old fresh out of school, I was on my way to college. It was a huge thing to be a teenager on big money in the States, which is Earth’s playground. I think it is fair to say I didn’t exactly make the most of my opportunities in the US. More than a few times I had treaded the line with regards to discipline and not meeting expectations. Nearly getting kicked out of college, then training with the Red Bulls on good money only to be poached by City with even better money on offer. The cars, the girls, the booze, sometimes the drugs, it was all amazing and let’s be honest, I loved it. But now I was paying for it.

“Chaz, you’ve successfully managed to **** all over one of the most powerful businessmen in the world,” father said. “We gave you everything as a child, and this is how you repay us? Did you see Thomas going off and splashing his cash? He is now a football manager. Making something of himself. And you? You’re still having flings and going on weekend binges like you’re 21 again. Grow up!”

He knew that stung. He knew I hated it when he compared me to Thomas the terrific. He was the golden son, the prodigy. I was the better footballer, but he had the better work ethic. He was five years my senior, but had already been coaching in the junior ranks and worked his way up to assistant manager and subsequently manager of Everton following the sacking Dutchman Ronald Koeman just a week ago.

“Dad please, what do you want me to do? I’ll join another club, maybe the Red Bulls will have me back, or another MLS club?” I said. “Chaz, enough is enough, you need to be taught a lesson and should have many years ago. I’ve pulled some strings and you’ll work for your brother at Everton. He said he could do with an extra coach for the under 18s,” he responded. “But Dad, you can’t…” “It’s too late Chaz, enough is enough. Your flight leaves in three days, so get your **** together, you’re flying to London.”

That was that. Father had spoken and what daddy wants, daddy gets. I was in no position to bargain. I would live in one of his little two-bedroom townhouses near the ground. Working for TTT (Thomas the Terrific) would be unbearable, but what could I do? Well I could start working on getting a job elsewhere to get away from him for starters. Father knew I would have more motivation if I was thrown in with Thomas. But nonetheless I had no other prospects and I had to start somewhere.

[Eaglesfan1990]

November 2017 - England

“Hey Chaz, kick us the ball here,” Thomas said with a smirk as he watched me attempting to carry 50 balls at once and momentously fail. I hated it so much. My older brother was my boss. It was a job, but it was an awful one. I booted the ball in his direction and he blocked it with his foot. “Alright boys,” he said to the other players, “we’ll begin with some match simulation.” He counted the players, “so there’s 21 players, we’re one short for a full game simulation.” Then his head turned in my direction. “Hey Chaz, wanna help a brother out?” he said. “That’s if you don’t try and hit on any of the players…” he laughed. The players erupted into laughter. It was ridiculous, I was the butt of all jokes here. I had to get out. Captain Phil was different though, he came over and gave me a pat on the backside “keep ya chin up mate,” he said. I walked over and stood next to Phil when the game started. I was playing in the attacking midfield opposing him. The game got underway and for the most part it was pretty tame. Players were running hard, but there was an instruction not to go hard as we did not want any injuries.

Before I knew it, Ross Barkley was streaming down the wing and he called my name. I looked up to see a ball floating into the box. I went up for a header as Phil beared down on me. Quickly I managed to header it to my advantage, flick the ball to his opposite side after he had committed and then had the rest of the ground open. I could feel Thomas’s eyes rolling as I ran away from Phil and moved in towards the keeper. As Jordan Pickford approached, I saw Wayne Rooney calling for the ball on my right I faked a shot attempt to catch Pickford off balance and then lobbed it out of his reach to Rooney on the far side who controlled it and slammed it home. “Nice play Chaz, maybe you are more than just a pretty face,” Wayne taunted. “Don’t get too excited boys, he’s prone to the odd play of brilliance,” Thomas said.

But that play was different. I felt like I belonged. I’d only really played in the US at a high level, but these Premier League players were at my standard. It was like a fire in my belly had been ignited. After the practice, I was on cloud nine. I was going to go to the Everton board tomorrow and ask if I could have a playing-coaching role. After all I had completed my National C Licence in the past couple of months.

I was in such a haze when I jumped in my Lamborghini I’d had shipped over here. I barely even knew the time, barely even saw the B-double and certainly didn’t see the red light.

[tenthreeleader]

Welcome. You're off to a terrific start here. Very interesting back story ... send us some more!

[Eaglesfan1990]

10 hours ago, tenthreeleader said:

Welcome. You're off to a terrific start here. Very interesting back story ... send us some more!

Thank you, I often read stories here and other forums but decided I might get around and post one. Be warned I am not a very good player haha, which is why I often try and put detail into the story line as my results often do not match those of other players

[Eaglesfan1990]

February, 2018

It was painful both physically and mentally. I was lucky to be alive, more so grateful to be alive. I don’t know how, because I slammed into the B-double truck at 60mph and doctors were stunned I lived to tell the story. The results were grim though. I’d badly broken both legs and cracked a vertebra in my back, among other injuries sustained in the crash. Everything hurt and I wasn’t dead but I sure felt like it. I was confined to a hospital bed for a couple of months, missing out on Christmas and New Year’s celebrations, and today was finally the day I could ditch the crutches and attempt to walk out the door – quite literally.

Before anyone asks, I was told I would never grace the football field again. The injuries were so severe, the cost of not losing my life was not playing football again. I was gutted. Just as I felt I was actually able to compete with some of the world’s best players, it was snatched away from me in an instant. But for everything bad I’d felt or thought about Thomas, I had to give him credit. Each day without fail – apart from when Everton was playing away – he had visited the hospital and given me updates on the team and how it was going. They had been up the top of the table for most of the season, sitting in the top six and European football beckoned. But there was more.

On this particular day, Thomas had news which I never saw coming as he helped move my stuff back into my townhouse. “Chaz I’ve had a few calls from lower league clubs asking about you,” he said. “Me? My footballing days are done, you know this,” I said with a sigh, staring at the canvas print of my City days, hanging on the wall of my apartment. “I’m not talking about your on-field role,” he said. “They are looking for potential managers, if not for now, then in the future. I know it’s a lot to take in, but the footage of that training session before the injury went viral because of the accident. Clubs haven’t stopped talking about it and while they were initially talking player contracts, they are now keen to pick your brains for management.” I was flabbergasted. “Wow, that would be something,” I said. “I just don’t know, I want to do it, but I’m not sure how I will cope.” “Honestly brother, and I’ll have to kill you if you tell anyone I said this, but you’ll do great,” Thomas whispered in my ear. “You’re not so bad yourself TTT,” I joked. It was a rare laugh we shared, but a special moment. Thomas had to get off to training, and I had to settle back into my place.

[tenthreeleader]

With regards to being a good FM player, it's secondary to the writing here. That said, it does help in terms of raw fun to walk a league every once in awhile. Good luck!

[Eaglesfan1990]

March 1, 2018

I smelled the fresh morning air. I had it pumping through my lungs as I ran through the streets of Everton, excited to just be able to run more than 100m without puffing. I had been working hard the last month to build my fitness and try and put myself in a position where I was not an overweight slob because let’s face it, you don’t want that kind of person leading a football club. I ran about 3km until I reached the closest newsagents. I always loved reading the local rag, it was heavily Everton-biased so news was never too far away. But today was different.

I bought the paper and flipped over to the back as I ordered my double strength latte from Vinny the local coffee vendor. “EVERTON’S HARVEY FAVOURITE FOR CHESTERFIELD JOB”. I laughed, why the hell would Thomas want to go all the way back to League 2? Then I read on and nearly spilt my coffee. You guessed it, they were talking about me.

My hands were shaking when I dialled Thomas’s number into my phone. “Is this legit?” I just yelled into the phone. “Ah I see you’ve got the morning paper,” my brother replied. “Yeah they’ve been a pretty big fan of yours since you returned to England and they actually rang me about 30 minutes ago once the news hit. They want you in for an interview.” I couldn’t believe it, but before I’d even hung up the phone I took off and headed home. Within a couple of hours I was at The Proact Stadium.

The stadium was no Goodison Park, but it was still a decent venue, especially for a League 2 club. Chesterfield had been relegated last season and were just below mid-table so far in the 2017/18 season. Owner Dave Allen and Chairman Mike Warner greeted me at the door and led me into the boardroom. Mike’s questions centred around my ability to spur the team on and keep harmony amongst the players unlike the previous manager.

The questions came in thick and fast, the club had a loan debt of £9.5 million and money was tight. I had expected that coming into the club so it was no surprise. Jack Lester had lasted just 237 days in charge, and finishing his one-season reign with a 29 per cent win-loss ratio. The board just wanted more success than what they had seen this season. They also wanted for me to bring in youth and build the youth and bring them in for key roles in the first team. I was keen on a dynasty so those requests suited me just fine.

[Eaglesfan1990]

March 6, 2018 11.15am

I fist pumped. I had hoped to receive an email from Chesterfield about the manager position after having completed my interview four days ago. Sure enough once I clicked open my inbox there was an email from Dave Allen just 17 minutes earlier. Chesterfield had offered me a one-year contract on £950 per week with 15 per cent promotion wage rise and a 35 per cent relegation wage drop clauses. I could not type “I accept” fast enough. It was a thrill and I was buzzing. I might not have had the chance to fulfil my potential on the field, but now I had the opportunity to do it off it.

I made the necessary calls to Thomas and Father to give them the news. They were both thrilled for me and naturally made the necessary arrangements to get out of my Everton duties. Being mid-season I was quick to organise an apartment in Chesterfield and move in over the next couple of days. After a brief conversation with Nicky Eaden the assistant manager and caretaker manager of late, I was pretty well prepared to hit the ground running the next day. I would be doing a lot of admin work catching up with everything Chesterfield related before I could even look to their next match.

The next match was a crunch game against Lincoln with the two sides neck-and-neck on the League 2 table just safe of the relegation zone. We were 10 points clear of a bottom two spot, but with 10 games remaining, there was still much to play out. Our form of late had been woeful and I had to change the dressing room before I could change the results.

[Diego Imposta]

This sounds like great fun! Looking forward to hearing more

[Eaglesfan1990]

March 6, 2018, 11.30pm

Founded in 1866, Chesterfield has won the fourth tier four times, in 1970, 1985, 2011 and 2014, while also winning the Checkatrade Trophy in 2012, and won the English third tier twice in 1931 and 1936. The club is affectionately known as The Spireites and retains a fierce rivalry with Mansfield Town.

The club background was informative and told me about a club which was not overly successful but had been consistent throughout its long history. They had dipped their toes in the second tier early on in the 20th century, but were traditional third and fourth tier competitors. But their history was not important to me, only the present and how I could use it to adjust to the future would be. I had so many emails I knew I would need to get to, but for now it was time to go for celebratory drinks. After all, I had a job and it was my first drink in several months, something I had sworn not to do until I was back on the straight and narrow. Now I was, it was time to let my hair down.

I parked my Lamborghini outside the Royal Oak. It was the most historic pub in the town and renowned for a good brew. Parked alongside all makes and models of late 90s, early 2000s cars, my beauty really stood out and raised eyebrows. I walked in and took a place at the bar. “Rum and coke please mate,” I told the bartender. “You’re the new Chesterfield manager aren’t ya?” he said. “I recognise ya face from the papers.” I nodded, skulling the rum and coke then indicating for another. “Boy you might want to just settle into the job before hitting the town mate, people here aren’t too happy about our form of late and seeing the new bloke already drowning his sorrows isn’t a good look.” I scoffed. “No sorrows here mate,” I said. “Just can’t wait to get started. I’ll get your boys back on the right path.” He gave me an unconvincing look. I felt more than his eyes on me. “I’d better get going anyway,” I said. “I’ll catch you fellas’ round.” And with that jumped into the car and floored it to my apartment a few kilometres away.