Ep.2 Transfer Time

"10 million! They must be having a laugh!" I recoiled in horror as the figure washed over me; the Everton board were as stingy as ever. This would not do. I needed a new right-back, enforcing defensive midfielder and an exotic winger, all for 10 million. I had three weeks.
     For hours I trawled the transfer market, searching player profiles from all corners of the globe, each one being too expensive or recently joined new clubs. The reaction was always the same: jog on. That's when I found him. The archetypal full-back for my style of football: a combination of blistering speed, pin-point crossing and defensive solidity. Gregory Van Der Wiel was his name and I picked him up for a fee of around four million no problems posed; I was getting good at this game job. Next up was the defensive mid and I knew only one man up to the task.
"Get me on the next plane to Ghana, I need to see a man about a beast.". Not being real, my assistant manager didn't tend to follow my instructions much. Typical...
     Now, the majority of players I buy are African or of African decent, call me Allan Pardew, but it is all for good reason. Generally they tend to be more hardworking, faster, stronger and deadlier than any other continentals. I for one would prefer a player raised on the streets of Konongo rather than a dodgy council estate in Greater Manchester. After already agreeing a fee with his club, AC Milan, I travelled to Ghana to attempt to coax Sulley Muntari back to England. He was having none of it.
"I am happy here at my current club and feel a move away would affect my career negatively." After offering more money and feigning surprise at his miraculous change of heart, I headed back to Merseyside to engineer my final transfer: the Belgian Roland Lamah. For 1.5 million he had near to sod all technical ability but who cares? This guy was fast, strong, not Leon Osman, fast, decent crossing, fast. He had the lot. Did I mention he was fast?
"Charlie, are you alright?"
"What?"
"You were lying on the floor, repeatedly mumbling "fast" and drooling down your chin"
"Oh well," I shrugged "Pre seasons not gonna play itself"

Ep. 1 Big season

My brain raced. New season. New club. New suit. New start. It begins here. This was my chance to prove myself as a manager, the board knew as well as I did how much of a risk it was signing an unproven manager in a footballing world as competitive as ours. My team was Everton: The Toffees, The Merseysiders, That other team in Liverpool. This would be the year that Everton would be the top team in Scousland.

All this flashed through my mind as I inserted the disc and my Xbox churned into life. Sitting down with a strong tea and a Kit Kat, I mentally prepared myself for the task at 

hand and assessed the squad situation.

Introducing myself to the players at the first training session, I gathered my first impression of each one as well as the squad as a whole. Big. Physical. Plenty of six-footers with the tallest, our star man Marouane Fellaini despite his irritable hair. I had already decided on a suitable starting line-up while making a mental note of those soon to be on the transfer list as I explained my policies.                                            

“Alright lads, while I’m here we’re gonna be playing a 4-1-2-1-2 which means the fastest people will be starting” some worried faces mainly from Phil Neville. “If we’re gonna get any sniff of Europa league this season, we’ll do it my way,” I continued “So we can overturn those Anfield prats and return as the top team in this city!” Cheers from the players now. This would be a great season.

“Charlie, pause that game! Dinner’s ready”

“One minute” Bloody mum, she knows nothing. This is more than a game, It’s a lifestyle.