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Indian Superstar - A Marketing Gimmick

Jayant Sharma, former amateur footballer from India finds his feet in football management
Started on 15 July 2018 by Akash
Latest Reply on 17 July 2018 by ScottT
I've not done this in a while so let me describe how this story will work. I'll be playing FM18 with this fictional character but there'll be a good chance there'll be no mention of the game or its contents for a large chunk of my posts. While I'll weave my results into my posts, they'll probably not play a major role into how the personal side of the story is told. With that said, I hope you enjoy the story; I've not written something in a while so not sure if it's any good. Have fun!

The Special List

After finding no success in my playing career, languishing in the fourth division of Indian football, coupled with the fact that football coaching was unsustainable locally, I started working on my FA coaching licenses at the age of 22. A novel idea in principle but leaving home for a new country for the very first time and resources being limited, this new life isn’t going as planned.


I wake up at the sound of the alarm, and immediately jump off the bed, wide awake. It’s not that I was excited about the day to come, far from it. If I don’t feign excitement, I’ll leave my team without a coach for today’s match for the warmth of my bed.

“Another day, just another day”.

I stretch, being careful not to hit the lights or fan attached to the ceiling. It’s not the most spacious room but it’s the best I could afford in this city. Like clockwork, I turned to the wall behind my bedpost to remind myself why I’m here. It’s too dark and I can’t see a thing.


“Open up!”

I realized it wasn’t my phone alarm but my doorbell, on hearing the muffled voice from the other side of the door. I gingerly walk towards the sound, feeling uncomfortable in the dark. I swing the door open away from the familiar voice and stench outside.

“Sorry, Jay. Lost my keys again. I don’t know what I would –"

My roommate, Emmanuel, stopped mid-sentence for his almost-weekly ritual of vomiting after a wild night of drinking. Emmanuel referees some of the games I coach; that’s how we met and came to become roommates. With him sure to occupy our bathroom for the foreseeable future, I resumed my daily ritual by switching on the light – which flickered on painfully slowly.

If it needs changing, I just hope my eccentric roommate has some cash saved up.

I glance back at large sheet of paper above my headrest, which was now visible.
  • Finish the league season with at least one victory
  • Complete the course & get my first coaching badge
  • Coach a local amateur team

  • The list went on, until it ended with the last goal written in a significantly larger font.

  • Win the European Champions League

  • “Write down your goals; they’ll only come true if the universe knows it. You can’t just keep it all in your head”

    We’d met right after school; she didn’t know much about football but was taken by my passion for the game. I’d asked her once after she came back to my place why she still maintained and carried around a diary, and, soon, she’d started pestering me about writing down who I wanted to be. She wrote down her life story because it reminded her how special every day was and how good the future could be.

    The reality is - she was special. In another world, I would be building my home with her, instead of bunking with Emmanuel in a tiny, dirty room that was starting to smell worse since his visit to the loo. On the last day before I left home and said my goodbyes, I looked back and saw my girlfriend with her fingers crossed – wishing me luck. This list was a way of making sure that she and the universe know I haven’t forgotten about her.

    I wore my trainers, picked up the cones and placed them back in the bag, before leaving the room. The public school ground was where all the Under-8 age group matches were held before school hours, so it was still before sunrise as I jogged towards it.

    Setting up the cones for goals and demarcating the confines of the ground itself, making sure there's arrangement of water and juices for the players and enough clean seating for the parents - all of this and much more fell under my job description. This usually took me around an hour.

    "It's not looking good, boss. You have a long day ahead of you."

    Jamie, the school guard was an acquaintance but could hardly be called a friend. I was still surprised and confused he had said more than his pleasantries as I walked in through the school gym, towards the ground.

    The ground was trashed; the torn banners and pamphlets seemed to indicate there was a reunion party of some sort last night, and the alumni were clearly weren't fans of the dustbins placed sporadically around the area.

    'They're really going to make me earn my payday', I thought to myself as I joined to help out the cleaning staff.

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