Hello all. My name is Feliks and I have been reading stories on here for quite some time, but I've never really wanted to actually write a story. However, I was looking through the site's FM13 Downloads list and I discovered this. Jun2042. It's a save file in 2042 for FM13, and I instantly thought to myself, "Wow, that would conjure up some opportunities." Also, it has English leagues to the 8th tier so I downloaded it and I will be writing a story about my managerial career in 2042. Another bonus is that I usually get emotionally attached to regens anyway! So without further ado, let's get started.


I will be Feliks Zemdegs, a once promising footballer in Manchester United's youth academy spat out into the abyss of unemployment. Stranded in England, far from home with no money, Feliks is ready to do anything for a warm bed and some food.


I will be starting unemployed, with a preference for a lower league club. The leagues loaded are England (Premier League to Regional First Divisions).


Although I appreciate that the majority of stories here are done in newspaper articles, I prefer to write personally, and anyway, it's not like the Regional First Divisions get massive media coverage anyways!

• To climb the English football pyramid
• To promote the use of youth in my teams

That is all really.



Outroduction


As a rookie, I know that this story will not attract the attention of a story by say, Walter or Pauker, but it would be much appreciated if you could leave a comment and get this story going because no-one likes to read a story where the last post was days ago.

Please enjoy, I love to write and it would be great to join the community!

You're very welcome mate - enjoy, and you have a reader in me!

I love future stories and i will be following

They knew I was quick, too quick for them. They tried to corner me, but I dribbled straight through them. Looking behind, the gasps of realisation were like music to my ears. Knowing that I was better, my confidence grew. But the only obstacle in my way was Marc Cooke, the prodigious Marc Cooke. I had never gotten along with Cooke; he already had BPL experience and I was just the new kid daring to unseat the emperor. I locked eyes with him, he was the gate to the penalty box, the gate to my future. I ran straight at him, feigned to go left, pushing my left shoulder to that side. I went to nudge the ball back to my right when-


I never remembered what happened that day. Cooke forced his leg onto mine, and I flipped landing on my head. They say I had potential brain damage, and that I should never play again. Now Marc Cooke is Manchester United legend and I am a nobody, if it weren't for him I'd be there instead. I need to return to football, it's been too long. 8 years of drifting in Manchester, watching as the clubs achieved success and feeling thoroughly left out. I need to become a manager. It is the only way back for me.

I have never followeda future story so will be good to see what happens

It was a cold night in Burgess Hill, and after a long night of alcohol and a taxi ride to the other side of the country I just felt like falling over in a field. That’s exactly what I did.
The next morning, I was woken up by a flashlight shone in my face. I woke up and quickly took in my surroundings. I was not in a field, in actual fact I was sleeping with my head on a penalty spot. A jumble of letters formed on a nearby sign- Leylands Park, home of Burgess Hill FC. The letters rejumbled when a harsh voice pierced my ears.


“What the hell are you doing here lad!”
“Uh,uh. I don’t.... know.” I couldn’t even speak properly. Last night must have been hectic.
“Well I know! You came to ruin me pitch! I’ve had a whole year to get this bloody field ready for football and now you’re here to wreck it! Oh, I bet you play for them darned Hassocks! Those non-leaguers, jealous of our success! I’ll teach you a lesson!” The man was English, about 50 years old with red hair and a huge moustache. His face was now red.
“I don’t play for no hassles.” I puffed out my chest in a drunk show of manliness. “I played for Manchester bloody United you fool.”
The man’s expression changed from bewildered to exasperated.
“Well, well, why didn’t you say so lad! Wellsy will want to see you immediately.”
I had no idea what I had gotten into, but I got into this mysterious man’s car and drove to the local pub, the Railway.



We pulled up to the Railway. I was sitting in the back, and before I could open my door, the red headed man opened it for me.
“I used to be a chauffeur, you know. The name’s Merlin Cadogan, by the way. Not the escape artist. Don’t know him? Good, I’m the best Merlin Cadogan anyway. I’m the groundskeeper for Burgess Hill FC. In fact, I’m the only staff member here. Enough of me rambling, let’s go see Wellsy.”
I followed Merlin into the pub. It felt tacky and looked like a lot of other pubs I had been to. I recalled a scene from one of my favourite old movies, “At World’s End”. The Railway also seemed strangely familiar for some reason.
I walked over to the bar, where a man in a suit was attempting to chat up the bartender. He clearly had had too many drinks and was swaying, almost rhythmically. I almost caught myself bobbing my head in time with his movements.
“Wellsy. This is- well, I actually don’t know who he is. You better introduce yourself lad.”
“Um, my name is Feliks, and I have no clue why I’m here.” It was a very awkward situation.
Merlin piped up for me. “He used to play for Man U, sir. He knows football.”
‘Wellsy’ finally stopped staring at the bartender’s chest and looked at me. He laughed.
“Ha, he reckons he played for Man U. He couldn’t run a mile without calling a cab!”
I admit, I am not in good condition. But I wasn’t about to be insulted by this wreck.
“I was a youth prospect. Got seriously injured, told I couldn’t play again.”
Wellsy just laughed again, and fell over. Merlin led me out of the bar, and told me I should come see him another time.

Lovely, lovely start mate. Will definitely be following this from now on. Something tells me Feliks is gonna end up with a part to play at Burgess Hill!

2014-05-19 03:30#175461 fmhunter : Lovely, lovely start mate. Will definitely be following this from now on. Something tells me Feliks is gonna end up with a part to play at Burgess Hill!

I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?

Interesting start, good luck with whoever you go to

Two weeks, later, and I was still unemployed and penniless. It was now early July, and although I tried to enjoy the English ‘summer’, it was still miserable. I was directionless; I had no idea what to do. But on Thursday the 3rd of July, my life suddenly had new meaning. It all began with a phone call.


“Hello, is this Feliks Zemdegs?”
“Yes.” I was intrigued, I had not even used my phone in 4 months because no one knew me.
“My name is Paul Smith. I’m the chairman at Ardley United and we’d love to have you come onboard as our manager.”
I was flabbergasted. How did the chairman of an Oxfordshire team know who I was?
“Um, um, how do you know about me?”
“Well, word got out that you were at Man U! I did a little research, and it seems that you could have been a legend there were it not for your injury.”
Wow. Word sure got around fast in 2042.
“Um, yeah, I’m not too sure about my future. I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up the phone in panic. What’s going on! Am I some kind of celebrity in the English lower leagues! I went back to the Railway for a relaxing drink. While I was there, I received calls from Aylesbury and Flackwell Heath.



I sat down at the bar of the Railway, having just received a call from Flackwell Heath. I was panicking, my heart rate was elevated, what will I do! I am just about to down some tequila when a man sits next to me and holds my wrist.
“Put that down mate. Trust me, you don’t want to drink that after this.”
I turned, bewildered. It was ‘Wellsy’, the drunken fool from a couple of weeks back!
“I apologise for my behaviour a couple of weeks ago, I had a tendency of getting horribly drunk sometimes. I’m sure you’ve had an experience of the kind.”
Yes, and that experience has led me here, to this bar.
“My name is Matthew Wells, co-founder and president of Wells Refineries. I am also the owner of Burgess Hill FC. I know, I know, it sounds silly but again, I was drunk and me and a mate had a bet over the ownership of a club. I lost, so now I’m stuck with this wreck of a club and that imbecile Merlin as the groundskeeper. Part time, of course, I’d never pay that blithering idiot. But back to the subject, I’ve decided that the only way this club can move forward is with a young determined team. You and me, Feliks. How about it?”
I was amazed. This guy was a billionaire, stuck with a lower league club and wanting the help of an unemployed hasbeen. But I was still unsure.
Matt could sense my hesitance.
“Look, Feliks. I understand your situation man. You’re hungry, you don’t have a bed. Hell, I bet you’ve got no idea what to do with your life. I can set you up. Together, we can go places with Burgess Hill and you can climb the pyramid and become whatever you want to be! You are potential. I am the catalyst. Together, we can make a spark that shocks England! Still unsure? Here, read it.”
He slid me a vanilla envelope. I opened it.


475 pounds a week! And that transfer budget, damn, that’s bigger than some League 2 clubs.
“I do not mess around in my business, Feliks. You will always have the full financial backing of Wells Refineries. If you want the job, meet me at Leylands Park tomorrow morning.”
Matthew Wells turned and left, just like that. I stared at the contract, the piece of meaning in my hands, and numbly signed my name.

Fantastic start mate, thanks for the mention:)

2014-05-19 06:50#175477 Walter : Fantastic start mate, thanks for the mention:)

no worries!

Really nice start mate! I'll be following this very closely.

I rocked up at Leylands Park at 9 am. At the gate, I was met by Merlin Cadogan, the friendly chauffeur/groundskeeper. He led me inside, through the grandstand on onto the park. Matt Wells was waiting for me in the middle of the pitch with about 15 or so men behind them.
“Welcome to Leylands Park! Home of the Hillies, Burgess Hill FC. Welcome to your new club Feliks. I assumed you signed the contract?”
I nodded, and passed him the envelope. He looked over it, smiled and put it in his breast pocket.
“Perfect. Now we can begin training. We were banned from competition last year so these guys have volunteered to play. Have fun with them Feliks.”
“Um, Matt! Can the assistant manager take them? I’d like to go over some details with you.”
The group of players quietly laughed, as if I had told some funny little joke.
Matt smiled as well. “I was meaning to tell you Feliks, we have no staff. Unless you count Merlin, which I don’t.”
“Oi, I’m a valuable member of the team aren’t I?” Merlin stomped off.
I guess I’m taking training then.



The team were truly woeful. They had literally been picked off the streets of Burgess Hill. It seemed any healthy men between the age of 18 and 36 in this town were out here, and there were only 17. I watched as the so called sharpshooter Rory Marsden missed goal after goal, and as the goalie Grant Renton flopped around trying to make himself look good. I didn’t even bother giving a team talk, I just left them in the hands of the returned Merlin and left halfway through. I went into the boardroom and found Matt having a quiet one.
“These guys couldn’t hit a barn door Matt! And if they get the 1 in a 1000 kick at the goals the goalie would let it go through their legs! You’ve got to be kidding me mate!”
Matt was unperturbed. He looked at me whimsically.
“Have you ever been to see a Ryman Division 1 match, Feliks?”
“No.”
“Well, then I’d suggest you do because you will learn that out here, physicality is everything. We might not have a Carpenter or Arnau or Jeronimo, but we might be able to pick up the next Usain Bolt of this league. Work with me. You have a huge transfer budget and wage budget. Get yourself some scouts and a ass.manager and go out and sign some guns. Then complain to me about how bad they are.”

Great update