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[FM13]The Adriatic Adventure [Hajduk Split]

FM 13
Started on 12 May 2013 by tbendis
Latest Reply on 10 August 2015 by tbendis
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2014-09-09 17:03#193687 Rablador : The greatest youths in the world, we've just got to hope they don't splash all that dosh on a flashy lifestyle only to become penniless nobodies. I'm sure that won't happen...

Will you be continuing this story into FM15, Timmy?

There is a far larger chance that I continue this story than to start a new, FM15 story, yes.

The U19 league has given me an extra challenge, so I've got that going for me, which is nice.
tbendis's avatar Group tbendis
9 yearsEdited
update 8/15
The hugely intelligent football manager, who has become something of a legend within the Dalmatian city, announced his bid to become the mayor of Croatia’s second largest city.

Split, which leads the Mediterranean in tourism income, partly thanks to Bendiš putting the city on the map to a massive audience… with each home game for Hajduk essentially being a commercial for the local tourist board, is thought to be a hugely important race within the country, as the sheer amount of votes the representative garners, not just from the city, but the entire coastal region, plays a huge part in the election of the Croatian Prime minister. And, realistically, this worries the country’s two major parties. To lose such a vital city to an independent, would essentially be ceding control of the country’s elections, at least for the next five years, to an independent.

This, naturally, is leading towards it being the largest spending election campaign that Croatia has ever seen. The two parties have been sparing no expense to advertise on local airwaves, trying to get their own candidate’s points across. And, then, nearly simultaneously, they issued attack ads against the Hajduk manager during the team’s European Super cup game.

The same European super Cup Game which Bendiš stormed to a 3-0 victory in Geneva.

… and, with that, the polls dropped from a, relatively even, three way split, to Bendiš taking an enormous lead, paving the way for the Hajduk manager to take the post, and start a second job.

It was on the same day that Bendiš announced the signing of one of the biggest prospects in Croatian football. Dalibor Bošnjak, curiously named exactly the same as Timmy’s former Croatian hero in his 2008 save with AC Milan, for 8 million euros from Inter Zapreši?. Apparently, the whole deal drove Bendiš to a state of fury, as he realized that his scouting team, one of the best in the business (as demonstrated by his youth team) seriously dropped the ball on signing Bošnjak, as he had only joined Inter six months prior.

But, what’s done is done. At 16, it will be the last addition to Bendiš’s youth squad for at least six months

But, even for 8M, it looks like one of the greatest transfers Bendiš will ever make.
shame to not get him for far, far less but still a great capture
Update 9/15
And then everyone knew…

The Vitesse manager made his way down his stands, as he prepared to watch his team play against Hajduk. The U19 Champions League was always a nice occasion to have. Scout what was coming up in a few years… play against a team which you may have no chance of beating their seniors, and riding them off the park.

It was a fun event to be part of, especially if you won a few games… give the juniors a whif of European competition.

What he didn’t expect was seeing his youth team line up against 90% of Hajduk’s transfer business over the summer… and even less expected was watching Bendiš line up next to them to take the squad shot.

He turned to his right, noticed the Schalke and the Dinamo Kiev scout standing next to him with their jaws dragging along the floor, as they took good note of how many goals Bendiš would win by.

And then, a few minutes late, and with two beers in his hands, an English journalist milled onto the stands and nearly dropped both.

Only Bendiš would field an U19 team that could walk Vitesse’s seniors off the park.

In, what has seemingly become a masterstroke, Ante Bendiš, the cousin of the illustrious Hajduk manager (who is simultaneously leading the U21s to an unprecedented run of form) has lead the Croatian senior team from an absolutely dismal 75th place to what is currently a 32nd place, and an almost guaranteed spot in the upcoming European Championships.

The upcoming tournament in Spain is notable for being Hajduk’s Golden Generation’s first major international tournament, and, for several of them, the last.

And with Croatia’s resurgence comes one of the last records Tomislav Kiš has yet to beat… and he’s so… so close. With two goals left to go, Kiš is only at 69 caps, and, at 29, he’s hitting his best football yet, playing at the peak in a beautiful 4-3-3.

The question is: can Kiš make his one European Championship count? Or, like his tutor of the last decade, Steven Gerrard, will he fail at the final hurdle.
I just know Kiš will dominate the Euros ;)
Hey, tis me again, with a comment on story writing.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that it is incredibly difficult to write a long-term story. And, by long-term, I don’t necessarily mean something that is meant to go on 50 pages, 100 pages, 500 pages, etc… I’m referring to a story such as my own, where you write without and end in sight.

In writing a novel, it is very easier to begin by planning your whole story out, similarly to how I’m doing it for my video game: there is a set plot, and you follow it by elaborating on certain points. There’s an obvious climax, a buildup etc.

When writing a FM story, especially one as long winded as mine, you have to have several peaks, several moments of intense “action” several buildup sequences, several climaxes.

For example, so far in my story, we can count off the various climaxes: we began with the agent fiascos, each of them a sort of mini-peak for the story, before building up to the financial insecurity that Hajduk suffered that I brought it out of. Then we had the girl, which had the obvious climax of the girl leaving me. Then we had the 2nd girl, with the obvious, and, if I say so myself, brilliantly orchestrated, climax of Marseille.

That’s not even counting the so far un-used buildups of me getting shot in the shoulder by an unidentified source, the storyline I can follow with my brother, Matko Kardum’s father, etc…

See, this is the difficult part about writing an open ended story. To keep everyone entertained, I have to think up of a new climax every few pages, build up to it, etc. It’s like writing several novels, or, if you’d rather put it this way: if a story is a mountain, with a buildup and a climax, and all the fun stuff, mine is akin to the Alps.

It’s probably easier to write a purely football related story… just the results. Just the plays. Just the tactics. But God only knows who would read through a decade and a half of low-content match updates. And what’s the bloody point of putting a whole bunch of screens in with little or no text?

Right now, I’m working through my whole mayor thing, but if you haven’t noticed quite yet, there have been several updates which have been primarily about football, rather than a background… which has sort of been more of my trademark.

The more eagle-eyed of you will notice that I’ve been stalling, as I try to come up with it.

And, without further ado… another football update… with some mayor stuff leaked in.

update 10/15
Real Betis 3-0 HNK Hajduk Split
There may be a little too much on Timmy Bendiš’s mind, as his Hajduk side capitulated to the Real Betis side lead by Bojan Krkić. What with Bendiš managing the Croatia U21s, the Hajduk U19s, the Hajduk senior squad, as well as manufacturing a successful bid for the open position of Mayor of Split, it is entirely possible that the famously mercurial Dubrovnik native is, perhaps, slightly overworked.

Of all the competitions to fail at, though, the Champions League has the be the last. With nearly 100 million euros at stake… losing to Krkić and co…

Well… it’s nearly unforgivable.

Looking to teach the Spaniards “what’s what”, Bendiš lined up with his devastating 4-3-3, which caused so much wrath last season, tearing a potent Arsenal side to shreds at the Emirates, before performing so much better at home.

And then he watched, as his famous team, his beautiful team, fell to pieces, looking every bit like the worst Hajduk side in a generation. Real Betis just attacked. Bojan playing the exemplary trequartista, fed his two pronged attack, as Hašib Ramić was forced to pull every save he knew out of a hat. At 20, he was playing far beyond his years, before Bojan finally had enough.

Receiving the ball on the outside corner of the box, the Catalan took one step inside Ždilar, and curled the ball around a fully outstretched Ramić to open the scoring just after the half-hour mark, before he turned to the stands, arms outstretched, and soaked up the rabid ovations of the home crowd, as the Serbian keeper slammed his fist on the rain-soaked ground.

The rain didn’t help Hajduk, who, traditionally, aren’t very good at playing out of their elements. If it’s not sunny, Hajduk are pegged down a few notches, which is probably at least part of the reason that Bendiš Arena has a retractable roof.

But it didn’t stop, and neither did Betis, who, instead of succumbing to Hajduk’s long, pinpoint balls, passed circles around the midfield, before Bojan scored his second. This time, a real poacher’s effort, but an effort nonetheless, as Bendiš was reduced to a subdued fury.

Only when Betis scored their third goal, through their defensive midfielder, did Bendiš finally lose it at his team. Gone was the constructive critic. Gone was the man who would be mayor, who knew patience, and how to manipulate a crowd. This was Bendiš ten years ago, when Hajduk were losing against U19 squads.

And, despite a decade of glory, this was not something that Bendiš would ever allow again.
Wow. A Hajduk loss. To Real f*cking Betis with Bojan f*cking Krkic as their star player. Come along now, Timmy...what on earth happened?!
update 11/15
Timmy stepped off the plane in Split. Or rather, an exhausted Timmy stepped off the plane in Split.

48 hours ago, Bendiš just arrived in Gombe, in Nigeria, to sign a deal with the local side, Gombe United, and make sure that the very best of Nigerian footballers came through the very best youth academy in the world. One of Hajduk’s two private jets taxied down the stretch, before an optimistic Bendiš, dressed to the nines in an impeccable cream suit, threw on his sunglasses, and walked down the ladder to greet the governor of the province. The two shook hands vigorously, wove at the camera, before entering a long black Mercedes hovering a few inches from the ground.

The new S class always was on a different level.

“Mr. Bendiš, it is an absolute pleasure to finally meet you. When we heard here that you were looking into opening a Hajduk youth outlet, we did our very best to come up with the ideal presentation.”

Deviously charming, but perpetually dangerous when angered, Bendiš responded like anyone else who just got off a 10 hour flight would, “That’s all well and good Nehele, but there’s two things I want right now: dinner, and a shower.”

And, with a booming laugh, the Nigerian politician waved at the driver before the two engaged in conversation, as if they had been friends for years; before Bendiš chortled at the joke his new colleague had to tell.

But it was destined to be a long night, as the two men started at one bar, before moving to the next; Nehele Brimo introducing the Croatian manager to a new set of people in each locale. Each new group thrilled to meet the legend that took Hajduk from nothing, and turned it into a global football superpower. Word spread quickly, and what was a quiet Thursday night in downtown Gombe, a little town of 200 000 people, turned into a bustling crowd, work be damned. It wasn’t as if any of them would ever have the chance to meet someone like Bendiš again.

Bendiš began the evening only repeating “all right, just one more Nehele, but then we go home”, but, by the time he had said “just one more” five or six times, Bendiš had lost count. The stream of bars and cafés just a bit too much to take in. It was like Split, only it was foreign, new. The people all the more excited to see him, the eager fathers with young kids chasing him down all over again. The two men passed by a field that wasn’t much more than dirt and watched some teenagers play for twenty minutes before Bendiš joined them, and suffered the ignominy of accomplishing absolutely nothing against the African teens.

He noted sadly that none of them would come through the ranks as Hajduk defenders anytime soon, for even for all their grace and touch on the ball, not one was tall or strong enough to challenge the very best center forwards in Europe.

After the game, the African politician, who could have only won for being the absolute kindest person on this side of the Mediterranean, said, “I’ve only one more person that you must meet. I promise. Last one, then we go *pfffft* to the hotel, and we all finish this tomorrow.”

“Last one?”

Nehele held one finger up and promised “last one, you lazy bastard”

The two of them walked a little bit further downtown, before turning down an alley when Bendiš’s ear involuntary twitched, before he heard it: an instrumental version of Piano Man, one that seemed eerily familiar, so familiar, in fact…

“You cheating bastard… you knew we were going to a jazz club”

“What, me?” Nehele was the picture of innocence.”I’m just an innocent bystander. There’s no way I could’ve known that you, perhaps, might enjoy a round at the piano.”

They rounded the corner, before a large crowd stood up in applause, Bendiš milling through the crowd, shaking hands, waving, before taking his seat at the piano.

“ALRIGHT, LAST ONE!” Bendiš shouted, knowing full well that he wasn’t going anywhere, as Nehele guffawed in the background.”

The next day, the deal was signed. A youth academy in Nigeria. It would be Bendiš’s 4th such academy, with one in Brazil, one in Egypt, and one in Mexico.

He, after a night of partying, somehow made it onto the plane the next morning, Maro Badić waiting in the doorway, what with work to be done. the election in the coming months, deals to be made. For all the fanfare surrounding the obvious victory that was Bendiš’s to lose, it was not the election but the steps afterwards were far more concerning.

And Bendiš still needed to figure out how to rid himself of the Admiral and the General from their little group. There would be no need for flip-flopping military leaders under his administration, and, with a convenient trip to Nigeria, Dadić and Bendiš could discuss the possible replacements to the treasonous duo when they met their inevitable demise.

The Split breeze met Bendiš's face as he waved to the crowd at the airport. His own Mercedes parked on the tarmac. His jovial personality left in Nigeria, only the cold, calculating, ruthless manager left for Split.
Dat piano B-)
Update 12/15, tee hee, we’re cutting it close
The Sunday Times - London
In a landslide, Timmy Bendiš became the youngest person, at 31, to win the coveted centerpiece election of the Dalmatian coast. The charismatic football manager of Split's local club has enjoyed astounding success since taking over the club a decade ago, and has maintained a very loud, somewhat radical presence on the coast of Croatia… criticizing several local and regional politicians for bending to the will of the capital, and eventually forcing their resignation or facilitating devastating losses in their future campaigns.

Bendiš’s election, while expected, was still a brutal attack on inland interests, taking money away from the richer coastal regions, which have been rejuvenated with the Bendiš and Badić estates’ massive investments into the tourism and the education of the region, and simply giving into what has become the fiercely corrupt province surrounding the capital, Zagreb. It has been several years in the making, but now, finally, the population has reacted to Bendiš’s decision to run for the mayor of the centerpiece of the Adriatic coast.

And it was reflected as the rest of the votes came in. Rijeka, Pula, Dubrovnik, Zadar, and Šibenik all voted in massive numbers to oust the capital supported candidates from office, ending several prominent careers in politics, to install relatively inexperienced, but nonetheless very well educated radicals, all closely aligned with Bendiš’s independent party’s ideals. And, while Zagreb may have seen it coming; evidenced by several pleas and promises of vast reform in the political systems of the country, many seats in the parliament were also awarded to independents, reflective of Bendiš’s refusal to run with an official party, citing the drunken rages that always happened when he threw parties in the past.

But, for all of the hubbub surrounding the elections in Split, the rest of Dalmatia, Istria, and the South, Zagreb still controls the parliament, with an oddly cobbled together coalition forming between the historic conservatives, and the historic liberals, simply to maintain a modicum of control. The question, however, isn’t whether the independents control the parliament or not, nor who is the acting president, nor who is the acting Prime Minister. The question remains whether the national government will have any influence at all in what happens in the upcoming six months. Because, while Tomislav Ljubojević was celebrating his victory in Zagreb, beating his opponent with just over 73% of the vote (to Vilson Grgić with 29%), the victory parties along the coast were short, and interrupted by flights leaving the cities late at night, all traveling to Split.

While it can be argued that Zagreb should have been worried before, now that the elections are finished, it is only a matter of months before observers abroad see what the illustrious football manager, Timmy Bendiš might bring to the table, and how his election, and the rest of the elections on the Adriatic, leave a country perilously close to a new, unexpected, era.

“Well that was utter bullshit”

A single lightbulb flickered from the ceiling, on a cold winter’s night in Zagreb, illuminating a dark basement where only two men sat in the center. Lightning cut across the sky only visible through a lone window at the top of the room, rain pouring against the glass. A tall figure, shadows playing across his face, had just finished reading an English newspaper aloud, while the second hung his head low, blood dropping from his smashed nose.

The man was tall, even when seated, and had a familiar voice to the newly elected Prime Minister of Croatia… but he couldn’t quite place it. He casually tossed the newspaper to the side, before lighting a cigarette. He offered one to the dark shadows standing by the door, watching the proceedings. They both refused, and the tall man, took a long puff on his, before standing to his full height, a colossal two meters.

“You know, I had my first son recently. Married the love of my life, all within the last year. Did you know that?”

Marko Balić’s head exploded with every word. He couldn’t stand this much longer, the pain was far too much. He was just elected to become the prime minister of Croatia. He hadn’t even had a meeting with his security team yet.


“I said, did you know that?”

He still couldn’t place the voice, before, after a split second, his fist came crashing into the side of his face, knocking over the chair, and sending the prime minister with it, slamming the side of his head into the concrete floor.

“You’re not responding Mr. Balić… oh, I’m sorry, should I be calling you Prime Minister. Hopefully that jogged your manners.”

The old prime minister, who had just celebrated his 63rd birthday, had only just stopped screaming. blood streamed down his face, before spitting out a tooth in a pool of blood. Tears mixed with the blood on the floor, the water resting on the top of the pool that soaked his clothes.

The tall figure had sat down again, before grabbing his cigarette and puffing it a few more times, silently.

“You know, sometimes, I don’t understand how corruption works. Here you are, the official candidate for the biggest political party in Croatia, and you’ve lied, cheated, and stolen your way to a fortune. Do you remember all of the people that you’ve killed? Do they haunt your dreams at night? Or are they just there, circling around your thoughts, constantly."

The tall man took a drink from the glass on the table. Sipping it quietly, and slowly puffed the cigarette in his other hand

“Or do you just not remember them."

Babić whimpered quietly from the ground.

“See, the former is bad, but, arguably, I’d prefer to remember everyone I’ve had killed for some reason or another. Then you could still admit to yourself that you had a shred of humanity. But I don’t think you do, do you?”

A tear streamed down Balić’s face.

“No… you don’t. You’ve traded your soul for power... or... well... money.”

It was a longer pause this time. Balić squirmed on the floor, trying to glimpse at his captor, who was still shrouded in darkness, save for the light of the cigarette that was slowly reaching it’s end.

“You disgust me. But you know that already.” And then, for the first time, he stood up right below the light swinging from the ceiling.

It only took an instant, but Balić saw him, and recognized the new mayor of Split. He was screaming long before Bendiš put out his cigarette on the politician’s face, and only stopped when Bendiš turned and knocked him out.
Neal's avatar Group Neal
9 yearsEdited
A dark side to Bendiš :O quite a dramatic torture scene that. Laughed aloud at your "reason" for not running with a particular party because of the drunk rages when you threw parties :P

Congratulations on 700 replies!

I can totally see Bendis turning into Dexter now...
Update 13/15
Maro flung a newspaper at Timmy’s desk, the headline, “Prime Minister in car accident - stable - meets with security team”, and stared at him while he read the headline.

“What? We needed to send a message to him. We knew that he would’t *do* anything about it.”

Maro continued staring.

“Look, the worst that could’ve possibly happened would be that he charge me with treason.”


“Alright, what do you want from me?!”

“Do you even hear yourself Timmy?! ‘The WORST that could have possibly happened would be that he charges you with TREASON?!’ Do you even know what treason is?! They kill people for treason, they execute their families. Sure, they can’t get you, because you’ve constructed this scenario where you are the law, but they can sure as hell chase down your parents. They can be in God knows what corner of the earth, hell, they can be in space, and they’ll find them, put them on trial, and have them killed in Zagreb.

“On your fucking doorstep.

“You know your sister, dancing, living her dream in London, directing the Royal Ballet? No. She’s even easier to find. All they need to do is get on a plane to England, and pick her up in Chelsea at her door. And then bring them to Zagreb and execute her, her kids, and her husband. Hell, they’ll even bring her dog and kill him too.

“On your FUCKING doorstep Timmy!”, Dadić flung his glass at the wall.

“I can’t even describe how lucky you are. How lucky you can think of yourself that the only reason you could’ve possibly gotten away with this is that that idiot thinks that he’ll lose the entire coast if he opposes you.

Bendiš began, “look Maro, do we have to do this before the ma-“


Bendiš sighed, defeated, before Maro said, “fine, just… just let’s go, we’ll talk on the way.”


Marko Balić squirmed in bed, his broken ribs were not helping his infamous temperament. He finally gave up and left his bedroom, wincing with every step.

The new prime minister wasn’t having it easy. He was found coughing up his own blood in the middle of the night, in the middle of the sketchiest part of Zagreb, with no memory of the evening. His nose was broken, he was out a rib, and one of his lungs had been nearly crushed.

All he remembered was a swinging lightbulb and the lightning bolt illuminating the park when he woke up.

Balić went to his new office, and spoke with several politicians. He vaguely understood that Bendiš had campaigned on the basis of radical reform, but noted that the parliamentarians from that area were more than happy to chat.

Those that were there, anyway.

It was a difficult day, really. And, by noon, he was pretty much full of it. Sometimes, negotiating the sale to the natural gas rights in the Adriatic just isn’t very easy nor very fun.

So, he went with some friends to a place he enjoyed for dinner. It was the restaurant of a friend, so he left a hefty tip, since it was on the government tab anyway.

He could, honestly, get used to not having to pay for drinks ever again. Now, he could just write it up.

So, he had a bottle of wine, just among friends, before he had another.

His wife told him that drinking made him violent, but it wasn’t like she was important. No one would leave the Prime Minister, regardless. Plus, his daughter was too important to her.

She was a beautiful woman, 20 years his junior, and a former model in France and Italy. But occasionally, she just shoved her nose where it didn’t belong.

She stopped doing that the second night he came back drunk.

His daughter spent a lot of time away. His wife made valid points to send her to a private boarding school in Switzerland, so she could learn more about the world, and receive an excellent education. It was easier that way… Balić reasoned that at least he had more time alone with his wife, whether she enjoyed it or not.

Tonight was no different. A note greeted him on the table that there was dinner in the fridge, and that she had gone to Switzerland to visit their daughter. He was full, and drunk, so, when he took the plate out of the fridge, it dropped onto the floor, the ceramic pan crashing on the tile.

Balić blinked bemusedly, before stumbling off to bed. His wife would have to clean it up later.
The drama of it all is unbearable. The new Prime Minister is having a bit of a tough time of it :P
I have just read through this whole story and I am now glued to this can't wait for the next update

Brilliant writing and storyline

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