Disclaimer:
The following story is completely fictional, and should not be taken seriously. Any similarities with factual events or characters are purely coincidental.
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"Jonas picks up the ball outside the box.. He breaks away from his marker, cuts inside, jinks past the last defender.. Oh, that's a clever turn! On his right foot now.. Jonas shoots.. and WHAT A GOAL!! That's a lovely finish, and Singapore takes a shock lead at Wembley!"
I pumped my fists in the air as I listened to the 90,000 screaming locals go silent, and then rise to a crescendo again as they cheered for the magical goal. As I ran over to my teammates with my hand aloft to celebrate, my eyelids flew open.
It was the dream again. I was thinking about the most glorious moment of my short lived footballing career again. Letting out a sigh as I pulled up the bed-sheets which were now strewn across the bed, I shook away the fading echos of the screaming crowd.
"You're never gonna' to relive the dream again," I told myself. "You're just a useless dipshit who doesn't even have a fucking job!"
I took a swig of the Jack Daniels on the bedside, closed my eyes, and drifted back to sleep.
- - -
Who am I? First off, abit of background. My name is Jonas T. Johnson, (everyone calls me Joe for short) and I am, or rather- was, a footballer. I was born in Singapore, and led a rather normal and boring life- that is, until the day an old man stopped me in the middle of a soccer match. He invited himself onto the pitch while we were still playing, gestured wildly to me, and mentioned something about tryouts which I honestly couldn't give two shits about.
"For fuck's sake, get the hell away, I'm in the middle of the match, dammit!"
I pushed the dumpy old man away and smashed the ball forward, signaling for the rest of the players to continue. Nobody interrupts a soccer match like that.
"You'll come for the tryouts, tomorrow, yes?" He cried out, almost pleading.
"Yeah, whatever. Now get off the pitch, fool!" I yelled.
"Be at Jalan Besah Stadium at 9am, sharp!"
Even after trudging off the pitch, the man stood at the sidelines, staring intently at me. Visibly annoyed, I extended my arm, and flicked a rude gesture to him. The man left after that, frowning deeply. It was then when everybody suddenly got excited.
"Joe! Do you know who the fuck that is? That's bloody Raddy Avramovic, for christ's sake !"
"Raddy what.? Who the hell is that?"
"The Singapore national team coach, dude, the national team coach!"
I shrugged, and then turned to chase after the ball, which was bouncing off the pitch. Not the best time to get distracted, not when we are 1-0 down..
- - -
Eventually, I did go down for the tryouts at Jalan Besah Stadium. Even though I was two hours late(who the hell holds tryouts at 9am?), I went on the pitch, did my thing, and at the end of the day, everybody was convinced that I should be in the team. Unsurprisingly, however, while there were no questions about the quality of my football I can produce, many eyebrows were raised with the issue of discipline and lack of respect. "Fuck you," I thought to myself. "You shitty coaches are the reason why Singapore's football sucks so much!"
Two weeks later, I was called up to the national team for a friendly against Indonesia. After I easily put the ball behind the opposing goalkeeper six times after coming off the bench for Russel Dean on the 50th minute, the rest, as they say, was history. I became an overnight celebrity, and anchored myself to become a first team regular straightaway. One year later, with me banging in goals for fun at the front, and beating favorites such as Japan and Australia, Singapore qualified for the World Cup for the first time ever in history! Eventually, we never got pass the group stage though(in fact, we lost all of our games quite spectacularly), but it was still a wonderful achievement. Furthermore, my magical opener against England at Wembley, and the subsequent performances apparently caught the eye of many managers in the elite clubs of Europe.
Sure enough, a month after that, on my 21st birthday, my parents received a bids from a flurry of various top clubs. Eventually, it was arranged that I'll sign for Manchester City for a fee in the region of 1.3 million pounds. Hell, I'm going to be the first ever Singaporean to play in the English Premier League! I've created history! Am I excited? Fuck, yes!
Unfortunately, the move to the England never materialized.
- - -
At that point of time, I was dating my classmate, Cassandra. We have been together for nearly a year and a half, and while it wasn't a very long time together, damn, I felt that I have found the love of my life! It was absolutely perfect. Our personality were so different, but heck,we got on together so bloody well. When I wasn't out there on the pitch knocking the ball around, I would be trying to spend every single bit of my time together with her.
Right after receiving the fax from Manchester City, I called Cassandra. I could hardly contain my excitement as I punched the speed-dial to her number.
"Come over to my house! I've got awesome news to share with you!"
"At this hour? You know my mom would never let me out!"
"That has never stopped you, has it? Just come! It'll be worth it!"
"What is it?"
"You'll know when you see it!"
I was ecstatic. Cassandra will be here in half an hour, and she'll be the first one that I'm gonna' share the news with. I quickly tidied up my cluttered room, and pulled out a bottle of Domaine Vincent Careme from the wine chiller. Cassandra absolutely adores her sparkling champagne, while I'll be more then happy to swap it for a couple of shots of Jack Daniel's, thank you very much! But no matter, on this happy occasion, we'll have whatever the hell she likes. After making sure that everything is in order, I slumped on the sofa, and waited for my love to arrive!!
- - -
Cassandra never got to taste the champagne that I've been saving for her. Two hours after I've made the call to her, the hospital called me to inform me that Cassandra was involved in a car accident. Where the fuck is she now?! I remember screaming into the phone. Changi General Hospital, the nurse said. Come over quick. Time's running out for her.
She was gone before I reached the hospital.
The doctors tried everything they can, but she lost so much blood that it was all for naught. Apparently, some driver knocked her down, and fled the scene, leaving her lying on the road before an elderly couple taking their nightly stroll found her bleeding to her death fifteen minutes later.
How fucking cruel.
I didn't even get to say goodbye for the last time.
The happiest day of my life meant nothing anymore, when the only person I really treasured slips away like that, silently.
Screaming and shouting from the anguish of losing Cassandra, I flung myself down the window of the hospital.
I'm going to join you, Cassandra. Wait for me.
I love you.
Pain. Pain as I hit the side of the sidewalk, and then darkness engulfed me.
- - -
I woke up nearly seven weeks later, at the ICU of the same hospital.
The doctors told me that I was a bloody miracle because I survived the six-story fall. Apparently, I landed feet first onto a parked van which cushioned the impact tremendously. It also helps that I've tried to commit suicide at the hospital, so emergency action could be taken immediately. Here comes the catch, though- both my legs were shattered, along with left arm, and the lower section of my spine. The nurse told me that I'll never be able to walk again, let alone play soccer. Sure enough, a letter on the table from Manchester City informed me that "it is our greatest regret to hear about my accident, but because of the medical implications, the contract and the proposed move has been canceled." Without even taking a second glance, I tore up the letter and flung it away.
Eventually, after sixteen operations and nearly ten months later, I managed to take my first steps after the fall. As I hobbled out of the hospital another three weeks later, I was a completely changed person. The wunderkind of soccer that was Jonas T. Johnson was no more.
- - -
All of that happened about 15 years ago. Since then, Jonas T. Johnson had been a good-for-nothing drunkard that lived on his parents until they passed away of old age. After his parent's death, he inherited a small fortune which he eventually gambled away, and now, our protagonist has been spending his time alone at his small rental apartment, with his only company being bottle after bottles of Jack Daniel's.
- - -
Remember Russel Dean? He was part of the Singaporean team that made it into the World Cup group stages with Jonas fifteen years ago. Since then, he has given up on his footballing career and started his own enterprise, being unlucky from the roll of the injury dice that athletes dread.
Today, however, as he knocked on the door of a ramshackle rental apartment, he knows that he has a proposal that will change the life of Jonas T. Johnson, yet again.
- - -
"You sure you're not shitting me, Russel?"
"Fuck you, Joe. Which part of me looks like I'm not being deadly serious about this shit?"
"But why me?"
"Joe, you little cunt, I'm starting a football club and you're the best fucking footballer I've known in my life. With your damn talent, and my funding, we're gonna' cause amazing shit to happen. We're gonna fucking change the world!"
Jonas sat in silence as Russel laid out his glorious plan to him for the next half an hour. The idea was simple. Thurrock F.C. of the Blue Square South League had seen it's finances spiral out of control for the past three years, and after finally going into administration and being forced to release all it's players, it opened it's gates for the last time three weeks ago. The Football Association was desperate to have another club in it's place since the new season starts in less then two months, and allowed any football club in England which is able to offer the highest price to compete in the the league. Russel, whose dream was to own a football club, offered an unmatched bid of seven million pounds, which subsequently won the auction.
The only problem, though, was that Russel did not in fact own any club, but he moved fast, and with the School of Humanities and Social Science from Ngee Ann Polytechnic, he formed a new club, BZSE FC. One of the conditions that came along with the co-operation of HMS, however, was that for the first year of operation of the club, the squad members must consist of only students or lecturers of the school. Russel had no qualms with that- the school is going to be the other main shareholders of BZSE FC, and he himself has already taken a look at the players that the school is going to offer, which he finds to be more then good enough to get survive in the first season. Stadium wise, he used the rest of his fortune to buy a plot of land in Manchester, and has already commissioned a stadium to be built there. Some of the Singapore league coaches have also agreed to join him on his quest, and all that's lacking is a manager to spearhead the club..
"So, Joe, you with me in this or what?"
"Russel, you shithead, just tell me where to sign.."
- - -
And thus, our Football Manager 2012 story begins!
Hope you guys are as excited as I am!
