Sack the manager
I consider myself a rational person who denies the existence of any kind of God/higher power/Flying Spaghetti Monster etc who might be controlling my insignificant little life. However, every so often little things occur that feel like nothing so much as the universe having a right old chuckle at my expense.
It's my own fault really. At the beginning of 2009, one of my resolutions was not to play Football Manager on my PC. If your reaction to this is a hearty scoff, all I can say is you've obviously never played the damn thing. As Danny Baker might put it (get well soon, Candyman) - I am an addict, FM is my crack and my lips are welded to the pipe. Despite this, I managed to make good on my promise right up till December 31st. Then that night, which I spent in my flat with nought but a bottle of wine, my 2009 iPod playlist and Jools Holland and his Hootenanny for company, I succumbed again, firing up the game and starting a new managerial career that lasted all the way until sometime this afternoon.
Of course I knew I couldn't keep playing FM forever (at least not the waaay-obsolete 2009 version) and this career, during which I'd won most of the trophies on offer with Newcastle and Barcelona, was now becoming boring and frustrating, but I was finding it hard to let go. Yesterday, after yet another incomprehensible loss I quit the game without saving, determined never to return. Then I thought maybe I should give it one more chance and revert to the formation and tactic which had given me so much success earlier on.
I loaded FM up again, knowing full well how pathetic a demonstration of my non-existent willpower this was, rejigged my team and started the next match - against Valencia, just above me in the table. I went 2-0 up very quickly. Hmm, this was going well. Come half-time I was 5 goals to the good. This was amazing! Oh Football Manager, why did I ever doubt you?
Valencia won 6-5. This despite me reverting to my ultra-defensive containing formation when 5-4 up in the last 10 minutes. Oh cruel universe, how you mock me. You could have had me be straightforwardly thrashed but no, you had to toy with me first. It's not the despair, as John Cleese says in 80s comedy Clockwise, I can take the despair. It's the hope I can't stand.
Fine, I get the message - no more FM for me. I'm actually grateful to the universe for giving me the push I needed to break free. Think of all the spare hours I'll have from now on! Now, where did I put that old copy of Civilization?
It's my own fault really. At the beginning of 2009, one of my resolutions was not to play Football Manager on my PC. If your reaction to this is a hearty scoff, all I can say is you've obviously never played the damn thing. As Danny Baker might put it (get well soon, Candyman) - I am an addict, FM is my crack and my lips are welded to the pipe. Despite this, I managed to make good on my promise right up till December 31st. Then that night, which I spent in my flat with nought but a bottle of wine, my 2009 iPod playlist and Jools Holland and his Hootenanny for company, I succumbed again, firing up the game and starting a new managerial career that lasted all the way until sometime this afternoon.
Of course I knew I couldn't keep playing FM forever (at least not the waaay-obsolete 2009 version) and this career, during which I'd won most of the trophies on offer with Newcastle and Barcelona, was now becoming boring and frustrating, but I was finding it hard to let go. Yesterday, after yet another incomprehensible loss I quit the game without saving, determined never to return. Then I thought maybe I should give it one more chance and revert to the formation and tactic which had given me so much success earlier on.
I loaded FM up again, knowing full well how pathetic a demonstration of my non-existent willpower this was, rejigged my team and started the next match - against Valencia, just above me in the table. I went 2-0 up very quickly. Hmm, this was going well. Come half-time I was 5 goals to the good. This was amazing! Oh Football Manager, why did I ever doubt you?
Valencia won 6-5. This despite me reverting to my ultra-defensive containing formation when 5-4 up in the last 10 minutes. Oh cruel universe, how you mock me. You could have had me be straightforwardly thrashed but no, you had to toy with me first. It's not the despair, as John Cleese says in 80s comedy Clockwise, I can take the despair. It's the hope I can't stand.
Fine, I get the message - no more FM for me. I'm actually grateful to the universe for giving me the push I needed to break free. Think of all the spare hours I'll have from now on! Now, where did I put that old copy of Civilization?
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