This story isn't based directly on a current game but an idea I had when playing Champ Man 01/02 back in the day. Here is the first two instalments :-
Donovan Kyle : This boy is golden, 100% dead cert for 20 goals a season and heís young.
Roy Masters : We havenít got the funds to offer him any sort of contract Donovan, never mind a long term contract. Plus I bet he is another Kyle isnít he?
Donovan Kyle : Well what can you say us Kyleís are good stock, isnít that right George?
George Kyle : Yeah, Uncle Donovan
Roy Masters was used to being railroaded by his long serving, wheeler dealer manager Donovan Kyle. Donovan was a fanís favourite as a player, a coach and now as their manager with his maverick, shoot from the hip attitude. Today was no exception as Roy Masters was putting up the obligatory fight which, although he knew he wasnít going to win, always made him feel that he had done everything in his power to stop the pre-programmed decision.
Roy Masters : Look itís the end of the season, why donít we look at the lad in the pre-season and make our decision then?
Donovan Kyle : Mr Chairman, you either sign this kid up or I walk and you donít want that. Do you Roy?
This was bog standard line to indicate this conversation was nearly over as both Roy and Donovan knew that Riddings Moss F.C. couldnít afford to lose Donovan Kyle, well certainly not at this point in time. You see, 40 percent of Riddings Mossís squad was made up of the Kyle clan and although the majority of them were average at best, Terry Kyle, the star midfield, was a bit of class. Uncle Donovan knew full well that if he went Terry would follow in a heartbeat.
Roy Masters : Welcome to Riddings Moss.
George Kyle : Cheers pal.
Donovan smirked and whisked George Kyle out of the Chairmanís office leaving Roy Masters to take stock of what had just happened. Roy slouched in his flea bitten chair and looked around his office, well if you can call it an office. Royís seat of power was a second hand portacabin located in the corner of the rear car park, just next to the compost heap of the adjoining local allotments.
Roy came to Riddings Moss 9 years ago as a self- confessed life- long supporter of the club. Back then he was energetic and full of ambition with high hopes of taking his beloved Riddings Moss into the Football Leagues but things didnít pan out like that. After two back to back promotions, Riddings Moss lost their legendary manager Joe Dartt suddenly after a road traffic accident.
The team were devastated and their form began to plummet. Donovan Kyle was coming to the end of his playing career and was offered the job as caretaker manager. That same year Riddings Moss made it into the 2nd round of the FA Cup under Donovan and he was offered the job on the back of this achievement despite the team being relegated the same season.
A couple of stable years followed but Donovan Kyle was building his own legacy at the clubís expense by demanding unnecessary and overpriced items such as heated dug out seats, a Managerís office decked out in top of the range gadgets and club expense accounts for his favourite players. Riddings Moss was touching distance away from League 2 but now they sat 17th in the Northern Premier League with another disappointing season behind them.
Roy looked over the clubs finances again and shook his head in disbelief. ďHow have I allowed this to happenĒ Roy asked himself. The club was crippled with debt and it was only Royís personal wealth that was keeping it alive but his pockets werenít as deep as they were 9 years ago. He had thrown everything into the club including two failed marriages, a big wad of cash and an ulcer the size of Mount Etna.
Roy gazed out of his office window and saw Donovan Kyle and kin getting into his club owned, brand spanking new car with no care in the world. He could see Donovan laughing and joking, probably not at Roy but he did not feel this way. He was a beaten man, a fighter with nothing left in the tank, a dejected man drained of all colour, emotion and hope. At least it was the end of the season and he can close up shop for a couple of weeks and get away from this hellhole.
Roy hated that he felt this way about the club he has loved for so long but at the moment the only thing that was keeping Roy going was the thought of his two week holiday in the USA. Roy collected his belongings and put them in his battered briefcase before locking his portacabin office and walking towards his second hand car with the dodgy door lock.
Security Guard Ted : You going home Mr Masters?
Roy Masters : Yeah Ted, you can lock the gates. I am the last one.
Security Guard Ted : Youíre always the last one Mr Masters! Have a good holiday and we will see you when you come back.
Roy Masters : If my holiday is good I might not come back. Night Ted.
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Loud American : Hey, you over there! You donít mind if I switch to the game do you?
Roy Masters : Sure thing, whose playing?
Loud American : Red Sox
Roy Masters : Oh baseball, thought you meant football
Loud Amercian : Nah, that doesnít start later in the year. Anyway Superbowl was terrible this year
Roy Masters : Sorry, I meant English football
Loud American : You mean soccer ha ha. Not much call for that down here my man although MLS seems to be taking off a bit more than previously. Baseball is where itís at
Roy Masters : Well footballs my passion, my life even my job
Roy rolled his eyes taking a hefty swig from his 4 pint mug. Every night for 1 week he had gone down to the beach bar in the centre of Clearwater Beach and drowned his sorrows. Every night for a week he had counted the days he has to go back to work. Every night for 1 week he had wished he didnít have to go back to Riddings Moss.
Loud American : Youíre a bit old to still be playing. Ha ha just messing with you. Answer me this, if football is your passion why are you so miserable when talking about it?
Roy Masters : Good point. You would think owning your own club would be a dream come true but let me tell youÖÖitís a nightmare.
Roy took another hit from his mammoth drink, which he wasnít really enjoying but it was the only thing easing the pain of the Mount Etna ulcer.
Loud American : You own your own club!! Wow thatís unreal. What I have never understood about team sports is why is everyone treated as individuals instead of a team?
Roy looked up from his drink intrigued by this question. Roy wasnít sure what to reply. What was this guy talking about, was it a good question or just a drunken wonderment?
Roy Masters : Well you reward your best players to get the best out of them.
Loud American : And when they do badly then you dock their pay?
Roy Masters : Well no it doesnít work that way. You have to show them a bit of loyalty and faith.
Loud American : So everyone gets paid different, get rewarded differently for doing the same job. If it was me everyone would have the same contract, same targets and the same rewards. Get them working as a team instead of individuals. Let them earn rankings within the club by being loyal through long service structure.
Roy Masters : Itís not that simple especially when throw managers, agents and fans into the mix.
Loud American : Yes it is!! Itís your club. Tell your manager to manage and not be involved in anything else. You hire, you fire itís that simple. Take baseball, it has a General Manager who deal with all the club infrastructure, financials, hiring and firing he is like the Project Manager of the club.
Roy and the loud American started talking about the good and bad points of a General Manager and with every word he started to plan a football revolution at Riddings Moss. It was so simple he couldnít believe he had not thought of this before. Yes people wouldnít like his new idea but Roy was past caring. He continued to talk with the loud American and with every sentence Roy formulated another chapter of the plan which he was unimaginatively calling Project Manager!
Nice introduction to an interesting storyline!
Have you created this team Riddings Moss in the DB?