The final whistle goes, and pure elation washes over me. I can see it, hear it, and I can feel it. We’ve won. It’s all been leading to this. All of the late nights, the tears, the despair, all of the shit I’ve been through in my managerial career… It’s all been worth it. I lead the team up the steps towards the trophy. The path is barely visible through our adoring fans: leaning in, cheering, patting backs, ruffling hair, taking selfies. This is for them. All tens of thousands of them, and the millions watching at home. We’re moments away from lifting the Trophy. We have done it…And then I wake up. Bollocks.
Becoming a Manager isn’t something that just happens. You can’t just wake up and walk into a Football Stadium asking if they have vacancies. Management is something that most in the profession have spent their lives learning. My name is Franjo. And I will be a Football Manager.
But who will I manage? I’m an Everton fan so the Everton job would be nice. I’m English, would I take the national job? Sure. It’s a poisoned challis but I’d fancy my chances. Then there’s your Barcelonas, your Bayern Munichs, Juventus, or even Paris Saint Germain… I could always just retire in the Bahamas after a week if it goes tits up.
Realistically though these jobs are a long way away. I’m a hopeful. A rookie. A nobody. I’ve been looking for a way into management for some time now. Looking for the right first step on the right ladder. And today, Saturday 30th July 2016, I think I’ve bloody found it.
FC Höllviken are perfect. They’re a small, pretty unknown, semi-professional club floundering in the Southern half of the third tier of Swedish Football. They might just be the kind of club that would be desperate enough to take a chance on an unknown, untried manager. I send in my extremely bare CV.
The next morning I have 1 new email. It’s Alexander Lundgren, Höllviken’s chairman, and he wants me to attend an interview later today! They’re more desperate than I thought.
We have a good chat, despite the language barrier. He’s concerned, rightfully so, about my lack of experience. I tell him that everyone starts somewhere and that seems to put him at ease. I tell Alexander that I’m a firm believer in bringing through youth players, so a lack of funds doesn’t rattle me. I tell him that I’m the man who can save his club from being relegated from the third tier. I think it goes pretty well.
I don’t know how many of you will have experienced this in your lives, but there’s no situation that makes you refresh your emails quite as often as being unemployed. “Maybe they’ve replied now? No of course not, it’s only been 5 seconds… but how about now?”
4 days pass and I’ve heard nothing from Alexander. Given that I applied for the job at midnight and had an interview 11 hours later this is making me increasingly nervous. Clubs are hiring new managers all over the place and I only applied for 1 position. If I don’t get it I may be out of work for a few months yet.
A week since my interview and still no word. 8 days. 9. 10. 11 days after my interview I refresh my emails for the infinitieth time and there it is.
From: Alexander Lundgren, Chairman of FC Höllviken.
Subject: “Save us Franjo”
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