Football Manager Stole My Life Read online

  I literally became obsessed with him and this filtered over to my life outside FM when I stumbled across his Bebo social networking page. I left a 17-year-old Plymouth youth player a long-winded comment, informing him of his Tiverton exploits, giving him tips on his best position and declaring my love for him, talking as if I was a weird combination of his gaffer/stalker, something I now feel so stupid for. Although I have held back from trying to contact him since, I still look out for his name on Gilette Soccer Saturday every week.

  MR BOWIE’S

  CHAMP MAN

  MASTERCLASS

  CHRIS COUPLAND

  The year of the 00/01 game I felt like everybody was playing it, even the teachers would be telling everybody who the next wonderkid was.

  There was one class where Mr Bowie would spend the first 25 minutes talking about how his Carlisle game was coming along. He was so pleased at finishing 17th in the Premiership with his newly-promoted side. Somebody shouted about how he should sign Tonton Zola Moukoko and he replied with a smile, “That was my first signing, he’s my captain”. It was easily my favourite class of the week. Luckily there were only two girls in it, I think they may have been the only reason we didn’t talk Champ Man the entire time.

  When I got my first part-time job, I would run through my squad in my head while working. Where did I need to improve? Who was surplus to requirements? I used to do pretend interviews about recent performances, talking about specific players.

  I would make songs up for players I found, like calling Fernando Genro ‘The General’. Celtic won the European Cup at Wembley and I made The Pogues ‘London Girl’ my fans’ theme song for that season.

  Writing this makes me think I went too far.

  HAPPY

  BIRTHDAY,

  DELE ADEBOLA

  OWEN SCOTT

  I remember at school (I’m 33 now) I was nicknamed Crowded House because their song Four Seasons in One Day described my Championship Manager experience.

  My story is all around my hero – Dele Adebola. I started a game of Champ Man as Crewe and my obsession with Dele began. He was 19, but became the lynchpin of the side which took Europe and England by storm. Thirty-five Premier League titles in a row and numerous European titles and Dele was there for about 15 of them. I had numerous bids for him, but just couldn’t sell and I let him decide when it was time to retire. At my school prom I was honoured to receive the Dele Adebola Award for Services to Football Statistics – basically a can of juice with some paper around it. My mates thought it would be a good joke and seemed gobsmacked when I was so proud to receive it.

  I sent Dele a couple of birthday cards but never got any reply and have followed his career very closely. Only last season through a man I knew who knew Billy Davies, I managed to get my hands on a couple of signed photos of Dele and a signed Forest top from his time there. I remember being excited reading the 90 Minutes magazine one week when Dele was linked with a £1m move to Wimbledon, but it never came off. Who would think a schoolboy from a mining village in Scotland would grow up to idolise a Crewe teenager?

  CAR CRASH TV

  OLEG

  I was looking forward to November 5, 2010. It was Friday, I still clearly remember, and I had pre-ordered my digital copy of Football Manager 2011.

  I had to work and the routine seemed very long for me. Close to the end of the day, my friends asked me out for a beer. I refused, because I knew that FM awaited me at home. And it was a vital decision.

  I got home and played for a few hours, then I had a phone call, and was informed that there had been a car accident – both of my friends were hospitalised with injuries, and the car was smashed. I can’t even describe how shocked I was. Who knows, maybe this game saved my life?

  VAUXHALL

  AND I

  LEE RAE

  I started university in 2006, the year of my Vauxhall Motors save. After three years battling hard in the Conference North on a shoestring budget, I managed to get promoted to the Conference. Two more seasons followed before I was promoted to League 2 following a number of shrewd signings (the best being an unknown striker by the name of Vijay Sidhu, from Coventry under-18s on a free).

  Whilst in League 2, I had the opportunity to sign Rory Fallon. The New Zealand striker had had a reasonable career in the higher leagues with Plymouth and my local team, Barnsley. At 6ft 2ins I thought he would be ideal as a target man and sure enough the goals flowed.

  One night I was out in Barnsley and noticed Rory across the bar. Having had a few beers, I thought it only right that I should inform the front man of his scoring exploits for me. He was delighted to hear that he was a hit on FM, however was slightly taken aback when I told him that he was banging them in for lowly Vauxhall Motors.

  He was clearly hoping I was manager of Real Madrid!

  MAN AND BOY

  HENDERSON

  Twenty years ago, give or take, me and my mate were playing Championship Manager round his house.

  In those days, preparing the game between seasons took roughly four million years. You had to click the mouse a couple of times every million years or so. We did this and then walked up to the Chinese to grab a chicken chow mein. When we got back, my mate’s mum said that I had to call my cousin for some reason. To cut a long story short, my dad had had a heart attack and died on a squash court. They don’t tell you this over the phone, you know. You have to go to the hospital and get told face-to-face.

  I never did get to eat that chicken chow mein – went cold in the car.

  Anyway, fast forward 20 years and I’m in front of a laptop playing the same game. They have a 3D match-engine now. Imagine that.

  When I play CM I play it hard. I take it to work, to play in my lunch break. I play it in the morning before work, I play it while the kids are going to sleep, I play it after the kids have gone to sleep.

  The point I’m trying to make is this. What a gigantic waste of time. I mean, I’ve always known it’s been a giant waste of time. It doesn’t even particularly bother me that it’s a waste of time. When it comes down to it, just about everything that could be considered a hobby is a waste of time. People have hobbies because they are fun, not because they are achieving a great deal.

  Work is also a big waste of time.

  Pretty much everything is a waste of time, when you get right down to it. Maybe some things are more worthwhile wastes than others. Not sure about that though.

  When I was younger, I had great expectations of myself. I didn’t know what I was going to do with life, but I was pretty sure I’d be fantastic at it. Great expectations. Low workrate. Killer combination.

  If there was one thing I wouldn’t have banked on doing 20 years after my old man chased his last lost cause, it would be playing Championship Manager. And yet here I am. And I’ll do it again, because, ultimately, I haven’t grown up one little bit from that kid with the cold chow mein. I do a half-decent impression of being a good dad. That’s about the best that could be said.

  Deep down I still think that taking Dover to the Championship from the Blue Square South is a worthy achievement. In an alternative life, I could get a job at Dover, gain multiple promotions, and eventually move to Roma, where I would win Serie A.

  And I only went out of the Champions League because of a bug whereby if you press the space bar twice it skips the team setup screen if you have a valid lineup. I could have been the champion of Europe, you know.

  Anyway. I have more time now I have kicked my addiction for another year or two. Enough time to write crap posts like this. And to think of some other ridiculous way of wasting my time.

  A life of forgotten Championship Manager saves. It’s not a ringing endorsement, people.

  “The devil was always Robbie Keane,” said Stephen, of the former CM3 world-beater. Shortly afterwards, Cosmic Trigger posted: “I’ve seen R***** K**** mentioned twice now without the appropriate censoring. Remember: no tipping.”

  FAVOURITE

  PERSONNEL
/>   STUART WARREN

  Back in the CM days at school, myself and my group of friends were your typical addicts – obsessing over wonderkids, spending lessons drawing up our best XI and, when the editor came into play, adding ourselves into the game.

  Ant and Ben were hooked as much as I was. It was a constant thing in our lives, as it was for countless others.

  Once we finished school we all went our separate ways – Ben travelling round the world, Ant and I into very different university courses. We all kept up with CM/FM, but aside from a quick dabble in a network game, didn’t see so much of each other, so the CM/FM chats and comparisons faded off.

  Fast forward a couple of years – I’m looking for a summer job, Ant’s dropped out of uni and Ben’s been made redundant. We all go for the ultimate summer temp job – testing FM – and get it. Back together again, doing the same old thing we were doing back in school!

  Fast forward a couple of years again and we’re now all fully-fledged, permanent members of the SI team, living together in London. And this season we started a Sunday League football team called FC To Madeira, in honour of everyone’s favourite fake player.

  FOOTBALL

  CRAZY?

  Why it’s perfectly healthy to conduct

  press conferences in the shower

  If you have played Champ Man or FM, you have probably had a moment – maybe more than one – when you have questioned your own sanity. God knows Iain Macintosh has, so we asked him to take one for the team on the psychologist’s coach. Wait...

  Sometimes, I worry about the effect that Football Manager has had on my life. I’ve had girlfriends I haven’t loved as much as my Uefa Cup–winning Southend United side (CM97/98), friends that I haven’t seen as much as I saw my Nottingham Forest reserves (CM01/02). Why is it that I’ve never stayed up until 3am to write a book, but I did it on numerous occasions to guide Welling out of the Conference South (FM07)?

  I decided that it was time to go and see a man who could give me some answers. Dr Simon Moore, Principal Lecturer in Psychology at London Metropolitan University and a renowned expert in the effects of gaming on the human condition. If anyone can tell me whether or not I’ve got a serious, serious problem, it’s him.

  / Iain Macintosh before and after 20 years of addiction – proof that FM is good for your health?

  Iain Macintosh – Hello, Doctor. Thank you for seeing me at such short notice.

  Simon Moore – No problem at all, Iain.

  IM – You see… Actually, should I be laying down for this?

  SM – If it makes you feel better.

  IM – You know, I really think it will. (lies down) Oh yes, that’s lovely.

  SM – Now, what seems to be the problem?

  IM – Well, Doctor, it’s like this. I’ve been playing the Football Manager games for 20 years. Since the very first one, the one with the picture of an angry man on the box, came out I’ve spent hours and hours and hours of my life, tinkering with make-believe football teams, playing with tactics, scouting and recruiting new players. When I think about what I could have achieved in my life, the languages I could have learned, the places I could have seen, it really does break my heart. At some point, I’m going to be on my death bed, surrounded by family members, gently ebbing away into the next plane of existence and all I’m going to be able to think about is the fact that I must have spent a cumulative total of six unbroken months playing a computer game. But you know the worst thing?

  SM – Go on…

  IM – I’m actually a football journalist. I have a press pass and everything. Within reason, and dependent on travel budgets, I can watch any football match in the country and get paid to do so. I’m basically spending all of my free time doing something which is pretty much an extension of my day job. Am I weird?

  SM – Eeeerm…

  IM – Oh dear, that’s not a good start.

  SM – You’re not playing the same one are you? The same one with a picture of an angry man on the box?

  IM – Oh God, no. No, I’ve bought every new one when it’s been released. I’m not locked in 1992.

  SM – But you like the concept, you like the micro-management?

  IM – I do, I really do. I love taking over a team and assessing the squad. I like to assemble a backroom staff, prepare a coaching routine, get the youngsters mentored by senior pros, practise set-pieces, deploy scouts, everything. And then I never just play with the first team. I’ll always control the reserves and the youth teams, just to make sure that there’s progression in the club. And that’s the strangest thing. I’m not a precise man in any other walk of life. My tax records are all over the place, my diary is written on my arm in biro, I’m forever losing notepads. But when I get on Football Manager, suddenly I become the most meticulous man in the world. Everything is planned and prepped, the future is mapped out.

  SM – When you play the game, how do you feel?

  IM – Genuinely?

  SM – Genuinely.

  IM – I feel like a God.

  SM – Really?

  IM – I feel like a God, sat astride a mountain, staring down at the mortals as they scurry like ants, desperate to do my bidding, fearful of my wrath. Is that weird? That is weird, isn’t it?

  SM – Eeeerm…

  IM – I don’t like the way you draw out your ‘erms’

  SM – Sorry. It’s not weird that you don’t do these things in real life. Control freaks don’t control every part of their lives. If you think about work, for example, some people are not control freaks at work because they are unable to manipulate people in that sense. But they might be in their own home, with cleanliness, or where the remote control is kept. But if you change the environment, you can change the behaviour. You must feel you have more control in this Football Manager environment.

  IM – But I’m a football journalist and I have been for six years. You’d think I’d have no need to immerse myself in this pretend world of football because I’m in the real one.

  SM – Yes, but only to a certain extent. You’re not in it, you’re alongside it. You’re on the outside looking in. Your influence is limited.

  IM – Ah, you’ve seen my contacts book. Well, I say book. It’s more of a pamphlet.

  SM – You don’t really control the day to day mechanics of real football, or the way the real teams perform. But you do in the game.

  IM – Do you think that’s why my need to play has intensified in recent years?

  SM – Maybe… Maybe that’s a function of what you do. Perhaps influence is what you feel you l ack and this game gives it to you in great quantity.

  IM – OK. What is it about always wanting one more game, always wanting one more match? Why am I sometimes sat downstairs on my sofa at 1am, my living room illuminated only by the glow of my laptop as I push deep into the night in pursuit of a pretend trophy?

  SM – Well, that’s the same with lots of gamers and indeed lots of addictions. Think about horse racing fans always wanting one more race, gamblers unable to walk away from a fruit machine.

  IM – God, is it that bad? Is it that closely linked with other addictions?

  SM – Yep. Some people are addicted to basic principles or linear relationships. You press ‘a’ and ‘b’ happens. You have a drink and you feel good. They like that simplicity. Then there are lot of people who like the complexities of other relationships. With this sort of game there are so many possibilities, so many permutations. You could literally play Football Manager a hundred times and have a different result every time. You are also obviously addicted to this kind of ‘deity’ analogy that you eluded to earlier. Your addiction is built around a ‘what happens if I do this to them?’ principle.

  IM – So not only do I think I’m a God, but you think I’m also a vengeful, wrathful God?

  SM – Well, not entirely. You want your team to perform well. That’s your aim.

  IM – But if I was the kind of person who dropped players repeatedly,
fined them, transfer–listed them, then I’d be a vengeful God?

  SM – Exactly. Your personality is going to come out somehow in the game itself. Are you impulsive in the transfer market?

  IM – No. I’m quite impulsive in real–life markets, especially if cheese is involved, but not on Football Manager. I always make sure that my signings are the result of thorough scouting and extensive deliberation.

  SM – You see, you’re very concerned about how you do in the game, that’s your motivation. You can’t talk about personality without talking about motivation. You want to perform well, but it’s also integral to the fact that you enjoy it so much. You don’t want to spoil the enjoyment by failing to put in the investment. If you’re not winning, you’re not having fun.

  IM – Is it not a little concerning that in real life I’m reckless and impulsive, but in Football Manager I’ll micromanage and plan?

  SM – Well, it just goes to show that you’re not stable in your personality, doesn’t it?

  IM – Really?

  SM – Yes. Don’t worry, that sounds a lot worse than it is. It’s a good thing.