"Immorality: the morality of those who are having a better time”
- Henry Louis Mencken
I've often dismissed Wenger's insistence that Chelsea's riches are immoral. It seemed weak. They always seemed the words of a sore loser.
I didn't see it from his side until recently.
There's this girl, you see. A sweet, lovely, gorgeous girl. I would dearly love to ask her out, but she's nine years younger that me. I cannot. She is too young. It's driving me mad because I cannot make a move, but I cannot. My morals tell me that I cannot.
My morals are willful, inconsistent things. They puff up with self-righteous pride in some circumstances, and fold discretely back into the knapsack in others. They are often inconsiderate to my personal wishes. I often try to ignore them. But once they catch a gust of wind, my sails are full and my course becomes unalterable. I've been trying to think of ways to get around my morals. I cannot emphasize how much I'd love to ask this girl out. But my morals will not allow me.
This girl, however, has other admirers. She's attracting guys who are older, and sleazier and who have no qualms about picking up young girls. It give me indigestion just thinking of the anecdotes she's told. I picture them surrounding her like jackals around a separated baby gazelle. A part of me realises that she likes the attention of those jerks. And a part of me realises that she's attracted to them specifically because they are older and sleazier and push all those rebellious buttons of hers.
When I start thinking this way, I get heartburn.
And out of nowhere, I recollect all those interviews with Wenger repeating those three little words, "it is immoral". It is the phrase of the guy who is frustrated beyond belief as he watches others waltz over and takes the things he covets most. He wants it so badly that he's ready to fight Martin Jol on derby day. But in spite of his intelligence and his talents, he cannot fight back. He's been rendered impotent and feeble. He's been betrayed by his own morals.
To compete against the immorality of Chelsea's "financial doping", Man Utd have bought the Premiership (presumably) and mortgaged their future. Arsenal have earned 3rd place and stayed solvent. One club succumbed to their lusts. One club remained true to their morals.
I'm sure Wenger, on those sleepless nights, thinks of all the players he could've signed if he'd accessed that huge transfer facility. I'm sure he's sworn over and over than next time he's competing with a big club for a talented starlet, he'll sign him "no matter what the cost". But when the time comes to call the agent, he chokes on his words. Why?
Your morals are YOUR morals because you cannot side against them. You cannot bend them, you cannot twist them, you cannot do anything but obey. For better or worse, they are part of you. They are the better part of you. I have to believe that. It's the only thing I can cling to, because when it costs you the things you want most in your life, it's so fucking hard to take. There's no consolation prize for 3rd place. There's no consolation girl for the guy who refrains. This is real life and the consequences of those morals are mind-numbingly painful.
In football, in life, sometimes the only thing that counts is scoring.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Globalised Football
This will be a quick one. I don't have the time for anything else.
I've been reading "The World is Flat" by Thomas Friedman. Interesting read - I've never come across such a persuasive argument on the "globalise at all costs" issue. The guy makes high-speed broadband internet the modern equivalent of Mother Teresa.
Anyway, one thing I've learnt is that in a flat world, you've got to innovate, educate and communicate in order to succeed. Thanks to the internet, everyone has the same information and has access to the same funds. To survive in this flat world, you've got to be smarter, quicker and more ruthless than your competitors.
What does this mean to Arsenal?
Well, in the past, we've been the dog's bollocks when it comes to innovation. In England, Wenger started the scientific diet and training regime, the mass recruitment of cheap young foreign players, the paying of wages to offshore accounts (genius while it lasted), the stealing uncontracted youth players from big clubs, and "I didn't see it" for every controversial decision.
It kept us up the top on lower resources, but now the other clubs have caught up. Chelsea have more money and bulldoze their way to the best players. Man Utd have plucked the shit out of Portugal, and Liverpool are doing the same with Latin America. Milan bought Pato for 17 million. Barcelona have promoted awesome youth like Gio and Bojan, to avoid another Cesc.
We need to innovate again to gain another advantage.
Any ideas?
I've been reading "The World is Flat" by Thomas Friedman. Interesting read - I've never come across such a persuasive argument on the "globalise at all costs" issue. The guy makes high-speed broadband internet the modern equivalent of Mother Teresa.
Anyway, one thing I've learnt is that in a flat world, you've got to innovate, educate and communicate in order to succeed. Thanks to the internet, everyone has the same information and has access to the same funds. To survive in this flat world, you've got to be smarter, quicker and more ruthless than your competitors.
What does this mean to Arsenal?
Well, in the past, we've been the dog's bollocks when it comes to innovation. In England, Wenger started the scientific diet and training regime, the mass recruitment of cheap young foreign players, the paying of wages to offshore accounts (genius while it lasted), the stealing uncontracted youth players from big clubs, and "I didn't see it" for every controversial decision.
It kept us up the top on lower resources, but now the other clubs have caught up. Chelsea have more money and bulldoze their way to the best players. Man Utd have plucked the shit out of Portugal, and Liverpool are doing the same with Latin America. Milan bought Pato for 17 million. Barcelona have promoted awesome youth like Gio and Bojan, to avoid another Cesc.
We need to innovate again to gain another advantage.
Any ideas?
Monday, May 5, 2008
Apologies To Kurt Vonnegut
"People aren't supposed to look back. I'm certainly not going to do it anymore. I've finished my war book now. The next one I write is going to be fun. This one is a failure, and had to be, since it was written by a pillar of salt".
- Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse 5
Listen: Connolly's agent is unstuck in time.
When he walks, he walks in the footsteps of his past. He repeats the mistakes of his past. It's as if he fell off his bike as a kid, and refused to get back on. And he's been sitting on the side of the road for all these years, waiting for someone to pick him up, dust him off, and give him a ride back home. But of course, the only way out of that park is to get back on that bike.
So it goes.
When he contemplates all the time he's wasted, Connolly's agent is so fucking annoyed that there's no way he can express his disgust. This is real life, so there are no friendly aliens from Tralfamadore to abduct him, nor any convenient metaphor to explain how some things are so awful that the only way to comprehend it is obliquely, through refracted glass and in the blackest, darkest humour.
Or maybe there is, only Kurt Vonnegut told it better than I ever could.
So it goes.
When Wenger sold Vieira, he told us to trust him. I did, although my body shook with fer at the thought of the endless seasons without him. As the season progressed, we realised something was drastically wrong. And as we started to shed Premiership winners like a tree sheds leaves in autumn, we realised that the long, hard winter was approaching. And still, we trusted him, because Wenger Knows, and because we know that after every winter comes spring.
So it goes.
Three years later, and our tree had been denuded. Of the Invincibles, only Toure and remains. Spring follows winter, though, and our season started brightly. Vieira and co. have been scattered to the four winds, and what's left is the new Arsenal. The ground has begun to thaw. Fresh buds and new leaves have emerged. There's the vibrant promise of youth, of new growth. And this season, for the first time in three years, we mounted a title challenge.
But with Flamini as good as gone, Hleb on his way and a tight transfer kitty to play with, we wonder if we've the resources to regenerate. We don't have much time. Summer will come soon, and if we're not ready, it'll be autumn before we've prepared. Our players are reaching their prime years and we're still stuck in the rebuilding stage. If we don't get a perfect replacement for Flamini, it'll be another six months to adjust, and another season wasted. And by that stage, another of our players will have become disillusioned, and agitate for a transfer.
So it goes.
There's no point to this post. It's just a circular train of thought about a team always takes retreats two steps for each advancing step. It's no bombing of Dresden, and I'm really uncomfortable for making this comparison, but I can't come up with a better way of describing my emotions right now, other than through that book. And in its own way, it is similarly tragic, pointless and difficult to come to grips with.
In the end, what else can you say but:
Poo-tee-weet?
- Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse 5
Listen: Connolly's agent is unstuck in time.
When he walks, he walks in the footsteps of his past. He repeats the mistakes of his past. It's as if he fell off his bike as a kid, and refused to get back on. And he's been sitting on the side of the road for all these years, waiting for someone to pick him up, dust him off, and give him a ride back home. But of course, the only way out of that park is to get back on that bike.
So it goes.
When he contemplates all the time he's wasted, Connolly's agent is so fucking annoyed that there's no way he can express his disgust. This is real life, so there are no friendly aliens from Tralfamadore to abduct him, nor any convenient metaphor to explain how some things are so awful that the only way to comprehend it is obliquely, through refracted glass and in the blackest, darkest humour.
Or maybe there is, only Kurt Vonnegut told it better than I ever could.
So it goes.
When Wenger sold Vieira, he told us to trust him. I did, although my body shook with fer at the thought of the endless seasons without him. As the season progressed, we realised something was drastically wrong. And as we started to shed Premiership winners like a tree sheds leaves in autumn, we realised that the long, hard winter was approaching. And still, we trusted him, because Wenger Knows, and because we know that after every winter comes spring.
So it goes.
Three years later, and our tree had been denuded. Of the Invincibles, only Toure and remains. Spring follows winter, though, and our season started brightly. Vieira and co. have been scattered to the four winds, and what's left is the new Arsenal. The ground has begun to thaw. Fresh buds and new leaves have emerged. There's the vibrant promise of youth, of new growth. And this season, for the first time in three years, we mounted a title challenge.
But with Flamini as good as gone, Hleb on his way and a tight transfer kitty to play with, we wonder if we've the resources to regenerate. We don't have much time. Summer will come soon, and if we're not ready, it'll be autumn before we've prepared. Our players are reaching their prime years and we're still stuck in the rebuilding stage. If we don't get a perfect replacement for Flamini, it'll be another six months to adjust, and another season wasted. And by that stage, another of our players will have become disillusioned, and agitate for a transfer.
So it goes.
There's no point to this post. It's just a circular train of thought about a team always takes retreats two steps for each advancing step. It's no bombing of Dresden, and I'm really uncomfortable for making this comparison, but I can't come up with a better way of describing my emotions right now, other than through that book. And in its own way, it is similarly tragic, pointless and difficult to come to grips with.
In the end, what else can you say but:
Poo-tee-weet?
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Edelman's gone
"Please follow this story elsewhere. It's big news and good news. It's the first of many changes we will soon be seeing."
- Myles Palmer, ANR, 01/05/08
Myles' right - the sacking of Keith Edelman is BIG news. I'm struggling to figure out what it means for the club. I don't live in the country, so it's a bit of a mystery. I'm going to muddle through this post, so please bear with me.
This is the information I'm getting:
1. Keith Edelman was a good managing director when the club needed finance for the stadium. He ran the club like a business. No one else in football could've managed it.
2. Keith Edelman was sacked because he's no longer useful. Now that the stadium finance is stitched up, we needed a more "football-minded" MD. We need someone with the nous to compete in transfers and contract negotiations, and Edelman can't offer that. In fact, we're still looking for a replacement for David Dein.
3. If we get that new, football-orientated MD, we're going to be spending big.
4. Danny Fiszman is the absolute ruler of Arsenal.
5. Usmanov is the major shareholder.
These are the speculations:
1. Wenger's transfer policy was dictated by Edelman, not Wenger. Wenger always knew he needed to spend big to genuinely compete, but understood the necessity of austerity. However, he's cracked the shits after this season, as evidenced by his comments over the past few days regarding Hleb, Flamini, economic "doping" and the stadium finance.
2. With a new MD who is willing to provide greater funding, Wenger will be in a position to buy established stars. Please, Wenger, a goalkeeper!
3. Fiszman sacked Edelman to shore up support against the inevitable Usmanov takeover. He knows the fans are getting pissed off about the transfer policy, and he knows that if we don't win something soon, we're going to clamour for greater involvement from Kroenke and Usmanov. I don't know how much influence fans wield in a PLC club, but it must be pretty significant for things to come to this.
Whatever the case, the new MD will have a major effect on the transfer policy specifically, and the direction of the club as a whole. If anyone has any insight on these developments, I'd love to hear them. I'm pretty clueless at the moment.
I've just got one other question: what the fuck does Peter Hill-Wood do?
- Myles Palmer, ANR, 01/05/08
Myles' right - the sacking of Keith Edelman is BIG news. I'm struggling to figure out what it means for the club. I don't live in the country, so it's a bit of a mystery. I'm going to muddle through this post, so please bear with me.
This is the information I'm getting:
1. Keith Edelman was a good managing director when the club needed finance for the stadium. He ran the club like a business. No one else in football could've managed it.
2. Keith Edelman was sacked because he's no longer useful. Now that the stadium finance is stitched up, we needed a more "football-minded" MD. We need someone with the nous to compete in transfers and contract negotiations, and Edelman can't offer that. In fact, we're still looking for a replacement for David Dein.
3. If we get that new, football-orientated MD, we're going to be spending big.
4. Danny Fiszman is the absolute ruler of Arsenal.
5. Usmanov is the major shareholder.
These are the speculations:
1. Wenger's transfer policy was dictated by Edelman, not Wenger. Wenger always knew he needed to spend big to genuinely compete, but understood the necessity of austerity. However, he's cracked the shits after this season, as evidenced by his comments over the past few days regarding Hleb, Flamini, economic "doping" and the stadium finance.
2. With a new MD who is willing to provide greater funding, Wenger will be in a position to buy established stars. Please, Wenger, a goalkeeper!
3. Fiszman sacked Edelman to shore up support against the inevitable Usmanov takeover. He knows the fans are getting pissed off about the transfer policy, and he knows that if we don't win something soon, we're going to clamour for greater involvement from Kroenke and Usmanov. I don't know how much influence fans wield in a PLC club, but it must be pretty significant for things to come to this.
Whatever the case, the new MD will have a major effect on the transfer policy specifically, and the direction of the club as a whole. If anyone has any insight on these developments, I'd love to hear them. I'm pretty clueless at the moment.
I've just got one other question: what the fuck does Peter Hill-Wood do?
Saturday, May 3, 2008
The Fugly Duckling
"We are not naive enough to think it is not linked to money. He says he wants to stay and if he goes somewhere else that means it is linked to what?"
- Arsene Wenger, with regards to Flamini
I'm paid like shit to do a job I find very rewarding. There's something innately satisfying about providing a service for people who otherwise could not afford it. You get all warm and tingly when clients are genuinely appreciative of your efforts. You feel like you've done something worthwhile. At times, it's the only reason that makes you come back the next day.
However, I've spent five years working at this place, and it's time to walk away.
In my office, above my desk, there's a map of Australia. I've got pins scattered along the eastern coast, and post-it notes girt the sea. When I'm working, while I'm waiting for the local anesthetic to take effect, I walk over to the map and look at all the sleepy beach-side towns in Queensland and NSW. In my mind, I've already got one foot out the door.
Depending on where I go, I could make up to four times what I earn now. But when I sit in my office and daydream about the future, I'm not fantasizing about big wads of cash and convertibles. It's not the reason I want to move. Rather, I'm dreaming of the beach, sub-tropical weather, and that sound the sea makes when it hisses over the sand. I'm dreaming of a chance to change and reinvent myself. I'm dreaming of a fresh start.
It's not always about the money.
When you're the ugly duckling, sometimes you need to leave the nest before you truly start to believe you can be a swan. Self improvement is a nebulous concept. When you're stuck in the same place, surrounded by the same people, sifting through the same old thought processes, change is an incredibly difficult thing to accomplish. Whenever you try to leave, old habits pull you back in. If you're serious about changing, sometimes you've just got to cut yourself off from everything you know and love.
I think it's disingenuous of Wenger to say it's all about the money. Flamini has always been dismissed as Arsenal's ugly duckling. He's forced his way past Gilberto, Diarra, Diaby and Denilson, and he's been instrumental to our success this year. Based on this year's form he's matured into an exceptional defensive midfielder.
However, doubts persist, don't they? I still don't rate him highly. I still think he's an earnest trier on a very long hot-streak. I suspect Wenger thinks the same, and hence, the unrealistic contract offer. It's difficult to change the perceptions of the people who've known you the longest.
If I stepped into Flamini's shoes right now, I imagine I'd be feeling a lot of frustration. I'd have had my head turned by the superstar wages offered by Milan and Juve. I'd have had my ego boosted by the praise from all corners. I'd have the incredible satisfaction of knowing that I'd proved all those detractors wrong, that I WAS good enough to play for this side.
And yet, when that new Arsenal contract came along, I'd have been deflated. In this day and age, money equals respect. If I'd been the best player for the season, I'd expect wages comparable to the best in the team. Fair's fair. To be offered a contract substantially less than that is to told that, no, you're not that good and you're still a mediocre stand-by. It would be incredibly frustrating, and I'd be agitating for a move to a club where my qualities were respected and valued. I'd want to show the world that I'd changed into a swan.
If I was Flamini, I'd be stalling on that contract, too.
- Arsene Wenger, with regards to Flamini
I'm paid like shit to do a job I find very rewarding. There's something innately satisfying about providing a service for people who otherwise could not afford it. You get all warm and tingly when clients are genuinely appreciative of your efforts. You feel like you've done something worthwhile. At times, it's the only reason that makes you come back the next day.
However, I've spent five years working at this place, and it's time to walk away.
In my office, above my desk, there's a map of Australia. I've got pins scattered along the eastern coast, and post-it notes girt the sea. When I'm working, while I'm waiting for the local anesthetic to take effect, I walk over to the map and look at all the sleepy beach-side towns in Queensland and NSW. In my mind, I've already got one foot out the door.
Depending on where I go, I could make up to four times what I earn now. But when I sit in my office and daydream about the future, I'm not fantasizing about big wads of cash and convertibles. It's not the reason I want to move. Rather, I'm dreaming of the beach, sub-tropical weather, and that sound the sea makes when it hisses over the sand. I'm dreaming of a chance to change and reinvent myself. I'm dreaming of a fresh start.
It's not always about the money.
When you're the ugly duckling, sometimes you need to leave the nest before you truly start to believe you can be a swan. Self improvement is a nebulous concept. When you're stuck in the same place, surrounded by the same people, sifting through the same old thought processes, change is an incredibly difficult thing to accomplish. Whenever you try to leave, old habits pull you back in. If you're serious about changing, sometimes you've just got to cut yourself off from everything you know and love.
I think it's disingenuous of Wenger to say it's all about the money. Flamini has always been dismissed as Arsenal's ugly duckling. He's forced his way past Gilberto, Diarra, Diaby and Denilson, and he's been instrumental to our success this year. Based on this year's form he's matured into an exceptional defensive midfielder.
However, doubts persist, don't they? I still don't rate him highly. I still think he's an earnest trier on a very long hot-streak. I suspect Wenger thinks the same, and hence, the unrealistic contract offer. It's difficult to change the perceptions of the people who've known you the longest.
If I stepped into Flamini's shoes right now, I imagine I'd be feeling a lot of frustration. I'd have had my head turned by the superstar wages offered by Milan and Juve. I'd have had my ego boosted by the praise from all corners. I'd have the incredible satisfaction of knowing that I'd proved all those detractors wrong, that I WAS good enough to play for this side.
And yet, when that new Arsenal contract came along, I'd have been deflated. In this day and age, money equals respect. If I'd been the best player for the season, I'd expect wages comparable to the best in the team. Fair's fair. To be offered a contract substantially less than that is to told that, no, you're not that good and you're still a mediocre stand-by. It would be incredibly frustrating, and I'd be agitating for a move to a club where my qualities were respected and valued. I'd want to show the world that I'd changed into a swan.
If I was Flamini, I'd be stalling on that contract, too.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Milligan to join the Arse!
"I signed Mark Milligan because he's a very good player, he's very versatile, and he's Australian. We need more Australians at the Arsenal. They're fucking brilliant."
- Wenger, hopefully on July 1st, about Arsenal's new signing!
Mark Milligan, Olyroos captain and Sydney FC defender, is set to join Arsenal. Wow! This makes me happy. Very happy. Estactic, even. In a few months time I'll be cheering one of our own. I already tear up at the start of Socceroo games when they play the national anthem and our disparate band of players stumble over those lyrics that mean so much when you're an ex-pat living in a cold, distant land. I'm not sure how emotional I'm going to get when I see Milligan trot out for the Arse, but I'm going to stock up on Kleenex.
I love the fact that this guy has the technical ability to play Wengerball. It's a big tick for the future of the Australian team, and it's especially comforting considering the lack of talent which follows the Kewell/Bresciano/Cahill generation. He's a full back who plays as a centre-back for Australia, and can moonlight as a defensive midfielder. He's probably not a direct replacement for Flamini, but he's miles better-looking. And he's Australian.
I wish I could make an intelligent comment about this, but I'm a blubbering twit at the moment. So fucking happy.
Did I mention he's Australian?
- Wenger, hopefully on July 1st, about Arsenal's new signing!
Mark Milligan, Olyroos captain and Sydney FC defender, is set to join Arsenal. Wow! This makes me happy. Very happy. Estactic, even. In a few months time I'll be cheering one of our own. I already tear up at the start of Socceroo games when they play the national anthem and our disparate band of players stumble over those lyrics that mean so much when you're an ex-pat living in a cold, distant land. I'm not sure how emotional I'm going to get when I see Milligan trot out for the Arse, but I'm going to stock up on Kleenex.
I love the fact that this guy has the technical ability to play Wengerball. It's a big tick for the future of the Australian team, and it's especially comforting considering the lack of talent which follows the Kewell/Bresciano/Cahill generation. He's a full back who plays as a centre-back for Australia, and can moonlight as a defensive midfielder. He's probably not a direct replacement for Flamini, but he's miles better-looking. And he's Australian.
I wish I could make an intelligent comment about this, but I'm a blubbering twit at the moment. So fucking happy.
Did I mention he's Australian?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Ramsay's Football Nightmares
"Get your fucking defence sort before you start fucking about with fucking pretty football, Arsene! Your fucking fans don't give a flying fuck about how you fucking play, as long as you fucking win."
- Gordon Ramsay (hypothetically), when confronted with Arsenal FC
Gordon Ramsay is inspirational. He's a mean, nasty, pissed-off old sod, but his professionalism is excellent. He wants the best, expects the best and more often than not, achieves it. There's a reason Gordon's Kitchen Nightmares is the surprise ratings hit on Australian TV, and it's not just because he's got a limited vocabulary and likes to express it.
I heard that Ramsay used to be a pro footballer. It got me thinking. This is what might happen if "Ramsay's Football Nightmares" eventuated:
1. Inspection
GR: I see a formerly great team in desperate need of overhaul. All the ingredients are there to make this club successful, but they're piss-farting around. There's an impressive stadium in a great location, a dedicated fan base, a world-class manager and a playing staff... but what the fuck has gone wrong?
2. Heart to heart with Arsene
GR: Oh my God! Take a look at this crap. Arsene, you may like playing this over-elaborated crap, but your fans don't. Serve them simple, fresh, direct football that's easy to play and looks great. You can't go wrong with speedy wingers, one-touch football and dynamic, clinical strikers. You need to invest money in your playing stock. If you buy crap, you're going to serve up crap.
Take a look at the squad; it's in desperate need of an over-haul. Your players take you for granted, they look for other jobs on the sly, they're lazy and they take advantage of you. You're the fucking boss - act like the fucking boss. Don't whinge to the fucking media about players being tapped up; put the fucking fear of God into your players so they won't even look at other clubs.
3. Heart to heart with the players
GR: Look, you fuckers. You're in a Michelin rated football club. Don't you realise how fucking lucky you are to be playing here? Don't take it for fucking granted. You've got ten fucking years of top-level football in you, and you've wasted your first big opportunity to succeed. You're going to the press and saying how you're all ready for next year, and everything's going to be fine? Don't fucking say it - fucking do it.
4. Overhauling the club
GR: I see a squad that's badly in need of modernising. It's stuck in the early 00s. Warm, comforting colours and simple design. We need a fast winger, a clinical striker and a world-class goalkeeper. And for God's sake, get a fucking defensive coach to stop those fucking weak goals.
5. Opening night.
Well, we'll just have to wait and see, right?
- Gordon Ramsay (hypothetically), when confronted with Arsenal FC
Gordon Ramsay is inspirational. He's a mean, nasty, pissed-off old sod, but his professionalism is excellent. He wants the best, expects the best and more often than not, achieves it. There's a reason Gordon's Kitchen Nightmares is the surprise ratings hit on Australian TV, and it's not just because he's got a limited vocabulary and likes to express it.
I heard that Ramsay used to be a pro footballer. It got me thinking. This is what might happen if "Ramsay's Football Nightmares" eventuated:
1. Inspection
GR: I see a formerly great team in desperate need of overhaul. All the ingredients are there to make this club successful, but they're piss-farting around. There's an impressive stadium in a great location, a dedicated fan base, a world-class manager and a playing staff... but what the fuck has gone wrong?
2. Heart to heart with Arsene
GR: Oh my God! Take a look at this crap. Arsene, you may like playing this over-elaborated crap, but your fans don't. Serve them simple, fresh, direct football that's easy to play and looks great. You can't go wrong with speedy wingers, one-touch football and dynamic, clinical strikers. You need to invest money in your playing stock. If you buy crap, you're going to serve up crap.
Take a look at the squad; it's in desperate need of an over-haul. Your players take you for granted, they look for other jobs on the sly, they're lazy and they take advantage of you. You're the fucking boss - act like the fucking boss. Don't whinge to the fucking media about players being tapped up; put the fucking fear of God into your players so they won't even look at other clubs.
3. Heart to heart with the players
GR: Look, you fuckers. You're in a Michelin rated football club. Don't you realise how fucking lucky you are to be playing here? Don't take it for fucking granted. You've got ten fucking years of top-level football in you, and you've wasted your first big opportunity to succeed. You're going to the press and saying how you're all ready for next year, and everything's going to be fine? Don't fucking say it - fucking do it.
4. Overhauling the club
GR: I see a squad that's badly in need of modernising. It's stuck in the early 00s. Warm, comforting colours and simple design. We need a fast winger, a clinical striker and a world-class goalkeeper. And for God's sake, get a fucking defensive coach to stop those fucking weak goals.
5. Opening night.
Well, we'll just have to wait and see, right?
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