Peacemaker7

If you had the opportunity to wish for anything in the world, what would it be? Money, fame, good health, a never ending packet of polo's. You probably have a good idea of what you would want, and I did too. Somehow, what I actually wished for wasn't quite what I expected I would.

My Uncle Charlie had died whilst climbing some mountain Africa. At least, thats what the letter said. I didn't even know I had an Uncle Charlie, let alone that the silly bugger was climbing up some pointless mountains. Still, he must have known me as he left me this present in his will, which kind of made me feel bad.

The box was a bit tatty, and felt fairly heavy as I lugged it onto the no 9 bus, before realise that in fact I needed to get the number 12. Eventually I got home, and excitedly started to rip the box open. Perhaps it was full of gold coins, or mibbe gold bars. What I didnt expect was to find an old oil lamp, a bit like they one they had in Alladin.

Exactly why the old poof had left me this mangy piece of crap was beyond. Perhaps it was because I had forgotten him, and this was some kind of revenge. Or perhaps he was just a stupid old bugger who deserved what he got in the end. What the hell was I wanting with this? I didnt know, and laughingly wondered if a Genie would pop out if I rubbed it.

So I rubber, and a Genie a popped out.

'I am the Genie of the Lamp' the Genie said, 'I will grant you one wish.'

'Wow thats fantastic' I said, 'One wish? Can I wish..... hey wait a minute I thought it was supposed to be three wishes!!'

'Yeah' the Genie informed me sadly, 'cut backs you know. Too many people were using their wishes for daft things like sausages on the ends of their noses.'

I stood thinking for a minute. I could wish for lots of money, that would be cool. Or I could wish to be Super Human. Or......and then I blurted out, 'Ok I want to be manager of Forfar Athletic'.

I could tell by the look on the Genie's face that he considered me another of those freaks who wasted their wishes.

'Very well then' and with a poof, he was gone although if truth be told I hadn't noticed the poof till that moment. But each to own eh.

The next thing I knew, I was in a taxi pulling up outside Station Park in Forfar. It seemed I had an interview for the Forfar job, which to me seemed as if the Genie had screwed up until Chairman David McGregor informed me that the other two candidates were Ted Locke and Berti Vogts. The job was guaranteed to be mine.

millwallrules

great start mate,looking forward for this one

uskopite

lmfao --

Well, duh. . .

(I love you sense of humor -- good start.)

Spav

Meh, just another wacky noob story, might as well see where it goes.

Peacemaker7

Driving away from Station Park there were a few things bothering me - like why the Genie hadn't actually granted me my wish like. Oh sure, I had gotten the Forfar job. I mean what idiot would want to employ Ted Locke, and as for Berti Vogts well. But then I had gotten the job on my own merit, there was nothing magical about getting through a job interview. Well unless you count that bitch that somehow got a job at Smiths.

'Oh sure' the Genie popped up besides me as I drove, 'Because you could oh so easily walk into any football and get a job couldn't you.'

'Erm, well, no.' I admitted 'But then again the BBC employed Sandy Clark as a commentator.'

'Its just so typical.' The Genie carried on ignoring my quite sensible point, 'You think all we have to do is wave a wand, but there is so much more to it than that. But never you mind, if you feel you got the job without my help, you keep being an ungrateful bastard.'

And then he was gone, and thankfully I never saw the git again and as the years rolled by I would eventually forget that I had apparantly gotten this job by magical means. And yet strange things kept happening that probably should have reminded me that I was living in a fantasy world. Like in my first season in charge, Hamilton Accies reached the Scottish Final and got from the First Division.

Yet if that had seemed strange, even stranger things were happening. Motherwell won the SPL, and Raptor showed up at an FMS meet up with a real woman, who claimed she was his wife. It struck me that I didn't know a Raptor in this reality - but then again I had to ask myself where the hell the car I was driving had come from. And remind myself that I couldn't actually drive.

Peacemaker7

Thanks

I'm hoping to try something a little different here rather than a continued diatribe of match reports. But we'll see.

Peacemaker7

I dont normally correct my mistakes but that ones a tad important

displaced_seagull

Nice start, as ever :thup:

Peacemaker7

Tnx Stu

Peacemaker7

Alighting from the plane at Glasgow Airport, I was quite miffed that there was no crowd, no paperazzi to greet me. Then I remembered this was Glasgow, even though in fact it was Paisley, and no-one in this part of the country knew where Forfar was let alone that they had a football team. There were only two teams in Scotland after all.

I was just exiting the airport, when I suddenly remembered something. I lived in Dundee.

The reason I lived in Dundee had come back to me in a flash. Apparantly I played football for them. Apparantly I had also played for St Mirren and Forfar, which probably explains why I got the job so easily. My Genie had certainly gone to great lengths to create my wish, and made a mental note to thank him one day. It was a note that I completely forgot about.

Hoping back on the the plane to Forfar, my private yacht pulled up at port in Arbroath and I made my way to my home in Dundee by train. It had been a strange day that had started at some point and was now about to end, and I was going to bed when the doorbell rang. I thought about not answering it, but then realised it might be some glamorous model that I was dating. After all, I was famous footballer who had just been appointed to a prestigious management post.

Of course, that was bollox, and indeed so were my guests who turned out to be Raptor and his pretty Singaporean wife who spoke no English, along with Bagpuss, SMSL and Spav who had just flown all the way over from Australia. It was of course an FNS meetup, and it was apparantly my turn to host. Kind of the Genie to tell me that, and it might explain why I had forgotten to fill the fridge.

Still, this wasn't Torquay and we easily found a fish and chip shop that was actually open and so the travellers didn't go hungry. They were all in awe of me it seemed, especially SMSL who was still trying his best to manage to some crappy team in the 201st level of the English pyramid. I would have offered him the position of Assistant Manager, but I didn't actually want the team to be relegated.

The next day I rushed out to buy a newspaper, but my only mentions were odd paragraph stating that some wee silly team had appointed a new boss, but really it wasn't worth their while wasting ink on it when a certain Rangers players wife had broken a finger nail, which was clearly far more important. Managing a team like Forfar was not going to be easy, and when I tell you that by the time we played Morton at Cappielow on the last day of my first season in charge, we found ourselves over a quarter of a million pounds in debt, you can see part of the problem.

Of course a lot of so called bigger clubs - so called because they were actualy bigger than us - a lot of those clubs would die for a debt of a quarter of a million pounds. The reality for us though that such a debt would indeed be the death of us. If I sold the whole playing squad it wouldn't even half the debt, and then of course we wouldn't have any players to actually play and that would be a tad silly.

But thats life at a small club, and we just had to get on with it. I suppose.