Glory Of The Football Manager System

Chapter 115: The Interview I

I barely slept. I tossed and turned, my mind a relentless carousel of questions, answers, and anxieties.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the faces of the interview panel, their expressions unreadable, their judgment final. I saw the faces of my players, their hopes and dreams intertwined with my own. I saw Emma’s face, her unwavering belief a beacon in the storm of my self-doubt.

At 4 am, I gave up. I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Emma, and went into the living room. I opened my laptop, the screen a harsh glare in the pre-dawn darkness. I needed to do something, anything, to quiet the noise in my head. I needed to be prepared. Not just for the questions I expected, but for the ones I didn’t.

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As the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, I closed my laptop. I was ready. I had done everything I could. The rest was in the hands of fate.

Emma found me an hour later, asleep on the sofa, my laptop still warm on my chest. She woke me with a gentle kiss and a cup of coffee.

"You’ve done enough," she said, her voice soft. "You’re ready."

And for the first time, I truly believed her.

The journey to London was a blur. The train ride from Manchester Piccadilly to London Euston was a two-hour stretch of nervous energy and forced calm.

answers suddenly feeling hollow and rehearsed. I tried to listen to music, but the melodies couldn’t drown out the frantic rhythm of my

normal people living their normal lives, and I felt a million miles away from them, a man on a different planet, on a different timeline, heading towards a destiny that was both

his voice confident and assured

crying

a newspaper, their comfortable silence a testament to decades of companionship. Normal people. Normal lives. And here I was, a lad from Moss Side, on my way

we pulled into Euston:

genuine smile that reached my eyes. "Love you too. Wish me

reply was instant: "You don’t need

The carriage was packed with commuters, all of them staring at

the answers I had prepared, the questions I anticipated, the moments that could make or

Crystal Palace training ground, Copers Cope, my new suit feeling strange and unfamiliar, my heart

that spoke of investment, ambition, and professionalism. I arrived at 9:15 am, forty-five minutes early, too nervous to

checked me in. "Danny Walsh, here for an interview with Gary Issott," I

smile on his

said. "Can I wait

watch the U18s training if you want," he said, pointing towards a pitch in the distance. "They’re on

Pitch 3, a perfect green rectangle surrounded by a low fence, and I watched. The U18s were in the middle of a