Glory Of The Football Manager System

Chapter 115

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.

of my eyes, the carefully prepared answers suddenly feeling hollow and rehearsed. I tried to listen to music, but the melodies couldn’t

normal people living their normal lives, and I felt a million miles away from them, a man on a different planet,

businessman across the aisle was on a conference call, his voice confident and assured as he discussed quarterly projections and market

crying baby, her face a mask of

Normal lives. And here

Euston: "You’ve got

small, genuine smile that reached

"You don’t need

that felt like an eternity. The carriage was packed with commuters, all of them staring at their phones or lost in

door, my portfolio clutched tightly in my hand, my mind racing through the answers I had prepared, the

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

impressive, a sprawling complex of pitches and buildings that spoke of investment, ambition, and professionalism. I arrived at 9:15 am, forty-five minutes early, too nervous to wait, too anxious to be

Walsh, here for an interview with

a kind smile on his face. "Interview’s

said. "Can

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

by a low fence, and I watched. The U18s were in the middle of a pressing drill, and as

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