Around The World - A Journey of Sorts

24th June 2019 - Why wasn't I named Armstrong?

I wish today had some sort of history behind it. It would really give a sense of auspiciousness to what I'm about to do. 

Let's see….Macchu Picchu was rediscovered, good for them. Neil Armstrong returned to Earth on Apollo 11 to remind us of our tiny place in the universe and Lance Armstrong won his 7th and final Tour de France. Glad that turned out well. You'd think being named Armstrong was a good thing for today. Well, for Neil at least. We don't mention Lance these days. 

Seems apt that the two Armstrong's achieved their crowning achievements on this day. One reduced to a shadow of his previous image, the other revered as a hero for all humankind. I wonder which path is mine to walk.

Well, enough beating around the bush. The reason I picked today to start this is that I made a rather momentous decision this morning. Well, while on the toilet, to be precise. I wanted to become a football manager. 

No, it wasn't the previous night's dinner that fetched up these thoughts within me. It wasn't even a moment of inspiration. No Archimedes got up from his morning poo to sprint around town butt-naked, telling the world about his brilliant idea to become a football manager. Rather, it was a simple dissatisfaction with everything. Everything in my life right now, at least. After stumbling around for a few years pretending that I had a handle on things, it's come to a point where I can barely believe that I have any redeemable talent to provide to the world. Seems a lot to say for a 19-year-old, doesn't it? Not if you're me. 

This is ridiculous. This is exactly the kind of idea that comes up after a night that should have ended about two hours before it actually did. This is the kind of idea that is going to kill you, but not before it saps away your will to live. This is yet another act of pure stupidity. 

But then again, what else do I have?

Ted Bundy was also found guilty today. That's comforting. 

25th June 2019 - Third Culture Kid

I should probably give some context to this, seeing as somebody might read this in the future. Maybe a journalist looking for a hot story, a manager looking for the keys to success. Or it might be my kid. Jeez, imagine me having a kid. 

I was born in Chennai, in the South of India. I was lucky to have been born to an affluent family with plenty of money to spend on all that I desired. Money was always something I appreciated about my family. Shame the people had to come with it as well. 

At about age 11, we all moved to Singapore in search of more money. As a result, I managed to grow up with even more luxuries available, from the finest of clothes to the hardest of alcohol. Never had to ask for a damn thing. Now that I think about it, that's probably where the bug bit. 

It came over me in a flash. Without prompting. Just a simple game of FIFA on a September afternoon. I had played the game for around 5 years at that point and had never been hugely interested in the sport. Being an Indian, cricket was always king in my household. Yet, something about that game I played, a 5-0 drubbing of Arsenal as Chelsea (on beginner mode, mind you), seemed to pique my interest. From that point, it's a blur to me. Might have been a blur for other reasons, now that I think of it. Let's just say that year was eventful. 

It's been a few years since that moment. My brain has considerably deteriorated since then. What was once a promising report card turned into dropping out of school. Well, I didn't exactly drop out. Same way managers are “asked to resign”.

So here we are. I've been living in the UK for a while now. Seemed to be the only place that had family willing to take me. It's been cool, but nothing's really improved from Singapore. It definitely isn't home. Home is a concept I don't fully understand at this stage. Is it where you live? Where you grow up? Where your loved ones are? I couldn't give you a proper answer for any of those definitions. 

Well, time to find a home then. And hope it sells Grey Goose. 

21st Jul 2019 - Couch-Surfing

Unemployment sucks.

I don't just mean that in a “starving to death and need money” kind of way. No, unemployment is a slow killer. If the onset of panic over the harsh reality of your life doesn't set in, the pure boredom is more than enough to render you an unintelligible blob of blood and flesh. 

It has been nearly a month since I last updated this journal, and there is a good reason for that. I imagined a team wanting to sign a manager with no prior experience in any form of the game would be hard to find, but I certainly didn't think that it would be this hard. From the coasts of Indonesia to the mountains of Sweden, no one seems to have a home for me. 

Not that there aren't some teams who are desperate. 

This is probably the best of the lot that I have received. They're predicted to be in a relegation battle in the second tier of Northern Ireland this season, but with a little bit of genius (and a lot of luck) that could easily change. 

The British Isles seem to really love hiring managers with no experience. That being said, this is less of a gamble for the club. They play in the second tier of Welsh football and I'm 90% sure that their striker is also the village postman. Still, any opportunity is a good opportunity at this point.

This brings up a question - why am I holding out? Well, there may be something better on the horizon that might be worth waiting for. I'm not gonna mention it - bad luck and all of that. So I guess you're left with a cliffhanger then. Good. 

Hopefully, the Guilsfield postman delivers regularly……

23rd July 2019 - First Dose

So remember my dawdling from the last entry? Yeah, I kind of gave up on that and took the best job available.  

Seeing a headline on Goal.com with my mug on it gives me the sort of thrill I haven't felt in a while. Here I am. A football manager at last. 

Colin Russell, my boss, seemed all too happy to have appointed me and upon my arrival at Breda Park immediately began our meeting with a long, boring lecture about the club's history. I'll save you all the trouble of that. 

Quite frankly, their history isn't the greatest. A third-division trophy from 8 years ago is the last time that they can boast success, and I wouldn't exactly be telling the grandchildren about that victory. Since that promotion, it's been a never-ending battle to keep afloat in the second division. Almost like a Northern Irish Rotherham. How lovely. 

Their future plans don't smack of much ambition either. Simply floating the idea of maybe becoming a top half team in the championship seems like an utter waste of five years. They'd be lucky if I stuck around for more than two. 

Well, it'll do for now. It's definitely a chance to prove myself. Survive the drop here, and doors will open. If we survive, that is.