The Journey Begins (again)

Some of you might remember when I first tried this a few months ago. I spent a month building up Julien's story, but in the end, I didn't really manage to translate it into the game. Now I’m trying again; I have a concept in mind that I think could work.

Let’s summarize where we left off when FM26 was released in early November:

Julien Gauthier, who moved from Le Havre to Everton at a young age, from where he was loaned to Preston, and then to the German side Bochum in the final year of his contract. After they were relegated from the Bundesliga, he returned home to France, where, as captain, he led Grenoble back to the French top flight after 60 years. He became a legend, but after his club went bankrupt, he signed with St. Étienne and won the League Cup in the penultimate year of his career. In the following season, his right ankle—which had troubled him many times throughout his career—finally gave out for good.

He spent the next 10 years attending coaching courses and working extensively as an assistant manager. He strongly expected to eventually take the reins at Grenoble, but that never materialized. In 2022, he became the assistant manager at his boyhood club, Le Havre, under Luka Elsner. They performed so well that Reims, aiming for European competition, came calling for Elsner (in the summer of 2024), who asked Gauthier to follow him as his assistant. Julien didn't hesitate for long, but the mission ended in failure. In the spring of 2025, when the team was closer to the relegation zone than to Europe, the coaching duo was sacked.

Julien is married to his wife, Laura, and they have two children: 13-year-old Camille and 10-year-old Louis.

So, this is where we start. I hope I’ll have more success this time than I did before.

About the save: The active leagues are those where Julien has spent time during his career—France, England, and Germany. In addition, I've included Switzerland and Italy (due to their proximity to Grenoble; Northern Italy, in particular, could be a realistic destination for Julien), as well as Belgium. All leagues from these six countries are included in the game.

So, here we are on February 26, 2026. There are a total of 17 vacant managerial positions in the leagues mentioned above. The most prominent vacancies are at Sheffield United, currently sitting 18th in the Championship, and Hannover, 14th in the 2. Bundesliga. 

However, Julien doesn't feel ready for these roles just yet. On the other hand, the vacancy at Pau FC—who are currently rock bottom of Ligue 2—has certainly piqued his interest.

However, Julien spent so much time overthinking his application that by the time he was ready to apply, it was already too late:

Once Julien started showing signs of life, the French press tracked him down immediately. He was questioned regarding the struggling Nancy, and he spoke with surprising honesty. He admitted that he is closely monitoring the situation and would be interested in the opportunity.

See you as soon as something interesting happens - most likely in a couple of days. And this time, it’s going to be a very slow burn..

February 28, 2026

The Hunt Is On

Saturday morning began with the Gauthier family’s usual routine. Julien, who had been enjoying the comforts of home for a year now, hopped on his bike to pick up fresh croissants and baguettes from the small bakery nearby. Meanwhile, Laura was busy in the kitchen, preparing everything for breakfast. By the time Julien returned, the kids were already awake.

At the table, Laura and Julien discussed the potential opportunity in Nancy. They both knew Julien had been deeply missing the dressing room atmosphere and the feel of the grass under his boots. Laura wasn't against the idea of moving either—though only after the school year ended—as they had truly cherished this year of freedom and togetherness.

As they chatted over breakfast, little Louis’s eyes caught the back page of the Saturday morning paper.

"Dad, Dad! Look at this!" he shouted, pointing excitedly at a headline.

Julien took the newspaper, and a sudden silence fell over the room. The whole family looked at him with knowing smiles. They understood that this wasn’t just about finally getting a chance to work again. This was about Grenoble. This was about going home—perhaps not forever, but with a bit of luck, for years to come.

With a wide grin, Julien kissed his son on the forehead, grabbed his phone, and began walking out of the kitchen.

"Keep eating. I’ll be back in a few minutes!" he said.

He stepped out onto the terrace, the crisp February air hitting his face as he looked at the digital edition of the news on his phone. The headline was stark: "Rizzetto sacked by Grenoble."

After yesterday’s painful defeat against Boulogne, the club had slipped to 11th place, now languishing only five points above the relegation zone. Chairperson Stéphane Rosnoblet had finally seen enough. The "writing had been on the wall" for Rizzetto, but for Julien, those words felt like an invitation.

He scrolled through the article, his heart racing. Les Bleu et Blanc were looking for a new manager. Someone who understood the club’s DNA. Someone who wouldn't just fight for survival, but would rebuild the soul of the team.

Julien didn't hesitate. He bypassed his agent for a moment and dialed a number he hadn't called in a long time—a direct line to a contact deep within the Stade des Alpes.

Julien could hardly believe his ears. Back in his day, he was never granted such a smooth transition, yet here was Marama Vahirua, handed the conductor’s baton just like that. He stood on the terrace for a moment, the cold phone still pressed to his palm, before taking a deep breath and heading back inside.

The warmth of the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee felt distant now. He sat back down, the newspaper still open on the table.

"And?" Laura asked, her eyes searching his face.

"They received the application," Julien began, his voice low. "But there’s a catch. They aren’t looking to appoint anyone immediately. Marama Vahirua has been put in temporary charge."

He looked at his children, then back at his wife. "The board wants to give him a chance to prove himself. They’re going to wait and see how the team performs under him before making a final decision."

Vahirua, the Tahitian legend known for his "paddling" goal celebration ( https://www.youtube.com/shorts/sZ56lImMY14?feature=share ), was now the man standing between Julien and his dream of returning to the Stade des Alpes. The family’s smiles faded slightly, replaced by a tense curiosity. The wait wasn't over; it had simply turned into a high-stakes waiting game. Julien knew all too well that in football, "temporary" could either mean two weeks or the rest of the season.

But Julien was done waiting. He had been burned before, letting his heart dictate his career moves whenever a whisper of a Grenoble opening reached his ears. This time, pragmatism took the lead. If the Stade des Alpes wanted to gamble on an interim solution, he would look elsewhere to prove his worth.

The Ligue 2 managerial carousel was spinning fast. Another vacancy had just opened up, and Julien didn't hesitate to throw his hat into the ring.

SC Bastia, the Corsican club was in dire straits, sitting in 18th place—rock bottom. Yet, hope wasn't lost; they were a mere point away from safety.

"I can't just sit here watching Vahirua from the sidelines," Julien said, his eyes sharp with a renewed focus. "Bastia needs a fighter.  I'm going to apply for this job too."

Laura nodded slowly, understanding the shift in his energy. The romantic idea of returning home to Grenoble was being replaced by the raw ambition of a man who simply needed to lead a team again. Julien reached for his laptop, the breakfast forgotten. By noon, his CV was sitting in the inbox of the chairman in Corsica. The hunt was truly on.

Julien stared at his screen, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. He turned the laptop around so Laura could see the latest email.

"SC Bastia job application received."

The message from Claude Ferrandi was a carbon copy of the situation in Grenoble. The board acknowledged his interest, only to deliver the same punchline: Emmanuel Giudicelli, the assistant, was being given the reigns to prove himself.

"Is this a joke?" Julien asked, leaning back in his chair. "It’s like they’re all reading from the same script. Grenoble has Vahirua, Bastia has Giudicelli... Everyone wants to 'wait and see' while their ships are sinking."

The Corsican project, was frozen in the same state of uncertainty. Julien felt the walls of his home office closing in. He had spent a year away from the game, and now that he was ready to throw himself into the fire, he was being told to wait in the lobby.

Julien pushed the laptop away, the screen dimming as if reflecting his own dampened spirits. The excitement that had filled the kitchen just an hour ago had evaporated, replaced by the reality of the "interim" trend sweeping through Ligue 2.

"So, Julien waits," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He realized there was nothing more he could do today. The CVs were sent, the calls were made, and the chess pieces were on the board—even if the chairmen weren't ready to move them yet.

Laura reached across the table and squeezed his hand, drawing him back to the present. "Enough football for today, okay? Tomorrow is Sunday. No school, no training sessions, no refreshing emails every five minutes."

Julien looked at her and managed a small, appreciative smile. She was right. He had spent a year enjoying this freedom; he shouldn't let a few "wait and see" emails ruin the weekend.

"You're right," he said, standing up to clear the breakfast plates. "Let's plan tomorrow. A long walk along the coast of Le Havre? The fresh air will do us all some good."

"Perfect," Laura replied, her smile brightening. "A family day. No phones, just the beach and the wind."

"We'll see what Monday brings," Julien added, casting one last glance at his silent phone before closing the kitchen door. "But for now, let's just be the Gauthiers."

See you as soon as something interesting happens!

March 1st, 2026

The Shores of Le Havre

The first day of spring brought the family to the coast of Le Havre. It was their first seaside walk of the year. They spent the afternoon on the shore, the conversation drifting between memories of Julien’s parents and the familys plans for the coming months. For a few hours, the phone stayed in Julien's pocket.

Early afternoon, they stopped at a waterfront restaurant for lunch. The atmosphere was relaxed until Julien noticed the TV in the corner. A sports channel was running a segment on the Ligue 2 relegation battle.

Then his face appeared on the screen next to the AS Nancy Lorraine crest. The headline was blunt: "NANCY FANS LAUGH OFF INTEREST FROM GAUTHIER."

The report quoted a supporters' spokesperson who dismissed his interest as a joke, claiming he had "no chance" and that the club wouldn't even consider other candidates while Pablo Correa was still in charge. The phrase 'Currently unemployed' sat under his name in bold letters.

They went silent. Julien stared at the screen, the public rejection felt bad. He had reached out in good faith, and now he was being mocked on national TV.

It was Camille who finally broke the tension. She looked at the TV, then back at her father.

"Well, we wanted to go home to Grenoble anyway, didn't we?"

The dry remark caught them off guard. Julien looked at Laura, a short laugh escaped him, and the tension in his shoulders finally dropped. They finished their desserts, paid the bill, and drove home in silence. The news was out, the door to Nancy was slammed shut, and for the first time in weeks, the path forward felt clear—even if it was blocked.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, the salty breeze of Le Havre had been replaced by the familiar, grounding scents of home. The knot in Julien’s chest, tied tight by the mockery on the television, began to loosen. Camille retreated to her room with a quiet "I have homework," but the lingering smirk on her face suggested she knew exactly what she’d done—her dry remark at the restaurant had been the anchor her father needed.

Later that evening, as the house grew quiet, Julien and Laura sat in the living room with the laptop closed and the TV off. The conversation wasn't a frantic analysis of job openings, but a practical map of the week ahead.

As Julien watched the sunset from the window, the "Currently Unemployed" label no longer felt like a brand of shame. It was just a temporary status, a pause between chapters. The fans in Nancy could laugh all they wanted; they were stuck in a relegation fight, and he was home, surrounded by the only team that never stopped believing in him.

See you on:

March 3rd, 2026

Yesterday felt strangely normal. After dropping the kids off at school, Julien drove the car to a local garage for its long-overdue service. The walls of the workshop were a shrine to Le Havre AC, plastered with posters and memorabilia.

"I know exactly who you are," the mechanic, Pierre, said with a grin, pointing to a framed team photo from the 2022/23 season. There stood Julien, positioned right in the center with the coaching staff, shoulder to shoulder with Luka Elsner. They spent a good twenty minutes reminiscing about that triumphant season when the club clawed its way back into the top flight. Pierre sighed as he wiped his grease-stained hands. "You shouldn't have left. If that group were still together, we wouldn't be looking at the relegation zone right now," he added. He told Julien the car would be ready the next day. They shook hands, and Julien took a taxi home. With the kids at school and Laura out doing the weekly shopping, the rest of the day passed in a quiet, uneventful blur.

But today, something really happened. It's just before 9:00 AM. Laura had just returned from the school run to find Julien standing in the kitchen, slowly lowering his phone from his ear. His expression was unreadable.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"The President of FC Rouen," Julien replied. "They want to bring me in for an interview."

Rouen was currently sitting in 10th place in the Championnat National—the French third tier. A semi-professional setup.

Laura looked at him, waiting for his reaction. "And?"

"I said no," Julien said firmly. He looked out the window, his mind flashing back to the posters in the garage and the heights he had already reached. "I’m better than that"

A few hours later, the French sports media caught wind of the story. It didn’t take long for the headlines to pop up on various football portals. Julien and Laura sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through the news, unable to suppress their laughter at the speed of the rumor mill. It was almost surreal to see his name being debated with such intensity. After all, Julien had never actually held a head coaching position for a senior first team before; his reputation was built on his his work behind the scenes as an assistant manager in the last decade or so, he wasn't even a french international, just a guy with a few good seasons in Ligue 1. Yet, there it was—the press dissecting his "rejection" of Rouen as if it were a major power move in the coaching market.

"They’re talking about me like I’m some seasoned veteran holding out for a Champions League team," Julien joked, tossing his phone onto the table.

Early in the afternoon, Julien’s phone buzzed with an unfamiliar Parisian number. It was a journalist from L'Équipe TV, looking for a quote on the rumors regarding FC Rouen. 

He didn't want to get into a long debate or sound arrogant, so he kept his answer brief and professional. When asked why he had declined the opportunity to start his head coaching career there, Julien simply replied:

"I just didn't have any interest in taking them up on their offer, it's as simple as that."

He hung up and shared a look with Laura. It felt right. He was honest. Later, seeing his own words scrolling across the ticker on the sports news felt surreal. He hadn't even coached a single match as a manager yet, but the media was already treating his decisions like major news. It was a strange, laughing moment for the family—an "unemployed" man turning down jobs on national television.

But the day wasn’t over for the Gauthier family. While the possibilities in Grenoble and Bastia had felt like distant flickers in the previous days, Julien was still holding out hope for a call from home—from Grenoble. He was certain about one thing: he wouldn't settle for anything below the French second flight. However, as he was scrolling through the weekend’s international football news, a headline from across the border caught his eye: "Maassen staff leave St. Gallen roles." Enrico Maassen’s departure from the Swiss club had sparked a mass exodus, with key assistants like Marvin Compper and Sebastian Block also walking out he wasn't aware of the managerial change at St. Gallen before.

St. Gallen. A historic club in a stable, top-tier European league. It was only a few hours' drive from the French border, but it felt like a world away from the drama of Nancy or the semi-pro offers of Rouen. Julien set his laptop aside and looked at Laura. She was reading on the sofa, finally relaxed after the day's media circus.

"Laura," he started, his voice quiet but serious. "How open are you to moving? I mean, we agreed you’d follow me at the end of the school year, but... would you consider going abroad?"

Laura looked up, closing her book. The question hung in the air, shifting the focus from the familiar roads of France to the unknown possibilities of the Swiss Super League.

"Switzerland?" she asked softly. “This day has been a circus with the Rouen story and the media. Let’s sleep on it for a few days!”

A few hours later, they set out together to pick up the car.  When they arrived at the workshop, Pierre was already wiping down the windshield. 

"Right on time!" he called out, handing over the keys. "She’s purring like a kitten now. Ready for the road, wherever that next contract takes you—just remember us when you're back in the big leagues."

Julien settled into the driver's seat, the familiar smell of the car providing a strange sense of stability amidst the career chaos. They drove straight from the garage to the school gates. As the kids piled into the back seat, shouting about their day, Julien glanced at Laura. She was looking out the window, perhaps already imagining a life near the Swiss Alps—a landscape that mirrored the Grenoble Foot 38 years they both cherished so much.

At this moment I've hit continue and a few days have passed. As there are no real news until then, see you when the game stopped:

Good to have this back ,look forward to seeing where it lands

March 7th, 2026

The rest of the week slipped into a quiet, domestic routine. On Thursday, the family headed to the cinema to catch the latest animated movie, the flickering screen providing a much-needed escape from the constant refresh of football news. Behind the scenes, however, the gears were turning. Laura and Julien spent their evenings in hushed conversations, weighing the pros and cons of living on the other side of the Swiss border against the frustrating silence from Bastia and the agonizing "wait-and-see" approach of their beloved Grenoble.

By Friday night, the verdict was in. As they sat over a glass of wine after the kids had gone to bed, Laura looked at him. 

"The children are young enough to adapt," she said. "A new culture... it could be the good for them. I think we should try."

But of course, in the world of football, nothing is ever certain. Julien knew his reputation as a top-tier assistant was solid, but would a Swiss top-flight club truly gamble on a head-coaching rookie when established names were on the market?

On Saturday morning, Julien made the call to his agent. "Put my name in for the St. Gallen job," he said. "Let’s see if they’re interested in a fresh perspective."

As he hung up and opened his laptop to clear his inbox, an unfamiliar notification caught his eye. Another invitation for an interview. This time, it was from another team from Rouen: Quevilly-Rouen.  (Funny isn't it? - But no, this time we are going in a different direction)

Currently struggling in 14th place in the Championnat National, they were Rouen’s bitter rivals, even sharing the same stadium, the Stade Robert Diochon. It was almost poetic—both tenants of the same ground reached out to him within the same week. However, Julien didn't need to consult Laura this time. His ambition was clear. He had tasted the atmosphere of Ligue 1, and his standards remained firm.

Without hesitation, he declined the offer. He wasn't going to spend his weekends fighting for survival in the third tier, regardless of which locker room in Rouen he’d be sitting in. He was holding out for the second flight at the very least—or the alpine air of the Super League.

Later that morning, Julien’s agent called back with an update from Switzerland. The news wasn't an immediate "yes," but it wasn't a "no" either. St. Gallen had decided to hold off on a permanent appointment for now, giving Boro Kuzmanovic—Maassen’s former assistant—a chance to prove himself as interim manager. The club's board told the agent they would keep Julien’s CV on file and get back to him if the situation changed.
 

Another waiting game had begun.

At this moment I've hit continue and a few days have passed. See you on:

March 11th, 2026

The next few days passed in a steady rhythm. Between school runs, helping the kids with homework, and quiet walks along the coast, Julien and Laura found some moments of peace. The "Rouen circus" in the media had died down, replaced by the relentless cycle of the football calendar. By Wednesday morning, the breakfast table was once again the war room, with Julien scrolling through the latest results from the leagues in France, and Switzerland.

The clubs on his radar had a mixed weekend. SC Bastia managed a 1-0 away win against Pau FC, a result that likely bought their current staff some breathing room. Meanwhile, the news from home was less encouraging; Grenoble Foot 38 stumbled in a 2-0 defeat away at Rodez, leaving the fans increasingly restless. Across the border in Switzerland, St. Gallen—under their interim manager—battled to a hard-fought draw at home against 3rd-placed Luzern. It was a respectable point, and it left the door slightly open for a permanent appointment.

As Julien finished his coffee, his agent’s name flashed on his phone screen. This time, it wasn't a mid-table struggle. Valenciennes FC, currently sitting 4th in the Championnat National, wanted an interview. They were just three points off the leaders and a single point away from the promotion spots. For the first time, Julien hesitated. This wasn't a rescue mission; it was a promotion race. He spent the entire day weighing the pros and cons, pacing the living room while Laura watched him with knowing eyes. However, by evening, his conviction returned. If he was going to lead a team, it had to be in the professional echelons of the top two tiers. He called his agent back and declined.

With that door closed, Julien turned his attention to the upcoming weekend. Friday the 13th would bring a massive clash at the Stade des Alpes: Grenoble vs. Saint-Étienne. Between the two clubs, Julien had spent a decade of his playing career, followed by years as an assistant in Grenoble. These were the teams that defined his life in football. He debated whether showing up would look like he was "scouting" for a job, but his history with both fanbases ran too deep to stay away.

The Gauthier family would be in the stands on Friday night. Home was calling.

At this moment I've hit continue and a couple of days have passed. See you on:

March 13th, 2026

The kids had been doing so well in school that Julien and Laura decided they could afford to miss a couple of days, allowing the Gauthier family to hit the road for Grenoble as early as Thursday. By early afternoon, they had checked into a hotel conveniently located near the Stade des Alpes, the stadium’s silhouette a constant reminder of why they were there.

Later, they took a long walk through the city center. It had been nearly twenty years since Grenoble’s last historic promotion to Ligue 1, yet the city’s memory proved long. Julien was stopped several times by locals who still recognized their former captain; handshakes were exchanged, and old stories of midfield battles were briefly revived. After a quiet, hearty family dinner, the first day of their homecoming came to a close.

Friday morning, shortly after breakfast, Julien’s phone buzzed with an unfamiliar international number—a Dutch country code.  He was surprised, but he took the call. The voice on the other end was professional, inquiring about his availability for a project in the Netherlands. Julien remained composed, replying politely to the reporter of Voetbalzone that while he was certainly open to opportunities abroad, he wasn't in a rush. He made it clear that he would only move for the right project, one that aligned with his family’s needs and his own coaching philosophy.

To kill time before the big match, the family took a ride on the famous "Les Bulles" cable cars. As the glass spheres ascended toward the Bastille fortress, the panoramic view of the mountains and the Isère river was breathtaking. The children pressed their faces against the glass, mesmerized by the height, but Julien’s gaze kept drifting toward the green rectangle of the stadium below.

The scenery was stunning, but his mind was already at the 8:00 PM kickoff. He was back in the mountains, and tonight, the football world would be watching.

As the kickoff approached, a wave of nostalgia washed over Julien. The last time he had stood in this tunnel was in the spring of 2023, serving as the tactical mind behind Le Havre’s promotion charge. Back then, he was the visitor, the "enemy" plotter. Now, he was back as a supporter, yet his heart felt pulled in two directions. On one side, his beloved Grenoble was desperately fighting to avoid the drop; on the other, Saint-Étienne, a club where he had also poured years of his professional life, was hunting for a return to the top flight.

Settling into his seat, Julien’s analytical mind immediately took over, dissecting the flow of the game. To his surprise, Grenoble didn't look like a team staring at the relegation zone. They played with a brave, high press, carving out several clear-cut opportunities in the opening half-hour. The home crowd was roaring, sensing an upset. Each time Grenoble broke through the lines, the final touch was missing—a shot dragged wide, a header straight at the keeper, a cross just an inch too high.

Then, the inevitable happened. Just before the halftime whistle, in the 43rd minute, Saint-Étienne's Pierre Ekwah found a pocket of space. With a clinical finish that silenced the Stade des Alpes, he put the visitors ahead.

The second half was a story of frustration. Grenoble continued to push, showing a spirit, but the ball simply wouldn't go in. As the clock ticked down to the final whistle, the scoreboard told a harsh story: Grenoble 0-1 Saint-Étienne.

Julien sat in silence as the "Les Verts" fans celebrated their climb to 3rd place. He looked down at the pitch, his mind racing through the tactical adjustments he would have made to fix that toothless attack. He knew this squad had potential, but they were lacking the clinical edge that separates survival from success.

As the crowd began to filter out of the Stade des Alpes, Julien checked his phone for the other results of the night. It was a bittersweet update from Corsica: SC Bastia had secured a crucial 2-0 victory over Boulogne.

With those three points, Bastia had momentarily clawed their way out of the relegation zone, a result that surely eased the immediate pressure on their coaching staff. For Julien, it was another door that seemed to be closing, at least for the time being.

He looked back at the pitch where the Grenoble players were trudging toward the dressing room, heads bowed. While Bastia had found a way to survive the weekend, his home club was sinking deeper into the mire. The contrast was sharp—one of his former teams was celebrating, while the other was suffocating under the weight of missed opportunities. The night air in Grenoble felt colder than when they had arrived.

Back at the hotel, the kids were finally asleep, but Julien’s mind was far from resting. He sat by the window, the distant lights of the Stade des Alpes still glowing, and pulled up the latest European managerial movements. Two specific vacancies caught his eye.

In Germany, Hamburger SV had just parted ways with their coach, sitting rock bottom of the Bundesliga. It was a massive club, a sleeping giant in desperate need of a tactical overhaul. Closer to home, Toulouse FC was sitting 2nd to bottom in Ligue 1, their top-flight status hanging by a thread.

Julien stared at the screen, a quiet hope flickering in his chest. These were the "big leagues" Pierre had joked about just a few days ago. He knew, realistically, it might be too early for a man who had never officially held a head coaching role to jump straight into a relegation scrap in the German or French top flight. Yet, his years as a high-level assistant had prepared him for exactly these kinds of high-pressure environments.

He didn't mention them to Laura just yet; they felt like secret dreams, perhaps a step too far for a first job. But as he closed his laptop, he couldn't help but wonder if his reputation in the scouting and coaching circles was enough to make either board take a gamble on a "fresh" tactical mind.

The silence of the hotel room was suddenly broken by a sharp, rhythmic vibration. Julien looked down at his phone on the nightstand. It wasn't his agent this time.

It was a local Grenoble number.

"What the hell, already?" Julien muttered to himself, his heart hammering against his ribs. The timing felt too perfect—could that 1-0 defeat to Saint-Étienne have been the final straw for the Grenoble board? Was Marama Vahirua already out, and was the club reaching out to their former captain before the stadium lights had even cooled?

He swiped the screen with trembling fingers, his voice tight as he answered. "Hello?" But it wasn't the President. It wasn't an official call to the club offices.

"Julien! It’s Nico," a familiar voice on the other end. It was Nicolas, an old teammate from their playing days who was now coaching in the GF38 youth academy. "Word travels fast in this city, man. Someone spotted you in the stands tonight. I figured if the legendary captain is back in town, the least I can do is buy him a drink. You free tomorrow night? We’ve got a lot to catch up on."

It was just a social call—a ghost from his past reaching out for a beer.

"Nico! You scared the life out of me," Julien laughed, leaning back against the headboard. "Yeah, I'm in town with the family. Tomorrow night works. I’d love to hear how things are really going behind the scenes."

As he hung up, he caught Laura watching him from the doorway She didn't need to ask who it was; she had seen the "managerial look" in his eyes fade back into the "old friend" expression.

"Not the call you were expecting?" she asked softly.

"Not yet," Julien replied, setting the phone down. "But in this city, everyone is watching. Let’s see what Nico has to say tomorrow. Sometimes the best intel comes from the guys on the training grounds, not the ones in the suits."

He closed his eyes, but the images of the Hamburg and Toulouse league tables still danced behind his eyelids. The weekend wasn't over yet.

(To be honest with you guys, I know Julien's backstory is so strong, I think if he'd apply for any of these two, they would both offer him an interview at least. But he won't… Still we're both hoping for a surprise call)

At this moment I've hit continue and a few days have passed. See you on:

March 17th, 2026

The meeting with Nico had been exactly what Julien needed—a chance to step away from the football news and simply enjoy the company of an old friend. However, their conversation was sobering. From Nico, Julien gathered that the atmosphere at the Stade des Alpes remained settled; the board’s confidence in Vahirua was currently unshakable. For now, the door to Grenoble, a place that held so many memories and a sense of safety for the family, was shut.

By Sunday, the Gauthier family had packed their bags and made the trek back to Le Havre. The beginning of the following week was really quiet.. However, that silence was shattered on the morning of the 17th by a phone call originating from a Corsican area code.

It was Claude Ferrandi, the President of SC Bastia.

The conversation lasted barely thirty minutes, but the intent was clear. Ferrandi wanted an interview. The President’s tone suggested urgency; the club was flirting with the relegation zone, and they were looking for a character capable of galvanizing a fractured dressing room. When Laura returned home after finishing her morning errands, she found Julien practically glowing with the news.

"Laura, it was Bastia! Ferrandi, their president called me for an interview," Julien told her, unable to hide his excitement.

The reaction, however, was not the one he had hoped for. Laura stopped mid-sentence, her expression cooling instantly. Of the three potential paths they had discussed previously, this was the one she favored the least.

"Bastia, Julien? Really?" she asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. "It might still be France on paper, but you know as well as I do it feels like another world. Coming back from Switzerland or even Northern Italy would be simple. But from the island? It’s a logistical nightmare for us."

Julien stepped closer, trying to soften her stance with reality. "But Laura, we have to be realistic. I talked to Nico on Saturday. He made it clear. Vahirua has the full backing of the board there. That door is closed for now."

He paused, searching for a spark of interest in her eyes. "Look at the project. The shores of Corsica are beautiful, and the fans are some of the most passionate in the country. It would be a massive challenge to keep this team up, exactly the kind of test I need right now. It's a real job, Laura."

Laura simply looked at him, a silence falling between them that felt heavier than any tactical debate. She turned away to continue her tasks, leaving the words hanging in the air.

No other interesting benches had opened up over the last weekend, leaving Julien with few alternatives. He held no grudge against Laura—he truly understood her anxieties about the isolation of the island—but he kept his own counsel. Secretly, he was still hoping for a call from Toulouse or Hamburg, though he hadn't dared to mention his interest in these positions to anyone since. Despite the domestic tension, Ferrandi had left a positive impression on him; the President seemed like a sympathetic figure, and they had found common ground on the idea of seeking a parent club to help achieve Bastia’s long-term goals. For Julien, the spark of ambition was already beginning to outweigh the logistical fears.

The wait had officially begun.

At this moment I've hit continue and a few days have passed. See you on:

March 20th, 2026

By the evening of Thursday, the air in the house felt thick with unspoken calculations. The past few days had been a whirlwind of long, often circular conversations. Julien couldn’t deny it—if he followed his heart and logic, the familiar comfort of Grenoble or the prestige of St. Gallen sat much higher on his list than a survival scrap in Corsica. And then there was still that hope of a french/german top-flight opportunity, a shadow he hadn’t quite let go of.

He and Laura had finally reached a fragile truce: even if the Bastia offer moved forward, they would stall. They would wait until the very last possible moment, hoping for a sign from elsewhere.

That sign arrived on Thursday evening from Julien's agent. Matthias Hüppi, the President of St. Gallen, had officially reached out to offer an interview. The news changed the atmosphere in the Gauthier household instantly. This wasn't just another escape route; it was a genuine step up. St. Gallen wasn't just a stable club; they were currently fighting for European qualification, almost certain to finish in the top half of the Swiss Super League.

The appeal was immediate. Beyond the professional challenge, the geography itself spoke to Julien’s soul. Nestled near the Swiss Alps, the city’s scale and stunning mountain backdrop felt hauntingly similar to Grenoble. It offered the elite infrastructure and first-rate conditions that Julien craved, but with a sense of "home" that Bastia simply couldn't provide.

By Friday morning, Julien was already on the move. There was no time for hesitation. He caught an early flight, his mind racing through tactical setups and squad depth charts. When he landed, the transition was seamless—a hallmark of Swiss precision. A driver sent by the club was already waiting for him at the arrivals terminal, holding a discreet sign.

As the car glided through the pristine landscape toward the meeting, Julien looked out at the peaks. The efficiency of the arrangements, the professional silence of the driver, and the sheer quality of the facilities they passed on the way to the stadium made a deep impression. This was a club that operated at a high level. By the time they pulled up to the club's headquarters where Matthias Hüppi was waiting, Julien felt a surge of genuine conviction.

The interview with Matthias Hüppi surpassed all of Julien’s expectations. It wasn't just the professional prestige; it was the depth of the conversation. Unlike the hurried, ten-minute phone calls with relegation-threatened Ligue 2 side Bastia, this was an elite-level summit. They spoke for hours about footballing philosophy, youth development, and the club’s European ambitions. Julien found the President to be a man of immense character—someone who didn't just want a coach, but a partner in a long-term project.

After the formal discussion, Julien was given a tour of the stadium and the training ground. The infrastructure was impeccable; every blade of grass seemed to be in its perfect place, reflecting the Swiss commitment to excellence. Following a quiet, professional lunch where they finalized the technical details of the vision, the same driver was waiting to bring him back to the airport. The seamlessness of the day made the Bastia option feel like a distant, fading memory.

By the time Julien finally stepped through his front door in Le Havre, the house was silent. The children were already asleep. Laura was still awake, waiting for him in the soft glow of the kitchen light. They had already exchanged a dozen messages throughout the afternoon, but seeing each other in person brought a different kind of gravity to the situation.

Julien dropped his bag, the fatigue of the travel and the emotional weight of the interview finally catching up to him. He looked at Laura, seeing the mixture of hope and exhaustion in her eyes.

"The facilities, Laura... it's exactly what we talked about,"

"I know," she whispered back. "But you're exhausted. Let’s not decide everything tonight."

"Tomorrow. We’ll continue tomorrow," Julien agreed. They headed upstairs in silence.

At this moment I've hit continue and one day has passed. See you on:

March 21st, 2026

Saturday, March 21st, began with a different kind of mission. By 8:30 AM, the Gauthier household was prepared for a family day out. The plan was simple: a one-hour drive to the Cerza Zoo near Lisieux to give the children some much-needed distraction from the recent tension. By 9:00 AM, everyone was buckled into the silver-grey Peugeot 5008, and Julien was just pulling out of the driveway when his phone rang.

He recognized the number instantly. It was Claude Ferrandi, the President of SC Bastia.

Julien felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He pulled the Peugeot into a small parking pocket a few hundred meters from the house, excused himself to a curious-looking Laura, and stepped out into the crisp morning air. He took a breath and returned the call.

The offer was formal and direct: a two-year contract worth £2.6K per week to take over the managerial reins at the Stade Armand-Cesari. Ferrandi was convincing; he spoke of Julien as the "ideal person" to replace Réginald Ray and lead the club's fight for survival. He laid out the vision—a £775,000 transfer budget and a weekly wage structure of £55K. The primary objective was clear and daunting: avoid relegation from Ligue 2 BKT at all costs.

Julien listened intently, his eyes fixed on the horizon. He thanked the President politely for the immense trust, but he didn't say yes. Instead, he asked for a week to consider the proposal, citing the need to discuss such a significant move with his family.

When Julien climbed back into the car, the silence was heavy, broken only by the hum of the Peugeot’s engine. He looked at Laura, then turned slightly toward the back seat to share the news. He was careful with his words—he knew the weight this carried. He explained that Bastia had officially offered him the job.

The reaction from the back seat was instantaneous and divided.

"But Dad, that’s amazing!" Louis beamed, his eyes widening with excitement. "Corsica is beautiful! And the weather there is great, not like this grey rain in Le Havre. Imagine the beaches!" To a young boy, the move sounded like a permanent summer vacation.

Camille, however, looked as though she had been struck. Her expression shifted from curiosity to cold realization in a heartbeat. "You can’t do this!" she protested, her voice trembling slightly. "What about my life here? What about my friends? You’re going to take me away from everything just for a football club?"

"Everyone, calm down," Julien intervened, his voice firm but gentle as he pulled back onto the road. "I haven't accepted anything. It’s just an offer, and we have a lot to think about before any decisions are made."

To shift the mood, Julien began to recount his experiences from the previous day in St. Gallen. He described the sheer professionalism of the Swiss—how they had welcomed him, the pristine state of the facilities, and the overall sense of order. He was honest with them: Grenoble remained a dream, and St. Gallen felt like a significant step up. If another opportunity arose in the next week or two, he admitted, they would almost certainly choose it over the uncertainty of Corsica.

"Switzerland? That’s even better!" Louis said with excitement. "But... do they even speak French there?" He paused for a second, then dismissed his own concern with a shrug. "It doesn't matter! We'll be skiing all the time anyway!"

Camille, however, wasn't so easily swayed by the prospect of snow. "If we have to move, I’d rather have Corsica," she countered, crossing her arms. "At least there’s a sea there!"

The debate between the slopes and the shore continued for nearly half the journey, a ping-pong match of childhood preferences. Throughout it all, Laura remained silent, but a small, knowing smile played on her lips as she watched the Normandy landscape roll by. Eventually, the talk of football and geography faded, replaced by the mounting anticipation of the zoo. The children began to argue over which animals to visit first, their worries about the future temporarily eclipsed by the promise of lions and giraffes.

As the Peugeot cruised toward Cerza, the tension in the car finally began to lift. For a few hours at least, Julien could just be a father, even if the weight of two very different futures was still riding in the passenger seat.

As they pulled into the parking lot, the children were already pressed against the windows, scanning the horizon for the first signs of wildlife. Julien cut the engine, but for a moment, his hands remained gripped tightly around the steering wheel.

They stepped out. The crisp Normandy wind immediately bit through their coats, but the children's energy was infectious. Louis was already tugging at Camille’s sleeve, pulling her toward the entrance, and Camille, forgetting her earlier protest, began to laugh as she tried to keep pace with him. Julien waited for Laura.

After all, football is just one of many factors when someone has multiple options, Julien thought as he walked, holding Laura's hand and watching the children run toward the ticket office. In that fleeting moment, 4-3-3 formations, high-press triggers, and Corsican relegation battles felt entirely irrelevant. He wasn't a manager under pressure; he was just a father wanting to see the look on his children's faces when they saw the polar bears for the first time.

The rest of the day passed in a strange duality. The vast, open spaces of Cerza and the sight of the wild animals were meant to bring peace, but Julien’s mind refused to settle. Watching a lone wolf pacing its enclosure, he couldn't help but think of Bastia: the fight for survival, the feeling of being trapped on a sinking ship. Yet, when they sat for coffee in the modern visitor center, the pristine professionalism of St. Gallen flashed through his mind.

By late afternoon, the family was exhausted. On the drive home, Louis "pretended" to fall asleep within the first ten miles, while Camille stared out the window with her headphones on, lost in her own world.

That evening, once the house had grown quiet and the children were upstairs, Julien and Laura remained in the kitchen. He sat at the table with a glass of red wine and his notebook, where he had scribbled the details of the Bastia offer: £2.6K per week, £775K transfer budget. On paper, it was respectable.

"It’s not about the money, is it?" Laura asked softly, watching him from across the table.

Julien sighed, leaning back. "No. It’s about the direction. Bastia is a firefighting job. If I save them, I’m a hero. If we go down, my career stalls before it truly begins. Switzerland... that’s building something. Stability."

"And Grenoble?" Laura’s voice was gentle, but the question hung heavy in the air.

"Grenoble is home," Julien replied, his gaze drifting to the dark reflection in the window. "But home sometimes feels too far away."

Before Laura could respond, Julien’s phone buzzed on the table. It wasn't a call, but a notification. An email had arrived, and the sender wasn't from Corsica or Switzerland. Julien felt his pulse quicken. Another piece had moved on the chessboard, and the weekend’s fragile peace vanished in an instant.

"What is it?" Laura asked, noticing the shift in his expression.

Julien looked up, his voice steady but low. "It looks like there’s a fourth path."

At this moment I've hit continue and one day has passed. See you on:

March 22nd, 2026

The vibration of the phone was a direct line from Julien’s agent, Paul. He was speaking on another line  with Toulouse’s Sporting Director. They wanted Julien, and they wanted him now. After a two-minute whispered conversation with Laura, Julien texted back a single word: "Okay."

Efficiency took over. Within ten minutes, his inbox pinged with a boarding pass for the morning flight from Paris to Toulouse and a reservation for a hotel stay, including a return ticket for Monday morning. The machine of a top-flight club was already in motion.

On Sunday morning, Julien found himself sitting across from Viktor Bezhani (Director of Football) and Olivier Cloarec (Chairperson). The situation was bleak: Toulouse had failed to score a single goal in their three matches in March, picking up zero points and languishing in 17th place with only eight games left to play. The mission was clear: stop the rot, find a goal, and stay in Ligue 1.

After the discussions, they toured the stadium. The Stadium de Toulouse was nearly a century old, a concrete giant last rejuvenated for Euro 2016. Its history felt heavy in the humid air.

They had a late lunch where the stakes were raised even higher. Gerry Cardinale, representing RedBird Capital—the same powerhouse that owns AC Milan—joined them. The conversation shifted to global branding and ROI. While the project was undeniably massive, Julien felt a disconnect. Cardinale was a titan of industry, but to him, the club felt more like an asset on a balance sheet than a living, breathing community.

The late lunch wasn't the end of the day. Instead, it bled directly into the matchday tension. At 5:15 PM, Julien found himself in the director's box, sitting alongside Viktor Bezhani and the RedBird representatives to watch a desperate struggle: Toulouse FC vs. FC Lorient, the bottom-placed side in Ligue 1.

The atmosphere in the Stadium de Toulouse was electric but fragile. When the home side took the lead in only the 4th minute, the roar of the crowd felt like a rebirth. For a moment, the crisis seemed manageable. But the hope was short-lived. Early in the second half, Lorient clawed back an equalizer, and the air seemed to vanish from the stadium.

As the final whistle blew on a -1-1 draw—a result that felt like a crushing defeat—the silence was deafening. 24,000 fans left the stadium in the cooling evening air, heads bowed in resignation. Julien watched them from above, feeling the tangible weight of their despair. This wasn't just a club; it was a community on the brink of a breakdown.

After the suit-and-tie formalities ended, Julien finally stepped away. He needed to clear his head. He walked along the Garonne river as the "Pink City" began to glow under the twilight. The terracotta bricks were beautiful, but the tension of the match still hummed in his veins.

He pulled out his phone and called Laura.

"I just watched them play, Laura," he said, his voice low. "They took the lead early, but they couldn't hold it. 24,000 people went home in total silence. It’s heavy here. The project is massive, the stadium is historic, but... Cardinale and the owners? I didn't find them sympathetic. It’s all spreadsheets and metrics to them, while the fans are grieving on the streets."

He paused, looking at his reflection in the dark water. It’s a different world from St. Gallen.

When he got back to the hotel, Julien didn't even turn on the TV. He fell into a deep sleep by 9:00 PM, knowing that the 7:00 AM flight back to Paris would bring him one step closer to a decision he still wasn't ready to make.

At this moment I've hit continue and one day has passed. See you on:

March 23rd, 2026

The wheels of the plane touched the tarmac at Paris-Charles de Gaulle with a heavy thud, mirroring the weight in Julien’s chest. As it rolled toward the gate, he switched his phone off airplane mode. It buzzed almost instantly, but the name on the screen wasn't Paul, his brother-in-law and agent.

It was Antonin Girardet. The President of Grenoble Foot 38.

Julien took a deep breath before answering. He didn’t need a boarding pass or a fancy hotel for this one. He knew the stadium, the training ground, and the man on the other end of the line far too well. The "interview" happened right there, as Julien walked through the terminal, dodging travelers with their rolling suitcases. It was less of a corporate interrogation and more of a tactical conversation between old acquaintances. Girardet was direct: the club needed someone who understood the soul of the Isère region.

"You know where we are, Julien," Girardet said. "We can’t offer you the world, but we can offer you home."

After hanging up, Julien found his silver-grey Peugeot in the airport parking lot. The almost three-hour drive back to Le Havre gave him the solitude he desperately needed. As the French motorway stretched out before him, his mind drifted south, past Lyon where his sister Léa lived, to the jagged peaks of the Chartreuse Mountains. He could almost see the stone walls of his in-laws' house in Saint-Pierre-de-Chartreuse, where Jean-Pierre and Monique  would be waiting with a bottle of Mondeuse and a million questions about when the kids were coming to visit.

When he finally pulled into his driveway in Le Havre, the tension of the "Pink City" and the cold metrics of Gerry Cardinale felt a lifetime away. He walked through the front door and found Laura in the kitchen.

"Girardet has just called me" he said, skipping the pleasantries as he dropped his keys on the counter. "Grenoble is officially on the table."

He spent the next hour recounting the whirlwind of the last 24 hours. He described the sheer scale of Toulouse—the 33,000-seat stadium, the 4th-minute goal that led to nothing but a haunting silence from 24,000 disappointed souls. He told her about the lunch with the RedBird executives, the talk of data and global brands, and how he felt in that world of spreadsheets.

"Toulouse is a giant, Laura. It's a machine," Julien admitted, leaning back against the table. "But Girardet... that felt like a conversation. It felt like Saint-Pierre-de-Chartreuse on a Sunday afternoon. The problem is, the machine has the money. Grenoble has the heart, but they're asking us to build a cathedral with pebbles."

Laura listened, her eyes moving between her husband and the family calendar on the fridge. The clock was ticking. The options were all there now: the Swiss Alps, the Corsican coast, the "Pink City" of the south, or the familiar shadows of the Isère mountains.

The house was quiet, the children finally distracted by their homework upstairs. On the oak table, Julien had laid out four folders. It was time to rank their options.

"We need to be honest, Laura," Julien said, circling the logo of SC Bastia with a red pen. "They were the first to show faith. A two-year deal, £2.6K a week. But look at the table—13th place, only two points above Rodez and the drop zone. It’s a volcano waiting to erupt. If we move the kids to Corsica and the club goes down in two months, what then?"

Laura nodded, her finger tracing the edge of her cup. "Bastia is the safety net, but it's a frayed one. It’s our last resort. Let’s put them at the bottom of the list. What about the others?"

The 2nd and the 3rd place on their list were Toulouse and Grenoble. It was a close call between the two.

"We can't just leave it at a tie, Julien," Laura said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she glanced toward the stairs. "Between the South and the Isère mountains... we have to choose a direction."

The map of France felt like a battlefield tonight. On one side, the Pink City—Toulouse. A massive club, Ligue 1 prestige, and the financial might of RedBird Capital. On the other, Grenoble Foot 38—the home, the shadows of the Chartreuse, and the familiar voice of Antonin Girardet.

"Toulouse is a career-defining move," Julien admitted, looking at his notes from the lunch with Gerry Cardinale. "If I save them, I’m a top-flight manager for life. But I didn't feel anything there, Laura. It felt like a corporate boardroom. I’m a data point to them, an asset to be managed. And that 1-1 draw against Lorient... the despair in the stands was suffocating."

"And Grenoble?" Laura asked softly.

"Grenoble is the opposite. It’s heart. It’s knowing that Jean-Pierre and Monique are just a short drive away in Saint-Pierre-de-Chartreuse. It’s the club that built me. But we have to be realistic—their resources are a fraction of the others. £72K versus £230K at Toulouse. It’s a mountain to climb with a heavy pack on my back."

They sat in silence for a moment, the ranking hovering between the two.

"If we choose Toulouse, we choose the machine," Laura summarized. “If we choose Grenoble, we choose the family.”

"And then there’s St. Gallen," he said

"Where you aren’t just a data point in a machine, but you aren't building a cathedral with pebbles either."

Julien nodded. This was the intersection where logic finally met ambition. "Look at the numbers, Laura. Financially, St. Gallen is on par with Toulouse. The budget, the wages, the infrastructure... the resources are almost identical to those of the 'Pink City' giant. But there is a massive difference that we can’t ignore."

He stood up and walked to the kitchen window, where the lights of Le Havre shimmered against the glass.

"In France, this money is about survival. In Toulouse, with that same budget, I’d be fighting just to keep our heads above water, to avoid the shame of the drop. In Switzerland, however... in Switzerland, those same resources mean the top. We wouldn't be dancing on the edge of a cliff there. We’d be fighting for the European stage, for the Conference League, maybe even more. In France, I’d be a part in a machine; in Switzerland, I could be the master of the clubs fate."

The silence changed. It was no longer the silence of uncertainty, but of realization. Bastia was a risky past, Grenoble a soulful but heavy legacy, and Toulouse a soulless engine. St. Gallen, however, was the opportunity: the rare crossover of professional ascent and family stability.

"This is it, isn't it?" Laura asked, watching Julien’s expression. "This is what we’re waiting for."

"Yes," Julien replied firmly. "The challenge is there, the backing is stable, and the goals aren't about fear—they’re about dreams."

He sat back down at the table, pushed the other folders aside, and left only the green one in front of him. He was no longer looking at the map, but at his phone lying on the oak surface. The decision had been made in their minds, but the final word wasn't theirs to say.

"Now, only one thing is missing," Julien said, his eyes fixed on the screen. "A call from Matthias Hüppi. If the President of St. Gallen dials, there are no more questions. We go."

The phone remained silent for the rest of the night, but the ranking was finally clear. At the top of the list sat the shores of Lake Constance.

At this moment I've hit continue and a couple of days have passed. See you on:

March 25th, 2026

Wednesday morning had barely begun when Julien’s phone shattered the silence. On the other end was Paul—his agent, his brother-in-law, and currently, his loudest critic. Matthias Hüppi, the President of FC St. Gallen, had finally placed a formal offer on the table. They wanted Julien to lead the charge at the Kybunpark, stepping into the void left by Enrico Maassen.

But Paul wasn't celebrating; he was calculating.

"Julien, you’re letting your heart lead where your head should be!" Paul’s voice crackled through the speaker. "£1,800 a week? It’s a pittance compared to the storm brewing in France. Toulouse is circling; they’ll double that without blinking. Even the Bastia offer had more meat on the bone. For God’s sake, at least let me stall them. Let me squeeze Hüppi for a better deal!"

Paul saw the modest salary, but Julien saw the foundation. He saw a £2.9 million transfer budget and a £210k weekly wage bill—resources that whispered of stability and ambition. In Switzerland, he wouldn't just be surviving; he would be building.

"It’s not about the paycheck, Paul," Julien shot back. "It’s about the project. St. Gallen isn't just a job; it’s a springboard. They have the infrastructure to support 'entertaining football,' and the board's vision for a top-half finish is exactly the challenge I need. If I go to Toulouse and we go down, I’m done. If I build a legacy in the Super League, I’m made."

The silence on the other end was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension of family loyalty versus professional pragmatism. It was a tactical battle of 'what-ifs,' a marathon of debate that tested Julien's resolve. Paul saw a missed commission; Julien saw his future.

"This is my career, Paul. My name on the backpages," Julien finally said, cutting through his agent's next argument. ". This is the right move for the long haul."

A long, resigned sigh finally came from the other end. "You’re a stubborn bastard, Julien. But you’re the one who has to stand on the touchline."

Julien set the phone down and headed toward the kitchen, the echoes of the heated argument with Paul still ringing in his ears. He needed the ritual of the morning to settle his nerves. He was just pouring some coffee into two cups when the sound of a key turning in the lock signaled Laura’s return.

She stepped into the hallway, catching the scent of the coffee. Her expression was that of someone who had already heard one side of the story and was ready for the other.

"My brother just called me," she said softly. "I hear you two were at each other's throats."

"There wasn't much to argue about, really. Paul sees life as a series of spreadsheets. I see a career, a project, a future."

Laura took a sip "He’s obsessed with the financial gap, as usual. But we’ve already settled this between us, haven't we? We’ve always said it’s not about the immediate paycheck. We have enough to be comfortable regardless of the figures on that contract."

"Exactly," Julien nodded, feeling the last of the morning’s frustration finally begin to lift. "I told him the same. This isn't a desperate grab for a high salary; it’s about finding the right soil to plant roots in. St. Gallen offers a foundation, a chance to build something that lasts. I think this move defines the next decade, not just the next year."

Laura stepped closer. "You made the right choice, Julien. You always do when you trust your instincts over his calculations. If Switzerland is where you feel you can truly leave your mark, then that is exactly where we are going."

With his wife’s support, all doubts vanished. The Kybunpark was no longer just a stadium on a map; it was the destination for the next chapter of the Gauthier family.

Julien and Laura shared a meaningful glance. The heavy conversation with Paul was over, but the most difficult negotiation of the day was only just beginning as the kids came home from school.

"We have news," Julien began. "I’ve made a decision. We’re heading to Switzerland. I’m going to be the new manager of FC St. Gallen."

The reaction was instantaneous and split. Louis let out a triumphant shout, his young mind already racing with thoughts of new stadiums and Swiss chocolates. But for Camille, it was as if a curtain had fallen. As they had feared, St. Gallen was at the very bottom of her list—a cold, distant place far from the life she had.

Julien reached out, trying to soften the blow. "Camille, listen to me. It’s not happening all at once. I’ll be going ahead first, staying in a hotel while I get things started. You’re not losing your world overnight."

"And you’ll finish the school year here," Laura added quickly. "Nothing changes for now. We’ll spend a couple of weeks with your grandparents near Grenoble once June hits, and then we’ll have a proper summer holiday together."

Julien nodded, trying to paint a picture of the future that didn't feel like an exile. "By the time the second half of summer rolls around, I’ll have found us a beautiful house, hopefully right on the shores of Lake Constance. You’ll have plenty of time to say your goodbyes, Camille. We aren't rushing you away."

Camille didn't argue, but the silence she maintained was louder than any shout. She looked toward the window, perhaps already imagining the grey waters of a Swiss lake compared to the sun-drenched streets she called home. Julien knew the "project" at St. Gallen was about to begin on the pitch, but the project of keeping his family whole was going to be an even greater challenge.

Now, if Julien were to accept the offer immediately, there would be a press conference at the Kybunpark in thirty minutes—but since Julien is currently in Le Havre, that wouldn’t be realistic. To keep the story moving forward naturally, I’m selecting the "DELAY FOR ONE WEEK" option. This gives Julien enough time to travel to St. Gallen and say a proper goodbye to his family. Let’s assume Julien has accepted the offer, and they’ve agreed that he will travel on Monday to start his new job on Wednesday, April 1st. During this week, I won’t respond to any other job openings or offers; we will proceed as if the new manager has already been officially announced. The timing is also perfect, as the team’s next match isn’t until April 4th against FC Zürich.

Furthermore, I plan to continue the story in real-time, but we’ll pick up the pace over the next few days. Since the Easter break is approaching and I’ll be away for a bit, by April 1st we’ll have progressed in the game to April 8th. This will allow us to catch up and continue exactly as we started.

At this moment I've hit continue and a few days have passed. See you on (tomorrow):

March 30th, 2026

The journey from Le Havre to the Chartreuse Mountains had been long, but the interior of the car felt peaceful. Since Camille and Louis were both excelling in their studies, their teachers had granted them a few days of leave to prepare for the family’s transition.

As they pulled up to the stone house of the Morel family, Monique (Julien's mother-in-law) was already at the door, her arms open wide for her grandchildren. Jean-Pierre stood just behind her, his face was a complex map of pride stubbornness.

The atmosphere was unexpectedly light, thanks in no small part to the absence of Paul who had called at the last minute, citing an "urgent negotiation" in Paris that made it impossible for him to make the trip.

"Classic Paul," Jean-Pierre muttered as they settled into the living room. "Always chasing a commission instead of a conversation."

While Jean-Pierre spent the afternoon grumbling about his son’s big-city priorities, it actually played into Julien’s hands. The retired teacher’s frustration with Paul acted drew the attention away from the old friction between him and Julien. Plus, the arrival of Léa from Lyon further softened the mood. Jean-Pierre had always had a soft spot for Julien’s sister, and her stories about the art gallery in Lyon provided a welcome distraction from football politics.

On Friday evening, the family gathered at a small, rustic restaurant tucked into the mountainside. The table was full of local cheeses, crusty bread, and a bottle of deep red Mondeuse. As the main course was cleared, Julien caught Laura’s eye. She gave him a small, encouraging nod.

Julien tapped his glass lightly, and the table fell silent.

"We wanted to gather everyone tonight because things are about to move very quickly," Julien began, his voice steady. "As of Monday, I’ll be heading to Switzerland. I’ve accepted the position as the manager of FC St. Gallen."

He was waiting for Jean-Pierre’s reaction—expecting a comment about bringing the kids abroad. But the old man was distracted; he had Camille on one side and Louis on the other. He looked at Julien, then at his daughter Laura, and finally at the grandchildren who were clearly the center of his world.

"St. Gallen," Jean-Pierre repeated, weighing the words. "A historic club. Far from Grenoble, yes... but at least it’s not Paris." He managed a smile. "If you’re going to be a manager, Julien, you might as well do it in a place where they still value discipline and hard work."

Monique reached across the table to squeeze Julien’s hand. "We are so proud of you, Julien. And don't worry about these three," she gestured to Laura and the kids. "We’ll make sure they are well-prepared before they join you in the summer."

The weight on Julien’s shoulders felt manageable. The "project" had the blessing of the family. Camille still looked skeptical, her eyes fixed on her dessert, but even she seemed comforted by the presence of her aunt Léa and the warmth of her grandparents.

The night ended with a toast to new beginnings. Julien knew that in forty-eight hours, he would be driving toward the Kybunpark, leaving the comfort of the Chartreuse behind. 

Aftre saying their goodbyes Monday morning the Gauthier's headed to the Lyon airport. They have reached a crossroads—literally and figuratively.

Laura, Camille, and Louis were bound for Paris, where they would catch the connection back to Le Havre to finish the school term. Julien, however, was looking toward Gate 14: the flight to Zurich.

The farewell at the security gate was quieter than Julien had expected, but far more profound. He hug Louis, who was already asking if they could get Swiss jerseys soon, but it was Camille who surprised him. She stepped forward, her usual teenage defiance replaced by a sudden, fragile maturity.

"Everything is going to be okay, Papa," she whispered. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, but her voice didn't waver.

Julien and Laura locked eyes over their daughter’s head, sharing a silent, relieved smile. The ice had finally broken. Camille wasn't just accepting the move; she was giving him her blessing.

"I’ll see you in a week,"  Julien promised, pulling them all into one last huddle. "Easter and the spring break are just around the corner. We’ll be together before you know it."

With a final wave, they split up. As Julien boarded his flight. After landing, a driver from the club was already waiting at the arrivals terminal, holding a discreet sign with the FC St. Gallen crest. 

Barely over an hour later, Julien was standing in his hotel room in (which was a 5 minute walk from the Stadium). On the desk sat a hand-written note.

"Welcome to your new home, Julien. The Kybunpark is waiting for its new architect. Let’s build something great together. — Matthias Hüppi" Hüppi also invited Julien for a dinner on Tuesday night to discuss the plans for the first few days.

As Julien looked out the window, the reality finally sank in. The suitcases were packed, the goodbyes were said, and the contract was signed. The Gauthier era in Switzerland had officially begun.

At this moment I've hit continue and a couple of days have passed. See you on (tonight):

April 1st, 2026

Tuesday morning, Julien was awake before his alarm. After a quiet breakfast in the hotel dining room, his first act of the day was a video call to Laura. They spoke for a few minutes—about the kids’ first day back at school and the quiet house in Le Havre—a brief bridge between his old world and his new reality.

With the rest of the day to himself before the official meetings began, Julien decided to explore the city he would soon call home. He walked the cobblestone streets of the Old Town. He found himself at the St. Gallen Cathedral.

A short walk later, he reached the Roter Platz—the famous "Red Square." Standing in the middle of the vibrant, carpet-like public space, surrounded by modern architecture and the hum of Swiss daily life. This was a city that blended the ancient with the avant-garde, much like the "entertaining football" he hoped to bring to the Kybunpark.

By 2:00 PM, he headed back to the hotel to trade his walking shoes for a sharp suit. The tourist phase was over; the professional one was about to begin.

At 4:00 PM, Julien arrived at a quiet, upscale restaurant on the outskirts of the city. Waiting for him were Matthias Hüppi and Roger Stilz, the Director of Football. The atmosphere was professional yet welcoming, the table set with sparkling water and thick folders of player data.

Over the couple of hours, the three men mapped out the days ahead. They discussed the morale of the squad following Maassen’s departure, and the logistics of the official unveiling. Stilz was sharp, his focus on the technical details complementing Hüppi’s broader vision for the club’s identity. They've also spoke about all the staff members that left with Maassen, and how badly they needed some people straight away.

As the meeting drew to a close, Julien felt a profound sense of alignment. They weren't just looking for a caretaker; they were looking for a leader.

Julien's mind was already drifting toward the training pitches. The walk, the cathedral, and the coffee were behind him. Tomorrow, April 1st, would be no joke—it was the day he finally took command.

“See you at the stadium tomorrow” said Hüppi as they left the restaurant.

At 10:00 AM sharp, Julien stepped into his new office for the first time. It was a minimalist, glass-walled space overlooking the training pitches, smelling faintly of expensive espresso and fresh floor wax. He had barely hung his coat when the club’s press officer hit 'send' on the announcement that had been simmering in the rumor mill for days.

The official club statement was professional.

“Gauthier takes St. Gallen hot seat,” the headlines blared within thirty minutes.

Julien spent a moment scrolling through the initial reactions. He wasn't surprised to see that his appointment had "raised eyebrows" across the league. To the Swiss pundits, he was a 45-year-old gamble—an "inexperienced" outsider stepping into a vacuum left by Enrico Maassen. The local press didn't hesitate to remind their readers that Marc Schneider had been the heavy favorite for the job, especially after he was spotted at the club for interviews.

Choosing Julien over a known Swiss manager like Schneider was a bold statement by Hüppi and Stilz. It was a clear signal that St. Gallen wanted a fresh philosophy. He was inheriting a team in 6th place, currently on a four-match unbeaten run. On the surface, the ship was steady, but the details told a different story: three draws in the last five games suggested a squad that had forgotten how to win. They were solid, but stagnant. Julien looked out at the empty training pitch where the players would gather in less than an hour. He knew the "hot seat" label wasn't just media hyperbole. He had a few short weeks until the end of the season to prove that he wasn't just a "different candidate," but the right one.

He spent countless hours in Le Havre analyzing match footage and spreadsheets of player data. He stood before the large tactical whiteboard in his office, a black marker in hand. He didn't need to meet the players to know their strengths—he had lived with their statistics for weeks. 

With a few decisive strokes, he sketched out his vision. On paper, it was a structured 4-3-3, providing the defensive stability the Swiss Super League demanded. But as he began to draw the arrows of movement, the system came alive. "Fluidity," Julien whispered to the empty room. Out of Possession, the team would maintain a disciplined, compact shape. A solid back four flanked by traditional full-backs, protected by a dedicated defensive midfielder holding the center. Two central midfielders would drop back to create a resilient block, making the Kybunpark a fortress that was impossible to play through.

But the real magic happened In Possession. As soon as the ball was won, the 4-3-3 would change into a  4-2-3-1. One of the central midfielders would push forward into the Shadow Striker role, ghosting into the space behind the Complete Forward. The wingers would stretch the pitch, while one of the full-backs transformed into a Wing-Back, providing an extra overlapping threat.

But Julien didn’t stop there. He knew that tactical flexibility was key. On the other side of the board, he immediately sketched out a "Plan B"—a system designed for facing stronger opponents or protecting a hard-earned lead in the closing stages of a match. In this more conservative 4-1-4-1 setup used Out of Possession, the team would drop into a disciplined, deep-lying block. The wingers would tuck into the midfield line, forming a compact line of four in front of the defensive anchor. This wall was designed to protect the center of the pitch. The moment they regained In Possession, the shape would snap into a dynamic 4-3-3. The wide midfielders would sprint forward to flank the lone striker, while the central trio provided the passing lanes and defensive cover necessary to dictate the tempo.

Julien looked at the two formations with satisfaction. One was the sword, the other the shield. Both systems relied on the same core principle: disciplined defensive foundations followed by ruthless, intelligent transitions.

"Now I just have to make them believe they can execute it."  He said.

A knock on the door broke Julien’s concentration. It was time for his first real test of leadership: meeting the dressing room's heavyweights. Lukas Görtler, the captain, and Lawrence Ati-Zigi, the vice captain stepped into the office. The atmosphere was surprisingly warm. Julien had done his homework; he knew Görtler was the heartbeat of the team, a "Resolute" leader with impeccable teamwork, and Ati-Zigi was the foundation at the back. They discussed the transition, and Julien made his stance clear from the start—he wasn't there to tear down what was already working. He confirmed them both in their roles, a move that clearly earned him their immediate respect. "I need you two to be my bridge to the rest of the squad," Julien said, handing them a copy of his new Code of Conduct. "Tell the boys: team meeting tomorrow at 10:00 AM, right before our first session on the grass. We start fresh."

The two leaders nodded, satisfied, and made their exit. But before the door could fully swing shut, a new presence filled the room.

Elena Mece, the club’s Head of Communications, took a single, commanding step inside. She was striking—dressed in a sharp black pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse that radiated professional authority. She didn't move further into the room, choosing instead to command the space from the threshold. "Press conference tomorrow at 3:00 PM," she said. She didn't wait for a reply, her eyes briefly scanning Julien with a look that was impossible to read. "Dress properly. Not like a tourist." And just like that, without a goodbye or a backward glance, she vanished down the hallway.

Julien also took a proper look at the books. He's just realised, the club is overspending on wages. “That's not what I was told” he thought, but he knew he didn't really need any transfer budget for now, so he immediately moved some resources towards the wages and he was hoping for a continental qualification, to help with the tranfer funds later.

He immediately realized that he was truly on his own; he had no assistant manager, and the faces remaining at the club were strangers to him.

 

His first instinct was to look within. He sought out Mario Gilli, the Head of Youth Development, hoping for a bridge between the academy and the first team. Julien asked if he’d be interested in stepping up as his right-hand man, but Gilli offered a polite, firm refusal. "My heart is with the kids, Julien. That's where I can serve St. Gallen best," he said. The rejection was respectful, but it left Julien standing in a vacuum.

He didn't waste a second. He began working through his contacts, calling coaches he had crossed paths with throughout his career. One by one, the answers came back the same. They were comfortable in their current roles, unwilling to take a leap of faith into a Swiss mission. .

Julien sighed, the blue light of his laptop screen reflecting in the glass walls of his office. The sun was setting over the Kybunpark, casting long shadows across the empty pitch. With no immediate allies to call upon, he opened the staff databases and began to scroll. He wasn't just looking for tactical minds anymore; he was looking for people brave enough to join a "gamble" in the middle of a season. The "hot seat" was getting hotter, and the first training session was only fourteen hours away.

His eyes scanned dozens of profiles, filtering for tactical alignment and experience, until one name finally made him pause: Fritz Schmid. As Julien clicked through the details, he started to smile in relief.

It was almost too perfect. Schmid’s preferred formations—the fluid 4-2-3-1 and the disciplined 4-3-3—mirrored the exact systems Julien had just sketched out on his whiteboard. But it wasn't just the tactical overlap that stood out. Schmid’s profile radiated the kind of well-rounded coaching pedigree the club desperately needed. His "People Management" was top-tier, a crucial asset for a good dressing room athmosphere, and his vast general coaching knowledge promised to fill the void left by Maassen's departing staff. Julien didn't hesitate. He picked up the phone again, the clock ticking closer to 20:00. He needed a partner who spoke his tactical language, and in Schmid, he may have just found the perfect second-in-command to help him weather the storm. The contract offer was sent, and Julien called it a day.

“Maybe I should have arrived a few days earlier,” Julien whispered to the empty room, the weight of the recruitment challenge and the financial reality finally settling on his shoulders. He closed his laptop and made his way back to the hotel through the quiet St. Gallen streets. After a light, solitary dinner in the corner of the dining room—hardly tasting the food—he headed to his room. Sleep came quickly, fueled by exhaustion and the looming shadow of the team meeting at 10:00AM and the press conference at 3:00PM.

At this moment I've hit continue and a day has passed. See you on (Saturday this week):

April 2nd, 2026

The next morning, Julien woke up early. After a quick shower, he grabbed a coffee-to-go from the hotel lobby and headed straight to work. It was only a five-minute walk to the stadium, and by 7:45 AM, he was already at his desk.

At 8:00 AM sharp, he met with Jan Breitenmoser, the Technical Director. Together, they reviewed the gaps in the backroom staff. Using the club’s database and Jan’s personal scouting notes, they discussed every possible option, identifying key candidates for each vacant position. The most prominent name on their list was Pascal Zuberbühler for the Goalkeeping Coach role, the legendary former Grasshoppers keeper with 51 caps for the Swiss national team. Julien studied Pascal’s profile on the screen. 

"Jan, if we can convince Zuberbühler to join, we’re not just hiring a coach; we’re bringing a Swiss icon into the building," Julien said, glancing at the "Free Agent" status on the screen. "His Continental Pro License and international experience would give our project immediate' credibility."

In about two hours, they had identified all the potential candidates. Now came the hard part: the recruitment. Julien was reaching out to Pascal Zuberbühler personally, while Breitenmoser took charge of contacting the other potential staff members.

At 10:00 AM, it was time for the first team meeting. Julien stepped into the briefing room, facing the squad and the remaining members of the backroom staff. It was a standard introduction; Julien kept it professional, sharing a few words about his background and his core philosophy: that persistent, hard work always yields results.

However, the response was far from electric. As he spoke, he looked around the room only to find rows of expressionless faces. Some players leaned back with crossed arms, while others stared blankly at the floor, looking bored and completely uninspired by the new arrival. The atmosphere was heavy with skepticism. Julien could feel the uphill battle ahead. It wasn't just about tactical drills or signing a legend like Zuberbühler; it was about winning over a dressing room that clearly wasn't used to—or perhaps didn't believe in—the vision he was trying to sell.

Immediately after training, a troubling thought raced through his mind. In just two days, a crucial match against Zürich awaited them. Mathematically, the team's spot in the top half of the table was far from secure, with Lugano trailing by only a single point and just two rounds remaining in the regular season. The stakes were really high due to the Swiss Super League’s "split" format. In this system, the 12 teams play each other three times (33 rounds) before the table divides. The top six enter the Championship Group to fight for the title and European spots, while the bottom six fall into the Relegation Group to battle against the drop. For Julien, failing to make the cut now would mean the competitive part of his season would be over. 

Based on Zürich’s recent form and the advantage of playing at home, they decided to approach the match with a more offensive formation: a 4-2-3-1. Julien believed that taking the initiative was the best way to make the players enjoy the game, and start to believe in him.

During the afternoon training session, the focus shifted to set-pieces. Julien and his staff drilled the squad on various free-kick routines and, perhaps more importantly, defending against corners. The atmosphere was still tense, but the tactical clarity seemed to give the players a sense of direction they had lacked. Regarding the set-pieces, Julien didn't introduce any innovations just yet (went with the “staff suggestion” option), Instead, he instructed the staff to stick with their established routines. He didn't want to overcomplicate things or create confusion right before such a high-stakes match, especially with a new set-piece coach expected to join the backroom staff soon.

For lunch, Julien stayed in his office, eating a pizza while studying footage of Zürich and St. Gallen. He sketched out potential starting lineups on a notepad, weighing his tactical options for the weekend.

Fifteen minutes before 3:00 PM, a sharp knock echoed through the room. Elena Meçe stood in the doorway, looking as stunning as ever.

"Press conference in ten minutes. We’re going" she said.

Julien quickly threw on the coat he had prepared earlier, smoothing out the fabric.

"At least you’re not in a tracksuit like the previous guy," Elena added with a subtle, approving nod as she turned to lead the way.

Julien followed her down the corridor, the rhythmic clicking of her high heels on the floor setting the pace. He felt a surge of adrenaline as they approached the press room; this would be his first official appearance before the media. As they reached the doors of the media suite, Elena paused and looked back at him.

"Ready, Julien? The room is packed. They’ve been waiting for a new face to grill."

True to his word, Julien handled the press conference with disciplined precision. He flatly refused to engage with questions about the club's finances, transfer budgets, or player salaries. Instead, he directed every answer back to the pitch, speaking passionately about the importance of hard work and his core footballing philosophy. "Not bad," Elena remarked with a brief, approving smile as the cameras turned off. "Not bad at all." With a quick nod, she was gone, leaving Julien to check his watch.

There was no time to change. Julien headed straight from the media suite to the training pitch, still wearing his tailored suit. As he stepped onto the grass, the rhythmic clicking of the press room was replaced by the sharp whistle of the wind and the thud of footballs. The sight of the new manager standing on the touchline in a suit, rather than a tracksuit, drew immediate glances from the squad. It projected an air of authority.

There was so much more he wanted to do, but these first 48 hours had utterly drained him. After the high-intensity session, Julien didn't even bother heading back to his office. He slowly walked back to the hotel. Once in his room, he made an emotional call home to his family, their voices providing a brief, much-needed anchor to his old life. For dinner, he treated himself to a traditional cheese fondue in the hotel restaurant, the rich, melted Gruyère and Emmental offering some comfort after these couple of days.

Back in his room, Julien sat on the edge of his bed with his laptop. He pulled up the footage from the previous home encounter against Zürich back in August—a 2-0 defeat. He watched it with clinical intensity, rewinding every lost duel and every tactical lapse. He could see exactly where the structure had crumbled, and as the glowing screen reflected in his tired eyes, he began to visualize how his 4-2-3-1 would plug those gaps.

At this moment I've hit continue and a day has passed. See you on (tomorrow):

April 3rd, 2026

In football, holidays don’t really exist. While most were preparing for the long weekend, Julien was already in his office early on Good Friday.

Maier, the only coach in the backroom staff joined him to finalize the starting XI. The plan had been set since yesterday: St. Gallen are hosting FC Zürich. The visitors haven't won in their last 8 games. The team will line up in a 4-2-3-1 formation. On paper, the odds are in St. Gallen's favor—Zürich hasn’t tasted an away victory since August.

Maier laid out his notes and sketched his "strongest" version of the lineup on the board. Julien listened, paced the room, and then made his move. He made one change to Maier’s selection:

Görtler in, Dachsner out.

It’s a tactical gamble, as the AMC role isn’t naturally Görtler’s strongest suit. However, Julien’s had two good reasons. First, Görtler’s tendency to drop deeper offers much-needed defensive stability in the transition phase. Second, and perhaps more importantly, Julien had just officially re-confirmed him as club captain 24 hours ago. Leaving the captain on the bench in a must-win game after such a vote of confidence? Not an option.

While FC Zürich is one of St. Gallen’s biggest rivals, it’s not really a Celtic-Rangers-like derby.

As soon as Jonas Maier left the office, a familiar sound broke the morning silence of the corridor: the sharp, rhythmic clicking of high heels. It was Elena Meçe.

"Pre-match press conference in 20 minutes!" she announced, leaning through the door.

Julien looked down at his casual attire. "But I don't have a suit with me. No one told me!"

"You should check your emails more often," Elena shot back. "Just this once, you'll do as you are. See you in the press room."

Before Julien could even ask for directions—still not entirely sure of the stadium's inner maze—she was already gone, the fading echo of her heels the only trace left behind.

Awkwardly navigating the hallways, Julien almost literally ran into Lukas Görtler. The captain was also heading to the presser. Good thing I put him in the starting XI, Julien thought with a internal sigh of relief.

"Lukas, could you show me the way to the press room?" Julien asked.

"Sure, I’m heading there anyway," Lukas replied, then added with a half-smile as they started walking, "Didn’t Elena show you? She’s quite the looker, isn't she?" Julien stayed silent, but Lukas continued, "A bit stiff, maybe, but she doesn't mean any harm."

"Not too bad," Elena remarked as they wrapped up, her sharp heels clicking away as she vanished down the hall. Julien headed back toward his office, the adrenaline from the press conference slowly fading.

As the season's end approached, agents were practically lining up, flooding his inbox with recommendations for every type of player imaginable. One name, however, caught his eye.

Julien was looking at the profile of Kalidou Sidibé a little longer. A 202 cm defensive powerhouse currently at Guingamp, Sidibé was entering the final months of his contract. With his deal set to expire soon, he represented a potentially massive bargain.

Julien saved the scout report to his private folder. He knew the summer window would be unpredictable; if he couldn't keep the core of his current squad together, a physical presence like Sidibé—a mountain in the midfield—might be exactly what he’d need to rebuild.

Before the next training session, it was time for another team meeting. This time, Julien didn't hold back. He stood before the squad, looked them in the eye, and spoke with conviction about the road ahead. He made it clear: based on their quality, he expects nothing less than a finish in the top half of the table. This wasn't the generic "happy to be here" introduction from yesterday; this was a challenge. And the players loved it. Lawrence Ati-Zigi, the influential goalkeeper was the first to react. His body language shifted to Encouraged as he turned to his teammates.

"Come on you lot, the boss is right," Ati-Zigi said. "We have the quality. We can finish in the top half!"

Seeing the vice-captain back him up in front of the group was exactly what Julien needed. The connection was forming, and the "new manager" label was slowly being replaced by "the boss."

After a grueling training session focused entirely on set-pieces—corners and free kicks that could prove decisive in a tight derby—Julien went back to his office. He looked at the monitor as a new notification popped up. An email from Elena.

"Not another press conference, please..." he thought. But as he clicked through, he realized it was just a daily press briefing. Elena had forwarded a clipping from the morning sports pages featuring Adrian Ursea, the Romanian manager of FC Zürich. Ursea had been asked about Julien’s recent appointment and what he expected from the "new look" St. Gallen. The Romanian’s response was characteristically composed.

Later that afternoon, Julien met with Jonas Maier once more to add the final tactical layers. They pored over the scouting reports on Zürich, and a clear pattern emerged: the visitors relied heavily on long balls to bypass the midfield.

"If they want to go with long balls, we’ll squeeze the space," Julien decided, pointing to the magnetic board. He instructed the team to play with a higher defensive line, forcing Zürich’s strikers into offside traps or rushed, inaccurate long balls. Offensively, they wanted to play with patience. Julien didn't want desperate long-range shots; he demanded the team work the ball into the box, waiting for the high-quality chances. Analysis also highlighted a specific weakness in Zürich’s defensive structure: they were consistently vulnerable to attacks coming from the left flank. This played perfectly into St. Gallen’s hands, as Christian Witzig had been showing immense form.Witzig was the ideal weapon to exploit that side.

"Focus the play through the left," Julien told Maier. "If we overload that side, we’ll break them."

It was 8:00 PM by the time Julien and Maier finally stepped away from the tactical board. The stadium was quiet.

"So, are we set?" Jonas asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

"We’re set," Julien replied.

The two walked together in the night toward Julien's hotel. They found a quiet corner in the hotel bar. Over a single pint of beer, the conversation naturally drifted back to tomorrow’s clash. They dissected the "what-ifs"—What if Zürich sits deep? What if Witzig gets doubled up on? As they finished their days, Maier went home, and Julien back to his room.

At this point I've hit continue and a day has passed. See you tomorrow with Julien's first competitive match as a manager:

April 4th, 2026

Saturday arrived. Julien was awake long before his alarm, his mind already running through tactical scenarios. By 7:00 AM, he was in the hotel dining room, having a coffee and a light breakfast. Back in his room, he flipped open his laptop, and an email from Roger Stilz, the Director of Football, was waiting for him.It was a briefing on the board and supporter expectations for tonight’s clash at Kybunpark. 

Julien leaned back with a smile on his face as he scrolled through the points. His instincts were just confirmed: the expectations were realistic and mirrored his own thoughts. The Board expected at least a draw but believed there was a chance to "sneak a win." More importantly, they were eager to see exciting, attacking football and a high-pressing style. The Supporters felt the same. While they predicted a draw, that "faint hope" of beating Zürich was everywhere. Julien knew the statistics: Zürich had been winless for 8 games and hadn't tasted an away victory since August. The psychological weight was heavy on the visitors, and Julien’s plan was to use that to St. Gallen's advantage.

"They are vulnerable," Julien whispered to himself. "Pressing football and a chance to end their misery—while starting our own run. That, I can deliver."

The Kybunpark was expected to be near its 20,029 capacity. With the fans giving them a 40% win probability, the stage was set for a massive night. Julien headed out for an hour-long run through the local streets. He wasn't anonymous anymore. Despite being in town for only a few days, the heavy media coverage had made his face familiar for the fans.

"Come on Espen!" a few locals shouted as he jogged past. The nickname, a nod to the club’s historic former home, the Espenmoos, echoed through the crisp air. It was a reminder that he wasn't just managing a team; he was carrying the hopes of a community.

Back at the hotel, refreshed after a quick shower, another email from Roger Stilz was waiting. It was the first "victory" of the day, and it happened off the pitch. Pascal Zuberbühler had officially accepted the role of Goalkeeping Coach.

Securing a legend like "Zubi"—a man with 51 caps for Switzerland and a wealth of international coaching experience—was a massive statement. Julien knew that having Zuberbühler in the coaching team wouldn't just improve the keepers; it would bring a winning mentality to the entire backroom staff. The pieces started to fall into place. The board was happy, the fans were cheering in the streets, and a Swiss icon was joining his project. Now, all that remained was to deliver on the pitch against a wounded Zürich side.

Only a few minutes later, Julien’s phone chimed again. Another email from Stilz. Fritz Schmid had also accepted the offer to become St. Gallen's Assistant manager. Julien’s coaching staff was rapidly becoming one of the most experienced in the league. Schmid brought nearly 30 years of footballing wisdom to the table. His CV was a world tour of high-level football: from the Premier League with Tottenham Hotspur to a dominant era at FC Basel, and even international stints as the Technical Director of Malaysia and Manager of New Zealand.

By late afternoon, six more people had joined the backroom staff, filling the remaining gaps in the coaching and medical departments. Julien decided to go to Gründenmoos (the team's training ground next to the stadium) to watch the U19s in action. He wanted to see if any young gems were ready to be polished. However, what he witnessed was a sobering reality check. St. Gallen’s youngsters were beaten heavily by a clinical Luzern side. It ended in a  5-0 defeat and not a single player managed to catch his eye.

By 5:30 PM, Julien was back at the Kybunpark. The stadium was still quiet, three hours before the 8:00 PM kickoff. He first met with the existing coaching staff. Julien wasted no time. He officially announced the high-profile new arrivals.

"The team is growing," Julien told them, looking each man in the eye. "Schmid, Zuberbühler, and the others are coming to strengthen us, not to take your places. We are one unit."

They turned their attention to the tactical board one last time. No more tweaks, no more second-guessing. The plan was locked in.

The starting XI was exactly as Julien and Maier had envisioned: Ati-Zigi between the posts; a back four of Okoroji, Ambrosius, Stanic, and Vandermersch. In the engine room, Boukhalfa and Neziri were tasked with controlling the tempo, with Witzig, Görtler (as the advanced playmaker/shadow striker), and Baldé, all supporting the lone man up front, Vladi. On the bench, Julien had a mix of experience and tactical options: Watkowiak, Vallci, Daschner, Vogt, Gaal, Konietzke, Ajeti, Giordano, and Fehr.

"This is the team to for today" Julien said, tapping the board.

He looked at his team in the dressing room before the kick off. He didn't need a long speech. He just needed them to believe.

"We’re favourites for a reason," Julien’s voice was calm but carried an undeniable edge. "Go out there and make sure they’re left in no doubt as to why."

St. Gallen kicked off the match. In the opening minutes, Julien's team put them under immense pressure, with the ball constantly raining into the Zürich penalty area. However, by the end of the first fifteen minutes, Zürich gradually took control of the game, trying to create danger mainly from corner kicks. For the first 30 minutes, neither goalkeeper had much to do. Julien stayed active on the touchline, encouraging the team, but the flow of the match remained unchanged. Then, in the 40th minute, the breakthrough almost came: Okoroji unleashed a low drive from 20 yards out, but the ball rattled off the post and bounced back into play.

At halftime, Julien decided it was time for a change. He made two substitutions: Fehr replaced Baldé on the right wing, while 21-year-old Vogt took Vladi’s place as the lone striker. His message in the dressing room was clear: they had to be much more clinical and decisive in the final third if they wanted to break the deadlock.

The impact was almost instant. In the 48th minute, Görtler played a sublime through ball, slicing the Zürich defense wide open. Vogt showed composure, delicately dinking the ball over the diving goalkeeper and into the back of the net. The Kybunpark nearly exploded. 1-0. 

The momentum stayed with the home side for a while. Only a few minutes later, Fehr almost doubled the lead with a thunderous 30-yard free-kick, but Brecher just managed to tip it out of the top right corner. By the 60th minute, Neziri began to tire, and Julien handed a chance to the 19-year-old Konietzke. However, Zürich didn't back down and slowly started to regain control of the game. Julien was visibly frustrated with Witzig’s performance, but with no natural replacement on the bench, he had to find another solution. He opted for a tactical shift to a 4-3-3, which transitioned into a compact 4-1-4-1 in defense. Although no further subs were made, the change worked wonders. Zürich struggled to create any real openings, while St. Gallen began winning more balls and launching increasingly dangerous counters. In the final ten minutes, the home side kept the pressure high, repeatedly forcing the ball into the Zürich box. The scoreline remained unchanged, and as the final whistle blew, the sell-out crowd erupted. Julien’s debut was a success: a hard-fought 1-0 victory against Zürich.

At the post-match press conference, Julien couldn’t hide his joy and sheer relief. He looked like a man who had just shed a massive weight off his shoulders, visibly proud of the result and his team. The room was buzzing, and the questions quickly turned to his tactical masterstroke. Many journalists praised the performance of young Vogt, congratulating Julien on the "masterclass" substitutions that changed the game. 

"The boys followed the plan, and the impact from the bench was exactly what we needed," Julien told the reporters, a wide smile breaking across his face.

After the adrenaline of the press conference had begun to fade, Julien headed back to his office at the Kybunpark to collect his things. He expected a quiet, empty room, but a massive surprise was waiting for him inside. His entire family was there—even Léa and Paul had made the trip. They had watched the entire match from the VIP box, cheering him on in secret. In the whirlwind of his first few days, Julien had completely lost track of time, forgetting that it was already the kids' spring break. By the time they hugged and shared the excitement of the 1-0 win, it was nearly 11:00 PM. The family walked back to the hotel together through the cool St. Gallen night. They spent a little time talking about Julien’s frantic first days and the electric atmosphere of the stadium, but the exhaustion of the day soon caught up with them. Before long, they all fell into a deep, well-deserved sleep.

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April 5th, 2026

To celebrate the hard-fought victory, Julien granted the entire squad and staff a well-deserved break for Easter Sunday and Monday. It was the perfect timing; the pressure of the debut was gone, and the "icing on the cake" was that he didn't have to spend these quiet days alone.

After a long, relaxed breakfast with the family—a stark contrast to the lonely coffee he’d had just twenty-four hours earlier—Julien realized that when he seen his children the night before, he has left his laptop in the office. They made a trip back to the empty Kybunpark. With the stadium silenced after the Saturday night roar, Julien gave the Gauthiers a private tour, letting them stand by the dugout where he had been pacing just hours before.

Afterwards, Julien attempted to play the role of the local guide, trying to show them the few parts of St. Gallen he had discovered. However, with his mind still more focused on tactical transitions than street names, his internal GPS failed him. It wasn't long before the "Gauthier tour" ended up in a maze of unfamiliar side streets. Julien, usually so precise with his directions on the pitch, had to laugh as he realized they were completely lost—proving that while he might have mastered the Kybunpark, the city itself still had plenty of secrets to hide from him.

They stopped at a local restaurant for an early lunch, the atmosphere around the table was great. Louis was buzzing, his eyes wide as he replayed his favorite moments from the match, clearly bursting with pride for his father. Even Camille seemed to get used to the idea of moving to St. Gallen, however she was not totally convinced yet. Midway through the meal, Julien’s phone began to vibrate incessantly with notifications. He took a quick glance and couldn't suppress a grin. One by one, every single candidate they had reached out to had officially accepted their offers. His dream backroom staff was now a reality.

When the waiter arrived with the bill, Julien took the chance to ask for some local expertise. "We’ve managed to get ourselves a bit lost already," Julien admitted with a laugh. "What should I show my family while they’re here for Easter?"

"Of course, Monsieur Gauthier," the waiter replied with a smile, recognizing the man who had just delivered a victory to his team. 

After their extensive walk through the city, revisiting the Abbey District and the vibrant Roter Platz, the family sat down for a relaxed dinner at the hotel. They spent the evening planning the next day’s trip to the shores of Lake Constance (Bodensee).

Julien’s phone rang—it was a call from the club’s president, Matthias Hüppi. He was calling to congratulate him, but not just for the win against Zürich. Julien had completely missed the results of the day. Hüppi’s voice was full of excitement as he delivered the news: Lugano had lost to Sion. This meant that regardless of what happens in the final match of the regular season next week, St. Gallen had mathematically secured their place in the Championship Group. The Swiss Super League’s post-split format meant they were now officially among the top six teams who would battle it out for the title and European spots in the final weeks of the season.

"You did it, Julien," Hüppi said over the phone. "The first goal of the season is achieved. We are in the top six."

At  this moment I've hit continue and a couple of days have passed. See you on (tomorrow):

April 7th, 2026

Easter Monday was perfect for their hike to Lake Constance (Lake Boden). They walked along the promenade in Rorschach.

They had a really nice day out. They had some street food for a quick lunch and the kids really enjoyed the view of the lake, and the area in general. As the family headed back to St. Gallen, where the first departures began. Léa had to catch a flight from Zurich to Lyon for a contemporary art exhibition opening at the gallery where she worked, while Paul was due back in Paris for a series of meetings. After their goodbyes at the station, the rest of the family—Laura and the kids—settled back into the hotel, lucky enough to stay longer thanks to the school spring break.

Late that evening, with the hotel room quiet at last, Julien’s "manager mode" kicked back in. He sat at his desk as he began delegating tasks for his staff before next morning's staff meeting. It wasn't just about tactics anymore; it was about integration. He meticulously drafted the introduction for the new arrivals—Schmid, "Zubi," and the others—ensuring that the existing staff felt valued while making it clear that the bar had just been raised. By the time he closed his eyes, the blueprint for the "New St. Gallen" was ready to be presented.

Tuesday morning brought another layer of professional responsibility: a recruitment meeting with the Director of Football, Roger Stilz. Julien sat in the high-backed chair of his office, the steam from his second espresso rising as they went through the immediate squad concerns.

The discussion boiled down to two key points regarding the future of the attack. Stilz leaned forward, gesturing to the data on his tablet. First, he proposed extending the loan of Shkëlqim Vladi, arguing that the Kosovar striker provided necessary depth as a regular member of the squad. Second, he strongly advised removing Alessandro Vogt from the loan list entirely. Julien didn't hesitate on the second point. The 21-year-old had already proven his worth by clinching the winner against Zürich, and his consistent appearances under the previous manager showed he was a talent worth securing for the long term. Vogt wasn't just a prospect anymore; he was becoming a first team regular. However, Vladi was a different story. Julien remained unconvinced. Watching the tapes and seeing the two on the pitch, he didn't feel the Kosovar forward offered anything more than what they already had in the homegrown Vogt. Julien leaned back, tapping his pen against the desk. 

"I'm not sure about Vladi, Roger," he said. "If we want to compete for beigger targets next year every loan player in this squad has to be an undeniable upgrade. I'm not seeing that here yet." - so they didn't decide on th Vladi yet.

The string of meetings continued on Tuesday morning with Jonas Maier, Performance Analyst. In Julien’s office, the wall-mounted monitors flickered with heat maps and statistical clusters from their upcoming opponent: FC Lugano. As they looked deeper into the data, they've seen something interesting. While Lugano attempted an average volume of crosses per match, their success rate was  low—hardly any of their deliveries actually found a teammate in the box. Julien and Meier shared a knowing look; the weakness was staring them in the face.

"We force them wide," Julien said, pointing to the flank on the tactical screen. "We squeeze the center, lock down the half-spaces, and practically invite them to cross the ball. If we let them have the wings but own the penalty area, they’ll spend ninety minutes beating themselves with inaccurate balls." It was a classic "trap" strategy.

The analysis didn't stop at open play. As Julien and Maier scrolled through the set-piece data, another red flag appeared. Lugano were exceptionally clinical from dead-ball situations, both in terms of their attacking threat and their disciplined defensive organization against them. "We can't afford to give them corners or fouls anywhere near our final third," Julien noted, his eyes narrowing at the screen. "One momentary lapse in discipline, and their set-piece specialists will punish us. We need to stay on our feet, defend cleanly, and keep the game moving." It was clear that relying on headers or chaotic scrambles from their own corners wouldn't be the path to victory either. 

"Offensively, we have to change our approach. We won’t beat them in the air or by crowding the six-yard box. We need something different—variation, short routines, pulling their markers out of position."

By the time the meeting ended, the blueprint for the Lugano clash was multifaceted: force them to the wings, invite the crosses we know they’ll miss, and maintain absolute tactical discipline to deny them the set-pieces they are looking for.

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April 10th, 2026

While Julien spent his mornings at the Kybunpark with the squad, Laura took the children to discover the charm of St. Gallen. Camille took charge of the maps and helped navigate the winding streets of the Old Town. Louis  was more interested in the Swiss chocolate shops and the local trains. Evenings were spent in the apartment they rented for the week, where Julien could listen to Camille’s stories about school and Louis’s latest football practice back home.

On Thursday, Julien invited them to the training ground. It was a proud moment for him. Camille watched from the sidelines, starting to understand the pressure her father faced, while Louis was busy trying to get a high-five from the star striker after a shooting drill. The players seemed more relaxed seeing the "Gaffer" as a family man, and the atmosphere felt lighter, warmer.

Friday morning the Easter break had come to an end. While Julien’s big match at the Kybunpark wasn't until Sunday, the logistics of school and life back in Le Havre meant that Laura, Camille, and Louis had to leave today. The kitchen in their rented St. Gallen apartment was quiet. The excitement of the week—the lake visit, the chocolate tasting, and the training ground tour—was replaced by the clicking of suitcases.

"I'm sorry you can't stay for the match," Julien said, leaning against the car door.

"We know, Papa," Camille replied, giving him a supportive hug. "Sunday is your day. We’ll be cheering from the sofa in Le Havre."

Louis looked up from his seat in the back, already wearing his St. Gallen cap. "You have to win, okay? I told my friends you’re the best coach in Switzerland!"

By 9:00 AM, the taxi pulled away. Julien stood on the sidewalk until the sound of the engine faded.. He took a deep breath, picked up his tactical folder, and headed toward the stadium. The family holiday was over. The Sunday showdown was now the only thing that mattered.

Friday afternoon at the Kybunpark in the manager’s office, the air is thick with coffee steam and tactical sketches. Julien and his assistant, Fritz Schmid, are hunched over the whiteboard, finalizing the trap for Lugano.

"It’s a risk, Julien, but it’s the best way to catch them off guard," Schmid says, pointing to the magnetic markers.

Julien and Schmid have decided to stick with a permanent 4-4-2 Diamond (Narrow), both in and out of possession. No shifting, no complex transitions—just a rock-solid, disciplined diamond that stays compact even when defending. It was late Friday afternoon. The tactical board was covered in circles and arrows, the 4-4-2 Diamond finally perfected. Julien and Schmid were about to pack up, their minds already shifting to the final starting XI selection on Saturday, when a familiar sound echoed through the corridor.

Click. Click. Click.

The sharp, rhythmic sound of high heels on the floor signaled only one person. The office door swung open, and Elena Meçe, the club’s Head of Press, stepped in. She didn't look at the tactical board; she looked straight at Julien with a "no-nonsense" expression. "Julien," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "Don't get too comfortable with your magnets. Pre-match press conference tomorrow morning, 9:00 AM sharp. Don't be late."  Before Julien could even mention the extra hour of sleep he’d hoped for, Elena had already turned on her heel and disappeared back down the hallway, the fading click-click the only evidence she’d been there.

Schmid chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Well, boss, I guess the Diamond will have to wait. You’ve got the media to feed first."

Julien sat at his desk in the hotel room. He navigated to the pre-match analysis for the Sunday clash in Lugano, and the headline hit him harder than expected: "Sack looms over Croci-Torti with St. Gallen up next." Julien stared at the photo of Mattia Croci-Torti. He felt empathy. Only a few weeks ago, he was the one listed as "Currently Unemployed," watching games from his sofa in Le Havre. Now, he was the "executioner." If his 4-4-2 Diamond worked perfectly on Sunday, he wouldn't just win three points—he might end another man’s career.

"It could be me," Julien whispered to the empty room. "In six months, in a year... that could be my face under that headline."

He scrolled down to the match prediction. Lugano 39% - St. Gallen 34%. The fans and pundits were backing the home side, despite their internal crisis. Julien noted the suspensions—Bislimi and Behrens out for Lugano. It was a massive blow for them as Bislimi started 31 games in the league so far this season.

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April 11th, 2026

Julien Gauthier stepped out of the Hotel one66 at 6:55 AM. It was just a five-minute walk to the club’s facilities no car, no distractions—just the rhythm of his footsteps. As he crossed the street toward the stadium office, his phone buzzed with the early press news.  "End of an Era for Cornaredo." It wasn't just a battle for points or a fight for Mattia Croci-Torti’s job; it was the final farewell to the historic Stadio Cornaredo. Julien wasn't aware of this until now, but he knew it changes everything. It gives a massive energy boost to the home side.

As Julien arrived to his office, he checked his mails. There was one from Jonas Maier. Since Julien’s arrival on April 1st, he had relied on Maier’s deep knowledge of the squad, but the attachment on his screen—the proposed starting XI for tomorrow’s battle in Lugano—but he didn't like it. It was showing no less than 6 changes to the lineup against Zürich last week (including the 2 centre backs). Unfortunately he didn't have much time to think about it now.

A sharp knock on the door broke his concentration. Elena Meçe stepped into the office, her presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. Julien couldn't help but admire her—she was, by any standard, a stunning woman—but her beauty was wrapped in a layer of professional frost that he had yet to break.

"I see you didn't forget to get dressed today," she remarked."We need to go. Now."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed toward the press room. The rhythmic click-clack of her high heels on the hallway floor sounded like a countdown. Julien grabbed his notes and hurried after her, feeling less like the head coach of a top-tier Swiss club and more like a schoolboy being summoned to the principal's office. As they approached the media center, Julien mentally shifted gears. Behind those doors sat the journalists waiting to ask him about the fate of Mattia Croci-Torti, and the historical weight of the Stadio Cornaredo.

The expected interrogation never came. Instead of sharp questions about the historical weight of Cornaredo or the precarious future of Mattia Croci-Torti, Julien found himself staring at five disinterested faces. The room was thick with professional boredom. Julien gave standard, rehearsed answers, his mind already back on the changes he planned for the starting XI. He didn't enjoy a single second of it. As the microphones were switched off, Julien stood up, ready to escape. Elena, however, hadn't lost her edge. 

"Don't get too confident just because they went easy on you," on that familiar, icy tone of her voice. “Results speak louder than a quiet room.”

With that, she left immediately, leaving the scent of expensive perfume.

Back in his office, the indifference of the press room was quickly forgotten. Julien met Jonas Maier and Fritz Schmid.

In the end, there were a total of 3 changes to the starting lineup. The 31-time Ghanaian international Lawrence Ati-Zigi remains in goal. At left-back is 28-year-old German Chima Okoroji, with Frenchman Hugo Vandermersch on the right. The center-back pairing consists of 4-time Ghanaian international Stephan Ambrosius and 27-year-old Croatian Jozo Stanic.

In front of them, 4-time Albanian international Behar Neziri plays as a defensive midfielder. Captain Lukas Görtler drops back into midfield alongside Carlo Boukhalfa, while Lukas Daschner starts in the attacking midfielder position.

Vladi, who is on loan from Lugano, cannot play against his parent club, so homegrown talent Alessandro Vogt—who scored the winning goal against Zurich—and 11-time Swiss international Albian Ajeti, on loan from Basel, start in the forward line.

Before the morning training session, Maier quietly entered the dressing room and pinned the starting lineup to the notice board. As the players arrived, they immediately checked it. Ahead of the early Sunday afternoon kick-off, the squad completed a light Saturday morning training session followed by a team lunch in the canteen. By Saturday afternoon, they were already on their way to Lugano.

Saturday's results meant that St. Gallen enters the final match of the regular season with a mathematical chance of overtaking 4th-placed Luzern.

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April 12th, 2026

Matchday at the Cornaredo Stadium, Lugano

The St. Gallen board is realistic—they recognize Lugano are favorites for a reason, but they aren’t just looking for points. They want to see identity. They want to be entertained. They expect us to stay proactive and hunt for the ball. The supporters are even more conservative, predicting a draw but secretly hoping for a win. They’ve seen what the team did against Zürich and  want them to stick with that successful formation. 

Hopefully they won't be disappointed with the 4-4-2-diamond Julien and Schmid planned for the match. Everything seemed set for the clash, but the final training session yesterday brought a minor setback. Albert Vallaci took a knock during a drill—nothing serious, but enough to keep him out of the matchday squad.  Jésah Ayessa takes his place on the bench, ready to provide cover if things get physical. Despite this minor shuffle among the substitutes, the starting XI remains exactly as posted on the dressing room wall yesterday. 

Julien kept his pre-match talk brief. He looked his players in the eye and reminded them of the of green and white flags waiting outside: over 1,000 St. Gallen supporters had made the journey to Cornaredo to back the team. "They came to see a team that fights and a team that plays with heart. Make sure that when they head back home, they do so with a smile. Give them a performance worth the trip."

Just before kickoff, Julien had to fulfill his media obligations. He was approached by Juan Felipe Martinez from fourfourtwo.com for a quick pre-match interview.

It was the usual dance of predictable questions and equally guarded answers. Martinez probed about the tactical shift and the pressure of following up on the Zürich win, but Julien kept his cards close to his chest. 

Lugano were set up in a 4-2-3-1 formation. The home side started the match. The first few minutes brought home possession dominance, but they failed to create any chances; then, after 5 minutes, St. Gallen broke free and threatened with corners from both sides. In the 10th minute, Neziri played a through ball to Vogt, who reached the line behind the defenders before pulling it back to Vandermersch charging into the box, who fired into the net from 10 meters at medium height. Following a cross from the right, Steffen equalized with a beautiful header from 5 meters in the 17th minute. Afterwards, St. Gallen put more and more pressure on the home goal. Corner followed corner, but they remained fruitless. In the 40th minute, Vogt sent a promising shot that the home keeper could only just push away. Lugano haven't attempted a shot since their goal. At the end of the first half, the teams went into the break with a 1-1 draw.

During the break, Julien sent Witzig onto the pitch to replace Boukhalfa and encouraged the team.

St. Gallen started the second half more actively. The corners kept coming, but they couldn't convert any of them. Then, in the 51st minute, Okoroji played Ajeti through on the right side, who played a low ball across the six-yard box parallel to the goal line. Daschner made it 1-2 from close range. Then Witzig played it out to the yellow-carded Vandermersch, who carried the ball to the goal line outside the box before crossing it to Ajeti, who was successful from 6 meters, making it 1-3. At this point, Lugano clearly tried to regain the initiative, while St. Gallen attempted long passes. In the 70th minute, Konietzke replaced Neziri, and Triboulet came on for Vogt; a few minutes later, following a corner, Witzig found the net from 20 meters with a low shot through a crowd of players. 1-4. Lugano constantly tried to attack, while St. Gallen got behind them with a single long pass almost every time they won the ball. In the last 10 minutes, holding a confident lead, St. Gallen did not force the attacks at all, while Lugano was unable to break through the visitors' defense until the final minute, when Papadopoulos set the final score after a free kick. Lugano-St. Gallen 2-4.

Even Elena Meçe, the team's press officer, cracked a smile before the press conference, which took place in a very good atmosphere. Julien was asked about Vandermersch's goal and Lugano's 26-meter free-kick goal at the end. However, he was slightly unsettled by the question regarding rumors that Daschner might leave at the end of the season.

The team bus set off at 6 PM on its nearly 3-hour journey towards Kybunpark. The trip went great, everyone was celebrating. Meanwhile, they found out the other results as well; St. Gallen finished the regular season in 4th place. It meant they had a real chance for a spot in the Conference League.

Since there was a three-week break in the league and the team had performed brilliantly, they were given Monday off. Julien cheerfully walked to the hotel from the kybunpark. He had two pints of beer at the bar before finally going to sleep.

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April 14th, 2026

After a  1-0 home win against Zürich followed by a 4-2 victory away at Lugano against the odds, Sunday’s triumph had propelled the team to a 4th-place finish, securing a strong position for the upcoming playoffs.

Monday brought a well-deserved day off for the squad. Early that morning, he reached for his phone to call home, but the line just rang out. No one picked up. He tried to rationalize it—the kids were surely at school, and Laura was likely in the middle of her commute. Still, the empty hotel room offered little comfort. After a quiet breakfast in the hotel, the restlessness became too much to bear. Despite the day off, Julien found himself gravitating back to the club’s headquarters; the familiar hum of the office was far more welcoming than the sterile walls of his room.

He spent the morning with reviewing the squad's contracts as he finally had some time to think about the future. To his relief, the foundation of the team remained secure, with only two deals set to expire. Both were twenty-one-year-old prospects: Jordan Höhener, the third-choice goalkeeper, and Noah Probst, a young midfielder. None of them seemed to be ready for the first team, and by the age of 22 there were no time for promises in the Super League.

Julien was prepared to set them both to be released at the end of the season.

His sense of relief was short-lived. As Julien’s attention shifted from the expiring contracts to the top earners, a frown deepened across his forehead. One name stood out, casting a long shadow over the entire wage structure: Lukas Görtler. The club captain was earning significantly more than anyone else in the squad. On one hand, Görtler was the heartbeat of the team, the veteran leader whose presence in the dressing room was invaluable, especially during this transitional period. Selling him would be a huge risk, both tactically and for the fans' morale. On the other hand, such a massive wage disparity was a ticking time bomb; it was only a matter of time before other key players started pointing at the captain’s paycheck during their own negotiations.

Julien leaned back in his office chair, staring at the numbers on the screen. He had come here to build a future, but he realized that managing the present—and the ego of the balance sheet—might be his toughest challenge yet. He needed a plan for Görtler, 

Fortunately, Julien realized that the Görtler situation was a fire he didn’t have to put out just yet. It was a looming shadow, but for now, the status quo held. He could afford to push those financial anxieties to the back of his mind and focus on what truly mattered: the pitch. With two victories under his belt, he finally had a baseline to work from. It was time to look at the squad with a cold, analytical eye. Now, sitting in the quiet of his office, he began to dissect the tactical gaps. He pulled up the performance data, questioning where the team lacked depth and where a fresh face could turn a good side into a title contender. Julien knew that if he wanted to leave his mark on St. Gallen, he couldn't just rely on the momentum of his arrival—he needed to identify exactly where the reinforcements were required before the summer window opened.

His analysis soon sharpened on the heart of the defense. On paper, the squad was well-stocked with six central defenders, a few of whom had proven reliable during his first two games. Yet, as Julien pored over their individual stats and leadership qualities, a glaring void emerged: the backline lacked a true general. There was no one to organize the ranks under pressure or dictate the tempo from the back.  To make room for the transformation he envisioned, he would need to be ruthless. He made a mental note to transfer-list three of them at the end of the season, clearing both the wage bill and the dressing room for a high-caliber replacement—someone who could provide the defensive spark and authority the team so desperately needed for the future. Wasting no time, Julien set one of the scouting team's focuses on central defeders with expiring contracts in Europe.

His focus then shifted to the left side of the defense, where the depth was dangerously thin with only two options. Chima Okoroji had left a positive impression in the first two matches; his work rate and tactical discipline aligned perfectly with Julien’s vision. However, the situation with Giordano was far more troubling. The Italian fullback was earning more than double Okoroji’s salary, yet his contributions on the pitch hardly justified such a premium. To Julien’s eyes, it was a glaring inefficiency. He knew that to balance the books and improve the squad's dynamics, Giordano would have to be moved on. Replacing him with a more cost-effective, high-energy alternative became another priority on his growing summer to-do list.

The right side of the defense offered a much more encouraging picture. From what Julien had seen so far, Hugo Vandermersch was quickly becoming one of the most indispensable players in the squad. His reliability as a regular starter was a cornerstone he could build upon. Furthermore, the versatility of Jozo Stanić provided a vital safety net; though primarily a central defender, the Croatian’s ability to slot in at right-back if needed gave Julien a tactical flexibility he truly valued. Then there was Konrad Faber. Currently out on loan at Dynamo Dresden, the German wing-back was set to return in the summer. Julien decided he would grant Faber a fair chance during the pre-season to prove he belonged in the first team. However, next to Faber’s name in his notebook, Julien sketched a small, deliberate question mark. While the potential was there, he wasn't entirely convinced yet. He intended to keep a close eye on the market for a possible replacement—ideally someone who could upgrade the position without demanding a significant financial layout.

Finally, Julien’s eyes settled on the name of Fabio Fehr. The Swiss player was the ultimate insurance policy—a versatile professional capable of filling in on either flank of the defense. Julien knew exactly what Fehr brought to the table: he wasn't a world-beater, nor would he ever challenge for a permanent starting spot, but he was a reliable "emergency" option who understood his role. Julien was pragmatic enough to realize that a squad player of this profile was essential for a long season. You couldn't realistically sign a world-class talent just to sit on the bench as a backup for the backups. Fehr’s presence offered peace of mind; he was the safety net that allowed Julien to take risks elsewhere in the market.

With the defensive landscape now fully mapped out—from the search for a new leader to the calculated risks on the wings—Julien leaned back, his mind finally drifting away from the spreadsheet. The morning’s work had given him a sense of control, but the silence of the office was starting to feel heavy again. He glanced at his phone, wondering if the distance between St. Gallen and home would feel any shorter if it finally rang.

Having fully mapped out the defense, Julien decided that the three-week break before the next match would provide enough time to check the rest of the squad. To clear his head, he spent the afternoon at the cinema, losing himself in a movie before returning to his ritual: trying to reach his family. This time, Laura picked up.

"Happy birthday," Julien said, his voice softening the moment he heard her. "I know tomorrow will be a busy day for both of us, and I didn't want to miss you."

"Thank you," Laura replied, with a smile. "We watched the match together yesterday. Louis wanted to call you right after the final whistle—he’s so proud of you—but I told him you’d be buried in work."

"Can I talk to them?" Julien asked, leaning back, the hotel room finally feeling a bit warmer.

"Not right now, I'm afraid. Camille is at her music lesson, and Louis is still at football. Maybe tomorrow."

They spoke for another half-hour, the conversation eventually drifting toward their future in St. Gallen. Laura asked if he had started looking at houses yet, but Julien remained cautious. He wasn't ready to commit to new home just yet; he wanted to see how the playoffs unfolded first. He knew better than anyone that a manager’s fate is unpredictable—in football, everything can change with a single whistle. For now, he was content to take it one victory, and one phone call, at a time.

The next morning began with a formal recruitment meeting, a stark contrast to Julien’s solitary session the day before. Roger Stilz, the Director of Football, wasted no time in highlighting the core of the squad, pointing out that Hugo Vandermersch and Chima Okoroji were considered vital members. Julien couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh. He had already started both players in every game so far—Vandermersch had even found the net—and only twenty-four hours earlier, Julien had privately confirmed that both would be central to his plans for the following season.

However, the third item on Stilz’s agenda brought a sudden chill to the room. The Director turned his attention to Kevin Csoboth. The Hungarian international, with 26 caps to his name, had spent the season on loan in the Turkish Süper Lig with Gençlerbirliği, making 33 appearances. Stilz was blunt: he didn't believe Csoboth deserved a place in the future project or a new contract offer.

Julien’s eyebrows shot up. "Why would we even be debating that right now?" he asked, his tone firm but measured. He knew the winger still had over two years left on his current deal. "I haven't even seen the lad play in person yet," he added, leaning forward. Julien wasn't about to let a talent be discarded based on a spreadsheet alone. Before any final decisions were made, he insisted on evaluating Csoboth himself. The meeting had suddenly become a battleground for Julien's authority—he was the one who would lead these men on the pitch, and he wasn't going to let anyone else pick his team.

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April 17th, 2026

Wednesday morning started in a surprisingly quiet fashion. Julien was back at his desk early, resuming his deep dive into the squad depth. With the team training session scheduled 10AM, he only had time to focus on one specific area: the defensive midfield.

Depending on the system he used, he needed either one or two reliable anchors in the starting lineup. Looking at his options, the path forward became clear. He had already decided the day before that Noah Probst would not be part of his future plans, marking the 21-year-old for departure.

That left him with four main candidates. The international experience of Behar Neziri (Albania) and Betim Fazliji (Kosovo) made them solid, dependable pillars. Fazliji, in particular, offered an extra layer of security with his ability to drop back into central defense if needed. Then there was Carlo Boukhalfa; arriving from St. Pauli the previous summer, the German had shown a level of stability that rivaled even the internationals. However, Julien was already considering pushing Boukhalfa a line further forward, where his qualities might be even more impactful.

As for the 19-year-old homegrown talent, Corsin Konietzke, Julien scribbled a single word next to his name: "Loan?". The boy needed minutes to reach his high potential, minutes Julien couldn't guarantee him right now.

The conclusion of the morning was clear: Probst would not be offered a new deal, and Konietzke would be sent out on loan to develop. This left Julien with a clear objective for the summer—he needed one more high-quality signing to round out his midfield engine room.

Julien decided it was time to step away from the spreadsheets the following morning and give his mind a rest from the future's puzzles. He spent the entire day at the Gründenmoos training ground with his team. He wanted to see his players up close—not as statistics, but as men. Watching them from the sidelines, he was heartened by the atmosphere. The squad looked relaxed and confident however, as the session progressed, a bit of concern started to grow. There are still sixteen days before the game against Lausanne, which is a long time to go without the competitive edge of a match. He knew all too well how easily professional players could drift into a "holiday mode" during such a gap. Unwilling to let their momentum stall before the Lausanne clash, Julien took matters into his own hands. Before the day was out, he had his staff reach out to FK Austria Vienna. He wanted a high-level test, to keep his players' focus sharp. He didn't just want them rested; he wanted them ready.

After Thursday's training session, Julien called over Jonas Maier, the man who had been instrumental in helping him settle in before the rest of the new staff arrived. "Jonas, are we doing anything after training tomorrow?" he asked. The truth was, Julien was starting to feel the boredom of being alone in St. Gallen. "We’ll see," came the reply. "We’ll figure something out, I'll speak with Mario"

To the surprise of the squad, on Friday he didn't just stay on the sidelines. As Assistant Manager Fritz Schmid took charge of the session, the 45-year-old Julien laced up his boots and joined the players on the grass. While he knew physically he couldn't compete with a twenty-something-year-old pro anymore, he still had some tricks in the bag. During a small-sided possession game, he pulled off a few technical flourishes—a perfectly weighted no-look pass and a delicate chip—that drew genuine applause and impressed whistles from the team. This moment of shared sweat and skill did more than any office meeting could; the players saw that their new boss was a footballer at heart who truly understood the game. 

As the session ended,  Julien, along with Fritz Schmid, Pascal Zuberbühler, and Jonas Maier, gathered in the garden of Mario Gilli, the club’s Head of Youth Development, who had been at St. Gallen for eight years. Over a few beers, the barriers began to melt away. The group stayed late into the evening, and Julien could feel the coaching staff finally starting to gel.  Julien took the opportunity to test the waters with Zuberbühler, leaning in to ask his thoughts on the current goalkeeper situation. The legendary keeper offered a knowing nod but suggested they shouldn't rush the analysis over a drink. They agreed to dive deeper into the specifics of the shot-stoppers the following week. He knew that building a winning team started with building a loyal team behind the scenes.

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April 18th, 2026

Saturday started with a sleepy rhythm for the St. Gallen coaching staff.

In the morning, Julien and Pascal Zuberbühler found a window to sit down and check the goalkeeper situation in detail. The conversation, however, offered no surprises. As they reviewed the performance data and training notes, it became clear that the legendary keeper’s assessment mirrored Julien’s own observations. The verdict was unanimous: the club would not be offering a contract extension to the 21-year-old Jordan Höhener. While the young keeper had been a professional presence, he simply hadn't shown the skills required to push for a starting spot in the long term.

While the decision on Höhener was a simple matter of squad trimming, the other end of the spectrum was equally clear. Lawrence Ati-Zigi, the Ghanaian international, was undoubtedly the undisputed number one. His statistics for the season spoke for themselves: in 31 appearances, he had conceded only 28 goals, keeping an impressive 12 clean sheets.

For Julien, there was no debate to be had. Zuberbühler agreed that Ati-Zigi’s reflexes and leadership from the back were among the league’s best. As Julien scribbled the projected lineup for the next season on his whiteboard, the very first name he wrote down—without a moment's hesitation—was Ati-Zigi. The goalkeeper position was solved at the top; now the challenge was simply finding a reliable deputy to sit behind the Ghanaian.

The role of the reliable deputy was already well-secured by Lukas Watkowiak. The 30-year-old German had been with the club since 2020 and seemed perfectly content and capable in his position as the second choice. His record this season was great: in his three appearances, he had kept two clean sheets, proving he could step in at a moment's notice without the team losing its defensive shape. To Julien, Watkowiak was the ideal professional—experienced, steady, and selfless.

Julien’s planning didn’t stop at the first two names. He knew the importance of a solid third-choice goalkeeper—someone who could step in, should an injury crisis strike. They turned their attention to the club's youth ranks and loan reports, quickly identifying a potential candidate: Gentrit Muslija.

The 20-year-old homegrown talent was currently in his second season on loan at FC Wil in the second division. Despite his team struggling at the bottom of the table, Muslija had established himself as their undisputed number one, gaining invaluable senior experience. Julien faced a classic developmental crossroads. On one hand, bringing Muslija back to St. Gallen would provide a high-quality, homegrown insurance policy on the bench. On the other hand, at twenty years old, another year of starting every week—even in a struggling side—might be better for his long-term growth than sitting behind Ati-Zigi and Watkowiak.

Julien left a note in his file: "Decision pending pre-season." For now, the goalkeeping department was as settled as it could be.

The afternoon was dedicated to a match-practice session on the training pitch.

Once the session wrapped up, Julien and Jonas Maier headed toward the clubhouse for a quick caffeine fix before parting ways. Julien took one sip "This coffee is fucking awful," he said, shaking his head. The effects of the previous night’s gathering at Mario Gilli’s were still very much present; both men were nursing world-class hangovers. 

Jonas let out a weak laugh. "Maybe we should just have another beer instead. Hair of the dog, right?"

Julien didn't need much convincing. They abandoned the coffee and wandered back to the hotel bar, where they shared a few drinks. It wasn't about tactics or contracts anymore—just two colleagues finding their rhythm. After a couple of rounds, Jonas headed home to his family, leaving Julien alone once more. Feeling the weight of the week’s work and the lack of sleep catching up with him, Julien headed upstairs and crashed into bed early in the silence of the hotel room.

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April 19th, 2026

The coaching staff had scheduled a light day for the squad, focusing on recovery and much-needed rest. 

To foster a sense of unity, the entire team and staff shared a long lunch in the club’s canteen, the atmosphere was great, it was full of easy conversation rather than tactical demands.

After lunch, he walked back to the hotel on this quiet Sunday afternoon. He settled into his room and finally made the call he had been looking forward to all day. This time, the whole family was there. He recounted the highlights of Friday night, laughing as he told Laura about the "bonding session" with his colleagues and the subsequent, self-inflicted misery of the morning’s coffee.

Then it was the children’s turn. Little Louis excitedly shared stories from school, his voice bubbling with the kind of everyday details Julien missed the most. Camille, however, was more practical; she wanted to know if her father had already scouted out a music school in St. Gallen where she could continue her flute lessons. Julien promised her it was on his list, a gentle reminder that his success here wasn't just about league points, but about building a home for the people he loved. As he hung up, the silence of the hotel room didn't feel quite so heavy anymore.

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April 21st, 2026

Matchday at Kybunpark, St. Gallen

St. Gallen - Austria Vienna (Friendly)

On Monday morning, Julien and his assistant manager, Fritz Schmid finalized their strategy for the clash against FK Austria Vienna. After analyzing the squad’s recent performances and the physical state of the players, they agreed on a flexible 4-2-3-1 formation, which switches 4-3-3 DM when out of possession.

The plan for the match was clear and balanced. Julien decided to give the starting nod to the fringe players—those who had seen limited minutes in the league so far. It was their chance to prove they could handle his tactical demands under pressure. Then, for the second half, the plan was to unleash the "A-team," bringing on the strongest possible lineup to maintain intensity and ensure the squad remained sharp for the upcoming playoff battles.

Julien decided to give a rest to only two players: the third-choice goalkeeper, Jordan Höhener, whose future at the club was already decided, and the captain, Lukas Görtler, who needed to stay fresh for the leadership challenges ahead. Everyone else was expected to play their part.

The tactical board in the dressing room laid out the specific roles for the first half. 

Julien took a look at his inbox after the meeting with Schmid. A loan report had just arrived from Germany, and the headline immediately caught his eye: Konrad Faber had put in a "Player of the Match" performance for Dynamo Dresden. Not only had he been a rock at the back in their 2-0 victory over VfL Bochum, but he had also netted a goal—his third of the campaign.

Julien stared at the screen for a moment, recalling the small question mark he had drawn next to Faber’s name only days before. 

Tuesday afternoon everybody was fit. Julien and the coaches met at the statium 2 hours before kick off.

From the opening whistle, Julien was on his feet, his voice echoing across the stadium as he tried to inject some energy into his side. However, it was FK Austria Vienna who took control in the first few minutes. The visitors looked sharper, more organized, and hungrier for the ball. They took the lead in the 8th minute when Johannes Eggestein found space inside the six-yard box and poked the ball home from close range, giving the Austrians a deserved lead. St. Gallen tried to respond, mainly form left wing, but Abdoulaye Ouattara's crosses were consistently off-target or easily cleared by the Austrian defense. As the first half progressed, the visitors' dominance in midfield grew, leaving Julien’s fringe players chasing shadows. Julien continued to offer words of encouragement, but the response on the pitch never came. It was hard to tell if the players simply lacked the motivation for a friendly, or if this was the hard ceiling of their current ability. The "audition" for the second-string players was turning into a quiet disappointment, proving that the gap between his starters and the reserves was wider than he had hoped.

The halftime whistle couldn't come soon enough for Julien. He didn't mince his words, delivering a scathing critique of the starting eleven’s performance. He questioned their professional pride, pointing out that an opportunity to impress shouldn't be wasted with such a  display. For Julien, there were no "meaningless" games, and he made sure those on the pitch felt the weight of their complacency.

True to the pre-match plan, but with an added edge of urgency, he signaled for the mass substitution. The "fringe" players remained in the dressing room, while the best eleven readied themselves for the second half. As the likes of Vandermersch, Okoroji, and Neziri took to the field, the energy in the stadium shifted instantly. Julien stood at the edge of the technical area, his arms folded, watching closely. 

Then, exactly what the nearly 6,000 St. Gallen faithful had been waiting for unfolded. Within the very first minute of the second half, the atmosphere changed; Christian Witzig threaded a precise pass through the heart of the defense to Kevin Vogt, who made no mistake and clinicaly slotted home the equalizer. The home side gradually seized total control. Unlike the first half, the crosses from both flanks were now dangerous, though the most decisive action once again originated from the left. Chima Okoroji put on a masterclass of playmaking from the fullback position, first releasing Witzig in the 65th minute, and then playing a perfectly timed ball to Vogt just two minutes later. Both opportunities were converted with ruthless efficiency, surging St. Gallen into a 3 -1 lead.

The final twenty minutes passed without any further action to be mentioned, as the Austrian visitors struggled to find a response to the hosts' renewed intensity. Julien watched from the sidelines, satisfied but contemplative. As the final whistle blew, he knew he had his answers. The gap in quality was clear, but the strength of his core group was undeniable.

By the time Julien finally headed back to the hotel, it was  nine o'clock. The adrenaline of the comeback victory had begun to fade, replaced by a deep, satisfying exhaustion. Rather than retreating straight to his room, he decided to reward himself for the long day's work. He treated himself to a fine dinner in the hotel’s restaurant, savoring the quiet atmosphere and a meal that was a world away from the "fucking awful" coffee of the other day.

As he finished his wine, he felt a sense of professional clarity. The match against Austria Vienna had confirmed his suspicions about the squad's depth. “Perhaps I need to be even more ruthless with the summer signings,” he thought, staring at the ceiling. The friendly had exposed a harsh truth: the second string was dangerously weak. While the starters flourished, the gap behind them was huge. However, he knew that at a club like St. Gallen, you couldn’t simply stock the dressing room with twenty superstars. It was about finding players who were better than what he currently had, but who were also willing to fight for their spot without breaking the bank or destroying the team's wage structure. Luckily, there was plenty of time to think about this.

Shortly after finishing his meal, he headed upstairs and went straight to sleep, finally drifting off with the peaceful confidence of a man who knew exactly where his team stood.

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April 23rd, 2026

Thursday morning, Julien was back at his desk, ready to tackle the next phase of his squad audit: the central midfield. It was a crowded department with seven players fighting for their spot, but Julien’s previous sessions had already started to clear the fog. Noah Probst was already a ghost in his mind, his expiring contract a signal for an inevitable summer exit. He then revisited Behar Neziri and Carlo Boukhalfa, whom he had initially evaluated for the defensive midfielder role. Neziri, the 23-year-old Albanian, would likely remain assigned to the deeper defensive role where his bite was most effective. Boukhalfa, however, would be pushed a line further forward. At 26, the German possessed the balance and passing range that Julien felt were better suited for the heart of the central midfield rather than just sitting in front of the defense. He was stiil undecided about Corsin Konietzke's future. Will he be loaned out, or kept around the first team

That left three major names on the list: Lukas Daschner, Christian Witzig, and the captain, Lukas Görtler. 

Julien saw Witzig as a left winger, so he didn't really consider the 25 years old for this position.

The situation with Lukas Daschner was more of a financial opportunity. With Middlesbrough showing serious interest for the summer, Julien was tempted to let the 27-year-old German move to the Championship. Daschner was technically sound—capable of playing as an attacking midfielder and dropping back when the team lost possession—but Julien believed the transfer fee could be reinvested to bring in someone even more dynamic.

Then there was the Görtler enigma. The captain was the undisputed engine of the team, but he was also the club's financial heavyweight. Earning £17,000 per week, he was paid more than one and a half times as much as anyone else in the squad. Julien respected his leadership, but he couldn't ignore the lack of versatility; Görtler was a specialist, not a hybrid player. Balancing the captain’s immense influence in the dressing room against his massive impact on the wage bill was becoming Julien’s most complex puzzle yet. Julien didn't want his other players to become unsettled because of Görtler's wages, but the captain was his best player.

The verdict on the midfield engine room was finally set, and Julien felt a sense of order returning to his tactical whiteboard. The decisions were clear, even if some were difficult. Noah Probst was definitively on his way out, his departure clearing both space and wages for the future. Behar Neziri was reassigned as a primary defensive midfielder, tasked with anchoring the team from a deeper position.

For the central midfield starting duo, Julien placed his trust in Carlo Boukhalfa and the captain, Lukas Görtler. It was a pairing of stability and raw energy. Meanwhile, Christian Witzig will mainly be used on the left wing. The 19-year-old Corsin Konietzke remained the only uncertainty; Julien still hadn't decided whether a loan move or a role as a substitute was better for the boy's development.

The biggest move, however, concerned Lukas Daschner. Julien had decided that if a suitable offer arrived from Middlesbrough or elsewhere, St. Gallen would sell. The plan was to reinvest that money into a new, more dynamic arrival—someone who could seamlessly transition between a central and an attacking midfield role. Additionally, Julien identified the need for one more player for this department, potentially a loan signing to serve as a reliable "12th man" for the long season ahead.

With no further meetings scheduled for the day, Julien spent the remainder of the day exactly where he felt most at home: out on the training pitch. Under the brightening St. Gallen sky, he joined his coaching staff and the players.

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