I decided today to finaly start a new FM2005-game and not "just" a game: it will be my mission to wipe SL Benfica from the face of this earth, for once and for all. Within a margin of maximum 5 years I want them to end up in Divisão 2BS (the lowest you can get in the game) and to financialy ruin them. Expect updates every 2 or 3 days. Hints and tips are always welcome!
Let this story speak for itself, sit back and enjoy the ride...:
July 2005, Estadio da Luz, Lisbon
Trapatoni brought the first Portuguese title in 10 years back to the trophy cabinet in Lisbon. He did well, had full support of fans and SAD (board of directors) and was enjoying a well-earned holiday in the Algarves. It was there that things went bad for the Italian: it started with forgetting the name of his wife, kids and dog (not that they had a dog but still...). Then came the day he woke up from his siesta in great panic: God (or those 3 bottles of Port) spoke to him in dreams, telling Trap to leave this godforsaken country and head for his true love, Germany. That day he started packing, called Luis Filipe Vieira to quit his job (caretaker or whatever he did in that big building) and went for his Promised Land (after ending up in Sweden ("All blonde people with blue eyes. This must be the new Germany.") and praising "die Arischen Bratwursten"). We have no clue whatever happened to him, nor do his wife and kids who were forgotten in Portugal and have no idea on the where-abouts of "my desillusioned husband".
The news of Trap's parting with the club was a hard one to swallow for LFV (Luis Filipe Vieira/president of SL
. He was alone in his office (or like the sign on his door says: "Estadio da Luz Public Toilets"), pondering on the situation at hand. His besterest friend Jose Veiga had already started telephoning around with possible replacements: Hitzfeld, Le Guen, Camacho, Octavio Machado... They all had a good laugh when asked to replace Trapatoni. It was at that moment that both LFV and Veiga were planning to contact Ronald Koeman, when the door swung open with a loud bang and the last toilet was flushed (causing a drum rolling effect/which LFV thought was rather cool). There stood, embraced by an aura of light and sigar smoke... I, Kris Davus, the next coach of Benfica.
One problem: I've already coached FC Porto for a few years, having won every national cup and title and one CL, thus I was bound to be recognised. Therefor, I had ingeniusly camouflaged myself as a Mexican: fake moustache, sombrero that was to large to fit in the door-hole, a nice shiny gold tooth, enough jewelry to clear the African debt with, an enormous cigar and my sixth bottle of Tequila. Clearly I was ready to go for it.
"Ola, hombres!"
Both LFV and Veiga were flabbergasted, looking at me dumb-eyed.
"Who have we the honour to speak to?" they asked with trembling voice.
"Mi nombre es Cerveza Corona de Sombrero Jupiler."
"Well, senhor de Sombrero Jupiler, what brings you to my grand office?"
"I like to become next coach Benfrico..." I exclaimed with double tongue and while offering my bottle to both gentlemen. They did not hesitate to take a *large* sip.
"You mean "Benfica"," Veiga corrected.
"Yes, them too."
"So, why should we hire you, senhor?"
"Me is cheap and me have big moustache," I said with pride. "Very good qualities, senhores. Very good moustache..."
This was to the liking of both gentlemen and I could feel their success-horny eyes trying to pull me in.
"What other clubs have you managed already, senhor de Sombrero Jupiler?"
"FC Sint-Katelijne Waver's Rozenkrans, De Retie SuperStarz, SKVC Oud-Heverlee en Ver Daarbuiten... And Boca Juniors."
The thought alone (and prolly the tequila too) made me grin of happiness.
"Wow," LFV said delighted. "You actualy coached the Youth team from Boca *wherever that may be*?"
[Little Britain's Scottish inn keeper voice]"Yeeeeessss..."[/Little Britain's Scottish inn keeper voice]
"Well then, senhor. Because of your cheapness, huge resume and moustache we cannot decide otherwise than to hire you as the new coach of SL Benfica! Welcome on board!"
We all started to jump around girlishly, drank another two bottles of tequila and fell asleep on one of the toilets. The destruction can commence, but first I have to make a good impression at the press conference tomorrow *big evilish grin*
Let this story speak for itself, sit back and enjoy the ride...:
July 2005, Estadio da Luz, Lisbon
Trapatoni brought the first Portuguese title in 10 years back to the trophy cabinet in Lisbon. He did well, had full support of fans and SAD (board of directors) and was enjoying a well-earned holiday in the Algarves. It was there that things went bad for the Italian: it started with forgetting the name of his wife, kids and dog (not that they had a dog but still...). Then came the day he woke up from his siesta in great panic: God (or those 3 bottles of Port) spoke to him in dreams, telling Trap to leave this godforsaken country and head for his true love, Germany. That day he started packing, called Luis Filipe Vieira to quit his job (caretaker or whatever he did in that big building) and went for his Promised Land (after ending up in Sweden ("All blonde people with blue eyes. This must be the new Germany.") and praising "die Arischen Bratwursten"). We have no clue whatever happened to him, nor do his wife and kids who were forgotten in Portugal and have no idea on the where-abouts of "my desillusioned husband".
The news of Trap's parting with the club was a hard one to swallow for LFV (Luis Filipe Vieira/president of SL
. He was alone in his office (or like the sign on his door says: "Estadio da Luz Public Toilets"), pondering on the situation at hand. His besterest friend Jose Veiga had already started telephoning around with possible replacements: Hitzfeld, Le Guen, Camacho, Octavio Machado... They all had a good laugh when asked to replace Trapatoni. It was at that moment that both LFV and Veiga were planning to contact Ronald Koeman, when the door swung open with a loud bang and the last toilet was flushed (causing a drum rolling effect/which LFV thought was rather cool). There stood, embraced by an aura of light and sigar smoke... I, Kris Davus, the next coach of Benfica.One problem: I've already coached FC Porto for a few years, having won every national cup and title and one CL, thus I was bound to be recognised. Therefor, I had ingeniusly camouflaged myself as a Mexican: fake moustache, sombrero that was to large to fit in the door-hole, a nice shiny gold tooth, enough jewelry to clear the African debt with, an enormous cigar and my sixth bottle of Tequila. Clearly I was ready to go for it.
"Ola, hombres!"
Both LFV and Veiga were flabbergasted, looking at me dumb-eyed.
"Who have we the honour to speak to?" they asked with trembling voice.
"Mi nombre es Cerveza Corona de Sombrero Jupiler."
"Well, senhor de Sombrero Jupiler, what brings you to my grand office?"
"I like to become next coach Benfrico..." I exclaimed with double tongue and while offering my bottle to both gentlemen. They did not hesitate to take a *large* sip.
"You mean "Benfica"," Veiga corrected.
"Yes, them too."
"So, why should we hire you, senhor?"
"Me is cheap and me have big moustache," I said with pride. "Very good qualities, senhores. Very good moustache..."
This was to the liking of both gentlemen and I could feel their success-horny eyes trying to pull me in.
"What other clubs have you managed already, senhor de Sombrero Jupiler?"
"FC Sint-Katelijne Waver's Rozenkrans, De Retie SuperStarz, SKVC Oud-Heverlee en Ver Daarbuiten... And Boca Juniors."
The thought alone (and prolly the tequila too) made me grin of happiness.
"Wow," LFV said delighted. "You actualy coached the Youth team from Boca *wherever that may be*?"
[Little Britain's Scottish inn keeper voice]"Yeeeeessss..."[/Little Britain's Scottish inn keeper voice]
"Well then, senhor. Because of your cheapness, huge resume and moustache we cannot decide otherwise than to hire you as the new coach of SL Benfica! Welcome on board!"
We all started to jump around girlishly, drank another two bottles of tequila and fell asleep on one of the toilets. The destruction can commence, but first I have to make a good impression at the press conference tomorrow *big evilish grin*
