Wot no Obertan?
Let's discuss why should Rashford stay at Manchester United
- Thread starter LuckyScout78
- Start date
Contender for Post of the Year already. Who’s gonna top this?
Is this one of those AI experiments?
It took me about 12 thumb swipes to scroll down the OP. Sensational !
I swear some of the best threads are those where you don’t need to read the full OP but just the comments after.
I fecking love you @LuckyScout78 although you will never read or know this.
I swear some of the best threads are those where you don’t need to read the full OP but just the comments after.
I fecking love you @LuckyScout78 although you will never read or know this.
You wouldn't have had time to read it and read the comments, War & Peace would have been easier
Hasn't been around since Thursday. Must be writing another book.
I can't wait for the movie to come out!
I came here from the meme thread 
the sunlight tries to break through the layers of grime on the window. and how the room needs it. it’s the only source of natural light, a small, rectangular window, high up on one of the walls, the only view into the big, wide world out there. the tatty curtains do nothing to impede it.
“dawn. again” he thinks to himself. “another 24 hourer. i knew the job involved long hours but this ridiculous. long.” he pulls a paper wrapped chocolate cigarette from the packet and pretends to smoke it. he finishes the cup of decaf coffee that’s been sat on his desk for hours, the coffee rings down the mug failing to do justice to just how many times it’s been used and not washed. “time for break.” he clicks save and walks towards the window.
the room is slowly bathed with the sound of footsteps thundering past as people begin their days above. “wasting life in rat race.” he takes a long draw on the chocolate cigarette and listens to the mumbled conversations of people waiting for the bus.
“did you see rashford last night? unbelievable.”
“yeah but i’m worried that he’s just drifting though games and sprinkling the odd bit of magic here and there. he’s had hot streaks before and then blown cold. part of me thinks we should sell him whilst his stock is crazy high and reinvest elsewhere. ten hag still needs to rebuild and money seems tight.”
his eyes widen “fool! his performance only drop when the performance of the collective isn’t. when the collective performs, the individual (rashford) performs!” he thinks to himself, snapping his cigarette in frustration. he looks down at the torn paper, the chocolate begins melting on his fingers. “bad habit, must give up.
he’d always loved football. like for many, football became, and has remained an escape from it all. that started in his teens. they were difficult years, largely because just how much smarter he was about football than his peers. girls didn’t understand him either. he was never going to contemplate slipping a digit in a girl who didn’t understand that even if a head coach pick and choose a another player over you. it doesn’t mean he is 100 % sure he is better or has a higher level than you.
existing on this higher plane meant forging relationships was tough but it guaranteed a job in football. he could have done anything in football, except play it. his understanding of the intricacies of the beautiful game ensured he could have coached, managed, directed. he choose to scout. he choose to ensure the next generation of talent didn’t slip through the gaps. and he was good at it. if a player was 24ish or under and banging in some goals at an unfancied team in one of the top 5 leagues, he’d think to himself “that must be tidy player. probably attainable to big collective. united city pool.”
the job just came naturally to him. he’d been doing it for years at this point. it had began to take its toll though. still light years away from his peers, still working those incredibly long hours, uncovering known gems. the sound of a bus horn and the driver calling someone a wanker dragged him out of his train of thought. “time to get back work for 15 minute, then sleep,” he returned to his desk.
“serie a, under 25, striker,” he mumbles to himself before clicking “scout.” “it doesn’t get any easier.” he says to himself, before decking back in his chair. now we just click next a few times and wait to see what comes back. the life of an currently unattached but definite top european scout isn’t as glamorous as most would suggest.
“can you flush shite! i smell it here. in kitchen! you filthy animal. you been up night on computer again? your computer take if you keep. stupid football manager 21. get it together this year. you 37 and still no job, no girlfriend, living in basement, unflushing shit.”
his mother, just another one not on his wavelength. his genius, unrecognised in his time. “thank god for redcafe,” he smiled, “most of them there are just like me.” “time to go and not discuss rashford.”
“dawn. again” he thinks to himself. “another 24 hourer. i knew the job involved long hours but this ridiculous. long.” he pulls a paper wrapped chocolate cigarette from the packet and pretends to smoke it. he finishes the cup of decaf coffee that’s been sat on his desk for hours, the coffee rings down the mug failing to do justice to just how many times it’s been used and not washed. “time for break.” he clicks save and walks towards the window.
the room is slowly bathed with the sound of footsteps thundering past as people begin their days above. “wasting life in rat race.” he takes a long draw on the chocolate cigarette and listens to the mumbled conversations of people waiting for the bus.
“did you see rashford last night? unbelievable.”
“yeah but i’m worried that he’s just drifting though games and sprinkling the odd bit of magic here and there. he’s had hot streaks before and then blown cold. part of me thinks we should sell him whilst his stock is crazy high and reinvest elsewhere. ten hag still needs to rebuild and money seems tight.”
his eyes widen “fool! his performance only drop when the performance of the collective isn’t. when the collective performs, the individual (rashford) performs!” he thinks to himself, snapping his cigarette in frustration. he looks down at the torn paper, the chocolate begins melting on his fingers. “bad habit, must give up.
he’d always loved football. like for many, football became, and has remained an escape from it all. that started in his teens. they were difficult years, largely because just how much smarter he was about football than his peers. girls didn’t understand him either. he was never going to contemplate slipping a digit in a girl who didn’t understand that even if a head coach pick and choose a another player over you. it doesn’t mean he is 100 % sure he is better or has a higher level than you.
existing on this higher plane meant forging relationships was tough but it guaranteed a job in football. he could have done anything in football, except play it. his understanding of the intricacies of the beautiful game ensured he could have coached, managed, directed. he choose to scout. he choose to ensure the next generation of talent didn’t slip through the gaps. and he was good at it. if a player was 24ish or under and banging in some goals at an unfancied team in one of the top 5 leagues, he’d think to himself “that must be tidy player. probably attainable to big collective. united city pool.”
the job just came naturally to him. he’d been doing it for years at this point. it had began to take its toll though. still light years away from his peers, still working those incredibly long hours, uncovering known gems. the sound of a bus horn and the driver calling someone a wanker dragged him out of his train of thought. “time to get back work for 15 minute, then sleep,” he returned to his desk.
“serie a, under 25, striker,” he mumbles to himself before clicking “scout.” “it doesn’t get any easier.” he says to himself, before decking back in his chair. now we just click next a few times and wait to see what comes back. the life of an currently unattached but definite top european scout isn’t as glamorous as most would suggest.
“can you flush shite! i smell it here. in kitchen! you filthy animal. you been up night on computer again? your computer take if you keep. stupid football manager 21. get it together this year. you 37 and still no job, no girlfriend, living in basement, unflushing shit.”
his mother, just another one not on his wavelength. his genius, unrecognised in his time. “thank god for redcafe,” he smiled, “most of them there are just like me.” “time to go and not discuss rashford.”
@LuckyScout78 was the creator of "The Bloody Board" Back in 2010.
Big fan of when the ‘journalists’ from toilet papers are called out.
It was from the daily star as well ffs, anyone taking any info from them seriously needs to give their head a wobble
i think the only credible information there is the date