This is NOT a satire

I hail from the sunny island of Lyonpura, where chewing gum in public places is banned, and you can be fined for smoking in public places.

I started my professional career at Nationale Sevilla F.C at the tender age of 18, after I finished my A Levels. Shortly after signing for them, I was shipped off to one of Nationale Sevilla's feeder clubs located on a sunny island off the coast of Lyonpura to begin my footballing education. Nationale Sevilla's footballing education is renowned throughout the country for being a traditional rite-of-passage for any young aspiring male footballer.

My loan spell at the feeder club was short, and a rather mixed one. Following which, I was snapped up by Athletico Olympia, one of the elite clubs playing in the League of Champions. Athletico Olympia's stadium is called Mount Olympus, and is located in the district of Grease.

Upon arrival, I was told that Olympia was like a big family, where everybody helped each other out. The irony was that the coaches would complain (on an almost daily basis) about the manager. Mud-slinging, cursing and name-calling (all behind each other's back) were quite commonplace.

I told the club's management on my very 1st day there that I would be late for training often because I stayed in the outskirts of the city, and unlike the rest of the players in Athletico Olympia (or gods in Mount Olympus, for that matter), I was not earning nearly enough to buy a fancy Porche, Bentley, BMW or Audi to drive to work. As such, I often relied on public transport, and due to Grease's often jammed highways, I was often late for training.

The management was unhappy and often fined me my week's wages. They also resorted to draconian and unreasonable methods of punishment, like dropping me to the bench even though I was the best player by far in training. When I complained to the press about my ill-treatment, they forced me to play in the reserves and told me that I would rot there unless I kept my mouth shut.

I was always going to be just another statistic at Olympia. The manager would frequently complain about the current crop of players, and constantly compared us to players from the club's "glorious period" - in the days when Olympia won the League of Champions 9 times.

Even though I had the support of the club physiotheraphist and medical staff regarding my recurring back injury, the manager refused to believe them and insisted that I was skiving. The coaches would often complain to the manager about my perceived deficiencies during training. The manager, in turn, would threaten me with extra training sessions, which would rob me of precious time with my friends and family.

There was once when I was late for training (again..), I took a cab down, and despite the exorbitant fare - which would already have served as a fine for 1 day's worth of wages, they still insisted that I was at fault - and forced me to attend extra training sessions with the reserves.

Also, there was another incident when I went out for a stroll with a team-mate (who would leave for the American MLS shortly after) without informing the manager. Upon finding out, the manager was furious and questioned my commitment to training & the club.

I had enough. I saw the medical staff and requested for a letter stating that the long distances from my home to Mount Olympus were too long, and was unnecessarily exacerbating my injury. And that should it continue, it may render me unable to play for the rest of my life. The injury was career threatening. The club then agreed to my transfer request and allowed me to leave for free based on the bosman ruling. I bear no anathema towards Olympia's management, but I knew my position there was untenable. I would either leave on my own terms, or they would have made me rot in the reserves. In a sense, I jumped before I was pushed.

On my last day at the club, I was scolded by the manager for "failing to clean up the dressing room the day before", even though it was somebody else's responsibility. It seemed that they were still out to get my goat even though they knew I was leaving.

3 days after I left Olympia on mutual consent, I was signed by their cross-city rivals - Logarithm de Arithmetic F.C on a season-long contract. At last, I was free of Athletico Olympia's poisonous dressing room. 3 months after leaving Olympia, I gave an interview to the press. Naturally, the press coverage about Olympia was negative, and Olympia then threatened to sue me. After several heated exchanges between our Legal representatives, Olympia agreed to drop the case. They hadn't given up on trying to get back at me!

Since then, my form has been steadily increasing, and I am loving life at Logarithmic. I am alot fitter than I ever was during my time at Olympia, and I rarely miss trainings since I'm hardly injured nowadays. I was recently voted the club's player of the month in March, and if the rumours in the dressing room are to be believed, I may well be on my way to winning it again. The training sessions are at the right pace, with sufficient time allocated for self-practice.

Logarithmic treats it's players well and rewards them for good performance. I attended a gala dinner in May to celebrate Logarithmic's 40th anniversary. Occasionally, the manager and coaches will take me out for a celebratory meal after we win important games, or after a particularly good training session.

My time here at Logarithm de Arithmetic F.C has been well spent. I have been able to focus on achieving my UEFA coaching badges (which I started while I was still at Olympia), which will aid me in my future career after my playing days are over. To this date, I have finished 6 of the 14 requirements for the coaching badge, and will be clearing another 3 this December.

As much as I am enjoying my career here at Logarithm de Arithmetic, the life-span of a professional footballer in Lyonpura is not long. I will be heading to the National University of Lyonpura next year to earn a Bachelor of Arts Degree (in political science and/or economics) once my contract here expires on 22nd January 2010.

My name is Lucas Charlton, and for now, I play football.




This post is a work of fiction, and was written purely for the purpose of having a few laughs at myself and my brilliant life. This is in no way meant to be offensive towards any particular individual (unless you have ill-treated me in the past - and are feeling particularly pricked at the moment). Any resemblances to any person, dead or alive, are purely coincidental. I hope that you have enjoyed this not-so-satirical story nearly as much as I have enjoyed writing it.