A new version of Football Manager is released today, which makes this, in my house at least, a time of hushed reflection. The old era is passing away, the new era is rising up before us. Everything we knew and loved is sliding into the sea, while before us, like a mountainous country, is thrust a terrifying and exhilarating possibility. Just like every day, really, but the arrival of a new FM makes it that much clearer. Here is the past, there is the future. Eurogamer gave it a 9, but wished more had been done to fix the press conferences.
And with that, we end the ongoing saga of Pro Vercelli, or anyway we sort of end it. I’m not retiring from the team or deleting the game. I might go on playing it (I’m not rushing out to get FM2010, but then, after 14 seasons in Vercelli, I need a break), and I might even post the occasional update if anything interesting happens. In our imaginations, tomorrow is just another day at Cheers. But any new developments from this point forward will be firmly in the realm of epilogue.
Even if the story is only sort of ending, though, the appearance of FM2010 makes this a good day to look back over everything that’s happened since I first picked up FM09 and proposed to “make up some crazy stories about these little people who live inside my screen.” In the 14 seasons—5066 days, from summer 2008 to spring 2022—since ursus arctos first recommended Pro Vercelli as a possible team, we have:
But it’s not just about the numbers. It’s also about the people who contributed to making those numbers so very, very impressive. I don’t mean Walter Colombo, obviously, but everyone else, from Marco Conchione, the veteran striker who kept us afloat during that difficult first season, to Jorge Ibáñez, the high-strung lower-league genius, to our longtime mainstay Carlo Saba, to Messi of Waifhofen/Ybbs, to the ever-dependable Miguel José, to the confidence-shorn Luca Neri, to our goalkeeping coach, the dimension-hopping Oliver Kahn, to the long-serving Landry Akassou, to the tormenting Senad Ibrahimovic, to our great captain Michael Dogan, to the temperamental Teixeira, to our young stars like Paolo Martini and Riccardo Caprioli, to the affable Alexander Zech, to the Ferj—all of these tiny imaginary men played a role in our success and left a mark on our story. Today, I can even spare a fond thought for our most memorable adversaries, from the ageless Francismar to the haughty Vito Scialpi. I hated them and wanted to destroy them, and that made everything more fun.
When I introduced this series a year ago, I wrote that reviewing Football Manager was like reviewing Buddhism—you can do it, but you have to take your time. A year and a horrifying number of hours spent playing later, what continues to amaze me about this game is its ability to generate a story. The marketing and the reviews always talk about its realism, which, when we come right down to it, is nonsense—for all its depth, playing FM is nothing like managing a real football team. What the game is astonishingly good at is creating the feeling of realism, dropping you into a world that behaves both consistently and surprisingly, that’s small enough that it’s roughly comprehensible but large enough that it always seems to be vanishing at the edges. And within that world, if you pay attention and play with a little imagination, there is an endlessly unfolding narrative which you are capable of influencing but not of controlling, a story whose fantastic twists and high-stakes conflicts are more engrossing because the outcome hasn’t been planned in advance. And that, I suspect, more than the fact that it gets all of Tottenham’s roster moves down right, is why this series is so beloved. That probably tells us something about the appeal of football, too, though in another sense, the appeal of the game really isn’t about football at all.
I started the Pro Vercelli story on a whim, thinking it would be fun to write a weekly update about an FM team that treated the imaginary world as if it were as important as real life. It wound up being by far the longest (nearly 100 posts!) and by far the most popular series we’ve ever run on the site, and as far as real life went, I wasn’t the only one who ended up being as fascinated by the actual history of Pro Vercelli—learning about which was easily the most satisfying part of writing these posts—as by its imaginary FM future. So the last thing I want to do, on this day of commemoration and renewal, is to thank everyone who followed the series and delved into the world of Silvio Piola and Guido Ara with me. Spending a year exhaustively recording the exploits of a video-game soccer team would have been a significantly weirder thing to do without your support.
A follow-up project is in the works.
Read More: Football Manager 2009, Pixel Dramas, Pro Vercelli
by Brian Phillips · October 30, 2009
The Simplest Game Community
I feel so…empty. Like finishing an epic novel.
Enjoyed your journey thoroughly. However, I am amazed by the amount of time you managed to take out of your daily life for not just the game, but the articles, the videos etc. It lead me to believe you are either one of the following:
1. A student at a University,
2. A full time writer, giving you this time,
3. A brilliant time manager,
4. A stoner (which is unlikely, or well, maybe the most likely)
5. Self-employed,
6. A researcher with tenure.
I wish I had the time to devote to this game, like I used to back in my uni days. I tried with FM 09, and it’s hard these days to get into it without feeling guilty.
Richard — I believe the term you’re looking for is “spiritually enriched.”
RR — It’s amazing how much downtime there is in the life of a professional spy.
I blame/credit Pro Vercelli for causing me to relapse into my own FM addiction. I dragged Basingstoke from the Conference South to Champions’ League glory.
I even had my own Teixeira, though my version was a technical Portuguese right-back with a knack for depositing corners directly on the heads of either of my two enormous, thumping strikers. I also sold him because he was petulant and discontent, then regretted it later when it turned out that corners+technique+crossing was kind of a nice combination to have for your thumping stirkers.
Brian,
Thank you. I will forever be playing FM09 because of your posts.
Funny; I was working (and by working, I mean “started writing the other day and then discarded without a thought”) on a post articulating something a lot like what you describe in the last two paragraphs, some of which survives below.
I first tried FM several years ago, but found it deathly boring, particularly in comparison to Winning Eleven, then my video game of choice. The first several posts in the Pro Vericelli series convinced me to give it another shot, for exactly the reason you identify (narrative potential).
The narrative of a game of Football Manager is rather unlike that of most other (video) games, which typically adopt the conventions of other forms of storytelling — the novel or the comic or the film — in order to weld a story onto a game, to give pre-determined meaning and significance to the challenges the game presents. By contrast, the narrative of a game of Football Manager emerges exclusively from the gameplay itself. The game doesn’t tell you what events are significant, but, in simulating a real-world sport around which fans inevitably build narratives, it creates a world of events and decisions that one naturally strings together into a narrative. It’s an emergent narrative. That makes Football Manager a very unique game, and I’m a bit surprised that it hasn’t received more attention for that reason, though, given how very rarely I read videogame journalism (reviews of the new FIFA each year, RockPaperShotgun regularly, and not much else), maybe I’ve just missed the attention. And maybe that emergent quality and the centrality of narrative also make it a better simulation of sport than most games, which typically simulate the experience of being a participant in the sport, rather than the experience of watching a sport unfold over a lifetime — also as a series of events without predetermined meanings, to which we spectators attach narrative significance and assign moral qualities.
This all suggests to me a few important things about the right way to play Football Manager, which will require me to get dogmatic and didactic, and probably say things that aren’t strictly true:
1. You must not save and re-load your game. To do so is to attempt to assert too much control over the narrative, and will spoil the pleasure received when you achieve great things in your digital playground.
2. You must make the game challenging for yourself. I suppose this is possible with Manchester United (even United would have to work to retain the Champions League year after year), but the greater the difficulties one encounters, the more interesting the narrative will be. And so I feel fairly confident in asserting that it is simply more fun to begin the lower leagues, which is not to say that there isn’t fun to be had managing a team that starts out in a great spot, but that there isn’t as much fun to be had with Real Madrid as there is with Alcorcon.
I have a feeling that the use of re-gens would be a good third rule, but I can’t figure out quite how to defend it.
Anyways, thanks for writing the series that convinced me to try FM again; I’ve really enjoyed it.
Brian…. well done, brother, this whole Pro Vercelli story was truly epic, and I loved every little bit of it
I don’t think I’d be in the minority if I said that if these stories made it into book form, I’d gladly pay whatever amount for it
I really didn’t come onto the PV bandwagon until late into the game, but bravo for some fantastic writing.
End of an era. Thanks for the ever-rich reading, Brian.
I picked up on your Pro Vercelli story within the first couple of posts whilst looking for tips on my FM09 campaign. Needless to say I have been hooked since and must have checked runofplay pretty much every day to see if there had been an update.
An excellent story beautifully written and as others have said above it will be missed.
Thank you for your hours of entertainment over the last 12 months.
Have to agree about the book, would be well worth selling to give you time for more FM playing
I’ll look forward to the follow up project, and I would ask you to consider Como, if you were to choose an Italian team. The Lariani deserve much longed for success.
Well, it’s season-end in 2017 and i’ve just got Como into the Europa League. I’m semi on-track for your achievements, but Christ, I predict a long winding road ahead in unforgiving terrain.
Starting 11 – GK Belec, DR Agrelli, DL Capriotti, DC Di Renzi, DC Rizzo, AML S.Giovinco, AMR Burstrom, AMC Tesarik, MC Tomo, MC Balestra, ST Doroshenko.
Might I suggest Birkirkara, a Maltese side, as your next and even greater project, for FM 2010?
I never said the follow-up project was FM-related…
It’s just that I got this thing for Birkirkara ever since I managed them in an online game some years ago, and thought it would be interesting to see what you could do with an even smaller game. (No FM here, or I would give them a go myself.
)
Why would the follow up project not be FM related if the Vecelli journey was so ******* awesome?
Because the path to bold new heights of awesome does not lie in repeating the past.
Who said that, Bill or Ted?
It was Ted. But he said it in The Matrix.
it’s been a joy to follow the story of Pro Vercelli’s second period of glory. An almost emotional end with this post here. Sad to see the day come really, hope the next project will be FM related after all!
thanks for sharing this epic journey. you had me on the edge of my seat, laughing out loud and reminiscing about the weeks this game took from me in university. i found this this morning and burned through every one of your 95 posts in a day. what a great, great body of work you have here and one you could/should turn into a book!
Epic read – thanks very much for sharing.
Marc Vaughan
(Sports Interactive Ltd)
Someone posted a link to this on another board. While the game is a year old, this might be the most incredible diary I’ve read, period. Ann Frank doesn’t have shit on you.