I spent every spare moment studying. I devoured the course materials, my brain soaking up the information like a sponge.
I used the system, my secret weapon, to run simulations, to test tactical theories, to analyze player data. The new Manager's Office interface was a godsend, allowing me to visualize complex formations and player movements in a way that the static diagrams in the textbooks never could.
On Tuesday night, I was in my hotel room, laptop open, running through a tactical simulation on the system.
I was testing different approaches to breaking down a deep defensive block, experimenting with player positioning and movement patterns. The system was showing me probabilities, success rates, and potential weaknesses. It was like having a supercomputer in my head.
There was a knock on my door. I quickly minimized the system interface and opened the door. It was Graham.
"Fancy a pint?" he asked. "A few of us are heading to the bar."
