The email from FC Vaduz was so polite, so formal, and so utterly, completely desperate that Leon had to read it three times before his brain could actually process it.
[...We have just qualified for the Europa Conference League. This is a disaster... We are, to be blunt, terrified. We need a manager who is... a little bit insane... Please. We are desperate.]
He stared at the words, a slow, disbelieving, and slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up in his chest.
A professional football club was officially, in writing, panicking.
And they were panicking so hard, they had decided their only solution was to hire an eighteen-year-old manager from the seventh tier of English football.
It was, without a doubt, the greatest job offer he had ever received.
He was still laughing when his phone exploded with an incoming call, the caller ID simply reading "MARCO - DOOMSDAY ". He braced himself and answered.
