ShiftyPowers
Make America Great Again
The summer of 2011 was a rough one for Manchester United. Although there were a few young signings, the club did not look to get significantly better and the fingers were all pointed at Malcolm Glazer. It was obvious to everyone that he is trying to take as much money out of the club and into his pockets as he possibly can, and the team was suffering for it. Oh sure, they reached the Champions League Final in May, but that was largely seen as a fluke and a last hoorah. The Glazers were beginning plans to take the club public in a completely dishonest way to pad their pockets without relinquishing any control of the club. Unfortunately, they made it clear to Sir Alex Ferguson that he would not be one of the senior employees to get a huge cash bonus from this sale, and that was it for the red nosed Scotsman. He resigned in a huff, and Malcolm Glazer was left in a tough situation.
He realized very quickly that Ferguson towing the company line for years was the only reason the fans did not turn their full fury on him. He would need to make a splash hiring for the new manager who could win immediately. He also needed a company man who would tolerate the greedy ownership style that Glazer fully intended to continue.
He met with Rafa Benitez and Jose Mourinho, but the financial limitations made the job completely unattractive to them. He met with Brendan Rogers and Andre Vilas Boas, but felt like they were not experienced enough to win right away. He even placed a call to Ottmar Hitzfeld, who said he was done managing clubs and was content to drink lattes in Switzerland.
While pondering over the future and wondering if his perfect candidate even existed, his personal assistant buzzed into his office.
“Jose Cruyff to see you, sir”
“Who?”
“Jose Cruyff? Is that what you said you name was? […] That’s what his name is sir, he said he is here to interview for the managerial position.”
Malcolm Glazer did not have any interviews scheduled for the day, although this new name sounded awfully familiar. Figuring he must have forgot about the interview, or that this was a real go-getter trying to seize an opportunity, Glazer decided to “let him in.”
A minute later, a 6-foot man wearing an immaculately tailored suit with a Dutch flag blazer patch adorning the chest pocket sauntered into the office, looked Malcolm Glazer dead in the eye, firmly shook his hand, and said in a bafflingly unique accent “Jose Cruyff. Nice to meet you Mr. Glazer.”
“Well it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Cruyff. That name is awfully familiar, do I know you from somewhere?”
“I don’t think we have met sir, but I am the son of Jose Mourinho and Chantal Cruyff, the daughter of Johan Cruyff. My mother was very young when she gave birth to me, so it was covered up, but my family has made sure that I got the very best football education. I have learned for years under my father and grandfather, soaking up everything they have to say like a sponge. I think I have a lot to offer, and I would like to offer it to Manchester United.”
Malcolm Glazer was stunned silent. This couldn’t be real, but if it was… And the face stubble and excessive use of cologne certainly was evidence that this man was Portuguese, even if his accent was unusual.
“Mr. Cruyff, you must excuse me for being a little wary, but this is the most impossible thing I have ever heard. If what you are saying is true, you will also understand that I am concerned you might be very headstrong. What I need is a manager to take orders.”
“I completely understand that, in fact that is why I came here. I don’t have the dynamic personality of the rest of my family and I need someone above me. My family’s reputation has proceeded me everywhere, but I would much prefer to have limits set for me; plus I know what a chance you would be taking on me, so I would be immensely appreciative if you took this chance and appointed me manager.”
“We will let you know in a few days, naturally I’ll have to check up on your story.”
“Of course. Here is a list of references including my father and grandfather and other top managers I have served on staff with and learned from.”
Glazer called the references and spoke with several people who claimed to be giants in the world of football. Johan Cruyff, Jose Mourinho, Marco Bielsa all gave glowing reviews of the prodigy. To make sure he was not being played, Glazer took to google, and found several references to Jose Cruyff across the Wikipedia pages of all the people he claimed to have worked with. Glazer was set to take a chance.
“Alright Jose” he said into the phone, “you’re hired. Be at the club tomorrow at 9am and we will announce you to the press. Hope you have thick skin.”
“The thickest sir.”
I am Jose Cruyff. Well, okay I’m not. I’m impersonating him and made up a fake back story to get the Manchester United job. I hate Manchester United and I will be relegating them this year. And next year, and the year after that, until they are playing Sunday League games at Old Trafford. On the way, I will be destroying the careers and legacies of despicable United Legends like Giggs, Scholes, and Rooney.
He realized very quickly that Ferguson towing the company line for years was the only reason the fans did not turn their full fury on him. He would need to make a splash hiring for the new manager who could win immediately. He also needed a company man who would tolerate the greedy ownership style that Glazer fully intended to continue.
He met with Rafa Benitez and Jose Mourinho, but the financial limitations made the job completely unattractive to them. He met with Brendan Rogers and Andre Vilas Boas, but felt like they were not experienced enough to win right away. He even placed a call to Ottmar Hitzfeld, who said he was done managing clubs and was content to drink lattes in Switzerland.
While pondering over the future and wondering if his perfect candidate even existed, his personal assistant buzzed into his office.
“Jose Cruyff to see you, sir”
“Who?”
“Jose Cruyff? Is that what you said you name was? […] That’s what his name is sir, he said he is here to interview for the managerial position.”
Malcolm Glazer did not have any interviews scheduled for the day, although this new name sounded awfully familiar. Figuring he must have forgot about the interview, or that this was a real go-getter trying to seize an opportunity, Glazer decided to “let him in.”
A minute later, a 6-foot man wearing an immaculately tailored suit with a Dutch flag blazer patch adorning the chest pocket sauntered into the office, looked Malcolm Glazer dead in the eye, firmly shook his hand, and said in a bafflingly unique accent “Jose Cruyff. Nice to meet you Mr. Glazer.”
“Well it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Cruyff. That name is awfully familiar, do I know you from somewhere?”
“I don’t think we have met sir, but I am the son of Jose Mourinho and Chantal Cruyff, the daughter of Johan Cruyff. My mother was very young when she gave birth to me, so it was covered up, but my family has made sure that I got the very best football education. I have learned for years under my father and grandfather, soaking up everything they have to say like a sponge. I think I have a lot to offer, and I would like to offer it to Manchester United.”
Malcolm Glazer was stunned silent. This couldn’t be real, but if it was… And the face stubble and excessive use of cologne certainly was evidence that this man was Portuguese, even if his accent was unusual.
“Mr. Cruyff, you must excuse me for being a little wary, but this is the most impossible thing I have ever heard. If what you are saying is true, you will also understand that I am concerned you might be very headstrong. What I need is a manager to take orders.”
“I completely understand that, in fact that is why I came here. I don’t have the dynamic personality of the rest of my family and I need someone above me. My family’s reputation has proceeded me everywhere, but I would much prefer to have limits set for me; plus I know what a chance you would be taking on me, so I would be immensely appreciative if you took this chance and appointed me manager.”
“We will let you know in a few days, naturally I’ll have to check up on your story.”
“Of course. Here is a list of references including my father and grandfather and other top managers I have served on staff with and learned from.”
Glazer called the references and spoke with several people who claimed to be giants in the world of football. Johan Cruyff, Jose Mourinho, Marco Bielsa all gave glowing reviews of the prodigy. To make sure he was not being played, Glazer took to google, and found several references to Jose Cruyff across the Wikipedia pages of all the people he claimed to have worked with. Glazer was set to take a chance.
“Alright Jose” he said into the phone, “you’re hired. Be at the club tomorrow at 9am and we will announce you to the press. Hope you have thick skin.”
“The thickest sir.”
I am Jose Cruyff. Well, okay I’m not. I’m impersonating him and made up a fake back story to get the Manchester United job. I hate Manchester United and I will be relegating them this year. And next year, and the year after that, until they are playing Sunday League games at Old Trafford. On the way, I will be destroying the careers and legacies of despicable United Legends like Giggs, Scholes, and Rooney.
Sol Campbell got sent off 
