By Tony Mogan It’s 3:37 am. I’ve been sat in this dark room, hunched over my laptop, eyes fixated on the screen for coming up to seven hours now. I’m exhausted, weighed down by stress and apprehension, wondering what the hell I’m going to do. I have to be up for university in four hours and I know, despite the optimism that whirled around my weary mind earlier, that I haven’t gone it in me to pull this off. I shouldn’t leave things until the last minute. Whatever I do now, it won’t make a difference. A last minute attempt to thrash out an essay for university with the deadline looming? No. Try a Champions League semi final. I’m on the brink of exiting the tournament on away goals. I should have taken off Andrey Arshavin and brought on Theo Walcott earlier. There’s not enough time left for him to make an impact now…. I feel betrayed. After all this time, you’re leaving? It just doesn’t make sense. We’ve had our problems, sure, but we’ve always managed to sort them out in the end. I’ve been patient and understanding when you haven’t been yourself, and you have been there to lift my spirits in my darkest hour. I’m devastated, I can’t even think about replacing you, and where to start looking is something I can’t answer. I just can’t believe it. I just want an explanation. Someone else has turned your head, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. After six fruitful seasons, why, why Romelu Lukaku, why have you put in a transfer request? Football and emotion are inexorably linked. And the case is the same for the simple, yet compulsive universe of Football Manager. It takes over lives through marathon playing sessions that can stretch for days. It pushes relationships to their limit, makes the concept of failed A Levels & university degrees a terrifyingly real one, mercilessly throws you in the bad books with your boss and will have you well versed in relentless swearing and bursts of incandescent rage. It captures a full spectrum of scarily genuine emotion. Unparalleled bliss felt when clinching that first Premier League title with Southampton following an unprecedented rise through the leagues, or the sheer despair and devastation when your much-loved Paraguayan striker, whose development you have personally oversaw, refuses to sign a new contract, and casually hops along to the dizzying heights of… Tottenham Hotspur. Explain these scenarios to a non-believer and you would be met with concerned looks, perhaps followed by a suggestion to ‘seek help’. Spending your summer evening frantically trying to convince Diomansy Kamara to join your struggling Scunthorpe side on some computer game? You would have to be....continued at The Life Of A Football Manager Addict