July 2000 – Nottingham and beyond
The moment the announcement hit the wires, the country had opinions.
"20-YEAR-OLD TAKES FULL CONTROL OF NOTTS COUNTY" — Nottingham Evening Post, "Ashford Family Bet the Future on Their Son" — BBC Radio Nottingham, "Football's First Owner-Coach?" — The Guardian.
It was all anyone could talk about in Nottingham pubs, barbershops, and corner stores.
"James Ashford? From the Ashford Family? That lad from the U16 squad?!"
"Same one. Assisted a banger against Lincoln in the final, didn't he?"
"Aye, but owning the whole club? Managing it? That's a bit rich—even for the Ashfords."
"Say what you want; they've done more for this city than half the councils combined."
"It's mad... but if anyone's got the brains to do it, it's young James."
The news landed harder inside Meadow Lane, especially in the dressing room.
Darren Caskey, the seasoned midfielder, tossed the newspaper on the bench. "Owner and gaffer in one? Bit much, innit?"
Gary Owers, the voice of calm, leaned forward. "He's no stranger to this club. Trained here. Played here. Might surprise us."
Liam Chilvers shrugged. "He's younger than some of us. That's weird, but I've seen him coach youth sessions. He knows his stuff."
Not everyone was so measured.
A fringe winger—one whose name wouldn't stay on the team sheet much longer—muttered, "This is a joke. I didn't sign here to be bossed around by a trust fund kid."
The locker room split in two: skeptics and silent believers.
Over in the dugouts of the Third Division, managers were less reserved.
Brian Talbot of Rushden & Diamonds scoffed in an interview, "Football's not something you learn in a lecture hall. You've got to feel it. Bleed for it."
David Hodgson of Darlington added, "Every club has its methods. We'll see if the Ashfords work. I'm not betting on it."
But not all were dismissive. Keith Alexander of Lincoln City offered a measured take: "The game's evolving. Maybe a fresh mind isn't the worst thing. Time will tell."
Up the ladder in the Premier League, veteran voices weighed in.
Harry Redknapp, never one to hold back, said, "Fair play to the lad. But League Two's no playground. The older boys won't go easy on him."
Alan Curbishley of Charlton Athletic said, "Look, it's ambitious. Brave, even. But this is a results business. He'll need more than vision."
Some fans saw hope. Others saw a headline waiting to implode. The old guard scoffed. A few nodded with curiosity.
But one thing was undeniable:
Everyone was watching.
Later that week – Meadow Lane Boardroom
The Ashfords sat around the newly repurposed executive table, its varnish still gleaming from a recent polish. Eleanor, now operating as the club's interim CEO, had commandeered the head seat, tablet in hand and an espresso within reach. James sat across, flipping through a leather-bound notebook filled with diagrams, formations, and shortlists.
Eleanor tapped the screen.
"Let's get the boring but essential stuff out of the way," she said. "You've got the Football. I'll run the business."
James smirked. "That's what you said when we built the lemonade stand."
"And it worked, didn't it? We outsold the Scouts," she shot back. "Now, here's the situation."
She pushed a printed chart toward him.
"Finance, operations, and HR were technically staffed, just not to the standard we need. I let most of them go. The club secretary is part-time, the marketing rep is used to design posters, and the medical rep is a single-contract physio. We need the right admin spine before we can scale," Eleanor said. "So I'll handle recruitment for the following: Finance Lead, HR Manager, Commercial Director, PR Officer, Club Secretary, and a basic legal advisor on retainer. This is Phase One."
"Any concerns about the budget?" James asked.
"We're not Real Madrid, but we're not broke either. I'll keep costs lean and tie contracts to milestones."
James nodded slowly. "Smart. Alright then... my turn."
He flipped to a new page in his notebook.
"The coaching side needs a rebuild. Here's who I'll need to look at: an Assistant Coach, a Goalkeeping Coach, a Fitness Coach, and an Academy Development Lead. Maybe a few. I'll shortlist candidates and start interviews this week."
Eleanor tilted her head. "You'll do it manually?"
He hesitated for half a second. "Let's just say I have... methods."
She narrowed her eyes and gave him a pout. "You and your secrets. As long as it works."
James just grinned cheekily. "It will."
Eleanor stood, collecting her tablet. "Then it's settled. I'll be the temporary CEO until we get this house in order. You handle the pitch. I'll handle the payroll."
James stood, too. "Just make sure there's enough in the budget for a whiteboard."
She rolled her eyes. "You'll get your whiteboard, Coach."
They exchanged a look — siblings ready to take the world by storm. The lines were drawn.
The rebuild had begun.
Later that night – Ashford Residence, Study Room
The house was quiet. A soft breeze drifted in through the half-open window, and the moon cast faint silver lines across the hardwood floor. James sat at his desk, still in his Meadow Lane jacket, the smell of pitch and paper lingering on him.
He leaned back in his chair and blinked twice.
[SYSTEM CORE – FULLY OPERATIONAL]
A pulse. Then clarity.
[PRIMARY USER PROFILE – ACTIVE]
Name: James Ashford
Age: 20
Nationality: English
Club Affiliation: Notts County FC
Position: Owner & Head Coach
Current League: Football League Third Division
Coaching Qualifications:
UEFA B Coaching License
BSc Sports Science & Fitness (Loughborough University)
Playing Background:
Youth Academy Graduate – Notts County (1990–1999)
Coaching Experience:
Assistant Coach, Loughborough U19s (1999–2000)
System Core Alignment: 95%
Unlocked Abilities:
✅ Tactical Interface (Live-Match Input + Training Adaptation)
✅ Transfer Engine (Scout Analysis + Player Projections)
✅ Staff Network (Growth Potential Filter, Role Synergy, Tactical Match)
✅ Team Traits Engine
✅ Player Card Interface
Current Reputation Tier: Novice Professional (Tier 3 of 8)
Next Milestone: First Professional Win
James stared at the glowing interface hovering just above his field of vision. It felt less like magic now and more like a tool — sharpened, refined, ready to be used.
He blinked once. "System, give me an overview."
There was a pause. Then, for the first time, the system responded not with visuals but with a calm, almost human voice.
[SYSTEM ONLINE]
"Welcome, James Ashford. You have completed all five foundational requirements. You now have access to the full System Core."
Core Modules Available:
1. Tactical Interface—This interface helps build training sessions and adjust tactics during matches. It can spot opponent patterns and suggest changes in real time. It also simulates how different training drills affect performance.
2. Transfer Engine—This tool finds undervalued players or players with the potential to grow or be great. It shows how they might fit in the squad, what kind of contracts work best, and when to make a move.
3. Staff Network – Recommends coaches and backroom staff based on how well they'd work with your tactics and team culture. Filters by coaching style, communication skills, and potential.
4. Team Traits Engine – Instill identity. These team-wide traits give performance boosts when active and are earned by playing consistently, winning big matches, or developing chemistry.
5. Player Card Interface—Beyond stats, players can unlock hidden traits through experience. Winning key matches or completing milestones earns special cards that James can assign for short-term boosts. These might improve passing, stamina, decision-making, or finishing for a few matches.
James leaned forward, eyes narrowing with focus.
"Additional systems include morale monitoring, injury forecasting, and form fluctuation alerts."
"Your alignment rate is 95%. Adaptive upgrades will continue based on milestone achievements. First objective: secure your first professional win."
James nodded slowly, absorbing each line like scripture.
He cracked his knuckles.
"Let's get to work."
> **[Shortlisted: Iain Brunskill]**
---
Two days later – Liverpool FC Academy Grounds
The breeze carried a bite, laced with Merseyside air and the faint echo of footballs thudding against youth training walls. James stepped into the visitors' reception area, his coat marked with light travel creases and notebook in hand.
A tall, lean man in his late twenties stepped out to greet him.
"Iain Brunskill?" James extended a hand.
Brunskill shook it, polite but wary. "That would make you James Ashford. The head coach-owner everyone's talking about."
James smiled. "That's me. I had reached out about a potential opportunity. I'm hoping you're curious enough to hear me out."
Brunskill led him into a modest side room with a tactics board and two plastic chairs. James laid out his notes—sketches, training modules, tactical concepts still foreign to lower league football.
They spent the next half hour walking through positional fluidity, game states, counter-pressing triggers, and development philosophies.
Brunskill's tone shifted from skeptical to intrigued. "You have thought this through. Definitely not sounding like someone who just got handed a club. How long have you been working on these concepts?"
"I wasn't handed anything," James said. "I've worked through every role on the pitch, studied the game since I was 6, and tested the rest in the academy and my small stint as assistant coach. Now I'm building something new, and I want you in the club with me."
Brunskill studied him. "I'm just a youth coach."
"And I am just a graduate with barely a year's experience. You're a sharp mind who sees the game with clarity," James replied. You're not just helping run drills; you'll be helping build culture to the oldest club in the world."
Silence hung for a moment.
"I'll think about it," Brunskill finally said. "But if I say yes, it's because I believe in the project, not because I want an easy ride."
"That's exactly why I asked you."