The Preamble

For every manager, each career tells its own story. For me, there’s moments at Vitesse, St. Pauli and Girona which are firmly etched into my memory long after the save file is gone. But one story remains unfinished: S.S. Arezzo Calcio.

Some of you may remember The Calcio Chronicles — my FM24 thread documenting Arezzo’s rise through the Italian leagues before a corrupted save file intervened and the dream was lost. It was at Arezzo that a new tactical identity began to take shape: football played with structure, intelligence, and pride. Disciplina & Controllo.

Promising youth team players were breaking into the first team squad, top players were poached by bigger teams, all as we soared to the top of Serie B.

I moved on, briefly, to Venezia, evolving the 4-3-3 system that had defined those Tuscan years. But Arezzo never left my mind. The unfinished story lingered and called out to be finished.

Now, in FM26, we’re back amongst the hills of Tuscany.

The in-game universe is new: the desire and passion to bring success to Arezzo is long-established.

So, if you’ll allow me a moment of indulgence and story-telling, I’ll set the scene…

The Return to Tuscany

The gates of the Stadio Città di Arezzo creak open beneath a sun soon to set. Beyond the turnstiles, the scent of freshly cut grass and new paint drift through the evening air.

Last season, Arezzo Calcio finished fifth in Serie C/B. The season before that, 8th. The experience and enthusiasm of the team held firm; the spirit did not. A team known for their compactness were missing a spark and a cutting-edge.

Now a new figure steps from the tunnel and onto the pitch for his first open training session — the new manager, the outsider. To the fans starting to gather in the stands, his name carries curiosity more than confidence.

Not a celebrity appointment. Not a headline-grabber.

The local papers call it a gamble.

And perhaps it is.

Taking over a team who’ve had two solid seasons in Serie C, this job isn’t about survival. It’s about transformation — proving that organised football, played with precision and pride, can still climb mountains.

Across the city, cafés fill with talk of tactics and new signings.

A few hundred supporters gather, scarves around necks, eyes drawn to the maroon shirts moving through warm-ups. Hope begins to stir again — a quiet belief that in this corner of Tuscany, a new chapter might be written in amaranto.

The Journey Begins

Arezzo isn’t a superclub.

The corridors are narrow, the paint chipped, the banners faded — but the hum of history runs through every wall. Founded in 1923, nestled in the heart of Tuscany, Arezzo has lived most of its life in the shadows: flashes of Serie B glory, followed by years of struggle. The people here yearn for more. The players too.

On the pitch, the first session begins.

Drills. Triangles. Short, crisp passes cutting through the evening air.

The new manager watches, arms folded, saying little. His eyes follow movement. Compact lines. Calm under pressure. The DNA of Disciplina & Controllo.

From the stands, intrigue rises. Supporters are watching for signs of structure, of intent, of belief. They can already sense something different in the tempo. Training isn’t flashy; it’s deliberate. Each player’s position matters. Each run has purpose.

As the session winds down, the players are in good spirits as they start to slowly head towards the changing rooms. Boots scuff the turf. The sun dips behind the Tuscan hills, painting the stadium in amber light.

But the manager stays by the touchline.

He calls over two players — Emiliano Pattarello, the star winger, and Marco Chiosa, the captain. An iPad glows between them, its screen filled with shifting dots and lines. Passing lanes. Pressing triggers. The blueprint of an idea. He speaks quietly, measuredly. Pattarello nods. Chiosa gestures, offering a thought of his own. The conversation becomes a dialogue, not a lecture.

Three silhouettes framed in the glow of the floodlights.

A moment of understanding forming in the dusk.

In the stand, a father lifts his son onto the rail. The boy’s scarf — maroon and white — flutters against the cool air. He watches, wide-eyed, as manager and players shape the first outlines of something new.

For a moment, the manager looks up. Their eyes meet — the boy and the manager.

A flicker, no more. But it’s enough.

Because this, right here, is what football is about.

Not just promotion or trophies, but connection.

Not just about players, but a community.

Rebuilding belief in a place that’s forgotten how to dream.

The floodlights buzz, the night settles over the stadium, and the last of the players drift away into the tunnel. The stands empty, the boy still watching, the scarf still waving.

And somewhere in that quiet Tuscan evening, Arezzo Calcio begins to dream.