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We worked so hard last season for our top four finish, but it may not mean as much as we had hoped. We still have to qualify for the Champions League group stages and we have CSKA Moscow in our way.

It’s hard to overstate the importance of this one. If we go through, we’ll be able to jab our filthy little snouts into UEFA’s cash trough, guzzling down lashings of hot TV revenue that could allow us to build a squad capable of challenging for honours. And if we lose we’ll be in the Europa League, earning buttons for playing nothing games and then getting wiped out in the latter stages when the Champions League failures are parachuted in.

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We have a tricky away game at Bournemouth at the weekend, but with the greatest of respect to the Cherries, we’ll play our strongest team here and worry about them later. And that means Romelu Lukaku will lead the line.

CSKA start with all of the ball, but we have all of the chances. They can’t get through a midfield packed with steel, but we have no issues hitting them on the flanks. Filip Kostic still needs to learn how we play football here though; he breaks down the left flank, but instead of laying the ball back for the onrushing crash team of Lukaku, Ross Barkley, Aaron Lennon and Idrissa Gueye, he cuts in and has a crack himself. That’s none the done thing round here.

Midway through the first half, Alan Dzagoev finds a bit of space and cracks off a hopeful long shot. Alfie Areola has it covered, but it catches a wicked deflection of Demigod Vida’s arse and skids into the bottom corner. We’re 0-1 down. But we’re okay. We’re playing well. These things happen. We’re okay.

10 minutes later, CSKA toss a cross in to no-one in particular, it whistles over the box and bounces out for a throw-in. But the referee is pointing at the spot. I have no idea what he’s seen, but whatever it was, it seems to have been Vida’s fault. Vasili Berezutski smashes home the penalty. We’re 0-2 down to the only two shots they’ve had.

At half time, I go crackers. It’s not really justified because we shouldn’t be losing by one, let alone two, but my therapist told me to be my authentic self and my authentic self is fucking livid.

Then minutes after the break and with my players looking far brighter, Seamus Coleman pokes a useful ball through the lines and Romelu Lukaku clatters it past Igor Akinfeev’s ears at about Mach 3. Then James McCarthy, of all people, wanders into the final third and fires the ball into the box where a quite clearly offside Aaron Lennon stabs it home.

I agreed to let Leighton Baines go this summer, but no-one wanted him so he’s still here. I’m rather glad of that because I send him on for an off colour Kieran Tierney and tell him to get forward. That means he’s there to overlap James McClean and fire home a dramatic late winner. We’ve turned it around and we’ll take a single goal lead to Moscow next week. We’ll worry about those two away goals later…

I can’t send the same team out for Bournemouth, sadly. McCarthy and Barkley are exhausted, so they make way for Tom Davies and Andrea Poli. The rest of them are fine though and though the trip to Moscow is just days away, I don’t want to just write this game off and send out a reserve side. We can rest later.

There’s a pattern emerging here. Once again, we start well. Once again, we rack up the sort of chances that necessitate the development and acceptance of xG metrics in mainstream football discourse. And once again, we go behind against the run of play.

We have 12 shots, two of them are classed as clear-cut opportunities, and then Bournemouth toss a cross in, Benik Afobe loses Brendan Galloway and nuts his side into the lead. This time, I’m calmer at half time. They really have done very little wrong. But when we rack up our 20th shot on 57 minutes, I feel like I need to make a change. Off comes Lukaku, I need him in Moscow, and on comes Niasse, who hasn’t scored in several hours of football.

That barren run ends here and in the most inglorious fashion. Aaron Lennon tries to pass the ball in from the right, but a Bournemouth boot sends it spinning off course. It find its way to Niasse, in a crowd, and he scuffs his shot horribly wide, straight into the back of Lewis Cook and into the corner of the net. I am amazed that anyone has the brass balls to celebrate it.

We eventually rattle up enough chances to win the game three times over, but sometimes you have to know when to shurg your shoulders and take the draw.

Before the trip to Russia, we finally have an U23 game and an opportunity to put some minutes into Ramiro Funes Mori and Jonathan Biabiany, neither of whom have had a pre-season. They both come through unscathed and Shani Tarashaj, who was on loan in Germany last season, scores twice. He could be one to watch.

But we’re back to the strongest team for Moscow. Galloway remains in place of Funes Mori while he regains fitness. The midfield is uncompromising. The wingers are fleet of foot. The striker is Lukaku. All we need is a draw. A draw basically puts £40m in the bank account. A defeat puts about £30 in the bank account. So no pressure.

It’s a nervous start as you might imagine. CSKA are happy to try to absorb our attacks and hit us on the break and so we have the better of the opening exchanges. Lukaku goes close with a snap shot from inside the penalty area and we’re very much in control.

Right up until the moment they win a free kick about 30 yards out. Bibras Natkho steps up, takes a deep breath and sticks the ball into the very top right corner of Areola’s goal.

Ok. Deep breaths. It’s all okay. That makes it 3-3 and they have the away goals, but we haven’t failed to score since that freak defeat to West Bromwich Albion towards the end of last season. We always score. That’s what we do. It’s all okay.

The game ebbs away. With 25 minutes to go I conclude that it may not be all okay. I withdraw defensive midfielder James McCarthy and throw Niasse up top with Lukaku. He immediately picks up the ball on the halfway line and gallops forward happily before running straight into Vasily Berezutskiy like a dog into a set of patio doors. The resultant counter-attack nearly puts us 2-0 down.

But with 10 minutes to go, the tactical tweak pays off. With Niasse causing chaos with runs even he can’t predict, there’s space for Lukaku to race onto Barkley’s through-ball. He’s clean through, he’s one on one, he’s on the penalty spot, he pulls back the trigger…

…and drives the ball into Igor Akinfeev’s midriff. The chance is gone.

In a haze of anxiety, I throw everyone forward into overload into something looks a bit like a 2-4-4. If anything, we are even worse. The full time whistle blows, we are out on away goals. And I would like to be left alone now for a while, if that’s ok.

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Click here to read Iain Macintosh’s ‘Football Manager 2026: Release version review’.