Too Many Save Ideas, Not Enough Me
The game isn’t even out yet and I’m already stressed. Not because of potential bugs, system specs, or whether my Assistant Manager will once again suggest we’re “overloaded in midfield” when I’m literally playing with 5 midfielders.
No, I’m stressed because I have absolutely no idea which of my many FM26 save ideas to commit to now that women’s football is finally here.
This should be the fun part. Years of waiting, and at last we’ve got full integration, 14 playable leagues, and a whole new world of stories to dive into.
And yet instead of excitement, my brain has descended into the classic Football Manager spiral: indecision, fear of commitment, and at least three colour-coded spreadsheets ranking potential saves based purely on kits.
It’s exhausting, and painfully on brand.
The Hipster Pick
Every time I think about FM26, I end up back at London City Lionesses. It feels like the FM hipster’s dream choice. The “I listen to obscure bands on vinyl” of the WSL. The independent club trying to muscle in on the elite.
It just makes sense. A team with ambition, not weighed down by the expectation of glory, but still close enough to the big stage that you can dream.
And yet, in my head, I’m already making it harder than it needs to be: a self-imposed “youth only” challenge. No signings aged over 21. No panic buying the almost retired 37-year-old striker on deadline day. Just academy graduates and youth prospects.
It sounds romantic, doesn’t it? Grow your own, build a legacy, nurture the next generation of stars. Except I know what’ll really happen: the board will expect me to storm the WSL while my 18-year-old left-back is still figuring out which way round to wear her boots. Chelsea will blow £600k on a teenager from Sweden, and I’ll be stuck explaining to the media why we just lost 4–0 at Hayes Lane.
The Lower-League Slog
Then my brain swings to the complete opposite. Forget London, forget the WSL. Let’s start somewhere tiny. Semi-pro, no money, players who work in Tesco during the week and play centre midfield on Sundays.
Wales? Sweden? Maybe Denmark? One of those places where promotion celebrations involve a Tesco meal deal on the bus home. That’s the dream.
But here’s the thing: I know exactly what lower-league life is like in FM. Training facilities that look like they’re held together with duct tape. A physio whose only medical qualification is watching Casualty. Losing your star striker because you couldn’t afford to offer her £125 a week.
Every promotion would feel like a miracle, but the slog… oh, the slog. The kind of save where the highlight of your season is a youth intake player who looks half-decent, only for her to end up with “Unambitious” as her personality trait.
The Custom Club Delusion
And then there’s the “new toy” temptation: create a custom club from scratch. No history, no fanbase, no traditions. Just me, a dodgy logo I probably designed on Canva at 2am, and a home kit that everyone will politely describe as “different.”
There’s something intoxicating about it. Building everything from nothing. Picking a small city that’s never had a women’s side at the top level, planting my flag, and declaring: “This muddy training pitch will one day host a Champions League winner.”
Of course, in reality, it’ll be years of playing in front of 57 people and a dog, losing to clubs who actually have money, and explaining why the youth intake consists entirely of goalkeepers.
The Abroad Adventure Spiral
Spain calls to me sometimes. The thought of taking on Barcelona Femení and trying to build a rival dynasty in Liga F is tempting. Germany, too – can I finally be the manager who breaks Bayern and Wolfsburg’s monopoly? Or even Japan’s WE League, where the culture of football is completely different?
It all sounds very adventurous until I’m six hours into the save, furiously Googling whether or not the Japanese league has foreign player limits because I’ve just signed a fifth Brazilian without thinking.
The Dual-Club Fantasy
And then, the wild card. FM26 lets me create separate profiles to manage men’s and women’s sides at the same club. Two universes, one ecosystem.
So naturally, my brain has decided this means I should run both. Imagine Manchester City, with me overseeing both squads, creating one unified tactical philosophy across the entire organisation. 3-5-2 gegenpress for all.
Sounds brilliant! Until I remember I can barely keep up with one save at a time, let alone two. I’ll inevitably neglect one side. The men will be winning trebles while the women languish in 6th, or vice versa.
The Fear of Missing Out
The real issue isn’t that I don’t have ideas. It’s that I have too many. And whichever path I pick, I’ll spend the whole time wondering if I should’ve picked another.
If I go London City youth-only, I’ll feel guilty for abandoning the gritty lower-league slog. If I dive into Sweden, I’ll envy everyone building superteams in the WSL. If I create a custom club, I’ll inevitably miss the pull of the real-world stories.
It’s classic FM paralysis: the fear that the “perfect save” is just out of reach, waiting for me to stumble across it two weeks too later.
Where I’ll Probably End Up
Here’s the truth: I’ll overthink this right up until release day. Then I’ll boot up the game, panic, pick a random club I hadn’t even considered, and before I know it I’ll be six seasons deep, irrationally attached to a centre-back with 9 heading who somehow scores from every corner.
That’s the magic of FM. The best saves aren’t the ones you plan, they’re the ones you fall into by accident.
So yes, I’m still agonising. Still weighing London City’s “hipster project” against the romance of the Welsh pyramid, the intrigue of Germany, the sun of Spain, the lure of Japan, and the chaos of starting a club from scratch.
But deep down, I know it doesn’t matter. Whichever decision I make, the FM26’s women’s football debut will feel brand new anyway. And if not, save number two is already warming up on the touchline.
