OK, confession time, I am one of those 40 something year old nerds, that has an obsession with football management simulations (yes...computer games!)

My photo on this site is not actually of me, I really look more like a cross between that comic book shop guy from the Simpsons, and the World of Warcraft player on that classic episode of South Park.

I tend to spend ridiculous amounts of time glued to the PC, feeding this habit. Family and friends attempt to communicate with me from time to time, but I can’t really hear them. I sense they are there, just in the periphery of my vision, and acknowledge their existence with a nod and a yeah..uh..huh…ok…yup’. Then they simply seem to dissolve away, as I pass back into the parallel universe of my own creation.

What you don’t realise until several weeks later (apart from sensing that you probably should have taken that shower when you last visited the bathroom… I think it was Monday evening), is that in one of these exchanges with your better half, you have unwittingly consented to the purchase of a new ‘Ab-dominator 9000’, and to cap it off, you also agreed you would go to uncle Herb’s 70th next Saturday night.

‘…awww come orn darl…we’re playing Sydneeeey’ - pleading, nearly down on one knee with hands cupped and gesticulating to emphasise the significance of the word Sydney.

There is a heavy price to pay for this addiction. Not only will you lighten your wallet to the tune of $80, but your obsession will inevitably bring untold tension into your real world relationships (novices be warned).

Around November each year, the newest instalment of these life destroying football games is released. My personal preference over the years has been Football Manager (formerly Championship Manager, and hereafter simply referred to as ‘FM’).

This ‘game’, if you can really call it that, provides the opportunity to pretend that you can right all that you perceive to be wrong in the football world, and in doing so, create virtual football history.

Unfortunately, the ‘realism’ that has been engineered into a game like FM is such that grand plans of quick success, and Mourinho-like status and recognition, are usually quickly frustrated. Even with my extensive FM experience, I can attest that in this simulated environment, glory is not necessarily easy to come by.

This ‘season’ I initially started out with my beloved Mariners excited by the prospect of making a big marquee signing that would bulk up the midfield, and then I would go on to take the A-league by storm. I was even ready to concede that Lawrie’s 4-3-3 attacking formation could stay.

Unfortunately, the only uncontracted players of note that were prepared to talk to me were Mark Milligan and Ljubo Milicevic (and then strangely enough, Milligan signed with the Jets!!), I was, to say the least, a little despondent. My plans were already coming undone. Oh, on a positive note I should mention that virtual Royce Brownlie was pretty keen to sign up though.

A serious re-assessment of my strategy was required, so I thought, ‘how about I just try Spurs, surely I can do an ‘Arry, and avoid the lurid debacle that developed under Comolli and Ramos?’

So, with surprisingly little trepidation… (I picked up this word from Andy Harper), I quickly ditched the Mariners for the dizzying heights of the EPL. With a wealth of talent at my disposal, a near bottomless transfer budget and my undoubted tactical genius, glory would be ‘virtually’ assured (top four here I come).

It all started so well, with a couple of key midfield signings and some dead wood offloaded. Predictably, the early season was spectacular, and I was 6th in the league by the middle of October…(I know, I know, but it is Tottenham for God's sake!) I was also progressing well in the UEFA cup.

However, at a certain point in every season something stops working as well as it did before. You can’t quite pin it down, but you can’t resist the temptation to tinker. I just didn’t think Darren Bent was getting enough scoring chances.

Draws at home against teams we should dominate, inability to score an away goal, and a succession of changes up front, reflects the current malaise. The dizzying heights of 5th-6th seem a distant memory as December draws to a close.

I now find myself in a perpetual state of agitation. I just don’t seem to have any answers. Excluding Saturday evening, I invested virtually the whole weekend in this freakin’ team of overpaid prima-donna’s, I pissed the wife off, kicked the dog, and alienated the kids, and they still aren’t listening to me! – the team that is, the others haven’t listened since Championship Manager 3.

Perhaps I should try Barcelona instead.