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+--- Thread: #1 Biography (/showthread.php?tid=224)
RE: #1 Biography - Zag - 2025-04-17
Brannigan Stoush was born in the Outback, no not the Australian outback, the North Strathfield Outback Steakhouse in New South Wales Australia. His mother wanted a nicely seasoned Ribeye with some Aussie fries before she went to give birth but the meal combined with the bloomin’ onion made it so Brannigan was born right in the restaurant, the first booth next to the bar. Some would say that was the furthest Brannigan ever made it away from the bar counter.
As a kid living in a trailer outside in the bush, Brannigan didn’t have much to do other than kick a ball around and get into fights with some other kids down the dirt road. He was much better at the fighting then he was the kicking, and he was really good at kicking. Through primary school, Brannigan Stoush continued his training as a soccer player but was kicked off his school’s team after missing half the games with red cards. So in lieu of training his soccer skills, he instead turned to training his fists, getting into scuffles outside of bars before he could even drink. The drinking part came later.
Stoush knowing that while fisticuffs was something he was good at, he needed to keep working on skills that wouldn't land him in the slammer for the night. While kicking the ball around in a park, he was noticed by a coach of a traveling team. Brannigan joined the team and learned to control his more violent proclivities and got really good at taking the ball, through any means necessary. His ability to take the ball and intimidate the opposing players caught the eye of the Sydney City academy team. His rough and tough attitude combined with his physical traits and juggernaut run style, where once he starts going, he can't be stopped, really stood out to the team. Brannigan hopes to continue his career because he sure is starting to run up a few bar tabs. He just needs to stay on the field... Most of the time at least.
APPROVED
RE: #1 Biography - SG_Vesu - 2025-04-23
Samson Okoro was born in the heart of Germany in Hamburg. He grew up with the world of football all around him rather that be in the school yards of primary school or in his after school clubs. He quite easily found his love of football at a young age and found the love of his position on the defense on the right. He always felt like he carried his own weight and sometimes went above and beyond for his clubs he played on in his youth. He was a determined and hard worker never given anything easy and always felt like he accomplished anything life threw at him. He knew what he was getting into when he told his parents his plans to hopefully go pro one day and worried that they might not fully support his wishes as they wanted him to go far in school and even graduate from university. Samson knew that if he did he would never be able to fulfill his lifelong dream of putting on the shirt of his boyhood club of the Shanghai Dragons. He always believed he had the fight to be able to do this and hoped that he could show the academies that he knew what he was doing. Finally after what had seemed to be aged to Samson, Sydney City had called his phone and gave him an offer he could have only dreamed of near months ago. His parents finally realized that his dream of becoming an SSL legend and pro football player might finally come to fruition. He quickly packed his bags and made sure to get to Sydney quickly to get acclimated with his new teammates hoping to make an impression that would last on them and show that he is as ready to work as everyone else in the club and prepare himself to get drafted in the SSL.
APPROVED - but you know Shanghai Dragons are brand new this season, right?
RE: #1 Biography - denismov - 2025-04-24
Denis Mobek wasn’t supposed to make it here.
Born and raised in a small industrial town in Romania, Mobek’s early life had very little to do with football. His days were spent drifting between naps, corner stores, and binge-watching random documentaries. His idea of cardio was running to the fridge during commercial breaks. Coaches? Never had one. Academies? Never applied. Yet somehow, he’s now the most unintentionally iconic goalkeeper in the league.
Mobek didn’t pick football. Football kind of stumbled into him. He was 18 when he first put on gloves, stepping in for a missing keeper during a local 5-a-side tournament. He played the entire match in jeans and a hoodie and didn’t concede a single goal. Word spread fast, not because he was technically sound, but because he made saves no one expected. With his foot, his face, sometimes while not even looking.
From there, he bounced between Sunday league teams, pickup games in Bucharest parks, and a brief stint playing for a regional third division club, mostly because they liked his sense of humor. His fitness level remained questionable, his diet worse, but his instincts? Unreal.
After a year in the academy, somehow surviving the structure and early mornings, Mobek was drafted by North Shore, the minor affiliate of Reykjavik United this year's champions. A move that shocked nobody more than himself.
At his introductory press conference, he arrived late, wearing mismatched slides and eating pizza, declaring,
“I don’t train. I nap. I save goals anyway.”
Mobek doesn’t take the game too seriously. But when the whistle blows, he flips the switch. Reflexes sharp. Positioning perfect. Like a hungover wizard who wakes up just in time to cast one perfect spell and disappears again before interviews start.
APPROVED - this is mojo.
RE: #1 Biography - RobJG2 - 2025-04-27
Here we go again, Bobby Green whispered. You see at a young age Bobby had to move a lot. Always bouncing from state to state every couple of years. Never having a real opportunity to make friends and even gain interest in program a school offered. Moving was never something new to Bobby, expect this time it was a bit different. It wasn't just a state it was going to be a whole another Country. Egypt they were moving to Bobby was not thrilled about this. Upon arriving Bobby would stick to himself. Not try to make friends. Just go for walks when one day some of the local teens were playing some soccer when the ball made it to Bobby Green feet. This is were Bobby would begin his soccer career. Bobby would then spend every day playing and practicing. He had finally found something he was interested. As the years passed Bobby would get better but still be one of the worse player on the field. But as usual it was time to move again. Expect this time Bobby would do what he could to prevent the move. After talking to some of his soccer friends he would learn that there is special program called The Academy were young players could go and learn and study the game in hopes to going pro. Bobby Green rushed to get al the information, And presented his case to his parents on why they should let him stay behind and that the Academy was a smart move. After showing his parents and taking a tour. They were all in agreement that Bobby Green could stay. After settling in Booby would learn that we would be playing the Victoria Falls were he would play Defender. Bobby would have a decent performance for the season, login 1260 minutes of play time and a 88.34 Pass%. The season is now over and awaits to see if is name is called on draft day.
APPROVED - with the typo "Booby" in the third-last line, I think you have a nickname.
RE: #1 Biography - aegis - 2025-04-27
Andres de Giron was born in Guatemala City, about two decades ago. He was raised in an all-female household, as his father and mother divorced at a young age. From the age of 4, his mother enrolled him in public footballing leagues, mostly to give herself some alone time, but also to keep young Andres entertained. Entertained, he became. From a young age, his talent and love for the game were evident, and when he was still 7 years old, his coaches had him playing with U10 and U11 teams. His mother and grandmother were both quite anxious about this, seeing their only son playing with kids 1 1/2 both his age and size, but they permitted it, understanding the coach knew best.
A highly aggressive, yet playful character, De Giron strived in creative roles deeper down the field where he could play line-breaking passes through to his attack. One of his youth coaches once referred to him as "Pirlo, pero con el temperamento de Gattuso," which translates to "Pirlo, but with the temper of Gattuso." Once, in a U13 game, Andres collected a hat-trick of assists from RB, only to get sent off before halftime for swearing at the ref after a poor dive from a rival was given as a foul, whereupon he called him "Un pe***jo siego, sin cerebro, con los ojos de una lombriz, y con el character de un coche con una mano dentro del ******".
He served a 6 game ban for that one.
His idols growing up seemed to be players all across the pitch, not just ones that played where he did. Pirlo yes, but also Grimaldo, Szczesny, Van Basten, Kaka, Mitoma, and Blaszczykowski.
As he grew and matured through the Futeca Academy in Guatemala, he slowly began to rise through the ranks until eventually he was one of the most widely regarded young talents throughout Central America. When he was 16, and within two years of finishing high school, he began to notice scouts turn up to his training sessions and weekly matches. Then, the offers started coming in.
It was difficult for him and for his parents to come to a decision about his future, so they consulted an agency that specialized in youth development and contracted a proper agent for young Andres. Andres wanted to play football professionally and go to a large team, but his family wanted him to stay in school as a backup plan, should things in football not turn out well for him. Eventually, however, after a long and hard discussion, they relented and with their blessing, Andres left to wade through the offers his agent put out on the table.
Understandably, there were no massive teams. They were mostly small 2nd or 3rd division sides hoping to use him as a youth prospect in their U21 teams. Olbia. Bradford. Andorra. Rot Weiss Essen. Even FC Gifu from Japan wanted the young player, but eventually both he and his agent decided that Atletico Medellin would be the best decision, as they had the clearest pipeline to a top division. There was added benefits of Spanish being the primary language (so he didn't need to learn yet another), as well as the fact that the landscape and cities would be similar to how they were back in Guatemala.
Thus, it was decided. In the winter of his 17th year, he signed a preliminary contract with Atletico Medellin.
APPROVED
RE: #1 Biography - omniscius - 2025-04-28
The Chronicles of Joga Bonito
Chapter 1: Moving Abroad
Man, it was hot. The kind of heat that cooks your head — sun blazing like a blowtorch. I was sweating like after one of those endless rachões back home — bare feet, busted court, and everyone going full tilt till the sun gave up. But I didn’t mind it. Truth is, I kinda liked the sun. Back home in Porto Alegre, though, the seasons were flipped — while I was roasting here in Barcelona, it was probably cold enough there to freeze a cusco.
I’d just landed. New city, new country, new life. Everything was fresh — I was starting from scratch. All I’d ever known was the streets of Porto Alegre, where I grew up playing ball barefoot on hot pavement or muddy fields, learning the ginga, the rhythm of the game. That’s where I came from.
This opportunity? It came from my old man, Roberto, and my older brother, Jorge. They made it happen — the kind of shot you don’t get twice. My dad used to be a footballer too. Nothing big — he played in the lower leagues, grinding it out week after week. Jorge, though, he was the star. Everyone thought he’d make it, but injuries wrecked his dream before it ever really took off.
We’d been struggling for a while. Dad never made enough to retire on, and when football ended, he bounced around from job to job. He did whatever he could — driving, bouncing, carrying boxes. The folks in our bairro respected him, so there was always some work, something to keep us going. But inside, he was broken. Depression hit him hard, and he drowned himself in cachaça. I love him, but that bottle dragged him deeper, and it pulled us down with him.
Jorge stepped up. While Dad faded, Jorge became the one holding everything together. He worked extra shifts at the plant just to buy me boots and give me enough coins for the bus to training. He believed in me. And when I got good, really good, he became my agent — unofficial, sure, but all heart. It was Jorge who lined up this shot in Barcelona. A chance to play real football. A chance to make something of myself.
And now I’m here - just a guri from Porto Alegre with the game in my blood and my family's dreams in my boots. I spotted my ride - being an unknown there are no paparazzi, no mob of fans awaiting him - a big white sign in black ink reads: BONITO. I walk towards the man awaiting me dressed in a nice black suit with a white undershirt who beckoned me over. "God help me" I say to myself as I embark on this new journey.
___________
The night before I left, Jorge knocked on my bedroom door. Didn’t wait for me to answer. Just came in, leaned against the wall like he always did when something was on his chest.
"You packed already?"
"Mostly."
He nodded but didn’t say anything right away. His eyes scanned the room — my boots by the door, our old futsal ball under the bed, the peeling CF Catalunya poster of Ronaldo De Silva and Luis Bernardo on the wall.
“Can’t believe you’re really going, mano,” he said, voice low. “CF Catalunya... that’s big.”
“Yeah, I still can't believe it either," I said, the moment not really hitting me yet. "God has gifted me this opportunity, I wouldn't let it go to waste. It's my dream to play in Europe."
He laughed once, but it didn’t carry. “I used to dream of that too, you know? All of it. Stadium lights. The anthem. Making it big so Dad didn’t have to bust his back for scraps. So we didn’t have to split dinner three ways some nights.”
I looked up at him. His arms were crossed tight, like he was holding himself together.
"Had the talent, the pace, the moves... But God, He had other plans. My body broke before I could even touch what I was dreaming. Knee, ankle, back… the whole thing. And I asked Him, ‘Deus, por quê?’ But you know what? No answer. Nothing.”
He stared out the window for awhile. You could see the pain in his eyes as though he were watching his dreams slipping away outside.
“You think I didn’t feel that? Watching you play and knowing you got what I never could? I tried to hide this you from this, I tried pushing away my feelings of losing my dream. For you. I put you before myself.”
I felt guilt rise up inside of me; conflicted; tortured. He looked up at me, eyes tired but somehow still full of fire.
“But listen, mano. I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty or doubt yourself. I’m telling you so you don’t forget who got you here. You’re the one who gets the chance I never did. You’re the one who might actually break out. And I need you to understand, it’s not just for you. It’s for Dad, it’s for me, for everything we’ve been through. We’ve been down, and we’ve stayed down, but you? You have the chance to pull us out of this hole.”
He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me with that same old, older brother stare. I knew he just wanted the best for me, for us, but it was hard to utter the words. For Jorge, the pain of what could have been eating away, plaguing my brother. He had placed all of his hopes into me.
“You got something I didn’t have,” he said, quieter now. “And I’m not talking about your feet. I mean your fire. You keep going even when everything’s falling apart. That’s why I pushed for this. Why I made those calls. Worked those extra shifts.”
He looked at me, eyes sharper now. “But listen - don’t lose your head out there. Don’t let the lights blind you. Stay hungry, stay humble. Remember where you came from.”
I nodded, trying to keep my throat from tightening.
“Jorge... I’m gonna make you proud. I swear.”
“You already have,” he said. “Just promise me one thing.”
"What?”
“No matter how far you go... don’t forget the street that taught you to play. Don’t forget Dad. Don’t forget me.”
“I won’t, mano.”
He stood up, pulling me into a brotherly embrace. It was one of those hugs that said everything we didn’t know how to say to each other. “Vai lá, guri," he whispered. “Show them what a kid from Porto Alegre can do.”
___________
Brazilian Portuguese Glossary:
rachões: a rough street soccer match you'd find in the favelas
cusco: a dog. Apparently, to freeze a dog is like an expression about how cold it is
ginga: this is kind of the rhymic, dance-like dribbling style Brazil is well-known for
bairro: neighbourhood; quarter; district
cachaça: alcohol; liqour
guri: a boy
mano: bro
Deus, por quê?: "God, why?"
Vai lá: let's go!
APPROVED - Beautiful - some users' love for their players shines through. You're one, here.
RE: #1 Biography - TERMINUSULTIMUS - 2025-05-01
TERMINUS ULTIMUS. A NAME THAT SENDS SHIVERS THROUGH THE VERY SPINE OF THE EARTH, AN ENTITY BORN OF CHAOS AND ANNIHILATION. HIS ORIGIN IS SHROUDED IN MYSTERY, A COSMIC FORCE WHOSE ARRIVAL IS NOTHING LESS THAN A RAGEFUL OUTCRY AGAINST THE UNIVERSE. TERMINUS WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE A SIMPLE PLAYER, A YOUTHFUL PRODIGY RISING THROUGH ACADEMIES, OR A REFORMED LEGEND LOOKING FOR A FINAL GLORY. NO, TERMINUS ULTIMUS WAS BORN TO ERASE THE VERY CONCEPT OF COMPETITION ITSELF.
WHILE THE MORTAL WORLD SUGGESTS THAT HEROES ARE MADE THROUGH HARD WORK AND TRAINING, TERMINUS WAS FORGED IN THE FIRES OF THE INFERNO, A BEING WHOSE PURPOSE IS PURE DESTRUCTION. HIS ARRIVAL ON THE FIELD IS NOT A STORY OF DEVELOPMENT, BUT OF SUPREMACY. WHERE OTHERS LINGER IN THE SHADOWS OF TITANS, TERMINUS STANDS AT THE EDGE OF TIME ITSELF, AN IMMENSE BEING WHO SEES THE FIELD AS A BATTLEFIELD, WHERE ONLY HIS RULES APPLY.
RISING FROM THE DEPTHS OF A FOOTBALL WORLD UNPREPARED FOR HIS ARRIVAL, TERMINUS ULTIMUS DOMINATED HIS VERY FIRST APPEARANCE. NO STRATEGY WAS STRONG ENOUGH, NO DEFENSE WAS SOLID ENOUGH TO KEEP HIM AT BAY. HE LIVES AND BREATHES CHAOS, DESTROYING EVERYTHING IN HIS WAKE WITH A COMBO OF VIOLENT, SUPERNATURAL STRENGTH AND A CALCULATED MADNESS. HIS PRESENCE UPON THE PITCH IS A DEADLY COSMIC FORCE, AND FOR THOSE WHO DARE TO FACE HIM, THERE IS ONLY THE PROMISE OF OBLIVION.
NOTHING CAN STOP THE DOMINANCE OF TERMINUS ULTIMUS. HIS STORY IS NOT ONE OF RISE BUT OF IMMEDIATE ANNIHILATION A FORCE THAT CANNOT BE UNDERSTOOD, A LEGEND THAT WILL BE WRITTEN IN THE ANCIENT SCRIPT OF DESTRUCTION. HIS PLACE IN THIS LEAGUE? IT IS ONLY THE BEGINNING OF A CONQUEST THAT WILL ECLIPSE EVERYTHING
HIS DOMINANCE IN THE DEFENSIVE THIRD IS LEGENDARY, A WALL OF UNHOLY FORCE THAT SHATTERS EVERYTHING BEFORE HIM. OTHERS CLAIM TO DEFEND, BUT TERMINUS ULTIMUS DOESN’T DEFENDHE DECIMATES. ATTACKERS WHO THINK THEY CAN GET PAST HIM WILL FIND THEIR FATES SEALED IN THE MOST TERRIFYING MANNER. THE GOAL IS A TEMPLE OF CHAOS, AND HE IS THE UNHOLY GUARDIAN WHO WILL NEVER ALLOW IT TO BE VIOLATED. THE FEW WHO MANAGED TO LURK IN HIS SHADOWS ONLY EVER DID SO BRIEFLY, FOR HE IS THE FINAL JUDGE OF WHO TRULY DESERVES TO WALK AWAY FROM THE FIELD.
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I'm not certain this is really a biography, my AI detector is on the fence about the text, and ALLCAPS hurts my eyes. APPROVED grudgingly
RE: #1 Biography - gucci - 2025-05-04
I’ll write at a middle school level for this one to not set off any AI detectors.
Sandro da Silva was born along the coast of Rio Grande do Norte, Brazil, in a quiet but loving home. His hometown, Natal, was named after it was “discovered” by the Portuguese on Christmas back in the 16th century. As a result, the city whips itself up into a frenzy when the holiday season comes around. Families barbecue in the searing Brazilian summer sun, people flock to the urban beaches to juggle balls around or play futevolei on a repurposed beach volleyball court.
Everyone but Sandro da Silva that is. Sandro da Silva found himself training for greatness. Up before dawn doing sprints in the cool sand, strengthening his ankles and leg muscles. At the pitch doing technical training, practicing pushing the ball past defenders like his idol, Gareth Bale. One touch drills with the coaches and pro players when the other academy players hadn’t arrived yet. Sandro was committed to his craft. That craft is jogo bonito.
His game relies on embarrassing opposing defenders in one on one situations and whipping in dangerous crosses from anywhere in the attacking third. He’d made quite a name for himself in the process and was drawing looks from scouts all over the world trying to bring him to their academies. His commitment to playing his own unique style of football that paid tribute to both his individual god given talents as well as his Brazilian roots caught the eye of the Sydney City FC academy and they approached him with an offer that was too good to refuse.
Sandro doesn’t speak a lick of the Australian language, but he speaks the universal language of football. In Sydney, he has wasted no time showing his skills and playing the game on his own terms. Despite not making his debut until the second match week, he finds himself amongst the league leaders in several key statistics. When it comes to dribbles, nobody has completed as many as him at the academy level this season. In crosses, he trails only Stockholm winger Rose Jenkins in attempts. Defensively, he holds his own in a system running just one center back. Sydney City couldn’t have asked for a much better return on their investment.
Sandro looks set to be a star in world football, and he’s just now scratching the surface of his potential.
APPROVED - If that was middle-school level, keeping it simple sure let you focus on the storytelling.
RE: #1 Biography - Malino8444 - 2025-05-05
Biography take 2 electric boogaloo:
It was a cold winter night - well, cold by Argentine standards - when Ryan van Eyndhoven was born. You might think, "Van Eyndhoven? That's not a Spanish name!" Well, that's because Ryan's father moved to Buenos Aires after falling in love with Ryan's mother during an exchange program. Ryan was named after the movie Saving Private Ryan. Why that one? Every time he asks, his parents just laugh and change the subject. ?
Ryan was the third of five children - two older sisters and a set of younger twins, a boy and a girl. Ryan grew up in the streets of Buenos Aires, spending the first seven years of his life in poverty. The Argentine depression didn't help his parents' financial situation either. Most of his time was spent playing football barefoot on the pavement with friends - the ball often half-flat, the goals made from stacked bricks. It didn't matter. It was joy.
When Ryan turned eight, his parents had finally scraped together enough money to move to the Netherlands, hoping to give their children a better life. When Ryan asked if he would see his friends again, his parents told him, "In a while." Ryan didn't know what that meant. He just hoped it wasn't forever.
They settled in a small town called Dommelen, just fifteen minutes from Eindhoven - Lighttown. His dad got a job at the local brewery, while his mom stayed home to take care of the newborn twins.
Ryan quickly joined the junior ranks of the local team, RKVV Dommelen, where his South American flair and street football instincts lit up the field. He racked up goals as an attacking midfielder, catching the eyes of scouts from all the Dutch top teams - AZ, Ajax, Feyenoord, PSV... they all came knocking. It wasn't just a dream anymore. He had a decision to make - one that could shape his future.
One goal - a cheeky chip.
Another - a rocket from outside the box.
Then a tap-in.
And finally, a curling beauty from the edge of the area.
Four goals. On his debut. At De Herdgang. Ryan's first match for Jong PSV against Jong Ajax couldn't have gone any better. After the match, his teammates lifted him up like a hero. And then - the moment he had dreamed of - the first team manager came over. "You did well," he said. Just three words. But to Ryan, it meant everything.
The years flew by. Ryan excelled at Jong PSV and was soon promoted to the first team. He scored goal after goal, racked up assist after assist. He was one of the Eredivisie's brightest young stars. But then, it happened. PSV vs. AZ. He was dribbling toward the box when it came - a brutal two-footed challenge into his left leg. The pain was instant. Sharp. Blinding. Ryan clutched his knee, screaming. The doctors said it would take months. In the end, it took over a year. And when he finally came back... someone else had taken his spot. After the injury, Ryan couldn't break back into the team. Match after match, he sat on the bench. At the end of the season, PSV told him his contract wouldn't be extended. Ryan and his agent tried everything to find him a new club. Weeks passed. Then months. No one was calling. The boy who once had the top four clubs in the Netherlands fighting for him... now couldn't get a trial. Except for one team…
Sydney City. A club in the academy of the SSL, a wild, up-and-coming global competition with teams from every continent. It wasn't Europe, nor Argentina. It wasn't home. But it was something. A fresh start. And Ryan was going to take it.
The night before Ryan had to leave, he spoke with his mom. They stood in his childhood room filled with posters of the likes of Messi and Neymar.
"I'm going to miss you, Mom, " Ryan said with tears in his eyes.
"Me too, sweetheart. "Me too."
Silence.
"But promise me one thing," she said.
"What's that?"
"That one day... you'll come back. To us. "To your familia."
Ryan nodded. "I promise, Mom."
They hugged one last time.
The next day, Ryan walked toward the gate - toward the unknown.
A new adventure.
A new life.
APPROVED - lovely.
RE: #1 Biography - Ghost - 2025-05-05
Apologies in advance, I am not a writer and this is well out of my comfort zone (364 Words below)
Since he is not forthcoming with any information whatsoever, I am tasked with taking a closer look at James Asprey, a goalkeeper in the SSL.
What do we know about the mysterious shot stopper? I am fairly certain he was born in Wales, assumedly to human parents. Even that can be contested though, given that Asprey himself says so little and reveals even less.
Diving into his history to learn more about him took me all of five minutes. A few minutes spent checking the details I did have were correct, and a final minute spent scratching my head at the lack of any useful info. Who is this guy? Why is he here?
With no noted history of any kind in any database, I can only venture a guess that James Asprey is quite literally brand new to the sport. He seemed to appear more than arrive for his first day of the academy season, looking as if he had accidentally stumbled into the ranks than intentionally signed up for anything. Perhaps he was too shy, quiet and reserved to announce his mistake and leave, preferring instead to bite his tongue and “see this through” – whatever that entails. Or perhaps he is an undercover agent, sent here to investigate the league from within. I admit the latter is wild speculation, but I could argue ANY information on James Asprey is just the same.
One thing I do know for sure, or at least I think I do, is that he seems to enjoy art. Not long after wandering into the academy grounds did he find himself wandering into the SSL Offices in the same clueless and uncertain manner that he appeared at the academy with, claiming a desk of his own in the art department. He appears, completes his work, he leaves. I am not entirely sure the SSL Office has even hired him – maybe they’re too unsettled by his appearance to turf him out? I mean, he is working.
Anyway. This was by far the quickest biography I have ever been tasked to write. James Asprey is a Welsh goalkeeper (I think). That is all.
Thank you for reading,
Your Beleaguered Biographer
APPROVED - the writing's on par with half the league. You'll do fine.