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The ninth installment of our signature product, Front Office Football Nine, was released on October 31, 2023. It is available through our Steam Store. The most recent update is Version 9.2, released on October 20, 2025. Steam will automatically update installations of the game.
Put yourself in the front office with Front Office Football Nine.
In Front Office Football, you play the role of your favorite team's general manager. You determine your team's future through trading with opponents, negotiating contracts, bidding for free agents and discovering new talent through the annual amateur draft.
You can also play the role of the armchair coach, setting game plans, creating playbooks and depth charts. You can call every play yourself if you like.
You can determine ticket prices and submit stadium construction plans for public approval. You can move your team if the public won't properly support your franchise.
The original game, released in 1998, received an Editors' Choice award from Computer Gaming World and a 4 1/2-star review. It was nominated for numerous Sports Game of the Year awards. This is the Ninth full version of the game, released with rosters based on the 2023 season.
Front Office Football is designed to represent a snapshot of professional football as it exists under the current salary cap system. You play the role of the general manager of a team. In order to succeed in Front Office Football, you need to perform as well as possible in four different areas.
“At 25, I wanted to be someone else. At 35, I just want to be more myself. And somehow, Bordeaux is the place where that’s finally possible.” He’s working on a small audio project—oral histories of Bordeaux’s market vendors. “The ones who’ve seen three generations of customers. They have more wisdom than any TED Talk.” He’s also toying with the idea of a collaborative art space in La Bastide, across the river. “Nothing pretentious. Just a room, a sink for cleaning brushes, and a rule: no talk about wine futures.”
He came back at 33, not because he failed, but because his father fell ill. “I told myself it was temporary. Six months. A year, max.” He’s now been back for two and a half years. Today, Lody works as a cultural mediator for a local cooperative that connects newer residents—students, refugees, remote workers—with long-time Bordeaux communities. “The city is changing so fast. People complain about the Parisians, the Airbnb, the tram lines. But change isn’t the enemy. Silence is. My job is to get people talking across those invisible lines.” lody, 35 years old, from bordeaux!
When asked if he’ll stay, Lody smiles and looks out toward the bell tower of Saint-Michel. “Ask me in five years. But don’t be surprised if the answer is yes.” Lody is Bordeaux’s quiet pulse—not the glossy magazine version, but the real one. A returnee, a listener, and a reminder that sometimes the most radical thing you can do in your mid-thirties is stop running and finally see where you’re from. “At 25, I wanted to be someone else
He left at 22, first to Paris, then to Montreal. “I wanted concrete, not cobblestones. I wanted noise, not the sound of the Garonne at sunrise.” For ten years, Lody built a life in Montreal’s Plateau neighborhood, working in independent music distribution and later in urban planning outreach. “Sounds random, right? It wasn’t. Both are about listening to what people don’t say out loud.” He learned English there, picked up a sharp sense of North American pragmatism, and also, he admits, a loneliness he didn’t name until much later. “The ones who’ve seen three generations of customers
“I used to think Bordeaux was too slow,” he says, stirring an espresso in a café near Place de la Victoire. “Too comfortable. Too… beige.” He laughs, a low, self-aware sound. “Turns out, I was the one who wasn’t ready for it.” Born in 1991, Lody grew up in the Saint-Michel neighborhood, back when it was still considered the gritty, working-class edge of Bordeaux’s old town. His parents ran a small épicerie on Rue des Faures. “I learned to count change before I learned to tie my shoes,” he says. But he also learned to read people—the regulars, the students, the occasional tourist who wandered in looking for something other than another bottle of Bordeaux supérieur.
“Tourists want the postcard. But the postcard doesn’t show you the elderly woman in Chartrons who’s lived there for 70 years and now can’t afford her rent. It doesn’t show you the kids in Aubiers who skateboard like their lives depend on it. That’s the real Bordeaux.” Lody is unmarried, no kids, but quick to correct: “Not lonely. Just unattached.” He lives alone in a small apartment in Nansouty , with a balcony that barely fits a chair and a plant he’s somehow kept alive for eight months. (“That’s commitment for me.”) His days start early—6 a.m. runs along the Quais, a ritual he picked up in Montreal and stubbornly kept. His nights often end late, in wine bars or at friends’ dinner parties where the conversation drifts from local politics to which oyster farmer still does things the old way.
“At 25, I wanted to be someone else. At 35, I just want to be more myself. And somehow, Bordeaux is the place where that’s finally possible.” He’s working on a small audio project—oral histories of Bordeaux’s market vendors. “The ones who’ve seen three generations of customers. They have more wisdom than any TED Talk.” He’s also toying with the idea of a collaborative art space in La Bastide, across the river. “Nothing pretentious. Just a room, a sink for cleaning brushes, and a rule: no talk about wine futures.”
He came back at 33, not because he failed, but because his father fell ill. “I told myself it was temporary. Six months. A year, max.” He’s now been back for two and a half years. Today, Lody works as a cultural mediator for a local cooperative that connects newer residents—students, refugees, remote workers—with long-time Bordeaux communities. “The city is changing so fast. People complain about the Parisians, the Airbnb, the tram lines. But change isn’t the enemy. Silence is. My job is to get people talking across those invisible lines.”
When asked if he’ll stay, Lody smiles and looks out toward the bell tower of Saint-Michel. “Ask me in five years. But don’t be surprised if the answer is yes.” Lody is Bordeaux’s quiet pulse—not the glossy magazine version, but the real one. A returnee, a listener, and a reminder that sometimes the most radical thing you can do in your mid-thirties is stop running and finally see where you’re from.
He left at 22, first to Paris, then to Montreal. “I wanted concrete, not cobblestones. I wanted noise, not the sound of the Garonne at sunrise.” For ten years, Lody built a life in Montreal’s Plateau neighborhood, working in independent music distribution and later in urban planning outreach. “Sounds random, right? It wasn’t. Both are about listening to what people don’t say out loud.” He learned English there, picked up a sharp sense of North American pragmatism, and also, he admits, a loneliness he didn’t name until much later.
“I used to think Bordeaux was too slow,” he says, stirring an espresso in a café near Place de la Victoire. “Too comfortable. Too… beige.” He laughs, a low, self-aware sound. “Turns out, I was the one who wasn’t ready for it.” Born in 1991, Lody grew up in the Saint-Michel neighborhood, back when it was still considered the gritty, working-class edge of Bordeaux’s old town. His parents ran a small épicerie on Rue des Faures. “I learned to count change before I learned to tie my shoes,” he says. But he also learned to read people—the regulars, the students, the occasional tourist who wandered in looking for something other than another bottle of Bordeaux supérieur.
“Tourists want the postcard. But the postcard doesn’t show you the elderly woman in Chartrons who’s lived there for 70 years and now can’t afford her rent. It doesn’t show you the kids in Aubiers who skateboard like their lives depend on it. That’s the real Bordeaux.” Lody is unmarried, no kids, but quick to correct: “Not lonely. Just unattached.” He lives alone in a small apartment in Nansouty , with a balcony that barely fits a chair and a plant he’s somehow kept alive for eight months. (“That’s commitment for me.”) His days start early—6 a.m. runs along the Quais, a ritual he picked up in Montreal and stubbornly kept. His nights often end late, in wine bars or at friends’ dinner parties where the conversation drifts from local politics to which oyster farmer still does things the old way.
Front Office Football has received significant critical acclaim over the years. Reviewers have rewarded the game for its attention to detail and the depth of the simulation. You can read several recent and past reviews of Front Office Football.
Electronic Arts published versions of Front Office Football in 1999, 2000 and 2001. While they are no longer for sale, this was a great experience for Solecismic Software and resulted in tremendous exposure for Front Office Football. For more information about EA Sports products, please visit EA SPORTS.
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