doing it for the kids:
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Posted: April 2nd 2010
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So far ahead of the rest of the League are my girls’ u12s in terms of fixtures played that we spent most of March twiddling our thumbs as everyone else played catch up. Saturday mornings with the little ‘uns continue to be a joy, untainted as they are by the ‘pressure’ of actual games...but it was a particularly frustrating month with my u16s.
As previously reported, this will be these lads’ last season with the team in its current form...and frankly I wish I’d jacked it in a year ago, as my instinct had told me to do. Six years of joy are slowly unravelling in a blur of ungrateful players quitting mid-season, poor attendances at weekly training...and bile & venom being spat out whichever way you turn on Sunday mornings, from players, managers & spectators alike...
U16s football sees teenage testosterone at its ugly peak, a place for these nearly men who can’t yet frequent pubs’n’clubs to strut their stuff. Every tackle seems to lead to a stand-off; every mistake leads to a potty-mouthed torrent of (self-) abuse...and on the touchline people who should be old enough to know much, much better egg these youths on.
We played a horrible team a couple of weeks back. Non-stop rant’n’ rave on & off the pitch. About an hour into the game, I’d had enough and, to my shame, allowed myself to drop to their level for a minute. I suggested to the opposition left winger that he mouthed off a bit less and got on with the game. “F**k you,” he replied. “Gonna say that to my face after the game?” I stupidly, so stupidly replied. “Look at you, you f**kin’ tramp” came the response.
Cut to the quick by a lippy 16 year old chav, I won’t deny I took it to heart. With my long-ish windswept hair and my less than fitting Puma coat...well if I’m honest, he had a point. I argued with the boy’s dad – who whilst dapper by comparison (and clearly the source of his son’s instant ability to style-judge) was a complete moron. “Well deserved lads!!!” he bellowed in our ears after they’d re-taken the lead utterly against the run of play. “Show no mercy!!!” he roared after we somehow contrived to hand them a 3-1 lead.
His partner in crime is the team coach, boss for the day in the usual manager’s absence. He shouts constantly from first minute to last, kicking every ball (often almost literally as he’s frequently standing five yards onto the playing area). There is no escape from these baying brutes living their dreams through a meaningless mid-table u16s football match.
The following week, for the first time in over a year, we play the team against whom last year one of their parents assaulted one of our players, the whole thing ending up in court. The parent in question is long off the scene, his son no longer with the team...and a lot of water has flown under this particular bridge since. No trouble is expected...well none directly related to last year’s incident. However there is always an unpleasant atmosphere against this lot as they’re a would-be ‘all stars’ team drawn from all over the county (most of them have been in & out of academies for years)...and they expect to turn up and roll the likes of us over with ease. This mentality begins with their manager, flows through their parent supporters, and inevitably is played out on the pitch by their lads.
Last year we held them to a 0-0 in the first game, then lost unluckily in the last minute in the second, 4-3. They didn’t like it. This year, the table suggests we’re not so good, whilst they’ve just welcomed back a couple of lads who’ve not quite made the academy grade, but are what Redknapp Junior would call top, top players at our level. So holding them to 0-0 at half time has irked them somewhat. We overhear some of their half time team talk, the players effing & blinding with frustration, the manager retorting with “at least you don’t have to stand and listen to that bunch of f***ing jokers” (that’s me and my colleagues).
The lack of respect for the opposition is astounding. A basic respect that still seems relatively commonplace in the professional game. We have no subs, and as we tire, they score two quick goals. Game over, the manager stops chuntering now he’s got his way. I keep my distance and bite my lip. What am I doing here? This isn’t what it’s all about. In the last five minutes they sneak in two more to give the score a somewhat flattering hue. Their lads laugh and joke, verging on mocking, again it’s just so easy to conclude that this lack of sportsmanship starts at the top. 16 year olds may know their own minds about many things, but I maintain that every football team I come across at this age group apes the characteristics of its manager. Last week foul mouthed & confrontational, this week cocky and disrespectful. Oh the joy.
We finish the month by somehow contriving to lose 3-1 at home to the team rock bottom of the League. A fairly subdued match livens up on the hour mark when 10 or 12 players get involved in a skirmish. It’s mostly handbags, but as the ref just stands back and watches, eventually coaching staff from each team reluctantly go on the pitch to move their respective players away. Towards the end of the altercation, one opposition player totally loses control, grabs one of our lads in a headlock, and drags him 10 yards or so before throwing him to the ground. The ref (an ‘official’ League appointment) does nothing.
So that was the month that was. The backlog caused by the extreme winter weather means the season will run into mid-May. With my younger charges I’d happily coach all year if we didn’t have to make way for the cricket club. As for the u16s, I’m counting down the days.