doing it for the kids:
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Posted: September 8th 2009
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Saturday morning
It’s 8.25. I’ve unlocked the Clubhouse, but left all the food & drink in the car. The wife won’t be happy as when she comes down to open up the tea bar, she’ll expect it all to be in place. However, I have weightier matters to deal with...
Cones & balls.
Every session starts with these two essentials. Apparently Avram Grant’s nickname whilst ‘Arry’s unwanted Director of Football at Pompey was BBC – Balls Bibs & Cones man. Maybe it didn’t justify a six figure salary, but never underestimate their importance to the smooth running of your session.
I’ve planned for this day for weeks & weeks, fine tuning all manner of things...but have neglected two basics. I promised myself I’d pump the balls up on Friday night, as my pump is notoriously unreliable. And I’d been determined to fix on the ideal training area size for our newly expanded u6s group (jumping in size from 30 to 48).
I also promised myself I’d be here at 8.00. It’s now 8.27 (I’ve lost another two minutes musing), two bags of worryingly flat looking balls by my side, and I start pacing.
8.45 and my trusty sidekick arrives. Bless him, he’s been on nights and got in at 5.30. Never mind, he’s here now and is instantly on ball-pumping duty. More helpers begin to turn up. I point at a line of cones, “move all them back five paces please, we need more space”, I instruct, trying to sound authoritative rather than panicked. They duly oblige. Our highly qualified guest coaches, who do this for a living, arrive. I’m still on edge.
9.10. Here come the kids! The usual mix of Big 4 replica kits and those of our local professional clubs, plus a few maverick ones where dad has forced son to support a team who are not only 150 miles away, but also crap. Oh, and a smattering of ‘ones we bought on our holidays’ – some have gone for the cheap market stall ones that are still remarkably easy to come by in the Med (you know the ones that have 2 fake stripes where 3 Adidas ones should be). Others have managed to locate the one sports shop in town that sells the genuine article. I marvel at just how cool the Hadjuk Split kit is, am surprised to see it’s Umbro, and make a mental note to congratulate the dad who purchased it for his nipper.
9.30. The pre-planning is now proving worthwhile. Three groups up & running, all with a head coach and willing helpers who know the session theme this week is passing. Kids happy, parents smiling, sun shining...all under control now...
9.40. Glance over at the car park...horror. You’d expected it to be two thirds full tops, with most of them clearing within five minutes of the session’s end, making way for a similarly-sized group of u7s. But it’s full now...and you just know several u7s will turn up early as they’ve forgotten they have a later start time than last season. Run down to the area earmarked as a potential overflow car park. The grass & weeds in front of the gate are about 3 foot high, and the field on the other side of the road has become the latest port of call for our local band of travelling gypsies, who on seeing you on your mobile, enquire politely if you’re calling the police. You are actually on the ‘phone to your club chairman to ask if your set of keys features the one that unlocks the overflow car park padlock. He informs you that it doesn’t, and also says not to rely on this car park in the long term strategy as within a month it’ll be a mudbath.
10.10. No sign of the u7 parents. Great!
10.15. Ask the kids if they all enjoyed the session and will they be back next week. Raucous shouting in the affirmative. Turn to the parents and ask them ever so politely to bugger off sharpish so you can get the next lot in. They duly oblige.
10.25. Car park update: u6s parents gone, u7s parents in. Result
10.30. One of the u7s coaches informs you that whilst he has no problem with the equipment-sharing plan you unveiled earlier in the week, and whilst he appreciates it’s first week of the season and a kind of ‘live dry run’ for the weeks ahead...he has 20 kids ready to go, and only 4 footballs. You look at your pump. This time it really has given up the ghost.
10.35. You have kindly requested that the coach heading up the other u7s group alters his session plan so as he can get by with one ball between two rather than one ball per player. You know he’s a top bloke and will agree despite the obvious inconvenience. He does, and you quickly scramble 8 balls and juggle them over to the other group. You know you have a box of brand new balls in the garage. You know you MUST pump them up next week before Saturday morning.
11.30. The u7s has gone predictably smoothly, picking up where they left off last season. Just the one hiccup after the lack of balls scenario. You had a new volunteer coach along, much needed as the group in question was looking a bit light on coaches. You have a chat, seems like a good bloke, son very enthusiastic...only he should be in the u6s...
Sunday afternoon
Your eldest’s Saturday team don’t kick off til next week, your daughter’s team for a fortnight, and your u16s’ first game is away to the only side in the League with pm kick offs. Enjoy the lie-in. They’re also the free-scoring reigning champions.
1.30. The lads begin to slope up in that peculiarly teenage way. Most of them are now six footers. Some are skinny as the proverbial rake, others have bulked up in the gym. You glance at the oppo. No rakes, all gym boys. Your lads have also looked over. You know the look on their faces. They don’t think they’ve got a prayer. The Bash Street Kids vs Lord Snooty & his pals.
1.50. You’re taking a back seat this season. You’re going to focus on the girls and the little ‘uns...let your long term sidekick and trusty new volunteer deal with this bunch of testosterone-fuelled surly youths better than you ever could. They give an unremittingly positive, upbeat “on your day you can match anyone in this League” team talk. You know it’s true, you did it on occasions last year...just not against this lot...
1.59. Your star striker, who scared the living daylights out of this oppo as recently as April, announces he can’t start. His symptoms suggest he is hungover.
2.15. Despite the last minute change to the starting line up, the gameplan is going ok. You’re under pressure, but coping.
2.25. Go a goal down. And every time you venture near their penalty box, usually quality players panic – failing to shoot and misplacing passes. Pray you can make it to half time at 1-0.
2.30. 2-0. Pray you can make it to half time at 2-0.
2.45. Half time. Remind them of the game against last season’s runners up where you were 3-1 down at h/t, only to get it back to 3-3. Never mind the last minute goal that meant a 4-3 loss, the principle remains the same – with more belief and commitment, you can get back in this.
3.30. Final score: 5-0. There was no more belief, no more commitment. New coach gives unremittingly positive, upbeat “on your day you can match anyone in this League” team talk. Long term sidekick, though, is understandably hacked off after one youth has abused him when subbed. He brings it up. Short, heated debate ensues. Youth storms off. Players all look at ground.
It’s great to be back...