I’ve been a football ‘coach’ for a little over two years.
It started out as a result of being temporarily unemployed (through no fault of my own), and helping a mate out with a team he’d just taken on as a result of the previous manager leaving.
He didn’t want the team to fold as his son played for them — isn’t that the usual route into managing your local youth team? Because your child plays for them?
As a youngster, I’d played football regularly; I was relatively good, and was briefly involved with a couple of professional teams — including one that is in the Premier League here in England. This despite being told at the age of eight that I wasn’t good enough to play on the local park.
Twelve years later when I was at University, I flirted briefly with the idea of going into football coaching, but never saw it through.
But when that opportunity presented itself 110-ish weeks ago, I decided to take it. If nothing else, it gave me something to do other than feeling utterly depressed and worthless whilst seeking employment.
At that stage, I was working with lads who were classified as under-15s. That really awkward teenage/hormonal age, where they’re always right and the attitude to go with it.
I continued coaching them for two seasons; the end of the first season saw me take sole-control of the team for a couple of games as a result of my mate being unavailable. As a result of a sudden deterioration in his health, I also found myself in complete control for the second season — the winning form continued, and we ended the season as league champions and cup runners-up.
Some conflict midway through last season saw me drifting away from the team though and, when the offer of coaching the club’s under-9 team presented itself over the summer, I again took it.
The switch to Mini-Soccer
I also realised it was time I did something about becoming a more serious coach, so I undertook the Level 1 FA course.
For those who’ve completed the course already, I won’t bore you with the details — but essentially, you study child welfare and learn of the importance of a player-focussed and safe environment. There’s also a section on drills, skills and techniques — though this is built on in much greater detail in progression courses.
The team I took on at the beginning of this season had experienced success in the past. The manager is immensely proud that they won league and cup last season. The parents, too, are extremely boastful of it.
So, when we were knocked out of a pre-season friendly tournament in the league stages, I wasn’t too surprised to witness murmurings of discontent from the parents — and one or two upset players (they are only 8, after all, and it’s unlikely they know how to handle disappointment just yet!).
What the parents hadn’t appreciated, however, is that whilst each of our opposition had at least ten players to choose from, I had six — and so, for each game, our opponents had one extra player on the pitch. Each player also experienced playing in different positions — some brand new to them. Each player also had the opportunity to be captain and goalkeeper, too. And two of the six players I had to play had never played in a team before.
I’d like to point out here that, despite the restrictions as highlighted above, we came away with one win and two draws from our five games.
Six games into the season, though, and I’ve now quit that under-9 team to move back to the team I originally started out with.
There are a number of reasons why, but one of the most important for me is because of the parents of that mini-soccer team.
Previous to this season, I’d never coached in mini-soccer. I’d ‘lost’ three players from last season — a third of the squad — and replaced them with players who have never played in a football team before. The team’s record for this season — after six games — is won 3, drawn 2 and lost 1.
It’s all about Respect
This morning, I discovered a — ahem — beautiful status update from one of the parents on a well-known social media site.
The status itself was fine — but the comments that followed quickly became a personal attack on me.
It included how I “shouldn’t bother”, insinuated I didn’t know what I was doing (because we’d lost a game) and one parent even stated he knew what was needed to turn the team into “winners” — although he might be harsh on them, but it’s “what they need”.
This isn’t the Premier League. I aren’t Jurgen Klopp, Jose Mourinho or Alex Ferguson.
I give up my free time to allow ten children to play football in a safe and secure environment, whilst helping them develop as players and — more importantly — as people.
And yet, these parents fail miserably at understanding that.
They don’t understand that not only am I giving up my time, that it is time that I could be better spending developing and growing my new ventures; training and developing myself; doing something where I’m appreciated.
Because it’s not just Sunday mornings.
It’s the once-a-week evening training sessions. It’s the club meetings. The league meetings. It’s the paperwork and administration. It’s the researching training methods, drills and putting it into practice in such a way that ten children of different abilities can all equally benefit and develop.
It’s the text messages and phone calls to arrange fixtures, training and reporting results.
If I was to calculate it financially based on my hourly rate, it’d equate to £1300 per month for the club to employ me — and that’s without the expenses of me getting to the fixtures, communications and the odd bits of kit purchased out of my own pocket.
But they don’t, because I’m a volunteer.
And unlike most people involved in the club, I don’t have children participating in any of the teams because I don’t have kids.
But as you’re the parent, I RESPECT your opinion. I RESPECT you don’t have any qualifications in football development, nor have you played football at any level. I RESPECT that you haven’t sat through two first aid training programmes in the past six months in order to ensure I know what to do if you or your child falls ill or gets injured.
What I’m trying to say is — you’re right.
I don’t know what I’m doing, and I shouldn’t bother.
So, from now on, I won’t.
Instead, I’m moving back to a team that RESPECTS me.
