THE BOY HAS PASSION – MANUFACTURING A PRIMA DONNA

Under 7s football under the watchful eye of the big boys.

My son’s football team was recently invited to the training facilities of a Premiership club. We both eagerly anticipated a tournament whereby matches were organised and refereed for local under-7s teams – a fair assumption based on a previous visit. That trip was a positive experience for my son and I measured that statement by his enthusiasm for the latest invite. I also hoped that the boys would perhaps benefit from some coaching from the club’s staff. That may have been a big ask, but it was possible – perhaps.

For now, we’ll call the club Melchester. By the end of the evening I felt that the local teams’ role was as cannon-fodder for Melchester’s own under-7s teams. So as not to appear green-eyed with envy, I’ll avoid making (m)any comments on Melchester’s player selection criteria and instead make my observations from the perspective of a mere parent of a seven-year-old boy.

The three non-Melchester teams were ready to play by 5.45pm and took to the pitches. Our boys waited for an hour before the first game due to the Melchester teams arriving much later and naturally bagging the first matches. Our guys sat out and waited then made up for this by playing three subsequent matches back-to-back. This was obviously not a tournament hence there being no need for any fixture planning.

Rather than bang on with a list of petty misdemeanors it’s fair to summarise by saying that the games were only of selective interest to the Melchester staff (who were definitely not there to referee). Was it that there were so many of them there that no single person assumed responsibility for any one game? On second thoughts, I will now harp on with a selective list of petty diatribe in the interests of personal self-therapy.

• When trying to do his goalkeeper’s kick, our goalie was jumped at twice, studs up by a Melchester player. Admittedly, this was more out of (over-)enthusiasm than malice. All referees (assuming they are present) miss things but to miss something so blatant twice raises questions.
• Another non-Melchester boy was blasted by the ball (a total accident and these things are not uncommon) but was left on the floor while play went on around him. His own coach eventually had to run on amid play and rescue him.

For the last match our team played a fellow non-Melchester team. Fortunately the lights were left on for us. The boys lined up in the centre-circle with repeated shouts of “can we start yet?” to try and attract the attention of the few remaining Melchester staff. As this year’s harvest of seven-year-olds had already occurred, the remaining boys were most likely deemed of little interest. However, if a club chooses to invite children to their facilities then there is at least a duty of care to their welfare – if not their aspirations – regardless of ability.

There have been some fantastic tournaments of late – the Penkridge Summer Cup 2011 being one such example. This Melchester trip was not one of them. There are some commendable community initiatives in the Midlands run by organisations which are far more cash-strapped. In spite of my total disdain for the current board, the community football which Port Vale offer is excellent (assuming John is there). I hypocritically break my vow of starving the current regime out of office and pay the four quid (and travel 70+ miles) as my son enjoys the session so much. John has a fantastic rapport with the kids and helps them to respect each other while not curbing their enthusiasm to compete. Four Oaks School of Soccer is also excellent. By the end of a week there and aged just five, my initially shy son had joined in with the snack-time joke-telling to a large group of new friends.

Oh… and on the subject of selection: a lad who in several previous encounters with our team had kicked, pushed and stamped on our boys (both on and off the ball) had made the cut. This boy has passion.