So the time had come for me to play (or rather feature) in the club’s first
pre-season friendly. It seemed an oddly late date to have your first pre-season friendly only 9 days before the start of the
season (2 more after this had been scheduled) but arranging fixtures at this level can be a difficult task. The club has a big squad this season and we had a squad of
about 18-19 players for the first friendly, with about 5 or 6 first-team
regulars missing through holidays or injuries! Our opponents were 2 steps
higher than us in the pyramid, which did fill me with a fair amount of
pre-match nerves as it would be my first game at this sort of level for almost
3 years. I did, however, take comfort from remembering that the last time I
played a first-team friendly for my last team at the equivalent level, also
against a team 2 steps higher, I came on at half-time with the scores level,
had an absolute stormer despite being physically roughed up a bit and we romped home
to a crushing victory (I like to tell people that one with my tongue firmly in the cheek when they take the piss out of my ability). If I'm out of practice, I get very nervous before games – I can remember every single game I’ve played where my
nerves have been very intense and it really isn’t pleasant, especially as I was
a sub for most of them. Strange as it seems, in most of these games, if not all
of them, I’ve gone on to put in good performances. At this point I would like
to mention nerves. In my experience a number of managers are very dismissive
towards nervous or nervous-looking players and don’t know how to deal with
them. Being nervous before a game is not necessarily a bad thing – a common
cliché is that “if you go out there with nerves you’ll make silly mistakes”, so
instead you’re told to “stop being so nervous”, “be confident”, or even worse,
“man up”. It isn’t so simple that a player will suddenly gain confidence if his
manager tells him to. Nerves come for various reasons – lack of match practice,
inexperience in a certain situation, lack of morale following poor performances
or a myriad of other factors, and so on. It’s not necessarily ostensible either
when a manager deals with player nerves. He won’t necessarily have a go at the
player, instead maybe ignore him or exchange uncertain glances, which in turn
would be more likely to increase the player’s unease. Subconscious rather than conscious. As I said, though, it’s
OK to be nervous as firstly footballers are human beings with changeable
emotions and secondly nerves can be
harnessed to increase performance. When I get nervous, it usually increases my
concentration and keeps me switched on during a game, meaning some mistakes
(e.g. losing my marker, failing to cover a team-mate or spot danger) are less
likely.
Of course, with different players nerves can have the opposite effect. What they may do also is affect a player’s ability to physically do something like control a ball or accurately place a pass,
but as these things aren’t the hardest tasks to execute on a football pitch,
they can be and are usually overcome. Once I
had my first couple of touches my nerves would usually disappear and turn into
confidence, so I feel treating nerves with disdain rather than encouragement is
unnecessary, and in fact shows a fear of nerves themselves. When I was about
15, my old Sunday League manager who ranted at me during training and told me I
hadn’t improved in 3 years had a go at me before a game. I was selected to
start the game and he was giving his pre-match ‘team-talk’ before he gave me a
few instructions. I can’t remember what they were, but I nodded silently in
acknowledgement of what he said (I was a very quiet one, and very different to
most people my age). His reaction to this was to direct at me a volley of
criticism for “acting frightened” in front of the squad, before ordering me to
“brave myself up.” He then gave me a load of rhetorical questions – I just
stood there blankly, shrugging. My lack of response triggered further wild
epileptic gesticulations and facial expressions from him before I quietly said
“I dunno what you want me to say”, to which he flapped his arms a bit more and
turned away in disgust. I guess I gave off quite a sheepish look when I was
younger, the manager of my very first club asked me why I looked so sheepish
before I played my first ever game for them. Anyway, I duly had a shocker and was subbed at half-time, with the manager telling the lads in the team
talk that I would be coming off because “I can’t play football”, but that’s
another story. There will be plenty on that prick in later entries. Being nervous is such a horrible over-simplification, and I've found that not enough people manage to deal with this effectively - a slap on the back is a nice little gesture but that's all it is, a little gesture. The words it tells equates to little more than a motivational soundbite.
Back to this pre-season friendly,
and we left the changing room to warm up on the pitch 45 minutes or so before
kick-off. We did a few drills of various body movements to get the blood
flowing and then some passing stuff. At one point the manager told us we
“looked like a Sunday morning side” and to be switched on. Then, during a
passing drill where the ball was continuously played square along the start
line before players made diagonal runs to an opposite cone, I managed to
misplace a pass (I’ll say it was the bobbly surface) which sent the manager
into a stern monologue of “if you can’t make a basic 5-yard pass without the
ball bobbling you shouldn’t be here.” Credit where it’s due, this guy does make
sure you stay switched on. Obviously criticisms like that (especially those
which infer your ability is lower than the level you’re playing at) aren’t nice
to hear but I guess (speaking from my experience here) when you’ve heard enough
of them you learn the importance of not taking these at face value. It doesn’t
actually mean that the manager doesn’t rate you – it’s just his way of telling
you that you’re better than that and trying to keep you at the standard he
believes you to be. I suppose, depending on the type of player you are, it can
drive you on not to make a mistake or make you more nervous, but mistakes can
happen for various reasons, so we shouldn’t be making too much of off-the-cuff
remarks. Perhaps I should have learned all this earlier. And some people won't, and that is a problem.
In the changing room again, the
pre-match team talk consisted of the manager telling us that this team, despite
being two levels higher, wouldn’t be any better than us technically or as
individual players, but we would have to stand up to their physicality and not
be overpowered. I actually managed to record some of the talk on my mobile
phone – it mainly consists of him emphasising the value of effort, ‘giving
100%’ and teamwork. He mentioned how the club would be operating with a large
first-team squad and that competition for places was very high and no positions
were safe. Therefore, the players had to be (seen to be) giving 100%. He made a
point that about 6 first-team regulars from the previous season were missing
that night through injury, holidays or other commitments so every player would
be assessed starting from this game. After the stern words of warning, we were
told to enjoy the game before the customary rousing applause and shouting in a
farrago of masculinity as we prepared to leave the changing rooms. This is
something I’ve never understood nor been able to immerse myself in. I realise
the aim is to get the players pumped up so they feel ready for the start of the
game, but I don’t need aggression and shouting for a release of adrenaline in
my body. I just find it weird, and I’m not sure how it’s meant to intimidate
the opposition either. It’s happened at pretty much every club I’ve played for,
including playing for a mate’s team in a non-competitive league. For me, there
are plenty of other ways to motivate yourself for a game, and it seems to be a
symptom of the attitude we adopt to football based on power, aggression and so
on.
On to the game itself, and the
manager was proven right for the most part. The opposition weren’t anything
special and watching from the sidelines from the first half, our players were
more than capable of matching them. I was both heartened and unnerved by how
comfortable our players looked in possession for most of the game – on the one
hand, it seemed our players often had plenty of time and space on the ball to
find their passes accurately, on the other hand, the cynic in me noticed that I
had a high standard to match and couldn’t let the side down by getting the
basics wrong. This is just general nerves, really, and you work out how to use
them to your advantage – it can be comforting for you if a team-mate misplaces
a simple pass, for example. It isn’t a case of Schadenfreude, it doesn’t mean
you want them to make a mistake, it
merely reminds you that they are humans themselves, and prone to mishaps. Again,
I suppose it’s my way of dealing with jitters – I don’t think I can pretend not
to feel nerves. That will apply to many people, and many other people need to
start understanding that. I’d like to make a point about observing the game as
a substitute too. I feel it’s useful to pay attention as much as possible when
watching from the sidelines, when from my experience most people at a lower
level of football prefer just to have a chat. They’ll still be watching the
game of course and making observations, but not really taking it in, not in the true sense of the word. That’s what
I’ve tended to find anyway. For me, it’s important to balance your
interpretation of how the game is unfolding and therefore what you might be
expected of you when you come on with keeping the body warmed up. From
concentrating on the game I might work out particular runs that an opposition
player makes and figure out how to stop him, or even runs that my own player is
making and figure out how I can play the ball onto one of his runs. From this
game I noticed that the opposition central midfielders rarely went with their opposite
number if they went towards the defence to collect the ball, and even if they
did it wasn’t high-intensity pressing, meaning I could have space to pick out
passes in my own half and perhaps build from the back if I came on in my
preferred position. Of course, you can’t do this too much at the expense of
losing your blood flow, so concentrating on yourself from time to time and
performing a routine of warm-up exercises and stretches is also advised so you
put yourself at the minimum possible physical disadvantage when coming on.
We took the lead in this game with
a well-worked goal but they equalised with a penalty after half time (the
lead-up to which I missed although our players were adamant no offence was
committed). At times they did play percentages to press us back towards our own
goal but they were capable of playing neat stuff once they’d got up the pitch.
Our manager didn’t always agree with our style, mind. At one point in the first
half, we had a free-kick near our own penalty area and our manager wanted us to
force an attack from it. One of our defenders played it five yards square to
his team-mate which gave rise to a flurry of cursing from the manager. It was
exacerbated when we lost the ball in our own half a couple of passes later, prompting
questions of “why didn’t you just get it up there?” Obviously it’s frustrating
to lose the ball like that when starting in possession under pretty much no
pressure, but it’s equally frustrating to hear shouts to get it forward. What’s
more, the risk of misplacing a short pass in a dangerous area shouldn’t deter
players from trying to play there, but shouting at players for trying to build
a move from deep rather than getting it forward quickly discourages them from
it, even though next time they may successfully work the ball up the pitch. At
the very base of grassroots football we shouldn’t be surprised if this happens
and it obviously needs to be addressed, but to still hear stuff like this
halfway down the non-league pyramid annoys me. The thing is, this could happen as
managers may be using a tactic of aiming for a big striker up front to win a
flick-on and an indirect free-kick presents us with a perfect opportunity to do
that. Not only that, but he (from a club-centric point of view, rightly so) sees
winning and success for the club as more important than playing possession
football. Even in a pre-season friendly where no points are at stake it is
still important these games are for trialling systems and getting the players
used to playing in them. It’s a very tough dilemma when you bring our
footballing culture into the picture. I suppose again it would have to start at youth level, but I think it would be a fallacy to say that academies of pro clubs don't encourage their players to keep the ball in defence - the very grass roots that feed these academies will need to learn more broadly the significance of playing it short in defence, even when the temptation is there to launch it forward.
I eventually came on for the last
15 minutes of the game when our manager decided to make his last batch of substitutions,
and got to play in my best position. I was surprised at how well I did
considering the last time I played at this sort of standard, and didn’t suffer
any confidence crisis when I went onto the pitch. I saw plenty of the ball as
we built from the back lots and got into good positions to receive it from them
and then pick out subsequent passes. I would say I was disappointed that the
game didn’t last longer but that would be a lie, as despite the encouraging
cameo, I was already blowing out of my arse by the end – a combination I think
of a lack of serious match practice, my body feeling the effects of the
constant pre-season training and other aerobic exercise I’d been doing other
days, and probably not warming up quite well enough as a sub (I started to
relax around the hour mark as I didn’t think I’d get on – a fatal and naïve
error I know). It was a promising start for me and a nice confidence boost
before I left for a week’s holiday the next day.
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