Don't run!

This is not about running. The stories revolves around football but it's not really about that either.

My ol' man said be an Arsenal fan…

My first interest in football was around 1984 (Jeez! I sound so OLD!!) when Liverpool won the European Cup beating Roma on penalties with the goalkeeper, Bruce Grobbelaar and his spaghetti legs doing their best to put the Italian strikers off. Back then I was a Liverpool fan, as were most of my North London school just off the Caledonian Road.

I watched my first live game in that same year, it was Arsenal vs Liverpool at Highbury. My Dad and Uncle Joe are diehard Arsenal fans, they were always encouraging me to change allegiance and support my local team Arsenal. I watched from the North Bank to witness my team Liverpool get beat 3-1 by Arsenal….before reaching home that evening I had become an Arsenal fan. 

It was probably around this time when I joined my first football team playing in the imaginary league in my Grandad's garden on the Tufnell Park Road. As I got older and learned more about football, I started to document the scores and scorers in my imaginary games, as well as keep track of the league table. I also kept track of the other imaginary games that were being "played".

Primary School

It wasn't all imaginary. I played football in the school playground at St Raphael's Primary. I wasn't as good there but I slowly learned to be better in goal and would often happily dive on concrete.

High School

In High School, I was surrounded by better players, notably The Gells. Twin brothers with Spanish origins who brought a bit of continental flair to the playground. They were doing step-overs, 360 degree turns and all sorts of wizardry with the ball. I slowly started to learn these skills but was never in the same class as The Gells.

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to play for a football team, not just an imaginary one. I went for the school team trials but never got in. Playing in a real match was a lot different to the school playground. In the playground we never had corners or throw-ins as the ball never went out.

Amsterdam

In the late 80s, I went on a school football trip to Amsterdam. I remember having the silver England goalkeeper kit that Peter Shilton wore at the time. I was still keen on being a goalkeeper.

I got a bit of stick for being on this trip. Some questioned why I was there when I wasn't even in the school team. I was probably encouraged to go thanks to my best friend at the time, Martin Hanley, the team's goalkeeper. I didn't care about the stick I was happy to be there.

I was a substitute in our first game, not as a goalkeeper but as an outfield player. I made my school team debut coming on in the second half in place of the team's main striker, Matt Doyle. He wasn't happy to come off for me and was one of the ones who had given me stick. I managed to score in this game, poking the ball into the net from the six yard box after a bit of scramble. I celebrated the goal as if I scored the winner in the World Cup, jumping for joy and then running towards the centre circle with my hand aloft. It was only a friendly warm-up match.

In the second friendly game, I started on the right wing. The only thing I remember from this game is the penalty. A penalty was awarded to us with the scores even at 1-1. The key players were arguing over who was going to take it. I was looking over from the wing, when I heard our manager, Mr Mason, shout "Tony! TONY!"…I snapped out of my day dream and looked up. Mr Mason then said "Tony's taking it". The players stood back as I walked towards the ball.

As I put the ball on the spot and stepped back to take it I wasn't nervous. After all, I had taken many penalties in my imaginary games and never missed! 

I ran towards the ball, pulling my right leg back and releasing the trigger, I stroked the ball straight to the  keeper. The keeper didn't even need to move. Worst of all it was captured on video camera and was later played repeatedly on the coach.

When the tournament started a few days later, I played a couple of games coming on as a substitute. I think we finished 3^rd in the end and we each received a small plastic shield each. I still have mine in a box somewhere. During our team awards night, I received an accolade (a banana from the fruit bowl in the restaurant) for being the most improved player of the tournament.

Later back in the UK, I got called up for the School's B Team. I was so excited to see my name on the list….but sadly the match never happened as it was postponed but never rescheduled. I never ended up playing for the school again after Amsterdam.

Drayton Wanders

The inspiration behind this blog post.

In the days before the internet it was hard to find a football team to join. Your best hope was to find something in the local newspaper or join your friend's team. My friend Martin suggested that we go along to this team after he saw it advertised in his local newspaper. I think I was around 14 years old at the time.

After a few training sessions, a friendly match was set up to decide who would be picked for the squad for the coming season. I played in central defence. I only remember two things about the game. The first being when the opponent's winger got free down the wing and I slid in with a perfect tackle putting the ball out for a throw-in. My other memory from the game was when I directed our captain to mark someone for the corner that was about to be taken. I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't amused but he marked the guy anyway.

After the game, the manager sat us all down in the park and read out the names of people who had made the squad… I waited nervously…and then my name was called to my relief. I had made the squad at the expense of some of the team's friends. I got a bit of abuse from the others as I walked across the field to the bus stop. I was basically told I was shit and didn't deserve to be in the squad.

Just before the season started, there was a five-a-side tournament just off the A40 near Northolt. I made my own way there from Hayes in Middlesex, which is where I lived at the time. 

It was at this tournament where I had a chance to redeem myself after the penalty miss in Amsterdam. The game ended in a draw so it was then down to a penalty shoot-out to decide the winner. I told the manager that I'm not very good at penalties so he got me to take mine last in hope that the match would be settled before it got to my turn. Neither team missed, it was 5-4, with me taking the last penalty. Score, we go to sudden death and we have a chance to stay in the tournament. Miss, we're out of the tournament. I was under a lot of pressure…my team hated me. I stepped up and shot straight at the keeper again!! The other team celebrated the win….whilst my team surrounded me and screamed at me…using this miss as justification that I shouldn't be in the squad.

I turned up for the first game of the season a few weeks later. The first game was at home which I started but I was substituted before the end of the 90 minutes. I don't remember anything about this game. A few more games into the season, I would come on as a substitute or not play at all, which was frustrating because I always felt I played well but I would still turn up every week.

The away trips were the worst. For those that didn't have transport, we would squeeze into the back of the Manager's Vauxhall Astra van which was full of plumbing tools and piping. There were about 6 of us in the back of the van. For the whole journey to the away games the others in the back were throwing balls and boots at my head whilst screaming abuse at me. It was the same for the journeys back to Drayton. All I did was try to defend myself. There was one occasion when we got out of the van, one of the kids swung for me with his boot bag and was caught by the Manager. The Manager suspended him for a month and of course the other players blamed me for it.

In the match that followed, I was in the side in place of the guy who got suspended. Members of the team said that I got him purposely suspended so that I could get picked. However, the best quote came from the captain as we lined up for the game to start. "Don't you dare fuck up!!" he said. I played the game of my life and we never conceded a goal until I got substituted towards the end of the game. Some of the team said I shouldn't have been substituted because I was playing so well. The captain congratulated me for having a good game. Even the guy who was suspended praised me for having a good game. So all was good and amazingly the abuse stopped.

I started to get picked more often but never completed 90 minutes. The manager had a habit of substituting me before the end of the game no matter how well I was playing. However, I still would turn up every week in hope that I would get to play.

Conclusion 

So this blog is not really about running – if anything, it's about not running away. It's about sticking with something, working at it, despite the obstacles and negativity.