Operation stake-out

I’m sitting in my car at the bottom of our street when wife taps on the window.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asks.

‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m in the middle of a stake-out.’ Sometimes it stuns me how slow she is on the uptake. Has this woman even seen the Emilio Estevez and Richard Dreyfuss movie?

‘And,’ she says, sighing, ‘who exactly is the subject of your stake-out?’

‘The kid I cut from my team, the one you told me might have cut my new soccer net.’ As if she wouldn’t know that.

‘I was only joking when I said that,’ she says.

‘Well, I’m not. This is very serious. I want that boy in jail for criminal damage.’

‘Firstly honey, I don’t think any court will put a nine or ten year old in prison for cutting a net.’

‘We’ll see about that. Or at least we might if you get away and stop blowing my cover.’

‘Do you mind me asking how you propose to prove he did this?’

‘I have my phone ready to record his confession,’ I say, stunned at her lack of awareness at how these things work. She’s living proof of the unfortunate side-effects of not watching enough TV.

‘And how will you get him to confess?’

‘I figure once he sees me he’ll be so scared that he’ll blurt it right out.’

‘Okay, honey,’ she says, pausing as if going to deliver some advice on how best to get a crook to cop a plea. No, just more negativity from her. ‘Please come home now. It’s almost eight o’clock. I doubt that the kid will be out and about much for the rest of the night.’

‘No way. I’m here until it’s dark and I’m going to be here every evening after work, apart from when I’m running a practice or am too tired. I’m not giving up. Remember, I only have to be lucky once. He has to be lucky all the time.’

She walks away and I check the passenger seat to make sure my binoculars have the covers off.

Hate the player development not the game

My enthusiasm for the new season has been tempered already. After just one practice. Nothing to do with the players complaining when I made them run 25 laps of the field as a warm-up before working on some box-to-box sprints for half an hour. It’s not even the Botoxed weatherman parent annoying me about worrisome cloud formations. No, it’s the president of the club. Up to his old tricks. He sent an email to all coaches this morning reminding us our first priorities are player development, character building and skills enhancement. Yup, it’s a regular losers’ manifesto where the word “winning” is notable for its absence.

Suitably appalled by this defeatism, I decide to put a new section in my coaching manuscript. It’ll be a translation guide at the back of the book, an appendix designed to help newcomers to the game understand the true meaning of buzz words and phrases. First on the litany is “player development”.

Player development is a word you will hear a lot in travel team soccer, mostly used by higher-ups to convey the impression that they don’t care about winning or trophies as long as the players are improving year on year. In reality player development is a phrase that is the last refuge of every bad coach, an excuse for not winning, and a way of placating dumb parents into thinking the coach is doing a good job. Essentially, player development is code for failing to win and learning to lose, two things you never want your kids exposed to. It is usually deployed by the type of coaches who like to give equal playing time to all squad members regardless of ability and who waste hours of practice time working on improving their players’ technical ability. Regularly used also to explain losing seasons. Sample: “We lost more games than we won but in terms of player development we learned a lot in this campaign.”

Decide this section of the book will be dedicated to El Presidente, the lover of losing.

Thunder road

The problem when you sign new players is you never know what kind of parents you are going to get. Before a ball is kicked at the first practice of the season tonight, I’m assailed by a father. Guy in a dapper suit, hair combed and pasted to within an inch of its life.

‘Hi there, I’m ____, my son is ____’ he says, sounding suspiciously like Troy McClure from The Simpsons.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ I respond, trying not to encourage any further conversation.

‘I hope you’ll be keeping an eye on the skies coach, there’s a threat of thunderstorms this evening.’

These parents and their weather obsession. It’s either too hot or too cold for their precious little darlings to practice. And the mere possibility of thunder and lightning has them quaking in their boots. Do they really think one of their kids will get fried out on the field by a bolt from Thor?

‘I hadn’t noticed’, I lie, turning my back so I’m no longer staring at the apocalyptic black cloud looming in the distance.

‘I’m a meteorologist, by the way,’ continues Guy Smiley, ‘you may have seen me on the TV news.’

Now he’s getting annoying.

‘That’s your job?’ I ask.

‘Yeah,’ he says, mistakenly getting the idea I’m impressed by this occupation.

‘Wow. I thought you guys were all toupee-wearing holograms onto which they project the same tired, old lines and fake personality implants every single day and night to save money.’

He laughs at this like I’m joking.

‘I’m actually a highly-trained professional,’ he says in the same tone he obviously uses when bantering with the newsroom blonde for the benefit of the cameras, ‘and I’ll be keeping an eye on the weather just for you.’

I walk over to where the kids are gathered, and, along the way, resolve that his son will never, ever start a game for this team.

Achtung Baby!

Even with my Teflon status at work, I still can’t wangle a trip to New York city today to gatecrash the Jurgen Klinsmann press conference at Niketown. Of course, I sit down to watch it at my computer this morning and just get more and more frustrated at the soccer journalists who are in that room. Why oh why don’t they ask him the hard questions? Here is a list of questions they should have but didn’t ask Herr Klinsmann on his first day in office.

1.      When you first saw the movie “Victory”, did you cheer for the Allies or the Germans in the soccer match in Paris?

2.      Would you be prepared to try to convert an American football player into a soccer goalkeeper as Michael Caine did so successfully with Sylvester Stallone in that movie?

3.      During your time at Tottenham Hotspur in England, you apparently drove a Volkswagen Beetle around London in a blatant FU to the British automobile industry. Will you continue to drive a German tank or will you now be prepared to do the right thing and drive a real car like a Chevy or a Cadillac?

4.      Will you be coaching the players in simulation given how good you were at diving in your heyday?

5.      Your bio claims you’ve been living in California for years. Have you ever visited the mainland United States before today?

6.      Will you be bringing the famous German sense of humor to this job with you?

That not a single reporter saw fit to ask even one of these sums up the problems facing the American media in the 21^st century.

The league of extraordinary dictators

Still reeling from the appointment of the German as our national coach (notice not a word from Obama on this outsourcing!), I decide not to bother emailing Sunil Gulati about the lack of native candidates interviewed for the position and to concentrate on my own team. I’m more determined than ever to show the authorities that a grass-roots appointment like me would have been the best way forward for USMNT!

A few weeks back, I filled in all of the necessary league forms for the forthcoming season. In the box asking which U-11 division I felt my team should play in, I asked to be kept at the same level even though we won almost every game of our last campaign. I attached an explanatory note pointing out that we’d be losing a lot of key players and will be a lot weaker so we shouldn’t be promoted up a level.

The thinking behind this very blatant lie was simple. I want my now even stronger team in a division where we can beat up on opponents every week, not play competitive matches against our equals. Do you think these players will learn anything from eking out 1-1 ties against sides of comparable talent to them? Do you think parents want to watch their sons playing out epic 2-1 close encounters when they could be watching them trample weaker kids by six and seven goals every Saturday morning?

Despite what the, ahem, genius running the USSF might think, I’ve been around this game long enough to know the answer to those questions. Imagine my horror then when I log onto the league website this morning to find the dictators running the league have promoted my team up not one but two divisions! Thankfully, the benevolent despots offer all coaches the chance to plead their case if they feel their team was wrongfully assigned. I throw back a coffee and type in his address.

To: guywhorunstheleagueandobviouslyhasnolifeandnoclueaboutcompetitivesoccer@league.com...

The not so good German

‘I need to take a half-day boss,’ I say, not even waiting to sit down in his office before blurting it out.

‘What’s up?’ he replies.

‘It’s personal. I just need some time.’

‘You gotta give me more than that,’ he asks in the tone of somebody who is now a friend rather than an employer.

‘It’s the United States Soccer Federation. They’ve broken my heart.’

‘What have they done?’

‘They’ve only gone and outsourced the management of our national team to a German.’

‘No? Who is this guy?’

‘Jurgen Klinsmann.’

‘Does he know anything about the game?’

‘Well not as much as me of course. I mean, he was a half-decent player in his time, I think he won a World Cup, and he was really, really good at diving.’

‘Why would they opt for him over somebody like you though?’

‘See, as a newcomer to the game, you won’t know this but American soccer is a place where accent trumps ability. If you speak in the clipped tones of somebody for whom English is a second language, it sounds much more impressive than if you have a regular New York accent.

‘No way?’

‘Oh yeah and this rule applies at all levels of the game. Give parents a choice between two equally qualified coaches, one from Europe, one from the mid-West, and they’ll always opt for the European. It has always been this way and now, thanks to Sunil Gulati and the USSF, it’s going to be so for evermore.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the first rule of American soccer is the foreigner knows better.’

;So this German guy, Clingfilm or whatever, will he do a good job?’

‘Not on the available evidence. His only successful spell as a coach came when he had a bright assistant who was the brains of the operation called Joachim Low. Once he doesn’t have Low, he’s clueless.’

‘But why have they gone for him?’

‘Have you not been paying attention? It’s simple. The accent. If in doubt, always go for the accent. He may not know what he’s talking about but it will take people a lot longer to figure that out!’

‘Take a half day, coach,’ says the boss. ‘Take more if you need it. Don’t let the USSF grind you down.’

At least there’s somebody in the world who feels my pain today.

Fear and loathing on the coaching trail

I can barely summon up the energy to write today. I’m too angry and too worried about the future direction of this country. Earlier today, I read a press release from an organization called “The League of Fans” about its campaign for a more humanistic approach to coaching kids.

“We’ve been conditioned in this country that coaches – from the pros down to our youth leagues — have to adopt a Vince Lombardi coaching style: treat athletes inhumanely, and motivate them by force and fear,” said some character called Ralph Nader. “That notion is archaic and barbaric. Our sports culture needs to evolve from the dark ages and transition to more humanistic coaching styles that enhance the overall sports experience for athletes while still striving to win games.”

I initially thought this had to be a spoof story from “The Onion” or from one of the other coaches in the soccer club trying to play a prank on me. But no, I Googled it. It’s apparently for real. I do not know who this Nader character is or what he’s actually done with his life. I’m not sure whether he’s ever had to try to get a group of 10 year old boys to hang on to a 1-0 lead in the teeth of a gale-force wind. I’ve yet to hear if he knows what it’s like having to motivate the most pampered generation in American history to fight for travel team glory!

Whatever his background, Nader is at the very least guilty of un-American activity here. What else do you call it when somebody advocates yet more wussifying of our children? Force and fear are the very cornerstones of all successful youth coaching in this country. Take those away and what are we to use to get the kids to play harder? Positive reinforcement? Words of whispered praise? Pats on the back when things go wrong???

It’s a small and chilling step from there to participation medals for every player, equal playing time for all, and coaches not being allowed to roar abuse at their charges. Nader must be stopped!!!