Football continues to occupy me. I can't remember a time when I couldn't, or didn't, kick a ball around. I am the oldest of three brothers, and the house we grew up in has a gable end wall facing on to a sloping grass bank, pavement and a road. It's on a council estate and in the 1960s and 70s there weren't as many cars around as today so the wall and its surroundings became our training ground. The wall was the goal and everything else was the pitch. Rules were few, and were negotiated according to prevailing conditions. Passing cars would enforce a time-out, passing adults could change the course of the game by deciding to join in and blasting in a few goals and heading pubwards, and a passing game involving the ball being played along the ground was nigh on impossible because of the physical conditions. The kerbs, the steps and the slope all came into play.
We all became decent players, not professional standard but able to get a game anywhere we fetched up in life. We could all take, and make, crunching tackles. We could pass the ball long, to head or feet, and control long balls that came our way. And we could SHOOT! There's such a feeling of satisfaction when you hear the whump of a football smacked against a wall, and if nobody else was available to play then you could spend hours with just a ball and the wall, smacking shots in from all angles. It frustrates me when I see professionals miss the target, and I realise that the pressure that they're under is intense, but it's such a straightforward and rewarding skill.
When I was 11 I read a 'Roy of the Rovers' coaching tip saying that it was important to be able to control and pass the ball with both feet, and that therefore more practice time should be devoted to the weaker foot. I was naturally left-footed, which already gave me an advantage in getting selected for teams, so I spent hours hitting the ball at the wall with my right foot, and controlling it as it came back. Within a few months I was two-footed and I had become a utility player, somebody who could be used in pretty much any position except goalkeeper. The time spent kicking a ball at that wall helped me in more than developing ball skills. I was a shy and nervy kid, especially after my dad died, and football gave me a place to mix with people, to make friends and develop confidence.
From Langley Avenue and 2nd Whitley Bay Cubs Under 8s through high school, boys clubs, college and numerous Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday league teams I played football regularly until, at the age of 40, I found out that I was breakable. I was playing in a 7-a-side league on an astroturf pitch and I went into a 50-50 tackle. My foot hit the ball at the same time as the other player's. We were both fully committed, but contact was with the ball and not each other. I felt the force of it and I was surprised by the intense pain around my right ankle. I couldn't understand how the other guy was on his feet while I was rolling around on the floor. The ball had gone out for a throw to us so at least I could take some satisfaction from that. I was in so much pain that I remember thinking that I couldn't have broken my leg because breaks usually result in people lying still, unable to move. I crawled off the pitch, watched the last ten minutes of the match, and then tried to stand up. The pain was unbearable. Where were those endorphins when I needed them? A friend who had been playing on the next pitch was a doctor. He took my shoe off, smiled, calmly organised a group of fellow players to get me in the back of my car, and told my brother to get me straight to A and E. My leg was broken and I'd suffered ankle ligament damage. More importantly, and more damaging for my lifelong love of football, I'd lost my spirit and belief. When I was fit again I couldn't muster the commitment, the passion or the joy that had always been features of my game. I continued playing 5-a-side for a while, but they were gone.
And now there's not a day goes by that I don't remember what it was like. I loved the physicality, the intensity, the feel of the ball at my feet, the synchronicity between thought and action as I passed it from one side of the pitch to the other. I don't have any of that any more, and I miss it so much. I love so much about my life, but I can't think of many things that have felt as natural to me as the beautiful game, football.
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