Cup Final Day – its Sunday, 6.15 am and I’m wide awake still thinking about team selection. If I’ve learnt anything this season, it is that you can bend over backwards for the kids’ parents and you’ll still never make some happy.
My father-in-law died a week ago. Things have been tough. Life goes on I know, but he would have been here today to watch Harrison play. He came to a few games in the past. He’d come along with his wife Marge, watch and You wouldn’t even know they were there. No shouting or ‘encouraging’ as it’s called these days. He would have loved it today.
I look up and can see Alfie in the stands. You can spot him a mile away because he’s got a huge red foam hand that his grandad got for him. He’s here in spirit most definitely. I wish he was here, I miss him terribly. His death has hit everyone hard.
On cup final days you imagine that nothing can go wrong because it’s been planned for ages. We’ve talked it through, we’ve trained for it and we’ve planned it to the finest detail. Which is why I’m reminded of Michael Douglas in the film Falling Down, a man one bluebottle away from meltdown, when Corey the keeper turns up with no boots or gloves. They’re locked in the car and he can’t get them. ‘Whhaaatttt?’
To put this into perspective Corey has already turned up twenty minutes late, we are kicking off in less than half an hour. The ground is partly on the rat run for Manchester’s Ikea and he’s telling me he’ll be back soon, he’s just nipping home! Off he goes into a swell of supporters as I feel the effects of another hair gently leaving my head, never to return.
I hastily ask around the other coaches whether anyone has any spare gloves, they don’t. Family and friends are trying to talk to me but I need to be on the pitch, the players need warming up. I finally get pitch side and tell Ben what’s happened. We decide that Leighton is our best option for replacement keeper, only he doesn’t want to do it. I can’t blame him, I wouldn’t want to either.
I should be soaking all this up. We’re at the Tameside Stadium, there’s a big crowd of supporters in the stands and the sun has made an appearance, all as it should be on cup final day. However I’m a goalkeeper down and it’s ten minutes to kick off. Suddenly as if by magic, Corey appears, in boots and gloves. If this was Hollywood he’d probably arrive on a white swan with trumpets blaring out Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto, declaring he was here to save the day. As it happens he just smirks and says ‘Chill Steve’ another hair tumbles.
I look out to the stands and hope that all the people that have turned up wont be disappointed with the result. It sounds daft but I feel quite emotional, it’s been a journey for all of us, the ups and downs, the freezing weather, the rain, the cheap coffee. Six months ago we didn’t have a club and now here we are a cup final.
This isn’t about ego, its about sharing. It’s about a group of parents coming together every weekend to support and cheer on their loved ones. All of us as one, all pulling together after a bad week at work, or another stack of bills landing on the doormat. A chance to be with our children and enjoy watching them having fun and hopefully winning.
Extracts from Steve O’Donoghues’ Grassroots Diary.
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