Jumping over fences, walking through holes in gates, broken locks on pitches, all to play football.
Why?
For the love of the game. The constant need for him to get better, feeling as if he was missing out if we didn’t train.
Waking up at 4am, leaving at 5am to start training at 6am.
The dusk, the dawn, the cold, the storm. The weather not the greatest, bags under eyes, but regardless we would train. Having bolt cutters in the car just incase they were needed. Travelling from pitch to pitch, starting as early as possible so he could come back and complete his work. The dedication was unimaginable and all for my brother.
I was lucky enough to have a talented sibling who excelled in football. Competing at a high standard for his age, the competition is tough. With lockdown dawning on us, we were limited in what we could do, where we would go but we always knew we would find a way. It was either sit and do nothing or risk to train, and so the later we did.
When the news of a virus starting to spread nationally, no one could comprehend the effect it would go on to have on society. March 2020, the month where we were first told we would be going into a national lockdown, meaning normality as we know it, taken away from us. Told to stay away from family and friends unless you’re living with them, now working from home unless you’re a key worker and yet still all I could think about was how I could make him better.
With restrictions tightening, sports and all activities were halted. Football sessions and group training had to be paused for the foreseeable future. That meant no structured training for his team, also meant we was not going to be able to use sports facilities, or did it?
Four weeks in, using bumpy grass patches at the local park, I couldn’t do it no longer. Dog faeces all over our footballs, rubbish all on the floor, no goals for him to shoot in, this was no place to train. I began to think about our five aside pitch we used normally to train at. The fresh astro turf pitches, the five aside goals with nets, the good old times.
What would I do to train there now? Questioning whether we should risk getting caught, going back and forth, before finally deciding to go ahead with it. The night before, scared thinking what would happen if we got caught? How much the fine would be? Would I go in jail? Anxious and nervous but knowing we had to do it.
Deciding to wake up at 4am that day, preparing all equipment ready to go and train at 6am. Going to our local five aside, jumping over the first fence, realising the lock on the first pitch was already broken, meaning someone had been here previous. Realising we were not alone in illegally playing on these football pitches. Realising that we finally had goals go shoot in, and astro turf to play on. Realising what we had just done. A big realisation.
Setting out cones on the pitch, getting him to dribble in and out of the cones before striking the ball cleanly into the back of the net. Boom, the sweet sound of the football hitting the back board on the five aside pitch. Remembering this is the first time in a month we had finally trained on a good surface.
Seeing his face light up as he played football, knowing he’s just a child, young and free wanting to express himself and do what he enjoys. Oblivious to the chaos that surrounds us, a virus that is deadly, breaking and entering football pitches, all apart of the struggles we faced.
Finishing the session at 8am, so we could get back in time for my brother to start his online school lesson. Traffic on the way back making us late, mum shouting at him as he walks through the door with astro all in his shoes. Running up the stairs to sign in on Google classroom. “Here Sir” he said speaking to his tutor.
Knowing we were going to do it all again the next day, but eager to train and watch him develop.
No risk, no reward.
