We turned up at the game, arriving at 9:30 as the WhatsApp message had suggested. A couple of parents were waiting in front of the coffee house next to the park, and a few kids were shouting my boy’s name. One of them even ran to him and literally hugged him. This was very nice to see. Two mothers were there, to whom I introduced myself briefly, but I hadn’t seen them at the training ground before, so I didn’t know who was who. They asked me where the game was, and I said, “I don’t know; I’ve never been here. I just followed the postcode.” We agreed we’d have to wait for the coach.
I had the coach’s phone number, but I didn’t want to bother him with a call. I expected him to show up by 9:40. As time ticked on, I started to feel uneasy and decided to walk around. There were several football pitches all over the place, including on the other side of the road. I walked about 200 yards and saw a huge football pitch with two small goals set up and a few players standing around. I shouted the manager’s name from afar, but nobody turned their heads. I went over to ask a bystander if our team was playing there. He replied, “Yes, this is definitely the venue.”
I rushed back to the ladies and told them to come. Since I had already been walking around, I arrived back at the pitch first and recognized our team colors. Two parents were standing on the ground, one male and one female. I greeted them both, but the man replied with a grumpy-sounding, “You’re right, mate.” That was the moment I knew we would never become mates. The woman didn’t even bother to reply.
At 9:54, a gentleman arrived wearing shorts and a puffy feather-stuffed jacket. Some players shouted his son’s name. Just a few minutes later, the opposing coach, an African lady, asked me if I was the manager. I replied, “No, but I have his number if you need it.” She said, “No, that’s absolutely fine.” Meanwhile, the gentleman rushed into the middle of the pitch and shouted that the coach couldn’t come, and he would be coaching the team for today. It was immediately obvious that this man was just a random father who liked his son to play football and had been asked by the elite grassroots team’s manager to run the game.
The kids had been warming up, kicking the ball around while waiting for the coach, so the warm-up was resumed by the father. He essentially ran up and down the pitch once. Now, I don’t blame him at all; I couldn’t have done a better job myself. But it’s also not my job—I’m paying for a service, so I expect a proper coach.
As 10 o’clock approached, the teams lined up to face each other. Within minutes of observing the game, it was clear that my little boy was the best player on both teams. He wasted no time making his presence known, scoring a goal within a few minutes. He then started dancing around in front of the goal, which made me a little uneasy. I want him to be lethal, not playing chess in the box. Nevertheless, he played very well.
A few minutes later, there was a misunderstanding: an opposing player was accidentally hit in the face with the ball, which dropped to the floor. Another player from our team picked it up, leaving the referee no choice but to award a penalty. My boy took the penalty with class, burying the ball in the bottom-left corner.
The game went on, and I found myself trying to coach my boy, while the other parent was simultaneously coaching the team—his boy, my boy, and even players from the opposing team. It was a very surreal experience. In the end, our team won 3-1. In the last quarter, my boy, who is naturally a midfielder or striker, was placed in defense. This was a clever decision, as we were up 2-1 and needed to hold our position. A minute before the end of the game, one of our players scored another goal—more luck than skill, but I was happy with the 3-1 result nonetheless.
The game ended, and my boy was chosen as Player of the Day. Unfortunately, he couldn’t receive a trophy because the coach who should have brought them simply didn’t bother to turn up. They took a group picture, and then everyone went their separate ways.
Another day where I learned that I’m living in a dream world because I imagine things should go differently than they do.