Anger. Everywhere. Especially about throw-ins

Games 46-47, 2021-22

Everyone's mad about something these days. The more trivial the better. Every Saturday there are people marching through the streets of my city loudly protesting about having to wear a mask in some public places to help stop vulnerable people becoming infected with a somewhat deadly virus. In times of a brutal, senseless war and rampant, earth-destroying climate change, this is the issue these citizens are apparently mad about. All in the name of 'freedom', that vague, abused and facile justification for all kinds of entitled, small-minded, attention-seeking twattery.

On Saturday morning - on the pitch next to where I'm coaching - I see a 10-year-old goalkeeper get mad at the player who's just scored past him. He runs out of his penalty area and pushes the forward over from behind. The ref makes him apologise, which he does with very bad grace. His coach doesn't even pull him out of the game. The kid still looks mad, even after he's supposedly said sorry. Where are his Mum or Dad to give him a proper bollocking, seeing as how his coach is not concerned? Why did the ref not send him off the field to think about what he just did? Which, just to recap, was to assault an opponent in a U11 game. What will he take away from this experience other than that it's okay to get mad and physically assault your opponent when he scores against you?

When a Dad comes marching towards you after the final whistle...

Games 43-45, 2021-22

Yep, we know.

Here comes Dad. As I walk towards my changing room at the end of a very competitive boys' U13 game, I go for the direct route - avoiding the open gate where the bellicose, over-motivated parents are still gathered, and opting to duck under the fence instead. But Dad is in the midst of a determined and purposeful stride, and unless I break into an undignified trot, he's going to cut me off before I reach the changing room door. I've certainly nothing to run away from, so let's have it, Dad, what's on your tiny little mind?

"Can you give me an explanation why you gave our number 3 a five-minute time penalty?" That sounds like a reasonable request on paper, but the hectoring tone, I already know, means that Dad won't be happy with the explanation, he just wants to Have His Say.

"Sure," I say. I wait a couple of seconds to gather my thoughts, and in this short time Dad demands, "Well then, what is it?" Bear in mind, that Dad's kid's team has already won the game, 2-0. Though maybe he's still peeved that I read the riot act to the whole line of parents by exhorting them to calm down, and pointing out that the game wasn't being staged especially to mirror their genetic genius.