The summer is a strange time. For most it brings the long awaited vacations and the occasional bar-b-q, Wimbledon and the Open with a cold beer, perhaps? Yet for the professional footballer, it is the chance to unwind for a few weeks before 9 months of hard labor commence.
As a pro, I always had a split personality over pre-season. Yes, you join in with the rest of the lads in cursing the man with the whistle and the stop watch "Your watch made of fucking chocolate?" "I'd love to see him run 10- 100m at 15 secs pace...CUNT!!" and you absolutely despise every second of running. Waking up, you think "I cannot walk, never mind run", yet 2 hours later you're flying around a track feeling like Roger Bannister on speed. And that's where the dichotomy becomes clear. You hate it, but you know it's doing you good, you think the goalie might lap you (the ultimate embarrasment) when you wake up, only to find yourself cruising past the teams fittest man (you know every team has a guy who could easily step in and run for the Kenyans at the next Olympics). Granted you might just pass him for one run, but that one run proves that you are THE man, fitter than last year and ready to be better than you ever have been.
It's a beautifuly optimistic time of year, you meet new friends, click on and off the field with guys, get exited about who is signing who and generally focus more on becoming a better Pro...
...and then the balls come out. And that is a different kettle of fish altogether.
Because, at the end of the day it's about the ball. You can get yourself in the greatest of shape, be a fantastic athlete, but if you have the touch of a blind rapist then you're fucked. Well, that's not completely true...I know guys who have played at the highest level who you would rather play a man down with at 5 asides than pick them. TT they're called- Touch Tackle. When they try to control the ball, inevitably the next thing they have to do is tackle!! But for them it is the physical preparation that is vital. They know deep down that they're not blessed in the touch department (me? I had the touch of an anorexic butterfly landing on a silk rose petal). So basically what I'm saying is, it takes all sorts. On my first day of walking into the training ground with Ross County, I walked in and the fans' favorite player was sitting with a coffee and a cigarette (more of him later) fully in kit, with boots on ready to go!
The game has evolved since then (thankfully) although I would give me left leg to see Ronaldo and Kaka sitting in the dressing room tonight with a Nescafe and a Woodbine asking "Sergio, Serge, you got a light?"
But after 12 years of pre season, last year was my first not doing one, it felt wierd, it still does.
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