I started coaching soccer (football) when my son began playing as a child in our local youth recreational leagues. As he grew, I took more coaching courses, and soaked up being on the side of the pitch during games, calling out instructions and reminding the boys what we had been working on in practices. I found myself looking forward to nights when we'd practice because it was a joy to teach the game to young minds.
Last year, my company gave me an opportunity I had to jump on, a transfer to London, England. This was an amazing opportunity, both for business, and football. To be in a place that has hundreds of huge clubs, where football is actually a sport played with a ball and feet and not with hands and and egg-ball (let us not get me started on the misnomer that is American football). Needless to say I accepted the transfer, convinced my wife that she could find a teaching job over there and prepared our family to immigrate back to the place of our forefathers.
As fate would have it we got all settled in and my new boss sat on the board of a small club semi-pro club out in Chelmsford Town, about an hour and a half away from the office, by train. He said they needed a coach, but that they couldn't really afford to pay someone with experience. I said I'd be interested and the next day was on a train to meet the Chairman; I had plenty of time to review the team on the trip, and there was a fair bit of talent, but they were projected to be relegated. During the interview I was asked if I would get the team to bravely face relegation. To be honest, I was so shocked that the chairman had already given up hope of a decent finish that I agreed to avoid relegation.
My hope of not getting relegated, along with my passion for coaching younger players must have shown through because I had a call back from Alex, the chairman, by the end of the week and the job was mine if I'd take 30K a year. I agreed to coach for half that amount, since the club was in dire straights with their finances. And so I begin my professional career in football as a part time manager of a Vanarama South Club projected to finish dead last.
(Sorry, Don't have any screenshots from my first season, but will recap it if there's interest.)
Last year, my company gave me an opportunity I had to jump on, a transfer to London, England. This was an amazing opportunity, both for business, and football. To be in a place that has hundreds of huge clubs, where football is actually a sport played with a ball and feet and not with hands and and egg-ball (let us not get me started on the misnomer that is American football). Needless to say I accepted the transfer, convinced my wife that she could find a teaching job over there and prepared our family to immigrate back to the place of our forefathers.
As fate would have it we got all settled in and my new boss sat on the board of a small club semi-pro club out in Chelmsford Town, about an hour and a half away from the office, by train. He said they needed a coach, but that they couldn't really afford to pay someone with experience. I said I'd be interested and the next day was on a train to meet the Chairman; I had plenty of time to review the team on the trip, and there was a fair bit of talent, but they were projected to be relegated. During the interview I was asked if I would get the team to bravely face relegation. To be honest, I was so shocked that the chairman had already given up hope of a decent finish that I agreed to avoid relegation.
My hope of not getting relegated, along with my passion for coaching younger players must have shown through because I had a call back from Alex, the chairman, by the end of the week and the job was mine if I'd take 30K a year. I agreed to coach for half that amount, since the club was in dire straights with their finances. And so I begin my professional career in football as a part time manager of a Vanarama South Club projected to finish dead last.
(Sorry, Don't have any screenshots from my first season, but will recap it if there's interest.)