Almanac Junior Footy: The unsuspecting victims of Coronavirus

 

Perhaps segments of the arts community will be the beneficiaries of Coronavirus – not the drunkard swill influencing the likes of Pollock, Picasso or Toulouse-Lautrec, but from isolation and time for contemplation.

 

 

I’m amazed at how the grass grows; mesmerising…

 

 

But with footy back, spare a thought for those that are missing their first great adventure.

 

 

Reminiscing, I started coaching U10s football back in 2009 when my only son was 9 and we had just witnessed Black Saturday, when Victoria was last on fire in such a way that the world took note.

 

 

It was towards the end of a once in a lifetime drought spawning the climate debate that still rages and ravages our landscape in the senatorial rooms, the airwaves and the actual terra firma.

 

 

So with the smoke still lingering in the air the kids took to their first genuine training sessions – structure, skills and team orientation and the coveted: “I can tackle?” the making of, well, kids from kids.

 

 

Clubs and coaches had to be inventive as grounds were a no-go; training was on any patch of ground where one hoped a blade of grass still existed and more frequently having been discovered by the council or outed by a Mrs Nosey, forced to move on to another secret location.

 

 

Messages to parents for locations were in code and under a strict veil of secrecy – the kids didn’t care nor did they know that footy was a winter sport where grounds were meant to be soft and break the fall when pushed from behind or taken in a legal tackle.

 

 

I was introduced to Osgood Schlatters that year. I thought I’d need educate a good lad from the Baltic states how to use his hands to handpass and how the weirdly shaped footy was to be kicked…but no, Osgood-Schlatters disease was actually a complaint affecting many a kid running around on the concrete surfaces that year – an affliction of great pain for the sufferer and one that 10 year olds shouldn’t have to experience.

 

 

Someone told me it was growing pains but in my stunted frame I couldn’t recall such tear-inducing pain these kids went through to pull on a jumper and kick the footy.

 

 

Later that year the heavens opened and the rains brought green stuff to the ground the likes of which these kids hadn’t yet seen, some shivered for the first time and realised that if you were at the wrong end of the park for either a hiding or massive victory that footy held some demons and 15 minute quarters were maybe too long.

 

 

Fortunately modern coaching methods has kids moving around the ground, but still, sometimes the best of coaches can’t get it right. Sometimes the wind is the deciding factor not the skill sets of the two opposing teams. Other times a lad or lassie in the backline for one quarter as the ball remains locked in at the other end of the ground is swung to a forward for the next quarter – alas staying same end of the ground only to watch the contest continue 50m away.

 

 

On our first genuinely rainy and muddy day I had the kids run onto the ground and take a dive through the mud before breaking the banner thus removing any doubt that they shouldn’t get dirty – the mums were none too pleased.

 

 

Those formative years when you look about the ground and spot a cluster of kids sitting legs folded – circled together and playing in the mud whilst the game rages elsewhere.

 

 

Ah the memories…

 

 

Alas in this year of Covid-19 we have a group of unsuspecting victims – maybe not at high risk of the dreaded virus but with inability to take to the field, to the arena featuring their first battle. To miss a contest of wills, a chance to mimic their heroes. To take a specky or dribble the ball through from the boundary or just plain missing out on a hot dog after the game.

 

 

Mum and dads, please take the kids down to the park for an extra kick and have some pies or hotdogs ready to go at home.

 

 

 

 

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About

A Fitzroy resident keen on local content sports and the offbeat. Community first, after the good family of course.

Comments

  1. Great memories Steve. I’ve just been cleaning out the bedside drawers and have in my hand the parent/player list given to parents of that same team (2011 version). It is a fantastic snapshot – reading through those young kids’ names and numbers.
    1 Luca, 2 Darcy S, 3 Donald, 5 Mackie, 8 Liam, 9 Rupert, 10 Miles, 12 Zander, 15 Keane, 16 Tom Mc, 17 Marlon, 19 Oliver, 21 Max, 22 Riley, 23 Tom S, 26 Harvey, 29 Owie, 37 Jordan, 39 Lachlan, 40 Cooper, 41 Jack, 42 Declan, 44 Harrison, 45 Conor, 49 Marcel, 43 Darcy L.

    (I originally typed out three names but couldn’t help myself as the memories flooded back). They, and we as parents, all thank you and all the other coaches. As we age we cherish those moments.

    My strongest memory of the drought breaking was at a BBQ in Johnson Park Northcote – our youngest was 5, he and his friends didn’t know what those massive drops of water coming out the sky were. They ran out and back from under the shelter, screaming with wonder and delight, as they looked up and had their faces and open mouths pelted. They’d never experienced rain before! As the heavens opened they all took off their wet clothes and splashed about in in the puddles. We laughed, drank beer, and laughed.

    Great times – thanks Steve for bringing them back.

    No 42’s Dad

  2. Great memories Steve. I’ve just been cleaning out the bedside drawers and have in my hand the parent/player list given to parents of that same team (2011 version). It is a fantastic snapshot – reading through those young kids’ names and numbers.
    1 Luca, 2 Darcy S, 3 Donald, 5 Mackie, 8 Liam, 9 Rupert, 10 Miles, 12 Zander, 15 Keane, 16 Tom Mc, 17 Marlon, 19 Oliver, 21 Max, 22 Riley, 23 Tom S, 26 Harvey, 29 Owie, 37 Jordan, 39 Lachlan, 40 Cooper, 41 Jack, 42 Declan, 44 Harrison, 45 Conor, 49 Marcel, 43 Darcy L.

    (I originally typed out three names but couldn’t help myself as the memories flooded back). They, and we as parents, all thank you and all the other coaches. As we age we cherish those moments.

    My strongest memory of the drought breaking was at a BBQ in Johnson Park Northcote – our youngest was 3, he and his friends didn’t know what those massive drops of water coming out the sky were. They ran out and back from under the shelter, screaming with wonder and delight, as they looked up and had their faces and open mouths pelted. They’d never experienced rain before! As the heavens opened they all took off their wet clothes and splashed about in in the puddles. We laughed, drank beer, and laughed.

    Great times – thanks Steve for bringing them back.

    No 42’s Dad

  3. Correction

    I miscalculated – my youngest was 3

    Kieran

  4. Steve esrl says

    Thanks kieran – I of course know you and it was a great time – I see some of those young men to this day and have had great pleasure when they have gone out of their way to say hello – I hope they looked up to me as a peer because a sure as well look up to them now

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