Harsh Reality at Girton

I couldn’t have known what to expect from Junior Football when I began a search for a team during the summer of 2003 aged 12.

I had been enjoying myself at the John Baggley Saturday morning coach sessions, which taught me a lot about enjoyment of the game as well as sportsmanship. Baggley made sure everyone was treated as individuals and everyone got the chance to play regardless of skill level. For me especially that was probably the best way of playing football around the time. I was a crap player but that was the best way to start enjoying football.

I had been going to the coaching for two years since I had first moved to Cambridge back in 2001. By that point, I felt like I wanted to play for a ‘club’ having been told all about life at a team called Cottenham Colts, who my mates, Henry Ludlam and Conor Clay played for.

After Baggley was finally able to get his book of a list of all the teams for my dad, a phone call was made to the Cambridge Junior FA about what teams I could play for at U13 level. Two came up – Histon Hornets and Girton.

It could only have been the latter I chose as it was an ‘E’ league team while Hornets were riding high in the ‘B’ league. I felt it would be a good starting point but I didn’t know what I was letting myself in for.

I had been to Girton before in various summer football camps, run of course by John Baggley. They had been generally good fun but I still didn’t know what to expect from the club. Coming to Girton Colts U13’s felt weird. This was a ‘proper’ team with a proper set up. The manager introduced himself to me. A scary looking man called Lawrence who apparently shouted a lot. That sounded like nothing to me at the time. I was used to that with the legendary, Mr Thornley at Parkside Community College.

I will never forget the first training session. The sweat oozed off my skin with my muscles and legs knackered of all its energy. The fitness was fine but my football wasn’t. Having lost the ball in a practice game, swiftly followed by a toe-poke shot (a habit that I frequently persisted with in those days), the players and coach didn’t seem too impressed.

Those sessions at least indicated to the manager that I wasn’t worth it but he signed me anyway. The team were expected to get promoted and beat all the teams to win the league. That took all the fun out of it as far as I was concerned. Jim White’s book ‘You’ll Never Win Anything with Kids’ suggests that in Junior football, too many managers scream and shout far too much to warrant any enjoyment. The boys were scared of making mistakes. If you made a mistake, you got a barrage of abuse at half time. You didn't get support, like in the future at Pannal. At Girton, back in 2003 as a 12 year old, I was facing the reality of not being very good stuck in a place where the word, 'win' was all that mattered.

At least I was playing competitive regular 11-a side football though. I still got good-natured stick from my mates at school though because I was playing in the ‘E’ league instead of the ‘B’ league which they were playing in. That was nothing though to me because, at least I was one of the few players in the Parkside School team to be playing in a club team on Sundays.

My first match for Girton was against the Under 12’s. We won 5-0. It was a poor debut because I handballed in the box and was lucky the other team didn't get a penalty. Lawrence didn’t see that as he was away. The assistant, Dave McCaig who apparently played for the Scottish Premier professional side, Hearts as a youth, took charge and he was quiet and calm with the lads, the way I wanted it.

My first ‘competitive’ match for the team was a Cambridgeshire and District Colts U13 league match away against Waterbeach. My only other experience of this flat place without either of the two in the name had been as part of the Year 6 Singing team at an Old Folk’s home. Lets get real however because this was football of course. It was October 2003, and I was excited about being part of the squad for a league match. I was on the bench with a guy called Phil Benton (who also went to Baggley’s), who many years later would have trials for Cambridge United with my best mate, Henry Ludlam. He was on the bench though because he had been injured for a short while and Lawrence didn’t want to play him for a full game yet.

We made a good start to the match making it 1-0 thanks to a fine ‘Wozi’ goal. He played left back for the team and seemed like an okay lad. It was then 2-1 to Waterbeach but then we then made it 3-2 with the manager’s step son, Scott Morley scoring one of the goals. I then came on for the first time. Soon they equalised, ‘Wozi’ then became hero turned villain because he scored an own goal past our keeper, Marcel. We had lost 4-3 and to the management, it seemed like the end of the world! The Waterbeach supporters were ecstatic because along with us, they were the main contenders for promotion that season. The manager gave us a right bollocking. Graham Barker at Pannal wouldn’t have done that with our Panthers squad. Then again that team had its limits. There was no under estimation within the Girton camp because pretty much most of the team’s supporters wanted the team to win promotion that season. I could sense the lads were frightened of the coach as he dished out his hairdryer treatment in the dressing room.

The following week was literally, the same story. We were 2-0 at half time in the League Cup away at a team called Spartak 78. We had looked comfortable in the first half but then we self-destructed and lost 6-2. The manager was furious and everyone was criticised, because we had self destructed.

We had to work hard in training for the rest of the season. Trainings were gruelling fitness drills which i have to say, taught me a lot about hard work. I remember however in training, one of the coaches used a stick over the Astroturf shredded stones pointing out what we were supposed to know. For Fuck sake, i thought. I knew very well tactics were important but we were just 12. It didn't seem right but it seemed to work on the players who played though fear because we won most of our games for the rest of the season. Notable highlights included beating Sutton 6-0, Willingham 4-0, Ely City 3-1 and an impressive 8-2 win at Manea Colts. I was however, getting increasingly frustrated at not getting on the pitch. I was restricted to five-minute cameos for most games. I was desperate to get on and do my bit. I was annoyed because the team were doing well; and were enough goals ahead in the matches. I wanted to be part of the team even though I wasn’t good.



Lawrence got so wound up on match days that his wife had to calm him down. He also got so angry with the referees in games for apparent bad decisions. While watching this on the touchline, I started to want Girton to lose, so he could bring me on. I now know that would never be the case because why would he bring a player he didn’t trust to try and change a game?

I remember when Lawrence said to us the Little Downham Eagles team manager was a nice guy after we had played his team off the park. He came into our dressing room to congratulate us on our victory. We had trounced them by about eight or nine goals. What the other players and Lawrence didn’t see was the Downham manager give out an unfair lashing to one of his players right after the game. “Make a mistake like that again and you wont be playing next week, get changed now “ said the furious manager. What the Sports Journalist, Jim White had seen, is what I had seen. It was the completely wrong thing.

I was also very clueless at this point but I didn’t care – I wanted to play football. I wore odd colour socks, shorts, even boots without studs for one muddy cup-tie at Chatteris. I got told off for it all but I started not to care anymore about the manager. For instance, before a home match at Girton, I gave a goalkeeper called Matthew (in the year below at the club), some shooting practice, I felt I was doing alright then the manager came in and told me to ‘bloody’ get changed or something along those lines. I felt like saying, “fuck you, your not playing me so I will go and play football myself’.I wanted to show him I was keen and ready to play.




To be fair I wasn’t good enough. But at U13 level, a manager doesn’t need to get philosophical about winning the league. It is not important. Sure you want to win games, but boys at that age can be lured away from football. The manager’s are actually supposed to be responsible for good development of the players. I felt Lawrence was good at the hard working and firm side of football but not psychological side. To be fair to the guy, he did his best with me but I just thought Junior Football shouldn't have been taken so seriously, particularly that season.

My final straw with the manager who had clearly ‘pissed’ me off by now was in a match against Huntingdon Rowdies ‘C’ in February 2004. I had it in mind, that if this wasn’t going to be a good day, I was going to walk out without a whisper. Keen to get on to the game, I put all the effort in the pre match warm up and played around with a football. With five minutes left, the manager was about to bring me on. He looked at me like I was some sort of idiot. I was wearing the wrong colour of socks. Did he know what I had? He said “You idiot, your colour blind!” he ranted. “Well don’t look at me in a huff!” he added. I felt like saying “Fuck you, I just want to play football but I wont fucking play for you”. I came on with five minutes to go and when the full time whistle blew, knew that would be my last match for Girton. Had I been older, i certainly would have given Lawrence crap but i was too upset at the time.

Who gave a shit about the tactics? I knew very well at 12, that it was wrong to be doing this. I suppose my Dad encouraged me on this down the phone but even at this age, as an obsessed man with football that this was out of proportion. Lawrence said he wanted to see me about the socks at Training the following Tuesday.

I would never see him again. I was in tears without him knowing because I wanted to play.

I should have stayed and got a winners medal but I wanted to play. Girton was out of proportion, the players felt alienated. It is what football shouldn’t be about. Pannal despite its up and downs was fun, fun, fun.

When I left, my old Parkside school friends such as Charlie Parr, Fred Faulkner, Ben Henville and Tom Linstead all joined the team. I suppose I set a sort of legacy there in a way.

Girton was a learning curve, a curve into the insights of junior football. One for the journalistic eye.