You know what they say: those who can't do teach, and those who can't teach teach football (well in the original saying, they teach PE but for the purpose of the story, they teach football).
It came as little surprise once I found out what the tell-tale signs where that I had dyspraxia. Socially limited (not as severe as autism or aspergers however) and a lack of hand-eye and foot-eye co-ordination.
It was difficult coming to terms with at the tender age of 12. I hadn't been bad at football in my younger years, in fact, I was quite fancied in primary school as a fox-in-the-box type of player (weren't we all?). But my lack of physical co-ordination was becoming telling already, and boys that I was once on a par with in footballing terms were now light years ahead of me.
I made a few cameos in the school team through secondary school, completely out of place at right-back, and the head of PE/head coach of the school football team found this out by the end of year 9. I made another brief few appearances as a goalkeeper towards the end of Sixth Form, when it turned out I was quite willing to fling myself in front of seemingly goal-bound shots.
The last indication I got that I was no use to any competing football team was my failed trial for the uni football team as a goalkeeper. I gave up the ghost completely, accepting my life as a not particularly athletic person.
I went on and did what other not particularly athletic people did. I lived for the weekend- and even weekdays where I wasn't in early the following day- so I could go out with my mates and get wasted. Nothing beat a Dominos pizza the morning after, and I was using my independence to put more shit- legal nonetheless, I was never into drugs- into my body than I ever imagined was possible.
I had a high natural metabolism, so the health effects were washing over me. Regardless of how much alcohol, pizza and kebab I would load into my system, I remained paper thin. That was until shortly after I turned 21.
I turned 21 in February 2012, weighing in at around 13 and a half stone. By the following year, I had gained 3 stone in weight. Having not worked out in three years and living on a diet of booze and pizza, my slowed rate of metabolism caused me to gain weight at a faster rate than I'd ever seen before.
I remember a DT teacher at school telling me he was the same, and that unless I went on to live a fit and healthy lifestyle, I would also get a belly like he had. My smug 18-year-old self simply laughed the suggestion off. Four years on, I'm not looking so smug now. Here I am, with zero athletic capability remaining and still an overwhelming appetite for Fosters and Dominos.
Since I realised around 13 years old that I'd never be a professional footballer, I made a point of getting my head down and working towards a career that would actually be realistic. I took up Business Economics at Cardiff Metropolitan University, and in the summer of 2014, I'll hopefully leave with a degree.
I've eyed up a career in business management, with a few graduate schemes in mind. But there's still something nagging the back of my mind. How many coaches have had glittering football careers? Arsene Wenger only ever played professional football for a couple of years towards the end of his 20s, even then, it was as a fringe player at best at Strasbourg.
Did Andre Villas Boas or Jose Mourinho even play any level of football at any stage of their 20s?
I wasn't about to make coaching my sole focus in life, otherwise I'd be homeless, but it wouldn't hurt to learn the trade...
It came as little surprise once I found out what the tell-tale signs where that I had dyspraxia. Socially limited (not as severe as autism or aspergers however) and a lack of hand-eye and foot-eye co-ordination.
It was difficult coming to terms with at the tender age of 12. I hadn't been bad at football in my younger years, in fact, I was quite fancied in primary school as a fox-in-the-box type of player (weren't we all?). But my lack of physical co-ordination was becoming telling already, and boys that I was once on a par with in footballing terms were now light years ahead of me.
I made a few cameos in the school team through secondary school, completely out of place at right-back, and the head of PE/head coach of the school football team found this out by the end of year 9. I made another brief few appearances as a goalkeeper towards the end of Sixth Form, when it turned out I was quite willing to fling myself in front of seemingly goal-bound shots.
The last indication I got that I was no use to any competing football team was my failed trial for the uni football team as a goalkeeper. I gave up the ghost completely, accepting my life as a not particularly athletic person.
I went on and did what other not particularly athletic people did. I lived for the weekend- and even weekdays where I wasn't in early the following day- so I could go out with my mates and get wasted. Nothing beat a Dominos pizza the morning after, and I was using my independence to put more shit- legal nonetheless, I was never into drugs- into my body than I ever imagined was possible.
I had a high natural metabolism, so the health effects were washing over me. Regardless of how much alcohol, pizza and kebab I would load into my system, I remained paper thin. That was until shortly after I turned 21.
I turned 21 in February 2012, weighing in at around 13 and a half stone. By the following year, I had gained 3 stone in weight. Having not worked out in three years and living on a diet of booze and pizza, my slowed rate of metabolism caused me to gain weight at a faster rate than I'd ever seen before.
I remember a DT teacher at school telling me he was the same, and that unless I went on to live a fit and healthy lifestyle, I would also get a belly like he had. My smug 18-year-old self simply laughed the suggestion off. Four years on, I'm not looking so smug now. Here I am, with zero athletic capability remaining and still an overwhelming appetite for Fosters and Dominos.
Since I realised around 13 years old that I'd never be a professional footballer, I made a point of getting my head down and working towards a career that would actually be realistic. I took up Business Economics at Cardiff Metropolitan University, and in the summer of 2014, I'll hopefully leave with a degree.
I've eyed up a career in business management, with a few graduate schemes in mind. But there's still something nagging the back of my mind. How many coaches have had glittering football careers? Arsene Wenger only ever played professional football for a couple of years towards the end of his 20s, even then, it was as a fringe player at best at Strasbourg.
Did Andre Villas Boas or Jose Mourinho even play any level of football at any stage of their 20s?
I wasn't about to make coaching my sole focus in life, otherwise I'd be homeless, but it wouldn't hurt to learn the trade...
