The lush grass with morning dew greets the morning rains as the crows croke and birds sing. It’s morning in England’s green and pleasant land far from the heat of Jerusalem in the autumnal season. Out of nowhere a man appears with two big bags full of white posts which like an IKEA salesman he begins to piece together. Wrapping nets like a Fisherman around the back end of the posts this dedicated man is soaked to the skin. His enthusiasm clearly his only protection. Another man joins him with flags and posts in the final assembly of the two goal posts.
The pitch previously marked out the day before is now set , laid ready for a game. The incessant rain set to dampen anyone continues as young boys kitted in red are delivered pitch side by their parents in 4 x 4s. The boys look frail almost waiting to be blown away and their coach soon appears pitch-side under an umbrella, less enthusiastic than the worker parents. A few balls appear and a quasi training session starts.
Then, from the corner of the field a team of boys in the black and white strip of Newcastle enter the arena like young warriors. Parents less in number the opposition has arrived. Meantime a parent, a most diligent parent wanders the pitch with spade collecting abandoned dog droppings. Such a scene a reminder that one is not at Wembley and we are about to see a bunch of 10 and 11 year olds do battle with the ball.
Chelsea scouts tell me that they can pick a winning player as early as 6 years of age and I wonder if any of these young ones have been missed. The number 7 for the red team who can play with both feet looks a likely candidate and within minutes of the game starting number 7 is prominent. Within minutes of the kick off the number 7 makes two strikes yet the black and white goalkeeper makes excellent saves and I begin to wonder if this is to be the chosen one.
After 30 minutes black and white are two goals ahead and I sense that the outcome is inevitable. The home red parents are silent resigned to the fact that their siblings will need to earn their £200k per week playing on another field. It is Sunday morning in Britain where such events are going on all over the country and which makes this the home of Grass roots Soccer. Every Sunday circa 1.6million play soccer in Britain and we can pay tribute to the men and women who put up the posts, who launder the kits and who coach the team girls and boys. We are at the grass roots , the embryos of the English game that’s good for their health, ambition and dreams. The rain starts again the second half starts and the black and whites are 4 ahead, beyond reach the reds beyond redemption. Someone has to win, someone has to lose but it’s the taking part for all involved the most important.
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