The lost boys of the academies
When I saw the tragic news of the death of a former Man City Academy boy Jeremy Wisten, something struck a chord in my mind and I felt the need to write some thoughts down of my own experience. Now I don’t claim to have known him at all so have no idea the circumstances surrounding his death but couldn’t help but wonder how much being released by a “big” club played its part.
As a kid, like 90% of my friends growing up I wanted to be a professional footballer. I was football crazy. My family were football crazy. My Dad was a die-hard Liverpool fan who grew up selling sweets at Anfield on match day (he would later even open his own football shop once he had moved down south) lived and breathed football. Both my brothers were huge Liverpool fans (like we ever had a choice) and our lives revolved around football (mainly when the Reds were playing) - it was imbedded in us (as the YNWA tattoo on my wrist will confirm). It would dictate moods in the house, outings, family plans etc.
My mates were the same, living in south London it was mainly Crystal Palace, Arsenal, Chelsea and a few Man United fans; but we all had the same goal. To imitate our heroes down the park. Subbuteo, FIFA, 3 n In, Headers and Volleys, World Cup Willy, the board game Wembley (look it up) and anything else that could remotely relate to football. Sounds familiar? Of course, it does. This isn’t unique or uncommon. In fact, quite the opposite. For a lot of young boys (and girls) there is nothing else that could even come close to that feeling of seeing the net bulge.
To start with, everyone has a mate that “should’ve or could’ve made it but for… x, y, z”, I get that. Ultimately, only so few do. This isn’t a sob story or a “I was robbed”, just my personal experience.
As a youngster I was told probably from the age of about 10 that I would be a professional footballer by those around me who knew football. Aged 11 I signed for Crystal Palace Academy (I think it might have even been a School of Excellence at that point). I spent two seasons there which I enjoyed, getting to wear a ‘real’ teams kit and play against other ‘real’ teams. I was tall for a young lad (nearly 6ft by this point), but very slim. My time there was spent up front despite always having played centre midfield. My game had always been dribbling and taking on players. Think a young Steve McManaman; I’d love to beat a man, in fact I’d love to try beating 6 or 7 (my mind flickers to my mates’ Dad telling him “if he learned how to pass he’d be a good player”), but being able to finish went a long way at that age. I was released at 13 along with most of the squad (20 + lads). Palace at the time were going through financial difficulties and released a lot of the older squads, except for one or two (Wayne Routledge springs to mind). My first taste of rejection. I didn’t mind. Obviously, there was disappointment, but as much as I enjoyed it, I didn’t love it at Palace. It felt cliquey (there were a lot of boys from the same schools or Boroughs who knew each other) and on top of that I didn’t really have any doubt it would work out for me.
Fast forward a month and I’m on trial at Fulham’s Under 14s. I scored about 8 goals in about 8 games at the end of the season, including a hat-trick against Reading from centre mid. Fulham signed me to their academy and it felt great. The set up at Motspur Park was great, the staff were friendly and I loved it there. I felt like I belonged, and they will always hold a soft spot in my heart. You would see the pros walking round, so there was an awe about the place but it also felt reachable, in touching distance. It turns out these men were mere mortals (I spent a few weeks on the physio bed next to Chris Coleman who was an absolute gent). Things at Fulham went well. The next season I started prolifically again, bagging 5 in my first 5 (had been moved back up top), but as a team we weren’t doing too well. Despite the focus at Fulham (from Jean Tigana right down to the youngest academy teams) completely being on the style of play as opposed to the result, we were getting beaten. Our defence was leaking goals. After a side chat with our manager my Old Man suggested trying me at centre back. Every team I’d played for (my local clubs, schools, Boroughs, Counties) I’d been a ball playing centre mid who could tackle, so maybe the combo could work. It did. I stayed centre back for the next two seasons. It got to a point where my performances were warranting call ups for the teams two years above (the U17s & U18s) before my release. I loved it around the place and felt I became quite well known and really got on with the staff and players. We had many trialists and players come and go even, during my relatively short stint there but there was a core of us that remained in those two years or so.
As it came to the end of the Under 16 season and the YTS contracts were ready to be handed out. There were lots of rumours flying around throughout the team and their parents that only a handful of boys were going to be signed from the 23+ squad we had. Every single person had reassured me I had nothing to worry about. I remember one of the boys Dads telling me “I wouldn’t worry son; you’ve been head and shoulders above anyone else this season”. It’s fair to say I felt confident going into that room.
As I sat down with my Dad, there was my current manager, one of the coaches and Paul Clement (who was the U18s manager at the time). I remember coming in smiling but distinctively recall the almost sombre like feeling of the room. Very quickly they got down to it and “regretted to inform me that they won’t be signing me on for a YTS contract”. I don’t remember too much that was said after that (I mean it is over half my life ago now and I was pretty shell shocked) apart from the main reason for my release being that they didn’t think I would be able to handle the physical side of the game and was too slight and slow to make it. A dagger to the heart. Something I look back on and laugh at now (maybe they were right, but I was also a skinny 16 year old, surely you could get me down the gym) especially considering I was only recently back from a quite bad ankle injury (I know, I know, I would’ve made it if it weren’t for that).
My Dad exchanged a few words and they ended up offering to let me to carry on training whilst I looked for another club.
Straight after I do remember my coach Graeme grabbing me to tell me he did not agree with the decision at all and firmly believed I’d be “one they’d regret in the future” as technically he had no doubt I was good enough. He was wrong, but I appreciated it!
They only signed on 4 lads (two got released the following year. One had a pretty OK career, spread across various lower league clubs and the other I believe is still playing in Thailand or somewhere similar). Still, better than I did in that respect. I know a few of the older lads made some Championship appearances, and one featured in the PL for a season too.
I carried on training for a bit, but after that they dropped me down two age groups and were giving me 20 minutes here and there. I felt insulted.
Now at this point, with hindsight, I should’ve gone to another club, a lower league club and built my trade there, but my attitude wasn’t there. As a 16-year-old, I felt I’d lost my chance, it felt like the dream was over. I’d been told my whole life I was going to make it pro and firmly believed that (maybe it was part of the reason I didn’t). I had one trial at Brighton but found the commute too far. Then I signed for a local semi-pro team with a coach who had known me since my teens with the promise that “in a month or two, we’ll have you down Crawley or somewhere don’t worry”. This never materialised. Before you know it I’d turned 17, then 18, ultimately too old now to make it to the top (certainly in my eyes). But the main thing was the bigger picture. I’d been turned off football. I was so gutted I lost my attitude. I couldn’t even watch football. I’d see boys coming on in games that I’d played against thinking that should’ve been me. I think I think it wasn’t until I was around 22/23 that I would watch any other football that wasn’t Liverpool. Even my love for Liverpool dwindled then (just slightly). I hated it.
During my time at the two academies, there was not one player that springs to mind I ever played against who stood out. Maybe it was my sheer determination to never be shown up, but I genuinely believe that (with the exception of two fantastically oiled teams, Norwich and Southampton). Maybe I just blanked it out.
Even the boys we were told had been signed by Chelsea for thousands of £s and the “untouchable” Arsenal lot . I was honestly somewhat disappointed by them. I relished playing those players, expecting to see this incredible level I’d never come across and really been shown up or pit myself against as a test. It never came. The one time I felt out of my depth was when at 15 I trained pre-season with the U17s and a couple of the reserves joined in. Now that felt different.
When I look back on my age group, I always maintain I would’ve done better abroad. Gone to Germany or somewhere they would embrace technicality over physicality, but it would never have even crossed my mind then. I wasn’t even aware it was a possibility, and would I have been brave enough to go, who knows?
At both clubs, it always felt like they were looking to make a quick buck. The aim being to find an academy player and sell him for millions off. To find the next Becks. At Fulham they signed (paid physical money) for a lad from abroad. I won’t mention his name as he still plays, but they brought him over and sponsored him. He was bang average, at best. Had an engine to be fair though. They wanted him to be something he wasn’t. He was made captain. Centre mid. Penalty taker. Corners. Free kicks. Initials on his own boots. I remember laughing to myself watching him struggle to beat the first man on every corner. Maybe the scouts knew something I didn’t, after all he did captain his national side (albeit a small team in footballing terms). Without sounding like sour grapes, no one saw it. None of the lads or the parents understood what was happening, but Fulham had paid money and wanted their return, or their star.
I saw it at other clubs too. One player sticks in my mind, who ended up having a decent career at championship level. Frankly he was shit then. We all knew it. Every time we played against him (I’d come up against him for the Borough and County as well as Fulham). He was the only player that I’ve ever seen substituted in a professional academy game only to then start crying, kick and argue with his dad, for his dad in turn to then speak to the manager and in turn to the ref for him to be brought back on… you couldn’t help feel that the odds were weighted towards him, maybe his fate was already decided. He ended up signing for a top premier league team (a quick wiki check tells me he made one app for them too) so undoubtedly given the opportunity to be around world class players day in day out, he flourished. Good for him.
I often wondered looking at players now that have made it, what was it that stood out? Was it the attitude? Was it just someone taking a chance? The pace or physical side? Did they really have that little extra? Was it just a face that fit? Would there be more Jamie Vardy’s given the chance? Then there’s the debate of signing U16s from overseas. I have strong opinions on this but will save them for another day.
I remember the Millwall scout at 15 being told to “go and find big strong boys who can play pro next year”. The physical aspect was number one. I’m not downplaying the importance of it, but it is something that always raises my eyebrow when we have a perceived lack of “technical” English talent. It started at Palace but by the time I was at Fulham, I had it absolutely drilled into me, one touch and pass. There was little to no room for flair unless you were in the last third. Probably fair in one sense, but also killed that aspect of my game. Although this does, on the surface, appear to be changing.
Cut scene to 2020 and I’m at peace with how it all worked out. My career has been outside of football. There will always be a what if, but it just wasn’t meant for me. I still have my love of the game (although that’s dwindled but for other, cough *money* cough reasons). But it wasn’t until later in life that I looked back and truly realise the effect it had on my mental health at the time. I was low. I didn’t know what to do (I actually did OK at school, but never took it too seriously considering I was always going to be a footballer and I went to a “rugby school”) so I had no other career path planned. I fleeted between jobs, relationships, booze, carried an attitude in life, moved up to Manchester for 6 months just to be away from the football scene I knew down south. I was 18, I had nothing figured out. What do you do? You’ve been told all your life and certainly believe, that you will be one thing, then it gets taken away from you because of one, maybe two opinions. I certainly didn’t know. One thing I do know is there are thousands of other young lads who were, are and will be in exactly the same position as me. Some who are even further along. Some that may get a taste of the big time only for it to be taken away. My best mate growing up was in the same boat. He was with me at Palace, the Borough, the County teams. He spent some time at Arsenal and semi -pro clubs. He was fantastic player, a good a natural goal scorer as I’ve ever played with. Just had that eye for goal you can’t teach, plus we had an understanding I’ve never managed to replicate with anyone else. (I think our picture is still up in our Primary School). I’ve spoken to him a few times about it over a pint (reminiscing about some of the good, and not so good boys we came up against) or on the pitch on a Sunday and he feels the same. It really does leave you at a loss at that age.
If I could go back to my 14-year-old self, I’d certainly give different advice, advice I never received. Luckily, I had enough else going on around me that it was just a bitterness towards my childhood sweetheart who broke my heart, football, that materialised.
I’m led to believe, that the support is better for youngsters (so I’m told) and the expectations are met with more realism. However, with the game being worth even more money, and arguably even further detached from reality I can’t help but wonder, how much is mental health really supported? It not only has the potential to change kids’ lives, but their families also. Even more so in underprivileged areas where it is often seen as one of the few ways to be financially successful, adding, as if needed, even more pressure to ‘make it’.
We certainly had some “big time Charlies” in my team. Maybe being at Fulham it was less so than other clubs, but one thing was for sure; if you rocked around at 16 thinking you had made it, you would’ve been told otherwise. Mind you, we had no social media then either.
As I ponder on how much I struggled personally to come to terms with being released, I really do hope that there are better support networks in place, although the tragic death of this young lad provides the question mark.
I’d be lying if I said that every now again watching games I didn’t have a fleeting what if moment, but 99% of the time I just enjoy my Sunday league games and look back on my (short) time in the academies with pride.
Tom Johnson, The Left-sided Problem
-
On this day in 2001, Zinedine Zidane signed for Real Madrid. This transfer is just one reason why the 2001/02 seaso… https://t.co/bI2J6AT97K -
Little quiz question…who were the last team (and when) to reach a European Cup/Champions League final and not play… https://t.co/4bZlA9KYHH