Ever since I was young, I was always in charge of taking set pieces for my team, Maybe it was because I always used to be afraid to head the ball, or maybe because it meant I wouldn't have to compete for a 50/50 with someone double my size. Either way, I loved taking them.
And on my final game for Brighton, minutes before I got released for the first time in my short career, I scored a free kick eerily reminiscent to this one.
We were playing Lewes Development Squad (a team I'm all too familiar facing now) at the old Brighton home stadium - Withdean. It wasn't the most glamorous of grounds, but for a kid, the chance to play at the stadium you've seen on TV your entire life is something special.
The game was as standard as you can think for a pre-season friendly, one team heavily favoured against another looking to prove themselves against a professional club. I was wearing number 7, a number I've always loved, and one I thought gave a certain air of confidence and skill to the player wearing.
I don't remember too many aspects of the game as such, but around the 70th minute, we got a free kick yards outside the box. I had already ballooned one over from the same distance in the first half, but there was no way in hell someone was taking this opportunity from me.
As previously mentioned, I scored. I've never felt so confident playing a game of football as I did in those final 20 minutes. I came off the pitch knowing I'd given everything I possibly could have in order to cement my place as a starter for the season. The manager even called me aside after the game to have a chat with me and my dad, and when you play for a professional club, that talk can only go two ways.
You see, when I first signed on for Brighton, it went in similar fashion. I was scouted playing for my local team Southdown Rovers when the scout approached my dad and invited me along to a training session.
I don't think I've ever been happier.
This to me was it, this was my life sorted. I thought I was destined to become professional at this point. I went along to the session, where we were given kit, training wear, tracksuits - we even had homework every week on formations, drills and set pieces. For 7 years I played along some of my closest friends, travelling to games on the coach, training 3 times a week and living my dream day in day out.
I played across England with those boys. We've travelled down to Mertsham on a Thursday night to play against teams in London. I've been up to Birmingham to train with other academies. I've played across in Spain at the futsal tournament.
But every journey has to come to an end.
The manager wanted to tell me that I was being let go from the team. Apparently I had been there too long and hadn't developed enough since I first joined. Technically as a player I was good enough, but they were looking for people who were constantly improving, and felt I had reached as good as I could get.
It broke me.
I had spent 7 years of my life playing for this club. 7 years of my life with friends I'd never forget. 7 years of my life doing the thing I loved the most, only for it all to be torn away. It was brutal, I didn't know what to do because in my eyes I had done enough. But that's the harsh reality of football. Not all of us are destined to make it. And that's how I feel from the top of the pyramid. At the age of 14, I had my hopes and dreams stowed away until I could bring myself to start playing once more.
Comments