Having spent four decades in football doing a range of things at a range of levels, it’s perhaps no surprise that it continues to shape me as a person Football quietly shapes how you think, how you deal with pressure and how you understand people.
Looking back, there are things I wish I’d understood earlier. They aren’t glamorous lessons, the sort of motivational soundbites you see on posters but the lessons that actually stay with you and make all the difference both in football and in life.
As a young player I spent far too long believing the game was about flair. Tricks, flicks and the stuff you’d try to copy from a YouTube clip these days, that was the flair I thought separated the top players from the rest. But the longer you stay in the sport, the more you realise the best players aren’t the ones embroidering their game with flashy tricks. They’re the ones who do the basics with absolute consistency. The ones whose first touch never misses setting up their second. The ones who play the simple pass to pass their time on without adulation. I’ve played alongside lads who barely said a word yet dictated matches through calmness and accuracy. They did nothing flashy, but somehow everything seemed to go through them. It takes age to appreciate that. Football is built on repetition, on thousands of tiny details done well. Those players who understand that and care about the fundamentals are the ones who always seem to rise, no matter the level.
I recently saw an interview with Wayne Rooney making broadly this point. He was saying he barely did a stepover in his entire career but focussed instead on getting the job done. That’s one of the reasons why he’s up there with the best players to play in the Premier League.
Another lesson that sneaks up on you is fitness. When you’re young and can move, you think you can coast through fitness elements of training sessions . You think talent trumps all and will paper over the cracks. Then one day you turn up to pre season after an easy summer and spend the first fortnight thinking you might actually pass out on the local playing field. I learned the hard way that fitness underpins everything. It’s not about running marathons or living in the gym, it’s about giving yourself the chance to enjoy the game properly. When you feel strong, everything becomes easier.
Heads get scrambled through fatigue and decision making, reactions, confidence all improve when you are comfortably fit and prepared for the game. Looking after your body by eating well, stretching and sleeping aren’t just desirable but essential. All that unglamorous stuff is what keeps you in the game as others start to fade. A goal scored in minute ninety counts the same as a goal scored in minute one, so why wouldn’t you give yourself the chance of being your best self for the whole game?
The older you get the more you realise that those habits don’t stay on the pitch. Once you learn to discipline yourself physically, it starts to spill into everything else. You value routine and effort because you’ve seen how much difference they make.
Football also teaches you the value of reflection, though that took me a long time to understand.
Most of us rush to move on too quickly, celebrating victories without knowing why we won, burying losses without ever examining them. Growth comes from honesty, not avoidance. Some of the biggest steps forward I ever took came from matches that went wrong. Mistakes point you towards the truth far more clearly than successes does. The misplaced pass, the switching off in concentration, the poor decision under pressure all hurt, of course they do, but they’re gold dust if you’re willing to look at them properly. The pros endlessly analyse performances, and millions are invested at the top end of the game to enable them to do it, but grassroots players can do it too. A quiet moment after a game, a thought in the car on the way home, a chat with your coach all help.
The increasing availability of Veo and other systems for videoing and clipping games starts to close the gap between grassroots and the top level, so there are more opportunities to improve through reflection. Improvement isn’t a moment, it’s a habit.
Nothing trips players up more than the fear of making mistakes. Football can be brutal when you get something wrong, and when you’re younger you treat every error like a personal catastrophe and a dagger through the heart. I still remember leaving a backpass short, not tracking a runner and the other goals I felt responsible for, all the decisions I regretted. It’s perhaps human nature that they stick with you longer than the good moments. But with time you realise every great player has a catalogue of mistakes behind them. Failure isn’t a dead end, it’s a diversion. The moment you stop fearing mistakes, you start to play freely again and the weight lifts. You take on bigger challenges with a different mindset. That shift, from fear to freedom is one of the biggest gifts football can give you. It teaches resilience, humility and perspective and those qualities are invaluable off the pitch as well as on it.
If there’s one thing our game tests relentlessly, it’s mental strength. Mistakes, injuries, defeats, dips in form, criticism from the sidelines, being dropped, they all pile on at some point. I’ve seen players crumble under it and walk away from the game, and others use it as fuel. The difference rarely comes down to talent. It’s mindset and the ability to stay level in difficult moments. Football teaches you that you can’t control everything, but you can control your effort and your attitude. You can choose how you respond. That’s where toughness comes from, knowing that setbacks are temporary and that showing up again, ready to work, is half the battle. One day, you realise that mental strength has become part of who you are, not something you consciously switch on just for matches.
Despite all the technical and psychological stuff, what I’ve learned to value most, by a long way, are the relationships. The friendships I’ve forged through football are different to anything else. You can’t quite explain the bond that forms through long away trips up and down the motorway, or the frozen training sessions where everyone is silently questioning life choices, or the banter in the dressing room that has you laughing. Your teammates see you at your best and your worst. They know your strengths, your insecurities, your bad habits and your best moments. Some of the people I trust most in my life are people I met through this game decades ago. Coaches too have become people I trust to give me advice on more than just football. The ones who pulled you aside and believed in you, the ones who told you the truths you needed to hear even when you didn’t want to hear them. These relationships stay with you because they’re built on shared graft, not convenience and often stick way after the football has finished.
Then after literally decades taking part in football, you start to realise that the journey itself was the whole point. The matches you obsessed over don’t matter nearly as much as the feeling of being part of something. The smell of liniment in a dressing room corridor, the rhythm of warm ups, the little chats before kick off. The moments where everything clicked and football felt like the easiest game in the world. Those are the memories that last. Some of my favourite moments weren’t cup finals or league medals, they were the ordinary days where the game just flowed.
If I could offer anything to young players, it would be as simple as mastering the basics, looking after your body, learn from everything, never fear mistakes, build your mental strength, value your relationships and above all else, enjoy your journey. One day, you’ll look back as I have and it won’t be the trophies or the goals you remember. It’ll be the people, the life lessons and the moments that shaped you. These are the things that makes football more than just a game.
