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Usyk Fury 2 Preview – Two Titans v Father Time

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On Saturday night the two best heavyweights in the world meet again seven months after their first meeting. It was an epic fight that I am convinced will age superbly. Oleksandr Usyk deservedly walked away with all the marbles and cemented his legacy as an all time great. The first man to hand Tyson Fury defeat, Usyk proved himself to be the ultimate competitor on a night which at the mid point of the bout looked like it would see Fury get his hand raised. As with all great fights there were ebbs and flows, with momentum swinging one way then the other. Usyk, who started the fight in really composed fashion, eventually emerged victorious despite having to withstand 4 or 5 rounds of Fury in a state of full flow. In those middle rounds Fury landed shots to the body and head, maintaining control of distance and utilising his considerable reach advantage. Usyk’s legendary ability to maintain not only his form, his shape and his composure but also the poker face that means you never reall...
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Boxing Clever: Watching your child make their way in the sweet science

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  Your first instinct as a parent - aside from boundless, infinite love - is surely to protect. To care for and take care of, this young person you helped bring into this world. So the idea of agreeing to, supporting and being entirely complicit in that young person participating in a sport as dangerous, barbarian and brutal as boxing is not one that sits comfortably with many parents. I completely understand if people judge me, and I hope that I never live to regret it. I know the risks and I discussed them with my son, who at the age of 13 decided that boxing would be a good sport to try. Once he tried it, he realised he wanted to do more than just try it. It's ok hitting a bag a few times, learning to skip, doing a bit of shadow boxing and practising throwing basic shots with other beginners, but going into full contact sparring and getting whacked on the end of the nose is usually the point at which some decide boxing's not for them. And who could blame them?  But not our ...
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Retreating into the Shadows

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 I'm done coaching No, this isn't a teenage tantrum or a response to criticism from the terraces or a player's family. I just cannot fit coaching in my life, and to be honest I don't even want to any more. I've spent most of the 12 years I've been coaching trying to juggle other, frankly more important factors with a burning desire to coach/manage. When I stopped playing I knew I was heading for the dug out. If ever someone who played the game was destined to coach it was me. Big mouth, massive in fact. I'd been telling everyone else what to do for years, giving team talks, helping managers recruit, taking warm ups, leading post match inquests....you get the picture. I felt like I'd be good at it. I also knew where I thought I'd end up coaching. I mean, level wise. I thought I'd work in the semi pro game and perhaps even in the pro game once I'd progressed and made my way along the journey. I expected to go through the gears so to speak...
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The Toughest Job

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So this season I'm coaching my son and I won't lie to you, it's the hardest thing I've done in football. This article is to some extent comment on an important issue, and also to some extent a cathartic process for me! Football consumes me at times....if you're a coach as well I'd hazard a guess you can relate to some extent. Whether it is relationships with your own players, tactical concepts, planning coaching sessions...it can be all consuming if you love the game with immense passion. From a young age I was brainwashed - not in a bad way but football was fused into my conscious and subconscious daily life. From a 30 mile detour to visit Crook Town's ground in the middle of summer whilst on holiday, to sharing a freezing cold referee's changing room with my dad and two fellow officials down at Port Soif on a wet January Saturday afternoon, to trips to The Priestfield Stadium, Loftus Road, Dean Court, Feethams and (our beloved) Ayresome Park amon...
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Pride Comes Before a Fall

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With the exception of some work I did in Soccer Schools over 20 years ago when I was a University student and a few sessions helping the coaches at my son’s grass roots club in England, all of my coaching career has been spent working with senior sides or under 19 groups. My aspirations as a coach remain with those age groups – it’s where I think I am best – but for now football has to work around other priorities and as such, I find myself coaching the Alevin age group (2007/2008 year of birth) at CD Rincon – a Tercera league club near Malaga. I assist the head coach Antonio, and my son plays in the team having moved from another of the teams we have in that age group this season. It’s not my preference football wise, but there are a lot of positives to be taken from the experience. Helping me to learn the language is a massive benefit…I’d much rather learn Spanish in a football environment than in a class room….and in terms of helping our family settle in to life in a different...
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"Excuse me mate - what's the score?"

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Picture the scene…..your team are 3-2 up with a couple of mins to go. Your star centre forward picks up the ball out wide, drives at their last defender and goes past him before crashing a shot across the goalkeeper. The ball looks headed for the back of the net but the keeper does brilliantly to get a hand to the shot and palm it down. A pair of opposing players follow the rebound in and as both defender and attacker stretch desperately for the ball, it’s the attacker who just gets a toe on it and the ball dribbles agonisingly over the line for the opponents. Their players and fans let out a cry of angst in unison. And what do you do? Play it cool and keep a lid on things? Nah…..a fist pump to accompany that cry of “get in!”, and a quick man hug with your fellow coaching staff. But then, just as you turn back to the players on the pitch, you catch a glimpse of something you can’t ignore out of the corner of your eye. The defender who failed to clear the ball is close to tear...
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Playing Out....

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…no, not from the back, just actually playing outside...in the fresh air. “….in my day we went out and kicked a ball about every day until it was dark”. Yes, we’ve all heard those words and many of us have said them, me included. The ‘in my day’ crowd look back fondly to their youth and bemoan the fact that playgrounds and playing fields in the UK are largely empty, even during the summer holidays. Life has changed - and we need to change with it. IPads, mobile phones, 500+ channels on the television, health and safety, the weather….take your pick as to the reasons but I don’t think we can deny that whilst it represents change, it also represents a problem that impacts on the development of the nation’s young footballing talent. I’m sure here in Spain that similar changes have occurred…but there is a world of difference between what I see here and what I saw in the UK. Wherever I go, kids seem to be playing outside and I am constantly amazed by the number of public ...
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