Yesterday I started my first trial, with Vasby United of the
same league as ESK. Today it ended. More on that in a bit. As you may recall, I mentioned that Vasby and
IK Sirius were the best teams in the league, though Vasby is in the bottom half
of the standings and has very little chance of being promoted to Superettan
this year. To train and trial with Vasby
though is still a good opportunity. They
are a club with resources and ambition, so it’s a good place to train and play,
even if they aren’t going to likely win the league. There’s a big problem though. My ankle.
My ankle has been bothering me ever since I injured it in my
last game with ESK two weeks ago. I was
only able to go for a jog a few days ago, but the ankle is at about 70% right
now. I can get through a training, but I’m
certainly not impressive. This is a big
problem because I have to stand out in order to get a contract offer from
Vasby. They already have 22-23 players
contracted so they won’t be signing anyone just to do it. That said, obviously I got the trial because
Vasby has seen me play multiple times and was interested. That’s what made it so strange when after
training today the coach asked to speak with me.
I had just played very well in training despite my ankle
being injured. We did all small sided
stuff, and the only time I could really show was as an extra player in a 6v6+1
game to goal at the end. In this drill I
was brilliant and created goal after goal, though I didn’t score any
myself. That’s because as the all-time
offense player, I tended to stay in the middle of the field. That way, if the team I was with suddenly
lost the ball, then I wouldn’t be in a position where I’d normally be counted
upon to defend.
My point is I played at the highest level I possibly could
considering the ankle. And the coach knew
about the ankle via the physio. So you
can imagine my surprise when he told me that I would not be continuing my
trial. He told me that I was more of a 2nd
striker, not a “#9” which is what they are looking for. That’s fine, in fact it’s true, but how would
he know that? I had only trained for two
days and we never played on a full-size field.
In small sided games, there really isn’t a way to play as a #9. There’s no space to create and you end up
playing with a lot of interchangeable midfielders. In addition, they’ve seen me play at least
twice, and every time they will have seen me playing as a winger. What made them bring me in to train? And if they wanted me to be a #9 and not a
winger, then why not tell me? You just
see me play great then say, “Well, he’s good enough but we’ve already got 5
wingers.” I don’t get it at all and I
feel like this trial was a total waste of my time. I am not a #9 in the traditional sense. I can play as a center forward in a 1 forward
system, but I cannot play as a big bruiser and ball winner. I can play the position using my speed and
intelligence to keep the center backs occupied, much like I did in college.
I know I mentioned that I loved my time in England with
Celia. Now, I feel like I left too
soon. I assumed that I’d be offered a
contract extension from ESK and even if I didn’t accept it, I figured I’d still
perhaps be forced to train the last couple days of the month or be fined. That’s why I left London when I did. I could just as well have had my meeting with
the ESK GM on the phone and not done the Vasby trial until my ankle fully
healed. Nothing would have been
different. In fact, things may very well
have been better because I could have shown myself properly when I actually had
the trial. Or sorted out what they were
looking for before I arrived. Instead, I
ended up stuck in Enkoping, paying ridiculous money to take a 90 minute each
way public transit journey to trial with a team while I’m effectively injured. If I was going to waste my money, I’d buy the
Olympic swimming competition tickets for the very top where you can’t even see
the pool. Not take a train and two buses
to suburban Stockholm and back.
Lastly, I’ll go a bit off topic and talk about the Olympic
Games. I have always been a huge fan of
the Olympics, in part because track and field always seem to be a big event and
I’ve always been fast. I remember
watching Michael Johnson break those world records (200m, 400m) in Atlanta and
how crazy my dad went over that. He ran
track in high school and college and admired Johnson’s ability. My pops also ran with Edwin Moses in high
school. Moses went on to become the
greatest 400m hurdler of all time. I’ve
met Moses. Maybe meet isn’t the right
word because I was a baby, but I’ve been in his presence. I dreamed of running in the Olympics long
before I dreamed of playing in the World Cup.
The way things are going at the moment, I have half a mind
to just go back to London and soak up the Olympic atmosphere and spend more
time with Celia. I could still sort out
a contract after the Games were over. But
I know I can’t do that. I have to suck
it up and make things work. I’ll be going
to Finland next week for a trial and we’ll see what happens. It’s already been setup and confirmed, but I’ll
wait until I’m actually there before I reveal the club. It’s just easier that way in case anything
happens in the interim.
Those of you who have stuck with me for 1150 words deserve a
treat, so I’ll tell you an amazing story.
Maybe not amazing, but definitely strange and perhaps funny. It took me four hours to get home after
training today with Vasby because the public transit is much less frequent,
meaning I had to wait 45+ minutes two or three times on the way home. During one of those stops, in Balsta, I was
sitting on a bench about 50 yards from the bus stop at like a bus station café,
though it was closed. Whenever I travel
I read so I had my kindle out and was reading Zlatan Ibrahimovic’s
autobiography. There were probably five
people in sight. Out of nowhere some
lady comes around a nearby corner kinda quickly and brushed my hair with her
hand. It caught me off guard because I
didn’t see her coming and wasn’t expected any contact at that moment, so I
looked up towards her (she had taken one or two more steps at that point and
was about five feet away) and you’ll never guess what she did.
She, in a comedy cartoon style, put one foot like six inches
off the ground and farted. It was the
weirdest thing ever. It sounded like a
trombone. Then she looked around for a
second like she was going to sit but instead just walked away. Keep in mind, we’re not talking about like
some adolescent girl. This woman must
have been in her late-30s. She looked
kind of trashy though, so maybe she was drunk or something. I just figured you’d enjoy that little insult
right at the end of my day. It reminded
me of a Family Guy clip:
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