Where’s Your Caravan?: My Life on Football’s B-Roads

Where’s Your Caravan?: My Life on Football’s B-Roads
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Описание книги

Forget Torres, Rooney, Beckham and the like. This is what football is really about. One man’s story of a career in the lower leagues.Chris Hargreaves has been a professional footballer for twenty years. Having started out as a youth team player at Everton he made his debut for Grimsby Town in 1989 and was earmarked as their first million pound sale.It never happened.Instead he went on to play for Scarborough, Hull City, West Brom, Hereford United, Plymouth Argyle, Northampton Town, Brentford, Oxford United and Torquay United.Where's Your Caravan? is the sort of football memoir we don't see enough of these days – an account of life in the lower leagues. It takes us from his wild youth – lots of sex and drugs and drink – through to domesticated family man – school runs and flatpack furniture with plenty of football in between.

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Chris Hargreaves. Where’s Your Caravan?: My Life on Football’s B-Roads

Chris Hargreaves. Where’s Your Caravan?

Dedication

Contents

Where’s your caravan?

Early Days

1989/90

1990/91

1991/92

1992/93

1993/94

1994/95

1995/96

1996/97

1997/98

1998/99

1999/2000

2000/01

2001/02

2002/03

2003/04

2004/05

2005/06

2006/07

2007/08

2008/09

2009/10

Epilogue

Copyright

About the Publisher

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To my beautiful family, Fiona, Cameron, Isabella

and Harriet. I am one lucky man.

.....

Seeing how some modern day academies work, what with their state-of-the-art artificial pitches, video analysis, core and balance sessions, and their attention to every detail, it amazes me how we managed back then. Most of the academies try to follow the newfound rule that if a young boy gets in ten thousand hours of football between the ages of, say, nine and seventeen, then he has a major chance of becoming a professional footballer. If I use Exeter City as an example, where I coach, and where my son plays, they train for seven and a half hours a week and have a game on a Saturday. Cameron is only twelve, and I do worry sometimes that he plays too much football, but I suppose this new thinking has replaced the ‘ball and a wall’ that was our academy when we were younger.

We had moved to a lovely new house in Bradford Avenue, and this is where my skills were honed, much to the distraction of my mum, dad, and neighbours. I would trot down the road like a thoroughbred, with the metal studs on my boots noisily making their way to the local park around the corner. I would also consistently bang the ball against the small wall at the back of our house, hour upon hour, until either it was tea time or it was dark, usually the latter. The worst offence was in the garden though, because as well as destroying most of the flowers and bushes that had once made this oasis the envy of all of our neighbours, I decided that the edges of the grass needed trimming. Over the course of a few months, and after many thousands of kick-ups, I managed to reduce the playing surface by about three quarters. My edging technique single-handedly ruined that garden, and also made sure that all my future kick-ups would be done at the local park.

.....

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