Why Did I Not Enjoy Winning?

It seems like a strange question to ask myself. Something was missing. It provides a strange scenario, but it has happened a few times now to not be a fluke.

I'll provide two examples for comparison.

League winners with University of Surrey Men's Second Team.

League winners with Southampton Saints Ladies futsal.

Both situations were in recent memory, and they draw many parallels that I shall now list below.

• Both leagues were won on the final day.
• Both victories were tense and nerve-wracking.
• I bonded very well with both teams.
• Both teams played the kind of game I was instructing them to play.
• Both teams put in amazing performances that were close to their level of highest performance.
• Both teams nearly blew their chances.
• Both teams underperformed at least once were able to get away with it.

There will be more, I'm sure, but in many big ways, the stories of success were similar. The only key difference is that with Surrey, I came into the season after they had already played their first game. They told me they could win the league, we went on to lose our next two games, and in that time, we'd figured it out. We knew how to play, what was needed to succeed, and began bulldozing our way to the top. With Saints, we went undefeated all the way, only dropping points once, in the final game. I think it's here, on that final day, where I can find what was missing.

Surrey's Final Game - Away v Chichester 15th March 2017

We were in 1st place going into the game, but that was a false position, Reading, the team who were also in contention for the title, had a game in hand, and it was against the league's weakest team. The win wasn't the issue, it was only how many they'd win by. We had played Reading a few weeks before, and a loss there put Reading in the driving seat (although driving from behind, but they had more games and easier fixtures). A win would have pretty much sealed the title for us, whereas the loss almost blew it. We had to hope they'd make a mistake so that we could get back in front. I kept telling the players, and it was a bold faced lie, that Reading would drop points. I said it again and again, but I didn't believe it.

The game against Chichester was a beautiful day on the South Coast. We had beaten them 8-2 before, but they weren't that bad, just that a few players imploded, and became so angry it was like playing against children having tantrums. At the same time, Reading were playing Portsmouth, who were a good side, but were prone to underperforming. We needed a Portsmouth win, or else it was a foregone conclusion that Reading would win the title. A win for Portsmouth and a win for us would mean the title was ours.

We started the game poorly, and were lucky not to concede. It took around twenty minutes for us to calm down and play our game. With seconds to go before half-time, we went 1-0 up. Kind of against the run of play. That changed the dynamics of the match. Just after the restart, we were 2-0 up. Chichester were fuming. How had that happened? We were not the better side. Then came the onslaught. We needed another goal, as that would kill the game off. Chichester kept coming, but it wasn't working. They couldn't finish, hitting the woodwork and missing open goals. Then we finally got the third with around twenty minutes left of play. The captain and top goal scorer sealed the deal for us. We'd done our part, and now it was down to fate.

Back in the changing rooms, everyone was in a lulled state. Refreshing every page on our phones trying to get any insight into the other game. One of the players finally found something. It had said on Twitter than Portsmouth had won. If that were true, it meant we were champions. Some of the boys took it, and that meant a big wet, naked cuddle in the middle of the room, while the rest of us, not quite buying it, were still in suspense. It took about another twenty minutes as more proof came in, but I was hesitant. Portsmouth were known jokers. I had imagined them giggling like Beavis and Butthead while posting updates to Twitter that weren't true. For me, it took a day to be truly convinced, which was when the official website was updated.

Saints' Final Game - Neutral v Academica 22nd July 2016

It was my idea from the start to get a team into the newly conceived Hampshire Futsal League. It was a round robin of four teams, playing each team twice. Pretty much everyone was a novice to futsal, apart from our title rivals, Academica. It didn't help that many of them had associations with our rival football teams in the area. Nonetheless, in our first game of the season, we despateched of them 3-0. We defended the whole game and scored three goals on the counter, against what was clearly a talented and well organised side. Throughout the season, we both destroyed the other teams in the league, amounting sizeable goal differences. We both nearly slipped up once along the way. We went into the final game of the season two points ahead, but one goal behind on goal difference. It would have been nicer to have had the goal difference as well, meaning that only an absolute savage beating would mean we would not be champions. Nevertheless, it meant draw or win, and we won the league.

We had meant to play each other at the mid point of the season. That was already a title decider. A win would have put us six points ahead with two games remaining, meaning just one point would have won the title. For that game, we had such a strong team. We were up for it. We were ready for blood. But the hall was not ready for us. The school we played at were having exams. The court was lined with hundreds of desks. They had forgotten to inform us of that. What a pain.

Then came the final game. The real game. Do or die. It was incredibly hot that day. Everyone was tense. We perhaps weren't as strong as The Day of The Desks with some noticeable injuries and absences. Our opponents were stacked. Ringers galore. But as a new league, registration was always open. They brought in some of the top players from the area through their footballing links, including players from Portsmouth, our main footballing rivals, and a Northern Irish international we'd had at trials, but who passed on us to go to Pompey. This clearly meant something to them.

My team were perhaps a little worried about all the talent they had seen. I turned it around and said that in fact it is they who are scared of you, hence the major reinforcements they had brought in. The game was tense. The players knew that one goal would be the difference between life and death, glory and failure, and they didn't want to be responsible for that mistake. Emotional control was key. Don't get wound up, don't let the occasion consume you. Both teams had big chances, with great saves, and woodwork being struck.

Then it happened. The killer blow. Five minutes from time, and their forward cut inside, and hit a low driven shot to the centre of the goal. It nutmegged three players on the way in. What a fluke. All was not lost. We used our timeout. We went outside and calmly discussed the situation. The opposition were now going to sit back and defend. Our favourite thing about them is that they can't defend. We can. We were a team of defenders. Our opponents had most of the ball up until this point. Five minutes is a long time, and we needed only one goal. It takes seconds to get a goal. Be patient, as our chance will come. When it does, we'll take it. The team were calm yet focused. They knew what they needed to do. We had not lost our confidence or our drive.

What happened in those final minutes was incredible. One of the most amazing memories of mine as a coach. Our goalkeeper scored with two minutes remaining. It was a thunderbolt into the top corner of the net. But it nearly went wrong. A restart from the side, the keeper came out of her goal to receive it. With all four teammates in the other half, the passing options were limited. A lone defender came over the halfway line to pressure our keeper. She took a dodgy touch. The opponent saw the opportunity to steal the ball and put it into the empty net. Our keeper responded well, tapping it to the right with the outside of her boot to evade the challenge. She then unleashed a shot with the laces that was as if Zeus himself hat hit it. One of the hardest shots I've ever seen, yet one of the slowest goals to ever go in. We erupted! Before calming down, with 120 seconds to go. Timeout for the opposition. We focus, we don't do anything silly, and we play rationally. If the ball is in the air, the opposition can't use it. If the ball is off the court, it is not in play. If we have time and space to keep it, we do so, rather than giving the ball away. Do all we can to limit the time the ball is on the ground at the opposition's feet. Defend for your lives. They pulled their keeper and threw the kitchen sink at us. Our opponents couldn't defend, but we can. We rode that wave to the league championship.

Why does one feel different?

With both teams, I enjoyed working with them very much. I loved the games and the sessions. Following the clinching of both titles, I went out with both teams for burgers to celebrate. We talked rubbish and reflected on our achievement. They are so evenly comparable. The difference is, at Saints, it was never out of our hands. If we did our job, we would be champions. At Surrey, due to our mistake, it was out of our hands. We had to hope and pray that Reading fell, which they did. We did the business, but it wasn't down to us 100% in the way it was at Saints.

I'm proud of both achievements, and highlight the way the teams played when I want to brag about my coaching abilities. I hope to keep in contact with the players of both teams as I enjoyed the experience so much. At Surrey, we got a second chance we perhaps didn't deserve. Is that a perfectionist attitude to have? The team were ecstatic. I'm not.

It's different as a fan in some ways, as you have no control over what happens. And there are different emotions at the end of the game depending upon the circumstances. A draw can feel like a win or a loss. What contributes to that is the stature of the two competitors, the impact of the result, and the running of events during the games.

Two other examples spring to mind. In my recent game with my Aldershot boys, we won 7-5. We played great football. The best attacking display of the season. We should have won 7-2. In the last twenty minutes, we conceded three goals in a thirteen minute stretch. That put it to 6-5. It wasn't until our forward scored an amazing free-kick that we truly put the game to bed. That three goal slip nearly cost us. And it's not about results, it's about performance, and for those thirteen minutes, we performed poorly. The boys lowered their game and forgot how to kick a football. That's not good enough. Instead of being over the moon for a 7-2 win, we came off perhaps relieved for a 7-5 win. Well, I did at least. The players and parents were thrilled. It was a win.

And similarly with Portsmouth a few weeks back, we beat West Ham 4-0. West Ham can provide a banana skin for some teams in the league. 4-0 win on paper seems good, but West Ham only brought ten players with them, and we were 3-0 up very early on in the game. For an hour against ten players, we only won 1-0. That's dreadful. "A win is a win" many people will tell me. Winning is binary; you either win or you don't. "But Will, you can draw" yes you can, which does not conflict my statement that you either win or you don't. A draw is not winning. As a coach looking to develop players, I cannot just accept a win if it was a terrible performance. If parts of our play were inexcusable, we can't just smooth it over with "at least we won." We should obviously be happy for a win, but never satisfied with poor performance.

As a coach looking to win championships, again, I can't be happy with poor performances. There are times you have to win ugly. You can dig in and grind out a positive result. I get that. That shows determination and guts. You don't find those aspects in poor performances, and that's when I become annoyed. For thirteen minutes, my Aldershot boys did not show determination and guts. My Pompey team only showed their guts for the first half an hour against West Ham, In fact, West Ham, the technically inferior team, and the numerically inferior team, can feel very good about their performance. It should have been far more than four. We got to four and were happy. They kept playing the entire match, determined we wouldn't score another. They showed the guts we didn't. If we want to win titles, we need to make sure every game and every training that we show our determination. We cannot let our standards slide. The standards you set are the standards you set. With standards lowering, we perform worse. Declining performances correlates to declining results.

Does this make me a perfectionist? No. I think more of a realist that isn't blinded by hype. It keeps my feet on the ground. Saying "Well done, Will, you beat West Ham 4-0" and replying with "Why yes, thanks, we were fantastic today" how does that help my next session? It also teaches my players that I am accepting of okay. We did okay. We did our job and won, like we were expected to. The performance was okay. It wasn't acceptable. It wasn't a high standard, like we should be striving for. We took our foot off the gas.

I would have been happy at Aldershot with a 7-2 win. It's kids football, and we know that football happens. Kids games are always wild scores. A five goal margin and tighter defence than we normally show, is a very good sign, and a great step in the right direction. Capitulating and conceding three goals in thirteen minutes is a step in the wrong direction. And with West Ham, 4-0 against eleven players would have been good, when weighing up the strength of our two teams. But 4-0 against ten? And after being 3-0 so early in the game? Saying that, we did have plenty of chances. In fact, as many as we did in the first half, we just couldn't finish. Does that suggest players literally and figuratively took their eye off the ball?

You can be a perfectionist in some areas, such as your standards, like shirts tucked in and arriving on time, and also in your session design, making sure it is at optimum levels of effectiveness. In other areas, you have to be a realist. It's a trade off. I know we'll concede goals throughout the season, I just don't want it to be many. I know we'll beat the opponent this weekend, but it shouldn't be by the odd goal, it should be more than 1-0. I know we'll lose our next game against this massively superior opponent, it just shouldn't be humiliating, as we should fight them every kick of the game. Realism.

This goes some way to explain the phenomena of not being completely satisfied when you win, and not being totally upset when you lose. When Arsenal played Lincoln City, anything less than 5-0 would have been embarrassing for the Gunners. For Lincoln, a 1-0 loss would have been quite respectable. Know what I'm saying?

At Saints, we earned that league, through our blood, sweat, and tears. At Surrey, we messed things up and were handed a second chance.