Not every team has one and I'm fortunate in that very few of the teams I've been on has had one. However when we have pickup games, due to breaks between seasons or public holidays meaning that attendances would be low, I've had this misfortune to have one on my team with startling regularity.
There's this particular type of bloke, always a bloke since it's not a co-ed team, who, through genetics, habit or an unseen force anointing him, takes it upon himself to vociferously tell his team mates what to do.
That's great you say because communication on the pitch is hugely effective in a team game. Absolutely, I'll concede but I'd like to see some level of correlation between said blokes instructions and his own ability. Screaming 'CONTROL!' at some poor sap at the point at which he would have done something reasonable with ball only then to be startled like a 3 year old with a jack-in-the-box is not really contributing to the team. Even better when the aforementioned poor sap then invariably gives the ball away, the ensuing spittle ridden vein popping "COME ON!" really does his confidence no end of good.
All the while Mr Shouty Face is blasting his pearls of footballing wisdom at a Spinal Tap volume level 11 the irony of the ball slicing sideways off his boot as he attempts to pass the ball, unopposed, to a teammate 5 yards away seems to escape him. Even better though, he recognises his inability to comprehend or contribute in the subtly of the possession game so he hacks the ball as hard as he can up the field to the opposing goal keeper whist screaming at someone to "GET ON THE END OF THAT!". Bewildered forwards stand around looking at comets flying over their heads 50 yards into the distance wondering if they could perhaps swap to the other team at half time - maybe that was just me.
One of the best examples was encouraging the team to "CLOSE THEM DOWN!" whilst standing out on the wing well away from any kind of involvement. This was particularly helpful after we'd been frantically chasing shadows to the point of exhaustion and had slowed down a smidgen. Clearly our loss of effort and speed had been noticed by the well rested voice of encouragement and screaming at his clearly out numbered and less proficient team mates was just what we needed. I handled that bit of advice with the diplomacy and dignity for which I'm renowned. Oh and I changed teams at half time.
There's this particular type of bloke, always a bloke since it's not a co-ed team, who, through genetics, habit or an unseen force anointing him, takes it upon himself to vociferously tell his team mates what to do.
That's great you say because communication on the pitch is hugely effective in a team game. Absolutely, I'll concede but I'd like to see some level of correlation between said blokes instructions and his own ability. Screaming 'CONTROL!' at some poor sap at the point at which he would have done something reasonable with ball only then to be startled like a 3 year old with a jack-in-the-box is not really contributing to the team. Even better when the aforementioned poor sap then invariably gives the ball away, the ensuing spittle ridden vein popping "COME ON!" really does his confidence no end of good.
All the while Mr Shouty Face is blasting his pearls of footballing wisdom at a Spinal Tap volume level 11 the irony of the ball slicing sideways off his boot as he attempts to pass the ball, unopposed, to a teammate 5 yards away seems to escape him. Even better though, he recognises his inability to comprehend or contribute in the subtly of the possession game so he hacks the ball as hard as he can up the field to the opposing goal keeper whist screaming at someone to "GET ON THE END OF THAT!". Bewildered forwards stand around looking at comets flying over their heads 50 yards into the distance wondering if they could perhaps swap to the other team at half time - maybe that was just me.
One of the best examples was encouraging the team to "CLOSE THEM DOWN!" whilst standing out on the wing well away from any kind of involvement. This was particularly helpful after we'd been frantically chasing shadows to the point of exhaustion and had slowed down a smidgen. Clearly our loss of effort and speed had been noticed by the well rested voice of encouragement and screaming at his clearly out numbered and less proficient team mates was just what we needed. I handled that bit of advice with the diplomacy and dignity for which I'm renowned. Oh and I changed teams at half time.
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