After the game against Frickley, Pat was full of confidence. He’d performed well and been playing two years up.
Seeing his name mentioned on the Sheffield FC u18’s Facebook write up wasn’t bad either.
The day before Pat’s 16th birthday, I got a text from Jon asking if he was available for the next round of the cup. The tie was away at Ossett United, that Thursday.
There wasn’t a training session in the run up to the game, so because of that, I guessed he might be playing again but didn’t assume anything until we were told.
From getting up for work early on Thursday morning, the weather was miserable. It rained non-stop and the forecast was for that to continue, at least until kick off at 7.30pm. The drive up the M1 to Wakefield was awful.
Pat, Ailish, my dad and me got to the ground in plenty of time. A steward pointed out where to park and reminded us (a couple of times) to come back up to the turnstile to pay the entrance fee.
Paying to watch Pat play has happened a few times now. It’s only a few quid and it’s all in aid of the clubs involved. Still makes me laugh though.
Pat walked up to the changing rooms and then disappeared from view. I hadn’t had much chance to talk to him in the car. I wish I had because once we were there, the unfamiliar surroundings and grim weather made it feel quite daunting. Frickley at home had been a big test but this felt different.
We went to get coffees and sat in the covered stand behind the top goal in an attempt to keep warm and dry.
The players came out not long after to start their warm up. The teams hadn’t been announced at this point but from what was happening at the far end of the pitch, Pat looked to be starting again.
I watched some of the Ossett team knocking the ball about and they looked very good. My curiosity had got the better of me earlier in the day and I’d looked at some of their previous results.
As a goalkeeper’s dad it didn’t make happy reading.
7-0 and 5-0 in the last two rounds of the FA Youth Cup. 9-0, 9-1 and 3-1 in their last games in the u18’s JPL. Scored 33 and conceded 2 in five games. I hadn’t passed this information on to Pat.
I had told him they were a good side, with a good reputation. But I’d left it at that.
Not long before kick off, the teams were announced.
I was obviously delighted for him but also having seen those results, had the feeling it could be a difficult night for Pat. The three of us decided to walk round to the small stand at the side of the pitch. My thinking was that if it didn’t go well for Pat, at least he could see us. A bit of moral support.
As we got round to the stand, about 7 or 8 young teenagers walked past us. I didn’t give it much thought at the time as they trooped down towards the small stand behind Pat’s goal. I assumed that was where they went most home games. Their favoured piece of the ground.
The game kicked off and Ossett were all over us. It wasn’t long before they were getting in behind the defence. They went 1-0 up on 2 minutes. A hard, low shot that fizzed off the wet surface. Pat got his hand to it but couldn’t keep it out. On 6 minutes, they were 2-0 up. This time the forward dribbled past a few defenders and struck another low shot.
I was fearing the worst at 2-0 down with not much more than 5 minutes gone but the Sheffield lads rolled up their sleeves and started to play a bit. In the best piece of play from our point of view, the advancing Ossett keeper was beaten from outside the area but a defender got back and cleared the danger.
The ball was still very much down Pat’s end the majority of the time. Every time it went near him or when it was in his possession, the teenagers behind the goal were shouting at him. Everything you see or hear keepers putting up with in the professional game, was happening to Pat.
On goal kicks he was given the, “you’re sh**, ahhhh” treatment.
Fetching the ball when it had gone out of play. “You’re f***ing sh** keeper!” “You’re w***, f*** off!”
Maybe it was naivety on my part but I was stunned. I never expected anything like it. He’s played grassroots, development and academy football, where you can’t even stand behind the goal, never mind shout abuse. ‘Respect’ markers or ropes on the sidelines are compulsory on Sunday mornings. OK, they aren’t always effective but this was something else.
I felt a mixture of anger and helplessness.
It was around this point that he managed to silence the noise from behind the goal, even if it was only for a matter of seconds. One of the Sheffield lads attempted a clearance but smashed it against an Ossett player. It rebounded towards the bottom right hand corner of Pat’s goal and skidded off the surface. He reacted quickly, sprinted and dived early, using the wet surface to help his dive. He got his right hand to the ball and touched it out for a corner. It was a really good save. The group were eagerly waiting for it to make its way into the bottom corner. Their cheers stopped.
After about half an hour, a low cross from the left created a third goal for Ossett, finished first time. The taunting continued from behind the goal. And on the stroke of half time, an Ossett player controlled the ball, moved it onto his left foot and knocked it into the top corner from about 25 yards out.
Half time, 4-0.
At least, I thought, he’s halfway there. I couldn’t see them being bothered to keep up the abuse for another 45 minutes. At least not to the same extent, being 4-0 up. Even the biggest optimist would have struggled to put a case for Sheffield making a comeback. The keeper wouldn’t need distracting any more. Surely.
After listening to what he’d put up with, I suggested to Ailish and my dad that we take a walk up to the top goal where Pat would be in the second half. They agreed. We walked up and sat on the second row from the front, just to the left of the goal. I didn’t pay much attention to who was already in the stand but Pat’s first half fan club were also making their way round. They sat on the front row, but at the opposite side of the goal to us.
I wanted to walk over and say something. I don’t know what I wanted to say. Just something to stop them having a go at my lad. But I knew I couldn’t.
The teams started coming back onto the pitch. As he walked up towards the goal, I wanted Pat to see us and know we were there.
It was the same sort of feeling I had when he first started playing at under 8’s and he’d be stood in goal. The tiny goalie. A lot of the time, a lonely little figure in the most pressurised position of all. I just wanted him to do well and enjoy himself. It was no different now.
Without standing up and waving like the embarrassing parent, I tried to get his attention. It didn’t work. Although the stand was hardly the Stretford End, I think we just blended in to the rest of the faces behind the goal. Not that he particularly looked up. He just hung his towel on the netting, turned round and walked back towards the edge of the area. As he was walking away, I heard something shouted from somewhere behind the goal but couldn’t make out what or from where.
The game restarted and to our relief, Sheffield started quite brightly. Pat was hardly a bystander but had less to do than in the first half.
But his treatment was along the same lines as in the first half. Only there was another group adding to the shouting. The shout I’d heard as he was walking away from goal was from this other group but as I kept glancing over my shoulder, they looked older than Pat. More like the same age as the older players on the pitch.
Again, any time the ball came near him, he was singled out. Ailish looked at me – as I’ve said before, they definitely have their disagreements but she’s very protective and wants him to do well when it comes to football – her jaw had dropped.
“Why are they shouting all that stuff at Pat? What’s he done to them?”
I tried to reassure her, all the time, worrying about him myself. “He probably won’t be able to hear them.” The only problem was, from where we were, it was as clear as a bell. It seemed to be a few lads out of a group of about 10 or 12. Ailish looked over her shoulder at them and turned back to me. “They look like a right bunch of chavs.”
Without going into all the details, the abuse was constant from this point on and it was all directed at Pat. He carried on doing what he’d been doing from the start of the first half. Shouting, instructing his team mates, making saves.
A couple of times when he took goal kicks, I shouted “Well done Pat.” In the hope he heard it and it gave him a boost.
Similar to the first half when the cheers had been silenced, Pat made a save that quietened them down. An Ossett player cut inside from the right and hit a shot across him. He moved his feet quickly, extended his arms and grasped the ball. He did very well to hold it in the wet conditions.
Ossett made it 5-0 with a deep cross to the back post with less than 10 minutes to go. “That’s your fault keeper! You’re f***ing useless!”
It looked like those running the Sheffield FC and Ossett United Twitter accounts disagreed with them.
The final whistle was only moments away and felt like it would be a huge relief but then with only a minute left to play Ossett made it 6-0. A really clever flick at the near post.
The ref blew for full time. Pat took his towel off the net and made his way towards the Ossett players to shake hands. As Pat was walking away from us, an Ossett midfielder came towards the stand. The big group that had been shouting at Pat in the second half went towards the player. It looked like most of them had Ossett tracksuits or jackets on, so likely that they were part of the squad. It also looked like they were his personal fan club.
In contrast, Pat trudged off towards the changing rooms.
We walked round and waited outside for him. The general feeling amongst the parents I spoke to was they’d had a good cup run but had come up against a very talented Ossett team. Pat came out not long after. Looking a bit fed up but not as much as I expected.
We drove back to Sheffield. As always, we picked the bones out of it for a while, dwelling on the positives. The saves he’d made, the whole experience of playing for the u18’s and how good his kicks were during the match particularly with the stick he was getting.
On that subject he said he knew what they were shouting but just tried to block it out and concentrate on his game. “Maybe they thought they needed to put me off.”
I said he might be right and he should take it as a compliment – however difficult it felt at the time – I also added that he was the one on the pitch and they were the ones sat in the stand, which says a lot to me.
We got home and when it was just us, I told him how proud I was of not only what he’d done over the two games but in general too. He seemed quite upbeat. He went for a shower. I went to bed.
In the morning I woke up just after 4.30, to get ready for work and looked at my phone. I’d got a message from Jon after I’d gone to sleep.
It was a lovely message to get. Since then, he’s been asked to go training with the u18’s development team but that’s another story.
So even with all the abuse that he had to put up with, things like that message really help you to keep the faith.
Keeper of the faith 