Chapter 4. The Day of the Match

When training is becoming a bore, the time has arrived to give the method serious thought: to find out what is wrong with it. That is one reason why I have suggested certain ways and means of getting fun - and fitness at the same time - out of training.

Apart from the incidental benefits, all preparations are made with these main objectives in mind: getting the full enjoyment out of the Saturday afternoon game, and playing to win the game if victory can possibly be achieved. The Boy Scouts' motto: Be Prepared, having been duly noted and followed, thought can be given to some of the things, big and little, which help on match day. Before dealing with them perhaps I should make it quite clear that I am fully aware that for thousands of players who turn out every Saturday many of the arrangements, so far as detail are concerned, cannot possibly be more than makeshifts. And if in my notes about what can be done to help on match-days I make reference to what the big shots of the game do, I don't even hope that they will be copied to the letter. They are mentioned so that they may serve as guide-posts.

It is quite natural, for instance, for the mother of the boy who is to take part in a football match on a Saturday afternoon to imagine that he will need something substantial to help him along; something specially good by way of a midday meal. In Lancashire certainly, the favorite dish for the midday meal on Saturday is potato pie: good food of which it can be said that there is only one thing better than a single helping -two helpings. In other parts of the country too, similar midday meals are provided for the family. While it is true that your young player can't be expected to play a decent game of football on an empty stomach, it may be suggested that he is more likely to give a satisfactory display on an empty stomach than on one which is over-full.

The pre-match food for the player who must be ready to give of his very best must be planned on different lines. The day can certainly, and wisely, be started with a satisfying breakfast. But the midday meal should be regarded as something merely to keep the player going. I have played scores of matches, without having bellows to mend before the finish, on nothing more, after breakfast, than a couple of slices of toast, with only a scraping of butter on them, and a cup of tea.

Even when the players of a professional club have to make a Saturday morning journey by train or coach they only have a light meal, 'a couple of hours at least before the kick-off. This consists of a bit of boiled fish or chicken, without any greens or potatoes - especially not potatoes. These may be nice, but they are no good for the wind.

Arrive at the ground where the match is to be played in good time, if this is possible. There are such a lot of little things to be done, and it is better to do them calmly rather than in a rush. I like to think of every footballer being quite ready to go on to the field a few minutes - two or three - before he actually has to step out. Those last few minutes in the dressing-room can profitably be spent in exercises which loosen the limbs. Then out on to the field - with one ball or more - in sufficient time for a kick-about before the whistle sounds for the off.

The two or three minutes in the middle can be used by individual players doing the things they will be expected to do in the actual play: the forwards shooting at the goalkeeper: the full-backs kicking out. Billy Nicholson and Ronnie Burgess, the wing half-backs of Tottenham Hotspur, will have a ball to themselves, and will spend the short time before the kick-off passing the ball to each other. When the play starts they will have to pass the ball to the fellows in front of them. That's the idea. In tune.

You can also see Stanley Mortensen taking short quick runs, getting himself loosened up for the time when he will be called on to dart between the full-backs. It isn't just done for fun, or to amuse the spectators. The quick goal is often worth two goals at least, and the fellows who are most likely to get it are those who are tuned up before the actual kick-off.

In due course the half-time whistle sounds, with its five minutes respite usually stretched to ten. Those precious minutes can be turned to good account. No matter what the day is like, shirts can be taken-off, and a rub down indulged in. It's refreshing; it puts new life into the player. A drink of tea -certainly not gassy minerals - is also helpful. Or a suck of a lemon - a very good old-fashioned habit. I suppose I should not be recommending my next suggestion; and I am not - as a drink. It is a fact, however, that during the half-time interval many players benefit from a whisky and water solution, not as a drink but as a gargle. A change of stockings can't do any harm either.

So back to the playing pitch for the second half- those last forty-five minutes in which the answer will be found to the question of whether that pre-match preparation, the training, has served its intended purpose. Here - very gingerly and guardedly - a note of warning may be inserted. Don't forget that there is still a lot to be done before the match is finished. The player has to be fit to stay the ninety minutes. That point has been insisted upon. Even so, once again let it be said that there is no purpose in using up energy needlessly. Conserve it.

All too often the merits of a player are assessed by the amount of running about he does. He's all over the place, nonstop from start to finish. What is more, there are players who can do this, and still stick it to the last whistle. There are others who can't, no matter how fit they are. Take little Jimmy Logie, Arsenal's inside forward. He turns out as fit as they make them, but even at that, he finds it necessary to conserve his energy. After putting in tremendous efforts for a period at inside right, dodging here, taking a bump there, he will switch to outside right, where he can take things comparatively easily for a little while. Having had his 'breather', he is ready to come back to his strenuous best.

Connected in a way with this idea of conserving energy is another plan which can be passed on, and which experience tells me needs to be mentioned. On the field of play there is no point in carrying around even half an ounce of unnecessary weight. Much has been made, in recent times, of the 'advance' of the players of Continental countries. The players of countries we used to beat by something like a cricket score - without putting in everything - are now so good that our best have difficulty in beating them while giving everything they've got. In the main, this is due to their effective learning of the game from their one-time masters. It struck me not so long ago, however, when a team from France came near to beating England on one of our own grounds, that there may be more in it than that. During the course of that game, in the heat of the encounter, the stockings of the centre-half of France came down. Their slipping revealed the fact that he was playing without shin-guards.

Making enquiries afterwards, I discovered that the majority of the French players had left their shin-guards in the dressing-room. Don't get me wrong. I am not now suggesting that the use of shin-guards by footballers should be taboo. The shins are a vulnerable part of the make-up of the footballer, and taking the long view it is wiser to have guards to protect them. In playing without them, however, the Frenchmen showed that they realized the virtues of traveling light, and their play demonstrated the value of quickness.

Looking at the picture presented by the legs of some footballers, the impression is given that, being unable to secure a neat light pair of shin-guards, they have taken a couple of cushions from the drawing-room sofa and wrapped them round the legs. I confess that I never played in a match without shin-guards of a sort, but the makers of those which were provided would have been shocked if they had seen the mess I made of them before putting them on. Every scrap of superfluous padding was cut away. Think of the moisture picked up - which means added weight to carry around - on a wet day, or a day on which the player perspires a lot. It is for this reason that ankle strappings and knee bandages should not be resorted to unless absolutely necessary.

As to their clothing in general, the players of some of the Continental countries can teach us something. They turn out in the lightest and shortest of shorts, and in the thinnest of shirts. No matter how fit the player may be, he can't be worse off for traveling light, and may be a more effective player because he does this.

So we come to the boots. Not even Tommy Lawton could play his best football in boots which weren't just right, in every detail. That is a statement so obvious that it really ought not to be necessary to make it. But oh, the number of people who overlook the obvious! Not long ago I had an engagement in the sports goods supply department of one of the big London stores. I stopped my walk round to look at a proud mother who was fitting out her bright-eyed, growing boy. A cricket bat was being chosen, and the mother was trying to persuade the lad that the one he had in his hand would suit him. I took it from the lad. Believe me, the bat was so heavy that big and strong Learie Gonstantine wouldn't have been able to make his best strokes with it.

Having dissuaded the fond mother from buying that bat, and in the process possibly conveyed to her that I knew something about the business, she dipped into her capacious shopping bag.

'Perhaps you will have a look at the football boots I've bought for him'.

I had a look at them - even persuaded the boy to put them on. They were at least two sizes too big for him.

'But he's sure to grow to their size quickly', said the mother.

That may have been true, but there was one thing more certain; that he wouldn't be able to play his best football in them meantime. The right boots fit the feet, everywhere.

There is often talk about star footballers who hate new boots; even a true story of a famous player who went into a Gup Final with a pair of boots so patched and held in their place by various devices that in the course of the match one of the boots actually split into two. The question repeatedly asked when this preference for old boots is mentioned usually runs on these lines; 'Why are the players so silly and superstitious?' Silly superstition isn't at the bottom of this preference for well-used boots. In due course, the feet of the player seem to grow to fit the boots like gloves.

New boots must be bought sooner or later, of course - sooner for the growing footballer. It's wise economy, not waste of money, to buy good boots, and to go to an expert fitter for them. They won't do if the feet are too small for them.

For what it is worth, I'll tell what I deemed it absolutely necessary to do with a new pair of boots. I bought a pair at least half a size smaller than I wore for ordinary civilian life. Then I took the studs out, pulled off my stockings, and went on to the practice field with the new boots on to do some gentle running. The feet had previously been rubbed with soap. What I was really doing was to take the first steps towards making my feet fit the boots.

Another warning about boots. Having bought good ones, take care of them. While they are new soak them in warm water. After a match, clean them, hang them up to dry -don't put them by a fire. A little rubbing now and then keeps them soft. Add good laces to the boots, and lace them in such a way - not to the top, because ankle freedom is necessary -that they remain laced through the match. Just one of the little things, but what a lot the little things add up too. Other things being equal they make the difference between success and failure. While this or that player has to stop to do up his bootlace, the other side may score a goal.

The footballer's feet are as precious as his legs. Cold shivers run down my spine when I see a footballer walking down a paved street to the ground in his football boots. The studs may make a nice resounding noise on the pavement, but what do his feet think about it before the match is over!

In due course the match will be over. That's the time when the players with the big clubs relax - first in the hot and then in the colder bath. Such facilities are not available for junior players. But there should always be some water available, and a stiff towel. Don't hang about getting the shivers. You have had your afternoon of pleasure, of exercise. You can then have that meal which you denied yourself at midday. There may be scars, bruises, minor strains or sprains which need attention, too. Give them that attention, never taking a chance that this or that hurt will right itself. It if is at all serious, get expert treatment at the earliest possible moment. There's another match next week. You want to be fit for that.

It is so easy, in the enthusiasm over the match which is actually being played, to overlook the fact that there are other games to follow: games in which your services will be required. In his own interests, as well as the interests of his side, the player who is so badly hurt that he is incapable of rendering real service is better off the field than on it.

The odds are that the player who has been hurt aggravates the injury by staying on the field. The limb which might have been all right in two or three days if it had been rested and given immediate attention, takes weeks to get better if the trouble is increased by staying on the field.

Arguments can be, and are piled up against the use of substitutes for players injured during a match. There is one argument in favor of permitting substitutes which out-weighs all those against. If substitutes for injured players were allowed the temptation for any player to stay there, hobbling about on the wing, would be reduced.

If the player feels all right at the end of the ninety minutes into which he has put everything, then he can indeed say that his training has served its purpose. That's the test. After playing a match at Portsmouth last season full-back Ferrier came out of the ground. A friend with a car offered him a lift. 'No thanks', said Ferrier, 'I don't live very far away and I always walk home after a match on our own ground'. There, as the saying goes, is where we came in.