team spirit noun: the camaraderie
and loyalty that members of a team
display towards each other
For the first time in years, I’ve got myself a team of good players. Great players. It didn’t happen overnight. It took effort. Blood. Sweat. Tears. That’s what I tell them before every match. Their sweat – and the opposition’s blood and tears.
I tell them there’s only one way to win at those Championships: ‘Great playing isn’t enough, you’ve got to play like you’re closer than family. You’ve got to know each other. Before that ball has even touched a boot you need to sense the direction it will take. How? Know the kid who kicked it, know his instincts like your own.’ Now that’s what soccer’s all about.
What makes a team the best? They can play with their eyes shut and still win the match.
Have I got a team like that? Not even close.
Why am I taking them to the Championships? Because they had it once. They can get it again.
What’s soccer all about? It’s about knowing your place. Defenders block. Midfielders pass and defend. Strikers score. No surprises. No mistakes. No one playing for himself. And that means no kicks from the side, Faltrain, when you’re too far out and you can cross to someone closer. The forwards are our best chance of clocking up those goals. I’m our best chance of scoring those goals.
Second best chance.
Soccer’s won by more than just kicking goals, you know.
Lucky for you, eh, Corelli?
The game’s won when I get on that field.
The game’s won when I say it’s won. NOW GET BACK OUT THERE AND GIVE ME TWENTY PUSH-UPS OR WE’RE ALL SLEEPING ON THAT FIELD TONIGHT.
Some people say it’s all about kicking goals, but they’re wrong. You can’t win on all attack or all defence. I still remember what Mum said to me after one of my first matches: ‘Marty, watch any of the great teams, and you’ll see, they’re arms and legs on the same body. They share a heart. If you’ve got separate hearts, Marty, you may as well give up before the match even starts.’