The dark side of Academy Football

I cried more when I played for QPR than when I got released

Every little boy’s dream is to grace the green grass of the premier league, and

for a short period of time I was living and breathing that dream.

Back In 2012, when Gotye wasn’t just somebody that we used to know. I’d signed a two-year contract with Queens park Rangers an academy set-up looking to develop England’s future stars. I was living in ecstasy, but also hungrier than ever to be a QPR success story. Project Bellman was in motion.

However little did I know, signing that gold-plated contract essentially meant offering my childlike innocence in return for a small taste of the professional world.

And to my greatest surprise the professional world tasted like shit.

To put academy life into a slightly cynical but realistic perspective, you are an asset, moulded and finetuned in a football factory with the hopes of one day earning a return for the club’s investment in you.

The morality of man is stripped, it’s a dog eat dog world where the 10 other players fielded on the pitch aren’t your teammates, they are obstacles gunning for Harry Redknapp’s golden ticket. They will run you over by any means necessary to reduce competition.

The boys in an academy aren’t really boys at all, they are just a number on a team sheet. It’s a relentless business, with such a small percentage of success.

0.5 % of children who enter academies at nine years old will ever make a professional appearance, with over 75% being jettisoned between the ages of thirteen to sixteen.

Even those awarded a scholarship at sixteen (a precursor to professional status), 98% will not be playing in the top 5 tiers two years later.

This highlights the ruthless culture of professional football, leaving many players with little to no formal education (discussed further down), all sacrificed to pursue this fantasy.

QPR often reminded us We were the ‘future’

but being the future meant dealing with bullying from coaches, anti-Semitic comments from players, and an atmosphere of stress.

At 13, QPR started removing me from school to conduct in additional training, in what is known as day release. Whilst not entirely demanded, it was implicitly implied failure to conform will negatively impact on professional goals. This rhetoric is permeable to a young mind, creating the narrative football is more important than education. Up to 30 hours of formal education was lost each month, further enhancing the idea that professional goals require a complete devotion, neglecting anything else.

This was reinforced, when I missed a matchday to run in the Virgin London Mini marathon, in honour of cancer research.

I was scapegoated and ostracised from the following two match days.

Allegedly, I ‘was not taking football seriously enough.’

Was this a life lesson?

I wasn’t sure.

All I knew, I closed off any interests outside of football and this meant sacrificing everything for this one unattainable goal.

I missed out on a lot of the freedom and life experiences that young teenagers have.

My life was football, but it wasn’t making me happy. I minimised my social hours, and lost touch with things that mattered like my education and family life.

I often felt out of place and anxious in social situations. All I knew was football, I forgot what it meant to have fun and let myself go, I felt this undeniable pressure to make it to the top.

A pressure that stole my innocence.

I was a young teen and yet had the stress levels of a 40-year-old man, working 7-9 to support his family.

Three years and thousands of footballing hours later I was released, not in a face to face meeting, or a phone call, but in an email.

An email that thanked me for my services, but without any clear indication as to why I was dropped. The email wasn’t personal, it was the same dialogue directed to all players released.

There was no additional help or ways to get back on the footballing ladder, it was a short email that cut me off overnight.

It is evident that a cultural change is needed. As things stands, academies represent a turning point, football transforms from a hobby to an obsession, that demands sacrifices and exposing children to an almost inevitable rejection.

Academies should look to put psychological measures in place to look after the players that get signed at such a pivotal time in their maturity and personal development.