Craig Bellamy - GoodFella Read Online Free
Author: Craig Bellamy
Tags: Football, Wales, Soccer, Norwich City FC, Cardiff City FC, Newcastle United FC, Liverpool FC
they’re attached to clubs, I think they’re comfortable in their own zone. Football takes such good care of you now at every age group that some of the hunger’s gone.
I wanted to be the best against everyone. Mainly, when we were kicking about, we used to play something we called FA Cup Doubles or Singles. I’d be distraught if I didn’t win it. If we had an eight v eight game, I had to win that eight v eight. That was when I got the most pure enjoyment out of football, better than any time I’ve been playing as a professional.
There are a lot of kids I haven’t spoken to since then whose names I still know off by heart. I hope they’ve gained some satisfaction from what I have been able to achieve because I certainly appreciated what they gave me. Even some kids who might not have thought they were any good, I learned something from them just by the fact they were enthusiastic enough to come out and play every day. Playing against them every day improved me as a player.
There was one kid I remember in particular. His name was Andrew Evans. He was four or five years older than me and when I was eight or nine years old, I thought he was a kind of football god. We used to play in informal matches on Tesco’s Fields, which was an expanse of pitches a couple of miles from my house, and Evvo played in this brilliant blue Everton strip with white shorts. He had tricks. He could do body swerves, he had everything. Whenever I tried to tackle him, I couldn’t get anywhere near him.
He could have been somebody. He really could. There are kids like him in a lot of communities, kids that have got a raw talent that makes them stand out when they are young. But, like a lot of those players, Evvo just didn’t have the commitment you needed to make it. He was such a good player but he was totally relaxed about it. Too relaxed.
A lot of people tried their hardest with him. One of the coaches used to go round to his house just to get him to matches and now and then Evvo would say he didn’t fancy it. He’d say he was staying in bed. One day, when I was 11 and he was 15 or 16 and still in school, he told me he was going to be a dad. I asked him whether he wanted a boy or a girl but most of all I wondered how the kid was going to grow up and how Evvo was going to provide for it.
It hit me a bit, that. He was still a hero of mine and he was a hero round the area because he was such a good footballer. He went to play men’s football when he was 15 or 16 and he was scoring five or six every game. But he was never going to go anywhere because he didn’t want to. He was never going to push himself through it. Seeing the way he drifted out of the game helped me because I knew what I had to do.
It made me realise that it wasn’t enough just to be supremely gifted. It made me realise, even as a kid growing up on an estate, surrounded by normal kids who just wanted to have a laugh, that I was going to have to live a different kind of life if I was going to have any chance of making it. I was going to have to be separate. There would be loneliness and I realised that, too, but I wanted to be a footballer so badly that it didn’t deter me.
Evvo drifted into doing what most boys drift into. He had the ability to be special but only I know his name now. The only time he has ever been mentioned in the newspapers is when I have mentioned his name in an interview.
I find that sad, really, because people should have known his name, all around the world. He had the talent but he did not have the strength. Every area in every city in Britain has got people like that.
2
Choices
I began to live a kind of double life. I was football mad, devoted to it, determined to succeed. And then there was my life on the estate, trying to fit in, trying to be a normal kid, trying to be part of the gang. Suddenly I was at Rumney High School and there were kids from St Mellons, Rumney, Harris Avenue and Llanrumney and it was a melting pot. I wanted to
I wanted to be the best against everyone. Mainly, when we were kicking about, we used to play something we called FA Cup Doubles or Singles. I’d be distraught if I didn’t win it. If we had an eight v eight game, I had to win that eight v eight. That was when I got the most pure enjoyment out of football, better than any time I’ve been playing as a professional.
There are a lot of kids I haven’t spoken to since then whose names I still know off by heart. I hope they’ve gained some satisfaction from what I have been able to achieve because I certainly appreciated what they gave me. Even some kids who might not have thought they were any good, I learned something from them just by the fact they were enthusiastic enough to come out and play every day. Playing against them every day improved me as a player.
There was one kid I remember in particular. His name was Andrew Evans. He was four or five years older than me and when I was eight or nine years old, I thought he was a kind of football god. We used to play in informal matches on Tesco’s Fields, which was an expanse of pitches a couple of miles from my house, and Evvo played in this brilliant blue Everton strip with white shorts. He had tricks. He could do body swerves, he had everything. Whenever I tried to tackle him, I couldn’t get anywhere near him.
He could have been somebody. He really could. There are kids like him in a lot of communities, kids that have got a raw talent that makes them stand out when they are young. But, like a lot of those players, Evvo just didn’t have the commitment you needed to make it. He was such a good player but he was totally relaxed about it. Too relaxed.
A lot of people tried their hardest with him. One of the coaches used to go round to his house just to get him to matches and now and then Evvo would say he didn’t fancy it. He’d say he was staying in bed. One day, when I was 11 and he was 15 or 16 and still in school, he told me he was going to be a dad. I asked him whether he wanted a boy or a girl but most of all I wondered how the kid was going to grow up and how Evvo was going to provide for it.
It hit me a bit, that. He was still a hero of mine and he was a hero round the area because he was such a good footballer. He went to play men’s football when he was 15 or 16 and he was scoring five or six every game. But he was never going to go anywhere because he didn’t want to. He was never going to push himself through it. Seeing the way he drifted out of the game helped me because I knew what I had to do.
It made me realise that it wasn’t enough just to be supremely gifted. It made me realise, even as a kid growing up on an estate, surrounded by normal kids who just wanted to have a laugh, that I was going to have to live a different kind of life if I was going to have any chance of making it. I was going to have to be separate. There would be loneliness and I realised that, too, but I wanted to be a footballer so badly that it didn’t deter me.
Evvo drifted into doing what most boys drift into. He had the ability to be special but only I know his name now. The only time he has ever been mentioned in the newspapers is when I have mentioned his name in an interview.
I find that sad, really, because people should have known his name, all around the world. He had the talent but he did not have the strength. Every area in every city in Britain has got people like that.
2
Choices
I began to live a kind of double life. I was football mad, devoted to it, determined to succeed. And then there was my life on the estate, trying to fit in, trying to be a normal kid, trying to be part of the gang. Suddenly I was at Rumney High School and there were kids from St Mellons, Rumney, Harris Avenue and Llanrumney and it was a melting pot. I wanted to
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