This is my story about, what I consider to be the miracle at Lynghallen.
In July 2016, three young guys came walking towards me for Open Air in Varde. I barely knew them. It had been six years since I’d seen them last.
They were no longer 13 and were playing around after a ball at Sig Stadium. Now they were at the end of the teenage period, on par with myself and with a hand-warm castle beer in hand.
I had been a volunteer football coach for them back in 2010. In many ways not my proudest moment. We finished last in our C2 sevens pool for U14 boys. I actually think it was the lowest number that existed.
I was therefore not surprised if they had come to throw a beer in my head, thank you for ruining their football careers. It might even have been deserved.
But that didn’t turn out to be why they came walking towards me.
High ambitions
I can clearly remember when I started as football coach in Sig/Thorstrup IF in the autumn of 2010.
That was right until, during the first training session, I threw my eyes at my new player material.
The training exercises I had planned beforehand did not unfold as they had done in my head the night before. In the boys’ defence, my expectations were probably a little higher than what can be met at their age and level.
But what they didn’t yet have in football skills, they had, after all, in the clergy and the courage. This gave me hope and the ambitions remained high until the first game of the season against Skovlund/Ansager.
There were eight teams in the pool, and this was the first of a total of seven games. We had to go out there and get the three points.
Scout visiting
Looking out on the sidelines, you would have thought my team were favourites to win the series.
There I stood, with my long coat and the scarf outside, and energetically directed my players like a young José Mourinho. But inside the pitch it wasn’t Lukaku, Rashford and Pogba who were running around. It was Sig/Thorstrup’s U14 boys who impressively made the seven-man pitch look really big.
We lost 4-2. My first defeat as a coach. But not my last. Far from my last.
We had one point in the first four games of the season. Something new was to happen in the next game against Alslev.
My mate Jeppe had come to watch and suddenly took a cunning Mourinho-level form: we made the boys think that Jeppe was a scout from EfB, looking for new players for the squad.
It was a transformed crew that went out to the game this Wednesday night in September. Never before had I seen my boys fight so much and work so hard. It felt like they were going to be their big chance to be scouted for a Superliga club.
We lost the game 8-3.
Now there were only two games left before the season was over. Still with the first win for good.
Last chance
We also lost the next match, so I
could feel the seat burning under me in the car on the way to the last game of the season (so it’s a smart feature, I have to give mazda).
We faced a difficult away game against Grindsted, the number three of the group. It was a cold autumn evening at Lynghallen. The dust rain whipped down.
I can’t remember if I’d put in a new tactic for the fight or if I was giving a motivational speech that knocked my legs out under the boys. I doubt, because I think we were all pretty sure that we would be out and suffer another defeat shortly.
Fortunately the last one for the season.
But it was like something was different. The boys not only fought hard, they also played well. Actually, really good. Nevertheless, I remember that we fell behind. Several times. Until the post 3-3 with few minutes left of the match.
I have to acknowledge that I do not remember how the last goal was scored. My memories revolve around the jubilant scenes that played out in the seconds after we score at 4-3, and the referee soon after blows the whistle for the last time.
We finished last in the table but the boys celebrated their first victory as if they had won the World Cup. They ran euphoric around the track, slipped off the wet grass on their little stomachs and hugged each other with pure happiness.
I remember also erupting into a real roar of cheers, raising the hand of the other coach and otherwise enjoying the sight of the boys triumphing in the pouring rain.
Good memories
When I saw the three guys coming towards me six years later for Varde Open Air, the memory of our last match resurfaced. So did the memory of the time we ended up as the bottom line in my first season as football coach.
So I was preparing for anything, with the three young guys stopping in front of me.
With a big smile on my lips, they greeted me. They just wanted to tell you that they really liked having me as a coach. And at that moment, I realized that I had actually enjoyed being a coach for them as well.
While we can’t remember a glorious season in which we smashed our opponents at Lynghallen and won the C2 series superiorly, we have some memories together that are far more significant.
We have memories of a good community and of fun episodes for both workouts and matches. And then we were reminded of the time at Lynghallen, where we finished last in the pool, but were too busy celebrating our first victory to worry about it.
Do you also have some great memories, as the miracle at Lynghallen, as a volunteer coach or manager that you would like to share? Then send them to us on [email protected] 🙂