As long term readers will be aware my general sporting skills leave a lot to be desired. Football in particular has been an area where I have demonstrated incompetence of an almost international standard.

Coerver Soccer Coaching has been developing skills in young players throughout the world for over 20 years. As I obviously needed a few pointers I turned to Coerver Coach Neil Goodger who told me that the program is based around the premise that any system of team play is only as good as the players involved. To that end players are taught a variety of exercises that develop their individual skills as part of what is called “A Pyramid Of Player Development”
The pyramid is made up of different sections and as I am about to go on a family camping trip I decide to work my way through them all while I am away and return home a better footballer. I am spending three days in a tent in Norfolk so perhaps I am being a little over-ambitious.

 Section 1. Ball Mastery and with the tent set up I encourage my fellow campers to run with a ball in a controlled way using the inside and outside of the same foot. All is going well until a small boy shouts “I’ve found a frog” and the session breaks up in disarray.

Section 2. Receiving and passing. Myself and another dad form a grid using our respective children. We sternly advise them about the importance of control and accuracy before simultaneously slipping over in the mud because we are both wearing sandals.

Section 3. 1vs1 Attack and Defence. I practice some solo exercises designed to fool my opponent into thinking I am going one way when in fact I am going another. I perform these exercises in the middle of a torrential downpour to the accompaniment of thunder and lightening. My cries of “Come on its only a bit of rain” go unheeded. My girlfriend looks on, unimpressed.

Section 4. Speed. On a glorious stretch of beach I perform a 25-yard sprint with the ball. A stiff sea breeze unfortunately takes it much further than that and I run an exhausting half-mile before an elderly gentleman out walking his dog intercepts it, as I lie wheezing on the sand.

Section 5. Finishing. Light is failing as a small team practice imaginative play and shooting for goal. A lad called Josh scores a blinder but it hits the door of one of the mobile toilets at the edge of camp. As I go to retrieve it the door swings open to reveal one very embarrassed lady. For some reason I adopt a completely different regional accent as I sheepishly mumble, “I’m most terribly sorry.” I don’t expect this happens at premiership level.

Section 6. Group Play. On the play park opposite the camp bar I shoehorn my way into a teenage kick about and take on the role of an “All Time Attacker” This proves to be an unwise tactic and I am told to “Get Lost” by entire families.

Sat at home, the benefits of the Coerver Coaching method are obvious, it is recommended by all the major footballing bodies and for young people in the 6-14 age group it proves an invaluable asset in improving their game.Open courses for autumn  begin on September 12^th at Gaisnsborough Sports Centre.

A team is indeed only as good as its individual players; the lesson learned from this weekend seems to be that if you want any chance of winning make sure that I am never in yours.

  It’s Thursday, it’s the Northgate Arts Centre so it must be jazz dancing and I fully expect to be learning a few Charleston steps from the roaring 20s. As I hear disco classic “Jump To The Beat” by Stacy Lattisaw booming out of the studio however, I think again and furtively slip my spats back into my sports bag before stepping inside.
I am the only man in a class full of women, I have never danced like this in my life and it’s all being filmed for a promotional video so there is no pressure -obviously.

 Dance East promote events across the region and aim to encourage more people to get involved in all styles of dance either as an audience member or a participant. The enthusiasm of the class is infectious but as we begin the warm up exercises I suspect I am in over my head.
We start with some basic moves and stretches and at first I am fine. I fully believe I am Mr Supple as we raise our arms and “reach for the sky” it’s when we have to bend over that my view of the world changes dramatically. It’s not the fact that my bottom is pointing clumsily skyward in front of a room full of ladies but rather the slow, creaking effort it takes to get even half way down that convinces me that I should not sign up for A Chorus Line just yet.

 We begin to learn the steps of today’s routine; our instructor Wendy is wonderfully chatty and informal although with the class about to take an eight-week break she is determined to work us hard. We are taught the routine a step at a time, repeating each new addition until we are familiar with it. I am busy concentrating when I remember that there is a chap in the corner filming the whole thing. As the routine progresses my attempts to avoid the lens of his camera result in some ninja inspired steps of my own invention. 
Along the wall in front of me is a huge mirror and although I try my best not to look, my eyes are drawn to it and the terrifying reflection of my own performance that owes more to John Prescott than John Travolta. 

At one point, trying to master the increasing series of moves gets too much and I develop a form of dance overload, moving my arms and legs randomly like a deep sea fisherman fighting his way out of a miscast net. Simply clicking my fingers in unison with the rest of the class produces a warm glow of achievement. Gradually I start to get it, my classmates have been coming for anything between a year and two weeks and they all look really good, which is tribute to the level of teaching. The fact that I am turning in the right direction and ending up on the right foot in such a short amount of time is nothing short of a miracle.

 Because of the popularity of the class, space is tight so I have subtly positioned myself at the back, next to the open door. My enthusiasm gets the better of me however; as we begin “Stepping to the right two, three, four” I dance myself completely out of the room and into the adjoining corridor. This I feel is a good time for me to take a well-earned break.
I chat to Gabby Cox from Dance East as I watch the class dance up a storm out of the corner of my eye. She is encouraging about my performance and stresses the health benefits of dancing for everyone. Dance East itself is a registered charity that runs training classes and workshops for people of all abilities. They also work in hospitals, with the elderly and with people who have learning or physical disabilities and if you do not like going to the gym I can think of no better way to keep yourself fit.   

 As the class finishes they give each other a well deserved round of applause, I have had a great time and hurry off to try and persuade the video guy to edit me out of his footage. I never did learn The Charleston though, maybe next time.