Some things never change.
You can play hundreds of 5-a-side games in your lifetime, with different people in different places, but it doesn’t matter: you’ll always encounter the same irritating bastards wherever you go.
When you think about it, 5-a-side is a beautiful thing. It’s a way of keeping football in your schedule without having to commit to a team. It’s not a bad way of keeping the fitness levels up and it’s also a decent way of meeting new people.
By definition, it’s not as gruelling or intensely competitive as 11-a-side but it’s great craic. It also never fails to take your mind off the endless mundanities of everyday life.
Naturally, your competitive streak shines through and you end up wanting to kick the living shit out of whoever you’re playing. Sometimes you want to kick the living shit out of whoever you’re playing with too. And sometimes you’ll want to kick the living shit out of yourself. But mostly it’s someone else.
Here are the most annoying 5-a-side team mates everyone’s played with at some point.
Yer man that’s always late
“Lads, we’re on at 7-8. Usual pitch. Try to be five minutes early though cuz there’s someone on straight after us.”
We’ve all had that WhatsApp message. A lot of us have sent it, too, and the responses are always acquiescent. “No bother lad.”
6.59pm. There’s seven of you there. Another two lads burst through the gate, making it in the nick of time. “Right, we’ll start 5 on 4 for now.”
7.10pm. The last one finally arrives. “The traffic was crazy,” “my boss kept me on a bit later for fuck’s sake,” or “Jaysus lads, I thought we were on the front pitches down there.”
I’ll refer ye to the original message. Usual pitch. Ah well, he’s here now anyway. Rinse and repeat.
The one who suddenly can’t make it
Dropping out an hour before kick-off is unforgivable in most cases. There’s literally nothing worse.
The guy who runs and runs…and runs
5-a-side brings together an amusing assortment of fitness levels, but there’s always that one fitness freak. He might be a distance runner or one of them mad eejits, but look at him go, chasing the ball relentlessly.
Even when you’re getting a good thrashing, there he is, chasing down every lost cause, tracking every run. Fair play to him. A lot of the time they’re not even technically sound, but what they lack in finesse they more than make up for in energy and enthusiasm.
45 minutes in and you’re feeling the burn a little. You haven’t played in a few weeks or you’re just back from a week-long holiday spent lounging unashamedly on the beach or by the pool. Have another swig of Lucozade Sport. Aye, that’ll do it. You look up and there’s old iron lung himself, still steaming up and down the pitch. “Right, that’s it” you mumble to yourself. “No more smoking on the way to football.”
The big man who hits it from anywhere
Putting together a few fluid passing moves in always appealing. When you link-up with one or two of the lads it makes you feel useful. Especially when the move produces a goal. There’s always one who doesn’t give a shit about that, though, he just gets the ball and bloody hits the thing.
In fairness, if you’re inside the opponents’ half in 5-a-side, there’s often a decent shooting opportunity on the go. But that trigger-happy fecker doesn’t care where it goes, he just loves giving it a good wallop. A lot of the time, they’re a slightly larger gentleman who doesn’t fancy the run.
It’s fairly frustrating, of course, given that nine times out of ten it’ll just gift the other team the ball.
One goal down and just a few seconds left. He picks up the ball and, just as he’s about to unleash another wildly inaccurate thunderbastard, you can’t help but shout “NO!” He’s been blasting them over all night. There are two lads free up there. Just keep it simple.
Then bang. He hits it and it flies in. Brilliant stuff. If at first, you don’t succeed, try, try, try, and try again. Even if you’re mates want to throttle ye.
The one who always shies away from doing nets
Nobody likes doing nets. Unless you’re knackered and need a breather, jumping in nets is a dreaded prospect in 5-a-side. Then again, the goals fly in at such a rate that you’re back out again in no time. But there’s always someone among you who hangs his head and jogs away discreetly, avoiding the unavoidable. He’s going to end up doing them at some point anyway, but having to remind him is a pain in the arse.
You can’t really get away with it in 5-a-side. On a bigger pitch, like playing Inter7s, it’s a bit easier. Still not honourable though.
Inevitably, the guy who’s been defying goalkeeping duties ends up losing the ball, resulting in the other side scoring. He offers an apologetic wave as he trudges back. It won’t change him, though. Actually, he just happens to be really shit at nets, which gets him out in no time. How convenient.
The lad who never brings change
“Ah shite, I’ve only got a 20 quid note on me here boys.”
We don’t really need to say much more – they’re always a bloody nightmare.
That older guy who’s freakishly good
You’re playing with a new bunch. You roll up to the pitch and you see the usual assemblage of decent 5-a-side veterans, GAA-honed units and a few older lads who’re keeping themselves fit. Fair play to them, you think, but surely they’ll not be much hassle.
Yer man’s gotta be near 50. He’s got a fair bit of timber on him and what hair he has left is thinning and grey. But here, hang on a second, how is he taking the ball past me? Experience often trumps the exuberance of youth. This guy’s been playing in these cages for like 30 years. He may not be the flying winger he was in the 80s but he can still make a fool of you.
He’s not quick or strong, but he has an assured first touch, knows what passes to play and when to play them. A lot of the time he sits back but he knows when to venture forward and drift into space. Freakishly effective. I wish I’m that good when I’m his age.
The guy who always tries a nutmeg
Ah, the nutmeg. Elasticos are too difficult to pull off and you usually end up on your arse if you try a rabona, but you can’t beat a good nutmeg. It’s a bona fide expression of superiority. A humiliating putdown of the highest order. When it comes off, it’s a brilliant feeling but there’s always one who takes the piss.
He’ll try it every time he gets the ball. It doesn’t matter if he’s in their box or yours, he always tries it. Most of the time it doesn’t work because the defender has him figured out.
At least you know to track back a few yards as soon as he gets the ball because you know he’s going to lose it. But it still grinds your gears.
