It was a hazy February
Sunday morning in 2013. Bitterly cold, rain in the air; the kind of weather
making you want to stay in bed for one more hour. Not for 40 or so men in
Colchester. Known as the Gladiators, these men were getting ready for the first
training session of the year in their quest to become British American
football’s best team.
And I was joining them for
the first time.
Now do not get me wrong, I
am hardly what you would call athletic. Writing this a year on, and sure I am
in fairly good shape, more so now. Then though, I was weighing at my
heaviest and had not played a competitive sport for roughly two years. So you
can understand that I had reservations about quite what I was letting myself in
for.
Quickly, I learnt the ropes
about what was expected of me and the training that it would involve. This
would be training twice a week with the Gladiators on top of regular exercise
and weight training on my own in the gym. I inwardly groaned at the prospect of
no longer eating and drinking quite what I wanted, and not being able to laze
around all day. However, I had challenged myself to succeed, so I became
determined to do my utmost to be in the best shape possible to help contribute
to the team.
After the couple weeks of
learning the fundamentals of the game, I was assigned a position: linebacker.
As a quick summary of my role, it basically involves running head first into
the opposition, preferably the guy with the ball. While trying to do that, you had to be aware of their guys trying to take you out too. The first thing I noticed was just how small
the rest of my “unit” made me look. “More gym time needed” was the mental note
I made. This was brought to my attention fairly swiftly, spending the rest of
the training session gingerly picking myself up off the floor every minute. As
a guy that was used to rugby, it still surprised me just how physical the game
was.
As the pre-season went on, I
quickly bonded with the team, garnering myself nicknames based on my surname
(particular favourites being: VenDiesel and VenDiagram), and also earning
myself the hashtag: #DoingAVenables, for reasons that I will not divulge in a
public domain. The team became almost like a second family, spending my
weekends with them training and then having dinner or working out.
I finally got my first taste
of a competitive game that pre-season, as I was sent on for the second half
against Sussex Thunder. Sure enough, my rookie experience shone through, and I
assure there is very little more daunting than hearing “run at the rookie”
coming from the opposition line. The perfect response would be to stuff them on
the line on the next play. The reality was probably different, but in my mind,
ending up in a pile on the next tackle was close enough.
You also quickly learn to
appreciate travelling. With trips to Maidstone, Milton Keynes and Southampton
amongst others, knowing how to travel became paramount. My method was to stock
up on pre-game nutrition (probably a Snickers, hardly scientific) and to listen
to music, adrenaline preventing me from getting any sleep. The same could not
be said for others, who somehow managed to get shut-eye for entire journeys, or
who chose to spend the entire trip discussing their previous week. After the
final away game of the year, we had a rookie showcase on the coach. The premise
was simple, each new rookie had to either - tell a joke, sing a song, or tell
an embarrassing story. Not feeling my comedy legs, and having the musical
talent of a teaspoon, I went embarrassing story. Judging by the guffawing
afterwards, apparently, my comedy legs were stronger than I thought. However,
my story was trumped somewhat by another story involving a student halls party
and unwanted bodily processes. I will let your imagination fill in the blanks.
This was all in the name of team bonding, of course.
The season itself went
incredibly well for the team. Unbeaten throughout the regular season, the
Gladiators made the playoffs, winning against Bristol Apache at home, and then
suffocating Solent Thrashers in a close match down in Southampton. With those
two victories, we were guaranteed promotion and a place in the National League
final. Unfortunately, my participation was cut short in these games after
sustaining a knee injury playing football weeks earlier. However with the
prospect of a final to still play, my attention turned to being fit for that.
The team travelled to Leeds
the day before the final, in October. Having to make your own way there and
staying at a Travelodge, it did not quite have the glamour of say the FA Cup
final. But to us, it was everything. It could be our crowning glory, our icing
on our football cake. Taking to the field for the game will be a feeling I
could never forget. So much had changed for me personally in that time; I
harked back to that first training session of the year in February. This time,
I felt like I belonged, part of something special. We had players used to
playing in finals before, the most surprising being a player by the name of Tim
Rowe, who had played in the last Gladiators final victory in 1988. Aside from
him, no-one else had ever won a title before, so we were desperate to cap off
our undefeated season with one final victory.
With this, we lined up
facing our fans (around 1000 people watched the final, with commentary from Sky
Sport’s Neil Reynolds and Gridiron TV), and belted out the national anthem. Now
it felt like an FA Cup final.
At half time, the scores
were tied. The opposition, the Gateshead Senators, were lucky to be within sight
of us. We were determined to go and score early and put the game to bed.
We did exactly that.
A 33-13 victory was
momentous. Much celebrating ensued, with medals and a trophy being presented to
us in the stand. The changing room afterwards was a sight to behold, drinks
flowing and shouting being heard all around the Midlands no doubt. One thought
remained with me though, even the day after on the way back: That was it for
the year. These guys who I had grown to know every week from February onward
suddenly would disappear for four months until the start of the next season. It
was actually a little bit sad. Again, reflecting on the year that had gone, I
bore the physical scars of the game, but mentally, letting go was tougher. I
was aware that I was going to be in London for the start of next season, unsure
of my place in the team and what my availability would be. Even in celebration,
there was time for doubt.
2014 has seen my role on the
team diminished due to commitments outside of football. That said, the team
that remained still laced up their cleats for that cold, damp February training
session. Fresh determination pierced the air, looking to solidify our place in
the Premier League; new objectives were laid out, new rookies to experience
what I felt during my first season. Not just for the love of American football,
but for your teammates, your brothers in arms, willing to lay everything on the
line to succeed. That is what sport is about, after all.
