By RobB-17, 14 August 2008

“Impress Mackie.”

Those were the last words of comfort I was offered before I set off for day one at Carleton University’s soccer camp.

Carleton had been picked after serious consideration ahead of other renowned and prestigious footballing universities, namely UBC & SFU in Vancouver, York and Western in Toronto, and even Queen’s in Kingston. Carleton was probably the only school I was considering solely for footballing purposes; they were the number one ranked team in both province and country, led by this Mackie fellow.

I saw him from the start: a large, slouched over figure speaking in a very distinct Glaswegian accent. There was no denying that I found myself in awe of this man. Rumours of his coaching techniques, his success, and his team circulated over the city. And like a fan seeing his idol for the first time, I was oddly star struck. This was the man I’d dreamed of playing under in the future.

And yet somehow we were, all twenty-odd of us, sitting on the floor of Carleton’s Field House cracking jokes about football lore and Glasgow’s famous rivalry – something many of my Canadian counterparts were clueless about. Joining Mackie in front of us were Rangers legend and ex-defender, Tom Forsyth, and Ravens Captain, Roberto. Little did I know that this quiet-natured figure was a two time OUA and CIS all-star. As far as Canadian university sporting awards go, that’s basically as good as it gets. That was captain marvellous, a rock in defence, a role model, and a natural leader. Chatting to the guys next to us was Jorge, another fifth year varsity player who happened to be Roberto’s brother. He was a hilarious addition to the coaching staff, which was completed by two other players who were breaking into their varsity squads at Carleton and ‘the other school’ (Queen’s).

Day One was sort of a “let’s see where you’re at” type of day. For me, it was a good indicator of many things: a) where was my fitness at after a month of no training, b) how was I doing alongside my fellow Canadians, and c) an opportunity to show Mackie that my name was worth remembering… or so I hoped.

I set about doing that. First up was a passing or running drill. “Burroughs!” I looked up. “Well done. That’s a great job.” And then he moved on. Later, we moved on to a small-sided game, which turned out to be the highlight of the camp. Some time during the game, a cameraman came around and started talking to Mackie and Tom. Thinking he was from the university, I paid little attention. That was until Mackie asked me to talk to him.

“Why did you come here?”
“To play football.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You’re going to be on TV.”
“I—what?”
“Oi! I got one for you!”

That’s when I met the cameraman from A Channel. It was pretty sweet. He asked me my name, school, hometown,and he kept me talking for a couple of minutes on the camp, on the university, and of course on football. And that was that. “Check the news at 6,” he said, and went on filming some other clips. Later that night, they showed a well-cut segment of the interview in the sports section – my 30 seconds of fame.

As the day progressed, we moved onto a full 11 vs 11 game. All of us were split up, and being a natural striker/winger who is probably going to be playing left back next season, I had no position to put myself in. So I told him I could play anywhere in the park, including midfield if the numbers were short – thinking of course that I would be put on the wing. “Burroughs.” I looked up. “Centre midfield.”

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And that was that. There was no arguing with the boss. I played quite well in that game, scoring a brace – the first a left-footed tap in from close range after a surging run down the left, and the other from just outside the box. Both of those were eventually upstaged by my free kick. Now that’s a story. It was a handball around the halfway line. Back home, one of our fullbacks usually takes the free kicks around that area. But Mackie wanted me. The task was simple… in theory: play a one-two with the guy nearest to me (which he managed to screw up a half dozen times), then ping the ball a good 60, 70 yards into the far corner. Not bad. Pinging a ball wasn’t the hardest thing I’d done, but still 70 yards was one hell of a long way to hit an accurate ball. I hit the first ball straight into the corner. The winger mustn’t have been expecting it because he didn’t go for it. Granted, it was a little overhit, but I reckoned it was a decent attempt. Even Mackie seemed to think so. “That’s a good ball, son.” So he brought the ball back and had us do it again. This time, I hit the sweet spot. I signalled at the winger, who started his run, then ping. “Shit, that’s a good ball. That’s a f**king good ball. Play on!” Mmhmm. Not bad for a day’s work.

That’s what it was like for the rest of the week – working different drills, tactics, and aspects of the game. Of course, the individual player was also refined and improved in the areas physical, technical, and psychological. Physical included the standard fitness tests that I was familiar with (beep test, sit-ups, press-ups, sit & reach, shuttle run, 40m sprints). Psychological included two nutrition sessions with the university’s nutritionist and several talks from Mackie and the other coaches about life in uni football, how to get into uni football, and what we should be doing to gear ourselves up for higher level football at uni or later in life. It wasn’t a bad experience. Actually, I’d say it was a bloody amazing time. Hopefully next year though, I’ll be one my way to a respected university with a football team worth mentioning. And if that team happens to be Carleton, then yes please, sign me up. After all, as Tom Forsyth said, the biggest question we have to ask ourselves as footballers is: “How high can we go?”