Random thought for the week: is football scouting a dying art?

In the past you would often hear stories about how one young superstar or another was discovered plying his trade in the amateur leagues or on random five-a-side pitches hidden away in the back corners of parks.

Invariably that would conjure up images of an old-fashioned, chain-smoking scout standing on the touchline in the pouring rain scribbling down notes about the delicate touch of the sparkling lad in the mud-caked kit.

It probably hasn’t been like that for a while, but it’s hard not to think of it that way. It’s strangely romantic.

However, I got to wondering if any of that happens anymore because, frankly, I can’t remember the last time I heard of one of these miraculous player discoveries.

Maybe a combination of social media, the ability to promote yourself digitally, and greedy agents looking to snap up all the talent has made this type of raw scouting a bit redundant. Who knows?

But what brought this up, I hear you cry?

Well, I was reading an article about Seamus Coleman a week or so ago. And the veteran Everton defender is definitely a fine example of grassroots scouting.

The scout was there actually watching his own son play

He was ‘discovered’ by accident while playing for Slivo Rovers in 2008 when the scout in question was there actually watching his own son play. A few months later, Coleman signed for the Premier League club for a fee of just £60,000, which is probably less than Everton’s top earner at the time was getting every week.

Not much of a financial gamble. But, oh my days, how it paid off!

Coleman, now 34, is still playing in the Toffees’ first team and has gone on to make 422 appearances over the last 15 years.

And that works out at just £142 a game.

As I said before, I can’t remember the last time I heard a story like Seamus’ which makes me genuinely wonder if we ever will again.

I suspect when a young player shows anything like Coleman’s level of ability in this day and age, mobile phone footage is blasted off to every agent in the land within seconds of the first crunching tackle or mazy dribble.

Scouts will always have a role to play, of course, like when it comes to watching these lads in the flesh to find out if they live up to the video hype, and then reporting back to a club’s recruitment team.

But the age of scouts winning the football lottery by unearthing the next Coleman entirely by chance are probably behind us.

Somehow that’s strangely sad.

 

Come on boys, grab the fishcakes

I’m starting to love Scandinavian football.

First Sweden vote not to introduce VAR in their top league and now Norwegian fans are passionately protesting against the hated (*) video system to try and get it changed or binned entirely.

Not only that, but they have found a rather unique, and slightly smelly, way of showing their displeasure – by throwing fishcakes on to the pitch.

The recent match between Rosenborg and Lillestrom had to be stopped three times in the first half-hour when fans spent two minutes bombarding the pitch with the fishy favourites. They followed that up a short while later with a bombardment of tennis balls, before wrapping up their protests by throwing smoke bombs on to the pitch, each time forcing the referee to take the players off the pitch.

I’m really not sure if the fishcakes are symbolic of something deeper, or maybe they were just bought at the stadium as it’s got to be easier to buy your projectiles on site rather than carry them from home.

But whatever the reason, hats off to the Norwegians for making their displeasure with VAR known in such emphatic fashion.

One day we will look back fondly on the monumental fishcake protests of 2024 as the beginning of the end for VAR. Or maybe not.

* Maybe not globally hated, but certainly by me. In my opinion, if you like VAR you don’t really like football. Which is why I am proud to say I bloody detest it.

 

Get yourselves a little hurling

In the sporting void between the end of Euro 24 and the start of the Olympics, and thanks to a TV remote control fumble, I found myself watching a game of hurling.

I’ll be honest: other than the fact it is massive in Ireland, involves mini hockey sticks and strange hybrid football/rugby goalposts, I didn’t know much about it as a sport.

And, frankly speaking, having watched a good three quarters of a game, I am still not very much the wiser.

Yes, I figured out that you get one point for hitting the ball (is it even a ball?) through the rugby part of the post and three points for getting it in the net where a rather brave goalkeeper lurks. But other than that, much of its inner workings remain a mystery.

I tell you what, though, even in my slightly confused state it was damned exciting. I don’t think I have seen any other team sport played at that sort of pace. It really is relentless, end-to-end stuff.

Will I be watching more? Probably not, as I really don’t need another sport in a life that already has too many sport-watching commitments.

But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t recommend that you all at least take a look at some hurling highlight on YouTube or something.

It really is a proper, proper sport that deserves a wider audience.

 

E-mail: James.calvert@timesofmalta.com

Twitter: @maltablade