An intriguing game today, an experimental match limiting the amount of heading; first half, headers only allowed in the box, second half, no headers at all. On paper, a sensible choice of players, as a bunch of former (semi) pros – biggest names Craig Hignett and Gavin McCann – faced each other. Players of a sufficient standard (on a pitch of very good standard) keeping the ball on the floor. All in the name of charity Heads for Change, who’re campaigning for greater understanding of the link between heading a ball and the problem of dementia amongst ex-players.
What did I expect? I expected players of a standard dropping balls just outside the opposition’s box, knowing the centre half couldn’t head the ball away. The problem was, the players were too good / unfit. What we had was a 5 aside game with 11 players on either team, with the ball barely leaving the surface, no boundaries pushed. I can see a Sunday league team just banging the ball down the pitch, but it just didn’t happen. I counted 3 headers all the first half, 2 in the box. The other, a headed clearance after 3 minutes, raised a cheer as the centre half, Mark Tinkler (who I played against as a kid, and what a world of difference between me and a future Hartlepool United regular) had obviously forgotten the rules and put his head to it. Hignett, meantime, was the worst player on the pitch, given he can barely move these days. Still, he’ll remain an Oakwell great.
Of course, it was a friendly, nothing riding on it (despite the improvised penalty shootout to decide a winner – Hignett missing the crucial pen when the keeper stood up to his ‘Panenka’) so, in the end, it predictably left more questions than answers. A worthy experiment, but a lot more games are needed before a pattern emerges. And in the days of a lightweight football, is it even worth it? Is the link between heading and dementia only proven for players of yesteryear using medicine balls soaked through with rain?
Still, it was an excellent turnout, nearly 400 people enjoying an afternoon in the Sunday sunshine at the Brewery Field, home of Spennymoor Town. A couple of local urchins collared me on the way to the ground. ‘Ere, mister, are you going to the football?’ They were worried they wouldn’t be allowed in without an adult, so I did the decent thing and paid them in, a quid each. You have to reward cheeky scampery. It’s problies where it all started for the Alan Sugars and David Sullivans of this world….
The Damage:
£5 ent
= £5
The Tunes:
Intro (Pulp)
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