GaaBoard official Junior B thread

[muppet]

[AZOffaly]

It's the little smiley head avatar that makes it. In fairness at least he replied. Most Junior B lads just wouldn't bother.

[Hardy]

Lovely.

[theticklemister]

I thought the funniest bit was when the time of game was down for 7 and he asked the players to turn up at 6.30 lol

[Under Lights]

Junior football the purest game left out there. No Sweepers. No one hour warm up. I know teams that have to be at the pitch two hours before throw in. FFS.

[muppet]

I was down west for a weekend long after my playing career had ended, sometime in the 1990s..

I went to the pub, ended up at a party and fell asleep on a couch. A mate picked me up and dropped me home. When I got out of his car I said 'thanks'. He said 'you are going nowhere, get your gear, we only have 14 players for the Junior B'.

90 minutes later I made my last appearance. I was taken off when someone showed up late.

But then there was an injury and I was on again. I had a row with the manager while walking all the way out to my corner forward position. I was arguing that our man wasn't injured at all, he was arguing that I should put out my cigarette.

Then I got one ball. I turned, inexplicably, onto my weak foot, and let fly. We were 3 points down, with a minute to play. I had visions of the ball rocketing past the keeper and thundering into the net. The reality was that I had hit the ball so tamely, that the keeper had to wait a while for it to travel the 5 yards to reach him, before bending down to pick it up. I blame the boots.

[5 Sams]

I'd imagine our version of Junior B would be reserve football. I could tell you some yarns. We were heading to a reserve game one Sunday morning with 14 players and spotted an erstwhile player walking along the street. We shouted to him to go and get his boots because we were stuck.  He ran and picked up a Dunnes bag from the back hall containing what he thought was his size 10 Mitres. Sat down with the rest of us to get changed, opened his bag and found a cabbage his ma bought for the dinner. We put him in goals with his cowboy boots on.

[muppet]

I'd imagine our version of Junior B would be reserve football. I could tell you some yarns. We were heading to a reserve game one Sunday morning with 14 players and spotted an erstwhile player walking along the street. We shouted to him to go and get his boots because we were stuck.  He ran and picked up a Dunnes bag from the back hall containing what he thought was his size 10 Mitres. Sat down with the rest of us to get changed, opened his bag and found a cabbage his ma bought for the dinner. We put him in goals with his cowboy boots on.

That sort of event gets you a nickname for life!

[HiMucker]

I thought the funniest bit was when the time of game was down for 7 and he asked the players to turn up at 6.30 lol

I think half an hour is fine.  We met up for senior games 45 mins before hand.  Any longer and boys be pissed off

[brokencrossbar1]

I manage a junior team.  I always say meet an hour beforehand knowing full well that the stragglers will be 45 minutes.  On the field for a 15 -20 minute run out and then in for the jersies.  I see some junior clubs running it like senior teams,  it's gotten far too serious.

I reckon I might make a wee return to Junior B football.  There's still life in this auld dog and ye never know!!  I sometimes thing that with 3 months good training I could still do a job at senior level,  I then take another sup of a pint and wise the f**k up!!!!

[theticklemister]

Played Junior B today. 4 of us on bench and after 10 minutes, a player had to come off after pulling a hammy. All us on the bench didn't want to go on. Eventually i went on, without sub slip of course, and came off at half-time absolutely wrecked. We eventually got bet by the mighty St.Pats Chester.

[Ball Hopper]

Played Junior B today. 4 of us on bench and after 10 minutes, a player had to come off after pulling a hammy. All us on the bench didn't want to go on. Eventually i went on, without sub slip of course, and came off at half-time absolutely wrecked. We eventually got bet by the mighty St.Pats Chester.

Sorry...but Jumior B players don't do hammy injuries. As Micko said of the great John Egan..."he was never fit enough to pull a hamstring". 

[Jinxy]

I thought the funniest bit was when the time of game was down for 7 and he asked the players to turn up at 6.30 lol

I think half an hour is fine.  We met up for senior games 45 mins before hand.  Any longer and boys be pissed off

And half of them will drive off again if the other team are running late.
In fairness, you see things happen at junior B games that you wouldn't see in a circus.
It's far and away the best grade of football.
It's serious enough that good lads still want to play, but not serious enough to warrant any real training.
The last refuge of the natural footballer.

[thewobbler]

Spending a year or two as a reserve / junior b football manager is one of those must-do jobs for any genuine Gael.

One week you'll have 35 players, and one of your first jobs is to weed out players who don't really want to play, or at least will agree to sit this one out. After all, can there be anything more demoralising in the world than not getting a jersey when stripping out at a reserve match? The look on those players' faces takes the form of a really murky red which is found somewhere between embarrassment and outright hatred for you. Especially if they've shown how keen they are by doing a full warm-up, while some of the starters still haven't got changed, and it's three minutes to throw-on.

The next week a dozen will show up - including two lads who make it abundantly clear that they have no interest in playing - and even though not one f**ker will answer his phone, even five minutes before throw-in you know it's still 50:50 that three lads might yet get out of bed and show up. But either way you're in nets, so you tell the lads who are there to sort themselves into some sort of formation, hope one of them notices that there are water bottles and a tap and that they can do something useful by bringing them together, then go and hit a few kick-outs while trying to remember how the name of thon eejit who never turns up is spelled as Gaeilge.

The right referee is vital. Ideally he'll also be hungover, be 40 yards away from the action at all times, but be clued in enough to know that apart from them three lads over there, and those two down there -  who can go at it all they want - the rest of the players would prefer a non-contact game this morning, and frees are awarded accordingly. This sets the tone for the match, and players can apply the basic skills safe in the knowledge that they won't have an opponent cutting them in two. Everyone's happy.

The really savvy referee though will try to make it more entertaining for the five men in the crowd - each of whom said they were to old to strip out, though three of them actually only needed to be asked one more time - by judiciously awarding a penalty or two, just to see if everyone is awake, plus to create an opportunity to be called names, so he can dish out a yellow card or two. Keeps his fire burning too.

Penalties are always fun when there's no senior players on the field, and half a dozen players will put themselves forward before - in a scene straight out of the school yard - if the team psycho wants it, he gets it, and if he doesn't, he decides who does.

The actual result only matters if it's the first game of the season - big season ahead and all that - or if it's the last game or two of the season, and a win could mean getting through to a final, which ultimately means a guaranteed feed of pints... something which is worth investing an hour of blood, sweat and tears to secure.

When the final comes around, it's the only time in the year when you know who'll turn up. Except 37 players turn up including nine who promised they'd never play for you again after a previous embarrassment, and them fellas, plus those two lads who you've never seen before - "who's his da?" is a question pondered during the team selection process - will all expect some game time.  You know there's going to be a lot of lads unhappy, so you do the only sensible thing... you pick these strongest team available so that you'll definitely win, while making sure your closest mates get a game, so that the craic later on is unfettered by awkward discussion.

[Fear Bun Na Sceilpe]

Spending a year or two as a reserve / junior b football manager is one of those must-do jobs for any genuine Gael.

One week you'll have 35 players, and one of your first jobs is to weed out players who don't really want to play, or at least will agree to sit this one out. After all, can there be anything more demoralising in the world than not getting a jersey when stripping out at a reserve match? The look on those players' faces takes the form of a really murky red which is found somewhere between embarrassment and outright hatred for you. Especially if they've shown how keen they are by doing a full warm-up, while some of the starters still haven't got changed, and it's three minutes to throw-on.

The next week a dozen will show up - including two lads who make it abundantly clear that they have no interest in playing - and even though not one f**ker will answer his phone, even five minutes before throw-in you know it's still 50:50 that three lads might yet get out of bed and show up. But either way you're in nets, so you tell the lads who are there to sort themselves into some sort of formation, hope one of them notices that there are water bottles and a tap and that they can do something useful by bringing them together, then go and hit a few kick-outs while trying to remember how the name of thon eejit who never turns up is spelled as Gaeilge.

The right referee is vital. Ideally he'll also be hungover, be 40 yards away from the action at all times, but be clued in enough to know that apart from them three lads over there, and those two down there -  who can go at it all they want - the rest of the players would prefer a non-contact game this morning, and frees are awarded accordingly. This sets the tone for the match, and players can apply the basic skills safe in the knowledge that they won't have an opponent cutting them in two. Everyone's happy.

The really savvy referee though will try to make it more entertaining for the five men in the crowd - each of whom said they were to old to strip out, though three of them actually only needed to be asked one more time - by judiciously awarding a penalty or two, just to see if everyone is awake, plus to create an opportunity to be called names, so he can dish out a yellow card or two. Keeps his fire burning too.

Penalties are always fun when there's no senior players on the field, and half a dozen players will put themselves forward before - in a scene straight out of the school yard - if the team psycho wants it, he gets it, and if he doesn't, he decides who does.

The actual result only matters if it's the first game of the season - big season ahead and all that - or if it's the last game or two of the season, and a win could mean getting through to a final, which ultimately means a guaranteed feed of pints... something which is worth investing an hour of blood, sweat and tears to secure.

When the final comes around, it's the only time in the year when you know who'll turn up. Except 37 players turn up including nine who promised they'd never play for you again after a previous embarrassment, and them fellas, plus those two lads who you've never seen before - "who's his da?" is a question pondered during the team selection process - will all expect some game time.  You know there's going to be a lot of lads unhappy, so you do the only sensible thing... you pick these strongest team available so that you'll definitely win, while making sure your closest mates get a game, so that the craic later on is unfettered by awkward discussion.

Classic Stuff. The accuracy of this had me in stitches