It is profoundly stupid to spend your evening scouting young footballers while allowing two perfectly good ones to leave because you have avoided reading your messages. It suggests a commitment to youth development which extends to almost every aspect of the process except keeping the youth. Welcome to the wonderful world of the ADHD-brain.
Luljeta Alka and Zenab Diallo were on the periphery of my squad. Neither was central to my immediate plans, but both had great potential. I wanted them around, because I could see the potential. I could imagine them becoming important players in one or two years time. Unfortunately, I missed the point where their youth contracts needed to become senior ones, and subsequently lost both on free transfers.
While I was looking for the next exciting prospect, two existing ones walked out the front door and became somebody else’s opportunity. I had turned a development project into a public service for other clubs.
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An unread message is tomorrow’s problem
The embarrassing part is that I recognised there was something to deal with. I saw a message concerning contracts and knew opening it would probably require attention, decisions and possibly a conversation with an agent. At this point, my ADHD kicked in. Reading it meant accepting responsibility, and I wasn’t in the mood for that. I wanted to unwind, look around, see if I could unearth a potential gem. I did not read it closely enough to understand the specific situation, because I didn’t want to pay attention. Scouting usually provides more of a dopamine hit than renewing a contract.
There were reports to inspect, attributes to compare and players whose potential I could assess without making any immediate commitment. It is fun to create options for yourself, expand on the shadow lists of players I could sign for certain positions or to fill certain roles. In a way, I was still managing the club, still doing something productive, and therefore able to reassure myself that the evening was proceeding quite satisfactorily.
In my head, an unread contract message contains both a completely manageable situation and an impending disaster. Opening it forces me to acknowledge which one I am dealing with. Until then, I can leave it somewhere between the two and inspect another midfielder, effectively creating Schrödinger’s Inbox. The physics are questionable, but the avoidance is well established.
Of course, the game has no interest in my quasi-philosophic interpretation of reality. Dates continued passing. Contract situations continued developing. My decision to compare a prospect from the WSL to one from the Swedish league did not constitute an extension for anybody already employed by the club.
Potential is easier than commitment
For me, scouting is particularly effective as a distraction because it feels like investment in the future. A promising player gives you possibilities: how you might develop them, where they might fit, what your squad might eventually become. You can explore all of that before spending anything or promising anything.
On top of that, there is the thrill of discovery. Open a scouting report and you might find a player everybody else has overlooked, someone whose attributes suggest considerably more than their asking price. You start imagining where they would fit, what they could become and how insufferable you will be when the signing works out. A contract message struggles to compete with that. There is very little romance in retaining somebody you already employ, even when doing so would save you the trouble of discovering their replacement. Apparently, my brain awards more points for finding talent than for remembering to keep it.
In contrast, a contract asks you to turn some of those possibilities into commitments, while completely ignoring the discovery aspect. You have to decide whether the player deserves a place in your plans, what you are willing to pay and whether your enthusiasm survives contact with an actual obligation. Even when the decision turns out to be straightforward, opening the message means starting that process.
My ADHD brain can find a remarkable amount of energy for the first activity while struggling to begin the second. I can care about keeping a player and still direct my attention towards something more immediately rewarding. “I will look at that in a minute” feels entirely reasonable at the time, particularly when I have found something else which also counts as work.
The minute then expands to accommodate several scouting reports and a player comparison whose relevance becomes increasingly difficult to defend. I am describing my own habits here. The frustrating part is the gap between caring and acting. I wanted to keep Alka and Diallo. That intention was sincere. It was also of absolutely no use to either player while it remained inside my head.
Excellent news for somebody else
What annoys me most is that I would have been delighted to find Alka or Diallo available on a free transfer at another club. Two young players with great potential, obtainable for nothing because somebody had failed to sort out their contracts? Excellent recruitment. Exactly the sort of opportunity I spend my evenings looking for.
Being the idiot who supplies that opportunity is considerably less satisfying. There is nobody particularly useful to blame, either. I cannot deliver a convincing rant about predatory agents or clubs poaching my youngsters when my contribution to negotiations was to avoid finding out whether negotiations were required. I wanted to keep them. I left the relevant messages alone. Those two positions proved rather difficult to reconcile.
So yeah, I turned what happened into a bit of self-flaggelation, in the hopes that it will make me more attentive next time (hardly likely, but one can try, no?). At least I know where to look for replacements. I have been doing the scouting for weeks. Apparently, I was preparing for my own incompetence.
Guido is the founding father of Strikerless and main nutjob running the show.
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