When my youngest son Charlie was seven he was talent-spotted by a QPR scout who saw him playing football in the park and invited to try out for the junior academy. I struggled to take this seriously – he still couldn’t ride a bicycle – but duly turned up at a ‘sports academy’ in Willesden, a secondary school, where the trials were held. To my astonishment, a QPR coach told me Charlie had potential and offered to enrol him in a programme that involved spending two hours every Wednesday evening at this school. This wasn’t the junior academy, but a level below. Charlie was keen and after talking it over with Caroline we decided to give it a whirl.
Some of the kids couldn’t cope and would burst into tears – driving their fathers round the bend
Within a few weeks of him starting, I began to get cold feet. This school in Willesden wasn’t easy to get to on public transport and was an hour’s drive from our house in Acton.
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