1v1s 1/7: Soccer Is 1v1's With Help

A few years ago, Mark Savvides said something on the Heads and Volleys Podcast that I haven't stopped thinking about. He said: "Soccer is 1v1's with help."

Simple. But it changes everything about how you think about the game.

Go watch your next match — youth, college, professional, doesn't matter — and stop watching the ball. Watch the players around it. Watch what they're doing with their bodies. Watch who's getting beaten, who's creating space, who's covering, who's holding their position. What you'll see, if you really look, is that every single moment in a game comes down to one player facing another. The 1v1 is everywhere.

The player on the ball is in a 1v1. The players off the ball are in 1v1's too — fighting for space, tracking runs, winning position, trying to get free. It's happening all at once, all over the field, from kickoff to the final whistle.

So why do we spend so much practice time doing things that don't look anything like that?

I wrote this book because I became obsessed with that question. Not in a "tear everything down" way — I'm not here to bash coaches. Most of the coaches I've met care deeply about their players and work incredibly hard. But a lot of us were taught to coach the way we were coached. Laps and drills and "okay, now a game at the end." And somewhere in that process, the actual game got buried.

The 1v1 — the most fundamental unit of the game — got reduced to a warm-up activity. Something you do for five minutes before the "real" training starts.

I want to flip that.

This series is based on my book 1v1's Outside the Box, and what I'm going to share with you across these posts is how I think about developing players through the lens of the 1v1. Not just isolated drills — though those have a place — but what happens when you take that idea and expand it. Into small-sided games. Into your game model. Into the way you plan a session and communicate with your players.

Because here's the thing: when your #4 is receiving the ball with a striker pressing from behind and two midfielders closing — that's a 1v1. When your #11 is cutting inside off the wing against a fullback — that's a 1v1. When your #9 is holding up a ball with a centerback on their back and three teammates trying to find angles — that's a 1v1 too, just with help available.

Training the 1v1, in all its forms, is training the game.

So that's what this series is about. We're going to go through it piece by piece — clarity, expectations, planning, isolated 1v1 training, small-sided games, and what I want you to walk away with at the end. Each one builds on the last.

But it all starts with this: every time you watch a game, stop watching the ball. Start watching the 1v1's. You'll never look at soccer the same way again.

And when you start seeing those moments everywhere? You'll want to train them that way too.

Let's go.

Buy the book here

The Common Language Methodology: The Game is Already in Your Practice

Here's something that might trip you up if you're new to this.

If you search for a "SCAN practice" or a "SUPPORT drill" online — you won't find much that makes sense. And that's not a gap in the internet. That's because SCAN, SHAPE, SUPPORT, BUILD, and BREAK aren't drill categories. They're not topics to put on a session plan. They're not skills you can isolate and rehearse in a cone grid.

They're moments in the game. And the game is already in your practice.

That's the whole point.

Take a 3v3. It's the simplest exercise in soccer. Three players against three. A ball. Two small goals. Ten minutes.

Inside that 3v3, every single one of the five words exists.

The player receiving the ball needs to SCAN — they need to know where their teammates are and where the pressure is coming from before it arrives. When the team doesn't have the ball, all three players need to find their SHAPE relative to where the ball is, not just where they were standing. The two players off the ball need to SUPPORT the one who has it — creating options, offering angles, breaking lines. When the team can't go forward, they need to BUILD — keep it, move it, wait for something better to appear. And when the moment opens up, when a defender commits too early or an opponent is caught out of position — that's the BREAK moment.

You didn't need to coach SCAN. You didn't need to coach SHAPE. Both of them were already there. Your job was to name them.

That's what a common language does. It gives you the words to label what's already happening in front of you. And when you use those words consistently — every session, every game — your players start to see the game through the same lens you do.

Now here's where it gets more interesting.

What about isolated skill work? What about a technical exercise — first touch, passing patterns, dribbling — where there's no opponent, no real game situation, no natural moment?

This is where the real coaching happens.

If you're running a passing pattern, the question isn't "how do I make this game-like?" The question is: what is this skill in service of? Is a clean first touch in service of SCANNING — opening the body to see more of the field? Is a sharp one-two combination in service of BREAKING — using combination play to get in behind a defense? Is a switching pass in service of BUILD — recycling the ball to find a better angle?

Name it. Connect the isolated skill to the game moment it belongs to. "We're working on this first touch because when you SCAN and you know what's coming, your touch needs to set up your next decision immediately."

Suddenly the technical exercise isn't just a technical exercise. It has a context. It has a game attached to it. And your player isn't just practicing a movement — they're practicing a moment.

That's the task of a coach. Not to search for a "SCAN drill" and run it on a Tuesday. But to look at whatever exercise is in front of them and ask: which of the five moments does this connect to? And then say it out loud. Every time. Until the players make the connection themselves.

The words are simple. Simple enough that a seven-year-old understands them. But behind each one is a lifetime of coaching — the ability to see the game inside the practice, and to give your players the language to see it too.

@LeeDunneSoccer

Common Language - BREAK

Ronaldo. The original one.

"He gets the ball, and he goes to goal."

That's it. That's BREAK.

It's the most exciting word in our Common Language and probably the one players respond to most instinctively. Because BREAK is the moment we all live for. The space opens up, the defense isn't ready, and we go.

But here's what most people miss: BREAK is not a random burst. It's calculated. It's aggressive and devastating — yes — but it's intelligent.

When I shout "BREAK" from the sideline, I'm saying: the moment is here. Go. Now. Don't hesitate.

Because hesitation kills the break. The window closes. The defender recovers. The moment is gone.

At 7v7, there's space everywhere. Kids this age have an almost natural instinct to BREAK — they see the goal and they go. The work at this level is channeling that instinct into something productive, so it becomes habit rather than chaos.

At 9v9, the game tightens. There are more players, more defenders, and the goalkeeper is bigger. BREAK moments still happen, but they require more reading — recognizing that the opponent is high, that there's space in behind, that a first touch can take you into space instead of back into pressure.

At 11v11, breakaways to goal are rarer. But BREAK as a concept is everywhere — breaking pressure in your own half, breaking across halfway with a big touch, breaking through the lines with a combination, breaking out wide after winning the ball in the middle. BREAK isn't only about scoring. It's about taking advantage of any moment the opponent isn't organized.

The key to a great BREAK is one thing: changing pace. Slow to fast. That's how you beat a defender. That's how you make a goalkeeper uncertain. You lull them into thinking you're just building — and then you go.

I love asking families this question: how many times could your child have broken in that game? Did they? If not — why not?

Because sometimes players scan well, they're in great shape, they've supported, they've helped build — and then the moment to BREAK comes and they don't take it. They pass back. They slow down. They second-guess.

Confidence is part of BREAK. Trust is part of it. Knowing you've earned the right to go — because the work before the break was done — that's what makes it work.

SCAN. See the moment before it comes.
SHAPE. Be in the right place for it.
SUPPORT. Make sure your teammates are with you.
BUILD. Keep the ball until the moment opens.
BREAK. And when it does — go.

Five words. One framework. Connecting training to the game, every week.

@LeeDunneSoccer

Coach Scanning

I used to be a lifeguard.

And one of the first things they teach you — before the rescue techniques, before the drills, before any of it — is how to scan. Not how to watch. How to scan.

There's a difference. Watching is passive. You pick a spot, you stare at it, and you hope nothing goes wrong anywhere else. Scanning is active. It's systematic. You move your eyes deliberately across the whole pool — head counts, hazards, toys drifting into the deep end, a kid who went under for a second longer than they should have. You see the whole picture, all the time, and you're trained to know what you're looking for before you need to look for it.

I hadn't thought about that in years until a Twitter exchange recently made me realize: I coach the same way I used to lifeguard. And most coaches don't.

We teach players to SCAN. It's one of the first words in a common language for a reason — see the picture before the ball arrives, know what's around you, make a better decision. Players understand why this matters. We tell them constantly.

Then we step back as coaches, fold our arms, and stare at the ball.

What coach scanning actually looks like

A lifeguard doesn't decide what to look for when they sit down in the chair. They already know. Head counts. Distress signals. Hazards. Depth. It's a mental checklist that runs on loop, practiced until it's automatic.

Coaching is the same. If you walk onto the field without knowing what you're scanning for, you'll miss most of it. Here's the checklist I run.

Player engagement

Before anything else — are they in it? Not physically present, actually engaged. There's a difference between a player going through the motions and a player who's switched on, competing, present in the moment.

You can feel a session where three or four players have mentally checked out. They've decided it doesn't matter. That energy spreads. Your job is to catch it early — one player drifting, not a full group — and deal with it before it becomes the environment.

Scan for eyes, body language, effort level. Not just the players in your vision right now. All of them. The kid at the back of the shape who you haven't spoken to today. The one whose head has been down since they arrived. The lifeguard doesn't watch the lane nearest the chair. They watch the whole pool.

Activity on plan

Is what's actually happening what you designed?

This sounds simple. It isn't. Sessions drift. The game you set up starts producing something different from what you intended, and you either don't notice or you pretend you planned it. The constraint you put in gets ignored after ten minutes and no one says anything. The team that was supposed to press high has started sitting off because it was easier.

Scan for whether the session is doing what you asked it to do. If it isn't — adjust the constraint, reset the condition, or make a call. The worst outcome is spending thirty minutes running a session that stopped working after five.

Coaching moments

What is the game giving you right now?

This is the one coaches miss most. They go in with a coaching point they decided before training, and they're looking for chances to say it — whether the game is producing that moment or not. The stop-and-freeze version of this is the worst: pause a live moment to make a point that doesn't fit what just happened, because you planned to make it.

Scanning for coaching moments means staying curious. What's the game asking your players right now? What's coming up again and again? Where is the decision being made — and is the right decision being made? Let the game set the agenda. Your job is to catch the moment when it's ready to be coached, not manufacture it because you planned it in your notes.

Individual and collective analysis

Two levels, running simultaneously.

Individually: which player needs something right now? A challenge, a word of encouragement, a quiet correction, a question that makes them think? You have sixteen players on the field. Every time you only coach the ones nearest you, you leave twelve of them untouched. Scan the individuals — who haven't you spoken to? Who looks like they need something you haven't given them yet?

Collectively: what is the team doing as a unit? Not the player on the ball — the shape behind them. The movement off the ball. The defensive compactness when you lose it. The collective behavior under your system is either building or breaking down, and you can only see it if you step back far enough to watch the whole picture.

The habit

A lifeguard who stops scanning doesn't get a warning before something goes wrong. By the time they notice, they're already behind.

Coaching is the same. The session that goes badly almost always had early signs — a player who disengaged, a constraint that stopped working, a coaching moment that came and went three times before anyone addressed it. You just weren't scanning for them.

Take a step back. Widen your view. Run the loop — engagement, activity, moments, individuals and collective. Then run it again.

Your players are scanning the game. You need to be scanning the session.

Listen to the full episode: Ep. 97 — Coach Scanning

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@LeeDunneSoccer

From 1,000 Touches to 1,000 Decisions

Early in my coaching career, I worked for a company whose entire summer camp curriculum was built around one number: 1,000 touches.

The idea was simple, and honestly, pretty smart. Every player gets a ball. Set up skill squares. Toe taps, sole rolls, cuts, turns — reps, reps, reps. The goal was to get each kid a thousand touches on the ball, starting immediately, no standing in lines, no waiting.

And I want to be fair to it: for absolute beginners, it worked. A seven-year-old who's never played before needs some confidence and simplicity. They need to not be afraid of the ball or using their feet. A thousand touches in a morning does that. By Friday of camp week, kids who couldn't control a pass on Monday were dribbling with their heads up and smiling about it. We were building confidence, and confidence is the entry fee for everything else in this game.

So this isn't a takedown of 1,000 Touches. It served its purpose.

But I've been coaching long enough now to notice what a thousand touches doesn't build.

The problem with clean reps

Put a player in a skill square and they'll give you beautiful technique. Nobody pressing them. No teammate making a run. No choice to make. Just the ball, the feet, and the pattern.

Then Saturday comes. Now there's a defender closing. A teammate screaming for it. Space behind, pressure in front, three options and half a second to pick one. And that same player — the one with the gorgeous toe taps — freezes. Or panics the ball forward. Or looks at the sideline waiting for an adult to tell them what to do.

That last one is the tell. We didn't teach them to play. We taught them to perform a pattern and wait for instructions.

The touches were never the end goal. They were supposed to be in service of something bigger: a player who can solve the game in real time. Somewhere along the way, youth soccer got very good at manufacturing the reps and very quiet about the solving.

So here's the idea

Call it 1,000 Decisions. Same spirit as the original — volume, immediately, for every player. But the currency changes. Instead of counting touches, we're counting choices: pass or dribble, when to press, which way to turn, risk it or keep it, go now or wait. A thousand small forks in the road, every session.

I'm not designing a formal curriculum here. I've been saying this for years. If you've listened to the podcast or read anything I've written, you already know where I land: games-based play, every time. This is just a new way of articulating why.

And there's only one training environment that produces decisions at that volume: games.

Not drills dressed up as games. Actual games — small-sided, constrained, competitive, sometimes deliberately unfair — designed so that every few seconds, a player has to read something and choose something. Get it right, feel the reward. Get it wrong, face the consequence, and get another chance twenty seconds later. That loop, run a thousand times, is where game intelligence comes from. You can't lecture it into a player. They have to earn it, one decision at a time.

The harder part: it challenges the coach too

Here's the piece I'm most excited about, and the piece that will be most uncomfortable.

A decisions-based curriculum doesn't just demand more from players. It demands a different kind of coaching. When the session is a game, you can't hide behind the cone diagram. You have to watch, actually watch, and coach through the moments the game gives you — the mistimed press, the pass that should've been a dribble, the brave choice that didn't come off but was still the right choice.

That's a skill. Reacting is easy — yelling "shoot!", "pass!", "get rid of it!" from the touchline. That's just making the decisions for them, which is how we ended up here in the first place. Coaching the moment means asking instead of telling. "What did you see?" "What was on?" "If you had that again, what changes?" It means letting a mistake breathe long enough to become a lesson.

If our players need a thousand decisions, we coaches need to survive a thousand urges to interrupt.

Why this matters more now than ever

I've written before on this blog about the world our players are growing up in — a world where every answer is instant and every problem arrives pre-solved. Decision-making is becoming the scarce skill, on the pitch and off it. The kids don't need another adult with the answers. They need a training environment that keeps handing them the question.

That's what 1,000 Decisions is for. It's not a product. It's not a programme. It's just a reminder — a reframe of something I've believed for a long time — that the number we should be chasing has never been touches.

Put them in a game. Watch them decide. Coach the moments the game gives you.

That's it. That's always been it.

@LeeDunneSoccer

The First Pancake Is Always Awful

Adam Clery said something on the Football Ramble this week that I keep coming back to.

"Ever made pancakes? The first is often awful. They get better."

That's it. That's the whole thing. And if you're a soccer coach and you don't immediately see how that applies to what you do every day on the field — read on.

(He was talking about the clubs who replace a long term manager, and the next, new coach is often like the first pancake in a pan.)

Why the first pancake always burns

There's nothing wrong with the batter. The recipe is fine. The problem is the pan.

It's not seasoned. It's not at the right temperature. You haven't found the heat yet, you haven't got the feel of the flip, you don't know where the hot spots are. So the first one comes out uneven, too dark on one side, raw in the middle. You scrape it off and try not to let anyone see it.

The second one is better. The third one is better still. By the fifth pancake you're barely thinking about it — the pan knows what to do, and so do you.

Now think about what you do the first time you run a new session.

You explain the setup. Half the players look confused. Someone's standing in the wrong grid. You restart it three times before it actually runs. You're coaching the shape of the activity rather than the soccer inside it. The session runs, but it doesn't sing.

Run the same session the following week. Half the explaining is gone — players already know the rules. Now you can coach what's actually happening. The decisions, the movement, the quality under pressure. You're not managing the environment anymore. You're coaching inside it.

That's the second pancake. It was always in you. The pan just needed to be hot.

This is why we repeat sessions

The coaching culture we grew up in worshipped novelty. New week, new session plan. Keep them guessing. Keep it fresh. And yes — variety matters. You don't want players going through the motions.

But there's a difference between varying the challenge and throwing away a perfectly good session because you've already used it once.

When players encounter an activity for the second or third time, something different happens. The cognitive load drops. They're not processing the rules anymore — they're playing the game inside the rules. The decisions get sharper. The movement gets more automatic. A session you've run twice is a completely different environment from one you've run once, even if the cones are in exactly the same place.

Some of the best moments I've had on the field came from sessions I'd already run. The players owned it by the third rep. I was just watching and coaching and getting out of the way.

This is why a game model matters

Here's where the pancake metaphor goes deeper.

Imagine every coach at your club is making a different recipe. One uses a different amount of butter. One uses a different pan. One skips the resting time. The players move between these coaches — age group to age group, training group to training group — and every time they do, they're back to the first pancake. Starting over. No continuity, no carry.

A shared game model — a common language, a consistent set of principles that run from your youngest age group to your oldest — means every coach at your club is working from the same recipe. When a player steps up an age group, they already know the pan. They already know the heat. The jump isn't a reset; it's a continuation.

This isn't about rigidity. The recipe can evolve. But there has to be a recipe, or you're just making a different mess every week.

This is why coaches need more games

The last pancake in the stack is the one most coaches forget: your pancakes need to get better too.

Every session you run, every game you coach, you're calibrating your pan. You're learning when to step in and when to stay out. You're reading groups faster. Your interventions are sharper. Your timing for the right question at the right moment gets better with every rep.

This is why volume matters for developing coaches. Not just watching sessions. Running them. Making mistakes in them. Running them again. You can read every coaching book ever written — and you should — but the books don't season the pan. Only the reps do that.

If you're early in your coaching career and you have the choice between one well-prepared session per week or three scrappier ones: take the three. Make the first pancake. Make the bad one. Get to the good ones faster.

The last thing

The first pancake isn't a failure. It's the price of admission. It tells you what the pan needs. It warms everything up so the rest of the batch can be what it was supposed to be.

Don't throw out the recipe. Don't change the pan. Don't start a different breakfast entirely.

Run it again. It gets better.

Thanks to Adam Clery and the Football Ramble for the metaphor. Sometimes the best coaching insight comes from somewhere completely unexpected.

@LeeDunneSoccer

Common Language - BUILD

Xavi's quote is one of the best in the game: "Do something with the ball other than kick it out."

Simple. Direct. And the reason Barcelona dominated world football for a decade.

BUILD is the word I use when I want the team to keep the ball with purpose. To move it. To find the teammate. To resist the instinct to just hoof it forward and hope.

It sounds easy. It isn't. And it's one of the most important habits in the game to develop from a young age.

When I shout "BUILD" from the sideline, I'm saying: don't panic. We have the ball. Find the space. Find the teammate. Work it forward the right way.

BUILD isn't just about goal kicks — though that's where most coaches introduce it. BUILD is about recycling possession every time we can't go forward. It's about moving the opponent by making them chase the ball. It's about creating those moments where we can BREAK.

In fact, BUILD and BREAK are deeply connected. The best teams in the world BUILD until the moment opens up, and then they BREAK. They're patient. They're purposeful. They wear the opponent down and then exploit the space.

At 7v7, BUILD is foundational. For young players, the instinct is to kick it long — to clear the danger, to find the striker, to get it away from goal. That's natural. But we use the build-out line to encourage them to think differently. Can we play out from the back? Can we find someone in a better position? Can we keep it rather than give it away?

At 9v9, BUILD becomes more sophisticated. The field is bigger, there are more players, and the patterns start to develop. Building from goal kicks with a structure. Identifying pressure and playing around it. Using the third-man combination to escape a press.

At 11v11, BUILD is a style of play. It's an identity. Teams that can build — that can keep the ball, move the opponent, and create chances through patience — win games they shouldn't. They control the game even when the other team has better individual players.

If your child panics with the ball, BUILD is the word to focus on. Panic comes from not knowing what to do next. And BUILD gives them a default — when in doubt, find someone in a better position. Keep it. Move it. Don't give it away.

The goal isn't to be possession-obsessed. The goal is to be purposeful. We don't build for the sake of it — we build to create moments. To move the opponent. To find the weak spot. And when we see it — we BREAK.

That's next.

@LeeDunneSoccer

Intent

I was there.

I was in the stadium when England scored. I heard what that sounds like when you're inside it. And I watched what happened next, which wasn't a tactical collapse or a defensive error or a moment of individual brilliance from Argentina — at least not at first.

What happened next was a shift in intent.

England went 1-0 up and seemed to make a decision without making a decision. Not out loud, not officially, not in any way that got communicated clearly on the pitch. Just that quiet drift that happens when a team stops asking "how do we win this?" and starts asking "how do we not lose it?" And if you've ever watched enough football, you know exactly what that looks like, because it doesn't look like anything. That's the problem. It looks like… nothing. Less urgency. Less press. Less of everything that got you the goal in the first place.

They lost 2-1.

And now the coach and the team are being criticized for a lack of intent after going ahead, which is fair. But what I want to do is take that conversation off the international stage and bring it somewhere that matters more to me — to every coach who's got a session tonight, a game this weekend, a group of players who are going to take their cues entirely from what you bring into the space.

Because intent is a coaching problem before it's a player problem. Always.

Why Are We Here?

Start with this question, and I mean really start with it — not as a formality, but as something you can actually answer at any moment.

Why are you here? Why is this session happening? What is the purpose of this group being on this field tonight?

If your answer is "to train" or "to work on pressing" or "to get ready for Saturday," that's not an answer. That's a schedule. Intent goes deeper. Intent is the reason behind the plan.

England's intent at 1-0 should have been: we are here to win a World Cup knockout game, we have shown we can hurt this team, and we are going to keep doing exactly that until the final whistle. That intent had a shape. A direction. Something to build on. Instead, the intent seemed to become: protect what we have and survive.

In grassroots coaching, the question looks different, but it's the same question. Why are you here? Is it because you believe this group of players can do something remarkable together, and every session is a step toward that? Is it because you want to give these kids the best experience of the game they're ever going to have? Is it because you're building something week by week that you can see clearly even when they can't yet?

Whatever it is — know it. Have it. Bring it.

Who Are the Players in Front of You?

Intent isn't generic. It's shaped by context, and context starts with your players.

The background your players carry into training matters. The player who had a difficult week at school. The one who's been dropped to the B team and hasn't dealt with it yet. The one who's been injured and is nervous about being back. The one who's been on a streak of great performances and is starting to get a bit comfortable. These are not distractions from coaching — they are the coaching.

England's players went into that game with context. Some of them have been chasing a tournament win their whole careers. Some of them have experienced heartbreak at this level before. That context either fuels intent or it works against it, and the job of the coaching staff is to know which one it is for each player in that dressing room.

At your level, the same principle applies. You can't build shared intent without understanding individual motivation. And you can't build individual motivation without knowing the person, not just the player.

The Game Model: Something to Believe In

The game model is often talked about in tactical terms — how we press, how we build, how we defend — but it's actually an intent document.

A game model tells your players: this is who we are. This is how we play. This is what we do when we have the ball, when we don't have it, when we win it back, when we lose it. This is us.

The problem with England sitting back at 1-0 wasn't just tactical. It was a contradiction of identity. This team, at its best, plays on the front foot. That's the model. That's who they are when they're good. So when they abandoned it the moment they had something to protect, they didn't just change shape — they lost themselves.

When your players know who they are and what your team is about, intent becomes self-correcting. A player who understands the model doesn't need to be told to press again after winning the ball — they do it because it's what they do. That's only possible when the model is genuinely believed in, not just followed.

Weekly Objectives: Intent Has to Be Current

A game model is the long view. The weekly objective is the near one. And both have to be alive at the same time.

This week, we're working on staying compact in transition. That's the objective. Now connect it back to the model, back to the purpose, back to why this group is on this field together. The weekly objective should never feel like a separate thing — it should feel like this week's version of the always-thing.

If your players finish a session and they can tell you what they worked on but not why it matters, the intent hasn't landed. The plan was communicated. The intent wasn't.

Communication: Sharing the Intent

This is where a lot of coaches get it almost right and then stop short.

You can have a clear game model, strong weekly objectives, and a genuine understanding of your players — and then walk into a session and describe what's happening without ever saying why it matters. You explain the drill. You explain the rules. You explain where the cones go. And your players go through it, and some of them get it and some of them don't, and you assume the ones who didn't get it just weren't paying attention.

But here's what's more likely: they didn't get the intent. They got the activity.

Communicating intent means connecting the thing you're doing right now to something bigger than the thing you're doing right now. "We're going to do this because in the game on Saturday, this is the moment we've been losing — and tonight we're going to change that." Or: "This is what our team looks like when we're at our best. Let's see if we can find that tonight."

That's a different entry point than "right, four corners, two teams, first to ten goals." Even if the session that follows is identical.

The Real Skill: Getting Them to Believe

Here's where I think coaching actually lives. Not in the plan. Not in the session design. Not in the tactics board or the cones or the formation.

It's in the transfer.

The real skill is taking the intent that you have — the clear why, the knowledge of your players, the game model, the weekly objective, the communication — and making it something your players genuinely feel. Not follow. Feel.

Because a player who's following intent will sit back when the team goes 1-0 up. A player who believes in intent doesn't know how to do that. It's not in them. Their body doesn't know how to play without urgency once it's understood why the urgency matters.

That transfer happens through relationship. Through consistency. Through being the kind of coach whose purpose is visible not just at the start of the season but at 1-0 up with twenty minutes to go in a knockout game.

England's players are not short of quality. They're not short of experience. What was missing in those twenty minutes was belief — belief that the intent that got them the goal was still the right response to the situation, even when every instinct was telling them to pull the shutters down.

Building that belief is the job. In every session, at every age, with every group.

Not just when the season starts.

Not just when things are going well.

At 1-0 up, with the crowd noise fading, and the other team starting to come.

That's when intent matters most.

@LeeDunneSoccer

Common Language - SUPPORT

Pelé said it: "No individual can win the game by themselves."

He's the greatest of all time, and that's what he leads with. Not goals. Not skill. Not speed. Support.

SUPPORT is probably the word in our Common Language with the most emotional weight to it. Because support isn't just a tactical concept. It's a cultural one.

When I shout "SUPPORT" from the sideline, I might mean: get closer to the player on the ball so they have a passing option. I might mean: track that run — your teammate is exposed. I might mean: move into that space behind the defensive line. Or I might just mean: get in a position to help.

But off the field, SUPPORT means something different. It means cheering for a teammate who just made a mistake. It means not throwing your hands up when someone misses a chance. It means being the first one over when a teammate goes down.

Both kinds of support matter. And neither is possible without the other.

On the field, SUPPORT is about ball movement and player movement. Every player in possession should have at least two supporting options at all times. SUPPORT breaks the habit of "bunch ball" — that beautiful chaos where 12 players are chasing one ball and nobody is in position.

At 7v7, the job is simple: can we get two or three players offering options? Can we break the bunch ball just a little? Small steps, big payoff.

At 9v9, support starts to look like connecting the dots. Players are learning to see the picture — where should I be to help my teammate on the ball? How do I create an overload? How do I give them an option to break pressure?

At 11v11, SUPPORT is everything. Keeping space from the player on the ball. Positioning between the lines for those killer passes defenders can't reach. Double-team defending. Covering rotation. Constant movement to create numerical advantages in both phases of the game.

Here's what I love about SUPPORT as a Common Language word: it applies everywhere, at every moment.

We just won the ball? SUPPORT the counter. We just lost it? SUPPORT the press. The goalkeeper has it? SUPPORT the build-up. A teammate is being pressured? SUPPORT by giving them an out.

One word. Every moment.

And the challenge I give families: does your kid support on and off the field? Because the ones who cheer for their teammates, who communicate, who show up ready to help — they're easier to coach, easier to play with, and they make the whole team better regardless of what they do with the ball.

SUPPORT is teamwork. It's cohesion. It's control.

And it's the word that turns a group of players into a team.

@LeeDunneSoccer

Common Language - SHAPE

If SCAN is about seeing the game, SHAPE is about being in the right place for it.

Pep Guardiola's teams are the best example of shape done right. His quote says everything: "The objective is to give nothing to the opponent." When your team has great shape, the opponent doesn't know where to go. There's no space to exploit, no gaps to run into. The ball goes backwards because there's nowhere to go forward.

That's what SHAPE does.

But here's the most important thing I want you to take away: SHAPE is not a formation. A formation is a starting point on a piece of paper. SHAPE is what happens live, during the game, in real time.

Shape is the entire team and their positions relative to the ball. It's about overloads around the ball — those moments where we have more players than they do in a tight area. It's about the opportunities that exist away from the ball. And it's about every single player knowing where they should be in both defense and attack.

When I shout "SHAPE" from the sideline, I could mean a dozen different things.

I might mean a player is out of position and needs to come back. I might mean we just lost the ball and the whole team needs to shift defensively — right now. I might mean we need a big attacking shape to control the game. I might mean a player needs to anticipate where to move before the demand appears.

One word. A dozen meanings. That's the power of a common language.

At 7v7, shape is mostly about formation awareness — where do I stand for a goal kick? What are my starting positions for set pieces? Where do I move when we don't have the ball? Younger players are naturally drawn to the ball, and that's fine. But introducing SHAPE starts to build the habit of finding your position rather than chasing the play.

At 9v9, it gets richer. Players are starting to understand position rotation — when someone pushes forward, someone covers. They're beginning to recognize marking assignments and understand what defensive compactness actually feels like in a game.

At 11v11, shape is everything. Movement to create overloads, positioning between the lines for killer passes, anticipating pending demands — all of it happening simultaneously. A team with great shape feels organized, connected, and genuinely hard to break down.

Here's a question for the car ride home: "Were you in the right shape when we didn't have the ball?"

It sounds simple. It isn't.

Because maintaining your shape when you don't have the ball — when your instinct is to watch, or to drift — that's where games are won and lost.

SHAPE is control. It's understanding. It's recognition.

When the whole team has it, you give the opponent nothing.

@LeeDunneSoccer

The World Cup Is a Free Coaching Resource. Are You Using It?

Every four years something happens that we spend the rest of the time trying to manufacture.

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Players show up to training talking about the game. They're watching matches. They're arguing about players. Their parents are asking questions. Families who've never cared about soccer are suddenly watching it together. Registration interest goes up. Kids are out in the street playing it.

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The World Cup does in four weeks what the average youth soccer club tries to do all year. And it does it for free.

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The question is how you use it.

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The First Half Challenge

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The first thing I do with my players during a major tournament is give them one task per game: watch the first half.

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Not the whole game. Just the first half. And not as homework — as an investigation.

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Here's why the first half: both teams are still playing to their plan. By the second half, substitutions have happened, the scoreline is influencing decisions, teams are reacting to each other. What you see in the second half is a lot messier and harder to learn from. The first half is where you see the game models in action, where players are executing what they've been trained to do.

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Within that first half, I ask my players to watch the player at their position. Not the stars — the player doing their job. What did they do well? What did they struggle with? What was the game asking of them that they either handled or didn't?

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Then I ask the connection question: your team asks similar things of you in that position. How do those expectations compare to what you just watched?

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That question alone can generate more real coaching conversation than three sessions of drills.

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Don't Make It Feel Like a Job

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Here's what I'm always careful about: I don't want players watching the World Cup and feeling like it's work.

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The best way to kill a kid's relationship with the game is to turn every moment of joy into an assessment. If they're watching the US play and every time something happens they have to fill in a form, you've ruined it. That's not how fans fall in love with the sport, and the long-term value of a player who loves the game is greater than any specific tactical insight you might extract from one tournament game.

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So alongside the position challenge, I also ask them something much simpler: what was the best moment of the game?

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Not the most tactically interesting. Not the most instructive. The best. The thing that made them shout, or laugh, or rewind it twice, or send it to a teammate. That question reconnects them with why any of us watch in the first place.

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Bring the Families In

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This is where the real opportunity sits, and most coaches don't go near it.

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Your players are 12 to 18 people. Those players have families. Those families have neighbors. One World Cup can touch more people in your community than a full season of league games, if you give it a little structure.

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A bracket. Nothing complicated — who's going to win each group, who's going to the final, who's going to win it. Get your players to fill one in and send it to the group chat. Then ask them to do one with a parent, or a sibling, or whoever's at home.

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Now soccer is happening at the dinner table. Parents who've never watched a match are suddenly invested in Croatia's result because their kid picked them to get to the final. That's culture. That's the game growing in a family. And families that are invested in the game support youth soccer differently than families who see it as just a Saturday morning obligation.

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Predict the first scoreline. Pick the player who'll have the biggest impact in each game. Ask your players to send you their predictions before kickoff. You'll learn something about how they see the game, and they'll feel like someone in coaching actually cares what they think.

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The Cyclical Opportunity

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Here's the thing about the World Cup that's easy to miss when you're caught up in the day-to-day of running a club or coaching a team: it's cyclical. Every four years, the game comes to the world's attention in a way nothing else achieves. And every four years, clubs and coaches either use that moment or let it pass.

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The clubs that use it see bumps in registration. They see players arriving to training with questions. They see parents at the sideline who are suddenly curious about positions and tactics. They see players who've watched their positional counterpart play on the world stage and want to understand what they saw.

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That window is open right now. Your players are watching. They're paying attention. The game has their interest in a way it might not have for another four years.

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Ask them what they're seeing. Challenge them to watch one half properly. Let them make the predictions. Bring their families into it.

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The World Cup is doing the hard work. Your job is to make the connection.

Listen to the full episode: Ep. 73 — The World Cup Is Coming (2022)

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@LeeDunneSoccer

Common Language - SCAN

The first word in our Common Language is SCAN. And it's arguably the most important one.

Here's the thing about SCAN — it's not just a coaching instruction. It's a way of playing the game. It's the difference between a player who reacts to what just happened and a player who's already prepared for what's coming next.

Declan Rice said it best: "If you're not scanning, you've got no chance."

He's right.

When I shout "SCAN" from the sideline, I'm not just asking a player to turn their head. Well, I am — but I'm really asking for something bigger. I'm asking them to gather information. To see the space. To find the open teammate. To notice where the opponent is and where they're not. To ask themselves: where could I be in trouble, and where is the opportunity?

At the youngest levels — 7v7 — my first job with SCAN is simply to get players to lift their heads. At this age, the ball is the universe. Everything is about chasing it, winning it, and scoring with it. That's natural. That's beautiful, even. But if we can start to ask them to see what's around them, something shifts.

By 9v9, the game starts to slow down in their minds — not because it's physically slower, but because they're starting to anticipate. They're not just reacting to what just happened. They're beginning to predict what might happen next.

At 11v11, the best players aren't playing the game in front of them. They're two or three moments ahead. They know where they're passing before the ball arrives. They know which teammate is open, which zone to move into, and whether there's a BREAK moment developing on the other side of the field.

That's SCAN.

When a player is scanning well, you'll notice their body position opens up. They're not square to the ball — they're angled, so they can receive and immediately see more of the field. They're preparing for the second ball. They're moving into supportive positions before they're even needed.

The question I ask families — and it's one you can use in the car on the way home from a game — is simple: "Did you see what was happening around you before you got the ball?"

Not "did you score?" Not "did you have a good game?"

Did you scan?

Because if a player is scanning consistently, the good moments will come. The goals, the assists, the great decisions — all of it follows when a player is genuinely reading the game.

When they scan, they anticipate and prepare. Their body position opens up, which creates more opportunity. Their confidence goes up because they're no longer surprised by the game — they saw it coming.

This isn't about telling your kid to "look around more." It's about building a habit. Every time they receive the ball, they've already done the work. They know what's coming. They're ready.

SCAN is the foundation. And it's the first of five words that connect what happens in training to what happens on match day.

Next up — SHAPE.

@LeeDunneSoccer

The Power of a Common Language

I've been coaching for a long time. And one of the things I keep coming back to — the thing that has changed how I coach more than any course, any badge, or any system — is the idea of a common language.

One word. Said the same way, every session, every game. And over time, that word carries an entire world of meaning.

Let me explain what I mean.

When I say "SCAN" from the sideline, my player hears one thing: look around, see what's happening, get ready. Simple. Clear. Instant.

What they don't see is the hours of thinking behind that word. The developmental psychology of how young players process information. The body positioning science that tells us an open stance increases the quality of a first touch. The tactical understanding of what it means to read a game two moments ahead. The relationship between scanning frequency and decision-making speed at the elite level.

They don't see any of that. They hear SCAN. They scan. The game slows down.

That's the power of a common language.

There's a phrase I keep coming back to: simplistic in delivery, complex in meaning. And that's the whole idea. The word is for the player. The complexity is for me as the coach. My job is to do the deep work — to understand the why, to build it into sessions week after week, to create the conditions where the word lands at exactly the right moment. The player's job is to hear it and respond.

Too many coaches do the opposite. They over-explain. They use tactical language that even adults find confusing. They say "maintain your defensive shape while transitioning into a mid-block" and then wonder why a twelve-year-old looks at them blankly.

Players don't need complexity. Players need clarity.

What they need is a word they know. A word they've practiced. A word that connects what they did in training on Tuesday to what's happening on the field right now on Saturday morning. That's the bridge. That's what a common language builds.

And here's something I didn't fully appreciate until I started working with larger groups of coaches: a common language doesn't just help players. It aligns an entire coaching staff. When every coach in your program uses the same five words, something remarkable happens. A player can move from a U8 session to a U12 session and hear the same instruction. They carry that word with them as they grow. By the time they're playing 11v11, SHAPE means something rich and deep — because they've been hearing it and practicing it since they were seven years old.

That's not just coaching. That's development.

The five words I've built our language around are SCAN, SHAPE, SUPPORT, BUILD, and BREAK. Each one is a concept. Each one applies to every age group, every formation, every moment of the game — but in different ways, at different levels of sophistication. What BREAK means for a 7-year-old is different from what it means for a 15-year-old. But the word is the same. The habit is the same. The connection between coach and player is the same.

And that's the point.

Over the next five blogs I'll break down each word — what it means, why I chose it, how I teach it across age groups, and what families can listen for on the sideline and talk about on the way home.

Because common language doesn't stop at the touchline. When a parent knows the word, and asks about it in the car, and the player explains what happened in the game — that's the real learning. That's when it sticks.

SCAN. SHAPE. SUPPORT. BUILD. BREAK.

Five words. A lifetime of coaching.

Let's start with SCAN.

@LeeDunneSoccer

The Rule You Add Is the Game You Get

I want to talk about something that sounds simple but has massive implications for how you run your practices.

A rule. One rule. And what it does to the game your players actually play.

In 2012, researchers Almeida, Ferreira, and Volossovitch published a study in The Open Sports Sciences Journal that I keep coming back to. They took eight U-13 players, split them into two teams, and put them through the same 3v3 small-sided game under three different conditions: free-form (no extra rules), two touches maximum, and four passes required before a shot.

Same players. Same field size. Same game format. Three completely different rule sets. And the results? Three completely different games.

Here's what they found.

Free-Form: The Individualists

When there were no constraints, players defaulted to individual expression. More 1v1 duels. More decisions to take people on rather than play through. Shorter passing sequences — not because the players couldn't pass, but because they didn't need to. The ball moved freely, attacks developed naturally, and the game looked good. But it also looked a lot like players solving problems for themselves rather than together.

Free-form produced the most "individualistic approach," as the researchers put it. And there's value in that — it's where you see who can genuinely take someone on, who reads space intuitively, who competes. But it's also where some players hide, because there's no structural pressure to connect.

Two Touches: The Fast Game

The two-touch rule produced the shortest possessions, the fewest ball touches, and the fastest collective rhythm. Players had to think before the ball arrived. They had to move to give angles. The game sped up — which sounds like a problem, but actually mirrors professional soccer more closely than you'd expect. Research by Dellal et al. (2011) found that elite players at professional level average close to two touches per possession anyway. So in a way, the two-touch game is the most game-realistic constraint in this study.

What was most interesting to me: the two-touch rule also produced the most offensive sequences (106, versus 93 free-form and only 67 with four passes). Faster play meant more transitions, more opportunities, more exposure to game moments. And despite being the condition with the fewest touches per player, it actually produced the most goals.

The catch? It kills 1v1 dribbling development. If you run two-touch all session, every session, your players lose the conditions they need to practice beating people. As the researchers note directly: "the two-touches playing rule does not provide to youngsters the best circumstances to develop the dribbling actions useful in 1v1 situations."

This is the unintended consequence I talk about in my book. The constraint you choose shapes behavior — and not always in the direction you planned.

Four Passes to Score: The Collective Game

This one fascinated me most. The four-pass rule produced the longest possessions (over 20 seconds on average, compared to 9.5 seconds for two-touch), the most passes, the most players involved in each sequence, and — here's the counterintuitive part — the fewest shots. But when players did shoot? They scored at a rate of 53%, versus 25% free-form and 31% two-touch.

Four passes to score forced teams to find better quality chances. It demanded collective involvement. You couldn't score without working together first. And the data showed it: more players involved per sequence, more passes per player, more genuine team play in the attacking phase.

But it also produced more variability, more mistakes, and ultimately fewer shots on goal. When you force teams to build before they can shoot, the game slows, defenses organize, and free space disappears. Players are working against an organized defensive structure almost every time. That's hard. And it shows in the numbers.

So What Does This Mean for You?

The point isn't that one rule is better than the others. They each do something different. That's exactly the point.

Two-touch makes your game faster and more realistic for older players, but it shouldn't be your default. Free-form gives players the chance to self-organize, compete individually, and express themselves — which matters, especially at younger ages. Four passes develops collective play and teaches teams to be patient and connected in attack. But overuse it, and you're training a game that doesn't quite exist.

I've spoken about this on the Heads and Volleys Podcast (Ep. 48, Constraints on Practice and Players, with Ben Bell) and written about it in my book 1v1's Outside the Box. The principle is the same every time: every constraint you add to a practice has consequences. Some intended, some not. A four-goal game produces more turns — Pulling, Twitchen, and Pettefer (2016) confirmed that. An end zone rewards line-breaking runs. A pass count constrains shot timing and can force your striker to delay finishing a clear chance.

The researchers put it well: "The modification of game rules should be carefully pondered and applied for specific purposes, when planning youth soccer training sessions."

Not randomly. Not habitually. With purpose.

Before you add a constraint to your next session, ask yourself three questions:

What behavior am I trying to develop? What does this rule actually encourage players to do? And what does it accidentally discourage?

If you can answer all three clearly, you're planning well. If you're adding it because it looked organized or kept the session moving — that's worth revisiting.

The rule you add is the game you get. Make sure it's the game you want.

Almeida, C.H., Ferreira, A.P., Volossovitch, A. (2012). Manipulating Task Constraints in Small-Sided Soccer Games: Performance Analysis and Practical Implications. The Open Sports Sciences Journal, 5, 174-180.

Dellal, A., Chamari, K., Owen, A.L., Wong, D.P., Lago-Penas, C., Hill-Haas, S. (2011). Influence of technical instructions on the physiological and physical demands of small-sided soccer games. European Journal of Sport Science, 11(5), 341-6.

Pulling, C., Twitchen, A., Pettefer, C. (2016). Goal Format in Small-Sided Soccer Games: Technical Actions and Offensive Scenarios of Prepubescent Players. Sports, 4(4), 53.

1v1's Outside the Box. LeeDunneSoccer.

Ep. 48 Constraints on Practice and Players. Heads and Volleys Podcast.

@LeeDunneSoccer

The Balance Bike Theory

What's the Balance Bike of Soccer?

A couple of weeks back I taught my daughter how to ride a bike. And yeah, I know — every kid learns to ride a bike, it's not exactly breaking news. But the way we did it? That's what got me thinking.

I picked up a balance bike off Facebook Marketplace for twenty bucks. Thing was rusted, a bit cranky, but it did exactly what it needed to do. We've got a slanted driveway at home, so she'd push off at the top and balance her way down while I caught her at the bottom. Ten minutes in, she was flying. We broke out the chalk, drew a little course, and she was whipping around it like she'd been doing it for years.

She'd mastered the one thing that mattered. Balance. Everything else just followed.

So then she said "let's get my bike out." I'd already taken the training wheels off. She sat on it, I gave her a little push, and she was gone — pedaling around the block with me chasing behind her. Under an hour, start to finish.

That balance bike is probably the best $20 I've ever spent.

And it got me thinking: what's the balance bike of soccer?

What's the one thing — that single foundation — that when a player has it, everything else starts to click? For young players just starting out, for your high school team, for your college squad? What's that thing you can give them that unlocks the rest?

Some coaches would say it's technical ability. Others would point to positional understanding, tactical awareness, game intelligence. Rondos became a balance bike for a lot of coaches — give the players a consistent experience that teaches them your style, and the rest grows from there. I get that.

But for me? It's confidence.

I'll tell you where that comes from. I played for a coach who yelled constantly. I had teammates who'd lose their minds any time someone made a mistake. And I felt it — felt the pressure building, felt myself tensing up on the ball, second-guessing, playing within myself. I wasn't performing anywhere near what I was capable of, because every touch felt like it was being judged.

Eventually I just stopped going. I didn't want to be in that environment anymore.

And we see it happen all the time. That attrition cliff at 13, 14, 15 years old — players dropping out of the game. A lot of people think it's because soccer isn't fun, or life gets busy, or other sports get in the way. But honestly? I think a huge part of it is that they stopped feeling good in their teams. They stopped feeling confident. And when that goes, they go.

So what does it actually look like to build confidence in your environment?

For me, it starts in training. I use small-sided games — 3v3, 4v4, 5v5 — and I use plus players instead of neutrals, because I want to replicate real game moments as much as possible. And in the middle of that, when I see a player do something well, I catch them. Specific feedback. "That was excellent. Here's the one thing I'd love you to work on. Go home and try this tonight."

Then I shoot a message to the parents. "She had a great session today. She's starting to really understand this moment. Here's the homework I've set — just check in on her, not to push her, just to ask how it's going." That little bit of accountability closes the loop. And when they come back and I ask how it went? That conversation alone builds something in them.

Is that a lot of work? Yes. You've got 12 to 18 players on your roster. You can't do that with every single one every single session. But even if you reach half of them? You've got kids going home and practicing. You've got kids starting pickup games at school. That's the culture difference we're always chasing. I grew up in England where kids just played everywhere — in the street, in the park, anywhere. That doesn't happen here as naturally, but confidence is how you get closer to it.

One more thing, and this one's easy to miss: protect it in your team environment. There's nothing wrong with "come on, let's go" in the moment. But the second a player is sniping at a teammate for making a mistake — especially one you challenged them to try — you've got to get in front of that. That stuff kills confidence quietly, and it changes the whole culture of what you're building.

Think about what your balance bike is. Maybe it's confidence, maybe it's something else, and if it is I genuinely want to hear it.

Listen to the full episode here 👉 Episode 95 - The Balance Bike

And come find me on Twitter/X — @LeeDunneSoccer — I'm always up for the conversation.

Your Players Need to Self Reflect

Do You Actually Know How Your Players Feel About Soccer?

I've always pushed the idea of two points of contact with every player in every session. One coaching point — something about their game, something they can work on. And one personal connection — how's the dog, how was the school show, what's going on in their life outside of soccer. Build that in consistently and over time it changes everything about the relationship you have with your players.

But here's the thing. When you're coaching two or three teams, actually doing that is hard. Really hard. You can try to catch everyone but some nights you're just trying to keep the session together.

So I started looking for ways to speed it up — and what I landed on was something I'm now using at my club. We call it a self-reflection.

It's simple. We push it out through our software and ask players to answer a few questions. No judgment, no grades, no consequences. Just honest answers.

The first question is: on a scale of one to five, how do you identify as a soccer player? Five means soccer is you — it's everything, you eat and breathe it. One means you play, you enjoy it, but it doesn't define you. Growing up I was a hard five. Everything was football. But plenty of the kids you're working with right now are twos and threes, and that's completely fine. The power isn't in judging the number. The power is in knowing it.

I had a kid a couple of years back who gave himself a five — total soccer player, loves it. But he was missing practice once a week. I was confused by it. Turned out his mom wanted him to play baseball too. He didn't really want to, but that's what the family had decided. I had no idea until I asked. Once I knew, I could have a totally different conversation with both him and his parents.

The second question is around attitude. Out of five, how committed are you to getting better? Are you showing up to improve, or are you here because you enjoy being here and that's enough? And look — both are valid answers. Not every kid on your team has the same ambitions and that's okay. But you need to know which is which, because the way you coach a five is completely different from the way you coach a two.

The third question is about challenge. How do you handle it? Do you want to be pushed? Are you ready to step up? Some kids are screaming for it and won't tell you. Some are quietly terrified and won't tell you either. This question opens the door.

Now here's where it gets interesting. I was at a convention in Philadelphia and heard a professor named Mark Williams — he works at Manchester United — present on talent identification. And his core message was that we consistently get it wrong. We pick the bigger, faster, stronger kids at nine and ten years old, stack our top teams with them, and give the smaller kids volunteer coaches and lower expectations. Then we wonder why so many of those "studs" aren't studs anymore by twelve.

The late developers, the smaller kids who had to fight harder and earn everything — those are often the ones who end up going the furthest. Because they built grit while the early bloomers were just coasting on physicality. And when I ask players how they handle challenge in a self-reflection, I'm starting to get a picture of who's built for the long game.

The last piece is a text question: who do you want to be as a soccer player this year? Not just "better" — actually describe it. Bigger? Faster? More technical? Do you want to play up an age group? Do you want to challenge for a starting spot? Can you articulate it? Because if they can write it down, now I can coach to it. Now every point of contact I have with that player throughout the season is anchored to something they told me they wanted.

And here's the coaching gold: when that player comes to training and I see them doing exactly what they said they wanted to work on, I can catch them — "hey, that's your five right there" — and suddenly that self-reflection from three weeks ago has come to life in the session. That's how you build the kind of relationship where players actually feel seen. Not because you have superhuman memory, but because you asked the right questions and kept the answers.

This doesn't take extra time. It takes a few minutes of setup through whatever platform you're using. And if a player doesn't fill it in? Honestly, that probably tells you something too.

The best thing you can do for your players isn't always on the training field. Sometimes it's just asking the right questions and actually listening to the answers.

Listen to the full episode here 👉 Heads and Volleys - Episode 94 Self Reflections

And come find me on Twitter/X — @LeeDunneSoccer — I'm always up for the conversation.

A Successful Game Day, Part 2

How I Coach on Game Day — From Kickoff to the Car Ride Home

If you caught Part 1 of this series, we covered everything leading up to kickoff — the warmup, Friday evening communication, Saturday morning prep, how to get your team ready before the whistle goes. This is Part 2. This is what happens once the game actually starts.

First thing: game day planner in your hand. Timer running. That's it, that's how we begin.

The Eye Test

In the first few minutes, I'm not coaching my players. I'm watching the opponent. What formation are they in? How does it match up to ours? Where are the overloads, where are the mismatches? I'm almost playing it like a video game in my head. Then I'm watching their players — who looks quick, who looks slow, who looks like they're going to be a problem. Nine times out of ten your first impressions are right, especially at grassroots level.

Then I look at their coach. Are they yelling? Pacing? Calm? Five assistants or just themselves? This matters more than people give it credit for. If they're a screamer and I know it, I've got a decision to make — do I wind them up and let the referee sort it out, or do I just focus on my side? Either way, I want to know what I'm dealing with.

My subs at the start of the game? I just tell them to sit back and watch. What do you see? That's their job. No task yet — that comes when they come off the field.

In the Game

With my planner in hand I'm tracking the goals we set. Not just watching the game — actually measuring. How many times did we switch play? How many times did we force them to turn it over? I'm making marks. This is what keeps me objective when I'm tempted to just react to everything I see.

When I pull a player, I give them hot feedback — quick, specific, actionable. We needed a bit more of X, watch for Y when they have the ball wide. Then I send them to get water and keep watching. They're learning even when they're not on the field.

Half Time

Whistle goes. I walk onto the field and high five every player. Doesn't matter what the score is. Come on, let's go. Everybody sit down, grab a drink.

And then — no parents. I mean it. There is nothing worse than a parent fussing around trying to find water in a bag or wiping someone's face. Get out of here. They'll figure it out. Nobody's going to die of thirst in two minutes.

First question: any injuries or issues? Second: here's how we did on Goal A. Here's how we did on Goal B. Specific, short, tied to what we talked about before the game. Then I give the lineup for the second half and we go. That's it. Clean, fast, back on the field.

If there's a couple of minutes to spare before kickoff I'm not standing there doing a tactical deep dive. I'm walking around, giving individual attention. Hey, that was a nice bit of play. I see what you're trying to do there. Keep going. Not coaching — connecting.

After the Game

Shake hands. Every time. "Thank you for the game, Coach." Even if the other coach was a nightmare the whole way through. Especially then, actually. I don't say "good game" — I just say thank you. Then I thank the referee. Without them, we don't play. It's consistent, it's clean, and it sets the tone for your players watching you do it.

Huddle the team. Walk shoulder to shoulder in front of the parents, clapping. Thank you for coming, thank you for the support. Quick recap on the goals — what we did well, what we'll build on — and then we're done. Get your stuff. Go get some food.

Monday Morning

This is where a lot of coaches stop doing the work. Don't.

Send a message to the families Monday morning. A short one. Thank them for their support. Say something real about the game — not the score, the goals. Goal A was switching the play — here's what we were going for and here's where we got to. Goal B was forcing turnovers — we did it well in the first half and dropped off a little in the second. That's it.

If you've got game film, share the link — but give them a task. Ask your players to send you two timestamps where they saw Goal A or Goal B happening. Now they actually have to watch it. Now it means something.

When families have something specific to look for, car rides change completely. It stops being "why is that kid always playing" and starts being "you guys were really going for it with the press today." That's not nothing. That's you quietly educating the people around your players. And when they start to understand what you're building, you've got everyone pulling in the same direction.

That's the whole game day system. It's a lot when you look at it all at once, but when it becomes your routine it runs itself — and your players will feel the difference.

Listen - Heads and Volleys Podcast, Episode 93

@LeeDunneSoccer

Mastering Game Day, Part 1

Game Day Starts Before You Ever Reach the Field

Everything we do as coaches is about the game. The way you train, the players you pick at tryouts, the formation you set — it all points back to the same thing. So it's worth asking: does your game day routine actually reflect the amount of work you put in to prepare for it?

This came out of a reflection I did at the end of last season at the club. We use a platform called Sprocket for team communication, and I can see everything — coaches who are sending consistent updates to families, coaches who are wishing parents happy Thanksgiving, and coaches who are barely saying a word. I also run family satisfaction surveys at the end of the season, and the pattern is pretty consistent: the coaches with the highest satisfaction scores are the ones with the most consistent communication. It doesn't matter if they won all their games or lost most of them. The families felt connected to what was happening, and that made all the difference.

So let's talk about how you actually build that. And it starts long before game day.

Preseason Setup

Before a ball gets kicked, there's a list of things I want every coach to work through. Have you asked your families for their expectations? Have you set yours? Things like arrival times, kit, behavioral standards on the sideline, the 48-hour rule, post-game activities. Have you communicated your game model and your style of play? Do the families know what a 4-3-3 looks like and why you're using it?

Have you introduced a season plan — even a simple one? "We have 10 games. The first five are our learning phase. By game six and seven, here's what we want to see. The end-of-season tournament is our test." That's it. Families who know what you're building are families who are patient, invested, and supportive.

All of this stuff that coaches skip in preseason is what creates confusion and frustration midseason. Get it done early, and you'll spend a lot less time putting out fires later.

Friday Communication

Every Friday before a game, your families and players get a message. Not an essay — a message. This is what we worked on this week. Here's why. Here's what to look for from the sideline on Saturday. Two goals for the game, one attacking and one defensive.

For example: our attacking goal this week is switching the play. We've been working on moving the ball quickly from one side to the other to get in behind the defense. Look for us to try that. It might not always work, but you should see us attempting it. Our defensive goal is to make play predictable — press well, set traps, force them into turnovers. We'll track both of those through the game.

When parents know what to look for, the car ride home changes. It stops being "why was he playing there?" and starts being "I saw them switching the play a couple of times in the second half." That's everything.

Saturday Morning

Short message. "Can't wait. Here's the field, here's the parking situation, don't forget we're going for pizza after." That's it. Keep it light. They've already got the important stuff from Friday.

Arrive vs. Ready

This one matters more than people realize. I don't say "be there at 11:15." I say "arrive by 11:00, boots on and ready at 11:15." There's a difference. And at 11:15, the team talk starts — whether I have 5 players there or 15. That's the standard. I don't punish the kids who showed up on time by waiting around for the ones who didn't.

The team talk itself is short. Reminder of the goals, reminder of what we've been working on. Here's the formation. Here's the lineup. I don't ask questions. I tell them. We'll figure things out together on the field — the team talk is about clarity, not discussion.

The Warm Up

I follow a consistent structure every game. We start with an adapted 11+ for warm up — dynamic movements, quick touches, get them excited. Then 3v1 rondos, middle player in for 20 seconds, rotate, four rounds total. Then a 4v4 plus three, defenders and attackers rotating through. Ten to twenty minutes before kickoff — depending on age — we go into attack vs. defense. For 7v7 it's a 3v3 with one keeper, three plus players on halfway who rotate in. For 11v11 it scales up accordingly.

If I've got time with older players I'll add a 2v2 to goal — two defenders either side, two attackers, ball in, combine, score. It's not the most glamorous drill but the energy is right. Competition, aggression, desire — that's what I want in the last few minutes before we kick off.

Then we come in. Captains go do the coin toss. Final look at the tactics board. Subs get their pennies. Team huddle, cheer, let's go.

If you're reading this thinking "that's a lot" — you're right. But it becomes nothing once it's your routine. The goal this winter is to build it in practice first. Ask your team to arrive a bit early, run through the full game day warm-up, do it for four weeks. By the time spring season starts, your players will know exactly what's coming every single week, and there will be zero surprises.

That consistency is the foundation everything else is built on.

Listen - Heads and Volleys Podcast, Episode 92

@LeeDunneSoccer

Can You Recreate the Game in Practice?

The Only Question That Matters When You Plan a Training Session

I've spent years planning sessions, delivering model sessions for coaching licenses, and watching other coaches train their teams. And honestly, after all of that, I think everything comes down to one question.

Is it game-like?

Before you switch off — this isn't me telling you small-sided games are the only way, or that isolated technical work has no place in your sessions. That's not where I'm going. There's no absolute right or wrong way to run a training session. You know your players, you coach your way. But understanding what "game-like" actually means will make everything you do more effective, regardless of your approach.

So what does game-like actually mean?

The only truly game-like environment is 11v11. That's the game. Everything else — every drill, every small-sided game, every rondo — is a simulation. The question is how close to the real thing your simulation gets.

Think about what the actual game involves. There's direction — you're attacking a goal, you're in someone else's space trying to score, and they're trying to do the same to you. There's an opponent who's working against you. There are winners and losers. And there are rules — throw-ins, corners, goal kicks, fouls, offside. All of it.

But if you had to strip it down to one thing, I'd say the most important element is intensity.

I once lost a game 12-0 in a tournament. And I mean this when I say it — it was so quiet in the middle of that game you could literally hear cars starting in the parking lot. Zero intensity. Our opponent was just too strong, there was no chance of getting anything going, and the whole game became a non-event. That's about as far from game-like as you can get.

When I look at any training activity now, that's the lens I use. Is there intensity here? Is there something at stake? Does it feel like anything matters?

Why small-sided games work — and when they don't

Small-sided games work because you can get competition, direction, winners and losers, and real game moments all in one activity. A 4v4 to four goals, a 5v5 with target players — all of that builds towards intensity. And in play-practice-play sessions, the two playing phases give players real exposure to game situations, which translates directly to the weekend.

But here's the thing: small-sided games only deliver if you're managing them properly. The criticism — "they just play games, there's no coaching" — is sometimes valid. If your games don't have clearly identified winners and losers, if the teams aren't balanced, if there's no structure to the competition, then it does just become a playground kickaround. And the parents watching from the sideline would be right to question it.

Reward the winners. Don't punish the losers — losing is tough enough and you want them to care about the result naturally. But make it mean something. Who picks the pinnies? Who starts with the ball? Who gets to choose the next game? There are a hundred ways to make winning matter without making losing feel like punishment.

What about technical work?

If you're doing isolated skill work — everyone has a ball, working on a specific technique — how do you make that game-like?

Start with competition, even in individual work. Everyone has a ball, working on pullbacks — who can do the most in 30 seconds? Cheer them on, create a moment. That's not nothing. That's intensity in a different form.

But then ask yourself: how quickly can you get an opponent involved? Because here's the thing — a skill is only a skill if you can use it in the game. If you're working on pullbacks and the next activity is a face-up 2v2 where the ball is played in and you're looking at goal, a pullback is the worst thing you could do — you're going backwards toward your own net. The crowd would be going crazy. That's a disconnect between what you trained and what the game requires.

Think about the context before you pick the technique. Is this moment game-realistic? Would a player actually use this here? Because if what you practice in training has no logical home in the game, the translation won't happen. Players play how they practice, but only when what they practice looks like what they play.

The challenge

You get two, maybe three hours a week with your players. That's not much. My challenge to you is to make it as game-like as possible as quickly as possible in those sessions. That means competition from the first whistle. That means winners and losers that mean something. That means rules that mirror the real game.

And every time you're about to run something in training, just ask the one question: is it game-like?

Heads and Volleys Podcast, Episode 91

@LeeDunneSoccer

Soft Skills Win.

The Part of Coaching Nobody Talks About Enough

You can have the best session plan in the world. You can know your formation inside out, run a perfect warm-up, and nail every coaching point. But if your players don't feel seen, if their families don't trust what you're doing, and if your team is just a bunch of individuals who happen to wear the same kit — none of it matters as much as it should.

That's what soft skills are. Not the X's and O's. The relationships. The community. The stuff that turns a soccer season into something people actually remember.

Every player, every session

I talk about this a lot — the two-point contact rule. Every player, every training session, gets two moments with you. One coaching point: something specific to their game, a question about a decision they made, feedback they can actually use. And one personal connection: how was the vacation, what's the dog's name, how'd the school play go?

Doesn't sound like much. But across a 10-player session, that's 20 conversations. You start to know who these kids are — their home life, their friends, what motivates them, what's going on in their world. And when you know that, you coach them differently. Better.

Here's a small thing that makes a big difference: learn the parents' names. Ask the player. What's your mum's name? What's your dad's name? Got a brother or sister? Now instead of "hey, Mom" at pickup, you've got a name. That's a totally different interaction — and it goes a long way.

The performance environment

This one trips coaches up more than anything else. After years of running surveys at my club, the single most common complaint I read in family feedback is: "all they do is play games."

And I know, from watching these coaches, that they're doing really thoughtful work. They're coaching in the flow, they're connecting with players individually, they're running a games-based approach that we know develops soccer players. But the families haven't been told any of that — so they fill in the blanks themselves.

Here's the truth: parents care about their kids. Deeply. They want the best for them. And when they don't understand what's happening at training, they start comparing — to the other club on the next field where the kids are all dribbling around cones in a nice organized line. It looks structured. It looks like something. Even if it translates less to the game on the weekend.

Your job as a coach isn't just to run good sessions. It's to bring parents along with you.

On Monday, send a message. Not about the score. About the goals. Here's what we were working on this weekend, here's how we did, here's what we're building on this week. On Friday, send a preview. Here are the two goals for tomorrow's game — one attacking, one defensive. Here's what you should be watching for from the sideline.

When parents know what to look for, the whole sideline changes. Car rides home become conversations about what you were actually trying to do, not noise about who played where. You're not just coaching your players — you're quietly educating the people around them too.

Building an actual team

Players aren't a team just because they wear the same jersey. You've got to build it.

How many team events do you do? Pizza after a game, lunch on a Saturday, a trip to the beach when the field is closed, a 7-Eleven Slurpee run after a tournament game. These aren't extras. They're how players start to become something more than training partners.

I ask every family on my teams to coordinate one event for the year. One. Twelve players means twelve events, minimum. It can be as simple as bringing popsicles after practice. But now the families are part of the team — not spectators looking in.

Will everyone show up every time? No. But take a picture of the three families who do. Post it. "Sorry we missed you, hope to see you next time." Next time maybe four come. Then five. Build the momentum slowly and it compounds.

And when you understand what your players are actually there for — whether they're driven, competitive kids who want to go to college, or older players who just want to be around their friends and have a good time — you can coach to that. You stop trying to push the whole group in one direction when half of them are pointed somewhere else entirely.

The soft skills aren't a nice-to-have. They're what determines whether families re-enroll, whether players stay in the game, and whether your team actually becomes something worth being part of.

Get the relationships right, and the coaching gets easier. Every time.

Heads and Volleys Podcast, Episode 90

@LeeDunneSoccer