The following is an extract from Away Days: Thirty Years of Irish Footballers in the Premier League by Gareth Maher
Time is a curious thing in the world of Seamus Coleman
He believes that being punctual is a virtue. He insists on sharing moments with fans until they have had their fill. He makes the most of every second walking across a hotel lobby, airport terminal or stadium car park to enthusiastically greet those whose eyes lock on to him. He wakes each morning with his mind drawing up plans for how he can maximise his day and give as much as he can to his club and country. He spends afternoons and evenings running after his children or checking in with them via FaceTime when work takes him on the road.
Time is something that Coleman gives to everyone, yet it is the one thing that people tell him that he is running out of. Well, they don’t exactly tell him but rather tweet it or write it or whisper it when he’s not around. They say that his Premier League adventure is about to end. That makes him laugh because he was never meant to have made it to this level, never mind tough it out for 13 successive seasons. So time is a commodity that he respects and never takes for granted.
Our conversation takes place in Castleknock Hotel during an afternoon off from the Republic of Ireland camp. Except Coleman has divided his “time off” to cater for others. He does steal an hour for yoga in the morning before going for lunch with team-mates and then turning up for this interview. Everything is perfectly planned so that he has enough time to complete each task and then not be late for dinner when the squad reassembles. This is typical of the man, always respectful of the clock.
There is so much to chat about with Coleman, who is arguably one of Ireland’s most successful players of the Premier League era despite not picking up any winners’ medals with Everton. The longevity alone is something to marvel at, especially when one takes into account that he missed a year with a serious leg break and that his club have tried and tested many competitors in his right-back position. He has seen them all off.
His leadership qualities stand out and were shaped by his upbringing in the small fishing town of Killybegs, Co Donegal
Between the timekeeping, the work ethic, the passion and the fact that he is one hell of a footballer, Coleman makes the perfect captain. He insists that he would be the same whether or not he were in possession of a captain’s armband. Yet his leadership qualities stand out and were shaped by his upbringing in the small fishing town of Killybegs, Co Donegal.
It’s clear he doesn’t take the role of captain lightly. “I think when you have been somewhere for so long you feel things more, no matter if you are a captain or not. I don’t want to sound like ‘Mr Everton’ here but I don’t just go home after training or a game and say ‘that’s work done’. It’s everything you’re thinking about. Obviously you spend time with your family and kids, but after that it’s all you think about.
“I think [the nature of] captaincy and management has changed over the years. Before you might have been able to say how it is, or rule with an iron fist but now it’s maybe a case of putting your arm around the shoulder a bit more. What motivates a player has changed, so you’ve got to know your team-mates and know how to manage them. There is a lot of one-to-one talks, especially when someone signs for the club, or text messages after a bad run of form, or text messages if a player ends up scoring after having a tough time, just always letting them know that you are there for them through the good and bad.
“For me, it’s important when a player comes to the club that they are made to feel welcome. As a captain, I feel it’s my responsibility for players to feel part of it all, to feel part of the club. Sometimes you have players with family on the other side of the world who they haven’t seen in a long time and even though you can’t do much for them, it’s important for them to know that you are there for them.”
Surely, though, it is a challenge to connect with a player whose first language might not be English?
Coleman is more than obliging, giving the stranger just the right amount of time to be courteous without it becoming awkward for either
Coleman insists there is always a way to make a difference. It could be a friendly smile, a fist bump, an arm around the shoulder or even a simple text message that can be translated instantly via Google.
As captain, it is Coleman’s job to set the standard on the pitch and the mood off it. When asked what traits he expects of each of his team-mates, it is hardly a coincidence that the first thing that he turns to is time-keeping. “Be on time, be respectful, train hard, give it everything in every game, be appreciative of the staff and people around the club,” says Coleman. “All of that, for me, will always go back to my parents ... saying please, thank you, treating people right. I’ve carried that through my football career. You can respect people but you can call people out when they’re not doing their job.”
Our conversation is interrupted. A hotel guest, who has circled around us twice to confirm that it is indeed the Ireland skipper sitting there in the foyer to the patio dining area, plucks up the courage to ask for a selfie.
Coleman is more than obliging, giving the stranger just the right amount of time to be courteous without it becoming awkward for either. You would think this sort of distraction would have become incredibly tiresome for Coleman after so many years, yet he greets every fan with the same level of enthusiasm.
The way that he interacts with people goes some way to explain why he has remained loyal to Everton. In an era when players collect more clubs than points on their grocery shopping, it is bizarre that Coleman has actually been criticised for not looking to move away from a club that has treated him so well — and vice versa.
“To get to the level that I got to is not something I ever thought I would get to. When I was at St Catherine’s in Donegal, that was my club. When I was at Sligo Rovers, that was my club. And when I moved on to Everton that became my club. I had a great manager at the time in David Moyes who ensured that you never got ahead of yourself, that you were earning your stripes every single day. I had that at Sligo with Paul Cook and it stuck with me. But I suppose it’s just the person I am, that I work hard every day to get into the team and to stay in the team.
I never wanted to disrespect the football club by being that type of player who hands in a transfer request because I didn’t get my way
— Seamus Coleman
“Everton signed a lad from Sligo for £60,000 or whatever the fee ended up being, they gave me a chance without a trial and looked after me immensely when I was over there. I had gone to Celtic and Burnley on trial, but the longer that I was at Everton I really loved it and my family got settled there. So I wouldn’t say it was a lack of ambition [about not moving on], I think it’s more my personality that I was not going to be knocking on the chairman’s door saying ‘you have to make this [move] happen’. I never wanted to disrespect the football club by being that type of player who hands in a transfer request because I didn’t get my way.
“But I’m not naive enough [not] to know that there will come a time when I will have to go, when I’m not good enough anymore and the club looks to bring someone in. But I never think that I should’ve went here or should’ve went there.”
It’s not just that Coleman has been afforded plenty of game-time or enjoyed hearing the fans sing his name — his love for the club is far more deep-rooted. In March 2017, he suffered a horrific leg break while playing for Ireland against Wales and there were immediate fears that his career was in jeopardy. It was bad timing as the defender had been due to formalise a contract extension with Everton before that international window. The club, understandably, could have had second thoughts.
Coleman explains: “I came away with Ireland and broke my leg. I was due to sign a contract in the week before I went away ... I don’t know why it didn’t happen, I don’t know why I didn’t sign that week. Maybe I said I would do it when I came back or the chairman said to go away with Ireland and sign it when I came back. But I was about to sign a five-year contract, everything was agreed and then I broke my leg. I think it was the second night I was in hospital when I got a phone call from the chairman saying: ‘Don’t worry, son, get yourself right and that contract is still waiting for you here when you come back.’ Maybe I’m wrong but I don’t think a lot of clubs would’ve had that response. I think they would’ve been in the background going, ‘we’ve offered him this but let’s take some off it and give [him] that’. But nothing changed, the contract was sitting there waiting for me when I got back to the club a month later. Things like that I don’t think you can forget.”
The topic switches from loyalty to motivation. Even someone of Coleman’s boundless positivity must find it difficult to maintain a level of consistency when arrows of criticism get sharper and closer with each misplaced pass or crushing defeat. While he insists that he remains as committed as ever, it is quite another thing for team-mates who may be spoilt by handsome wages and lucrative bonuses.
“I do think along the way money and success can dampen that fire in the belly a little bit. So you have to make sure that lads don’t lose that. For me, personally, I go out every single day to impress the team-mate beside me, the manager and the coaches. I still feel like that 17-year-old every single day.
“I suppose when you had to earn contracts to feed your family, or whatever the case may be, you couldn’t sulk, you had to find a way to get into the team. Now, players across the board are on big contracts and whether they play or don’t play they are getting paid regardless. Their ego might not want to let them show that they care so it’s a bit of chest-out bravado: the manager doesn’t pick me [therefore] I don’t like him or I don’t like that. That’s the side of it that you see that you don’t like and it’s not just at Everton, it’s across the board in the Premier League ... you see it with players falling out with managers all of the time. But if you had to fight to get into that starting XI [in order to get a good salary], like it was in the early nineties, then it would be a different story.”
Some of the learning has to happen in real-time during a game, when, he insists, timing is everything
Another thing that has changed with time is the quality that the Premier League has ascended to. Tactically it has become more complex, technically it has become more advanced and physically it has become more draining. As a result, Coleman has to constantly adapt his own game. He does his homework on the iPad, watching clips of opponents, downloading the insights that the club’s performance analyst provides, and asking the right questions in team meetings. Yet some of the learning has to happen in real-time during a game, when, he insists, timing is everything — when to go forward, when to hold a position, when to intercept, when to check inside.
“When I first came into the Premier League, you might’ve been up against a left-footed left winger and that’s what you’re up against for the game. But now you go to somewhere like Man City away and, my God, you don’t know whether you are coming or going. They have players in here, out there, left-backs coming inside, midfielders going wide. Everyone now is fast, fit and strong. Even players who are not the most talented in the Premier League are still a threat because of the physicality. It’s a tough, tough league. It’s a game for 90 minutes where you can’t switch off. Shuffling as a backline, shuffling as a midfield just to close the gaps, but a team like Man City have so much quality that it’s difficult to keep them out for the 90 minutes. But in saying that you wouldn’t want it any other way, it’s the league to be in. It’s the best league in the world.”
Again, we are interrupted and, again, Coleman rises to his feet with a bounce in his step. This time a grandfather wants to introduce his grandson to Coleman. The boy, probably nine or 10 years old, is shy or perhaps a little overawed at meeting a Premier League footballer. Coleman has picked up a few tricks through the years, however, and engages with the boy as if they are lifelong friends. The grandfather beams in delight.
It is a mark of the man that he has not forgotten the boy he was. When he sees kids with a football under their arm or at their feet, he wants to treat them the same way he would have liked his footballing heroes to have been with him.
“You have to remember where you are [from]. You have to remember being that little five- or six-year-old who spent hours and hours kicking the ball against the wall. Remembering the young lad playing for St Catherine’s who gave everything that he possibly could. And the lad who went to Sligo and the manager who told him ‘no’, but you never gave up. If you don’t remember all of that it will be gone quick enough because it’s a short career.
“There’s good days and bad days, but you can’t lose that fire in the belly because if you do then there’s no point in kicking a ball anymore. I can remember my dad finishing a night shift in the hotel, getting back in the car to drop me off for training at Sligo for the week but we found out after training that we were off the next day. So I rang Dad, who had just driven the hour-and-a-half back home, to tell him I’m off. He came back for me, with a nudge from my mum to help ... she always played a big part in things, both of my parents did. You can’t forget all of the sacrifices that other people have made for you to be where you are.”
One final point: “The love I have for the game will never go.” And that’s it, time’s up on the interview. Coleman needs to check back in with his squad and resume his duties as captain. But before he departs, he asks: “Did you get enough time?”
- Away Days: Thirty Years of Irish Footballers in the Premier League is available now in all good bookstores
