The Lord of the Ringers

By: Sean | March 12th, 2009

For the vast majority of us recreational footballers, our weekend matches are played for the love of the game. I would guess that most of us–sadly–do not get paid for our on-pitch heroics and our compensation is generally measured in pints (of beer), pulled hamstrings, and if we are really lucky, an occasional YouTube video clip. That lack of fiscal reward does not in any way diminish the importance of every match we play nor does it take away the will to try our best and win every time we pull on the boots. Our sparsely attended matches, for 90-ish minutes every week, are glorious in victory and deflating in defeat. Winning isn’t everything, but it sure is a lot more fun than losing…and any fortuitous personnel advantage we might gain for success is something to exult. Admit it, there is a little rush that follows when your manager introduces a new player and adds, “he used to play for [insert college, semi-professional, professional or national team here]“.

The Ringer. “Precious!”

For us amateurs, it doesn’t really matter where the ringer played except that it sounds even cooler when you brag to your footballing buddies later on. You can’t wait to feed them the ball and see what they can do. There is a sly joy in watching them dribble circles around hapless defenders or blast a monster shot at the opposition’s keeper. A good ringer will involve the rest of the team in the action and bring the collective level of play up a notch or two. There is usually a calmness in their actions that helps to settle the rest of the team. Eventually, the opposition will realize that this new player requires double and triple coverage to slow down and that frees up other players to get involved. It is almost like gaining an extra man advantage.

I have been fortunate enough to wear the same kit with a few true “ringers”. About two years ago one of my outdoor players brought his cousin (maybe in-law…I can’t remember) from Zimbabwe. He offered to play anywhere and so after twenty minutes or so I had him come on as a stopper because we were short of defenders. Within five minutes he had stolen the ball from the opposition in our box, dribbled through/around/past a half-dozen defenders and blasted a shot at the keeper. My recollection was that the shot was blocked, but in the time it took for the keeper to collect and punt, my ringer had ran all the way back to his position, intercepted the kick, and brought it back for a second attack. He finished with a brace and thus was born the “attacking stopper.” He has been with me for four seasons and led all scorers for our division last season. Even more than the two goal performance, I remember how his ability to control the ball, direct traffic, and draw defenders gave room for the rest of us to play. At one point our squad put together fifteen consecutive passes, an absolutely astonishing feat for us.

Currently, my indoor team features a former North American national team/professional player. Having someone with that experience and competitive drive has helped our squad score a lot of goals and sometimes single-handedly keep us in a match. He also helps us to keep the play simple and not get reckless with possession and try to do too much. It has been a great learning experience.

However, the expectations of a ringer can sometimes prove to be too much. Back when I was in the ninth grade, we heard from our coach the four greatest words a high school team can hear: Brazilian foreign exchange student. I remember the anticipation for this new player was so great I don’t think he even had to try out and his late arrival for daily doubles was pardoned. “Andre” (not his real name…or maybe it is) showed up for practice, kind of gangly and awkward. We watched him warm up, waiting for the clumsy movements to magically transform into a beautiful ballet of motion and speed.

We waited the whole damn season! He was terrible. Nice guy, don’t get me wrong, but he single-handedly dispelled the notion that all Brazilians were born with the gift of joga bonito. He couldn’t dribble, he couldn’t distribute (”You shall not pass!” Gandalf exclaimed). Hell, he couldn’t even run! Suffice to say, my freshmen year ended with us at the bottom of the table. Only later, in college and in the adult leagues, did I get to see the beautiful South American football that I had anticipated. Why couldn’t they have been foreign exchange students at North Salem High School!?

How about you, Weekend Warriors? Have you played with the “one ringer to rule them all?” Now is your chance to name drop that you got to play with [insert famous person here]. I’d love to hear about your (literal) brushes with greatness.

[Note: Despite his awkward appearance, Smeagol (pictured) is strangely effective on set plays inside the box. Unfortunately, he is red carded frequently for unsporting conduct, such as removing his jersey and biting the opposition's fingers off.]