The Gentle Slope Down
Distraction, comfort and the erosion of attention.
“Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one—the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.
Your affectionate uncle,
Screwtape”- The Screwtape Letter, C.S. Lewis
The devil at work—and my goodness, has he been having a field day in modern times.
The proliferation of social media, a topic already beaten to death, doesn’t need full discussion here. Instead, let it serve as a reference point—a symbol of the broader erosion of focus. With the explosion of communication and the speed at which it travels came the obvious exploitation of core human fears: the fear of missing out, the fear of not being good enough, the fear that we’re falling behind. Add to that the comparison game, the public flaunting of beauty, and the illusion that more is always better. More friends, more gear, more followers, more hearts, more money—more of anything that can be counted and posted. The town crier now stands on every digital corner in the world, shouting for attention.
And we oblige. Freely.
The youngest among us were least prepared. With little lived experience and still-forming identities, they were handed devices under the well-intentioned (but deeply flawed) belief that they were tools for survival in a modern world. But with those devices came the spread of desire. Just like the proverbial Jones’ chasing a bigger TV because the neighbour got one, now the battleground of status wasn’t confined to cities or schools. It reached every place a screen could be carried. Sport wasn’t immune, if anything, it became a perfect arena to sell the dream harder. What better place than among the fittest and fastest to push the buttons of envy and ambition? After all, we all wanted to Be Like Mike, didn’t we?
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Each week I write to support coaches and fans of the beautiful game to see beyond simply tactics and into the whole human experience that the game evokes. This is The Art of Football Project.
Past articles you might like:
César Luis Menotti: The Philosopher Who Coached with His Heart
He Told Me to F##k Off… So I Gave Him the Captain’s Armband
Paul Gascoigne: The Genius Who Couldn't Be Tamed
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Ronaldo boots. Messi jerseys. Video software endorsed by Mourinho. Social media clips from the weekend—just your goal, just your moment. Gym selfies with timestamped proof that you’re grinding. YouTube study sessions. Journaling your post-match emotions. Obsessing over GPS scores and spinning your mental wheels around every piece of feedback, real or imagined.
Everything designed to push you to make the show.
Everything, that is, except playing football and falling in love with the process.
Distraction is the enemy.
The gradual slope toward emptiness.
A taste of everything, with little depth and even less fulfillment.
“I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.”
— Bruce Lee
Footballers become better footballers by playing football. The key is continuing to focus on what matters most, and spending the majority of your time there. Progress requires both attention and challenge.
If focus is the engine,
Challenge is the terrain,
and Love, for the game, for the craft, for the act of getting better, is the fuel.
We are not just coaches; we are guides and models. And we must ask ourselves honestly: how can we expect players to improve when so much of our own attention is given to GPS units, video reviews, and showcasing, rather than time on the ball?
This is not a dismissal of the modern tools. Data, video, and technology can all be powerful when put in context. But, like only winning in youth football, they are support beams, not the foundation. The centre of player development is still football.
Or, as my comrade says:
“It’s about the football, stupid.”
Our job is to enhance love for the game, no matter the age. To direct focus toward what matters, and to consistently provide the kind of challenge that pushes players further than they knew they could go. That’s the art of coaching, in my view. And a key part of that art is providing more football than most kids get today.
Forgo the showcase tournament.
Go hit the ball against a wall.
Better yet, play 2v2 with friends.
More joy. More touches. More learning.
The player’s work is to learn where to place their time and attention, and to seek challenges that invite growth. They must learn to welcome difficulty as a necessary step on the journey toward mastery, whatever mastery means to them.
There is no meaningful progress on the gentle slope with soft ground. The journey demands friction. And through that friction, players fall in love with the process.
The one kick practiced 10,000 times isn’t just about performance. It’s about discovering who you really are. Without focus, you can never truly find out what lies within you, not in football, and not in life.
It seems to me that we are unconsciously training our players to become more distracted. And in doing so, we are neglecting our role as mentors and guides. We must help them rediscover focus, embrace challenge, and fall in love with the journey; their own journey.
So put down the GPS tracker.
Close the spreadsheet.
Lock up the video camera.
And build a week of the best football sessions you can imagine.
Be the model.
Distractions be damned.
Football first.
It’s time to find hard ground and a steep incline—and to fill it with as many worthy obstacles as we can muster.
Because the enemy awaits, if we don’t start climbing, with intensity and clarity of purpose.
Thanks for reading,
Will
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