St. George's Park, the FA's national football centre in Burton-upon-Trent, was a place that had always felt slightly intimidating to me. It was the cathedral of English football, a sprawling complex of immaculate pitches, state-of-the-art facilities, and a quiet, almost reverent atmosphere that reminded you of what the game was supposed to be about.
The Hilton hotel attached to the site rose above the tree line like a sentinel, and the indoor pitches gleamed under floodlights that never seemed to dim. Every major England squad, from the seniors to the youth teams, trained here.
Every coaching badge worth having in this country passed through these doors. I had been coming for the past year, attending the UEFA A Licence modules in intensive blocks, squeezing the coursework around the relentless demands of managing a Premier League football club.
