JOHN CAULFIELD CAN’T help himself.
Galway United’s training session is coming to an end but there is a brief break in play as one of the six-a-side teams is eliminated before the final game of Golden Goal.
Another goal has been wheeled down 12 yards from the penalty area to make a small-sided pitch, the width of which is from either side of the box.
It is a short, sharp and intense way to end a session that started at 4.30pm and is just a few minutes from finishing bang on 6pm.
It has to.
Dozens of young kids – around seven or eight – are gathered around the fencing waiting to come on for their slot to begin training.
Some are shivering in the cold, others have opted for an oversized Harry Potter hoodie instead of a training jersey.
They jeer and laugh and squish their faces through the gaps of the fencing in anticipation of getting to play.
Caulfield is just as giddy.
He strolls from the back of one goal, where he had been in conversation with midfielder Aodh Dervan, and finds space in the corner.
He calls for the ball.
The passer, hidden behind a few bodies preparing to start the final game, pings a diagonal ball into the air. It zips through the darkness and Caulfield is ready.
He adjusts his hips, watches it drop from beneath the glare of the floodlights and catches the volley sweetly on the instep of his Copa Mundials.
The ball sails over the bar.
If anything he’s caught it too well, a kind commentator might say.
The kids along the railings dare not make a sound.
His players are less forgiving.
“You have to pay a tenner for that!” one of them roars.
Caulfield would be due to pay into the kitty had he attempted the shot in the other goal and the ball ended up in the packed car park. That’s the fine which performance coach Danny Broderick clocked up earlier in the evening when he sliced one wildly over the netting.
Had they used the other end of the pitch and with the wind swirling the ball might have ended in Lake Corrib.
Welcome to Drome, home of Salthill Devon and, for the last few seasons, Galway United.
It’s deep in Gaeltacht Country with the floodlights on this pitch, not to mention the smaller astro cages that surround it, providing light on a dark Wednesday night.
Galway are back in the Premier Division after seven years and it’s also Caulfield’s return to the top flight following his departure from Cork City almost five years ago.
He took the Leesiders from also rans in 2013 to Dundalk’s only challengers in an absorbing rivalry that delivered a league title in 2017 as well as two FAI Cups.
Caulfield was brought to Galway in 2019 and last season delivered automatic promotion.
At 59 he will be the oldest manager in the League of Ireland this season. His 15 years and a record 455 appearances for Cork as a player add further weight to his credentials but this is not a man beaten down and beleaguered by the game.
It was only when he took the Cork manager’s job before that ’14 campaign that he entered full-time football. That is when he was able to give up his day job of 25 years as a sales rep for Diageo.
“Cause of my age people probably think I’ve been around for fucking ever,” Caulfield says.
“I say it to the players here all of the time. See where you are now, never underestimate what you are doing and how you can come into work. Fucking hell, this is the best time of your life. It is a great life on the pitch.
“It is an emotional job and you can find yourself scrapping but you have to live for it. You could soon be clocking into work and a different life. If we lose four games I could get the fucking sack and I might be back on the road again.”
Caulfield grew up as an Arsenal supporter and in his teens would travel alone from Roscommon to north London to visit an uncle who lived a 10-minute tube ride from Highbury.
When he was choosing a boarding school he made sure to find one that allowed pupils to play soccer, which is why he pestered his parents to send him to Summerhill College in Sligo after watching a programme on RTÉ about different schools around the country.
And while those regular visits to Arsenal in the 1970s, 80s and early 90s captivated him, it is the League of Ireland that stirs the soul now.
“The League of Ireland is the highest level of football in this country. They’re the facts. People compare it to other sports. No no, hold on a minute, lads. The people who are playing League of Ireland are the people playing the sport to the highest level in this country. It’s the same as any other fucking sport. It doesn’t matter if it’s our national sport, if it’s rugby.
“A League of Ireland footballer is playing to the highest level of the game in our country – that’s the reality. But the perception mightn’t be that. We don’t get a penny and the government has no interest, but if Roy Keane says he was going somewhere tomorrow half of the politicians would be down there wanting to stand beside him for a photograph.”
Caulfield’s passion is mirrored by that of his assistant, Ollie Horgan, whom he first came across during his time in amateur football with Avondale United when the Galway-born schoolteacher was in charge of Fanad United from Donegal.
Horgan became an established League of Ireland boss in his own right with Finn Harps over the last decade before coming on board as Caulfield’s right-hand man last season.
“Football is full of suspicion and people looking after themselves but with Ollie it was simple, he was someone who could make us better and help players improve,” Caulfield says.
That much is clear on the training pitch, as Horgan oversees the 11 v 11 game and makes his instructions clear, concise and, at times, calm.
“As soon as we lose the ball in this position you break your fucking bollox to get back,” he shouts.
Later, when a pressing pattern by the defending team is beaten, he stops the play and explains how this will happen at least three times in a certain area during a game, and then proceeds to give a more detailed explanation of where players will need to be on the pitch to ensure they are not overly exposed and allow for recovery.
Caulfield, eating a banana, watches from the side taking it in while a few more kids use the break in play to sprint across the far end of the half to reach one of the smaller astro pitches on the opposite side.
“You need to have people like Ollie with you who you trust,” the manager says. “He is so knowledgeable about players and how to improve them. That is what we have to do here, make lads better rather than worry about what they can’t do, because if they could do everything perfect in the first place they wouldn’t be fucking with us. I don’t want people saying what lads can’t do.”
Midfielder-cum-defender Garry Buckley was a cornerstone of the successful Cork sides under Caulfield before joining Sligo Rovers. He’s 30 now, a father of a two-year-old boy, and a wedding to his long-term partner later in the year to come.
The chance for a reunion with his old boss was too good to turn down.
“John’s No.1 trait is instilling belief and confidence in you,” Buckley, who is on clean up duty after training and must collect all of the lasagna containers, says.
“It’s standards, a winning mentality. You buy into it. I crave that feeling of winning, being competitive. I have that in me every week and it drives me. There’s an animal inside when you cross that white line.”
Caulfield has been battling to unearth that spirit in the club since he arrived, adjustments like training throughout the Racing Festival not going down well with some. “And I’m seen as the problem, hold on a fucking minute,” he says.
The billionaire Comer brothers took overall control in 2022 and while they provide financial stability the manager remains the only full-time member of staff with Horgan and the rest of his backroom juggling their day-job duties.
“I feel I understand the DNA of Cork people from living there for so long,” Caulfield says.
“It’s the Rebel City for a reason because they’re anti-everyone. I saw it all around me. Here is totally fucking different. It’s a festival city, a party city, there is huge wealth here with people. Some great people, fanatical. But for a lot it didn’t matter if the team lost.
“Now we’re on track, it took a few years but it’s about standards and bringing that mentality to the whole club.”
A few minutes after training finishes, Horgan is on the move to get in his car. His work is done and he offers his lasagna to The 42.
Caulfield retreats upstairs to an office across from where the players gather to have their food.
Goalkeeper Brendan Clarke is about to embark on his 22nd season in the League of Ireland, another season on the road given his wife and son are at home in Kildare. The 38-year-old is also chairperson of the Professional Footballers’ Association of Ireland but remains committed
“Because I love it, the satisfaction you get from being around the lads, playing games. Once you stop you’re done so I want that feeling for as long as possible.”
St Patrick’s Athletic head west for Galway’s big night this Friday.
Caulfield is determined to make it the first of many back in the Premier Division.