“Catch the damn ball…”

That was the only message running through my head as I walked off the field past the head coach and found my spot on the bench. It was the third game in a row I had hesitated—but this time it cost us a goal. As a number 1, that’s a mistake you don’t always get the luxury of working through.

I watched from the end of the bench as my team lost in penalty kicks, with a young second-choice goalkeeper taking the brunt of my mistake. In that moment, it hit me hard: indecisiveness is the killer of great actions. Reacting is always slower than acting, and as a 17‑year‑old goalkeeper, I was learning fast that if I wanted to keep my spot, I had to regain my confidence—and my voice. The only thing worse than not knowing what to do next is not having anyone to guide you through it.

Looking back now, I wish I’d had a coach who could’ve pulled me aside—not to yell “catch the damn ball”—but to teach me what I actually needed: the habits, confidence, and communication that make the game slow down. I wish someone had shown me how to trust my decisions, how to use my voice, and how to build the presence that turns hesitation into action. That gap in my own development is why I’m so committed now to becoming that coach for others—helping young keepers find their identity, their bravery, and ultimately, their keeper call.

That’s why this series is called “Give a Keeper Call.” Across the coming posts, I’m going to share the stories, lessons, and moments—both good and brutal—that shaped my journey from a young, uncertain goalkeeper to a Head of Goalkeeping at a massive youth club. My hope is simple: whether you’re a keeper or a keeper coach, something here will help you find your voice, too.

Communication is not just your voice; it is your presence.

We used this word all the time when I was a collegiate goalkeeper coach during recruiting: presence. A solid goalkeeper has presence. You don’t have to be 6’4” to have it. Goalkeepers with presence are commanding and in control. They don’t hit the panic button. They are calculated and clinical in their decision‑making. Right or wrong, they stick to what they’re doing.

I tell my goalkeepers now that I’d rather you try to make a play—and we review it on Monday—than do nothing because you were afraid of making a mistake.

Communication is holistic. It is vocal in nature, but it must be backed by action. How can we expect our teammates to trust us if we don’t command their trust?

I think we’d all be surprised how many more plays we would make if we just started one yard higher on a cross, kept one foot forward before retreating to our line, or put our body through traffic at the near post. Presence isn’t just your voice, but your voice becomes more powerful when you understand your physical and tactical presence on the pitch.

When we organize our team tactically in the buildup or defensively on set pieces, we’re giving ourselves the chance to make the plays we’re supposed to and a chance at the ones we aren’t.

My suggestion for goalkeepers:

Train your voice in training.
 Create the game in your head. Play it live. Talk it out.

Shout “AWAY!” on the missed service.
Call “KEEPER’S!” on the ball you spilled.

If you don’t build the habit now, you’ll never do it on the weekend.

My suggestion for coaches:

Instill these habits in your goalkeepers. Their voice grows from their actions—from confidence earned through repetition, bravery, and support.

They won’t read every through ball or cross correctly. That’s okay. They need to know they’re allowed to make decisions and live to learn from them. The game is the ultimate teacher, and matchday is where presence shows itself—not where it hides.

Goalkeepers, your voice matters.

It can tip a match. It can relieve pressure. It can build trust.
Calling for a cross, demanding the ball back to start the attack—this is more than talking.
This is commanding the game.
This is your presence.

Coaches: your voice matters too.

Our goalkeepers need us. Teammates who have never played the position might not understand what our keepers process in milliseconds. That’s why it’s on us to train their voice with ours.

Be the coach you needed. Give them the tools you needed. Let your voice be the one echoing in their head on matchday:“Your ball. You got this. Call Keeper!”

Three things I wish a coach had taught me—and you can teach tomorrow:

  • How to create the game in your head, play it live, and talk it out
  • How to believe they can do it—and then show them they can
  • How to build them up; they can make that save, and frankly, they have to

I hope you find a home here in these blogs. The GK Union is real, and if you’re not in it yet, let this be your invitation. I hope you find your voice—whether you’re a coach, a player, or someone in a goalkeeper’s life.

Your voice matters. Your presence matters.

Until next time,
Coach G