In 2008, aged 16, I signed for Lewes FC. The club was in ascendancy: newly promoted to the Conference, we had a new stand at the stadium (later paid for by selling our best players, but that’s another story), a new Under 18s coach, brought in from the Brighton and Hove Albion academy just down the road, and a new intake of what was, genuinely, the best squad of non-academy players in the south of England.
Most of them came from professional academies like Brighton, Bournemouth and Southampton, some released at the big jump from Under 16s to Under 18s, others who had the chance to carry on but turned it down (and if you’re wondering why they might reject something as fabled as an U18’s contract – known as a “scholarship” – at a top club by the way, it’s probably because that contract entitles you to the sum total of about £60 a week, mandatory residence in “digs” and a BTEC in Sports Bullshit that you have to take instead of college).
Some, like yours truly, came from non-league clubs, having never quite edged their way in on the ground floor. For four years I road-tripped around half the professional academies in the bottom-right corner of the country; three days a week my poor mum picking me up from school and, instead of heading home, handing me a sandwich, a protein bar and a sports drink and driving me two hours down the coast, or up to London, or sometimes just down the road. For those fours years I’d been consistently rejected. From Portsmouth, for a chap they flew in from Argentina, from Charlton Athletic for a lad from the USA, Fulham for the England U16s goalkeeper and from Brighton – twice – for a boy who, to be fair to him, was about twice my height and really very good. But I got into Lewes.
Source: Eurogamer I was in Football Manager and I don't know how to feel about it