The first time I played an organized game (9 or 10 years old) I was put in goal, given an old Flamengo shirt, like this one as my goalkeeper shirt, an old set of gloves, and was basically just told to keep the ball out of the goal.
Now, I would like to sit here and tell you that this decision was based on some sort of natural ability that somebody saw in me, but in reality most of the kids I was playing with had played before, I hadn't really, and I was willing to do it.
I have no real recollection of the game, let alone the score or how I performed, but I do remember my friends dad, who had given me the shirt said something along the lines of "you looked like you enjoyed that," and I had, it just made sense to me for some reason I couldn't explain. I went in to the little shop by the field, bought a pair of Brine goalie gloves with an elastic wristband, and that was it, I had a position, a role.
Of course, throughout my youth I always practiced with the rest of the team, as any other player, and to this day I am thankful for that. I sincerely believe that a goalkeeper shouldn't specialize in goalkeeper training until sometime around 16, and should always feel comfortable stepping out from the world of goalkeeping and be able to train and play in other positions. There are two practical reasons for not "just" being a goalkeeper. First of all is the simple issue of numbers, there is only one goalkeeper per side on the field at a time, and if you happen to have a team with multiple goalkeepers, playing on the field is a much more attractive option than sitting on the bench. More directly to do with goalkeeping itself, training in other positions simply makes you a better goalkeeper, you understand the game in a more complete way, you develop better touch and passing with your feet, which is an essential part of the modern game; when I play now (7 v7 indoor) I spend probably 3 or 4 times more time with the ball at my feet after a pass from a teammate than stopping a shot from an opponent.
The real question still lingers though, why? Why did I enjoy that first game, why did I continue in a position most players view as alien, a position that is often reserved for the least talented or least popular? Is it really as simple as some people say, are goalkeepers just crazy? Am I too deep into my own madness to recognize this? I leave questions of my overall sanity to others, but I can assure you I continue keeping goal because it offers a combination of rewards that outsiders don't realize at first. Goalkeeping is a complex love, it can make you feel like superman, and it will certainly crush you both in a physical manner and in an intensely brutal mental fashion.
Let's cover some things that I often hear people, mostly outsiders but occasionally fellow keepers, say about goalkeepers and goalkeeping. I claim no monopoly on feelings about this topic, and if another keeper tells you something about the position and I tell you differently, he certainly isn't wrong, just experiencing the position differently than myself.
The most common statement I here when it comes to goalkeeping is sympathetic to our plight, something along the lines of "you never get the credit you deserve since only your mistakes go on the scoreboard." While to a degree this is factually correct, the game is indeed scored by goals, which are bad moments for us keepers, there are two things that I find wrong with the comment. The first thing about the comment that isn't exactly right is that all the teams I have played for have noticed the good things; you form a bond with the other players, especially defenders, and they both know and appreciate when you are doing well, even the small things.
More to the point, the "people only notice your mistakes" comment really misses the point to a degree. I know when I put that jersey and those gloves on what I'm signing up for, I know I start at zero and have no place to go but down from there. I'm fully aware that there will be goals scored that I don't really have a chance to stop, believe me, this is not what gives goalkeepers nightmares. Don't be mistaken, I will still get mad, furious more accurately, for a moment regardless of how great the goal was, but really, that frustration is because I want my team to win, not because I feel I made a real mistake.
What people don't get about starting in a perfect position (0 goals against) with no place to go but further and further away from that perfection is the opportunity it presents. I start the game perfect, that means one thing to me, I have a realistic chance to end it the same way. Where else can you be perfect, in terms of score anyway? A striker can score 3 goals, but if 0 is perfect for me, that means infinity is perfect for him, it is unattainable.
A related phenomenon is that as a goalkeeper, I can have a pretty slow, boring day at the office and still achieve my goal. A defender has to win balls, a midfielder has to distribute, a striker has to score, but since I start at perfect, I can do a pretty small amount of work and come away with a clean sheet, a shut-out.
Now let me fill you in on what really makes it all worth it, all the nervous energy, the riding the wave of a mental breakdown, the pressure cooker of being the last chance: simply put, when that ball is flying to the corner and you get a big enough piece of it to make a save, you are instantly the all-conquering hero and the ultimate bad guy.
I could sit here and lie to you, tell you I just love the pure joy that comes from keeping out a goal, but it's darker than that, I enjoy ruining the other guys day. Just think of it, the other team goes through all the hard work to get the ball in a scoring position, the shot clearly looks headed for goal, the celebrations have already started, and then something happens, it's like I get to cheat them out of all of it, I get to take it all away in a blink of an eye. They were about to turn in their term paper, and I get to close it without saving, it's all gone, it's over before they even know how it happened. The stages of grief are instantaneous, they deny it happen, they are angry at themselves me and the universe for what just happened, they bargain to some unseen force with a confused look and arm motions, they hang their heads in depression, and then they start that slow walk back up the field.
Now despite that last paragraph, I am not a sadist, the other guy being sad isn't the end goal, it's the power that I got to do that, seemingly through some sort of dark magic. It's the suddenness of it, the finality, the mystery.
Let us also not forget the joy though, it truly is special, the look of your teammates, their gratitude, the relief, the disbelief, you can't buy that. Internally the reaction is slightly different, at first it is primal, a scream, not of joy, but just of being alive of announcing to the universe what has just transpired. Slowly as you come back down to Earth, you are slightly dumbfounded at what just happened, because really you didn't make that save a second ago, you made it slowly over the years. Yes, you consciously put yourself in the right position, weighing the risks of every scenario and how it relates to your stance, but the reaction is pure instinct, it's zen-like. The body simply takes over, using the proper form you have had drilled into your brain by countless hours of slow, boring work. What hand goes where for when the ball is high or low, to catch it or to deflect it, to get back up, this all happens without really thinking about it. When it all goes right, there really are no words to describe it that don't sound cliche or fake, so I will end this here, with the hope of providing some insight as to why I play goalkeeper.
Oh, and if your interested I have two videos for you to check out, first is my inspiration as I was growing up, Oliver Kahn
The second is in my opinion, and most others, the greatest goalkeeper in the world currently, Iker Casillas.
Your final paragraph is exactly how I feel about being a goalkeeper, it is that primal instinct which gives me the ultimate buzz. My best ever saves I know virtually nothing about, it's all instinct.
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