Despite grassroots football being full of countless positives — from community spirit to character building — and with rapidly increasing participation thanks to the massive commercialisation of the top-tier game, the scene still silently suffers many challenges that are overlooked or ignored. From teenage drop-offs to digital distractions, grassroots football is facing a participation paradox: more numbers, but less staying power.
Participation within grassroots is often seen as a non-issue. It's growing. Many parents are signing their kids up for clubs at ages as young as four. That's great — but the data and the vibe at pitch-side tell a different story as kids get older. There are countless, often invisible factors that have emerged in recent years and they quietly chip away at commitment and longevity. Once kids hit their mid-teen years — my age — you start to notice something changing. Motivation dips. Rebellion kicks in.
When kids are younger, they're easier to guide. Early bedtimes. Screen-time limits. A clear structure set by parents so they're fresh for a 9am kick-off. But as they get older, those boundaries loosen. Curfews disappear. Sleep routines go out the window. Suddenly you've got teenagers turning up to games half-asleep, or not turning up at all. You see them drifting — physically present maybe, but mentally elsewhere. And when they do show up, it’s often on fumes.
Although participation may be high among under-9s, it drops significantly as players move into their teens. Why? Part of it is rebellion, yes. But the other part is disillusionment. Many kids join grassroots football dreaming of becoming the next Messi or Ronaldo. It's part of the magic. You lace up your boots believing anything is possible. But somewhere along the way, that dream starts to fade.
Reality creeps in. You start realising how rare it is to make it to the top. That doesn't mean you lose love for the game, but when the big dream disappears, so can the drive. The extra training, the early nights, the discipline — it can suddenly feel like a burden. And when the only reason you played was to be the best, it's easy to walk away when you realise you're not.
First of all, kids don't make all the decisions. If a child is desperate to play football but their parent doesn't have the time, energy, or money to support it, they're out of luck. Grassroots may seem accessible, but for some families, it's still too expensive — match fees, kits, travel, the time commitment. It all adds up. And that means some kids never get the chance to even start their journey.
Then there's the digital dilemma. The rise of technology — smartphones, tablets, video games, streaming — has shifted how kids spend their time. When I was younger, I had a strict one-hour screen time limit on my iPad. After that, boredom kicked in. And that boredom led me outside. I begged my mum to sign me up for football. I practised in the garden, dribbling between trees I imagined were defenders, wearing down the grass in perfect desire paths.
But for today's kids, boredom is almost extinct. With access to endless content and entertainment, there's always a dopamine hit just one tap away. Why get muddy and tired when you can play FIFA instead? Why run sprints when you could lie on the sofa, headphones in, escaping into another world?
It's not that kids don't love football. Many still do. But the barrier to trying it, to committing to it — that barrier has grown. And it's made of pixels, notifications, and algorithms designed to keep them inside.
Social pressure plays a part too. Football, for some, becomes uncool. Or too serious. Or too competitive. If you're not “good enough” by a certain age, the pressure to keep going can make it feel like there's no point. Combine that with teenage self-doubt, fragile confidence, and a growing desire to fit in — and you've got the perfect storm for dropout.
Let's not forget injuries and burnout. Some players get pushed too hard too young. Multiple clubs. Academy trials. Training five nights a week. It becomes too much. What began as joy turns into a job. And when the fun goes, the player often follows.
Clubs, coaches, and parents can all play a part. Making the experience enjoyable for everyone, not just the best players, is key. Creating flexible playing formats. Embracing late bloomers. Reducing financial barriers. Encouraging creativity over rigid tactics. Giving kids the space to grow — not just as players, but as people.
We also need to talk more about why we play. Not every player is going to become a superstar — and that's okay. Football isn't just a launchpad to the Premier League. It's about belonging, identity, health, joy, freedom. It's about cold mornings, muddy boots, inside jokes, and those rare, perfect goals that feel like magic.
We have to protect that.
Because while the participation numbers might look good, we can't afford to be fooled. If we ignore the silent drop-offs, the creeping distractions, the barriers at the gate — we'll wake up one day to find the heart of football hollowed out.
And without grassroots, football is nothing.
If you've made it this far, thank you for reading! Football is so much more than what happens on the pitch, and it's time we talk more about the mental battles that define players' careers. If this article resonated with you, share it with your teammates, coaches, and fellow football fans. Let's keep the conversation going and help more young players navigate the game's toughest challenges. Stay tuned for more on Pitch Side Journal—and see you back here soon!
