Congratulations to Ciaran Myers, Jake Pearce, Raff Tindale, Grace Laidler, Isabelle Martin, Olivia Morgan, Daniel Casallas Beltrán, Billy Taylor and George Townsend who have been shortlisted for our three awards.
Jim White of the Telegraph and FWA National Executive Committee announces our final nine contestants. Their entries are below:
It was no easy task. But our esteemed panel of judges – including writers such as Adam Crafton, Jason Burt, Michael Calvin, Suzanne Wrack, Sami Mokbel, Riath Al-Samarrai and Alysson Rudd – have come up with their shortlists for the 2026 FWA Student Football Writer of the Year awards. Congratulations to those who made it. To reach the final three in each category is some achievement in a year in which we received more entries of a higher standard than ever. Well done all.
One thing: this year we ran all of the longlisted submissions through a programme to seek out AI assistance. Unfortunately a couple of pieces appeared to have been more than a little aided by software. At the FWA our sole preference is for human generated copy. So those pieces were marked down accordingly.
Here are the top three in each category, all written the right way. The winning entries will be revealed here on Friday 15 May and the winners will receive their trophies at the FWA Footballer of the Year dinner on Tuesday 19 May.
FWA Hugh McIlvanney Student Football Writer of the Year Top Three
Ciaran Myers, University of Sunderland
If you were to play bingo of ‘things you might see around a football ground in 2026’, then half-and-half scarves and £120 replica shirts would all be boxes you would most likely tick off with ease. Someone attempting to sell a fanzine, however, would likely leave at least one square stubbornly blank.
In the digital age, print is struggling. While this has been discussed in terms of local and national newspapers at length, it has also affected the forgotten fanzine publisher. Often a maverick, an individual who dared to bring some creativity and humour to the matchday experience. This character has become lost amongst a sea of Instagram-focused tourists and youths who have only seen newspapers wrapped around their chips.
Peter Slater authors the Football Fanzine Culture blog and has recorded 75 fanzines that continue to be published today. While at the movement’s peak, publications like The Gooner would sell 20,000 copies a week. Today, even long-standing ‘zines, such as Middlesbrough’s Fly Me to the Moon, struggle to shift more than 300. So, how has this happened?
Slater explained that the fanzine culture was born as a product of a punk culture that was prevalent in the 1980s. “Punk had changed the attitude of people towards music and brought into this DIY, anybody could do it attitude. And that washed over into football, and into self-publishing.”
Martyn McFadden, editor and co-founder of Sunderland fanzine, A Love Supreme also acknowledged the self-starter attitude of those who created the publications. He told me: “It was the whole DIY, independent record label sort of ethos. It was where you just produced something yourself and that’s your art and passion.”
As Slater identified in one of his blog posts, ‘self-publishing was enabled by changes in technology. The printing and copying devices now available created a second Gutenberg movement’.
If that was the second Gutenberg movement, then the birth of the internet and fan forums can be seen as the third. Many fanzines moved onto forums, effectively ending their printing days. Slater said: “The internet came along and forums did what fanzines did a lot better so everybody just moved. It was just much easier to go onto a forum.”
Today a fanzine seller is a rarity. They are so few in number that they may soon warrant a David Attenborough documentary. Those that have survived have had to be adaptable and display great levels of perseverance; many now produce a printed ‘zine less frequently.
Rob Nicholls continues to sell Fly Me to the Moon outside the Riverside but since COVID has reverted to a subscription model. His biggest issue now is the cost of stamps, which is more than printing the actual fanzine. When I spoke to Rob, he had just posted issue 6655 to his subscribers. Fly Me to the Moon is the longest-running fanzine in England, having surpassed Stoke City’s Oat Cake last season. Despite this, declining interest in the ‘zine has almost led him to stop production.
He said: “We were selling less and less. At the end of one season, about seven years ago, we were going to pack it in but people said, ‘do it every month, don’t do it for every match’.”
The subscription model has been a success but comes with its own difficulties. “It breaks even but the main challenge has been the cost of the stamps.”
McFadden has also had moments of doubt over the continuation of A Love Supreme. “There’s been a lot of times over the years where we could have stopped,” he said. To fund their shop, located a stone’s throw from the Stadium of Light, they have had to be innovative. Now, much of their revenue comes through selling merchandise and organising coach travel to away games.
Despite this, there is still some hope of a possible revival; two new fanzines have been set up this season. Over the Boundary at Oldham has been relaunched as well as A View from the East Bank, a Sheffield Wednesday ‘zine. The latter an act of protest against former owner Dejphon Chansiri.
As football supporters become increasingly disillusioned with how their clubs are run, there is a chance that more fanzines will pop up to fight for supporters’ interests.
Author Daniel Gray remains hopeful for the future of fanzines. He said: “I don’t think they’ll ever go away. I do detect a bit of a renaissance because people are so fed up of being on screens all day and all night and just having a little booklet in your back jeans pocket is coming back in with some people.”
It is improbable that the fanzine culture will ever return to its peak, but the modern football experience would benefit from thought-out, witty and entertaining literature being more present on match-days again
Jake Pearce, Southampton Solent
“Neil (Warnock) came into the game and then mentioned that his wife had a dream that I was going to score so I was going to start upfront. There was almost giggles in the dressing room, it was almost like a free hit for us all.”
“Then suddenly the hat-trick happened so quickly. It didn’t feel real. It was just funny, a surreal moment.”
For most football fans, 2nd February 2010 is just another date. For Danny Butterfield, it became the night he was thrown into the strangest of Neil Warnock’s experiments — and somehow produced the fastest hat-trick in Crystal Palace history.
A right back by trade, a dependable presence, a fan favourite: nothing about Butterfield suggested he should be leading the line in an FA Cup tie. Yet there he was, pushed up front because Warnock’s wife had dreamt he would score.
Warnock trusted the dream anyway. The first half was rough. “I remember the first half being terrible. I was terrible and I’m thinking I need to pull my finger out a little bit and start running around a bit.”
What followed was six minutes and 48 seconds of chaos — left foot, right foot, header — a perfect hat-trick that would follow him for the rest of his career.
But those six minutes tell only a fraction of who Danny Butterfield was.
He grew up “football mad”, but his path was anything but smooth. “I was all over. I was a bit of a gypsy in academy football.” Peterborough, Nottingham Forest, Leicester — and finally Grimsby, the club that took a chance on him.
“I went on trial as a centre forward… and there was an opportunity through injury to play right back in the first team.” His debut arrived suddenly. “I had to jump in the car with the first teamers… And they said that I am going to start tomorrow.”
He would go on to make 124 appearances for the Mariners, including a famous night at Anfield. “It was madness… we massively rode our luck, but then Phil Jevons came up with an unbelievable winner.” Butterfield still calls it “one of the biggest achievements” of his career.
A contract mishap allowed him to leave on a free, and Crystal Palace moved quickly. “It’s like your first day of school, because the first thing you know is you’ve been signed to take someone’s place.” But he found instant camaraderie with fellow new signings Andy Johnson, Shaun Derry and Dele Adebola. “We all became really good pals… it was unique that we all signed in a short space of time and remained friends.”
Palace became home. Across nearly a decade, he lived through promotions, relegation battles, and the club’s darkest chapter: administration in 2010.
Butterfield remembers the strain vividly. “Its hard because the club becomes split… The fans think the club is going out of business… the realism in it is you’re not getting paid.” Some teammates couldn’t afford petrol to get to training. Yet he never considered leaving. “It never crossed my mind to leave Palace, it made me do the opposite and want to stay and fight.”
When his contract expired, he dropped to League One to join Southampton — a move that proved far more ambitious than it looked. “I knew they had a good set of young players and I thought I could add experience to that.” The squad surged, and Butterfield became a guiding presence. Under Mauricio Pochettino, he began to see the game differently. “He knew that I was a big character… so he brought me even closer even though I wasn’t playing for him.”
Coaching soon became the natural next step. At Exeter, Paul Tisdale trusted him to lead sessions. “I was taking some of the young players for an afternoon session… I was probably wearing staff kit more than the playing kit.”
From there came roles at Southampton’s academy and MK Dons, with all the highs and lows of the profession. The lifestyle was demanding. “You find you are on your own quite a lot, and you miss your kids growing up a little bit too.”
Now taking a break after leaving Eastleigh, Butterfield is clear about what he wants next. “I’ve always wanted to go at it myself. I do want the accountability on my shoulder, I want to feel the pressure.”
Opportunities may be rare. But then again, the last time he was thrown into something he’d never done before, he scored a hat-trick.
Ask football fans about Danny Butterfield and they’ll mention those six minutes. Ask his teammates and managers, and they’ll tell you something else.
He was a true professional. A leader. Someone who kept a club alive during administration.
Someone who stepped up whenever and wherever he was needed — even if it meant playing striker because his manager’s wife had a dream.
Raff Tindale, University of Newcastle
Roughly 10,000 boys in the UK are enrolled in football academies, but fewer than 200 will become professional players. In many academies, day-release programmes allow pupils to leave school once a week to train with the club. For the select 200 who succeed, forgoing their education and social lives may feel worthwhile. But for those who fall short, the time spent away from school and with friends can end up feeling like a sacrifice not worth making.
Sam Carr is now 22 years old. A lifelong Manchester United fan, he joined his boyhood club at the age of seven and signed his first academy contract when he was eight.
“I started playing for school when I was five. The coach knew a United scout, and he sent him to watch me,” Sam says.
“It meant the world. I captained them a few times. I absolutely loved playing with them.”
Over time, Sam began to realise his dream could become a reality. “I first realised I could be a footballer at United at around 11. You see people around you succeed, and you think ‘hang on, I could actually do this,’” he says.
As this realisation grew, so too did the academy’s intensity when Sam moved into secondary school. “That’s when it ramped up. I was training five days a week from 12 years old, so I couldn’t go out.
“We trained Saturday and had a match on Sunday, so my weekends were done.
“Socially I suffered, but I was fine with the trade-off.”
With Sam’s weekends and evenings entirely football focused, school became a rare opportunity to socialise. But football always came first. “I did day release, so I’d leave school every Tuesday,” Sam says, “and I think that’s a very negative thing for young players.”
“I would have done so much better in school had I not done day release,” he explains, “but it also gives you a subconscious superior feeling over your peers because I could leave school and they couldn’t.
“Even now when I’m playing, I can look at someone and say, ‘you’ve been in an academy’ based on how they act towards other people,” he adds.
Sam continued to excel at Manchester United’s academy. By the time he reached 14, the hope of becoming a professional felt within reach.
“On the day of the ‘decisions,’ my coach comes up to me and says, ‘we’re going on tour next month, and you’re on the waitlist,’” Sam says, “I thought if I’m here next month, I’ve got a contract.
“The same guy then goes upstairs to my Mum and says, ‘we’re going to have to release him.’
“I come outside afterwards, buzzing because I think I’ve got a contract, and my Mum has to tell me: ‘no.’”
Sam left the Carrington that afternoon and never returned.
“It was horrible. I struggled with it.
“But the worst bit about it was having to go into school and tell people I wasn’t good enough.”
For the first time since the age of seven, Sam was back to being a normal schoolboy. Through Manchester United’s day-release programme, Sam had missed a fifth of each school year for three straight years – around 114 days in the classroom. And where his education suffered, so too did his social life.
“It puts you on a pedestal mentally and gives you a sense of entitlement. But when it doesn’t work out, you’re brought down to earth.
“I was quite good at handling that. I didn’t really have the typical personality of an academy player.
“But my social status definitely dropped a bit.”
Sam’s story is not extraordinary. “It’s massively common, this type of thing,” Sam explains. “You get one phone call to ask if you’re okay, and that’s it.”
Crystal Palace became the first Premier League club to launch a dedicated three-year aftercare programme for released academy players in 2022. Four years on, it remains the only scheme as long-term or as formal in the top-flight.
The British Psychological Society has called for support for young players to be embedded in academies from the outset, ensuring released players receive the help they “need and deserve”.
Reintegration into the day-to-day school environment is a complicated challenge faced by many ex-academy prospects. Sam’s experience was no exception to the rule. “It was hard. It was definitely a readjustment.”
But without the gruelling academy schedule, he discovered freedoms football had previously denied him: “After I left United, my social life got better. I could go out, do more at school and I had some good friends.
“I did find that I quite enjoyed being normal.
“But if there’s one thing I’d change about how academies work, I would get rid of day release.”
FWA Vikki Orvice Student Football Writer of the Year, in conjunction with Women In Football
Grace Laidler, University of Newcastle
In March, a video of an ‘altercation’ between two women outside St. James’ Park went viral on Twitter (X). Filmed before Newcastle United’s win against Manchester United, the video shows a Red Devils fan talking to the camera about how easy the game will be for her team, before getting the portion of chips she was carrying shoved into her face by a supporter of the home side.
The video, which was quickly debunked to be staged, wasn’t designed to show a mouthy fan getting their comeuppance. Instead, it followed the growing trend of female adult content creators filming ‘shock factor’ videos outside football stadiums on busy matchdays.
These videos follow a similar formula: a creator wearing a popular team shirt, either performing a stunt or attempting to rile passersby with derogatory comments about the opposition. They appear to be conceived, filmed and edited to attract male football fans with disposable income to subscribe to their content channels.
What stood out about this particular video amongst the litany of others was the little girl behind the two women, jingling a charity bucket in an attempt to raise money for her football team. She witnessed the whole incident.
The spectacle of female sexuality in football is not a novel idea; the early 2000s saw the popularity of Page 3 models becoming WAGs and Soccer AM having a segment dedicated to its ‘Soccerettes.’ However, what was once confined to the newsstands and the television set is now permeating the football grounds themselves and is easily accessible through the social media world we all carry in our back pockets.
It is understandable why the creators produce these videos: they capitalise on the misogyny that has long been aimed at female football fans by overdramatising it. They exert their control by positioning themselves as though they are ‘in’ on the joke, blurring the line between female empowerment and reinforcing exploitation.
The video sparked a great deal of controversy, but ultimately, it didn’t matter. Their performance prompted a small number of users to slander any women involved in ‘their’ game. Some commented with derogatory statements such as ‘Time to get women out of football. They do nothing for the atmosphere’ and ‘I detest this generation.’
I’ll admit that I’m very lucky. I wrote an article a few years ago explaining how I felt safe and welcome wherever I sat at St. James’ Park, especially if I was by myself. Since then, I’ve had a couple of less-than-friendly incidents, notably someone making fun of the way I cheer and another forcefully grabbing me unprovoked.
I’m not alone in this, either. In the last few years, attitudes towards women in football have gone from groundbreaking steps forward to steadily creeping back. According to The FA’s Reaching Higher report, 2.6 million girls have equal access to football in PE lessons, a 31% increase since 2020. However, outside of the classroom and into the stadiums, Durham University Professor Stacey Pope found that three-quarters of the 2,000 male football supporters she surveyed held misogynistic attitudes towards women in the sport.
“[There’s been] an increased opportunity for women to actually become football fans over the last three decades, but that hasn’t automatically led to gender equality.” Pope told The Guardian. “Whenever you see small steps towards equality, you get backlash.”
When content perpetuating harmful stereotypes about female football fans garners millions of views per post, it becomes the dominant narrative within online football spaces. Over half of the British adults surveyed by anti-discrimination charity Kick It Out believe that online misogyny deters girls from engaging with football, so these creators are monetarily benefitting from the discouragement of the next generation of female football fans.
When I watched the video, the only person that I wanted to support was the little girl. She encapsulates what it truly means to be a female football fan: standing out in the cold on a dark night, hoping that someone will see that you deserve the respect for your love of football as much as anybody else.
Isabelle Martin, University of Brighton
Brighton and Hove Albion pride themselves on being a club shaped by their supporters. From fan protests back in the 1990’s to promotion parties on trains involving players and fans in 2017, the Brighton story has always been one of unity. It is for this exact reason that the club’s decision to remove the heritage tiles at the Amex and replace them with a mosaic is nothing short of a disgrace.
Those tiles are not decorative extras; they are paid-for markers of loyalty and memory, embedded into the stadium by supporters who believed their place at the club was permanent.
In a football landscape where everything revolves around profit, Brighton seemed like one of the good ones. Now, though, Albion fans cannot be blamed for believing they are an afterthought.
The heritage tiles were introduced in 2011, as a way for supporters to permanently mark their place, and their loved ones’ places, in Brighton’s history. Fans purchased personalised tiles for £99, which were installed on the North Concourse ramp walls at the Amex.
In an announcement yesterday, the club revealed that it had launched the BHAFC 125 Fan Wall to celebrate the club’s 125th anniversary, which falls in June 2026. For £45, fans can upload their photos to feature in the mosaic wall that honours players who defined Brighton’s journey across generations.
Further down in that announcement, the club dropped the bombshell that the tiles would be removed at the end of the season. The 125 Fan Wall was described as “the natural successor” to the Heritage Tile Wall.
Fans were not consulted about the matter, which resulted in uproar. One supporter described the decision as “disregarding the sentimental and historical values”, on the North Stand Chat, a Brighton fan forum.
In an emotional sense, Brighton’s identity has been built on the idea of collective ownership. This is a club that survived extinction thanks to its supporters who refused to be silenced.
The heritage tiles represent individual supporters woven into the fabric of the club, a reminder that Brighton’s rise has been shared rather than imposed. Surely it is better to honour the fans who ‘defined Brighton’s journey across generations’.
Removing them alters the relationship between Brighton and its fans by replacing something personal with something no one really wants. Modernising a stadium should never come at the cost of heritage. Nothing contradicts the ‘TOGETHER’ motto more than taking down the plaques that honour those who helped Brighton get to where it is today. The fans who went through the heartbreak at Goldstone and travelled week after week to Gillingham deserve just as many plaudits, if not more, than the ones who stepped onto the pitch. Without the fans, the players wouldn’t have a team to play for.
Many mark the names of family members who have passed away, and fans treat them like gravestones that they visit prior to kick-off. The bigger issue is how it changes the relationship between the club and its fans. When looking modern comes before letting people express themselves, supporters start to feel like they’re just watching a brand, not part of it.
There is a reasonable argument in defence of Brighton’s decision. Stadiums require constant upkeep, visual identity matters, and clubs must evolve as they grow. A mosaic may offer a cleaner aesthetic, but why must it replace the heritage tiles? Why not have both?
The club claims that “after nearly 15 years of installation and production of the tiles, many of them are unfortunately falling foul of time and the weather conditions.” However, anyone who has visited the Amex recently can rebut that suggestion with just one look at the heritage wall. The original tiles remain in great condition, neatly lined up, side by side. It’s the newer ones that have “fallen foul” of the weather.
Plenty of clubs have found ways to update their surroundings while still respecting the supporter spaces that matter. When a club that prides itself on its relationship with fans makes a decision like this without involving them, it weakens that message.
The heritage tiles that line the North Concourse wall are a reminder that Brighton was built by its community long before it became a Premier League mainstay. The names, messages, and memories on that wall mean far more than a mosaic ever could.
One supporter, Tracey said: “It’s like digging up a churchyard full of weathered gravestones to replace them with a video installation… My late dad’s tile has his name and ‘Albion Forever’. Ironic that his loyalty isn’t reciprocated.”
Many other fans have announced they will be cancelling their season tickets if the plaques are removed. Maybe that’s what it will take for the board to remember who Brighton and Hove Albion belongs to.
Olivia Morgan, St Mary’s University Twickenham
“You have to think about where that first bet can take you”.
At 18, Tony Kelly could never have imagined the journey football would take him on. If you’re expecting a story about scoring goals and achieving new heights, you should adjust your expectations. Instead, ex-footballer Kelly sits down to discuss a tale of heartache, loss, and £500k in accumulated debt over 25 years.
Across the UK over 1.4 million people struggle with problem gambling. That number is on the rise. Kelly is a cautionary tale of the grip of a gambling addiction and how it becomes exponentially worse when marred by shame, loneliness, and a lack of support. He’s looking to change that.
Kelly joined Bristol City at 16, but was released before his 18th birthday. He remembers musing, “how the hell did I not get a professional contract?” It was the first moment that would shock those in his life, but it wouldn’t be the last.
Looking back, he admitted to a combination of bad behaviour and coasting on natural talent saying, “100% I would have changed and focused on my attitude and dedication.” Kelly regretted his homecoming, but said the shame forced him to rethink his outlook towards the game.
He didn’t know the situations he would find himself in would leave a lasting effect. Following a split from semi-professional Stratford Town, Kelly signed for Dulwich Hamlet FC in 1984, a non-league club on the opposite side of London.
As a black footballer in the 1980s, he struggled to connect with his teammates. “You have to be mentally strong in any football dressing room, but particularly a young 18-year-old … walking into a dressing room full of cockney banter where you get the piss ripped out of you,” he said.
He recounted senior players going from training to the bookmakers. “I wanted to find a way to fit in,” Kelly reflected. The consequence of that first bet would nearly ruin him, but it would also lead to Kelly turning his life around and helping others do the same.
For Kelly, reminiscing is bittersweet. “Those years are the years that really did the damage in terms of accumulating a whole load of debt, in terms of sporadic form, in terms of mental health, in terms of impacts on friends and family,” he recounts.
Kelly split with his partner of 20 years, had houses and cars repossessed, and filed bankruptcy for £192,000 in 2009. He said, ”the shame factor is massive,” admitting it completely took over his life.
He was invited on to BBC Breakfast in 2013 to promote his first book, Red Card, published on the back of his sister’s unwavering support after she read snippets in newspapers about footballers gambling. On the back of this appearance, a friend inquired if he would be willing to do a speaking engagement for a charity gala night.
Kelly realised a path was forming. Gala night, he recounted “a couple of women coming up to me saying they’re finding their dad’s betting slips in the bin.” He knew something had to be done, and who else was in a better position than himself.
He explained, “the big thing that resonated with me and obviously resonated with a lot of people that were listening is the fact that I wasn’t alone.” Thus in 2015, he founded the Red Card Gambling Support Project.
The organisation is a not-for-profit that aims to help those in positions like himself, in addition to supporting young people in an environment where gambling is becoming increasingly accessible. Red Card runs educational awareness workshops, working in partnership with schools and colleges, aimed at preventing the development of problem gambling among 16-25 year olds.
Early intervention is key because, as Kelly repeats, “gambling addiction doesn’t discriminate.” He uses his experience to connect with those struggling, aiming to help ease the burdens of those living in shame. He recounts, “even if I did have a massive win and cleared my debts, I don’t think it would have stopped me gambling because it’s ingrained in you then. It’s become a problem.”
He attributes parts of his recovery to his faith. While working as a signaller, Kelly was visited by a Network Rail chaplain. Combined with family support and counseling, he realised there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He was not alone.
“When I think about others that have sadly lost their lives to gambling then suicide, and I think about losing the three houses, I think about the breakdown of my relationship, I think about all the finance, I think about the bankruptcy,” he said.
“I think about all the things I went through to be able to be here, you know, sane and sustainable, healthy lifestyle, then I’m very blessed and very lucky.”
FWA/Kick It Out Unheard Voices Student Football Writer of the Year
Daniel Casallas Beltrán, University of Brighton
The final whistle at the Amex Stadium should have been the end of it. The noise softened as supporters drifted into a grey afternoon, their voices fading into the cold Sussex air. I stood in the mixed zone, recorder in hand, repeating questions that no longer sounded right.
It was my first professional match in England. My first time covering football outside Colombia. My first interview, somewhere between anticipation and uncertainty.
Then I heard Spanish.
Everything became clearer.
Manuela Vanegas had just left the pitch after Brighton & Hove Albion Women’s win over Leicester City. It was her first home appearance since arriving in England, and only her second since returning from a long injury lay-off. As she approached, the usual distance between player and journalist seemed to narrow.
We spoke in Spanish, naturally and without hesitation.
“I’m very happy,” she said. “Getting to play here, in this stadium, with the fans… it was amazing.”
There was composure in her voice, but also something quieter underneath. Relief, perhaps. After ten months out with an anterior cruciate ligament injury, this was not just another appearance. It was a return to competition, to confidence, to a version of herself that had been paused.
A Colombian international, Vanegas arrived in England carrying experience, but also uncertainty after five years in Spain. A new league, a new language, a new team, all while completing a recovery that is as mental as it is physical. The adaptation, she explained, extends beyond football.
“Coming from far away, while recovering, the support from the team has been very important,” she said. “I’ve worked a lot on the mental side too.”
Listening to her, I recognised parts of that process. Not the injury, not the level, but the transition itself. I had moved to England weeks earlier to study sports journalism, drawn by the same idea that brings so many players here. This is where football feels most intense, most visible, most demanding. The difference is that while South American players are a constant presence on the pitch, their voices, and the voices telling their stories, are far less visible off it.
At that moment, our paths overlapped. Different professions, different expectations, but a shared experience of the same unfamiliar environment.
Vanegas spoke about the Women’s Super League with clarity. Faster, more physical, less forgiving than in Spain. “It’s a style that suits me,” she said. “But I’m still learning, little by little.” For a defender, understanding develops through minutes and communication over time.
Language plays a central role. She had studied English before arriving, but daily immersion has accelerated her progress. Training sessions, team meetings, and conversations with teammates have built confidence. Still, there are moments where expression comes more naturally in Spanish, where meaning feels more precise.
Those moments are easier alongside Jorelyn Carabalí, her Colombian teammate.
“She’s like my sister,” Vanegas said. “We’ve played together for a long time. Here, we’re together every day. Same language, similar culture. It’s very important.”
Familiarity, in a foreign place, becomes a form of support. For her, it is a teammate who shares her background. For me, it was that interview.
Until that day, reporting in England had carried a slight distance. Not in access, but in expression. Thinking and responding in a second language introduces hesitation; in Spanish, that hesitation disappeared. The questions flowed more naturally. The conversation felt closer.
Vanegas smiled when asked about the weather, about the rain, and the cold that contrast with what she had known before. “I enjoy it all,” she said. “That’s part of adapting.” The answer was simple, but it reflected a broader acceptance of change.
English football presents itself as global. Its players come from across the world and its audience extends far beyond it. Yet the perspectives shaping its coverage do not always reflect that same diversity. Stories like Vanegas’ are present throughout the game. What is less common is hearing them told with the context they deserve.
That is what stayed with me.
Not because it was my first interview, but because of what it suggested. There is space not just to report, but to interpret. Not only to translate words, but experience.
As the conversation ended, she thanked me and moved on. The stadium had grown quiet. The afternoon felt colder than before.
Something had shifted.
For Vanegas, it was another step in a return that is still unfolding, built through minutes and continuity.
For me, it was more subtle, but equally clear. A sense that I could belong in that space, not by removing where I come from, but by using it.
In a stadium in the south of England, two Colombians met, each at the beginning of something new. The conversation was brief. The significance was not.
We spoke the same language.
Not just Spanish.
Football.
Billy Taylor, University of Gloucestershire
The loud noise inside the stadium, the tight deadlines after a last-minute winner meaning you have to change your entire article and the sense of pressure building around you can make anyone break.
I remember in my final year of sixth form, a teacher asked me if I could handle stress and pressure, and even my reply was “I really don’t know.”
But since I started university in 2024, game by game, assignment by assignment, I’ve put myself into a place I’ve never really felt before, and that’s comfort.
I have been diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome since I was nine years old. It’s a condition that can give you challenges in the social sector and routine adherence, but it can give you cool things like intense interests.
I have a deep interest in a lot of things; I know facts that are very niche. I have interests in music, with my favourite artists being Oasis, Pulp and the Beatles. I know things about those bands that they probably don’t know about themselves. I also collect a lot of vinyl, owning probably over 50 albums. But even with that obsession of mine, it doesn’t come close to my love for football.
School was something I quite honestly hated. I had friends and great support around me, which I’ll never forget, but the sense of dread I’d feel walking in every day was something I felt for years and years. Some days, I would feel so low that I was afraid to even look at my computer at work or engage in any social activities.
My first game was with my dad in 2012; it was Rangers vs Dundee United. My dad’s a die-hard Gers fan; the Tangerines ran out 2-1 winners against a Rangers side that was relegated to the fourth division of Scottish football the next season.
I had to pick someone more local, so I went to my first Cheltenham Town game, a 0-0 draw against Newport County in 2013, and even though that game was your average boring long-ball clash, I fell in love with football.
I started going to watch Cheltenham more and more, most places with large crowds and loud noises I would have hated going to, but not Whaddon Road, I loved it every week. I begged my dad to take me time and time again going up and down the country from Rotherham to Exeter with just me, him and my brother loving every second of it.
It was around 2020, during lockdown, when I decided to try my hand at graphics and reporting on Cheltenham games. That season we’d just gone into lockdown and lost to Northampton in the playoffs, but I remembered having the urge to report it. I was bored with nothing to do, so I decided to try giving reporting a go in the ’20/’21 season with an Instagram account centred around Cheltenham Town.
The account not only boosted my confidence in my skills, but also provided me with a platform to enhance my personal and professional growth.
Then university came. As someone with anxiety, the thought of starting a new chapter was daunting to say the least; I had been educated at a school specifically designed to help neurodivergent people, with some of my classes even having at most three people.
The thought of living alone and starting a course with people I’d never met before was daunting, but I quickly realised I could do it. I’d been through many challenges in my life, and this was just one of them. I remember my first time in a press box at university was West Brom vs Blackburn; it felt surreal how far I came from someone who was scared to even walk into school some days to go into a 27,000-capacity stadium to work was a feeling of intensity but, at the same time, comfort.
I felt as if I were finally with one in myself, and I was in a place where my mind was finally happy with how it all worked out and it was going to be ok.
Since I’ve started university and my course, I’ve had challenges with bouts of anxiety before big games and media days, but I’ve always come out better for doing them, with every game or meeting getting easier.
To anyone with autism or who’s neurodivergent. You can do it. Put yourself out there and fulfil your potential. Anything is possible if you take an opportunity by the scruff of the neck. The people I’ve met have helped me become a stronger person and have completely changed my mindset and confidence in myself. So with that, thank you, sports journalism. Thank you to the people I’ve met along the way; this is a love letter to all of you.
George Townsend, University of Gloucestershire
Just weeks after captaining the Republic of Ireland’s Under-19s to the semi-finals of the European Championships, Chloe Mustaki was confronted by news that no teenager could ever be prepared for.
After a routine check-up and subsequent tests, she received a devastating diagnosis.
Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a rare type of blood cancer.
“From major highs to major lows,” she admits, “It was a complete shock to the system, and it was life-changing.”
From there, she endured a long six months of chemotherapy, and while she is now cancer-free, the experience continues to have a profound impact on her outlook on both football and life.
“It’ll always haunt me in certain ways, to be honest. It’s developed a level of low-level anxiety in me that will probably remain dormant for the rest of my life, and so that’s something that I’ll have to manage forever.
“[But] it’s given me a different sense of perspective. In any obstacle that I face now, I know that I’ve been through tough times before and came out the other side.”
Less than eight weeks after completing her gruelling treatment, she made an emotional return to football, receiving a standing ovation from both sets of supporters as she stepped onto the field as a substitute for UCD Waves against rivals Raheny United.
“That was a big moment for me. It just felt great to be a part of something that I had loved and that I had lost for the past six or seven months of my life.”
But that was only the start of her journey.
Her resilience, perseverance, and stand-out performances on the pitch over the following seasons would soon be rewarded, with Mustaki lined up to make her senior Ireland debut against Greece in March 2020.
However, just a day before the game, she suffered another cruel blow, tearing her anterior cruciate ligament in training, delaying her debut, ending her season, and leaving her devastated.
“That was very difficult,” she says, pausing briefly, “I had worked so hard to make my way back up to the top after my cancer diagnosis, and I was so close to getting that first international cap, so it was very difficult to have that taken away from me.
“It was gut-wrenching in many ways, but I was really determined to come back flying.”
And to no surprise, that was exactly what she did.
After 18 months, Mustaki was back, contributing to Shelbourne’s title-winning campaign, before eventually earning her long-awaited Ireland debut against Russia in February 2022.
“That just really proved to me that perseverance is everything. It doesn’t really matter how long it takes you, if you have an end goal in mind and you just keep working towards it, no matter what hiccups come up along the way, usually you’ll end up there at some point.”
The following summer, she made a bold decision, leaving the security of her full-time job and the Irish league behind to sign her first professional contract with Bristol City.
“I didn’t want to have any regrets when I stepped away from football,” she recalls, “I had given up so much growing up to devote myself to my sport, and I just felt like maybe it was time to take the plunge and see where it might take me.”
Although she made a promising start to the campaign, a groin injury sustained just before Christmas saw her miss a frustrating four months of action, jeopardising her ambitions of making the World Cup squad.
“It was a difficult situation to deal with. We’d just qualified for the World Cup, and it was a race against time to be able to make that plane in the summer.
“I felt like I was doing well in the first half of the season, and then to have all of that taken away from me overnight was very, very difficult.”
But she worked relentlessly to make a return for the Robins before the end of the campaign, celebrating their promotion back to the Women’s Super League.
Over the off-season, she fought even harder to prepare herself for the World Cup pre-camp, where she proved herself to the Ireland staff and claimed a well-deserved place in the final squad.
“Being one of the 23 selected to go was an unbelievable achievement for me, considering all of the issues that I’d had in the lead-up to that summer. I honestly couldn’t believe that I had been selected.”
Reflecting on her journey so far, she emphasises the unwavering support of her family and friends in helping her to overcome adversity.
“I think that as long as you’re surrounded by the right people, you’ll be able to overcome any challenge. I really do believe that.”
sistem informasi
May 9, 2026 at 3:34 am
Daniel Beltran’s essay on Manuela Vanegas truly stands out. Her perspective on language and identity on the pitch provides a depth rarely found in typical match reporting. Congratulations to all the winners!s