The Complete Guide to Running a Session

I’ve spent enough time standing on waterlogged touchlines to know that most of what you read online about a “complete guide to running a training session” is absolute rubbish. You’ll see these glossy, color-coded diagrams on social media that look more like a geometry exam than a football practice, promising that if you just follow a specific sequence of high-intensity rondos, you’ll suddenly have a Premier League side on your hands. Let me tell you something: those plans fall apart the moment a gust of wind hits your cones or one of your midfielders decides he’d rather spend the drill tying his laces. If your session relies on perfect conditions to work, you aren’t coaching; you’re just hosting a very expensive picnic.

I’m not here to sell you a dream or some fancy tactical theory that only works in a controlled environment. What I am going to give you is a proper, battle-tested framework for what actually happens when the whistle blows. I’ll show you how to structure your time so you aren’t wasting twenty minutes setting up equipment, how to keep the intensity high when the kids start wandering off, and how to ensure that what they learn on a Tuesday actually shows up on a Sunday. This isn’t about perfection; it’s about survival and progress.

Stop Guessing Using Training Needs Analysis to Find Real Gaps

Stop Guessing Using Training Needs Analysis to Find Real Gaps.

I’ve spent far too many Sunday mornings watching coaches run the exact same passing drill for the tenth week in a row, simply because it’s what they did last week. They aren’t coaching the players in front of them; they’re coaching a memory. If you want to stop wasting your time, you need to stop guessing and start using a proper training needs analysis. That sounds like a bit of boardroom jargon, I know, but in the real world, it just means looking at your squad and asking: “What is actually breaking when we play?” Are we losing the ball in the middle because of poor technique, or because our midfielders are standing still like statues?

Don’t just look at the scoreline—the scoreline is a liar. It tells you who won, not why they won. You need to look at the gaps. If your team collapses in the final fifteen minutes, it isn’t always a fitness issue; sometimes it’s a mental lapse in positioning. Real learning objectives development isn’t about ticking boxes on a clipboard; it’s about identifying whether your players lack the skill to execute a move, or the awareness to see it happening. If you don’t know the difference, you’re just running around a car park in the rain for no reason.

Instructional Design Principles for Drills That Dont Fail

Instructional Design Principles for Drills That Dont Fail

Look, I’ve seen plenty of coaches walk onto a pitch with a folder full of fancy diagrams, only to watch their players start wandering off to pick daisies because the drill is too complicated. If you want to get your learning objectives development right, you have to stop thinking like a professor and start thinking like a conductor. A drill isn’t just a way to burn off energy; it has to have a point. If you can’t explain to a twelve-year-old exactly what they are trying to achieve in ten seconds or less, you aren’t coaching, you’re just supervising a glorified game of tag.

The secret to real instructional design principles in football isn’t about the complexity of the movement; it’s about the relevance of the constraint. You don’t need a massive setup to teach a concept. You need to create a scenario where the players are forced to make the right decision because the way you’ve set the boundaries leaves them no other choice. If the drill is too easy, they switch off; if it’s too hard, they stop trying. You’re looking for that sweet spot of productive struggle where they actually have to think before they kick.

Five Rules for Surviving the Session Without Losing Your Mind or Your Players

  • Kill the Monologue: If you’re standing there talking for more than two minutes while twelve kids are staring at a puddle, you aren’t coaching, you’re lecturing. Give them the ‘why’ in one sentence, show them the movement once, and then get the ball moving. They learn by doing, not by listening to your life story.
  • The Setup is Everything: I’ve seen too many coaches spend twenty minutes moving cones around like they’re designing a garden. If your drill takes longer to set up than it does to actually play, you’ve failed. Keep your equipment minimal and your transitions fast; if the players are standing around waiting for you to find a lost bib, they’ll start testing how far they can kick a ball into the nearby hedge.
  • Manage the Intensity, Not Just the Ball: A drill that looks good on a whiteboard can fall apart if you don’t account for the fatigue. Don’t just run a high-intensity passing pattern for forty minutes and then wonder why they’re sluggish during the scrimmage. Mix the tempo so they learn how to execute a technical skill when their lungs are burning and the wind is hitting them in the face.
  • Stop Coaching the Ball, Start Coaching the Space: It’s easy to get sucked into watching the ball and shouting “pass it!” every five seconds. That’s lazy. Look at the players who don’t have the ball. If they aren’t moving into positions that actually make the drill work, your session is just a glorified game of keep-away that won’t help them when they’re playing a real match on a Sunday morning.
  • The “Seven-Two” Check: Before you blame a player for being “unfit” or “lazy” during a drill, ask yourself what they actually did in the last seventy-two hours. If they’re dragging their feet, it’s rarely a lack of heart; it’s usually a lack of recovery or a session that’s been too repetitive. Adjust your load rather than just shouting louder; yelling doesn’t build stamina, it just makes them resent you.

The Bottom Line: What to Take to the Pitch

Stop over-complicating the “why” before the session starts; identify the specific gap in your players’ ability first, or you’re just wasting a perfectly good Tuesday evening running drills that don’t fix a thing.

If a drill requires a PhD to explain or ten minutes of cone-shuffling to set up, bin it; the best training is the kind that gets the ball moving quickly and keeps the players’ heads in the game before they lose interest.

A session isn’t successful because you followed a fancy curriculum to the letter, but because the players actually understood the problem you were trying to solve and can apply it when the pressure is on and the lungs are burning.

Get Out of the Notebook and Onto the Grass

At the end of the day, a training session isn’t about how many colourful cones you can scatter across a pitch or how many complex diagrams you can draw in your notebook. It’s about making sure you aren’t just running around in circles to keep the kids occupied. You’ve learned that if you don’t identify the actual gaps in your squad through a proper analysis, you’re just wasting everyone’s Sunday morning. You’ve seen that a drill is only as good as its design—if it’s too complicated to explain before the players start fidgeting, it’s a failed drill. Stick to the principles: keep the setup simple, keep the intensity high, and ensure every minute spent on that patch of grass serves a clear, practical purpose.

I know it’s tempting to look for the magic bullet—that one perfect drill that will suddenly turn your midfields into Premier League maestros. It doesn’t exist. Coaching is a long, often cold, and occasionally frustrating game of incremental gains. But when you stop guessing and start coaching with intent, you’ll see it in those small moments: a player making a run they didn’t used to make, or a defender finding their positioning without you having to scream from the touchline. Don’t aim for perfection; aim for progress. Get your kit ready, get out there, and just make sure you’re giving them something worth their time.

Frequently Asked Questions

I’ve got the drills planned out, but how do I actually manage the chaos when half the squad is arguing and the other half is staring at their phones?

If you’ve lost them, the drill is the problem, not the kids. If they’re arguing, the task is too easy or too confusing; if they’re on phones, you’ve spent too much time talking and not enough doing. Stop the session. Don’t shout—just stand there and wait. Once you have their eyes, shorten the setup. If a drill takes five minutes to explain, it’s a lecture, not a training session. Get them moving.

How much time should I actually spend talking versus letting them play, without them losing focus or feeling like they're just running around aimlessly?

If you’re standing there with a whistle around your neck giving a ten-minute lecture, you aren’t coaching; you’re delivering a sermon, and most of them have already tuned you out to check their shoelaces. Keep your instructions to sixty seconds tops. If you can’t explain the drill before the frost sets in, it’s too complicated. Give them the “why,” set the boundaries, and let them play. They learn by doing, not by listening to you talk.

If I notice a drill isn't working halfway through the session, do I push through to finish it, or do I scrap it and change direction on the fly?

If you’re halfway through a drill and the kids are standing around looking like they’ve lost their keys, stop. Do not “push through” just because you spent ten minutes setting up the cones. That’s ego, not coaching. If the drill is broken, it’s dead. Scrap it. Either tweak the constraints immediately to fix the flow, or bin it entirely and move to something else. Better to lose ten minutes of a plan than sixty minutes of their attention.

About Desmond Fairbrother

Most football advice is written by people who have never had to run a session for fourteen kids in a car park in February. I have. So I will tell you which drills survive contact with reality, why your team collapses in the last fifteen minutes, and what a formation actually asks of the two players it hangs on. I do not do transfer gossip and I do not do match reports — those are stale by Tuesday. I do the parts that are still true in ten years.