After taking some time to reflect on New Zealand's performance at the World Cup, I thought I would take a moment to delve into what I saw as a coach. The pattern that was exceedingly obvious was New Zealand's inability to dominate key areas in the box from aerial situations.

The amount of work that New Zealand Football has put into building a nation that is technically proficient and able to play a possession style of game almost didn't matter. It was not the level of technical proficiency, talent or effort that sent us home, it was a lack of tactical awareness and an inability to defend our box in the air. This is something we saw on show in all three games.

The opening game saw the All Whites face IR Iran. A game where we led twice and were unable to close it out. An equaliser in the 64th minute from Mohebbi came from a cross from the right flank into the area, dropping over Boxall's head and into the space between him and Surman. Against Egypt the All Whites, once again, were leading, thanks to a thumping header from Surman off a Payne corner. In this game we again conceded two headers from deliveries into the box, with Crocombe able to get a hand to Zico's 58th-minute equaliser but unable to keep it out. The third goal, a near-post header from Trezeguet, who was left completely unmarked, was further testament to our inability to defend the box. The trainwreck against Belgium saw Trossard bundle home the opener in the 28th minute from an uncleared corner, with Lukaku adding to the tally with yet another header. Overall the All Whites conceded 10 goals in three games (albeit five of them were against Belgium). Roughly half of these goals came from crosses, corners and headers.

Now I'm going to name names. Max Crocombe. I always feel bad for goalkeepers, because you have to be mad to be a keeper, but his performances were below par for a World Cup calibre goalkeeper. He couldn't catch a cold, and part of me wishes he had so Paulsen got the nod ahead of him. The ESPN analysts had a bit to say about Crocombe as well, describing him as "frozen" and "helpless" for Belgium's last goal. A goalkeeper that parries everything when he should be claiming or holding shots isn't a goalkeeper conducive to dominating his box. Granted, when the team in front of him are hanging him out to dry by not closing down crosses or marking dangerous areas in the box, it does make it difficult, but for me, not good enough when called upon.

Finn Surman. I love this kid. Part of the back line that shipped 10 goals, but also the only player that showed any willingness to attack the ball in the air. He scored NZ's goal against Egypt from a corner with a towering header and was dominant in both boxes when required. Further evidence that it isn't about our technical proficiency or effort, it's about the qualities that are harder to coach: putting your body on the line and wanting to attack the ball. Don't be surprised if this kid moves on to bigger things shortly.

Lastly, Eli Just. The point of football is to score more goals than your opponent. That's how you win games. Very difficult when you're asking your forwards to score 3+ goals a game, every game. However, Eli Just has come off a terrific season at Motherwell, winning their Player of the Year. If there was ever a player who needed to produce a bit of magic to unlock a stubborn defence in a tight game, it would be him. His ability with the ball in tight areas is a hallmark of the standard NZF has been trying to foster, and his connection with Chris Wood (particularly against Iran) was very good.

Like my passage about Auckland City, the gap in the levels is doing the basics brilliantly, particularly under pressure. Defending your box is one of the most fundamental aspects of defending, and it's where New Zealand fell short this World Cup. Aerial defending, attacking the ball and commanding the six-yard box are some of the most unglamorous things to coach in football, but when all goals count the same, it can be the difference at any level in football.

"Absolute chance, to be brutally honest." This was how Cameron (Cam) Grieve described his journey to football in New Zealand. A chance conversation with a local legend from his hometown who happened to be home for a wedding. A man called Duncan, who shared a classroom with Cam's mum, was using his time back in Northern Ireland as a way to scout players for Tauranga City some 18,000 kilometres away. Duncan had been watching Cam play for Dungannon at the time and ended up bumping into Cam's mum on the street. It was here that Cam's mum discovered Duncan had taken an interest in Cam's playing abilities. Two cafe meetings and six months later, Cam left everything he had ever known back home to make the move to New Zealand. It gets weirder. Much weirder. Cam recalls an activity when he was in year six, where he was asked to write down in a little book where he would like to live when he was older. Because of the All Blacks, a year six Cam wrote 'New Zealand.' So when Cam announced he was moving to New Zealand, "[Mum] went upstairs and got the little book out and showed me… it must have always been in the back of my head." Whether you believe in fate or coincidence, you've got to admit, it's pretty unreal.

Cam describes his early life growing up in Northern Ireland very fondly. "[I] grew up in a little country called Northern Ireland with two brothers and a sister and a very close family growing up, and all we ever did was outside playing sports." At age 16, Cam was confronted with a choice about which sport he wanted to pursue seriously and, of course, he chose football. It's very evident when you speak with Cam that his father was an ever-present figure in his life in Northern Ireland. "He'd get up at 4 o'clock, half four sometimes, out to work, and then would be back to take me to training in the afternoon… Countless times it would be snowing or absolutely torrential rain, and he's just standing on the side of the pitch." A man who never complained regardless of the sacrifice required. It speaks volumes about Cam's sacrifices too. Leaving home, leaving his family to explore his options on the other side of the world, starting off new with nothing and nobody. A challenge which he acknowledges has been difficult: "Moving to New Zealand, I missed having him there, and I don't think I've really come to terms with that."

Coaching became a regular part of Cam's life around the age of 16, where he would voluntarily coach his club's youth sides. Wanting to give back was always a key motivation for Cam, which became more evident the more involved he got with football. Having earned himself a sports degree, nearly becoming a PE teacher and wrestling with injury, Cam (like most other coaches I've spoken to) was 23 when he accepted that he wasn't going to go pro. A recurring knee injury that kept him intermittently sidelined gave him the time he needed to reflect on how he wanted to give back to the game. "With injuries comes frustration and reflection… there has to be more to life than getting to a point, playing a couple of games, and then breaking down again." It was at this point the opportunity to come out to New Zealand arose, an opportunity that Cam has since snatched with both hands.

His mindset coming to New Zealand was simple. Try it for a year; if I don't like it, and I get nowhere, I can always come home. Nine years later he's still here. Safe to say, with his wife and son, he's in it for the long haul. His journey through football in New Zealand is the least surprising part about his footballing life. Having started as a football development officer at a school in Tauranga, Cam would end up captaining Tauranga City and became the founding Head of Academy for the amalgamated FC Tauranga Moana, where he built the academy process from the ground up. Four years ago Cam stopped playing due to the birth of his son. Having a full-time role with Sunday travel on top of playing commitments: "I couldn't try and be the sort of father I want to be and not be there at all… the role was all consuming." It was this CV and the connections he had made in the game that meant the Phoenix came knocking about an academy role. "You don't get these opportunities too many times in your life, so I jumped at it." When the Phoenix call, you answer.

In terms of Cam's coaching aspirations and what drives him, he's pretty straightforward. He details the pub dream, where he can sit down after years of graft and coaching and watch his players flourish. "I'll never be the one that says it's because of me… it's never because of me. But it would be nice to have played a small part in some of their journeys." When I asked him what he hopes for the players that come through the academy, it was never solely measured on whether they became a top professional: "If they love the game, they've got a decent skill set, and they're still playing when they're 35, 40." These things, to him, were the hallmark of whether he had done his job properly or not.

When I asked Cam what football had taught him about life, he gave me a quote that essentially distilled his life into one sentence. "Smooth seas never produce skilled sailors." I have to say, when I heard it initially I was a little bit surprised, because I'd never heard it before, but reviewing it again now, it's the one thing he said that makes the most sense, especially because it came from him. He went on to say, "Life is not straightforward, football is not straightforward… but if your heart, your passion, is truly in it, you'll find what it takes to persist."

And to close, I'd like to take stock of how we ended up here. I've always said that football is about people, and I want to show you just how true this is. Within four issues of this newsletter, I've gone from interviewing the head coach of my local club to a Wellington Phoenix academy coach. It's testament to the degrees of separation and the importance of connection in grassroots football. I've asked each of my spotlights who they think has a story worth telling, and each person has led me to the next. From Matt Milner I ended up in Northland with Deon Hales, who pointed me to Jamie Smith at Olé Football Academy in Wellington, which led me to Cam. Cam has directed me to Nelson, where I'll interview a man known colloquially as 'Skippy.'

For coaches, training shouldn't stop once the floodlights go out. It's a common mistake I see all too often. They turn up, do a job and go home. In some ways the consistency of turning up for your team is commendable, but if you're serious about coaching, it's rarely enough just to show up. The step that most grassroots coaches heavily undervalue is reflection. It's the unseen part of coaching that, in my experience, is the easiest way to improve.

I've just spent the past five issues sifting through Environment Design Principles (if you haven't read these already, I suggest you do). It would be a waste to give you all the tools and not tell you to reflect on your use of them, so consider this a sequel to the EDP run.

In football they say, "there's the session you plan to run, the session you run and the session you wish you had run." Some things are only discoverable once you're on the grass. After navigating a wave of unintended consequences and environments and trying to adjust on the fly, taking stock of a session after the fact is the best way to improve yourself as a coach and make the best out of what you have. Remember, training is for everyone, including coaches. Everyone is there to get better.

Using a simple structure to reflect is much better than freestyling straight off the dome. I like to separate my trainings into three parts:

From here you can ask yourself three questions regarding each of these parts of training.

I've found this a great way to reflect because it allows me to pinpoint where exactly my session might need tightening up, or if it really was just the chaos of running the session that got in the way. Believe me, there have been plenty of times where I thought my planning was bulletproof before I proceeded to get on the grass, have an existential crisis and want to toss the whole thing out. As I said before though, don't do that.

The other trap you can fall into is when you have a good session. It feels great, you come home, training was top, everyone's happy and you rest on your laurels. Don't do this either. You learn just as much reflecting on why a good session worked as why it didn't. The things that work for you may not work for other coaches, so if you find something within your training sessions that works, and you know why use it!

In essence, if you're serious about developing as a coach, don't be the bare minimum guy. Introduce a feedback loop that lets you reflect on your sessions. The more sessions you run, the more reflection you can do, the better you will become. More volume of sessions = more volume of reflection = better, faster. And as always, remember, I'm just a guide. I'm finding my own way through this journey, and I'm happy that I have the platform to share what works for me so it can hopefully help a few of you.