I spent six months trying to be someone I wasn’t.
Not on the pitch. In a restaurant.
Let me explain.
The Lighthouse Problem
When I opened my Scottish restaurant, Middleton’s, I made a mistake that nearly killed the business.
Three streets away, there was a seafood restaurant called The Lighthouse. The owner, Tom, was crushing it. Packed tables. Hundreds of Facebook followers. Customers gushing about the experience.
So I did what seemed logical: I studied what Tom was doing and copied it.
Same posting frequency. Similar content style. Even started “modernising” my traditional Scottish menu to be more contemporary like his.
Deconstructed haggis with whisky foam. Cullen Skink in espresso cups. Very Instagram-worthy.
Very stupid.
What I Didn’t Understand
Here’s what I missed: Dundee already had a Lighthouse. It didn’t need another one.
It needed a Middleton’s.
When I copied Tom’s approach, I didn’t become successful like Tom. I just became a worse version of Tom while also destroying what made Middleton’s special.
My regulars noticed immediately. One woman asked my waitress, “Is this the same place? It feels different.”
My mum came in and nearly had a breakdown when she saw what I’d done to her recipes.
“Kevin, this isn’t how I taught you.”
“I’m making it modern, Mum. This is what people want.”
“Do they? Because your restaurant is emptier than when you served it properly.”
She was right.
The Coaching Parallel
Every week, thousands of grassroots coaches do exactly what I did.
They scroll social media, see what Manchester City’s academy is doing, and think: “That’s what good coaching looks like. That’s what I should be doing.”
So they copy it.
Not because it suits their players. Not because it connects to what they worked on last week. But because it looked good on someone else’s Instagram.
This is the Copy-Paste Coach.
And I think it can get in the way of real player development.
Why Copy-Paste Coaching Fails
When you copy drills without understanding the system behind them, your players learn the exercise, not the skill.
You run a Barcelona-style rondo. The players learn how to pop the ball around in this specific rondo. They don’t learn how to find space under pressure. They don’t develop game intelligence.
Six months later, they’re excellent at drills. But in matches, when the pattern doesn’t exist, they panic.
Because you taught them exercises, not football.
The Fix
Before you copy another drill, ask yourself:
- Does this fit into our systematic development?
- Does this build on what we did last week?
- Does this progress towards what we’re doing next month?
- Does this suit my players’ current development level?
If the answer is no to any of those questions, don’t run it. Doesn’t matter how good it looks on social media.
What Happened to Middleton’s
After hitting rock bottom, I stopped copying and started listening.
I called 16 of my former customers. Not to sell them anything. Just to ask: “What did you love about Middleton’s when you first came? When did it change for you?”
Every conversation revealed a piece of the puzzle I’d been missing.
Mr Patterson told me the stovies reminded him of his grandmother’s kitchen. When I “modernised” them, I deleted that memory.
The Walker family told me the restaurant felt like home cooking. When I started deconstructing things, it stopped feeling like home.
I rebuilt Middleton’s around what my actual customers wanted. Traditional recipes. Generous portions. Warmth over Instagram aesthetics.
Six weeks later, I had a waiting list.
The Question for You
Stop reading for a moment and think about your last five sessions.
Did they come from five different sources? Can you explain how this week connects to last week? Are your players learning skills that transfer to matches, or just getting good at drills?
If you recognise yourself in the Copy-Paste Coach, you’re not alone. I was there too.
The fix isn’t complicated. It’s just uncomfortable.
Stop trying to be everyone else. Start being systematically, consistently, authentically yourself.
Your players will thank you for it.
This is an excerpt from my new book, The Rise of the Dogmatic Football Coach. It’s a story about a Scottish restaurant that holds up a mirror to your coaching. You’ll recognise yourself in ways that sting. No lectures, just lessons that stick.
Available now on Kindle for £3.99, or free with Kindle Unlimited.
Want More Like This?
If you found this helpful, here are some places to go deeper:
- 328 Training Sessions - Sessions that connect week to week, not random drills
- Football Coaching Academy - Where I share more of this thinking. $1/month to join.
- FootballGPT - Free AI coaching assistant when you need quick answers