soccer skills – world cup： Top 3 drills you must try!

The Day I Decided My Soccer Skills Weren’t a Total Embarrassment Anymore

You know how it is. Every four years, the World Cup hits, and suddenly everyone remembers they own a pair of cleats. Me too. I got roped into a backyard kickabout with my nephew and his mates, and frankly, I was humiliated. The ball was moving slower than my retirement plan, and I couldn’t string together two passes that didn’t go straight to the opposition. I was a wobbly mess. So, I figured, screw it. Time to actually drill this stuff, not just watch it on TV and yell at the screen.

I dug around online, ignoring the super polished, perfect videos, and settled on three simple drills that looked tough enough to actually matter. I wanted quick, raw improvement. No fancy gear, no specialized pitch, just a ball, a few old laundry baskets for cones, and the patch of grass behind my shed. This whole experience, from start to finish, was about realizing just how much I’ve let my basic coordination go to hell since high school.

Setting the Stage and the Initial Shock

I started this whole thing last Tuesday, right after work. I was already drained, which was probably a mistake, but I wanted to get it done. The first twenty minutes were spent just getting the setup right. I was sweating just putting out the “cones”—which were four mismatched tupperware containers and a rusty bucket. I swear, the effort of getting the gear out was harder than the first drill itself.

My first attempt at the warm-up, just juggling the ball a few times, was an absolute joke. I managed three in a row before it clattered off my shin and rolled into the drain. My feet felt like bricks. It was a proper moment of reckoning. This wasn’t going to be a quick fix. This was going to be a grind.

Drill 1: The Figure-Eight Tight Control Nightmare

This drill promised better ball control. You set up maybe six cones tight, maybe a yard apart, and you just weave the ball through them, touching it with the inside and outside of both feet, keeping it glued to you. The goal is speed and precision.

The Practice Log:

• Attempt 1-5: Complete garbage. I was looking down the whole time, my knees were locked, and I kept kicking the ball too far ahead. It ended up hitting a cone nearly every time, which sent it bouncing into the hedge. I basically looked like a scarecrow kicking a tennis ball. I kept muttering to myself, “Why is this so damn hard?” The simple rhythm was missing.

• Attempt 6-10: I forced myself to slow down. I focused on using the outside of the foot for the turn around the cones. I realized my left foot, which I call “The Anchor,” was practically useless. It felt like I was trying to guide the ball with a wet noodle. But I managed to get through the whole set without losing the ball into the shrubs. That felt like a massive win, even though it took me about two minutes to complete the loop.

• The Realization: It’s not about power; it’s about micro-touches. I finished this segment drenched in sweat, but for the last few runs, I was actually looking up for a second or two. The feet are starting to listen, finally.

Drill 2: The Wall-Pass Weak Foot Grind

Next up, I needed to get my passing sorted, specifically with my left foot. I used the side of the garage. The idea is simple: pass off the wall, one-touch control with the right, one-touch pass back with the left. Non-stop, 50 times each side. Sounded easy.

The Practice Log:

• I started with the right foot, just to get the feel. Clean, crisp, easy. Felt great. I hit the same spot on the garage door every time. The ball came back nicely. I knocked out 50 of those in about two minutes. Confidence surged.

• Then came The Anchor. I switched to the left. The first pass went way wide and ricocheted off the trash can. The next pass was a weak little dribble that didn’t even make it back to me. The ball was coming back at awkward angles because my contact was terrible. I wasn’t striking the center of the ball correctly; I was toe-poking it. It was the most frustrating ten minutes of the whole session.

• I stopped counting sets and just focused on hitting the wall straight. I probably did 70 or 80 ugly, weak passes before I finally got a good five-streak where the ball actually came back to my right foot perfectly. I wasn’t trying to burn holes in the wall; I was just trying to be accurate. It was a mental battle against my own bodily limitations. I felt completely defeated by a stationary object.

Drill 3: The Conditioning and Finishing Frenzy

The last drill was about pushing the ball ahead and finishing a quick run with a shot. I marked a spot 15 yards out and used the laundry basket as my goal. The goal wasn’t to blast it, but to quickly get the shot off after a quick burst of speed, aiming for the basket.

The Practice Log:

• I pushed the ball and went for the sprint. After the first two drills, I was already gasping for air. My lungs were burning, and my legs felt like lead weights. This drill wasn’t just about the shot; it exposed my total lack of sustained effort.

• I tried 15 shots total. My focus kept dropping because I was so damn tired. The first few shots went well; a couple were clean hits with the laces that actually dinged the side of the basket. But as I fatigued, my technique vanished. I started hooking the ball wide, or hitting it so softly it just rolled up to the goal. I had to stop and suck wind for a full minute after every two shots.

• The last shot, I just wound up and smacked it as hard as I could, purely out of frustration. It completely missed the yard and slammed into my neighbor’s fence. I immediately grabbed the ball and packed up, leaving the whole mess of tupperware cones right where they were. I was done. Physically and mentally cooked.

So, was it a success? Hell yeah, it was. I didn’t become Ronaldo in an hour, but I moved, I focused, and I saw exactly where the effort needs to go. My close control is weak, my left foot is an embarrassment, and my cardio is non-existent. But I actually went through the motions and tried. I documented the crap out of it, and I’ll be back at it again tomorrow. That’s the only way this thing gets fixed. No more talking about it. Just doing it, and recording the ugly truth every time.