Let’s be direct about this: the average speed of a football player is a metric shrouded in more myth and marketing than almost any other. We see the blistering highlights, the explosive breakaways, and we assume these athletes are moving at near-superhuman velocities every single play. The reality, as any coach or data analyst will tell you, is far more nuanced and, frankly, a bit slower than you might think. Having spent years reviewing performance data and working alongside conditioning coaches, I’ve come to see top-end speed as the glittering prize, but average speed as the true workhorse of performance. It tells the story of endurance, of tactical discipline, and of the relentless, grinding effort that happens between those highlight-reel sprints.
So, what are we actually talking about? When we discuss "average speed" in a match context, we're not averaging their top speed with their walking pace in a simplistic way. We're looking at the mean distance covered per minute over the entire 90-plus minutes. For an outfield player in a top professional league, this typically falls between 10.5 to 13 kilometers per hour. That’s about 6.5 to 8 miles per hour. To put that in perspective, it’s a decent jogging pace for a fit amateur. The key insight here isn't the number itself, but what it represents: a constant state of readiness, of shifting, of supporting play, of closing down space. The elite midfield engines—think players like Jude Bellingham or Federico Valverde—might push that average closer to 12.5 km/h across a full game, which is a monstrous output of consistent, intelligent movement. Compare this to the pure sprinters, the wingers whose job is to deliver those breathtaking bursts. Their average might be similar or even slightly lower, but their peak speeds can eclipse 35 km/h (nearly 22 mph), with the very fastest like Kylian Mbappé or Alphonso Davies clocking in over 36 km/h. The difference between average and peak is the very essence of the game's physical demands.
This is where the hard truth comes in, and I’m reminded of a coaching philosophy that resonates deeply with me. It was summed up bluntly by a veteran manager: "Direct to the point. We don’t sugarcoat things… If the players can’t take that, then they cannot play on this team." That mentality is absolutely foundational when addressing speed development. You can’t sugarcoat the work required. Improving average match speed isn’t just about getting faster in a straight line; it’s about improving repeat sprint ability, soccer-specific endurance, and crucially, the mental toughness to maintain movement when fatigued. It’s about the willingness to make that third supporting run in the 85th minute when the game is tied and your legs are burning. Many talented players possess great top speed, but the true professionals separate themselves through their average output—their consistent, high-intensity baseline. If a player can’t take the direct feedback that their off-the-ball movement is lazy, or that their recovery pace is dropping, they’ll be exposed at the highest level.
From a training perspective, focusing solely on 40-yard dash times is a classic mistake I see in amateur setups. To boost that all-important in-game average, training must be chaotic and reactive, mirroring the game itself. Small-sided games with mandatory touch limits force constant movement. Position-specific drills that simulate tracking back, overlapping runs, and pressing triggers are gold. I’m a huge proponent of GPS data here; it removes all doubt. Telling a player they averaged 10.8 km/h last game is one thing, but showing them the map where their intensity dropped in the final third for three consecutive possessions is a direct, un-sugarcoated catalyst for change. We also can’t ignore the role of strength and power. A stronger posterior chain from deadlifts and plyometrics doesn’t just improve top speed; it makes each stride more efficient, preserving energy to maintain a higher average for longer. In my experience, a well-designed strength program can improve a player’s average match speed by 3-5% within a single season, which is a massive gain at the elite margin.
Ultimately, the average speed metric is a beautiful window into a player’s engine and their soccer IQ. It’s the unglamorous foundation upon which moments of brilliance are built. The winger’s 35 km/h sprint is useless if he’s spent the previous 80 minutes static, because he’ll never be in the right position to use it. The modern game, with its intense pressing and rapid transitions, is a war of attrition against distance and time. Embracing the direct, unvarnished work required to win that war—the relentless conditioning, the technical drills under fatigue, the honest video analysis—is what separates contenders from champions. So, while we rightly marvel at the lightning bolts, let’s pay equal respect to the constant, humming current of effort that powers the entire show. That’s where games are truly won and lost.