Juneathon Football. Oops.

In time honoured “let’s shake up my stale running/cycling habits” tradition, an invitation from Gary a month ago was renewed on Thursday to join in a game of football with a load of his mates. Gary lives in Leytonstone. Not very local for me, local for Cathy’s old house, but that’s full at the moment, so it was with luck that he was involved in organising a game or three in Hollingbourne. 8 miles up the road.

Now that’s local.

So, all was looking good. Except my football credentials extend to having last played (badly) in 1996. 13 years ago. And i’ve partaken in next to no team pursuits since. Still, it’s the summer, what can go wrong?

Well, looking at the other team, lots. They turned out to be the Hollingbourne village side. 8 of our lot had played together before, which left 2 forwards and a left mid-fielder and me (central midfield) with no plans at all. And kicking the ball reminded me how much it’ll hurt when it hits. And looking at a lot of shin pads and a lot of big blokes when I had none and aren’t exactly the largest man on the planet didn’t excite me.

Still I had the Garmin on to see how far i’d go and it was sunny. Very sunny. And Cathy had agreed to sit on the side in Wag fashion and see how it went.

So, how did it go? Very averagely well to be honest. I did duck a couple of balls (can’t wear contact lenses, can’t focus without glasses, did head the ball once, only to lose my glasses in the process. At least they were old shades!), but tackled a bit, intercepted a load, passed more than I thought I would and only caused an exasperated shout of frustration in one of our more competitive players once. He was a bit good though, so playing with a fool like me must have been frustrating. I put myself in a good enough position to get two free balls just outside their box, only to sky one and hit one just wide, but it was fun and smiles all round were rewarded with us winning 6-5. Quite how, I don’t know. Pressure, two of us in the mid-field always chasing their players into mistakes and a good striker, I think. We looked like a team, despite everything. I’ve got evidence too, look.

An action shot

I’m not always running away from the ball, honest! I’m the one in white trainers and sunglasses – how out of place?

Running away, so the nasty ball doesn't hurt me

Still, the Garmin showed how lazy a footballer can be. I was swapped to right defence for the second half of the second half, reflected in a distance drop in the last 20 minutes, but finished up with 1hour 32 minutes resulting in 5.07 miles run. I don’t think I stayed still all the while the ball was in play, which was good but shows how little work goes into a game. I guess a striker, hunting less than half a pitch, may be lucky to break 2 miles in a game. No wonder Rooney’s a little porker.

But, it was enjoyed. And it was a change. And no-one beat me up for being too crap afterwards. Guess some of the Hollingbourne side will themselves, though. It must be embarrassing being done over by a bunch of misfits.

Oh, and my shins survived.