What a hit

Last night’s result might not have been great, but it was a really good night out, and we did get to see this goal by Mbekezeli Mbokazi.

Ooh, I say…
Pick. That. Out.

On a more serious note, football matches remain THE best, most multi-cultural, most enjoyable, greatest community-building events in South Africa. We were surrounded by every race, every language last night, and people just engage with one another over a common activity.
All friendly faces, no trouble, no stress, just a really happy night full of good vibes.

How it should be.

Just not a good result.

Last night was great

I arrived early enough for a few kms along the Prom: I love a flat run on a decent surface. I don’t mind a hilly run, and I don’t mind an off-road surface, but it’s nice to treat yourself once in a while.

And then I headed into the best game of football I’ve played in for quite a while. A full-on, tight, energy-sapping battle of attrition, with chances few and far between, and in which we had our backs to the wall for a lot of the time, with fewer subs (1) and some challenges with our… “quite advanced” age.

But those are the best games to play in, and they are the best games to win.

Which we did. 3-1.

I am – obviously – quite broken today, but as the team President pointed out, it was completely worth it.

He didn’t play, though, so he can still walk.

That was the last game of this season, and my legs will be happy to take a break next Wednesday, before we head back into battle for the next 10 weeks.

But this was a good one to go out on.

More like this, please.

Let’s do this again

14 years on, and we haven’t learned a thing.

We’re supposed to be grown-ups. Adults. And yet, at 6pm this evening, we’ll head out onto the pitch for another potentially epic 5-a-side football game against some other supposed adults.

Nothing wrong with that, you might think – if you aren’t in Cape Town, that is, because if you are in Cape Town then you know very well that there’s something very wrong with it – because it’s rather warm out.

Really actually quite warm already.
Almost bordering on hot, one could argue.

And, as I alluded to above, there’s history here. And it really isn’t pretty.

It was horrible. One of the worst footballing experiences of my life. Within 2 minutes of running around, I was gasping, drenched through with sweat, and feeling dizzy and nauseous. These, even by Cape Town standards, were extreme conditions. The ball wasn’t even flying through the air properly. I felt truly awful.
Some sort of sense of self-preservation should probably have kicked in here. But it didn’t. And so, with a couple of breaks, we continued to toil for an hour. What utter, utter idiots.

We all (mostly) remember (some of) that day.
I think my therapist called it PTSD: Phenomenal Temperature, Stupid Decision.

And it’s already 6 degrees warmer today than it was back on that day in February 2012.

Common sense says that they call the games off this evening. At best, it’s going to be extremely unpleasant, at worst, it could actually be dangerous. But they probably won’t. And that being the case, common sense says that we should forfeit the game. But that’s absolutely not how we roll, and I grudgingly have to respect our determination. Even though we’re clearly being very daft here.

I really wouldn’t recommend such bravado though.
To coin Wilfred Owen:

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro manus mori.

The game is still going ahead as I write this.

See you on the other side, I guess.
And yes, you can choose any meaning of that phrase that seems fit.

We keep going

Another win, and this one after we’d been really poor in the first half. And then we went and scored three goals. I don’t know what happened, but it looked like the same old, same old when we got to half time, and then someone put a firecracker under our collective arses in the second period.

Still, I’m not complaining. My only gripe is that the excitement and adrenaline prevented me from sleeping for quite a lot of the night. And that’s left me a bit broken today.

On the plus side, I’m off to emulate some of the heroics from last night by playing a bit of the old togger tonight, for the first time in ages.

As I type, it’s only 33C out there, so I’m sure it’ll be an extremely uncomfortable a fun and pleasant experience.

I’m staying home this evening

OK, I have a daughter to pick up about 10, but other than that.

But staying home mainly because I am completely broken after football last night. Everything hurts, to mangle an REM song.
Sure, we got soundly beaten, but I ran around an awful lot, and if I’m absolutely honest, we really didn’t deserve the scoreline (which I’m not going to share). Neither did I deserve the nice stud mark above my right knee and the associated bruising, but that’s just one of those things.

I’m willing to admit that most of the pain is self-inflicted, though.

Same again next week, then?

Absolutely.