Tag: tfafc

If anything, the pain is getting worse

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A surprise double header for our 5-a-side team on Tuesday night. We literally found out about the second game just as we were heading onto the pitch for the first game. And while we love playing football, a double header is never great when you are a) old and… well… that’s about it, really.

We are the oldest team in the league by some distance. Some of the guys we play against weren’t even born when our team was founded, and I’d wager that I was older than each of the opposition’s dads in our second game.

But we played well. The first game was a really tight affair. It finished 7-8, and we were incredibly unlucky not to get something out of it.

Something other than getting completely knackered, that is.

I had a family thing I needed to get to. The Chilean had a restaurant to go and manage. At least several of our players would like to have gone and drunk some beer.

But no.

It was straight onto the other court and straight back into battle.

Dead on our feet, we somehow, bewilderingly managed to get to 3-0 up at half time. But then, playing into the blinding sun and the (actually rather pleasant) breeze, their comeback came back. Before too long, it was 3-3 and the momentum was only heading one way.

Courage, belief, attitude and an unwillingness to concede again kicked in. It was all automatic: there was absolutely nothing left in our respective tanks. But we threw ourselves in front of every shot, dragged every last ounce of energy to block a run; we left everything out there.

And we got a goal just before the end.

4-3, and our first win since September (it’s complicated, ok?). And it could not be sweeter. We struggled off the pitch to a cold beer. We staggered off to our respective destinations. And then yesterday morning, we reminisced on just how good it felt to win, and just how completely broken we all were when we woke up.

Imagine my dismay then, when I awoke this morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and then tried to get out of bed. Oh my deity.

If anything, the pain is getting worse.

I’m suddenly dreading tomorrow.

Nights like these

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Last night was amazing.

Some aging footballers, forced into a double header, back-to-back against teams much higher than them in the log, both of whom had fresh legs from not playing twice that evening, and from “being young”.

And yet, against all the odds, we came out with two huge wins.

It’s like a Hollywood movie script yet to be written.

The first match, surprising in its eventual 9-3 margin, and taking full advantage of the other side forced into capitulating early in the second half, was a masterclass in taking chances. I even scored a goal with my face.
The second one though, was arguably even better. A tight 4-3 win in a real slog of a game, which became bad tempered and downright nasty towards the end; our opponents’ arrogance clearly on display and their displeasure at getting beaten by a team of “whining old men” so very enjoyable to witness.

My left thigh is a complete mess of bruises this morning from their naughtiness (yes, I’m probably too old for this), but I’m wearing them like a (painful) badge of honour after another one of those great football nights.

And maybe there’s more we can learn from this, with a somewhat lop-sided rugby semi-final coming up. A triumph for the written-off underdog, through sheer will, determination, a never-say-die team spirit, the willingness to give it all for each other, and full commitment no matter what.

Or maybe that was just us last night.

But what a night.

It’s here!

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Tonight sees the start of the 2009 7-a-side Corporate Soccer League (Cape Town, Wednesdays, Season 1) and I’m itching (not literally) to get back on the field so that I can be all screwed up in a ball of agony by this time tomorrow.


Your host taking on some rotund Italians last year

Things have changed a bit since that photo was taken. I’m probably very slightly slower, the Italians never returned after we beat them 2-0 and I had major surgery in October to remove the Let’s Play banner from between my shoulder blades.
Yes, this year will be a challenge: I’m older than I have ever been before and I haven’t kicked a football in anger since November. But you never forget how – it’s like riding a bike, albeit nowhere near as dangerous.
Doesn’t mean I won’t give it my all as usual, though.
Just means it’ll hurt more tomorrow.

(Check twitter [in sidebar] later this evening for a score update)
(Assuming we win)
(Otherwise I probably won’t bother)

MiniEdit: Tools of the trade via TwitPic