The Magic Number

De La Soul fans will know what I’m on about.
It’s three, and today’s blog post is documenting my first EVER hat-trick for my football team, a mere 12 years after I first pulled on the team jersey.

Some players get hat-tricks fairly regularly, but as a big, slow defender, I generally don’t get near the opposition goal much. To be honest, sometimes I don’t even get near the opposition half. But last night for some reason, caution was flung to the wind and I stepped up for one surprisingly calmly taken goal in the first half, another smooth finish halfway through the second, and then a desperate smack from a rebound off the keeper in the final 2 minutes.
Meh. It still counted.

My next hat-trick, should I have started some sort of pattern here, will therefore come in 2029, by which time I will be [ever so] old and we’ll all be playing football on hoverbikes and with laser footballs (or something).

I’m joking, of course. I will never score another hat-trick. Which is why I’m telling you all about this one. Our game last night might not have lived up to the excitement of Leicester’s or Sheffield United’s, but I’m unconcerned by that.

Three – it’s the magic number.

The Magic Number

Following on from April’s Five post, today brings with it my daughter’s third birthday. Scoop, as she is affectionately known (because of her innate ability and regular wish to be scooped up and carried by her dad), has brought 36 months of pleasure, insomnia, love and laughter into our lives.

As she and the 6000 family hit this milestone, whereby choking hazards become a thing of the past, I’d like to dedicate this song to the next year of her life – let’s hope it’s a magic year:

Happy Birthday, Scoopy!