Monday 12/04/10

I've played a lot of football this week. Twice a week is a lot for me. Last night was a casual affair with mates during which I scored (not itself extraordinary given the scoreline must have finished about 13-all) an uncharacteristically courageous diving header. Reluctance to fling myself into the physical side of any sport is a remnant of playing rugby as a ten year old for school. I was quick but had a BMI in single figures so whenever I was tackled I had no ground impact protection in the form of muscle or fat. Bruises were common and painful. Still, I overcame this profound psychological barrier (which may just have been me not wishing to jump into dirt) and assisted my team with my graceful goalhanging and falling over into the path of the ball.

I also played football last Thursday with people from work, including my boss's boss and his boss. I'm too professional to humiliate them because of this association, so I just played awesomely and made them look bad for no reason at all.

At the end of the game we were told that there would be no football this week because there would be workmen in the sports hall. All well and good until we were told that they were coming to remove asbestos from the roof.

I'm asthmatic so my lungs aren't 100%, and because of this I think that I deserve a few more goals, or at least some sort of handicap, for playing in an environment where asbestos is prevalent. I'm not totally sure my inhaler is capable of handling that sort of challenge. I can barely breathe when I have hayfever so I can't wait to see how I cope when the lung cancer kicks in.

I'm grateful that the summer appears to be on its way. You aren't forced to breathe lungfuls of unpure, sweaty, asbestos tainted air in a crappy sports hall and can move out onto the astroturf pitches. It's possible to play football outside and people who are resistant to sport, for seemingly no other reason than it gets dark early, from October to March come out of their holes and join in with a casual kickaround.

Another welcome arrival when spring hits is the booze. I don't know why but drinking on a park bench all afternoon and evening in winter (unless at Christmas) doesn't have the same attraction as sitting in a pub beer garden and chilling with a pint in the sun. You're wasting time, talking bollocks with your friends and slowly killing your liver, but the heat and sunlight justifies it.