So the week after my Vet's debut and we have no game on the usual Sunday morning. The opportunity to play for the 5's on Saturday afternoon was offered and in the spirit of wanting to get as much game-time in as possible I accepted the offer. I even persuaded Phil to make an appearance as well. Phil was the one who introduced me to Latymer in the first place as this was his 'Saturday' team, but he had taken a bit of a step away from Saturday football to focus on playing for his Sunday team. Phil has become a good pal over the past year through working in our day job together and it's always more fun when you play football with those who are your mates. Damien, my best mate, has gone a bit towards golf these days and even suggested I take it up!I think a one armed midget with blurred vision could swing a golf club better than me and get round a course in half the shots it would take me so I politely declined and decided to stick to putting myself through potential hell. Having said that, Damien recently played in a charity match (no he's not a celebrity) and reassured me that he still 'bossed the midfield'. He scored too so I think he's got the bug to play again. He's 36 too so is on standby to play for the Vets if we get stuck so watch this space.
So Phil managed to get a game with me in the 5's and off we went for what was to be a memorable afternoon for yours truly.
We eventually found the right entrance and met up with the rest of the team. The contrast between my first experience with the Vet's and this team was massive because the 5's were full of kids. Lev was there, as ever, and a few other older lads such as Neal and Andy, but I was looking at a bunch of 16 year olds. I was just about old enough to be their Dad which was a shocking revelation. I was a bit worried about the lack of experience - made worse because we had to start with ten men because two were 'running late.'
Right from the off we invited pressure. I was actually feeling pretty confident and managed to get Jamie, our young Centre Back to take goal kicks. There were even a couple of nine year olds behind my goal who became ball-boys so I happily avoided getting shagged chasing the ball. Result!
Phil was playing up front but we couldn't really get the ball up to him so he cut a frustrated figure and by the time our two missing players arrived we were ten minutes in and not an awful lot had happened...And then it became the best game I've had in a long time.
Now, readers of my fledgling posts will have noticed that I am more than willing to be brutally honest about any errors and gaffs I have made in the line of goalkeeping duty. So you must forgive me if this post becomes a bit of a boast fest but I had an absolute corker of a game.
Their main striker was, to put it bluntly, built like the side of a shit brick-house. He was about 6ft 4" and was ripped to pieces. I'll call him Steroid Steve. Or SS for short. This boy was clearly good in the air and at any opportunity they chucked it up for him to get his head on it. My first stop saw a header from SS that came in low to my right. A firm hand popped it round the post. We were off and running. My confidence and stature grew and when a shot came curling in I flew through the air to my left and put the ball wide. OK, so that particular shot was probably going wide anyway - but I wasn't to know that!! Another couple of high, looping cross/shots came at me and I did enough to get finger tips to put these wide too! I was even coming out for crosses and getting some punches to clear the ball.
A ball was played over my back four and as it came down just inside my box I could see I wasn't going to get to it before it bounced. Bounce it did - and bounce high. Out of the corner of my eye Steroid Steve was charging towards the ball and we were on a head on collision course which would only have one winner and that certainly wasn't going to be me. I hung back a stride and as he went up to head it past me, somehow I managed to get a proper strong slap on the ball - almost a volley ball move - and clear the ball away. Steroid Steve wasn't a dirty player but he clattered in to me and I felt like I'd been hit by a train. I landed like I'd been dropped from about twenty feet and I thought I was dead. The adrenaline got me up - just - and I did the old rub of the knee, making out I was alright. He'd hit me hard but I'd decided that nothing was going to go past me today!! That feeling lasted until just before half time when in one foul swoop I undid all of my hard work with the standard, predictable and unavoidable error that I just can't seem to get away from - even on such an 'on' day! I had dealt with a cross by getting a good fist on it, to get it away and thought to myself that the next time a similar ball came in that I should catch it. I mean why not? I was in superb form and could do no wrong today...
Two minutes later and we were 1-0 down. The ball came in from my left and was at such a good height and it was coming in at eye level. I thought right, this is it - Catch it. I even managed to scream "KEEPERS!!" and popped both hands up. The ball flew straight into my gloved hands - and then straight out again. It passed through like a hot knife thorough butter and went through the crowded six yard box to their player who prodded home. I couldn't believe it. It felt like the goalkeeping Gods were determined not to let me get carried away and had given me a gentle reminder that even though I was saving certain goals with flying saves, I was always going to make shocking errors.
I had time to recover by getting my body and hands behind a stinging free kick which re-instilled some confidence and then it was half time.
I was fired up and made a bit of an apology to the team. Phil was his usual positive self with much appreciated praise at the saves I'd made but I was gutted at that stupid error.
The second half got under way and I just hoped that I wouldn't cock up again. As it turned out, it was quite the opposite.
The match was barely back underway when our defence was carved right open with a pass that put their striker through one-on-one. He had red hair so we'll call him Ginge. Ginge had time. I mean he had plenty of time. He came forward into the box and rather than rush out I thought I'd stand my ground just pasy my six yard line and see what happened. Ginge unleashed a rocket of a shot which was flying well past my right and was quite low. Before I knew it I had launched myself sideways and got a full clean palm on it to put it wide. Talk about bloody reactions! My old nickname 'The Cat' gave itself a dusting off and planted itself firmly onto the back of my shirt - cos I was back!! It was an unbelievable save. In fact that was Lev's cry as the ball went round the post, and I was duly set upon by a mass of disbelieving team mates. Ginge was gutted but he was a good lad and offered a firm handshake in recognition of the stop.
But there was more...
Another lad was clean through into the box from our left and fired at my near post - strong hand put it wide.
Steroid Steve had another header which was popped clear away.
We went 2-0 down whan a long, looping speculative cross/shot that I genuinly couldn't get near, smacked against my left post and rebounded straight onto Ginge's head. He couldn't miss, and didn't.
3-0 was a cutback from our by-line to the edge of the six yard box that they couldn't miss from. The amount of chances that they had (and were denied from!) could have seen a cricket score so I could live with 3-0.
We struggled to create much really and apart from a couple of free kicks on goal we did't really trouble them.
There was time at the end to put in two more superb stops that are well worth a mention.
Another break on our goal led to a cross cominn in from my right. It found its way over to Ginge who powered a head on to the ball. I had watched the ball all the way and once it was goal bound it was going top left. It was nearly point blank - and yet The Cat got his finger tips on it to put it over. Ginge couldn't believe it. He was ready to go home I think.
And finally (and by this time it was just an onslaught) three of them lined up to have a shot. Their number 7 had been desperate to get a shot in all game and he fired in a similar way to Ginge's earlier effort that I'd saved. This time a I flew to my left a managed to parry the ball. It went back and another on of them had a go - I closed the angle and he fire over.
I was absolutely shattered at the end - but elated. Lev was full of kind words - I think he was thinking about The Vets and all that and Phil really gave me a boost in the car on the way home with genuine praise. He felt it would have been double figures if not for me so I was really chuffed. He even sent me a text later telling me he thought I'd be "excellent."
Ewelina listened patiently as I replayed every moment and ran me a bath, scrubbed my back and made me a super dinner.
Life was awfully good.
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