Winter’s done, the wee yin’s football’s done. It’s grand final time on the telly. For a wee moment it felt like the doors werenae just closed to keep the cool, conditioned air in. So the end of season party in the park was awesome. The kids had a kickabout and we had cakes with green […]Read more "end of"
It’s the end of season break up barbie this saturday. Snags and bread and cakes and flasks of tea in the park. The wee yin’s first football season will be over. The final whistle blown (add other rubbish, cliched sporting analogies as you see fit). I’ll write the end of season report in its wake. […]Read more "a moment of hair twirling"
The last two game reports have gone missing because I was marking papers. It was a massive effort last week. And then this week I got smashed with the flu. The matches, the first poorly and the second extravagantly good, seem to be sitting on the opposite end of my see saw. The away match […]Read more "A bad loss and a big win"
The wee yin’s fitba was cancelled. The other team (the weakest) decided a wee bit of rain was too much. So we had a knock about. Though only after the kids had chased each other round the park for twenty minutes because I forgot the equipment. I made amends by providing the funds for team […]Read more "A real win"
The wee yin had a cracking game this weekend, possibly her best yet. She was right in amongst it; winning tackles, dribbling the ball, fending off much bigger lads and demonstrating a little of the fearless courage I know is lurking beneath the girly-pink exterior. I was very proud. Awfully, terribly, grinning-widely proud. Except for […]Read more "normal service resumes"
My favourite moment during last saturday’s defeat was watching the wee yin run the length of the pitch without ever taking her eyes off the dog the guy was walking on the touchline. I’m sure our coach thought he saw a spark of the visionary movement of a Dalgliesh or a Cruyff in her electrifying […]Read more "things didn’t go so well…"
My wife’s convinced that I am too old to play football. And let’s face it, she knows me better than anyone. After a third trip to the physio in a week and two missed shifts at work, the injury I picked up having a kickaround with some like-minded souls will have cost us somewhere in […]Read more "am I too old for football?"
I’ve been threatening to post Andrew C Ferguson’s interview answers on my football fiction blog for some time. He’s shown great patience. It’s taken me too long to get it sorted out and even longer to build some rhythm into blogging this year. The delay while not without want or intention, has been lengthier than […]Read more "Andrew C Ferguson talks football fiction"
My daughter played her first organised game. This was no football fiction. It was the real thing. And the story couldn’t have worked out any better. She raced to join the swarm around the ball and as quickly fell into step as it wheeled across the grass like starlings in an autumn sky. While her […]Read more "with the ball at her toes"
It’s so very hot and the fat man in the red suit is still wearing a woolly suit, a woollier fur lined hat, a giant beard and a pair of wellies. Or in the case of the one I saw in the shopping centre last week, it’s steel toe capped paramilitary boots. See for me, […]Read more "Santa’s boots"