This year has taught me one thing. I’m old. Very old.
Maybe it’s subconscious. In that I know I have turned 40, and therefore I act like I am 40. Does that make sense?
Last weekend me and a bunch of old guys were invited by my brother to play an 11-a-side game of football against the under-16s team he coaches. He invited me several months ago, and at the time I figured it would be a great idea. I could train for it, get my fitness up, and dazzle everyone as if I was prime-Messi. Leading up to the match, I trained a total of zero times. I ran a total of zero times. In fact, I somehow gained 4kg instead.
What? Kebabs aren’t nutritious? I get a salad in there.
In my defence I hadn’t gone for a run since February due to a foot injury. I’d like to say it was because of a ski injury or something adventurous like that. Unfortunately it was anything but adventurous. I dropped the Dyson battery on my foot as I was vacuuming. Yep. The adventures of a 40 year old.
From that day on I woke up every morning with a sharp pain in my foot and hobbled from A to B at the beginning of each day. For months. My foot started feeling better a couple of weeks ago… but then there was the heatwave.
No. These are not excuses.
Shut your face.
Mrs OddFather warned me about going into the game without training or stretching – but who am I to listen to her sound logic? It was only an 80 minute match – what could possibly go wrong?
Surprisingly, there were a good few adults up for it so we had more than enough numbers. I got to the game a bit later than a starting 11 so I started the game as a neutral linesman. The adults went 1-0 up and I started to feel concerned for the under-16s. Then the under-16s scored 2 goals on the bounce. I had the opportunity to rule the goals out for offside. But they were onside for both. Going back I would have raised my invisible offside flag.
Eventually – after about 20ish minutes – one of the parents had enough and it was time for me to come on and shine.
Firstly, those sports bibs are such a faff. I felt like I was being reborn just trying to get it over my head.
But once the bib was on in the right way I was ready to go. There was an attack and I ran up the pitch. Before I could get on the end of a ball the under-16s took possession and went on the counter-attack. I ran back to defence (where I think I was supposed to be playing). And after that little bit of running… I was done.
Unfit is an understatement. I continued until half time – I’m pretty sure I didn’t touch the ball in that time. But I was adapting and able to pace myself more.
After a half time drink of a river of water I was ready. Again.
This time I was more smart with how and when I moved. And then I rolled my ankle. I had to tag out.
Luckily I was quick to listen to my body and removed myself from hurting it more. With a bit of rest on the sidelines I was able to go again for the end of the game with renewed energy.
I went for a ball against one of the kids. It was a 50-50. But this time I could use my weight to full effect. In I went…
And I was outmuscled.
By a schoolkid.
I WAS OUTMUSCLED BY A SCHOOLKID!
I was floored and hit the back of my head on the floor. I can still feel the pain now. Maybe it’s concussion. Or maybe it’s just my inner hypochondriac finally getting the evidence he’s always wanted.
Anyway. I continued and decided my only hope was to play a bit dirty. As I defended a corner I saw I was marking my nephew who was playing for the under-16s. As the ball came in I pushed my nephew. It so happened I pushed him in the direction of the ball and he scored.
It wasn’t all bad – I did take a shot on my weaker foot which hit the opposition kid on the hand. Penalty. Which was converted by someone else with more skill than me. And so the game came to an end.
It was pretty close. We lost 7-2.
My nephew got a hat-trick and was awarded man young person of the match. Jammy bugger.
The next day I felt very sore. And hungover. Weirdly the biggest pain I had was my neck muscles. Must have been from all the ball-watching. Luckily I was able to relax had to take the OddKids and their visiting cousin to the playground on Sunday by orders of Mrs OddFather.
Something has to change.
I’m going to lose weight.
Get fit.
Start running again.
…
I’ll start next month.
Future Me has always been much more motivated than Present Me.
