Sport and legs

It’s Monday morning and I’m in need of rest. Luckily for me, I can: nothing on the agenda save a bit of typing. What a week we’ve just had! A week full of sport. A week so full of sport it’s wiped my brain clear of everything that came before. Listen: I refereed six football matches, played two, and also had a marathon three hour session of squash. Don’t know how I made it through. I’m starting to question whether I’m even human.

It all began on Tuesday reffing a game for Brian Deane’s Soccer Academy versus Halifax Town. Nice chap, Brian Deane. Scored the first ever goal in the Premier League nearly twenty years ago. Ought to try and get him down the five-a-side sometime. Though he says his body’s pretty beat now so he gets his fix by helping young lads get into the game. Some of them are on the books of professional clubs. Was a decent, relaxed match, and Brian didn’t give me no stick when I denied his side what was probably a penalty (I had my reasons). And they won anyway.

Me leg went, though, right at the beginning of the match – something in the muscles on the back of the old left swinger. Right from the calf up to the hamstring, and especially at the back of the knee. Was painful, and especially so afterwards. But I soldiered on, and nursed it through Wednesday’s game – Leeds Met women against Liverpool John Moore; most refreshing after the blokes, all giggles and sportsmanship – and then Thursday was the long mad squash session which was due to be followed by only my second played eleven-a-side match in about two years. A long mad two hour session without even a half-time break on the 3G at Weetwood. Lovely match. Quality football. Wise old players spraying it about accurately and thoughtfully. All this young men’s football I’ve been watching – but there’s nothing beats experience.

And, unbelievably, I survived, despite the leg and the squash and then it was to the weekend, and the prospect of five matches in two days. It loomed large and I wasn’t sure it was humanly possible. And maybe it wasn’t. But I did it.

Saturday morning I refereed in the Yorkshire Christian League and then did the students in the afternoon. Leg in serious jeopardy by now. But still Sunday to get through. The morning in Bradford, in a dirty game full of swearing and scuffles in which I gave four yellow cards and one red. A new personal best. Was a real headache and I was willing on the end. A real unpleasant bunch of people. But then the final whistle goes and everyone’s smiles and all those that have been questioning and berating my every decision are suddenly saying, best ref we’ve had all season, and I start thinking that maybe it was fun. Crazy men. Luckily just the students in the afternoon, quiet boys running around happy in the shining sun just gentle banter and plenty smiles. The leg holds up and I’ve a couple of hours rest till five-a-side, and unbelievably I feel fit and strong where even a few weeks back I was huffing and puffing even without injury and a ridiculous amount of sport behind me. Played the game full of pace and passion and we won a real enjoyable match something like 10-6.

I must have reached some level of fitness. Nice to know that I can do all that and still come home unknackered. You get to an age like thirty-six and you start to think it’s all over. But even Thursday, after squash and with the bad leg, I was outsprinting fit and fast students. So life in the old dog yet. And long may it continue.

And even though I say I’m looking forward to a day off today, and pretty stiff and knackered, I know if I got the call for some squash or a kickabout, I’d be on it. My life is sport these days. Sport and typing. Sport and typing and spending pleasant time at home, alone or with the missus. It’s enough. It’s a good life, for me. My reffing pays my way in the world – rent and bills and food and hobbies – and affords me all the free time I need. Student days are lovely. It’ll be sad when they come to an end. Although just because they come to an end doesn’t mean I have to stop living like this. In fact, I should have more free time when they’re over, and certainly less headaches, as I’ll no longer be squeezing my paisley-shaped brain into the square hole of academia. As long as I can be content with living in the cheapest flat in Leeds and never having more than a tenner spare a week I’ll be good. Only children will scupper that, I suppose.

So that was my week. A week of sport and legs. Now it’s Monday morning and I’m in bed with my tea and gown. I might watch a movie. I might do a bit of uni work. There are crumpets in the cupboard and plenty of bread and cheese and I’ve no reason to go anywhere. In any case, sport’ll be starting again soon – could be the same all over again – and so a day of rest perhaps quite wise. Monday’s the new Sunday. I like these Mondays off, when the world goes to work and leaves me be…