I'll be fifty one this year and last night I was playing open age football with a bunch of eighteen year olds. I was doing alright too, tackling, dribbling, sprinting and leaving the young fellas in my wake. Until I fell over the ball and hit the ground like a sack of ....
I used to run the social soccer at my club, and have grown to know almost every player, many of whom came through from under 13s and who now play in the first team. The instant I hit the ground, the whistle went, and I was surrounded by concerned young guys (my 13 year-old son included). There were murmurings of "might need an ambulance" and "I definitely heard something snap".
I was unhurt, however, and jumped to my feet.
This caused such wonderment that applause broke out. I heard two young fellas on the other team exchanging words. One of them mistakenly thought that the other had fouled me. The accused protested his innocence. This was all done in whispers.
I began to consider the possiblity...no, it couldn't be... Rather than me being a freak super-athlete, defying my years and cocking a snook at father time, had these lads been going easy on me for years?
I got the ball, dribbled past a couple of first team players, knocked the ball long, took to my toes up the left wing, my hair whistling in the wind, and sent in an inch-perfect cross to the goal.
Jogging back to my position, I dismissed my doubts. No, fit, strong and fast as these young fellas are, They're not cutting me any slack. I'm outrunning them using sheer experience.
