We turned up at the park at 9.45am, on Sunday 22nd Febuary, 2009. We felt good about this. As I sipped my Red Bull (sugar-free, of course), I looked around at my team-mates. We were all happy and looking forward to the game. As usual.
We entered the changing room and sat on the bench. I did what I do before every match. I sat silently listening to the others cracking jokes, poking fun at each other, moaning about the latest Reading FC match. I like to get mentally prepared. I visualise us winning. I visualise myself scoring. But I hadn’t scored in 10 games, so I wasn’t that optimistic. I’m a good player. I know that. I’m quick, agile, I can dribble, I can pass and I can definitely score. I just…hadn’t. However, this was a better chance than any. Not only had I not scored, but we hadn’t won yet. We were bottom of Division 4 East, in the Reading & District Sunday League. Our single point, from a 2-2 draw a few weeks earlier, made us look worse than we were. But the team above us had won only one game – because their opponents forfeited. They’d also conceded about 4 times as many goals as us. This was our best chance for a win all season.
There was a bit of confusion as our pitch had been waterlogged and we weren’t told, but we managed to get the groundsman to put nets up after being satisfied with the turf. It was muddy, but playable. We looked at our opponents. My first thought was that we looked better. Our smart, clean, blue-and-white-hooped shirts looked more impressive than their faded orange and black strip. My second thought – they had less players. Nine, in fact. That’s when it struck me. There was no way we’d lose this match.
I was a substitute, which didn’t surprise me as I was goalless. And, for an attacker, that’s not good. I stood on the sideline, hoping for a decent start to the game. We kicked off. Straight away, we got the ball up the field. It came to nothing. The keeper took the goal kick. Well, I say he took it…he kind of ran up to the ball and lamely toe-punted it across the floor, much to the hilarity of our team. We kept the attack going. Within two minutes of the kick-off, we scored. I can’t remember how, so don’t ask. The match restarted, we got the ball again, we scored. And again. And again. Within 15 minutes, we were winning 5-0. By half time, we were winning 11-0.
The focus of the half-time team talk was not to concede. We wanted a clean sheet. I was told I’d be playing in the second half. But not right away.
The second half started. We scored again. And again. I came on when it was about 14-0. I went on the right wing, but couldn’t create much. The manager wanted me to get a goal, so he put me upfront. The left-winger gave me the ball. I turned. I’m a quick player, so I was confident I’d outrun the defender. And I did. I took a couple of touches, into the 18-yard box and side-footed it. My heart sank as I watched it head towards the ‘keeper. But luck was on my side. The ball crept underneath him and hit the back of the net.
I was ecstatic. I’d finally done it. I then played a sweet ball to the overlapping left-back, my manager, who scored his second by slotting it in at the near post.
The final score – 19-0
Fantastic. Not only had we moved up one place to 9th (second bottom), we’d drastically improved our goal difference – now standing at zero.
We go into the game this Sunday morning knowing that we are good enough to win. We won’t move up a place if we do, but the points will be vital.
And I can’t wait to get the chance to score my second of the season.
DJC
