Posted by The Masked Player & Keepy-Uppies
The big match today was graced by the presence of The Masked Player. Due to what can be termed Domestic Policy he isn’t allowed to play our code of football, a rougher, hybrid version of walking football that replicates soccer to a high degree but this cannot be said for the walking aspect of it. But by subterfuge akin to a John Le Carre novel, he manages to don his boots occasionally by getting a mate among us to pay his £4 subs so that the card payment doesn’t show up on his statement. In a previous turnout he sustained a big toe injury that flared up to resemble a plum. This he concealed on his return home, despite the pain, until he could later stage a DIY accident in which a hammer dropped upon it to explain its enlarged state and purple hue.
Apart from the goal I scored, another passage of play particularly pleased me. The ball steepled high into the air from a clearance and I heard one player deploy an expletive in his vociferous assertion that he had no intention of getting in the way of it upon its descent from the clouds. However, I positioned myself in its landing path and cushioned it with my right foot and effected a pass to a teammate all in one sublime action that drew forth an utterance of praise from Pete Hyde the opposition midfield engine-house. When asked what enabled me to execute such an impressive play I would say it is the hours spent on the training ground. Well, more like minutes now, due to lack of time and commitments, practicing ball control. Keepy-uppies being my favourite and my record is 265. Whenever I mention I am good at keepy-uppies to non-football aficionados it always seems to provoke the response that at my age such a thing can only be achieved with chemical assistance.
Unfortunately, when I have the time for football training in my garden I am inevitably stopped in my tracks by neighbours wishing to conduct a conversation. Nothing wrong with that and much preferable to living alongside nasty people. But it isn’t conducive to honing my skills for the big game. In my frustration I have been known to exclaim that Maradona and Pele must’ve had some bloody awful neighbours.
Jonty Morgan Humourist 