Life goes on

Although we never lifted the cup, it has still been a great weekend, with a further triathlon progression. Everton lost out yesterday simply because they lacked the strength in depth of their opponents. That said, imagine Chelsea without Terry, Lampard and Drogba and you can get some idea of how the blues felt yesterday missing Jagielka, Arteta and Yakubu. It was always going to be difficult, and we almost made it harder by scoring so quickly. Chelsea, their pride stung, had 89 minutes to make amends. They did, but only after Saha missed a chance when the sides were locked at 1-1 which would have given us the lead. But it wasn't to be, and congratulations must go to Gus Hiddink, that rarity of a Chelsea manager who doesn't lack humility. His are very large boots to fill.

This morning was way more successful as I managed to swim my first mile in open-water. As a guest of The City of Liverpool swimming Club, I enjoyed pleasant company and expert tuition, and my technique came along leaps and bounds as a result. After just 45 minutes in the water I felt excited, confident and optomistic. Moreover, I felt the excitement of discovery as I immediately began setting my sites towards the half-ironman distance and beyond. Not since I joined Mossley Hill Athletics Club prior to starting my first marathon training have I felt such sporting butterflies. The sheer nature of the triathlon appeals to my love of diversity, whilst the non-impact nature of the training will help my ailing limbs and joints. I have a spring in my step which will be very useful tomorrow morning as I embark on 20 miles on the bike, followed by a 4 mile run. The road to the ironman starts tomorrow morning.

Now for the weekend

My 13 hour days are now over until Tuesday, and a most exciting weekend is about to begin. Can the mighty blues do it and beat Chelsea tomorrow?. I think we can, but only if we score first. I'm saying 1-0, with Cahill grabbing the all-important goal. Come on the lads!!!

I will be returning to the banks of the Mersey on Sunday to practise my open-water swimming in preparation for the triathlon. It would be nice if it followed the open-top bus tour as Everton parade the streets of Liverpool with the FA cup. I, and Philip who is very excited, are dreaming of success.

Last 8 in the Woolton Tournament

A 1-0 defeat in the quarter final saw the green machine bravely bow out. We were the better side, but a failure to convert our chances proved costly. The only two teams to beat us today contested the final, with Formby the red-hot favorites to win. A full report will be posted on www.marshallsfc.me.uk later on. In the meantime I am going to The River Mersey for an open-water swim practise. To say I am nervous is an understatement. Deep GULP. Yikes...

"This is Liam Deveney, Sky Sports News."

I've just sent an email to the head of Sky sports in the North West with a view to spending a shift or two with one of their reporters. The more I think of it, the more I like the thought of working for Sky. Surrounded by sport, I would be in heaven. I've crossed everything.

Sod's Law

Last night, when handed the opportunity to leave work an hour early, I changed in a flash. I bid farewell to my colleagues, both of whom were watching from the hostel entrance. I climbed on my bicycle and pedaling towards home. 10 yards later I was rendered stationery as a nail had entered my front tyre. In an instant my early dart had disappeared. I changed again, and began the 3/4 mile walk to the bus stop. I eventually got home around the time that I normally would have.

The only silver lining was that the bus driver was unable to give me change of a £5 note so I got a free trip. But it was scant consolation. After the excitement of Monday, and the opportunity to play on Everton's beautiful pitch, it was back to reality with a bang, (and a nail).

Match of the day

So, I can now say that I have played at at Goodison Park, and I have the photos, and the stiffness, to prove it. I am doing my best not to give myself a hard time, (as I always do) and am focusing on all of the positive aspects of todays event. It truly was a most memorable day on so many levels. Daryl and myself lined up on the same team, Philip walked out onto the pitch as a mascot, Ellie and Jane were in the stands cheering us on, and I played well, fully enjoying the run out, and providing some moments of quality . I should have scored, (I missed two chances, one glaring) I gave the ball away a few times, (rustiness) and I felt heavy, (by about two stone to be honest). But it was wonderful nonetheless, with playing on the best pitch of my career, (by a mile) to having DEVENEY on the back of my shirt adding to the occasion. To be treated like a professional footballer, albeit for a short time only, was fantastic, and has left me counting the days until we can do it all again.

The game itself went so quick it was over in a flash. I've never been so reluctant to leave the field of play, and I could have carried on for much longer. My fitness held up really well with my recent triathlon sessions paying dividends. Although lacking match sharpness I felt strong, and was running right up to the final whistle. I fully believe that I would have scored had the game ran for a further 10 minutes, as I was getting closer and closer. My sitter in front of goal was uncharacteristic as I shot with my right foot when I should, and usually would, have switched it to my left. As it was I quickly got on with the game, and shortly afterwards set up our second goal. I had also provided the pass for our first so I could claim two assists at least. I also felt more comfortable playing wide left in the second half as I know the position well. The opening 45 minutes were spent in central midfield, in direct opposition to two former professional players, one of which, (Joe Parkinson) could boast of an FA cup winners medal in his cabinet. I was impressed by how often they took the simple option, and they rarely gave the ball away. It was a salutary lesson in how top players play the game. I enjoyed the tussle, and I felt that I acquitted myself well. My head was held high when I finally, and reluctantly, left the pitch.

Following a quick shower we were ushered upstairs for a quick bite to eat and a well-earned drink. I then had the pleasure of having my photograph taken with 'The Butcher of Bilbao', the former Spanish International player called Goikoetxea. This is a man who earned his soubriquet by shattering the ankle of a young Diego Maradona back in the eighties. I am not normally impressed by fame but I felt that I wanted to meet this legend of European football. He was certainly more charming than when he played, and even attempted to get a kiss from Ellie for good measure. She however was having none of it, and offered him only the top of her head . She is no lover of reputations and, as she told me later, "he isn't my dad is he?." A wonderful sentiment from a most special day.

So many fantastic memories were made today and it would be hard to pick a favourite. If I was pushed I would choose the run I made from defence to attack in the middle of the first half. After collecting the ball in my own half I surged forward, and travelled 40 to 50 yards with the ball. Just for a fleeting moment I was Gazza in his pomp, switching the ball from one foot to another as I considered my options. When I finally made the pass it was intercepted, and the attack was halted in the process. But for three or four balmy seconds, as I ploughed a lone furrow through the centre of the pitch, leaving many overweight ex-footballers in my wake, I felt as good as I have ever done. It was worth it just for that. There was no happy ending, but sometimes there is no need for one. For today it was the process, and not the outcome, that mattered most.

Playing at Goodison Park

In little over 2 hours. I'm so excited. Full match report later.

Still fuming

Them MP's take the piss. I say sack every one of them who has 'flipped' their houses, claimed for mortgages that have been paid off, or just generally ripped us all off. They disgust me more each day.

Where did it all go wrong?

Michael Owen must wake up every day and kick himself. Twice. The first kick relates to being a multi-millionaire, stables-owning, helicopter-flying, 30-something superstar. The second strike however is a timely reminder of how quickly life can change in professional sport. As his career appears to be on the wane, and with potential suitors scarce, he must be regretting his move from Liverpool to Real Madrid more than ever. In pursuit of glory, (or was it euros?) he gave up his opportunity to become an Anfield legend, and headed off to La Liga. A few years on and he is danger of becoming the forgotten man of European football, out of favour with Capello, Shearer et al.

When he first burst on to the scene he seemed unstoppable, and destined for a trophy-laden career. Incredibly fast, composed and clinical, he was unstoppable for club, and a talisman for his country. His goal against Argentina in 98 will never be forgotten, nor will his FA cup winning double against Arsenal. But he then made the unwise choice of signing for Real Madrid, and he simply hasn't recovered. Cashing in on the fact that his contract was about to run out, (his wages at Madrid were astronomical) he swapped red for white, and loyalty for personal gain. An ill-fated season with Spain's premier club boosted only his bank balance as his confiidence suffered due to prolonged periods on the bench. With no interest shown by Liverpool, (his preferred option) he signed for Newcastle, and has remained there for the past 4 years. At the weekend he was substituted by his one-time strike partner for England, Alan Shearer, and he had largely been anonymous and could have no complaint. It was sad to witness his toothless display as it wasn't so long ago when he was terrorising defenders across Europe. He barely gets a mention nowadays when the talk is about the great strikers playing today, and he seems destined to miss out on both 100 caps, and the goalscoring record of Bobby Charlton which appeared a formality only a few years ago.

Back at Anfield, and another player who was on the verge of a mega move away from Anfield but who wisely chose to stay put, has just been voted FWA player of the year for 2009, and looks certain to lead his club to further glory. Steven Gerrard's and Michael Owen's careers ran parallel to each other for many years until Owen left. Gerrard toyed with leaving on two occasions but stayed put, and cemented his legend status in the process. How Michael Owen must look in envy at the status his former teammate enjoys. Admittedly he always gets an ovation when he returns to Anfield, and fans of the club will always speak kindly of his time as a player there. But he gave up any hopes of legend status when he left for Madrid, and it must still irk him to his day.

Life has obviously been good to Mr.Owen, the proud owner of his own cul-de-sac no less in leafy Hawarden. He has A-list friends, an impressive stable to indulge his passion for racehorses, and a beautiful family. But I fear, history will judge him as the man who had it all, and lost it when he left for Madrid.

It makes me angry

MP's expenses have generated so many headlines over the past few days that I'm not going to try and write and new ones. Like so many others I suspect I find myself angry beyond words with each revelation that reaches us. But then this is the same government that allowed the Home Secretary to keep his job when his son was found to be selling drugs. Should we be surprised?. Not at all.

The night-shift survival kit

It includes;

1) Sweets

2) Internet

3) A series of The Wire

4) Chewing gum

5) Ricky Gervais Podcasts and Audiobooks

6) Water

7) Hot milk with honey

The most vital are the Podcasts and Audiobooks. Without them the night would be very long indeed. The others are optional, with an Internet connection the next in importance. All are vital though in getting me through to 9am, and the drive home to bed.

A time to reflect

24 hours on from our game at Everton and I'm looking back and forward at the same time. I feel as if I need to take a good look at my coaching style, and see what improvements I can make. I have found this season challenging at times as I don't feel as if I have enjoyed it as much as in previous years, (I've been with them for 3 years now). In my defence I think that working night shifts hasn't helped as I've been more irritable. The boys are also a year older, there are more of them, ( now 11) and definitely more difficult to handle. That said I think I've lowered my standards a touch and I want to correct that immediately. But I still believe that coaching young footballers, and trying to keep control WHILST explaining things clearly is the most difficult thing I do in my life.

Working in a Bail Hostel, surrounded by medium to high risk offenders is, by comparison, easy. Although I must remain vigilant at all times, and keep looking for indications of a change in risk, by and large it is straightforward. Standing in the middle of up to a dozen young boys, each of them demanding attention, requires a patience and calmness that I know I lack at times. I am also aware that, at times, unnecessarily, I give myself a hard time over the standard of coaching and instruction that I provide. All of the boys seem to enjoy their involvement, and I receive no complaints form their parents. But it just hasn't felt right for a whole and I know the problem lies within me. I've recently asked my dad to start helping me out and I'm hopeful this will prove to be useful. Already I have come to realise that I will have to bite my tongue at times, (he can really get under my skin almost without trying). But it could be just the help I need to get the team back to where they belong, and for me to find that inner satisfaction that I used to enjoy.

It's Academic

Earlier on this evening the Green Machine took on Everton's under 8s academy boys at their Finch Farm complex. Played indoors on a thick carpet of astroturf, it gave the boys the opportunity to pit their footballing wits against younger, but ultimately more talented players. The age difference was a great leveller, and the teams were evenly matched up to a point. But the extra sharpness of the Everton fledglings shone through as they triumphed 6-3, displaying power and strength that was admirable. It was a good test, and a steep learning curve on how the really talented play the game. I couldn't help feel a few pangs of jealousy.

Academy standard players are a breed apart. Hungry to learn, able to absorb instructions and new skills, they are a joy to watch. They are also unlike their contemporaries in that they will pass the ball at will, foregoing the usual selfish streak seen in boys of this age. They may at times pass the ball too much, and their long-term development as skillful footballers could be compromise as a result. It is so good to watch though, especially as they were no older than 8 years of age. It was also useful in that it showed where my own players stand in terms of ability. Some struggled whilst others flourished. Philip did okay although he wasn't nearly as effective as normal due to the constant presence of tenacious players snapping around his ankles. Like me, he isn't particularly competitive but he does try. One or two of the Everton boys were so strong it made you shudder, and one midfield collision in particular made me gasp. There were a few bumps and scrapes to show off after the game but nothing too serious. The boys departed just after 8pm, exhausted and a little demoralised after the defeat. But they could all hold their heads up high after performing well.

I couldn't help feeling a little disappointed after the match, even allowing for the fact that the team had played well. As a coach it is often difficult to conduct a meaningful session, given that many of the boys prefer acting up to listening in. I yearn to achieve the levels of concentration and attentiveness that the Everton coaches' enjoy. My one hour per week contact time, (excluding matches) is dwarfed by the three hours these boys enjoy. Factor in higher concentration levels, remove the disruption, and add in wonderful surroundings, and you have plenty of time to learn. I must always try to get it right in my 60 minutes, or I run the risk of having to wait another week to amends. It is tough, but that is reality for the junior football team coach. Satisfaction and frustration are inextricably linked, and are experienced in equal measures. But I couldn't give it up, not for a minute. I will continue, waiting and striving to achieve footballing nirvana. It may be a long time coming, but it will be well worth the wait.

Kicking back

Following a most splendid weekend spent camping in Shropshire, the inevitable "down" has well and truly arrived, and all of us find ourselves slightly under the weather. One other member of our party, (a 15 year old) was sent home from school early as his teacher thought he looked exhausted. I've battled on today, and only succumbed to the inevitable about four pm when I nodded on the sofa. I may be tired however but I feel great, the legacy of time well spent. Put simply, it was the best short break I have ever been on, a wonderful three days that will live long in the memory. It was such a pity when Monday arrived and the adventure came to an end.

The campsite was basic with just a communal toilet and shower block to use. Other than that it was wide open fields, woods to explore, and nature to enjoy. Philip and Ellie had the time of their lives, playing happily with the other children in our group, and reveling in the freedom that camping brings. Ellie in particular forged a particularly strong bond with two other girls, and the tears that flowed when we were about to leave were expected. During the four days and three nights that we spent there we made many memories. The highlights include a parents versus children rugby match which was keenly contested, a talent show by the campfire which was very entertaining, and a mass football match to end festivities in which I notched the winner. It was easy on the wallet, (£34) good for the soul, (the laughter was incessant) and a roaring success. If only life was always like this.

Saying goodbye

The big match

2nd day

Camping

Camp as a row of tents

Our home for the next three nights, (excluding Daryl who has too much sense) will be our 8-berth tent, pitched in a site in Shropshire. My love of camping, and the outdoor life in general, will be fully put to the test by the early May weather, the forecast of which isn't exactly promising. It makes me think of our last camping expedition last summer....

A 5 day trip to South Wales turned sour within 90 minutes of arrival at our campsite as the weather turned extremely nasty. The sunshine which greeted our arrival was quickly replaced by heavy rain, and it literally never stopped for the remainder of our stay. At one point, Ellie and myself were huddled together in one bedroom, clinging on to the inside of the tent with dear life. Philip and Jane were doing exactly the same in the bedroom opposite, the fear of being blown away now very real. Thankfully it never happened, but it was probably the most frightening night of my life. We were all feeling dreadful the following day, the lack of sleep now taking it's toll. When our car broke down and left us spending the day waiting for the RAC, it confirmed our suspicion that the trip was cursed. For the first time ever, we couldn't wait to go home, and we left early on the final day. Typically our departure was greeted by the arrival of a mini heatwave, with glorious sunshine sweeping across much of Britain. It summed up a difficult few days, and we were glad to get home.

Despite this experience it hasn't changed our views on camping one iota. It remains the perfect way to spend a family holiday, and just watching the children enjoy themselves is reward in itself. The moment the tent is unzipped in the morning for the first time, until it is drawn closed at night, Philip and Ellie will throw themselves into the most important part of campsite life; having fun. They are very excited at the prospect, and we can just hope that the weather is kind to us. Fingers crossed.