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.