I need Viagra....

..In the footballing sense. I'd consider anything which would improve my performance as it was lacking yesterday. 24 hours on and I am stiff, (no pun intended) and sore. Above all else, I am disappointed that my talents are on the wane and I am less relevant than ever on a football pitch. There are some beneifts to being the oldest player on the pitch, and an old head, (my god, is that me?) often brings calm and intelligence, as well as plenty of experience. But too often the pace of the game, and its younger combatants, catches you out. Take yesterday for example.

  The alternative for a 38 year old is Vets football where all of the players are aged 35 or over. But I have always held a great dislike for the concept of 'over the hill' football. There are some things that should be left behind in your youth and competitive football is one. Keep fit, play five a side, train hard, I am in complete agreement with that. But don't try and kid yourself than you can still cut it, because you can't. And I can't. Not any more. So I reckon the time has come to hang the boots up, and concentrate on coaching and managing. OR, bite the bullet and join a Vets team. I think I know the answer already, and it is a pity as I have just spent £50 on a new pair of boots. I think I should now concentrate on developing tomorrows footballers, and forget about yesterdays. 

Saturday is football day

Todays post is my match report from my under 9s  teams game this morning. In the afternoon I made my long awaited comeback for the mens team, and led them to a 5-2 defeat. I did score, via a deflection, but I wasn't great. At 38 I think I may be just past my best, and my right knee is screaming at the moment. I can still play, but it takes me around 20 seconds to get back to my feet when I go to ground. And I have to wear the XL shorts otherwise the stick would be relentless.

Log onto www.marshallsfc.me.uk and select Fixtures and Results (incl match reports) to access todays report. 

What should I do next Al?

Alun Parry was a mate of mine throughout Junior school, and at one time we were as  thick as thieves. I think he joined our school in year 2 of 4 although I can't remember why. By year 3 we were best mates as we shared many interests which included football, drama and fountain pens. Alun was the goalkeeper of the school team and he wore the stunning yellow England jersey that Ray Clemence made famous. He was a good keeper by all accounts and I can distinctly remember one christmas when he came to my house and we went over to Greenbank Park to play football for  couple of hours. He wasn't bad when he played outfield either and one day he scored a header in a playground match, an occurence as rare as hens teeth. I can picture him peeling away in delight as I, the best player and captain of the school team, stood there in stunned silence. As we walked back to class at the end of break I  attempted to undermine his achievement by informing him that he could have controlled it on his chest and slotted it in. I was gutted.

We both shared a love of the drama group that Mr.Prettlove had introduced when he had joined the school. We had  shared top-billing in previous productions although his Frank Spencer impression had stolen the show in one show. I remember laughing along with the rest of the audience,  although my laughter was definitely through gritted teeth. And so came the day when Mr.Prettlove invited the drama regulars to his classroom and announced that we would be starting rehersals shortly for a production of Joseph and his colourful coat. "I haven't quite decided who will play who" he said, "but I have selected my Joseph." The anticipation and tension was unbearable for those few moments when I waited for him to say I had got the lead role. "Alun Parry will play Joseph" he said. Like a dagger through my heart his words travelled. I was gutted. Again. I was given a part with  addiditional lines as compensation for missing out. But it was scant consolation. 

Later on that year and a new Head Boy was to be selected. I was slightly taken aback when I was picked for the top job although I said yes immediately. 2 months into my tenure however and cracks had started to appear. I was relieved of my office with the blue badge passed on to Ian Simpson. He was also unable to make a success of it and the badge found its way onto Alun's school jumper. He was the perfect choice and remained Head Boy until we left for senior school.

We went to different  schools and our paths weren't to cross for many years. The only time I saw him was on News At Ten where he was talking about Socialism. It was a fleeting glimpse and that was it until around 2000 when I spotted him on FriendsReunited. One email led to another and we met up a couple of times for a few drinks. I think he was working in IT during this time although I can't be certain. The emails soon dried up and we went our seperate ways.

The last few years of my life have seen massive changes made on both a personal and professional level. An important part of my life now is my involvement with Marshalls FC as we strive to push the club towards the non-league football scene. At the current rate of progress it will probably take at least 10 years, maybe more to realise this dream as there is much growth and development to be achieved. In 2008 I read in the local newspapers that a new team was being formed which would provide local football fans with an alternative to Liverpool FC and the huge expense incurred following a Premiership club. A whirlwind few weeks culminated in AFC Liverpool entering the Vodkat League, on the lower rungs of the non-league ladder. The founder? The driving force? The visionary?. Alun Parry. This time I wasn't gutted, but filled with admiration, with just  a hint of envy.

As a frustrated Writer/Journalist I had taken the decision last year to start a Blog in January 2009 which would hopefully discipline me sufficiently to write something each day. Whilst doing my research I stumbled upon www.parrysongs.co.uk, which is Alun's own website.As well as finding that he already wrote a Blog,  I discovered what he had been doing for the past years and it made fascinating reading. As well as forming AFC Liverpool he is a well-known performer on the local music scene, has credits for BBC Radio 4, is a published writer, has set up the Working Class Music festival as well as Acoustic Slice. When I was concluding my Xmas shopping in December I went to HMV to buy a couple of cd's. As my eyes glanced across the many names on offer, one name jumped out at me. I couldn't believe it. A musician as well. Incredible.

In the past week I decided to start posting on Twitter having heard so much about it. There is a section where you can look people up,and only one name sprung to mind. I typed it in and hey presto, there he was. Beaten me to it again.

I'm pleased to say that I have since had an email from Alun,  and we will keep in touch. And this entry has allowed me to think back to the late 70's and  early 80's when we shared a classroom, a football pitch,  and much, much more. And I can't wait to see what he will beat me to next!. 

 

Shattered

As the title says...

New horizons

In the past 48 hours I have discovered both The Wire, and Twitter. Both are superb, and very me. Much fun to be had. In the case of The Wire I am only 8 episodes in and already hooked. As for Twitter I have been twittering since yesterday. And I am about to have another twitter before bed. And I may even have a little twitter in bed. 

Super Visor

I can safely say , without fear of contradiction,  that I never put down Bail Hostel Supervisor  on my list of prospective jobs when I was  young. To be fair the list was never extensive but at no point did I ever yearn to spend my time in such an environment, and I appear to have found myself in this position almost by default. Mostly it is easy, with few really challenging or dangerous incidents as most of the residents in the hostel are post-release, and not looking to upset the apple-cart. One cannot become complacent but in three 3 years of employment I am yet to feel any more threatened or vulnerable in the hostel than I would be in any city centre bar or night club. Yet the scene that greeted me on saturday night was enough to make my heart sink faster than a stricken ship.

Starting your sequence of night-shifts is stressful enough as they really make you question where your life is heading. So when I turned up for duty at 9pm the site of many unfamiliar faces gathered by the reception area made me feel very uneasy. When it was relayed to me by the staff that a nearby hostel had been plunged into darkness due to an electricity cut, and that I would be joined on my shift by 12 additional bodies, as well as 2 staff unknown to me, I was gutted. When I went out to speak to these Probation refugees, I was horrified. For gathered in front of me were some of the most unpleasant and unsavoury people I had ever had the misfortune of setting eyes upon. The crimes they had committed would fill the centre pages of any Sunday newspaper. At least 2 were known to me from a previous residency at the hostel, and 1 was a regular in the News of the World. I had 12 long hours to go, and these men would be my companions.  Once again, I remembered every mistake I had ever made, and every time I hadn't listened. If I had known what was coming to me I swear I would have tried harder.

The shift was just about bearable due to the other 2 staff who joined me on this shift from hell. The new arrivals, after some posturing and complaining, (some of it justified)   eventually settled down and went to sleep, lying on inflatable beds wherever they could find room. The smell was unbearable, the snoring obnoxious, and the inconvenience considerable. But the clock continued to tick and I was able to leave the hostel at 9am on sunday, heading back home for some much-needed rest. The clear-up operation continued in my absence and when I returned on sunday evening they had all gone, and thankfully, they haven't returned. Things got back to normal quite quickly and I was almost able to enjoy my second shift. 

There are many times in hostel life when a shift can be filled playing pool, visiting a museum, or simply watching the football on tv. During these times one can almost feel embarassed to be getting paid as it is far removed from the way the majority earn their wages. But make no mistake, I earned every penny on Saturday night. 

  

Today is the first day...

...of my 21 week Liverpool triathlon programme. The pictures above serve to illustrate my current physical condition, and my appearance 6 months ago. Having placed them side by side there doesn't appear to be much difference although the scales tell me it is 11lbs. The picture below is the current snap, (how sad would I have been to have staged the one on top?) and I think I benefit from the late afternoon sunshine which  was pouring into my back room. Only a full length shot would truly illustrate my point although I'm sure I would be invited to leave the internet for life if I did. But today I am just under a stone heavier than in June 2008 when the trophy-holding photo was taken. My plan is to now lose just 1lb per week until race day. That would mean a weight loss of 21lbs, and would leave me, stood by the River Mersey in a wetsuit, weighing 12 stone, 5lbs. I can picture it now; a 6-pack, 32" inch waist, just the one chin, wolf-whistles.......perfect.