Yesterday my 11-a-side team played in the Bath & District Sunday football league. The mighty Acorn F.C. battled to a 4-0 win to stand firmly at third in the table - second if it were not for our inferior goal difference. Considering I'd been out celebrating with old friends the night before I thought I had a reasonable game, for the sixty-odd minutes I was on the pitch. In the first half I was a constant thorn in the opposition's right-back's backside (must have been all the Red Bull still in my system keeping me going) won a penalty (not converted!) and later got an assist. In the second half I think the dehydration really caught up with me and my muscles seized up: cramp - a footballer's old nemesis. I had to hobble off the pitch but with my head held high, I'd done my bit and we came away with the three points.
But I'm nervous about meeting my team mates for the next match. Why?
The pitch-side camera operator, the defensive midfielder, the kit-man... What do they all have in common? They are unrecognised, unappreciated and unfortunate heroes within the world of football.
It's not fair, really. There's little to no glory doing any of these tasks in comparison to other members of the sport. The only time they get mentioned is when they make a mistake. If they do their job correctly, nobody notices. It's only when the defensive midfielder's passes go astray or he isn't tight enough to his man that fans say he should be dropped when in reality, the other 95% of the time the player is busting a gut running the midfield. Just because he isn't getting goals and assists every week and not making last ditch tackles or saving penalties, he's never the hero.
By some freak chance the camera operator cannot keep up with the action or the signal fails, viewers turn off in disgust and often frustration. The infamous incident is of course Everton v Liverpool in the fourth round replay tie in the 2009 FA Cup, when ITV cut to an advert break two minutes before schedule, missing crucial match play in extra time. Everton rather conveniently scored a goal during that advert break - the only goal of the game! But how many times does this actually happen?
It's not fair, really. There's little to no glory doing any of these tasks in comparison to other members of the sport. The only time they get mentioned is when they make a mistake. If they do their job correctly, nobody notices. It's only when the defensive midfielder's passes go astray or he isn't tight enough to his man that fans say he should be dropped when in reality, the other 95% of the time the player is busting a gut running the midfield. Just because he isn't getting goals and assists every week and not making last ditch tackles or saving penalties, he's never the hero.
By some freak chance the camera operator cannot keep up with the action or the signal fails, viewers turn off in disgust and often frustration. The infamous incident is of course Everton v Liverpool in the fourth round replay tie in the 2009 FA Cup, when ITV cut to an advert break two minutes before schedule, missing crucial match play in extra time. Everton rather conveniently scored a goal during that advert break - the only goal of the game! But how many times does this actually happen?
It's my turn to clean the kits this week.
They are absolutely filthy. Now, we're a physical team. Most of the lads love a sliding tackle, I certainly do - I nearly got booked for challenging the goalkeeper - but the key word in there is sliding. On mud. In a green and white kit. Why couldn't we just have a chocolate brown coloured top and shorts? Suddenly choosing the stripes of Celtic's home strip is looking like a bad idea.
It's Monday night as I write this and since yesterday afternoon, I've washed the socks once, and the shirts and shorts four times and there are still some stubborn stains on there. I'm using the classic tablets that dissolve - two in the drawer and one extra in the drum itself and it's slowly working, but surely this can't be how semi-professional teams do it? What if they've got three matches in one week? After all, clubs like my local team, Bath City, who ply their trade in the Conference, can't have the luxury of churning out hundreds of duplicate kits when they need to like Manchester United or Liverpool. It isn't exactly cheap.
The other problem one has is drying the irksome things. I've got fourteen outfield shirts and shorts and twenty eight long socks to hang, and it's February. The weather isn't great outside to air dry them, and I don't like the idea of leaving an entire team's football kit in my back garden for the day as I poodle off to work. I have my own personal wash load to do as well don't forget, so for now the lounge, hallway and landing have a number of clothing hung on any peg or corner possible. I can't exactly invite friends over for a wine and cheese evening.
The great thing is, I know who the main culprits are with the muddiest of the shirts as I can remember the squad numbers (luckily my top is almost clean after 3 washes!) but the shorts are anyone's guess. I'm definitely going to have to wash them again tomorrow. If that doesn't work, I'm going to resort to hand washing them with a huge wooden spoon like Mrs. Bucket out of the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory film.
Have I learnt my lesson? I can't change my own game, sliding tackles are too satisfying. But for starters, if I ever pick a kit for a future club, it will probably be black. I'd cheekily try and offer to clean the kit during the horrible winter months when the ground is hard, therefore not as muddy and there will have been less sliding because of this. And lastly? Be a goalkeeper. Most purchased amateur football kits don't come included with a goalie's kit, so you'll provide and wash your own!
I now have the utmost respect to kit managers, especially to those amongst the lower divisions of semi-professional football. I'm stressing about it and my team isn't playing until the 20th March. That's three weeks between matches. Some teams have less than three days.
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