Vomiting for Victory

If you find bits of a stomach on Bedford High Street or just outside Kempston Rovers FC, then I'd appreciate it if you returned them.. They are the remnants of the before and after of a sensational football match. Part of me now wishes we had lost, given the pain and anguish I have been through the last couple of days, however, we won. 2-1. Delerium ensued.

It all started at around 6.30pm on Friday. I was deathly nervous. So much so I was slightly sick by the gate as we walked in.. No one knew or found out though which was thankful, and it turned out that was the start of the theme for the next couple of days, not that I knew at that point. Yes, I was that nervous, and all the pre-match hubble and ritual did nothing to settle them. I decided to feast on banana and lucozade to settle the nerves and get the energy running through me a bit more. 7:45 came. Kick-off. The nerves had worked differently to the semi-final, where they had gone by the time kick-off came. This time, in the final, I was nervous for pretty much the whole match. Nervous of making a mistake. Nervous for losing it for the team. The first half was fairly uneventful. We hit a post and had a couple of good shots saved by their keeper. Nothing really happened until around the 40th minute. The ball was hoofed long up field and I came out to get it. The ball was close to the edge of the area and as I went to grab it, it bounced sideways and took it outside the penalty area. I had handballed it, and yes, I did get booked and yes, they scored from the resulting free-kick, but it wasn't a mistake by any means. Maybe a slight misjudgement, but it was definitely the pitches fault. We went in at half-time 1-0 down. Still in the game.

A relatively short half-time team talk followed from the gaffer and the new right hand man, and we were out again. We dominated the 2nd half more than the 1st as our opponents legs got more tired. 70 minutes had gone. We were still fighting away. I had hardly touched the ball since the start of the half, and our left back went rampaging into their penalty area and was "brought down" by their centre back. My first thoughts were, "surely that's a dive", but no, the ref blew. Penalty. I couldn't watch. My back faced towards the action, I heard a huge shout. Equaliser. Jack had managed to keep his cool and from that point onwards, there was only going to be one winner. Thormo pounced in the 86th minute to stroke home the winner and we won 2-1. I was not the hero this time but I didn't care. We had some silverware. And the champagne and beer started flowing.

This was the point things started going downhill. After we got changed, we went and had a few celebratory pints in the clubhouse before moving on to town to celebrate some more. My Dad even contemplated coming before being given a rapturous drumming from Mother Mitten for even thinking about it. He passed, but I didn't. I don't remember a lot about the night. I apparently sent a few strange texts and had way too much in such a short space of time. Before I knew it, I had staggered out on to the street, collapsed, was sick everywhere, then helped home by 2 Irish lads who helped me out. That's what I thought, but apparently, one of them had tried to nick my wallet but rescinded when my Dad turned up. Talk about taking advantage! I felt awful. Almost bordering on the "Hot n Spice" incident.. I won't talk anymore about that because it makes me feel ill just thinking about it.

So I was home, still vomiting, yet thinking the night was worth it to pay the consequences. I'll be fine in the morning, ready in time for the cricket friendly. I got a few hours sleep, woke up at 11, was sick once more and went on my way to cricket. It was a beautiful day and I was convinced I would be able to play a full part. However, before the match, I was sick again, aswell as 6 overs in and then I thought... This is much worse than I thought. I went home. I had drank much more than I thought I had, and I went straight to bed, shaking and sweating as if it was 40 degrees outside. After a few more hours sleep, I was still shaking and sweating. My parents considered hospital again, but I perked up enough to rescind them from taking that route. It was at that point, that my old childhood villain, made a long-awaited return..

Dioralyte. For those of you who haven't a clue what it is, it's basically flavoured liquid salt. Mother brought a mug of it upstairs and the smell hit me instantly. No way... things have not resorted to this mug of pure evilness. Dioralyte is designed to replace lost salts and fluids in your body, but is also designed, I'm sure, to taste so bad that you have no choice but to vomit it all out again.. You see, when I was younger, I was ill every other week. Infection after infection, sick bug after sick bug, I spent probably 30% of a school year, at home, in bed, shaking, with a mug of this Dioralyte by my bedside. Like the Daleks to the Doctor and Tottenham to Arsenal, the Mug of Dioralyte is my worst enemy. I didn't have a choice. I had to have it. Either that or hospital. Apparently it was blackcurrant flavoured, but that's just insane. I had a sip and all the memories of a sick childhood came flooding back, then flooded out into the bucket that had become a fabric of my bedroom the last couple of days. "Have more" said Mum. A cup final victory isn't worth this. No way. I had more and before I knew it, was sick again.

People have asked for details, so here I am, giving them!

I have grown steadily better, however, that was my 2nd worst encounter with alcohol I've ever had, (behind the dreaded "Hot n Spice" incident.. On the plus side, I'm no longer banned from there!), and it has put me off for a fair while. Probably the next time I touch the stuff will be for my 19th birthday in the middle of May, and even then it will be gingerly. Why do I put myself through it..? All because of a win in the football... Football kills. There's a lesson for you kids.

So my tumtum took a battering, aswell as my head and my whole body in fact, meaning I missed a cricket match, 2 days at work, (including tonight) and another football match this morning! We won 4-0, so I wasn't missed and my Dad claimed the clean sheet. It's turned out to be a good season overall. Another promotion and a cup win. I've decided I'm staying now. I'm going to referee on Saturday afternoons and play Sunday mornings. I love the game too much to not play now. But that's it for another football season. Cricket takes over now and MY first game of the season comes this Saturday. Provided I don't get ruined the night before... Like that's gonna happen!

Laters x