Towards Freedom

Tonight was much better. This afternoon however, was awful. Thanks to my mammoth sleep on Friday afternoon into Friday night, I didn't feel tired at all and I could not sleep to save my life. I only got a few hours and I felt incredibly rough and jaded. My calls to fellow people to ask to cover my shift proved fruitless so I had little choice but to make the 5-minute voyage, listening to Radio 1's terrible Saturday night music, to what I call, "hell", with this thought in my mind:

"If I have another night like yesterday's, this is my last ever shift"

God obviously heard my words because he made it much easier for me, (I've suddenly gone all religious?), even if there was a lot of work to do and a lot of strange situations, it was much better and I went home, after finishing the papers off in quick time, leaving The Wall at the tills because the morning staff hadn't turned up... Again...

These days though, if I have a good night at work, the football later in the morning turns out to be a shambles. Crap night at work equals good morning's football. It's how it works.

This morning was all over the shop. No one wanted to be there, and we were practically bullied off the park by the most aggressive .... no.... 2nd, most aggressive team I've ever come up against. (Remember Harpur Sunday?)

Their striker was the most annoying per.... no... again.... He isn't the most annoying person I've come across, (don't get me started!), but he was certainly extremely childish for a man of mid-30s, complaining that he was getting elbowed and then 2 minutes later elbowing me in the ribs, which went un-noticed by the referee. He was ALWAYS complaining and was always in my ear, almost like a slip fielder to a batsman in cricket, just a little more... physical. I wasn't enjoying it, and clearly neither was the rest of the team.

The first half, we were being physically assaulted by a team who tried their damnest to knock us out of the match. Too many of them thought they were David Haye and they were very good at doing it out of the attention of the referee. We weren't allowed to play our usual game, and because of this, we were out of sorts and went into the interval 2-0 down. 2 good finishes from 2 poor pieces of defending.

The 2nd half was a bit better until our centre-mid had a moment of madness. The same striker who had spent all of the first half annoying me, had moved targets, and although the temptation for me to headbutt him was great, I never get too worked up to actually do it... A straight red, deservedly so, and we were in trouble. Down to 10 men on the hour mark, but we fought bravely before conceding a 3rd. I wasn't happy with that, my positioning from the cross was poor and I maybe should have done a lot better after making a couple of very good saves to keep us at 2-0. We got a late consolation, but it was all in vain, going down 3-1.

It's days like this I just dislike football. I don't want to turn up if people aren't going to put the effort in, especially when they've had the opportunity to get ready for it, and I have to work. They have the opportunity to have a decent night's rest to be 100% for the game, but choose instead to go out on the town and complain when no one can be bothered on a Sunday morning. It's ALWAYS the same, but it is the true curse of Sunday league football.

I'm glad I'm not playing next week, I couldn't care less if we win, draw or lose, as usual, but I am just looking forward to having a very expensive party. I have money, and a lot of it, and I intend to go absolutely mental. I'm not fussed what the financial reprocussions are either. I'm going up to Manchester to have a good time, and I really do deserve it after events of late.

Just one more night to endure, hopefully an easy, if long, Sunday night, and then I can scream aloud the word, "FREEDOM!". It won't be straight forward though will it...

It never is...

Ciao x