Played football yesterday. It was mostly the same old crap, different day. Near the end, possibly my last kick of the game. I was down the right wing, chopped back inside and eyed up a curled shot to the far corner. A defender was coming out to me, and another coming back, closing the space. I decided I could get the shot off. As I hit it both their arms and legs were out, about five years from me, forming a shield shaped aperture about a ball and a half width wide, by two high. Drove it through the gap, with a touch of curl, hitting the base of the far post on the first bounce, and straight in. Unstoppable. It was a peak Robbie Fowler class finish.
Like with all addictions, I choose to remember that to bring me back to the game, rather than the crap that preceded it.
