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Brilliant idea, this, although I wonder if it's better off being a board for sporting nostalgia in general? Obviously that can encompass a thread or threads on our own experiences playing and supporting, but also just reminiscing about bygone sporting events and culture...

My own story about being a player? I was shite. Not enough pace to be a winger (despite the old man being a medal-winning distance runner), not enough eye for goal to be up front, not especially capable of beating a man unless luck was on my side, which ruled out central midfield; my "gifts" were half-decent reaction times which often saw me in goal, and being naturally left-footed, which made me a prime candidate for the standard just-stick-someone-there-and-hope-for-the-best position of left back. There, I was allowed to roam free in my very own realm, unshackled from the responsibilities of being any good, and required just to stick the boot in on anyone who strayed into my territory (and as far as I was concerned, that included my teammates).

The Glorious Day was a school match which was a stalemate at 1-1 with minutes to go. I got the ball off our keeper, who'd stopped booting them long - in a scandalous betrayal of the time-honoured English schoolboy tactics book - because our short-arse striker was losing every single aerial battle. So suddenly, I was required to play out from the back; to that end, I knocked a short ball to our central midfielder, and to my surprise, under pressure, he made it a one-two which beat their right winger and gave me a wide open flank to run at.

Oh yes. I'm going on an adventure.

I looked for our left winger to pass to, and he made a run towards the byeline, but their right back tracked him well so I carried on into the space the right back had left open. And then I was on the edge of the penalty area, still looking to pass but with no one open, so kept on motoring for goal, getting ready to place what would probably have been a wasteful shot, until their right centre-back came across and just hacked me down with a last-ditch challenge. A more blatant penalty you've never seen.

Did I want to take it? Did I f**k. But my teammates were going on the age-old lads' principle of "you won it, you take it", so I had to step up. My mate James told me to aim right and put my laces through it, so I did just that. Walloped it. Had enough time as my boot made contact to think that I'd spooned it and it was going a mile over the bar.

Nope. Top right-hand corner. Keeper nowhere near it. It was the winner.

It wasn't too long after that I announced my triumphant retirement from the world of sport to pursue far more healthy interests such as beer and pork pies, but The Glorious Day will always be there, and I suspect it'll never be bettered.
(04-09-2014, 17:34)Ska Wrote: [ -> ]Brilliant idea, this, although I wonder if it's better off being a board for sporting nostalgia in general?  Obviously that can encompass a thread or threads on our own experiences playing and supporting, but also just reminiscing about bygone sporting events and culture...

My own story about being a player?  I was shite.  Not enough pace to be a winger (despite the old man being a medal-winning distance runner), not enough eye for goal to be up front, not especially capable of beating a man unless luck was on my side, which ruled out central midfield; my "gifts" were half-decent reaction times which often saw me in goal, and being naturally left-footed, which made me a prime candidate for the standard just-stick-someone-there-and-hope-for-the-best position of left back.  There, I was allowed to roam free in my very own realm, unshackled from the responsibilities of being any good, and required just to stick the boot in on anyone who strayed into my territory (and as far as I was concerned, that included my teammates).

The Glorious Day was a school match which was a stalemate at 1-1 with minutes to go.  I got the ball off our keeper, who'd stopped booting them long - in a scandalous betrayal of the time-honoured English schoolboy tactics book - because our short-arse striker was losing every single aerial battle.  So suddenly, I was required to play out from the back; to that end, I knocked a short ball to our central midfielder, and to my surprise, under pressure, he made it a one-two which beat their right winger and gave me a wide open flank to run at.

Oh yes.  I'm going on an adventure.

I looked for our left winger to pass to, and he made a run towards the byeline, but their right back tracked him well so I carried on into the space the right back had left open.  And then I was on the edge of the penalty area, still looking to pass but with no one open, so kept on motoring for goal, getting ready to place what would probably have been a wasteful shot, until their right centre-back came across and just hacked me down with a last-ditch challenge.  A more blatant penalty you've never seen.

Did I want to take it?  Did I f**k.  But my teammates were going on the age-old lads' principle of "you won it, you take it", so I had to step up.  My mate James told me to aim right and put my laces through it, so I did just that.  Walloped it.  Had enough time as my boot made contact to think that I'd spooned it and it was going a mile over the bar.

Nope.  Top right-hand corner.  Keeper nowhere near it.  It was the winner.

It wasn't too long after that I announced my triumphant retirement from the world of sport to pursue far more healthy interests such as beer and pork pies, but The Glorious Day will always be there, and I suspect it'll never be bettered.
Quite right. I never meant to limit it to football, it just happened. I have a few stories to tell but given how well you have launched it, I will have to go away and draft them and craft them a little better Confused
We used to play on the road with either jumpers for goalposts or across it using the gateposts. The boys were bossy but my best mate was a tomboy and used to beat them up. My mum used to be the harridan that came out to shout at everybody when the ball hit her windows. Happy days.
(04-09-2014, 21:11)Amelia Chaffinch Wrote: [ -> ]We used to play on the road with either jumpers for goalposts or across it using the gateposts. The boys were bossy but my best mate was a tomboy and used to beat them up. My mum used to be the harridan that came out to shout at everybody when the ball hit her windows. Happy days.
I did the same. Played in the road. But the 'big' house in our street had a large grass verge in front of its walls and so our goal was the wall, jumpers in place for posts and our softy of a keeper could dive as much as he wanted on grass while we played on the Tarmac and took shots at him.

One Sunday lunch one of us hit a low shot at goal and clipped the grass verge and the ball sailed up and over the wall. Followed by the sound of breaking glass. We scarpered. Pointless really but we did. When we timidly returned (8-10 age range) we found one of my friends father calming the family as the ball crashed through the dining room window and onto their Sunday dinner table with all of the family attending.

Ooooops.
When I was at College and if we had a free period then we would get a football and go down to the local Rec and have a kick about. The Rec was pretty big but open to the roads and there was no fencing or railings around it. We played 4 vs 4 and used the goalposts which were there.

The opposing team had just scored so I decided to get the ball and go on a solo run from my own half, I got past every player and when I was 1 on 1 with the keeper I smashed the ball low and hard into the right hand corner and it kept rolling and rolling and rolled into the road and stopped a bus and held the rest of the traffic up in the middle of the road.

When I was at school I scored a hat trick in a P.E lesson.

I played 1 game for the school team and I missed an absolute sitter which I will never forget. We had a corner on the right hand side and I was stood at the back near the far post and the sun was shining in my eyes and the ball was whipped in came to me and I tried to volley it but instead sliced it and went shocklingly wide.
This isn't a triumph, but I remember playing a game with the three kids who were temporarily living with their gran down the road. It started raining, but it wasn't much so we carried on, even though they knew they were supposed to go in. Anyway about ten minutes after the rain had stopped their gran came out and shouted them in because of the rain.
"But it's not raining!" they protested.
Gran's immortal reply was, "If I say it's raining, it's raining!"
They trooped bedraggled back down the garden and in. I can see them now. They've spent my whole life walking down that garden.
I've spent the best time of my career in goal.

As a young 'un, I saved a penalty with one of those brown lace-ups in goal.

As an adult, I moved outfield in six-a-side, and one time got so far past half way that I had a shot (I was always pretty decent at taking set pieces)...from about 25 yards out or so. It pinged in off the crossbar, but as my team-mates came to congratulate me, I went utterly ballistic at them for letting me take the ball past halfway.
My 1st RUGBY (union) training session. Practice line out. Jumps higher than everyone ...... punch ball forwards pick it up and run the length of pitch planting it between the goalposts. This game is easy......... What the hell is a FORWARD pass?? Totally confused DD Huh Huh
(09-09-2014, 01:59)Dingle-Dingle Wrote: [ -> ]My 1st RUGBY (union) training session. Practice line out. Jumps higher than everyone ...... punch ball forwards pick it up and run the length of pitch planting it between the goalposts. This game is easy......... What the hell is a FORWARD pass?? Totally confused DD  Huh  Huh

A forward pass is when you've got the ball and your teammate runs alongside you but in front of you and you pass it to him thats a forward pass.
(09-09-2014, 16:45)spireitematt Wrote: [ -> ]
(09-09-2014, 01:59)Dingle-Dingle Wrote: [ -> ]My 1st RUGBY (union) training session. Practice line out. Jumps higher than everyone ...... punch ball forwards pick it up and run the length of pitch planting it between the goalposts. This game is easy......... What the hell is a FORWARD pass?? Totally confused DD  Huh  Huh

A forward pass is when you've got the ball and your teammate runs alongside you but in front of you and you pass it to him thats a forward pass.

I know that now after it was explained to me that the ball travels backwards. DD Thumb up Thumb up