So despite a heavy night out, I still managed to get out of bed and make kick off for 10:00am. Why do I put myself through this crap just to run around in a Sunday League?? Anyway, I donned the shirt and took up my midfield role. Now usually in Sunday football, I only give a shadow of the effort I would for the more serious stuff, but for some reason, I really wanted to end this on a high note and win today. I actually gave a good input instead of my usual Jan Molby-esque style of never leaving the centre circle but always having a steady game. I got forward a few times and tested the keeper from distance - that's not bad for me. Usually I get dizzy in the final third and stick to more defensive duties. We did win - 2-1, but it should have been more. I bulleted a head home off a corner (that's another thing you see in Sunday league, no-one knows how to stop you attacking an arial ball. If it wasn't for my head, I'd probably get an average of one goal a season!), but in truth I could have had at least two or three if I was playing with a clearer head.
That was a nice way to spend a Manchester morning/early afternoon. I went home, washed up, filled the car with all my rubbish, and drove the 100 mile trip squashed in to Nottingham. Mum and Dad were not happy with me scattering a house load of stuff everywhere, but we all agreed to let it lie until the morning. That suited me fine.