The Join Meet in Nottingham was great fun – the usual spreading of chocolately kindness around the so-called “city of Legends”, plus meeting many old friends and new.
One of the highlights was the annual and ridiculously over-hyped North v South football match. Sadly the North lost 3-2, but given that we were 3-0 down at half-time due to some very basic errors, I am sure that paints you a picture of a spirited second-half fight-back.
I got many plaudits for my annual engagement with that thing known as exercise, mostly consisting of penetrating runs and deft movements of the ball down the left flank – despite not being left-footed.
But in my modesty I must point out that such flashes of brilliance were too frequently punctuated by lengthy periods of panting heavily on my hands and knees, and sadly underlined by some truly porous defensive work. I also let myself and the glorious North down with a lot of my final touches. And actually some of my first touches were a bit lacking too. As were most of the touches in the middle, come to mention it. But apart from that, I was on fire.
Many South players magnanimously declared football itself to be the true winner on the day. But if you’d witnessed the spectacle of 22 players who were variously unfit, terrible footballers, atrociously hungover, or just playing in jeans while clutching cans of cider, you’d have agreed with other observers that football was actually one of the heaviest casualties.
The series stands at 2-1 to the South. Roll on the revenge that is next year.
