Sloppy touches. Heavy breathing. Slow movements. That was me in the first five minutes of our semi-final match played earlier this Saturday morning. No vision, no skills. It was hard out there. After fifteen minutes I took off my gloves, and a minute later the top I wore underneath my no.10 shirt was taken off too. I did not deserve to wear that number today. A disgrace to Rooney and Messi who wear that number with ease of composure, skill and infinite talent.
I spent 8 weeks without playing any football and today, I witness the fruit of such absence. I was poor, ill disciplined and ultimately I think caused our team to loose the game. I was to blame for the first goal. A poor touch from me allowed the opposition player to take the ball, cross it in and score. But there were some applause that came my way in the second half because I scored our only goal. Some called it sheer brilliance, a quintessential finish, but I say it was luck. The opposing defender unluckily lost the ball and by grace, yes only by grace, I was at the right place at the right time to steal the ball and then by even more grace, score.
It was 1-1. Then we gave away a penalty. I think along that run of play I must have given the ball away, or wasn't where I should have been, and thus due to my inefficiency somewhere along the way, they scored. But there is nothing now that can be done. We lost and that is that. No amount of thinking or wishing, or praying is going to change that. So as in everything past, one has to just accept it and move on. I've already moved on. I'm not sad nor am I happy that we lost. But I do have things in perspective, namely that loosing a game of football is way down the list on what makes my day happy or sad. Ultimately I am satisfied in Christ, and next week if I am available to play, I shall put on a better performance. London here I come.