World Cup Boycott 2026 version

“If you don't stick to your values when they're being tested, they're not values: they're hobbies.”
― Jon Stewart

It’s World Cup time again. It’s been on for about a week. I am looking forward to the 2030 World Cup which will be hosted in an array of countries; at this stage none of them are actively evil. And I hope against hope that FIFA is broken up and rebuilt from the rubble, between now and then.

I boycotted the 2022 World Cup, which was really hard. I struggled with it. The hardest part is friends and family that want to talk about it. I do not want to say “oh, I am better than you; I am boycotting it”. I cobble together some lame explanation but I don’t like having to do it. I caved in and watched just Australia’s games with Marcus last time.

This time there is FIFA – which gets worse by the day under Gianni Infantino; and there is Donald Trump’s USA which is a perfomatively evil place. Canada and Mexico are also hosting and I apologise to those nations for boycotting their big moment. But come on; this is the 3rd time Mexico has had it. 

The US immigration regime has relished the opportunity to abuse and discriminate against brown people, on a larger than usual scale. They turned away a FIFA-appointed Somali referee on the eve of the tournament. They knew he was Somali. They could have made their bigoted objections earlier and he could have officiated in Mexico and Canada. They wanted a highly-visible controversy, it’s how they like to operate.

Again I am permitting myself to watch Australia's games only.

But I bloody hate my boycott. I loathe myself. Why can’t I just enjoy it? Why can’t I be normal? It’s just soccer, it’s fun, it’s exciting, it’s a wonderful treat just once every four years. 

This time it is 50% bigger, so there is a ton of group games and they are being played in daylight work hours in Australian Eastern Standard Time. My team has recently been moved into the big room at work; so I am surrounded by people. And we have a TV set up with the sound up broadcasting every game. People are chatting about it, it's part of the social currency of the office.

Why can’t I just enjoy it? Why can’t I be normal? Why do I have noise cancelling headphones on most of the day? 

The reason why comes down to the Jon Stewart quote at the top. Not cheating is important to me. Not being racist is important to me. And in 2022 and 2026 I have had big opportunities to prove it to myself.

Final thoughts on the World Cup Final

I haven't watched it and maybe never will. I did watch highlights of the Argentina v Netherlands quarter final. It was a pulsating game full of incident and spite, but one thing will rankle with me forever (over and above my general Qatar ranklement). 

The world’s greatest player, Leo Messi, handballed deliberately in clear sight of the referee and did not get a yellow card.

He later did get a yellow, which if it had been his 2nd would have seen him sent off and miss next game. Argentina went on to win the game, putting them into a semi against Croatia which they won, thanks enormously to the not-suspended Messi.

On the other side of the draw, the heir to Messi's crown, Kylian Mbappe of France, helped his side beat Morocco in the other semi to set up a dream final, Argentina v France.

The evidence of my eyes, and the deeply contrived nature of this whole World Cup convinces me that referees were instructed to miss anything that might bring about suspensions to the superstars. I believe that the Qatar WC committee did what they needed to do to engineer the ideal final.

And – the final which played out has been described as the greatest final ever, maybe the greatest match ever. I have read a match report, it was certainly a ding dong battle. Played in a stadium that owes its existence to cheating and human rights abuses. 

This is probably the biggest win ever for sportswashing and a huge incentive to others with the cash to do the same. For me it's a dark day and another nail in the coffin of my love for international football and sport generally.

World Cup Boycott Exemption

I decided a few years ago I would have to boycott the 2022 football World Cup in Qatar. For all the reasons that are quite well-known. My main reason is that it was awarded fraudulently to a nation completely unsuited to hosting the event that was put out to tender. And all the other scandals, injuries and deaths that followed flow from that. 

Once awarded the summer World Cup, Qatar said "oh it will be too hot so we'll do it in winter" and FIFA said oh sure, we'll just get every league in the world to have a massive mid season break. So Qatar imported thousands of guest workers to build eight stadiums in their small country.

My boycott has been pretty hard, especially missing Australia's games - they have won two out of three (I expected one draw at best). I'm avoiding the football podcasts I would usually listen to, not reading about it; just denying FIFA my eyes and ears as much as I can.

Does this do anyone any good? It's just a line in the sand for myself really. The absence of this massive quadrennial event in my personal memory will be a reminder of what is important to me. Football has been very important since I started playing as a kid but integrity and human rights have to come before football. That's my personal standard and I do not mean to impose it on anyone else.

But – I have been imposing it on my family. Marcus is going away in March, and chances to do things together are precious. He has been watching Australia's games on his own; and now we have our biggest match since 2006 he wants to watch it with me. He went off and did some research on who is doing good work on human rights in the Middle East, and he suggested we both donate to Amnesty International, then watch the game.

So that's it, for as long as Australia continue in the World Cup I will be treating it as pay-per-view. We play Argentina on Sunday morning our time – go Socceroos!

RIP Cyrille Regis

Cyrille Regis was a stylish centre-forward for West Brom back when I was playing in the under 10s. Regis caught the eye in English soccer as one of few black players. But in this West Brom team he had the company of Brendan Batson and Laurie Cunningham. This team was beautiful to watch; I recall them usually wearing yellow and green stripes but I think that was their away strip. Which in those days (they are away in this game) you only wore if required to avoid a clash.

The black players were routinely booed just for their skin colour. It starts when Cunningham gets the ball at 2:15 but then stops dead as he sets up a lovely West Brom goal. Good on the commentator for highlighting it. Regis and Cunningham particularly copped a lot of abuse but persisted. When Regis was selected to play for England he got a bullet in the post with a message "if you set foot on our Wembley we'll shoot you in the knee". It would be great to think that's all long ago and far away but Adam Goodes would probably disagree.

There's so many highlights in this old game; an unexpected one is the goalkeeping of Gary Bailey. The save at 8:19 is as good as you'll see. Then there's the drop ball in front of goal, and the players caught offside from a keeper's long kick.  And the snow!

Thank you for your grunt of dismay

I play indoor soccer weekly, in a friendly 5-a-side kickaround at Rosny College gym. No scoreboard, no referee. The Tuesday night booking has been standing now for 15 years, administration of it is passed on occasionally from person to person. We pay $5 each per week.

I am ageing and slow and a bit fat but I do have some skill. I love playing, it takes you away from anything else that might be bothering you. And each week the session gives me a few highlights I can replay in my mind and enjoy.

One thing that is very rewarding is when you deploy some little trick, win some space by deceiving someone, and as you move away you hear their little grunt of dismay. I do score goals now and then which I enjoy replaying in my mind, but next best are those moments of sleight-of-foot.

So I say to my opponents; thank you for your grunts of dismay, they make it all worthwhile.

Versus

For years now I have heard kids use the word "versus" as though it is the present tense of the imaginary verb "to verse", meaning to oppose, to play against, to match up with, to combat.

As we set off to Saturday morning soccer I am asked "Who are we versing?" When I tell Marcus that Richmond had a big win he asks "Who did they verse?" I have probably used it myself when responding to the under-11s, just to save time and explanations to a probably unreceptive crowd.

This new word has now made its debut in the newspapers. At the least The Age Online has adopted it.

Launceston Cup triumph and a well-earned rest.

Soccer season is finally over. We went to Launceston for the weekend, to see Marcus play for the Central Region again. Having lost the Hobart Cup to the Northern representative side, we were keen to see the boys do well and maybe pinch the Launceston Cup in return.

We drove up on Saturday morning, getting there about an hour before the first game. The tournament was on at Churchill Park by the river. It had been raining for a week beforehand, and I thought the grounds would be terrible but they were surprisingly good. The grassed areas around and between the grounds were saturated though - Michael spent a lot of his time paddling.

Saturday was warm and sunny, and watching the first game I was actually very pleased when I found some shade. Central's first game of four was against Northern - and based on previous results, it was essentially a decider. Marcus played again at right-back, and he was very involved right from the start. Every attack from the home team seemed to come down his side, and he was impassable. After soaking up ten minutes of pressure Central struck on the counterattack to go one up. The boys went wild. There is a lot of showboating in the Central U/10s and the goal celebrations are way over the top.

Shortly after there was a 2nd goal, and they went to the break up 2-0. Marcus was dominating, winning a lot of high balls with his head (you don't see that much in U/10s). He was anticipating and cutting off attacks, then holding and carrying the ball up confidently and passing constructively. More goals came, and by the end Central were up about 5-0. It was a great effort all over the park.

Unfortunately Marcus didn't see out the game. Ten minutes from time he went for a 50-50 ball and limped off in pain with a damaged ankle. It was an hour until the next game, and Atef the coach was insistent he would need Marcus, but Marcus wasn't able to put any weight on his leg at all. (Various people later said they thought he was best on ground)

We consulted the St John's ambulance ladies, who gave Marcus a bag of ice and said that he really needed an x-ray. So I piggybacked him to the car and the four of us went looking for the Launceston General. Emergency was not particularly busy, but we were still there a long time. The doctor who unwrapped the bandages winced when he saw the swelling though, but Marcus was cleared of damage and released. We sped back to Churchill Park to let the team know that he was OK, but sadly would not be playing any more that weekend. In his absence they had won a spiteful game against Western Schools 4-2. The Western U/10 coach is a real problem - I believe Central and Eastern Region have put in a joint complaint about his behaviour and his instructions to his team.

After a quick catchup with the team we went across to Joe and Jill's nearby for a cuppa. Their boy William is 5 now, and he and Michael had a whale of a time on the floor doing something with action figures and Lego. Their renovation is 95% finished - they actually have some insulated rooms now, which make a difference in a Launceston winter. We then farewelled them and went off to our billet for the night, with Lindy, Ellen and Tristan in Blackstone Heights. Tristan was delighted to have boys to bounce around with, but Ellen is now in full moody teen mode, and was on Facebook with headphones on for our entire visit.

The kids and Elf read and watched footy while Lindy cooked and I grilled her about everything going on up there. We went to high school and college together and have a lot of mutual friends around, so it was very good to be able to swap news about what they are all up to.

We had decided to stay and support the team rather than making an early departure for home. The first kickoff was at 9.00 so we had to bolt breakfast and get out of there. Sunday was a darker day with all sorts of weather predicted. Joe had lent us a folding chair for Marcus, so he joined the coaching panel on the halfway line while I did my usual stalking up and down the sideline. The goals were not long in coming, and Central had another good win, fortunately with no further injuries.

The last game was played in steadily worsening weather. It was blowing a gale so umbrellas were useless. We had disposable rain capes, which did a good job of keeping most of us dry. The sleeves are very short though, and I had that horrible uncomfortable wet-sleeve feeling until we got home to Hobart. The conditions were dreadful for soccer, and the boys looked very tired, but they won the last game 2-0. Sam scored the second with a header but was too tired to and wet to even celebrate it.

We had to return the chair to Joe, which gave us an excuse to bring our bags in, and change into every dry thing we had remaining. Then we had one more commitment before we left town: visiting Elf's father's old friend Jill Green. Jill was at our wedding but I hadn't seen her since, and I don't think she had met the boys. Her house in Riverside is amazing - she grew up in it. When she was a girl the West Tamar Highway that roars past her door was a dirt road.

Once we had a cuppa with Jill we hopped back in the car, pointed it south and cruised slowly and patiently home though the rain squalls.

Marcus is recovering now very well, and in fact has to be be reminded constantly to go easy on his ankle. It's a shame he missed so much of the tournament, but if he could only play 45 minutes of it, he was certainly there for the 45 minutes that counted.

A tough day at the Showgrounds

The Central Region U/10s were knocked off their perch today. They won the last tournament in Devonport in fine style, and came into this one fairly confident. The boys won both games yesterday (against Eastern Suburbs and Devonport) fairly comfortably, but the coach Atef saw a few things he didn't like. He warned the boys they would have to change their ways today or they would lose their 3rd game to the big threat, the representative team from Launceston.

And he was right. There was not the usual teamwork - too many boys deciding to do it all themselves. There is a some immense talent in the team but a few egos to match. They had shots from miles out, or acute angles. The keeper did a good job but he wasn't often required to stop shots on target. Our keeper Ethan made a really stunning save, tipping the ball over when it was destined for the top corner. A few minutes later another shot dipped under the crossbar, caught by the wind, and he just couldn't reach it. The wind was horrendous throughout the two days (and is still howling about the eaves as I write). Down 0-1 at half time, a few boys dropped their heads and we never looked like equalising really. It finished 0-2.

The result in the 4th game against Western Schools was much better, about 7-1 in the end, but I didn't think that the lesson of game 3 was really learned. Boys were still attempting goal-of-the-year with their backs to goal rather than laying it off to a better-placed teammate.

Launceston won the Hobart Cup with 4 wins from 4 games. Our Central Region development squad went through unbeaten to win their division, which is great for those kids who have worked equally hard as Marcus's team. In two weeks the Launceston Cup will wrap up the regional series.

Marcus played very well in defence in all four games. He has really made a step forward since the Devonport Cup. He took possession, looked up and used the ball constructively - which takes more confidence than just getting to the ball first then biffing it away up field. The defence have really become a good cohesive unit, with Ethan the keeper, and I thought could all hold their heads up despite the disappointing result.

The weak link

Speaking of a conspicuous lack of sporting success - my outdoor soccer career has hit the rocks. My last couple of games have been horrid. We had a very important game last Saturday - essentially the title decider. We won 2-1, and are untouchable on top of the ladder now. There were no goals in a very tense 2nd half, most of which I watched from the bench. Our usually democratic rotation policy was shelved for the day, and it was very much a case of keeping the best 11 on the park with just occasional rests on account of age.

In my 30 minutes or so on field I first slipped in the mud and let my man get away in the penalty box - he scored. Then I was moved to midfield, ran in support as Nigel went on a surging run, received a pass from Nigel approximately 2 meters out, and failed to beat the keeper. I was nervous about hitting it first time in the mud, and tried to gently place it rather than just wellying it into the net. The keeper got a foot to it.

I have replayed it about 100 times in my mind since. At least we won the game. We have 2 games left in the season, and my first reaction after the game was to just say that’s it for me. I have felt this season like the weak link in an otherwise formidable team of blokes with a lot of first team soccer behind them. I was never a firsts player and haven’t got any better from playing six years of indoor, which encourages bad habits.

However - I would like to strive to finish the season on a good note. There is less pressure in these remaining games, and I can hopefully go out there, run about and do some good things I can use as inspiration for another season next winter. But I think then I will offer my services to the Uni 4ths, who are more my level.

Marcus plays even more soccer, in sun and rain

Marcus played in the Devonport Cup regional soccer tournament on Saturday and Sunday, with his team representing Central Region - chosen from under 10s around the city of Hobart. They had five games over the two days, and won them all, and the tournament! Sadly there was no "cup" as such but they were all given medallions and were praised by everyone for their high standard. (They scored 36 goals to seven over the 2 days).

We drove as far as Launceston on Friday evening, where we stayed with Lynn and Scott and their kids Isobel and Tom. We only catch up properly every couple of years but the kids always pick up right where they left off. They all disappeared off into the house with pillows, and then all we heard were distant shrieks. The dynamic between the children is fascinating - Isobel is in Grade 7 this year, and Lynn was interested to see if she would choose to to be a "kid" or a "adult" when it came to seating arrangements for dinner. She chose kid.

Scott is now teaching at a "Big Picture" system high school. It was interesting hearing about how all that works, since Marcus is now only 18 months away from high school. The aim is to tailor learning to the child's own interests from a much earlier age than is customary. It sounds good in theory.

In the morning we had to break up the kid's fun to get on the road, as we were needed in Devonport at ten. We had to park some distance away from the sports grounds, as the traffic was incredible. There were actually 59 teams competing in the one place! It was really quite huge. Amazingly the toilet facilities consisted of one team changeroom each for Ladies and Gents. The Gents featured a 3-person urinal, three showers and one (1) sit-down toilet. I am told the Ladies had 2 toilets but the queues were long.

It was a pretty miserable morning, and it got worse, with steady rain right through the day. My umbrella went inside-out three times, and is now a bit of a wreck. Every time Marcus took something off, Michael put it on, and in the end he was almost unrecognisable. Michael is always terrific about tagging along to Marcus's soccer things. He doesn't ever watch the game, and long ago made it clear that he would not be cheering in a pink fit. But he was keen to hear the scores and very pleased for Marcus that they did so well.

Central Supporter #1

On Saturday night we took the easy option and went 2 blocks to KFC for dinner. The boys had never been and neither of us had for years so that was it. And it was horrible. We ordered a Family Nosebag or whatever it's called, with lots of pieces of chicken, a large tub of coleslaw and a large tub of instant-spuds-n-gravy. No plates, just plastic spoons. "When you finish digging through the coleslaw with your licky germy spoon, can you pass it to me so I can do the same?" Ugh. Also had not really noticed before how 8/10 pieces of secret spices chicken have recognisable anatomy (I am fine with this) but all advertising images of pieces show something like a big golden crispy nugget. It occurred to me as we sat there grimly ploughing through it all, that when you order anything other than nuggets or burgers, the "eat-in or take-away?" question is just redundant. With no plates or decent cutlery you cannot eat-in in a civilized way - so why even suggest it?

That night we arrayed all our damp clothes about the cottage and hoped for the best. All slept better than Friday night, in proper beds.

Sunday morning was actually sunny, and everything had dried out. We went to Bella's down by the river for breakfast, which was pretty good. The soccer tournament was a big enough deal that we kept seeing other participants all over town. After breakfast we had to get to the ground for the muster for Game 3.

This is as good as my action shots get.

As this is a reliable blog of record, I shall set down all the scores for future reference.

• Central d Northern Suburbs (of Hobart) 11-0
• Central d NTJSA (Launceston) 4-2
• Central d WSSA (North West Coast) 8-0
• Central d Devonport 6-3
• Central d Eastern Region (of Hobart) 7-0

The paparazzi descend after the fifth win from five.

Marcus played very well. He started as a pure defender, then was given a license to go forward more in the later games. He would have loved to score a goal but that just wasn't his job. He made some marvellous tackles and always looked confident and calm when he had the ball. He encouraged his team-mates, and amazingly kept up his concentration through all five games, right to the end. Near the end of the final game when the coach, Atef, was calling him to come off, Marcus didn't respond until the third yell. He got the biggest laugh of the weekend when he yelled back to Atef "I thought you were just waving to me!" Atef replied "Yes Marcus, I was just missing you".

Sunday stayed sunny all day. I took Michael down to the nearby beachside playground, and he had a great time on an interesting roundabout/netting pyramid contraption, while I sat on a hill and soaked up the rays. Michael told a couple of dozen other children about centrifugal force. "Some of them didn't really take it in, Dad". Some of the looks he was getting from teenage soccer girls were priceless, yet uncategoriseable.

The champions

Looking the part

After Game 5 we had time to dash back to the cottage, give Marcus a shower and put him into a clean version of his uniform, then whizz back for the presentation of medals. It was all done very well, and we managed to be on the road home by about 4.30. There was a small team re-union at Zeps at Campbell Town (had a small garlicy tomato pizza that was delightful) but apart from that the ride home was ... uneventful.

Shrinking

I need to document this without sounding like I am bragging - I have lost weight. I am on the last hole of my belt, and am hitching up my jeans all day. I could make a new hole but I have simply too much jean now.

Yesterday at soccer I was the last one to the bag of shirts, and all that was left was unlucky no. 2, size M. (Everyone says they won't wear it because it has brought bad luck and injuries to everyone who has donned it - seems to me it is simply because we are an old and fat bunch of blokes who mostly need an XL, minimum).

It was stylishly form-fitting on me, but not uncomfortable, and I realised after the game that I hadn't given it another minute's thought. I am now an M, you guys!

The Beep Test

Marcus broke the school Beep Test record again today. If you haven't heard of it, it's a fitness test where the subjects have to run up and down a measured course (a basketball court last time I did it), and keep up with a tape recording of beeps at regular intervals. Except they aren't regular - they gradually get closer and closer together. If a person doesn't complete a lap before the beep they must drop out. After each set of beeps a voice announces what level the test is up to. A month or so ago Marcus set a new record which only stood for one day, before it was beaten again by a wiry little Grade 4 boy.

Marcus is a competitive kid, but even he is a bit bemused by the amount of competing he has to do this week. He has the inter-school cross country run tomorrow (followed by soccer practice), a chess tournament on Thursday and the Maths Olympiad on Friday. Saturday is regular soccer and Sunday is the regional rep team training. We have just heard he has been selected in the team to play over a weekend in June up in Devonport, an area where we no longer have family to flop with.

Meanwhile Michael was today sent to the principal for refusing to be Beep Tested. It would be heart-warming here to say I am so proud of both of them, one for doing his best and the other for sticking up for what he believes in. That would be premature though, as Michael will not tell us why he wouldn't run, and claims he "doesn't remember" anything the principal said to him. Chances are it was simple pig-headeness with a bit of backchat thrown in. We will make some enquiries before we sanctify him as the Gandhi of the Gymnasium.

Under 11s transcend the possible

Just a quick plug for my Under 11s - they won again yesterday, away at Lenah Valley. Isn't Lenah Valley a nice name? I always think so. Anyway, the formline for my boys now is;

• 0-12 loss
• 0-3 loss
• 1-5 loss
• 3-0 win
• 2-0 win

We were under a lot of pressure for nearly all the 2nd half after one of our kids had a brain explosion and punched an opponent. I was reffing at the time and sent him off, and we played out the game one down.

Despite this unsightly incident, I was delighted with the kids teamwork and individual skills. It was almost like seeing your dog barbecuing chops while your cat throws together a green salad."What? You can do THAT? And YOU can do THAT? And you can do it together???"

Possibly due to brain stress from pondering what to do about the punchy kid, I got the time for my own game wrong this weekend, TWICE. I was a day early yesterday then 2 hours late today. I felt like running into the forest (which was nearby) screaming, but just got back in the car, came home and mowed the lawn savagely instead. I have some real personal organisation issues.

Stereotype Man does his best

It was a very chilly morning at kids' soccer yesterday. As Marcus and 4 or 5 other boys knocked the ball around to warm up, Ali stood still scowling with his hands over his frozen ears. I had taken along a wide range of warm things, so I got out my scarf and offered to wrap it around his head. He was keen, so I wound it around over his ears and tucked it into itself, and off he went to join in the warm up.

Then I thought to myself "Great. I have effectively put a turban on the only Muslim kid. Way to go, Stereotype Man". He loved it so much he asked if he could keep it on when the game started.

I was so relaxed compared to previous weeks, because I only had 9 players, and didn't have to worry about substitutions (it's 9-a-side). Watching the clock and doing the sums to make sure everyone gets a fair go is quite stressful, and detracts from actually watching the game.

I felt even better when we scored our 2nd goal of the season about 2 minutes in, a really impressive determined effort by young Blake, who went to ground and had to get up again twice to finally get it past the keeper. Within ten minutes Ali had scored twice, and we were on course for our first win. That turned out to be the final score, but it was a really good effort from everyone for the whole game.

Later that day my Over 35s triumphed 4-0 over Barnstoneworth, and the night before my agéd indoor soccer team won a tight one 9-8. So it was a sensational soccer trifecta - something I hoped would come along some time this season.

Today (after Central Region squad training in freezing rain) Marcus attended Ali's birthday party. We gave him some Lego and a woolly beanie.

The blog is all about soccer now so get used to it...

...because nothing else is happening in my life. Except dogs.

We minded Sophie the golden retriever for a few days - while she was here our friends Steve and Meredith came over with their three hounds. It was a classic five-dog situation.

Meanwhile Marcus's Under 11s had their first game of the year, with me wielding the clipboard and doling out the oranges as coach. At this age they play 9-a-side. I have a squad of 18 players, which is ludicrous, and 16 of them actually fronted up on Saturday. We have 5 more games this term, and I will have a rotating group of 5 or 6 who will be "rested" each weekend just so I have a more manageable sized team.

The parents were very supportive and helpful, and the boys responded pretty well to what I asked them to do. I just asked them to focus on teamwork and encouragement - code for "please pass to, and refrain from abusing one another". I was relentlessly positive and that seemed to pay off - despite getting a pasting on the scoreboard, the kids didn't take it too hard. The opposition, Kingborough Lions, were very impressive.

In other round-ball news, my Friday night indoor team had a lively 9-9 draw, and my Saturday Over 35s outdoor team also drew 3-3. I played better with the oldies than I have before - I made less mistakes and helped set up a goal. There's a much bigger gulf between indoor and outdoor than I ever imagined, but I am getting my confidence on the ball back gradually, and starting to learn all over again about wind and grass and potholes and big open spaces.

Soccer and anxiety

What I didn't say in my last blog is how anxious I get about soccer sometimes. As a player that is pretty much limited to pre-match nerves, and that's only out of control when I am playing in a final.

Any time I have added responsibilities, like collecting the money, organising substitutions, or negotiating for fill-in players, my brains get scrambled. I can't add up, I put things down then can't find them, etc. Driving half the team to the game the other day, I got in the wrong lane and took us onto the expressway out of town. Sometimes while trying to get the money sorted, my hands actually shake.

I have always found that when I am actually playing my anxiety goes and I am a different person - I am decisive, outgoing, quite talkative and very positive.

After a game I am a bit like The Hulk turning back into Bruce Banner -  a regular guy inexplicably wearing shredded shorts and no shirt. The process of turning back into regular socially-awkward me is difficult and confusing, not just for me but for everyone else. Team-mates naturally assume the guy who has been yakking at them throughout the game will keep it up afterwards - when in fact my first impulse is to quietly get changed and sneak out unheeded.

My soccer training can be OK, depending on how much like a game it is. If its gamey, then game-me is quite comfortable yelling and encouraging. If it's some technical thing where there is a lot of standing around, then I am regular-me stuck with a bunch of people I know slightly. Awkward.

The scariest of all is when I am the coach. This has only happened once before, years ago when I was at a club with a lot of junior teams, and I was given match-day responsibility for the Under 13s. They played all their games about 30 mins drive out of town, and to this day when I drive down that road the tension and nerves come back to me like it was yesterday. I always worried - will the kids listen? When I am firm with the kids will the parents take my side or theirs? Will I be able to time the subs right so everyone gets a fair go, or will the maths part of my brain just refuse to function?

So far I have taken two training sessions for Marcus's team. I am trying to get myself used to the idea that in about 10 days it will be my first Saturday morning in charge of the team. This year they will play away from the school every week. Apart from the logistics of getting there and away and then getting to my own game (Elf will be still running the sausage stall back at the school) there are so many other pitfalls! I will have to referee. One of my kids may be injured - how do I look after them while keeping the rest of the balls in the air?

Fortunately I can look at it objectively, think about the worst things that could happen, and plan a few responses to minimise the amount of thinking-on-my-feet required at a time when my brain semi-useless. I guess this week I should go whistle-shopping.

Soccer, soccer, soccer

It's official now - there is too much soccer in my life. I am playing in two teams (indoor & outdoor), and for one of these I am also captain/co-ordinator/selector/cheerleader. Now I am also coaching Marcus's under 11 team. Last year's coach has moved away, and as they train on Wednesday this year (my pick-up-from-school day) I had nowhere to hide - I felt I had to volunteer, or spend every Wednesday watching on guiltily.

I took my first soccer practice last week - it went OK. An old gent named Tony oversees all the teams, and he was there to set up and generally look over my shoulder. He warned me there would be a few troublemakers, and when they made trouble I sorted them out the way I would my boys at home - just shouted at them. Seemed to work. I asked Marcus afterwards how my practice compared to what he done in previous years - he said it was exactly the same. Which was all I was aiming for. Innovation can come later.

I will handing back the indoor soccer captain's role to my predecessor as soon as I can, because there is just a limit to how much time I can justify spending thinking about soccer in one week.

Weakened

Hi. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Snork - zzzzz. OK, I'm sure I can do better than that. It's the tail end of a biggish weekend. I will rattle off the details.

Saturday morning was Little Athletics, for the last time this season, and possibly ever. They have been having a mini-championship, with ribbons for 1st, 2nd, 3rd right down to 10th in every event - which is a departure from the usual emphasis on personal bests only. As it happened we saw Marcus top the podium his massive discus throw last week, but he also did a state final qualifying time in the 1100m walk and came third in the javelin. Michael came third in the triple jump - we are actually delighted with these thirds as they both conquered an event that has been tricky for them this season. After easily winning his first javelin competition, Marcus has since had a lot of trouble getting the bloody thing to stick in the ground, which is mandatory.

I played Proper Soccer again, and I am starting to get a feel for my team. They are extremely limited, and it seems our fortunes each week are going to depend on who we can pull in to guest star for us. Our centre-forward is sixty years old. Yes. To be fair he has scored in both Summer Cup games. We have now had 1-2 and 2-4 losses. I am making some pretty naff mistakes each week but learning from them - it's been a long time since I did this stuff.

Today we had Marcus's birthday party at Zone 3 (laser tag), with 11 kids in all - Marcus and Michael, 4 from the neighbourhood, 2 cousins and three others from school. Elf made a piñata cake - with a solid (almost bombproof) shell of chocolate over it. Should have got a photo, sorry. Marcus went at it with a meat tenderising mallet, but it took a lot of punishment.

It turned into a very steamy day, and upstairs in the Zone it was fan-yourself-with-paper-plate time. The horde were called in for their first skirmish. Everyone else put jumpers and so forth in the Valuables Tub - Michael handed over Kings and Queens of England and Scotland which goes everywhere with him presently. I joined in and enjoyed it more than last time, because Michael knew what to expect and I didn't feel I had to follow him around. In fact in the run of things (you just blast away whenever you see a body) I shot him nine or ten times, then I felt bad, so I walked up and invited him to shoot me, which he did with glee.

It seemed to take forever to wind the party up - after 90 minutes we were shooed out of the party room, but we had told dropping-off parents to give it 2 hours, so then there was an extended loitering period. When we finally got home Elf and I went to sleep on couches.

Marcus received a Wii on his birthday, but on behalf of the whole family. No sooner had we drifted off to LaLaLand, than the boys next door, hopped up on sugar from the party, were in our loungeroom with their own Wii gear and the party was up and running again. Time for me to put on the radio earplugs and go and find something, anything to clean elsewhere around the house.

So - as I said, zzzzzzzz. As soon as I finish this sentence I am going to go and resume that beautiful, beautiful snooze I was having on the couch.

Busy

I am busy like a beaver, like a bee, like a beluga whale - those guys are the busiest. And I have not been getting much sleep. I have been making mistakes - mostly small ones, but I got the time wrong for indoor soccer last night and we had to forfeit. I feel pretty bad about that, with all the guys missing their game. Apart from anything else its going to cost me $48.

I am doing a large freelance design job in my spare time, which has kept me up at nights. The Founders and Survivors convict history thing we are doing at my day job is getting more intense and I was there until midnight last night working on a video promo for it. We are spending nearly as much time making slick promo packages for it as we are actually making it - but they are essential because without them no-one will cough up money for us to finish it.

Some snippets of a my "digital story" are here. As well as building the whole thing (with a progammer and another designer) I am one of the 16 or so people who has been given an original song to make a clip for. I am doing it with very laborious hand-drawn animation, at the clunk-clunk-clunk low rate of 6 frames per second. Sadly I really do not like the song I've been given, and sadder still it runs to over 5 minutes. So that's about 2000 frames, and I can't afford to be too repetitive because the song got in first with that tactic.

In any case the animation is a fun job, but I am not being paid to do it over and above salary - it's just got to happen somehow while everything else still gets done. If I want it to be any good I am going to have to put my own time into it ... and I don't know if I'm prepared to do that when I don't like the song. Sigh.

The other new thing I am doing suddenly is Proper Soccer. I am now training on Thursday night, playing indoor soccer on Friday night (stuff-ups permitting) and playing outdoors on Saturday. I had my first proper Saturday game today and felt like I did quite well. I have lost a bit of weight since I've been training and am actually catching opponents when I chase them now. I am rediscovering my love for defending - I actually love the negativity. Getting in front of your opponent and getting a head or a toe or anything to the ball to stop him getting it - I dig it. We lost 2-1 though.

So - apologies for the long gaps in blogging. Sometimes real life intervenes.

Knackered 11 d Mexican Avalanches 9

For the first time this year, a non-pictorial and non-disused-train-station blog post.

I am still on a high after our win this evening. I have never before won a game in any sport where I was so expecting to cop a hiding. Before the game I actually said to Marcus "this could get ugly". We had never played Mexican Avalanches but it seemed to be a dream team of various quick, strong and generally deadly players who had taken us to the cleaners in previous seasons. The had won 5 from 8, and we had lost 7 (in a row) and won just one, a big win last week. Handy form, but I didn't expect it to count for much.

Well, it was 7-7 at half time and we we were playing out of our skins. I felt like I would be delighted if we could stay with them and notch a narrow loss or even (gasp) a draw. I had scored one goal I was very happy with - a spiral dribble followed by a left foot toey into the corner. Ask me and I'll demonstrate anytime.

We scored on the stroke of half time. I pounded  the ball goalwards, one of the Avalanches stopped it with his tummy and fell, knocking over a teammate, and Jason collected the rebound magnificently, first-timing it into the net over the flailing keeper. This was Marcus's favourite moment - we walked off for the break, celebrating the goal with three of them sprawled on the floor.

The 2nd half was tighter, and there was no score for the first 3 minutes. Then I was a bit slack, let my man get away and he scored, 7-8. I subbed off feeling like I had just loosened our grip on it. While I was off Jason scored again - he finished with 5 for the night. 8-8.

Their flamboyant keeper (he once played against us wearing a cape) was making mistakes and keeping us in it, Bruce Grobelaar-style. I got another, they got it back, 9-9. Then one of their stronger players got the ball and held it up. I was keeping him in check and sucking in air. All the while I was thinking "I am getting my breath back, we are not getting hurt on the scoreboard, time is running out, this suits me fine". He ended up losing the ball and Paul slotted a goal. 10-9 to us.

Moments later Paul put me through down the left wing and I slashed the ball across the keeper and into the far corner, 11-9 with only 40 seconds left. I don't celebrate goals very often but I did a smallish double fist-pump for that one. There was no way they could catch us, and they didn't.

I think considering how we've been struggling, this counts as one of our very best wins.