Note to self: must. stay. positive.
After a Skype call with my parents last week they informed me that my blog had taken a rather unsavoury turn towards misery. “Cheer up” was the main message they were trying to get across to me. It’s not to say that I was in any way upset or depressed, it just so happened that my posts seemed to come out that way!
Almost everything that has occurred since I last blogged seems to have been in some way related to football. After a positive experience last time at Toni & Guy’s hairdressers I decided that regardless of the price I’d be going back there. Too many times in my life I’ve been a victim of a terrible haircut and have spent weeks ruing my advancing forehead (or receding hairline). It may have cost me an eye watering 45€ but the girl cutting my hair was lovely, mildly attractive and gave me a great chance to practice some more German. Oh and I was also pleased with the results! Now, over his time he has had some terrible haircuts (also due to losing his hair I must add) but to come out of the hairdressers looking like ex Liverpool and Chelsea legend Raul Meireles is not necessarily a bad thing.
Earlier in the year you may recall that I played in a football match for Munich Irish Rovers against the league leaders, a turkish team called Bajuwaren III. We’d played fantastically and with 10 minutes to go took the lead. From this point we thought we had 3 points in the bag, especially as the opposition were arguing amongst themselves. This was not to be the case. Straight from the kick-off their captain booted two of our players and looked like he was going to kill someone. The referee, naturally, sent him off but this was just fuel to the fire at this stage. After trying to fight with most of our team he then turned on both the referee and his mum. Perhaps fearing for his life the referee abandoned the game. All the evidence favoured us. Surely there was no way we wouldn’t get the 3 points? Wrong. Despite the overwhelming evidence we were told by the league that we’d have to replay the match, and this is what happened on Thursday.
After a delay due to a no-show from the allocated referee the match began and we found ourselves very quickly a goal down. Taking to the field in my newly bought boots I played better than I had done for a long time for the Rovers and assisted the assist (a much undervalued stat) which got us back into the game, 1-1. Despite numerous chances for both teams, the match finished as a draw, which did feel a tad like 2 points lost after the first match, but never mind.
After further football training on Thursday I showered, ate and headed over to Sabrina’s to get my drink on with her and her friends before we headed to Max & Moritz. Arriving at around 1am, a very obvious demographic could be seen on the dancefloor – namely drunk, horny, mostly english, teenagers. Then again the drinks were a euro each so we quickly caught up with them in one aspect.
At this point a notable mention must go to the forty-something bloke who’d headed to Max & Moritz on a Friday night with the sole intention of throwing some crazy shapes. And boy did he. Very quickly he created a radius of 5 metres around himself, enter this zone and you were in danger of catching a flying fist, leg, elbow, knee, head. Great stuff.
The night ended with a couple of ballads in the 90s room, belting out Atomic Kitten’s ‘The Tide Is High’ and Backstreet Boys’ ‘I Want It That Way’ to name but a few.
Saturday and Sunday finally saw the arrival of sun in Munich, but due to a hangover and an injury respectively I was mostly unable to enjoy it.
Sunday’s match for Irish Rovers was by far my best so far in the classic green and white hoops. Playing on the left-wing, I had the right back tied in knots and even managed to win a penalty with the last kick of the first half. Shitting myself, I shirked responsibility and the unfortunate Bushell scrubbed his effort wide. By the second half the opponents seemed to have clocked that I was having a purple patch and was marked more tightly. NOT THAT IT MATTERED. Whether it was the jägerbombs still coursing through my veins or the fact that I’m solar-powered I don’t know but I was able to run at the defence every time I received the ball and as a result I was fouled more times than I care to remember. The worst of these resulting in my ear-piercing to tear my ear slightly and bleed like a bad man. It’s still bleeding now.
Then, after around 80 minutes I peeled off my defender to run into space and all of a sudden my right hamstring went. Obviously I’d picked today of all days to ride my bike to football but thanks to the large family car and kindness of Geoff I was able to be dropped off outside my door where I could hobble inside. The doctor has put a 6-8 week time period on the recovery which could, unfortunately mean I may never play for Irish Rovers again. Let’s hope this isn’t the case! Maybe I’ll be able to make a cameo in the last game of the season but if not, then I guess I’ll just have to enjoy the sunshine and the imminent arrival of Frühlingsfest at the weekend – it’s a tough life!