Over the last couple of years, playing football has slowly slipped off my radar. My passion for following Liverpool FC has never wavered (despite some testing times of late), but I have failed to actively immerse myself in the sport for a good while. However, in a personal pledge to re-introduce spontaneity to my life, I decided to tag along with my dad and brother on Monday (18th January) as they went to their weekly indoor football.
Admittedly within minutes I was physically fucked and I regularly reached for a drink, but I brushed that aside as the rush of excitement that filled me every time the ball came to my feet was worth the consequent pain. The whole experience was incredibly invigorating and I felt like a little kid oncemore. When it came to an end, I just wanted to play all over again.
My performance? I got stuck in, gave and received a good few kicks. Alas, I failed to score a goal despite my best efforts; my closest shot rebounding agonisingly off the post. A couple of short spells rounded off the evening for me.
To those of you that read this, you may dismiss this as pointless bollocks, but it has sparked a turning point in my attitude and I am genuinely looking forward to next Monday.
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