December 9th 2016

Today I retired from Sunday league football. A career spanning 10 weeks, 2 starts, and 3 substitute appearances ends before it ever really got started. This morning I text my manager the following:

Hey mate. Sorry to let you down but I’m going to have to drop out of the team permanently. There are a few reasons but it’s mainly because I don’t think I’m good enough. Thanks for having me around, and have a good season. Cheers.

He didn’t reply.

It took me three weeks to build up the courage to send that text, and by the reaction to it I needn’t have bothered. I stand by the sentiment though.

I’ve never been on the winning team when I’ve played, I don’t think that’s all down to me though. It’s correlative, not causal. The one game we’ve won this season I stayed on the bench the entire time because my manager didn’t want to risk the balance of the game. The last time I went he put me on when we were 10-0 down. No risking of the balance there, then.

I’m fine with admitting that I’m not good enough to play football at that standard. I have my qualities and Sunday league football isn’t one of them, it seems. It felt like a burden, that I had to keep going along because I felt I had to. So I’m just not going to anymore. I’ll still play indoor football on Tuesdays with my Dad, but I’ve hung up my boots and shinpads for now (without ever really getting them dirty).

Again, I’m fine with it. It just, you know, would’ve been nice to have a reply saying ‘you are an integral part of this team and we’ll fall apart without your innate ability to miscontrol the ball when it comes towards you due to the double vision sustained by the fact you can’t play football in your glasses’

If I blame the glasses it makes me feel better. I tried contacts but they weren’t much better.

I can’t exactly quantify how much better I’d be if I only saw one ball instead of two, but I reckon I’d be at least twice as good.

Until tomorrow, hang them up.



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