| "O Alfe, you must come round for tea and prawn sandwiches later, they are simply devine!" |
Almost everyone who is likely to read this (which, let’s face it, isn’t many) will have at some stage of their existence played some form of sport. Some fancy themselves as the next Usain Bolt. Some reckon they’ve a better stroke than Tiger (easy). And others still find themselves lamenting about that time silly skinny bitch with the blonde hair, long legs and big breasts beat them in the egg and spoon race in primary school. (She cheated. So I heard).
Regardless of standard or quality, we have all come across all-sorts of players and opponents. Having conducted a secret experiment into such do-gooders and delinquents over the past 18 years of my life (I’m good), I here-by report my findings.
· The ‘I’m a boy, you’re a girl, therefore you can’t play sport so skip along and play with your Barbie’s’ species: this kind, often born into a family where the dad watches telly all day whilst the wife slaves in the kitchen, are rather mean and often bear an uncanny resemblance to a fresh steaming smelly turd. (NB I scripted my findings of this species when I was 9).
· The ‘child prodigy that just doesn’t quite make it’: such cases often have to be pitied, as after many years of being the next best thing, turns out…they really aren’t! Parents of such species are more often than not rather wealthy, have a lot of time on their hands, bear pointed noses and are most likely to be found shouting abuse at the ref, other kids, parents and generally anyone who just might be taking the glory away from their positively shining child.
· The ‘I’m an absolute cow on the pitch but I’m a star off it’ species: this is the kind of player you absolutely hate, the one who acts like total idiot for the duration of a game, but when you talk to them off the pitch, turns out they’re actually dead on!
· The ‘enforcer’: this person can be any size or play in any position, but damn are they scary. The best of the best cower in their comparative mediocrity beside this guy. Don’t cross this species.
· The ‘workhorse’: not much talent, not much going on up above or down below, but blessed with the fitness and stamina of a Duracell bunny. Will often fall over at random intervals, forget to stop running and hit the post, and ask what the score was after every game. With this in mind, such species come with all safety equipment as standard.
· The ‘untouchable’: the magician. Everything they touch turns to gold. Captain material, everyone respects this player and doesn’t dare question their authority. Often the ‘enforcer’ attempts to seriously hurt the ‘untouchable.’ Legendary status. If the team could afford to and this species retired, no-one would ever use their shirt number again. Unfortunately, more often than not the shirt (and all other kit) needs returned to the club for the ‘child prodigy’ species’ to use. All players should strive to become the ‘untouchable’. However, please note. First round, is always on them.
*** This blog is dedicated to my good friend and recently retired Irish international Bridget Cleland (well, McKeever). Bridge aka ‘child bride’, ‘bird shit’ or (my personal fave) ‘fidget ma beaver’ was truly a legend of Irish hockey, maybe not quite the ‘untouchable’ (hehe) but always a player who we all respected and admired. She is a hero to many, and will be for some time to come. J Seeing as she most likely will never read this, I can exclusively reveal she isn’t pregnant. But is practising.
