So another season over and an emphatic finish to boot. Atlantis had nothing riding on this game other than to cement 5th place whereas Woburn mathematically could have stayed out of the bottom two by winning their last two games. However, 5 minutes into the game, it was pretty evident that they weren't particularly bothered. After Weston had stuffed in the first goal their shoulders dropped further and it was pretty much plain sailing from there. Afterwards we were to find out that as they have a reserve team in the league below they couldn't be relegated.

As it was all over the country it was a glorious day if indeed a little too hot for footy. This probably accounted for the small bit of handbags that took place in the second half, where the opposition were getting a little sick of seeing us run around with the ball. Other than that the game was played in good spirits. Returned to my natural right wing position I had great fun. Afforded acres of space to knock it about the match had the feel of a training session. Early in the second half I plundered the crucial third goal with a near post diving header which appeared to amaze everybody including my self. The rest of the game was spent with us hurtling forward all trying to score. Our two main strikers were a goal apart in the golden boot stakes and it was quite interesting to watch them battle with that fact whilst baring down on goal. I suspect that there were a few more solo runs capped with a shot this week compared with the normal collaborative efforts.

So a nice gentle finish to what has been a hard season. I have spent a fair chunk of it playing out of position, injured, or on the bench but I have enjoyed it in the main. My favourite game was the new years eve game against The Holroyd which we managed to pull off a draw with a makeshift team. I finished the campaign with a mighty three goals (Two headed!), sore ankles, a weird hamstring/butt muscle strain, several stud marks and a stiff back (A new one). I'm rather looking forward to the summer months for recuperation and the building of my enthusiasm for the next season. The only thing is, you won't read about it here, as this is the last post for this blog. You can still read all about the exploits of Atlantis though on their website, which I update.

Thanks for reading!

This game was horrible. Ockham only needed a point to win the league and they were always likely to do that. To give them credit they took our puny resistance seriously and even when they went two up they were still treating us with a little respect. They weren't to know that we didn't have anything to worry them and that again our slightly aged right winger was doing centre mid duty again. Hopefully for the last time ever. So inept was my performance and so thoroughly outclassed that I can scarcely remember two passes I made on purpose. It was embarrassing. It had quite a detrimental effect on my countenance as I spent the rest of the day sulking. Next week is the last game of the season. I think that even now Jubber has seen that I'm not the best person for the role. I wait to see if I will be reinstated to my usual place, or another Sunday horror show endured.

The big debate this week was whether I had scored an own goal. Leaping, like a salmon twisting out of a river, to block a lobbed attempt the ball hit my shoulder first then the back of my head to spiral crazily and head wind assisted into the net. Like a scene from an episode of Police Squad where the action is in slow motion apart from the guy who quickly glances at his watch (Actually, its Airplane 2 but I prefer Police Squad), the whole thing took about as long as it took you to read this sentence.

This match was a good un. Two teams playing the game in the right spirit, one better than the other, one team better at nabbing quick goals and sitting on them. (Not lidderally). Atlantis have of late become quite adept at playing the counter attacking football. Brought on by necessity we have adopted the "we have what we hold" cliche method. Knowing we are under funded in the midfield areas has led to us using the only thing we have a quantity of and that's pace. Breaking quickly and making the most of our few chances has reaped rewards. Having said all that though two of our goals came from set pieces. However these were our first for the season one of which was a nicely converted goal from a free kick.

The game was in the balance right until the end but after we had scored our third with 20 minutes to go I didn't think they had enough to trouble us further as both their goals were a tad fortuitous. I know it sounds a bit mealy mouthed to say that their goals were shit and ours were great but they were. So there.

So now we appear to be in the odd position of being able to influence the outcome of the league title. Ockham need to get a point from either us or the Crown and Anchor to be sure of winning it. In the unlikely event we beat Ockham they will need to draw or beat the Crown.

I know who I'll be supporting. 

Thankfully this week the opposition midfield was as bad as ours so we didn't get out classed as I spent another knackering game in the middle. Thats not to say that I didn't get a little bit roughed up by my counterpart. Easily twice my weight he spent a lot of the match squashing my feet, booting my legs and leaning on me till I fell over. Despite that, the match was played in good spirits bar one spat where the same player booted our center back in the chops. (No mean feat considering that he is 6' 4").

So miss count this week was one with another header blocked. No cards, no really loud swears and no arguements. It was almost as if I wasn't playing this week. . In fact this week drifted by almost without any incident whatsoever. The game was OK, we were OK. Its all OKKKKKKKKKKKK.

Sorry, I don't have anymore than that.

After being happily, if somewhat rudely, awoken at 4.30 am to find out that my chum (See Peanut comments) had taken delivery of his new son Jensen, I was able to reflect that this might be a good omen. Groggily lying on my back I considered that maybe today might a good day and that it was typical my mate would name his son after a car.

Any hoo the portent was good as sure enough I had another stint at midfield madness but this week we eeked out a win. Played in gale force conditions that ran the length of the pitch the game was a rather lopsided affair. Indeed if I was a Milford Green player I would have been right miffed that all the possession wasn't translated into goals. Football being the strange beast that it is revealed a win for us this week when we played a purely counter attacking game. Last week we pretty much dominated proceedings but couldn't hit the proverbial bovines rear end with the equally proverbial stringed instrument.

Speaking of which, my goal mouth fuck up tally rose quite considerably this week as at least 4 gilt edged chances went whistling away in the gusting wind. Added to the fact that I had been booked for a heavy challenge (I'm now the Atlantis bad boy) my customary filthy language following a mistake nearly saw me sent off. Still with some last ditch defensive work done in the second half the boys in blue prevailed and my sorry record of no wins whilst playing in midfield was finally broken.

Now if I can arrange for Max to have a child every Saturday night we might win the rest of this seasons games too.

Another week with me in centre midfield and another loss. Casual onlookers will be starting to see a pattern here. Four times I have played in midfield and my stats look like this. Won 0 Drawn 1 Lost 3. That's relegation standard in anyones books. Luckily for us we have accrued enough points this season to avoid the drop. However the sparkle seems to have disappeared from our season. Key players are finding that there are better things to be doing on a Sunday leaving the guys who are left to muddle on.

That's not to say that the team that took the field on Sunday was a naff one. All the players were regulars but, as it was discussed at the start of the season, we need to field somewhere near our strongest side to be competitive. Still, conceding two own goals didn't help our cause much and even though we spent long periods of the game camped in their half, our finishing was abysmal. To be more accurate, it was our final ball that was inadequate. All over the pitch the wrong choices were being made. A long ball rather than a short pass, a punt from the edge of the box instead of a lay off or through ball.

I felt I played alright in the circumstances. The opposition were easier than in previous games and the pitch was mercifully flat and dry. (Albeit a tad bobbly). This allowed for a good passing game but unfortunately for us we didn't possess the confidence to take advantage. Next week is Milford Green who are quite good. Lets hope we get some of our good players back. Like a centre midfielder for example.

I fairly perfunctory result for a game which at the outset looked like a formality. Pyrford have been experiencing squad problems all season and Sunday was no exception, seeing them bring only 10 players to the field. In the pissing rain and on a sludgey pitch we tried to play the game in our usual style but couldn't. After celebrating "messiah style" the arrival of JP our central midfielder I was happily plonked on the left wing. With the amount of space on offer it was difficult not to have a good game but this was at odds with the weather beaten pitch which made the legs heavy and normal functions impossible.

After having a fairly positive game I ruined it for myself with a silly yellow card. In a bizarre moment of confusion I kicked out at player running past me because I thought I had heard him tell the keeper to "hit him". It turned out he had told a defender to "hit it". The card was merited but what was more embarrassing was trying to explain why I did it. The keeper got himself booked too for his reaction, which seemed unreasonable considering how strange it must have looked seeing his team mate getting booted for no reason.

Apart from that I missed two great chances and got both ankles totally trodden on. At least that made the procession of the game more interesting.

Another week without any central midfielders meant that muggins here had to try his best and improve on last weeks poor showing. The game very nearly got cancelled owning to the amount of rain experienced in the area. Goldsworth Park was totally unplayable and our rearranged venue had suffered similarly. After some hasty calls a spare pitch was located in Guildfords Stoke Park. The best way to describe Stoke Park is undulating. Standing at the top goal and looking down the sloping pitch it isn't exaggerating to say that the bottom of the pitch is fully 20 feet lower than the top. The left side is at least 10 feet lower than the right. Take into account that the pitch was a sodden mass conditions for a cultured spectacle was not on the cards. However, this team we played managed to create some nice moves. Generally in all departments they were better than us but we had a pretty good go at getting something out of it. Indeed if it hadn't been for 2 minutes of woeful play by yours truly the scoreline might have had a more respectable look to it. In attempting to clear from an opposition attack the ball was charged down straight into the grateful strikers path. Then moments later I dwelled on the ball fractionally to long and had it nicked from me. Seconds later the ball was passed forward and deposited into the net. Unfortunately for me these two incidents clouded the view of all my hard if uninspired work for the game.

After spending 75 minutes trudging up an down the muddy hill watching the shadows of the opposition enjoying a healthy training session Jub to pity on me and subbed me off. I should think that will now end my shortlived adventures into the centre of the park and sense should see me bounding up and down the wing cocking up perfectly good crossing opportunities. 

We got a right wholloping this week against the second placed team in the league. Available numbers dictated that I was required in central midfield for a second time this season. It was a bit of concern for me as I had turned up sporting a cold/cough/sore throat and was expecting to play a supporting role rather than a lead. Also, as anybody who has ever seen me play will know, I'm not a natural center midfielder. However, whenever I'm asked to take one for the team I gladly pull down my shorts and bend over. Interestingly this week I had my very first personal supporter and sympathic fellow amateur Sam reviewing the proceedings. (Hello).

The first half I managed to make a decent fist of things. I was generally reassured that things were going OK and besides we were only one down in an even match. Sadly as the second half wore on the stamina dropped and so did my effectiveness in the role. 4 goals later, which only one I could have nipped in the bud, we were trudging off 5 down. On a positive note my weird muscle hamstring thing has appeared to have disappeared. If you can say such a thing. Next week we are playing in some totally made up cup for sad teams which have been dumped out of every competition going. We are playing a 1st Division side and therefore I predict my midfield services won't be required in JP's continued absence. Back out to the wing with me where when I lose the ball, it doesn't seem so bad.

Having said all that though. I do enjoy playing the position, I just wish I was a little better at it.

Shame.

So here is a picture of my cat.

He is mentil

The frost in question is the weather condition and not the middle aged portly detective inspector played by David Jason although he does read this blog*. Both teams turned up to witness an icy solid pitch with blanket fog preventing the sun rays from doing its work. With time getting on and the fog worsening the decision to abandon it was made, in the absence of the ref, by both team managers. I personally was quite pleased. I'm not proud to admit I didn't fancy it and my sore bits were extra sore this week. Also we were missing some key players so it was just as well since we were playing the top of the table. Next week its Real SPR again. I'm hoping to get my uncle down to watch. He will be the first person to observe me playing in the Atlantis Azure. (Not an amazing fact since its only Sunday football and people really do have better things to do).

Anyway, to those reader(s) that think this blog has jumped the shark I say this. The toothy aquatic predator was well and truly hopped over before this thing even started. Its never been cool.

*Complete falsehood.

Since I've only been doing this blog for a laugh I was a little distrubed to find out that Mikey, the webmaster for Atlantis, had detected I have been writing it. Ouch. I rather had hoped that I was going to keep this a little private and away from the eyes of the team. When he announced his discovery in the pub on Thursday I was mortified. I contemplated ditching it and may still do but when I looked at the webstats for January I was amazed to see that people were actually reading it. I've begged Mikey to leave off the Atlantis site. It's not something I really want everybody to see.

Anyway, this weekend saw me play again in a 3 - 1 win over Milford Green. Ignoring my complaining leg I lasted an hour before Jubber recognised I was blowing out of my arse and replaced me with a younger, fitter bloke who comes to training. Still, I had my fun. And a stupid arguement. Sorry about that DB.

I'm not really sure if I'll be OK again for Ockham next Sunday but knowing me I'll force myself and regret it later.

Probably. I've got training tonight and in my self deluded brain I'm convinced that I'm repaired enough to play. I know in my heart of hearts the legs not a 100% yet but at least if it gets sore after tonights activities I won't go busting it on Sundays game. However if it holds up, I probably think I'm fit enough to play.

I've been a bit stuck on how to heal this flipping thing. I had a jog from my car to the Blockbuster video last Sunday, because I had parked on a double yellow, and next day there was some soreness. I've had Jacquie give it a bit of a rub which seems to make it worse too. Then I've tried all manner of stretches and exercises but all they seem to do is remind me that a) My legs fucked and b) my hamstrings are so tight you could fire arrows with them.

So expect a pitful post in the next couple of days whinging that I should have left it and now I'm back to square one.

A crazy game this week which I took part only in the supporting role of linesman. Ahead, then behind, then got ahead to be pegged back, then got ahead again then managed to lose the lead and fall behind before time ran out. It took the appearance of a basketball match with regular goal attempts at each end. Atlantis did enough to win the game and in and if I were a neutral I might say that it was fairly even matched and both sides could have won it.

There was nothing more interesting to say about it than that really. On an unrelated note, I got cable plumbed in at the weekend. I've not had it at my residence since I was at uni and was quite looking forward to it. Had forgot in that time how much junk was on it though. I found myself fatally addicted to a show about women in world war 2 sexual awakenings. A series of stock footage movies with commentary from these eighty year old biddies telling the interviewer about their first orgasms. It was hideous and this program seemed to be the only thing scheduled all day on this channel. To be honest I was amazed the schedulers hadn't managed to turn it into a top 100 something.

Grannies remember: 100 best octogenarian sexual memories.

I was third sub and had asked if I could avoid playing this week so when Paul pulled up in the 88th minute with a hamstring problem I was pleased that I didn't have to join this turd of a failed cup game. The game was effectively beyond us from the first minute as a corner was met by an unmarked player lurking toward the edge of the box. After a half of finger pointing and bad tempers it was no surprise to see them trudge of 3 nil down. Jubber rustled up an incredibly passionate expletive filled team talk but it was to no avail. 3 minutes after retaking the field a 35 yard welly over our keeper put paid to any come back. The guys played well enough in the second half making several chances but this wasn't to be our day. Losing this however means that in two weeks time we have a weekend off. So if I miss next weeks game I will have a month off and my poor leg will be as good as new. Well 35 years new anyway.

On a positive note though I got a cat this weekend. Somewhat incongruously we have named him Monty Panesar.

Not much of a round up considering we only played two games over Christmas. One was a game before on the 17th against against the Crown and Anchor which, at the time, I couldn't bring myself to write about. The game finished one all but it left such a bitter taste in the mouth I felt reluctant to recount the details. In distilled form the match was played with all the sportsmanship and good will of a fight in a pub car park. Unbeknown to us the Crown and Anchor had recast themselves from friendly rivals to enemies. So much so that I spent most of the second half being threatened by players on the pitch and "supporters" off it. The one bonus I did take from the fixture was that I totally floored David Howells, Ex of Spurs, and got away with it.

On a much brighter note the game played on new years eve was a real gem. Due to the unfortunate timing of the fixture coupled with several dubious excuses Atlantis were down to an unusual bare eleven, with 46 year old Jubber making up the numbers. The previous day and nights deluge couldn't even save us as we arrived to find the Wisley pitch in perfect playing condition and, naturally, the opposition at full strength. (They even had to lend us a linesman). Anyway such was our squads strength in depth I was chosen the only one left to play centre midfield with Gary. Had mentioned to Jubber that my hamstring could have done with a another weeks rest but really this wasn't going to happen. Proceedings then followed an inevitable path with us being penned in for large parts of the match. However we did manage to match their two goals with ones from rare sources. One being from my head after a great chipped cross from Paul and the other and was a joy to behold as it was in the last 4 minutes when Jubber collected the ball on the edge of the box (From me) and managed to squeeze home a left foot shot past the keeper. Cue pandemonium and a barnstorming finish.

By the time we got back to the Sovereigns Jubs shot was already 5 yards further out and I'm guessing by next Sunday it will be from somewhere near the halfway line. Although I have now screwed my hamstring back to the state it was two weeks ago this was one of those games that will stick in the collective memories and I'm glad I was a part of it. As a result I'm probably going to have to take most of January off of footy, so this blog will now become even more boring.

Sorry about that.

In an attempt to get better and save myself for next weeks "derby" against the Crown and Anchor I asked if I could be benched today. The recovery of my tight hamstring is going well but slowly and is benefiting from not being played on. Although I'm finding it difficult to abstain completely. I managed to endure 50 minutes of training in goal on Thursday before a brief jaunt on pitch and similarly yesterday I bounced up and down the sidelines shouting encouragement for 80 minutes before before biting Jubs hand off when given a run out.

Its like 90 percent there. Sadly the last 10 percent takes the most time and I am welcoming the Christmas break as it will actually force me into inactivity. If it doesn't go away quickly the best recourse for me is to keep away completely, I just can't help myself.

Anyway, the chaps did perfectly well without me as usual, beating a rather vapid mid table team. I think I would have enjoyed it greatly as their left back was a bit suspect. Oh well there's always the return leg.

The Atlantis home game to Ockham was called off this week due to a flooded pitch. Saturday night saw the area experience one of the heaviest storms of the recent heavy storms. When I got the text I was happily watching Match of the Day taped from the previous night. "Oh good" I thought, "My poor legs could do with a rest.". Its true that recently I have been playing when really should have been resting. I've got this strange pull right at the top of my left hamstring. More annoying than anything but last weeks game was a bit tougher than most and it was really sore afterwards. Unfortunately for me I have this other voice in my head that says things like "Hey GPR are short of players, why not get a game with them!"

Then what happened was like a scene from a Tom and Jerry cartoon, where Tom gets little devil and angel representatives of himself on each shoulder. "I should go". "But you could do with the rest". "They might need me". "Don't do it, think of yourself". And so on. Inevitably I picked up the mobile and started phoning and texting people to see if they needed me.

After getting no response I let out little a internal sigh of relief, told Jacquie I wasn't going and went for a trundle round Farnham park to get out of the house. My escape was short lived as when I returned I got a text from Paul the new GPR team boss. They were a little short and yes please could I pop along. "Damn" I thought. Despite myself I've still ended up playing when I shouldn't.

As if to prove a point to myself my body let me know I'd made a mistake from the first moment I kicked a ball. My damaged left hamstring complained like a high maintenance girlfriend and I was left with the prospect of a 90 uncomfortable minutes ahead.

As it turned out the team didn't play too bad. I had a reminder of why I stopped playing centre back, namely because I suck at it, and the game ended 3 all. 3 times we gained the lead and 3 times we lost it.

It was nice to see the GPR lads again although the team has some newer, younger (I think) faces. I'm still mad at myself for going though as it looks as if I'm going to have to stop playing for a couple of weeks at least. The hamstring isn't getting any better and its causing other problems elsewhere. Anyway a week on the sidelines isn't going to kill me. Jubber might though.

Ok this is going to brief as I have already typed this weeks entry out and due to the idiosyncratic way my blogware works I contrived to lose it. And I can't be arsed to try and recreate it. Long story short. I had a hangover. I scored. It was good. And surprising. It was at a crucial point in the game as it drew the scores level. We went on to win 3 - 1 and are now 3rd in the table again.

See below for how it happened.

This Sunday saw me confined to the bench for the first time this season, taking my turn in the much touted "Rotation System". To be fair I wasn't much bothered as I knew it was coming at some point and to be honest I wasn't in peak condition. The game last week had taken it out of my legs a bit and I was carrying a few strains. Anyway, long may this system continue. In previous posts I have mentioned my scepitism regarding who gets to play. This week it was myself and our colossal centerback who were left doing keepy uppys at the side of the pitch. I hope to see some other regulars doing it in the weeks to come. I won't hold my breath though. I venture my face might turn as blue as our shirts.

Irritatingly, in my pitch side absence, the team played well picking up from where it left off last week. My tenure on the sidelines was nearly short lived as the chap who was picked to play in my position gashed his brow in an heading incident after 25 minutes. Fortunately for him and sadly for me he rejoined the game with a massive bandage all over his head. He lasted 60 minutes and I was brought on in his place. Played OK, had my customary shot on goal and generally enjoyed myself.

Next week features a tough away game at Bisley. I've got my engagement party the night before so I better lay off the beers. I've become a right lightweight in recent years. Friday night saw me downing an incredible 3 and half pints of lager. I didn't even feel remotely drunk and yet I still awoke the next morning all groggy. I tell you, its the beginning of the end for me.

A seasoned Sunday leaguer like myself learns to spot the tell tale signs of a difficult morning ahead before it starts. Turning up to the ground to see the already assembled opposition warming up in a well rehearsed routine is one. Then inspecting them closer you see that had circumstances been wildly unusual your team could have fathered theirs. A cursory glance over the pitch itself revealed and interesting potential challenge in that the sidelines were fully six paces from the 18 yard box. A considerable problem for wide players such as myself. As it turned out the lack of width was blessing in disguise. The baby faced assassins were actually youthful killers and they murdered us all round the field. Had the pitch been any bigger we might have spent the game looking at distant footballers playing a match on their own.

We gave a better account of ourselves than we have for a long time and that could have been case of us raising our game. I set up our first goal for a clearly offside Weston but I think the referee thought that our endeavour deserved a goal. As it came to the last 5 five minutes the team played the best it had all game but we were never going to win and were simply playing for pride.

So now we are out of the silly county cup, which we don't like being in anyway because you have to travel all over the flipping place. Plus you have to play all these really good teams with bizarre pitches. On the positive side we scored a couple of goals against a class side and nobody got taken to hospital.

Hooray for injury free Sundays!

This post should really be all about Manny Fabin our ever present left midfielder. On the 80th minute of a turgid game he dislocated his ankle following a simple clearance. With nothing more than a cry of "Oh no!" he rolled onto his back holding his leg. His distended foot pointing at a crazy angle instantly the play stopped, ambulances where hurriedly called and the two teams gathered into their respective groups. No matter how many times you see this type of injury, and I've seen it three times in recent years, it still makes you feel slightly nauseous. It probably has something to do with seeing a team mate lying on the floor with his foot at a complete right angle to his knee and you thinking that could have been you.

In fact shortly afterwards I found Paul sitting on his own contemplating the grass. Last season he badly broke his wrist playing football and has been trying to get his confidence back to what it was before the break. "I'm thinking of jacking it in" he was telling me. On the balance of what I've seen it might not be a bad plan.

Manny's accident wasn't caused by reckless play, a hard challenge or even any other player. He had simply caught his studs in the turf as he turned. As he was serenely being escalated into the back of the ambulance I noticed that he seemed relatively calm. He had had his foot popped back into its socket and he appeared to be enjoying the benefits of the gas and air. It was at that point I decided that I was going to carry on as normal and should anything like this happen to me I would take it like Manny did, like a man.

No football match for Atlantis or GPR this week which was probably just as well considering the last match. Since then I've sort of had a little word with myself and informed me not to behave like a little girl. This wasn't a real conversation but one that that went on in my head. Very difficult when you consider all the other voices in there competing for attention. Why won't they just leave me ALONE!

Anyway, a tricky game next Sunday against the team that just beat Ockham. I will be ready and available and this time I might give the drama queen act a rest.

Ok, so quite obviously the scoreline shows that we got thumped. Our opposition were better, younger, hungrier and most importantly not hungover. I had an ominous feeling about this game from the moment I heard that it had been arranged for our week off. We had been enjoying a false position of 3rd in the league, but hadn't beaten anybody of note. The grinning assembled ranks babbling about last nights excesses rather than properly warming up portrayed a misplaced confidence. We put up a reasonable defence but crumbled in the second half. Incredibly as the goals were raining in the small drenched huddle of subs and spectators wanted to put the blame on everything and anything barring our own bad play.

Which brings me to my own performance. I had the privilege to observe the second half from the touchline. So bad was my first half performance that I actually subbed myself. Much to the confusion of my team mates who seemed far too polite to agree with my chagrined ranting. But this was far from grasping for reassurance, this was calling a spade a spade. It was reasonable blaming a weird chesty cough I had for my lack of breath, but I could find no excuse for my lack of control. I was pissed off. Whats more a few players had started to get on my back. After 25 minutes I had decided, that was it, I'm off. I played better in patches, including an accidental set up of a goal which I refused to claim. It was to prove of no use, my confidence had gone, I wanted out. There were 3 subs all having to sit out because I had started and I felt bad for them. Paul was amongst them and he is a much better player than me.

What I hadn't counted on was that he was still pissed from last night. After begging me not to come off he proceeded to play like a man who had just come back from the pub. I didn't really notice, I was to busy sulking like a Haribo denied 3 year old in Sainsburys.

Oh well.

Far from playing each game as if its my last I have started to consider that any serious injury would probably curtail my "career" for good. This hasn't stopped me flying into tackles if need be or haring around to the point of over exertion for fear of doing myself a mischief. However, this has led me to thinking about how many seasons I may have left ahead. Thankfully Atlantis ranks contain two regular players who are forty. One, the club captain, still plays Saturdays as well. This gives me great hope, as I consider myself a quite sprightly 35 year old. In fact down the Sovereigns a couple of weeks ago a young female work colleague charmingly guessed my age to be 29. "Absolutely correct" I lied unable to bring myself to admit the truth.

The thing that concerns me most is that I will start to lose my pace. This is something which I've always over relied on in the absence of any great skills. Recently I've had a prolonged stint at right midfield, a position I've moved in and out of based on the availability of more competent candidates. It has helped me to be more confident on the ball and less hurried. In the past, on collecting the ball, my repertoire would consist of lumping it or legging it off trying to keep up with it. These days I have a nice line in the dropped shoulder and sprint. Unfortunately, I still come up against the odd whippet who is younger, faster and more adroit. I hope that when the number of these types start to outweigh the ones I can best I will be brave enough to call it a day. 

Anyway. There is always the veteran leagues.

Playing on a crappy ploughed sloping field against a team of man mountains it was difficult to truely get in to this game. My opposite number and I cancelled each other out in the speed stakes and so progress down my flank was sporadic. Due to this years rotation policy, which seems to have been accepted by all, I wasn't sure if I was going to start. I had purposely restricted my alcohol intake at the previous nights wedding celebrations although to honest it wasn't the sort of do where you felt left out if you didn't. Still, I had glugged a few G&T's, and was feeling a little unsure on the journey home whether I had over done it or even if it would matter.

Me about to be tackled

So I started the game but was hauled off after 70 minutes. Not, as Jubber explained, because I had played particularly badly more that with the subs we had on the bench my position was going to be the one replaced. I didn't mind. I felt I had played "OK", nothing special. I did leave the field with tens of little stratches and grazes all over my legs. Whoever it was that had tilled the pitch preseason had decided that what it needed was a generous helping of sand. I shall be needing to make a special trip to Guildford to replace the ton of aggregate I picked out of my cuts.

We've now got a week off. Plenty of time for me to get all revved up about playing again as at the moment I been left feeling rather flat. Probably because my mood often matches my performances or is it vice versa.

Either way, its pretty sad.

In terms of performance I had a bit of a mixed bag this Sunday. I was heavily involved in the first and last goal of the morning but there were numerous other situations in which I didn't deliver. Electing to go for goal on only three occasions the rest of the game was spent hitting crosses too long or wide. Its now becoming a bit of a worry as my team mates have started noticing this behaviour. Whether its because they expect me to be better or not is not clear but it pulls a little nerve in my gut when I can see the truth behind the jest. One guy even felt it was a big enough problem to approach me in the pub in front of the team. Explaining that he felt I'm probably in two minds when I make my choices. The reality is that I make my mind up very quickly but I often fail in the execution.

Its a difficult problem to crack. Even at my age I'm still trying to improve. I go into each game with a plan in  my head of one or two things that I'm going to do better. Usually this is based on errors from the last game I played. I don't get anytime to practise anything but my short game and I would say that shows. On Sunday both goals I was involved in came from running with the ball and producing a short delivery.

On the plus side at least I'm still getting a game and in them I'm seeing a lot of the ball. Just need to do something with it when I get it.

A great result and performance by Atlantis this week even if it was against the now bottom team. Granted a starting berth I resolved to put in a confident performance to someway justify it. Being crushingly self critical I have an obsessional predisposition to analyse every kick of every game I play in. Last year I felt that I played too nervously and would often fade from games frightened to make a mistake. I've decided to turn this on it head this year. Whereas I might have passed as soon as I got the ball last season now I'm trying to hold on to it a bit more. Invariably I will fuck up a lot, but equally I will do more things right and more importantly enjoy my games.

I managed to stay on for 80 minutes this week and I felt I did enough to claim I had a good game. There were two stand out moments for me which feel compelled to tell you. The first was that I managed to miss an open goal so easy that I could hear the guffaws from the sideline as I turned face down and trotted back to the halfway line. The second was a typical Smithism. After getting round the back of the rightback and seeing my cross sail over the bar I let rip one my more choice ear splitting expletives. It was remarked in the changing room after the game that they wouldn't be surprised if people in Woking hadn't heard it. I didn't feel particularly embarrassed about it until I left the changing room and had to walk the path of shame past several young children, some nice young ladies (Players girlfriends) and an old woman with an umbrella.

I mean what the hell was she doing there?

Its been in my thoughts and several hushed conversations recently that the team risks turmoil due to the amount of available players. Last Sunday saw the strongest side out since the start of the season but even so there were still key players absent. All over the pitch there is a doubling up of positions which would rival Chelsea in the cover stakes. My rather selfish problem is that for the four attacking positions (Wings and forwards) we have 6 first team players. On any given Sunday, which was nearly the title for this blog, we could have me, Manny, Paul, Mike Ziverts, Mike Weston and Tony all rocking up to play.

I would say that I'm the weaker player from that bunch. So whats going to happen? Well I guess a couple of stints on the bench this season won't kill me. What used to happen to me was that I would end up playing rightback as a more talented winger would take residence there for a season. This time it probably won't go like that as the position is already over subscribed. In fact I can straight away think of four guys who are fighting challenging for the spot.

Speaking to Jubber before the season his message was a little confusing. As he was signing more and more "cover" I asked how he was going to keep everybody happy if the whole squad was fit and available to play. He assured me that he had it all under control without actually telling me how he was going to do it. I suspected that he was just going to make it up as he went along, which on reflection, might not be a bad plan.

Based on what happened on Sunday I can already see some areas of concern. Paul Blackburn came off because he was injured, I came off because I was knackered, but Mike Weston was because Mikey Baralic wanted a run out. It was only for 7 minutes of play but Westons face showed his disgust as he trudged off the pitch. If the Atlantis culture of "Everybody gets a game" is to be successful, all players need to be in on it.

Typically the better players get left out of this style of team management. Denting their egos and risking them not getting out of bed is often too dangerous for most managers. The remaining slots are usually cycled amongst the remaining average players and through natural attrition and injuries a balance is found. Me, I just want to play football, Whether its with Atlantis or not will remain to be seen.

Anybody reading the above score line might charitably think that the teams change in fortune was precipitated by my return to the side. Although I did join my chums in blue for the first time this season I can’t really take any of the credit. Especially when you take into consieration that yesterday we probably had our strongest side out since the start of the season, including a goalie that actually turns up.

I can’t claim to have had much of a preseason as Atlantis games were mostly called off due to poor pitch condition. That coupled with the few too many recent celebratory drinks hasn’t left me in “peak” condition. In fact by the end of my warm up I was puffing out my cheeks. Typically, not a good sign. I was also carrying a knock. Incredibly I managed to pull a muscle in my back putting up the nets. Sore as it was I couldn't let it stop me playing my first match.

If I’m going to keep my place in the first eleven I’m going to have to get a lot fitter. I played well enough in the first half, accidentally setting up the first goal with a shot going wide and later streaking past two opposition members ten years my junior, but it wasn’t to last. At half time as Jubber was giving me instructions with the new substitute right back my head had gone all woolly and I had stars in my eyes. Despite my obvious fatigue I manly strolled on to the pitch expecting it to all go away. Of course it didn’t and I got subbed.

Still its good to be back.