JUST when I thought me playing days were finally over, I get the call to dig out me boots again. No, I haven’t been called up to solve Fabio Capello’s problem left-back position. This was much more dramatic than that. Last Sunday I got the call off me old mate Bryn Law to help out his team Bardsey Veterans in the semi final of their cup competition. I was originally going to play in goal because their star keeper, Chopper, was suffering with a hangover. But, at the last minute the Bardsey No.1 managed to drag himself out of his pit and take his rightful place between the sticks, leaving yours truly to fill his old striker role. And if I do say so meself, I filled it with verve and aplomb. It was an action packed match. The opponents, Wetherby, went into a shock early lead, despite only having ten men and half of them playing in shoes and trainers because they forgot their boots. The early goal shocked them so much they spent the rest of the 90 minutes with each of their ten men packing the defence, hoping to hang on for a famous victory. But it was not to be. Bardsey moved up the gears and the pressure paid off when a deep cross was headed across goal by my good self and Hodgey rose like a salmon at a waterfall, and nodded it in. The same tactic worked again minutes later, but this time it fell to me to lash in a volley from a tight angle. I pulled me shirt over me head and skidded on me knees towards the corner flag. I nearly knocked over three old biddies who were stood on the touchline so I stood up and apologised. The boss, Stevie G, kept us on the pitch at half-time sitting us in a circle as he wagged his finger and delivered his enraged team talk. Nah, only kidding. He did hand out the hairdryer treatment though, saying we should be all over ’em seeing as we had a million quid’s worth of talent on the pitch and they only had ten men, four of whom were still half pissed. I did stop him halfway through his rant to point out that my goal was quite good. He had to agree, but then reminded me that I shouldn’t be getting too chuffed with meself ’cos me place in the final was far from assured and anyway, I hadn’t even paid my fiver sub yet. Well, that put me right off me game. Normally it’s me who gets paid for scoring goals and here I was, no goal bonus and a fiver down. I went on to miss about four sitters – to the amusement of the crowd and several of my new team-mates. We scored another to make it 1-3 but I was starting to worry about me fiver and I must admit I couldn’t concentrate. Insult was added to injury when I got flattened in the box. I was too shook up to take the penalty so the trusty Sutty stepped up only to see his effort saved by a goalie wearing a multi-coloured bobble hat – he looked like a psychedelic Noddy. Sutty made amends by slotting in a fourth and soon the whistle blew and Bardsey Vets were in the final! After the match we had a luxury slap up meal of beans and chips. Chopper looked at his plate, looked up at me and broke into a big broad grin. “Living the dream, Deano!” he said. I enjoyed helping Bardsey Vets get to the final, I don’t think I’ll be playing on the big day. For one thing, I’m black and blue and aching all over. But the main reason is the thought of it costing me a fiver. I know success comes at a price but I don’t see why I should have to pay for it!

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