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Goalkeeping practice.

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Posted by Luke on February 10, 2021 at 22:45:39

My brother Billy posted on the forum “in the other place” as some call it and that has emboldened me to tell of our exploits this afternoon. I’m in my last year at school – or supposed to be – and doing A-Levels this summer but don’t really know what is going on as far as that is concerned. My school is not the best as far as getting organised with on-line lessons etc so we have been left pretty much to our own devices (I’m not going to say which school it is or even where it is as that will only lead to me being disciplined or expelled as our Head is generally considered to be an overly-sensitive and vindictive soul who takes pleasure in making anyone’s life miserable if he/she can – and that includes the teachers).

Today has been bright and sunny here and we have had no snow recently but plenty of rain. We live in a house just on the outskirts of a large village/small town (depending on whether you are posh or not) and there is a somewhat neglected soccer pitch in the field between us and the next building along the road, a public house.

My great-grandparents bought a farm locally and my grandparents expanded it to include the land where our house was built as well as buying the then derelict pub. As Billy said our dad died very nearly four years ago and mum also a decade before that giving birth to our sister Annie who is now coming up to 14 years old. My granddad is now retired and my two uncles run the farm, with a third running the pub. I was supposed to be earning some pocket money this last year by helping out at the pub at weekends, but that has gone by the board this year.

My uncle runs a couple of football teams – Under-14s and one for older lads – and me and my mate Dave are members of the older team having played since we were 13 years old. The pitch is not exactly Premiership standard – let’s be kind and call it 20th Division on a good day. It slopes ever so slightly downwards from the centre line to both ends, the middle stays relatively dry compared to the two ends – after rain the middle is best described as “splashy” and the goalmouths as “ankle deep bogs”. The teams play in a local pub league and it is probably ….. no ….. definitely the very worst of all the pitches that we play on. The two redeeming features are that playing there is a great excuse to get soaking wet and covered in mud without really trying and the other one is that there are very decent showering and changing facilities for the teams in a purpose built outhouse in the pub car park that provides plenty of hot water for the showers and is centrally heated, so no rushing to get in, changed and out again as quickly as possible.

Dave and I decided that as we had done all our required work and sent it off to our teachers, that we would take advantage of the sunny weather and have a practice session on the pitch. Dave plays in goal as he is tall, almost head and shoulders above me, and quick on his feet with super-quick reactions. I sometimes act as a back up goalie but my usual spot is on the wing as I am a quick sprinter. Older brother Billy was doing some work but said he’d join us later. We thought we’d do things properly so we changed into our team kit – white shorts, white socks, white shirt with blue vertical stripes – and pushed through the gap in our hedge to get into the field. The ground slopes down towards the pitch from almost every direction, which is why it gets so waterlogged, and the field is planted as a wild-flower meadow and not cultivated by my uncles who say it is such a poor quality soil that it is best left alone. It does look lovely during the summer though.

By the time we had walked the 100 yards to the pitch my boots and socks were soaked from splashing through the puddles and wet areas.

We warmed up by running a laps of the pitch and then Dave took his place in goal. We had bought a half-dozen balls with us so I lined them up and started aiming for goal. I was a bit wicked and lulled Dave into a false sense of security by making the first couple too easy for him to stop and he managed the two saves without falling over or taking a dive to deflect.

The third one I sent straight to the right hand corner of the goal and he had to make a full-length dive to try and save it. He failed and made a nice big splash as he hit the mud at full stretch.

“Right, so this is an exercise in getting me muddy as quickly as possible, is it?” Dave laughed as he stood up and turned to get the ball.

“Wasn’t that the object in coming out here?” I asked.

“Yeah, guess so. Wait until it’s your turn ……..” Dave grinned.

I knew he’d be wet and muddy, but was surprised to see just how much when he picked up the ball and turned towards me to throw it back. His entire left side was brown with mud and it was splattered across his face and plastered his hair on the left side of his face. He was also grinning from ear to ear.

By the time I had kicked another few balls at the goal he was soaked and completely muddy all over having dived in on his front to make one save then failed to get to another having jumped up and fallen on his back before rolling over onto his feet to stand up. We carried on until he was literally dripping with mud and his shirt, socks and shorts were totally unrecognisable as was his face and hair.

“Let’s stop for a breather.” Dave said “Then it’s your turn.” and he sat down in the mud with his arms around his knees. “Nice to feel the sun on my face ……” he mused.

“It isn’t” I laughed “It’s shining on the mud covering your face – there’s a big puddle over there, you could wash the mud off.” and I pointed towards the area to our left.

Dave got up, went over and knelt down and splashed water on his face until he was a bit cleaner. I watched his mud soaked shorts flapping around his legs as he walked back. The shorts are that soft feeling nylon and polyester mix that clings to your legs when it get wet, at least they are windproof so keep you a bit warmer from the knees up.

He stood in front of me, still dripping wet mud, “Shall we carry on? See if you can beat my number of saves, which I made 11 out of your 18 shots; did you keep count?”

“Not really, I was thinking it was a dozen.” I said as I ambled across to the goalmouth. It really is a mud bath, I thought, as I watched my feet sink into the mud with each step. I was about to take my position and get ready for Dave’s first shot, when I heard the sound of his boot against the ball and out of the corner of my eye a ball heading towards the goal about 8 feet in front of me. Unprepared, I dived forward with my arms outstretched and watched the ball pass just beyond my fingertips. I splashed down in the muddiest and wettest part of the centre of the goalmouth and slid forward a few feet, getting myself almost as muddy as Dave after just one shot, never mind the next 17 that were due.

I had landed flat on my face and mud and water had splashed back over my head and shoulders as I slid forward, I rolled over and sat up, before wiping the mud from my eyes. I looked down at myself and couldn’t actually see any white on the front of my shorts or shirt.

“You could have waited until I was ready!” I called to Dave as I stood up.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Dave grinned at me “Got you nice and muddy anyway …. Don’t count that one if you don’t want to.”

“No, that’s OK one down, seventeen to go.” I said.

I saved the next couple but on the next one Dave must have slipped as he kicked the ball as instead of lifting of the ground and heading to my left as I was expecting, it skittered across the ground to my right, so I changed direction and tried to reach it by doing a sliding kick in an effort to push it wide of the goal. I managed to do that but ended up sliding through the wet muddy centre of the goalmouth on my backside with my leg outstretched. That completed my soaking in mud, having pushed the ball away I just flopped back into the mud and lay looking up at the sky feeling the watery mud soak the back of my shirt and neck and the final hairs on the back of my head. I did a mud angel and enjoyed the feel of the mud and water splashing over my body and legs.

Dave wandered over “Well done, mate, that must be a new record for the quickest anyone got totally covered – just four balls!” he laughed.

He put a hand out and pulled me to my feet.

We were just getting going again when my brother Billy appeared.

“I hope that’s not your white team kit you’re wearing – you’ll never get it clean again!” Billy laughed as he looked us up and down “Have you been training or just rolling around in the mud for the fun of it?”

“This” I replied, gesturing with my hands up and down my muddy body “is the result of two excellent saves and two misses …. but also falling flat on my face and sliding on my back. Oh, and one quick mud angel whilst I was down in the mud. I’m sure it will just hose off easily enough.”

“Glad you’re so confident.” Billy laughed “So what are we doing?”

“Luke has another 14 shots to try and save. He needs 10 saves to beat me. I don’t think he can do that.” Dave said “Want to join me and we’ll kick alternate shots?”

“OK, I can do that.” Billy replied.

Well, it didn’t go well. I was slipping and sliding all over the place as I tried to save their shots and although I saved a good few, I was missing more than I saved. At one point I was on my knees in the in muddy wet centre of the goalmouth having saved a shot, and had barely throw the ball aside when the next one came towards me, I didn’t even have time to get onto both feet so lunged at it and got thoroughly soaked for the third time landing flat on my face and missing the shot. I ended up saving just eight out of the eighteen shots. I was so muddy I was shaking the mud off my hands just so I could pick the ball up.

Billy was laughing as Dave collected up the last two balls, and he said to me “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a football player so muddy before. Wish I had a camera with me.”

“Perhaps you’d like to experience it yourself ……” I said and I rugby tackled him into the mud before he had a chance to move away. We splashed down and then wrestled each other as he tried to get away. I got him properly muddy, not as much as me maybe, but well covered and soaked through.

Billy was wearing a pair of pale blue Adidas tracksuit bottoms and a yellow football shirt along with black football boots. Suffice to say that hardly any of the colour was visible apart from a bit of yellow just under his arms and a patch of pale blue on the side of one knee.

“What can I say? …. you got me.” Billy said “I’d have done the same to you, bro.” he panted as we caught our breath “This pitch really is a mess, isn’t it? I’ll have a word with uncle Harry and see if we can do anything, it’s not really fair asking other teams to play on this, is it?”

“The players I know all say it makes any game a real challenge.” Dave said “Some of them even like it and think it’s a bit of fun to get so wet and muddy. I mean we all do, don’t we?”

After that Billy had a spell in goal trying to beat our scores but he’s not really a goalie, he plays mid field normally, but it was fun watching him falling around and just getting wetter and muddier. We found a couple of areas of standing water off the playing area and spent a while sliding through it, laying down and splashing the water over each other trying to get a bit cleaner and then we went back to the house and hosed each other as clean as we could before going for a nice hot shower and some dry clothes. Our white kit came out after the first was looking reasonably OK, so we’ll put it through again tomorrow and hopefully it will be really sparkling white again.



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