Just a friendly, but great to get through 90 minutes

It was only a humble friendly between two teams from the Ashford Sunday League, but it was a real pleasure to come through the game unscathed after an absence of a year exactly. I have to confess I was aware of just about every step I took during the game to see if I could detect any pain from the fifth metatarsal in my left foot that I managed to break twice, last September and again in January when I made a premature comeback.

In many ways it was like climbing back on a bike. Parts of the game are easy to control and then football has a habit of suddenly switching up a gear, demanding a higher level of concentration, even during a friendly.
Sunday's game, in the delightful village of Charing Heath - spoiled only by the invasive hum of traffic on the M20 half a mile away and Eurostar trains hurtling past - was peaceful most of the time but then suddenly, half way through the second half, an attacker took offence at the way he was tackled in the penalty area and started hurling obscenities at defenders.
That problem was quickly diffused but as we waited for a goal kick to be taken, the offended attacker decided to move himself into the face of the centre half. There was no reason for him to be so close to an opponent, he wasn't going to be challenging for the ball. he was clearly looking to continue the feud.
So I blew up and gave him a telling off. I didn't have to worry much more about the issue because he was immediately subbed.
Otherwise, my failings were familiar ones. I'm too unfit and can't get close enough to the action. 80 percent of the time it's fine, but a couple of time, with the ball down at the corner flag and me 25-30 yards away, I had to give decisions that I'm pretty sure were right. I heard comments, however, that I wasn't close enough to make a good decisions. All true. But then again there were a couple of times when it wouldn't have made an iota of difference if I was 5 or 25 yards away.
Apart from that, there were a couple of plain mistakes. Once, I decided a keeper tipped the ball onto his crossbar. He didn't. And there were, as ever, plenty of times when a player said I'd made the wrong call, but twas ever thus. 
It was a real pleasure to wake up this morning aching all over, but in a good way.
Now I've hopefully got a full season to look forward to.