For the love of it

It’s cold, but I barely notice. Excitement courses through me. I live for this moment every week. Tense. Waiting. Thinking of the hours I’ve spent training for this. Working on my game for nothing in return other than these sweet 80 minutes on a Saturday.

The whistle blows and we’re finally off. Calm. Clear. Passes out wide, doubling back. I sprint and stop. Sprint and move. Read play. Stand where I need to be. Here we go. Oh no, the ball tumbles forward through fingers and the whistle blasts. ‘Ohhh come on’ voices bark at me from all around. Heads shaking as eye contact is either avoided or used excessively. Just ignore them I tell myself.

The game plays on. Another whistle. Off feet is called. Groans.

Whistle. Not releasing. ‘For f’s sake’ a chorus of voices can be heard. It’s ok. Only one more half. I’ve trained for this, ignore them - you know what to do.

Remember the excitement. Remember why you’re here. You are confident and capable.

Whistle, whistle, whistle. Grumbles turn to groans turn to shouts turn to silence.

The last whistle finally blasts. Walking off the field many won’t meet my eye. Move in the opposite direction. Until one person comes and shakes my hand.

‘Well done ref’ they say.