Mad Balls and Englishmen

So the time trialling takes a back seat for a while. What else has been going on?

Mid July we let 20 odd good friends invade our garden and camp out for the weekend. I could regale you with tales of late nights by the fire pit, telling stories, jokes, hurling insults, singing songs and laughing like only great friends can. But I won’t.

Instead, I’ll tell you about our trip to the park. We all moseyed on over late Saturday afternoon, a great mini trek across some green belt farmland situated at the end of our road. On arrival at the park we grabbed an ice cream. Then, what to do?

Someone suggested a kick about, great. A fantastic concept was put forward. Swap the football for a space hopper. Goals can only be scored from a header or volley. And so, Mad Ball was born. For the next thirty minutes all present enjoyed the most outstanding piece of sport witnessed in this country for many a long year. The game progressed, the rules evaporated. Pick it up, bounce it Harlem Globetrotter style, score a goal, or die trying/laughing. It was great fun, our team displayed silky skills, enjoyed loads of possession, and showed true grit. We lost 3-1.

As we made our way home, tired limbs, sore necks (you try heading a space hopper), we reflected on the opportunity we created.

Sincere thanks to the Poingdestres, Stotts, Birds, Windsors and Christies for a great game well played.

Now – where is Jacques Rogge’s email address, I reckon this is a shoe in for London 2012.