Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Ahh, Sunday.

A bundle of newspapers to be browsed through on a speed reading basis, skipping the financials and fashion sections. The luxury of a pot of coffee from the family heirloom of a Percolator which threatens to explode and shower the kitchen ceiling with strong Italian blend. A cooked breakfast, old style forgetting the latest medical research on cholestrol and other artery cloggers. Not getting dressed until 10am.

On eventually,first stepping out into the great outdoors I become aware that for many their day is already a good few hours further progressed than mine.

Over two streets, through gardens and trees comes the sound from the Recreation Ground that the Hull Mens' Sunday Football League is in action.

In the days when we had dogs to walk we would regularly be on the Recca as the players arrived. The Sunday Morning after the Saturday Night seemed to be a bit too much for a reasonable proportion of those assembled, standing around, scratching, looking a bit peeky and shivering in the early to mid morning chill. A few had difficulty standing up and may not have been home between going out the night before and honouring their commitment to their team.

A cheer would go up when the Park Attendant opened up the security shutters on the pavilion changing rooms and there would be a rush to get out of one cold and into another that closely resembled it but with coat-hooks.

The non-playing contingent, injured, suspended, tagged or just supporters attended to the hanging up of the goal nets and conducting a quick sweep of the playing surface to remove dog faeces, used prophylactics, coke cans and anything else of a deleterious nature. There was not much that could be done for the erupted divots from unauthorised golf stroke play or the deep grooves and ruts where night shift workers had dashed across the field on their mopeds as a short cut to get to their beds.

The brave souls from the County Football Association who would officiate the match were chatty and friendly with the team managers. After all they all knew each other very well, strengths of character, resilience and how far to push, mentally and physically before conflict arose.

The squads rattled out on studs over the concrete paths to the pitch. The goalkeeper looked apprehensive as wild shots hurtled towards him or swore when he had to retrieve the ball from some distance away. In the absence of pockets on football shorts those still sensitive to the cold shoved hands deep into their groin or pulled their arms into their body leaving sleeves loose and flapping like erratic penguins. The warming up process was that easy.

Those who had been awake or concious between 11pm and midnight, just 10 hours prior, to watch Match of the Day re-enacted a technical piece of play, displayed an extravagant goal celebration or a graceful simulated dive. Others were well rehearsed in the latest style of ejecting spittle and mucus with no regard for the prevailing wind.

A raucous whistle signified a countdown to kick off. There was usually a delay as one or more players finally decided that a toilet visit was in fact required and returned to the changing rooms.

From my front garden I could tell that the mornings' game was well under way. The sky and air were blue with a terrible assault of foul language from supporters, hangers on and the players themselves. At those times when I had been dog and child walking when a game was in progress I would feel extreme embarassment at the vile tirade of profanities, insults and crude assertions and a fear of later, being asked by inquisitive offspring the meaning and definition of what sounded like very interesting and useful descriptive words.

In addition to the wave of pure, adulterated protestations sweeping in over the rooftops the relative Sunday peace would be interrupted by the referee constantly blowing for infringements, injuries, hangovers and goals.

Matches were, from the staccato of the whistle either major examples of civil unrest, a bloodbath, resembling an outpatients or the best, most end to end and exciting footie match in the history of Hull Mens' Sunday League.