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Tales from your own footballing past

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RedZeppelin

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So after mentioning in the 'Football Boots' thread how lads in 'Flashy boots' used to get a good kicking back in the day , it got me reminiscing about the antics we used to get up to when playing . So as it's a boring international week , i thought we could share a few of these ..tales of brawls , laughs , success, failure...any experiences really .

When I was 17 or so I got sent off 10 minutes after a game had ended for , in the words of the disciplinary board , "escalating a fight into an all out brawl" ..haha . It was my first game for my new team , a good mate had asked me to join . It was mid season and the previous game against this team had apparently been very dirty also . Anyway this continued on from that . So the final whistle went , lads were walking off and as i look over my shoulder i see one of their lads landing a punch on my mate ...so without even really thinking I flew in with a really crappy flying kick and punch combo , knocking the lad to the ground . It all went a bit mental from there . Having to go to a disciplinary hearing was pretty much unheard of back then but I got away with a 2 match ban . Of course it turned out my mate had thrown the 1st punch .

I'll try remember a few more ....so anyone with decent tales ?
 
Best goal I ever scored came from a mistake. I was playing up front for once and was being marked by this huge gobby showoff, who was actually a decent player but didn't half know it. The ball was passed to me really hard along the ground, and he was behind me slightly off to one side. I lifted my foot to control the ball, but the pace of it deceived me and it shot right underneath. Unfortunately for Frankenstein behind me it also took him by surprise, and I was quicker to turn and go after it. He was pacier than I was, but didn't have the time to catch me before I stuck it away. It must have looked a real nifty effort and I wasn't about to tell anybody it had stemmed from my misjudgement of the speed of the pass in the first place. After the verbals Happy Harry had been giving me through the game, it was immensely satisfying to see him looking thoroughly sheepish as I trotted back to my own half for the restart.

And just to top it all off, it was my 32nd birthday. 8)
 
So many, where do you start right? I got sent off as I was coming on as sub once!

Leinster senior league at home, and the ref was being shouted at by all of my team on the line. I was not really a foul mouthed type so when I ran on, the ref shouted in a fairly sharp Dublin accent "Come over here Son, Eye wanna make shure you've got the reeh studs" to which I said " ah ref I am not your son" - trying to make a joke to lighten things - but the ref, he gave me a yellow!

I run back on the pitch and he calls me back - "let me see your hands", he says " for rings" . So I run back over and a little, (only a little) agressively shake my hands close to him in the air, (like jazzhands), and "look ref, no rings". He is already shaken up by all the shouting and gives me a red. Off!

The worst was a week later down in the disciplinary office in parnell square comparing stories in the waiting room with lads who had assualted refs, broken arms, legs, elbowed in face, broken noses.

"what did you do young lad?" "Me? I showed my jazz hands to the ref!"

I got in front of the committee, and the ref report said I had shouted a lot of bad language and abuse at the ref (untrue) and to defend myself I said no way did I do that.

And 20 years later, I remember to the word, what the little fella said to me " I know you yung fellas and I know you are very fond of the four letter words" - didn't believe me.. 10 pound fine!

After that in the club they called me Liberace! Jaysus!

Very funny one though!
 
haha , i remember lining up on your own penalty box to show studs and rings .
Ah the £10 fine ...classic .
 
In another game , we got a free about 25 yards out ..our best player , a black lad , went over to take it . At the time i guess it's fair to say there weren't many black people living in the city . Anyway he asks the ref if it's direct or indirect , ref goes "just take it" so he asks again "yeah but is it direct or not ? " , again ref goes " just hit it "..so he asks a third time and the ref just shouts " listen OJ , just take the damn freekick " !!!. I mean what can you say to that !! .

One game , i was playing full back so had to take a fair few throw ins .The pitch was like 5 yards from a small wooded area so i had to chase the ball in a few times . There was this one head the ball junkie watching and when i had to get the ball he was chasing me in swinging a rolled up newspaper accusing me of time wasting (we were winning). Then when i was just about to take it he'd stand right beside me and ask if i wanted to buy any drugs ...haha.

Playing in Bavaria was a great experience . There football isn't the 'working class' game like it is in some places , there it is king…. and there's loads of money in the local teams. The facilities and pitches are amazing .I was use to conditions where your kit would still be steaming because it was never washed from the week before ...or you'd have to wait for the team playing before to finish and hand over their kit . Here we had different changing rooms for match days and training , the kit would be hanging on the pegs when you got in, decent crowds would watch the games....and it wasn't even that special a standard .
But fuck they took it seriously ...for big games on Sundays they wouldn't even have a few drinks on the Friday before . They' were shocked at me and my mate playing after only coming home from the club a few hrs before , throwing up on the side of the pitch but still playing well .
One time they even tried to fine me because I was picked in training to play the following Sunday but never turned up . At the next training session the coach dragged me out in front of the whole team to ‘shame’ me . Turned out one the other player’s girlfriend had seen me dancing with some girl at 6am in a club and ratted me out .I didn’t even know this player’s missus. As you can imagine I was deeply shamed .
 
Great idea for a thread.

First time I ever played Sunday league I was about 13, I'd avoided it till then, which was weird cos all my mates played.

I was a keeper, firstly cos I was too shite outfield, then eventually cos I was a pretty good keeper, though a bit too small to cut it in Sunday league.

Second game I played, we're winning 2-1, about 20 mins to go, & I've been fucking battered every corner by their forwards, who just jumped all over me & did the old stamping on your foot thing as the ball was swung in. I lost my rag & gave this fucking grok a kidney punch as hard as I could, & was made up cos he went down holding his side, ref didn't see a thing.

Didn't think any more about it & we kept playing pretty well, but couldn't score, then they got another corner with just a few minutes to go, & I had my manager screaming me to stay composed. Just before the ball swings in, the aforementioned grok knees me in the balls, I almost fucking blacked out, I was down for about 5 minutes.

When I stopped being in so much pain & wondering whether my testes were actually in my stomach my mate tells me he'd seen the punch, & had dived in two footed at the grok as he went to get the ball a couple of seconds later, conceding a pen.

I compose myself as much as possible & stand in the centre, facing, yep, you guessed it, the grok. I'm proper shitting myself, feeling a thousand eyes staring at me, when in reality there was about 17 people & three dogs, so I'm actually telling myself not to pick a side early cos there's no way he'd hit it hard enough I wouldn't be able to move in time to get it. I'm staring at the ball, just the ball, trying to get myself 'in the zone' & ignore the lingering winded pain sensation in my groin & stomach.

I continue to stare at the ball as his foot swings through it, & remember thinking 'Fuck, he's wellied that' a split second before it went through my hands & hit me square in the balls.

Thankfully I collapsed on to the ball with my hands, but believe me, at the moment I really didn't give a shit, much to the amusement of my teammates who were busy celebrating & thanking me, all whilst pissing themselves laughing.
 
Oh man, that made my eyes water from here. I remember once playing in the office five-a-side league, closing down somebody who was just about to shoot and getting the ball right in my knacker's yard from inches away. The game was taking place at the local sports centre and there was a viewing gallery on the first floor. As I straightened up from my previous doubled-over position, with my hands still covering my devastated wedding tackle, I saw a group of three girls standing in the gallery, holding drinks they'd obv.got from the bar alongside it and laughing their freakin heads off.
 
christ i remember that pain . I remember one 5-a-side session this scottish lad got it full power in the nads ...he's humped over trying to recover when this crazy mexican who was also playing saunters over , tries to pick him up and attempt to give him what can only be described as a cross between the heimlich maneuver and a mounting of the scottish lad. He swore it was some mexican bandit cure for it but it just made things worse , to everyone's amusement but the Scot's .
 
My brother and I used to play five a side on the pitz in Liverpool. At first it was just a kickabout until we got asked to join one of the leagues on a Monday night. Everything was fine for the first few weeks. The standard wasn't great but it was a bit of fun and there wasn't any hassle. Then one week we played a gangs of schoolkids and we noticed that a couple of them had remnants of black eyes and fat lips, and one lad had a cast on his arm. When we asked who they had been fighting with they told it was the team we were due to play the following week. At the end of the game they basically warned us not to turn up because it would it turn into a brawl, which it did........

3 of our team didn't show up so we had one sub who refused to come on and eventually ran off in the direction of the the changing rooms when one of their subs chinned him. I have played Sunday league football against some nasty teams but these were on another level. I would describe it like a scene from Slapshot and the match was eventually abandoned with several fights carrying on after the game - I've still got a depressed knuckle over a decade later from punching someone who was coming at me with a glass lucozade bottle. The ref told us he was going to get them thrown out, but they were still there the following week. Then about half way through our game the police arrived and we later found out that one of these goons had stabbed someone in the arm, having produce a knife from his sock. Packed in playing after that.
 
I had to break up a fight at a tournament a few months ago, and one guy (not american) announced he was heading to the car - to get a gun. We called the police and that was the end of it, thankfully.
 
[quote author=RedZeppelin link=topic=47148.msg1410689#msg1410689 date=1318269090]
haha , i remember lining up on your own penalty box to show studs and rings .
Ah the £10 fine ...classic .
[/quote]

I know, gas right? Some great stories there lads...
 
Under 17's i was playing as a LWB even though im a STRIKER, the other team only had 7 players + the GK show up.
It was an easy match with us having all the posession but finally they had a shot (from half way) which our GK saved, rolled it infront of me and i decided to head up the field taking players on (some didnt even bother challenging me) and eventually from LB i was 1 on 1 with their GK, he dived the wrong way, i ran into an open net, sat on the ball near the line and then back-heeled it in. (i then got subbed by my coach for taking the piss. training 2 days later was a day id rather forget)

another

Under 15's Superleague (we had just been promoted from the A's and it was the new season) 1st game of the season we played a team that topped the superleague the year before with a massive goal difference. We lost the game 3-1 having only crossed the half way line once all match. (should've lost 10-1 but our GK was having game of his life).
Ball came out to me on the right wing (counter attack), took 2 players on, played a one/two with my team mate, took on another player and unleashed 1 from just outside the box and went top corner.

last one (as i have many)

Ball came out to my mate, he took on a player, left him for dead everyone waiting for it in the box i decided to pull back outside the box, screaming at him to chip it to me (he didnt), ball go cleared thankfully out to me on the edge of the box, i hit it 1st time (kinda like the meireles volley last season) and went in off the post.
Same match they gave a through ball, our GK came out to stop it, their player went studs up and collected our GK's knees and left good marks with blood coming out (only for the ref to wave play on). Our GK was a psycho serbian kid (this was U15's also) and near half time ball came in from a corner and goalkeeper went up to clear it but inside missed the whole ball and punch the guy that studded him in the nose breaking it, then laughing and spitting at him saying "thats what you deserve cunt, lets see you stud me again". Needless to say he got sent off, gave away a penalty and we conceded. Half-time comes and we have an all in brawl with punches being thrown from both teams as the father of the kid threw abuse at our GK who retaliated by running after him aswell.

Good times
 
I once got subbed after 15 seconds of a game. We were playing away and I was supposed to be a sub, one of the cars got lost on the way and we only had 7 players at kick off time. The ref wouldnt wait and told us to start the game so we did, just as the other players turned up. Our manager told the ref he wanted to sub me, who allowed it and then reminded us that I wouldn't be allowed back on. I still get the piss taken out of me for that 15 years later.

My best ever goal was a diving header in the last minte of extra time in a semi-final. I've never told anyone that as I dived I was aiming for the top right corner and it went in the top left. I effectively missed my target by about 15 feet.

My last ever game I lasted less than a minute before getting sent off. Was managing the team as the normal manager was away, 2-1 up with only time added on left I decided to come on to shore up midfield. The ball went out for our throw-in, I went to take it when a bloke took a swing at my brother. I went over to split it up, the bloke took a swing at me so I one-bombed him. Cue a little riot. I broke my hand, have no knuckle on the third finger on my right hand and now can't make a fist.

Happy days.
 
I was crap. I was always the worst player in a good side. It occurs to me that if I'd have dropped down a division I'd have been the best player in a crap side. That would have been more fun.
 
I was an ok player on my uni side during my second year there.

We were playing in a tourney in Cornell against Fordham I think, and we were up 3-0 at HT already. I played the whole 2nd half. About 5 minutes in, I got to a rebound from the keeper and nudged the ball and as I lay down watching the ball cross for my first goal, one of my teammates run from the side and pushed it over. The goal was 'his.' As he celebrated, I slammed my hands down, "That was my goal." Ha ha ... The defender who gave me a hand started smiling and the gaffa heard it and gave me a "Are you serious" smirk. Later in the game, last few minutes, I got a great ball from the same guy and just outside of the box I let 'er rip with my weaker left foot. Upper right corner, keeper with no chance, and off I went celebrating like Ravanelli. Ahhh yes, that was fun.

We finished 2nd in that tourney and there were a lot of great memories (naughty banter, night at cornell etc).
 
I've got loads of stories. I never played any higher than the 3rd divison over here, but my team were one of the best youth teams and one season, our last season as a youth team, we made it to the national youth cup final.

I played as a centre back and the star striker on the other team was John Carew. Big as fuck even then.
He only played the first half, scored 5 goals and was subbed at half time. We lost the game 5-0... Needless to say but I couldnt stop him, at all!

In a youth tournament in Italy, we met a Mexican team which was just a big gang of psychos. There were so many fights all through the game, and when it finished both sets of players continued of the pitch. They literally kicked the shite out of you if you ran passed them with the ball. They got thrown out after that game and we went out drinking.

In a semi final we played, one of our strikers got the shits during the game. He was off for the toilet 3 times during extra time, and 1 time just before he was going to take a penalty.
Still to this day I laugh at the sight of him running out from the dressing room area and on to the pitch during the penalty shoot out. Scoring, and the off to the toilet again. Insane.
 
First the Mexicans "literally" kicked the sh!te out of you, and then that? I sense a common theme here. 😉
 
Best memory:

During a game our captain yells "chop him down" to me while I'm chasing down a player.
Two footed challenge from me.

Our captain gets sent off...
 
Thanks to my double citizenship I was capped twice in the U17 national side.

Not the biggest of achievements, but hey.
 
During a Sunday morning kickabout in a local park, one of the local pissheads who only turned up to make up the numbers went in for a tackle and shat himself. He was wearing an Everton kit with white shorts and not only were they covered in shit, so were his boxers.

He quickly removed both articles of clothing, slung them into a nearby bush, and then promptly made a dash for the nearest boozer, crossing a busy main-road in just his boots, socks and a shit-stained Everton shirt pulled down over his shit-stained arse. He returned five minutes later holding a plastic bag over his privates and told us he had been barred for life from the pub!
 
[quote author=25_05_05 link=topic=47148.msg1410948#msg1410948 date=1318339933]
During a Sunday morning kickabout in a local park, one of the local pissheads who only turned up to make up the numbers went in for a tackle and shat himself. He was wearing an Everton kit with white shorts and not only were they covered in shit, so were his boxers.

He quickly removed both articles of clothing, slung them into a nearby bush, and then promptly made a dash for the nearest boozer, crossing a busy main-road in just his boots, socks and a shit-stained Everton shirt pulled down over his shit-stained arse. He returned five minutes later holding a plastic bag over his privates and told us he had been barred for life from the pub!
[/quote]

Excrement story!
 
In a league game with local rivals (all the lads who played for them went to our senior school and the majority were little tear aways) it was level at 3-3 with minutes to go.

With the goalkeeper out of his box, a cross comes into me at an awkward height, halfway between my head and stomach.

Here's my chance to secure a 4-3 win and with it bragging rights in school for the next week. So the cross comes over, do I head it, or knee it, or what?

Shouldn't really matter I'm yards out, unmarked, and the keeper is nowhere to be seen.

It's flighted over and I haven't made up my mind, so I attempt to do both a header and a knee(er) which fails miserably, I pretty much knee myself in the head and the ball gets stuck under my stomach and the turf.

Keeper collects and play resumes, I look like a tit and we drew the game.
 
Saw Paul Gorst post and could have sworn it was going to be about your goal at Anfield.

I don't have any funny tales, I don't think. I have played at a decent level though and played at Anfield, Goodison and Notts County. Never missed a pen either!
 
Highest level played was Under 11s. Played up front for a whole season without scoring. Hit the post once.

Our goalie (the biggest lad in school) wore National Health glasses. Played in the rain once and his glasses steamed up. Let 2 comedy goals in, one was a backpass that he just didn't see and it rolled into our net. The other was a free kick that hit the bar, hit him on the back of the head & knocked his glasses off, and went in.

We were shit.
 
If you like mate. Although I went to Dioufs debut and he was awesome. I was convinced the 'serial killer' was the best striker ever.
 
[quote author=Halmeister link=topic=47148.msg1412013#msg1412013 date=1318605607]
Saw Paul Gorst post and could have sworn it was going to be about your goal at Anfield.I don't have any funny tales, I don't think. I have played at a decent level though and played at Anfield, Goodison and Notts County. Never missed a pen either!
[/quote]

Hahahaha, don't like to harp on too much about that. Only mention it once or twice a week.
But....
So the ball gets laid off neatly by moi to my jet-heeled strike partner, who dances off down the wing with his lightning pace, meanwhile, I saunter into the box, ghosting in like a fiendish predator and as it reaches me 8-10 yards out, keep my knee over it, bottom bin 1-0. KOP END. Beautiful stuff.
 
Barrymore Bombers vs The Borstal

Street team that did OK in the local leagues, but we had a brilliant private pitch (in the grounds belonging to the Borstal) right behind our houses so kicked the ball around there all the time. We would have an annual match against these huge tough buggers and on this occasion it was my turn to play 45 mins in goal. This massive git struck a sweet sweet shot from inside the box that crashed off the heavy wooden bar ..... the said bar then promptly came crashing down on my head knocking me out cold ! Never played in goal again.
 
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