Practice at 7.30 this morning. A number of reasons for the ridiculously early start, most notably the opportunity it affords to impact adversely at home. Wake the wife up by accidentally on purpose making too much noise as I stumble around the bedroom, bumping into as much furniture as possible.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ she asks angrily from beneath the covers.
‘Looking for my other Nike Mercurial Superfly Vapor!’ I answer far too chirpily, and all she can do in response is grunt.
I’m not looking for it of course. I know she has the contraband hidden at work. Still, always good to keep her on her toes. Having ruined wife’s cherished lie-in, I arrive at the field in great form. My mood improves further when I see the glum faces of the parents pulling into the car park.
‘What’s with the dawn patrol?’ asks one of the braver fathers.
‘Just my way of showing you guys who’s boss,’ I reply, and he laughs like he thinks I’m joking.
‘Good one,’ he says, half-heartedly.
‘Are you hanging around to watch the practice?’ I continue.
‘Eh, yeah, I suppose.’
‘Well, make yourself useful then and do a coffee run. I like mine black with no sugar,’ I say, not sure if he'll take the bait.
But, as if to prove my earlier point about my imperiousness, he jumps immediately into his car and heads dutifully to Dunkin Donuts. I like his attitude. Make mental note to give his son more playing time from now on.
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