The pitch for the game is now all booked up, with kick-off scheduled for 2pm on Sunday 14th October at Woodford Park in Woodley, the same venue we used last year. I've also managed to set up a fund raising page, which can be found here. This year, I've set us a rather ambitious target of £5,000, which sounds a lot, but we managed £3k last year, so who knows. The most important thing is just to raise as much as possible.

Dave came up with the great suggestion of going up to Woodley Precinct the Saturday before the game in our full outfits to try and raise some extra cash, which sounds brilliant. I'm sure we'll attract quite a bit of attention and if we have some official collection buckets etc, hopefully that will give people confidence that they are actually donating their money to a good cause, rather than the beer fund of some nutters dressed in inflatable outfits. I'll try and speak directly to Cancer Research UK this week to find out the best way to approach this. It could also be a way of attracting people down to actually watch the game on Sunday. It would be good if we could get more random people watching as well as family and friends.

It feels good to be organising this again, particularly this year, with Dad having stomach cancer. As supportive as I'm trying to be, I also feel a sense of helplessness at not being able to do anything to help him get better. That lies in the hands and brilliance of all of the medical staff at the Royal Berks, who have all treated Dad really well; he has nothing but praise for them. He and Mum are dealing with this all so bravely and sometimes when Becky and I are round there, it's hard to think that Dad has cancer, as we're all laughing and joking as normal. They're a real inspiration.

Dad's situation has really brought into focus how important it is to raise money for good causes and by putting on this event again, it feels like I'm doing something positive to help him get better. I'm really excited about this game. I can't wait to see what everyone looks like out on the pitch and I'm especially looking forward to the first corner of the game, watching 22 inflatable bodies jostling for position in the box. It should be a lot of fun.

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Firstly, I should probably explain why I haven't posted anything to this website for so long. I wish it was just down to pure laziness, but unfortunately this is not the case. On 3rd July 2007, my Dad was diagnosed with stomach cancer. Hearing the news from my parents was one of the most difficult and bewildering experiences I've ever had. My Dad is an incredibly fit, strong and healthy man (as demonstrated by his cat like performance in goal for the Smurfs in our first charity match in 2005!) and the idea he could have an illness, let alone one that could take his life,  just left me stunned. I guess it's just one of those things you always think happens to other families, rather than your own, but here we were having to deal with it ourselves.

The hardest thing to contend with at this stage was our lack of knowledge of how bad the situation actually was. Though Dad's cancer had been diagnosed, after doctors had examined the results of his CT scan, they couldn't yet tell us how advanced the cancer was and, therefore, what his prospects for survival would be. They still needed the results of a PET scan, Laparoscopy and then finally an Endescopic Ultrasound before they'd be in a position to let us know what, if anything, they'd be able to do for Dad. I'm not even going to begin to try and explain what these tests are, as I'd do a terrible job, so you're probably best to Google them! Provided Dad's cancer had not spread beyond his stomach, we would still be in with a fighting chance, but if it had spread, the outlook would not be very good at all.

Waiting for the results of these tests was just awful and I can't remember a worse time of my life. Time just seemed to stand still and it was almost like our lives were completely on hold until we knew what was happening. Becky and I talked about the situation so much that it got to the stage where there was nothing really left to say. As a result, we just ended up sitting together, enveloped by a strange silence as we didn't feel like we could talk about anything else because, well, what would be the point? Nothing else mattered except what was going to happen to Dad.

Finally, after the longest few days I've ever experienced, we received the best news we could have possibly imagined. Dad's cancer was completely contained within his stomach and hadn't even spread to any lymph nodes. I had no idea what lymph nodes were and still don't now, but what I do know is that it's good Dad's cancer hasn't spread to them, which is all I really need to know. The reaction I had on hearing this news was very similar to how I expect a person would react if someone told them they'd won the lottery. I was delirious. Having spent the previous few days fearing my Dad could be dead in six months, all of a sudden we'd been told he still had a chance. The sense of relief was unbelievable.

At the end of the day, Becky and I rushed home from work, picked up a bottle of champagne and went over to Mum and Dad's to celebrate. It might seem a bit bizarre to be celebrating the fact my Dad had cancer, but that's how we all felt. Although I'd never want to go through those few days of waiting for the results again, in a strange way, I think it was good for us. As a family, we'd been as low as it's possible to get, but when we got the news that Dad's cancer was operable, we were euphoric. Looking back, if we'd been told Dad's cancer was operable the same day it was diagnosed, I'm not sure we would have appreciated that it was operable quite so much, as we inevitably would have focused on the fact that Dad had cancer.  However, because we'd been staring death in the face, the knowledge that Dad's cancer was operable was just incredible.

It was only after we'd received this good news that Becky told me quite how good the news was. After Dad's initial diagnosis, she'd been onto the Cancer Research UK website and read something that she successfully managed to keep from me until this point. In 80% of cases, when stomach cancer is first diagnosed, it's already too late as the cancer is too advanced to be treatable. Every time I think about that statistic, I can't believe how lucky we are. As a family, we're going through something we'd much rather wasn't happening, but at the same time, we're so grateful to be in this lucky 20%. For 80% of families, nothing can be done, which is just awful.

If we fast forward a few months now to the present day, Dad's currently going through the second of his three cycles of chemotherapy, designed to shrink his tumour as much as possible ahead of his operation. At the end of his chemotherapy, he'll have a month off to recover and build up his strength again before having an operation to remove his stomach in its entirety. Apparently, you can lead an almost normal life without a stomach, which is something I didn't know, but am very thankful for, until a couple of months ago. The wonders of modern science. We've still got a long way to go, but we're hopeful Dad will be able to make a full recovery and eventually get back to leading a full and active life. He'll need to make adjustments, but at least he has the opportunity to make adjustments. Other families aren't so lucky and my heart goes out to them.

So, now you know why this website has been dormant for the past few months, as I've had rather a lot on my plate! However, I'm now more determined than ever to make this year's charity football match the most successful yet. It was always nice to know we were doing something good, but the experience of the past few months has really reinforced to me just how important raising money for good causes is. If the money we raise can make a difference to just one family, then it will have been worthwhile.

Unsurprisingly, this year's game will again be held in support of Cancer Research UK. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my friend Phil for being cool with this, as I'd previously suggested we could play this game in support of a charity that's really important to him. But that's the kind of guy he is - a very good friend.

As to the date and theme of this year's match, well I think I've rambled on for long enough now, so I'll make that the topic of my next update. Stay tuned though, as it will all get announced next week.

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Unbelievably, nearly a year has passed since 20 intrepid souls donned spandex tights, flowing capes, straight jackets, floppy ears and assorted masks, hats and wigs to help raise money for Cancer Research UK (and that was just the people who came to watch). As a result, the time has now come to venture out onto the football pitch once more to raise funds for another worthy cause (more on that later).

However, before we can go any further, we need a theme for our next game, something as ridiculous as Smurfs, Garden Gnomes, Super Heroes and Super Villains, only more so, to make this third game the biggest and best so far. 

At the moment, a few suggestions have come forward which may well fit the bill, but at this stage I'd like to throw down the gauntlet to the world of the interweb for someone to come up with a theme for our next game. We're looking for as many ideas as possible, the more outrageous the better, which we can then throw into the melting pot*.

When Dave and I first came up with the idea for our first game, we tried to think about what would be the most ridiculous spectacle for people to watch. Grown men dressed as Smurfs and Garden Gnomes was pretty much spot on in this regard and we're looking for something similar now. Something that will make the onlooking crowds say, "Am I really watching 22 men run around a football pitch dressed as...(enter your great idea here)...or have I been taking too many mind expanding drugs?!"

Over the next few weeks, I'll write about the best ideas we've received and then we can have a public vote on which is the best one, with the winner becoming the chosen theme for our third game. Blimey, this is beginning to sound a bit like Pop Idol, only with slightly less squeaky clean looking teenagers and a few more men with paunches. Maybe we can get Simon Cowell involved somehow? Anyone got his number?

*Please be assured I'm talking about a metaphorical, rather than literal, melting pot here. I wouldn't want you to think your great idea would simply get melted down, after you'd gone to all that trouble of thinking of it in the first place.  

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We even managed to achieve more column inches in the Reading Evening Post this time, which I'm hoping was because our game was an interesting story, rather than because it was a slow news day. However, given that this is the paper that once ran a half page news story on how my cat had gone missing, after my Nan had phoned up the paper to put a notice in the lost pets section, I can't be sure about this.

To a certain extent, I guess the improvements from last time were inevitable, as we now had some momentum behind us. When Dave and I organised the first game, we hadn't done anything like this before and were asking people to do something pretty stupid with no real idea of whether it would work out or end in humiliation. If people were questioning what the hell they were doing in playing in the first game, it must have been pretty hard for them to convince their friends and relatives to sponsor them and for said friends and relatives to be willing to part with their hard earned readies.

However, despite this, we accomplished precisely what we set out to do when we arranged the first game, which was to play a football match in ridiculous outfits and raise money for charity. Okay, we didn't raise a huge amount, but we had certainly laid the foundations for future success this time. This wasn't just some stupid, one-off piece of whimsy. By playing a second game, we'd turned our drunken idea into an annual event, which I think gave us a certain amount of credibility (provided your definition of credibility is that people no longer think you're a complete idiot, but only a partial one instead, which is an improvement...I think).

Setting up a fundraising page on Justgiving.com certainly helped in this regard and if you're reading this thinking of organising your own charity event, I can't recommend the service they provide enough. Basically, it enables you to accept donations online, which can then be paid directly to your charity of choice, and have Gift Aid added automatically to donations made by UK tax payers. So, not only does this save you from having to chase people around for months on end with crumpled up sponsorship forms, it also gives the people making donations the piece of mind that their money really is going to charity and not to your beer fund, which is good all round really.

Having said all that, Batman and Robin, together with Batman's wife, managed to raise about £400 between them using crumpled up sponsorship forms, which was an absolutely amazing effort and says a lot for their ability to hound people to pay up after the event.

So, in all, with Gift Aid thrown in, we'd raised about £3,500 for Cancer Research UK, which was a huge compliment to everyone who played and the efforts they made in raising sponsorship. Raising such a big sum really was beyond my wildest dreams and made all the effort everyone had put in seem worthwhile. Our fundraising efforts were certainly helped by Harris Interactive, my employers at the time, who agreed to double whatever we raised, as there were 4 or 5 of us from work playing in the game. Whether my departure means we won't be able to get this corporate sponsorship next time, I don't know, but I'm sure Harris will still be well represented amongst the two teams when we play our next game this coming September, so hopefully my former colleagues will be able to arrange something.

A couple of months after our game, I had a very nice surprise when I received a letter from Jacqui Harrington, the Community Fundraiser for Berkshire of Cancer Research UK, thanking us for our efforts, which you can read here. I hadn't really expected any kind of formal acknowledgement from Cancer Research, as I'm sure there must be loads of people raising money for them, so it was a very pleasant surprise to see they'd heard about our game and appreciated what we'd been doing. Having read her letter, I only wish I'd got in touch with her beforehand as it sounds like she could have supported us in all manner of ways, through which we might have been able to raise even more money. Oh well, hindsight is a wonderful thing; we'll just have to bear this in mind for next time.

So as we move on from our second game and start looking for a theme for the next one, the thing that really stands out for me now is that, if you say you're doing something for charity, you pretty much have a free reign to do the most bonkers thing you can possibly think of without anyone questioning your sanity, which is great. If I'm being completely honest, the initial idea of holding these games for charity was mainly to justify the lunacy of playing football dressed as Smurfs, Garden Gnomes, Super Heroes and Super Villains, otherwise we couldn't get away with it.

Seriously, what would you think if a grown man told you they'd played football dressed as Superman for no other reason than because they wanted to? The strange thing is though, even if we weren't playing these games for charity, I think most of us would still want to play anyway, just because it's been such a bizarre and fun experience (that's right isn't it guys?!....guys....err...where's everyone gone?!!).

It's a fantastic feeling to know we've had this much fun at the same time as raising money for good causes though. I just hope we can keep going and raise even more money this year. It's going to take quite a wacky idea to out-wack what we've done so far though, so if you have any ideas, please contact us.

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Shortly after the Heroes had taken the lead, the Villains equalised in slightly controversial fashion when a shot which the Heroes’ keeper probably had covered hit my arm and deflected past him into the net. This might sound like I was cheating, but the ball did genuinely hit my arm, rather than the other way round, so it wasn't at all intentional. Plus, I felt there was a certain amount of justice in this goal being allowed to stand seeing that, just a few moments before, the ref had outrageously disallowed my 20-yard screamer for an alleged foul on Hong Kong Phooey, which was a complete load of, well, phooey, if you ask me.

In real life, HKP is a policeman, a man who spends his days wrestling bad guys to the ground. I'm a market researcher and spend my days sat on my backside wrestling with numbers. In a physical encounter, which of the two of us would you expect to come off worse? The man with the nightstick, or the man with the clipboard? And yet, would you believe, I supposedly barged this hulking policeman off the ball. What a load of cobblers!

In any case, the goal scored with my arm was allowed to stand and, by half time, the Heroes found themselves 5-1 down. Unsurprisingly, they seemed quite deflated by this, which was not what we wanted at all. This was supposed to be fun! So, in order to even things up a bit for the second half, Darth Vadar, one of our two best players, moved from the Dark to the Light side of the force and joined up with the Heroes, with Obi Wan Kenobi moving in the opposite direction in order to keep the force in balance.

For me, the second half was memorable for a few different things. Firstly, the whole ridiculousness of what we were doing was emphasised during a corner for the Heroes, where a shout of ‘Who’s marking Batman?’ could be heard from Cruella de Vil, marshalling the defence of the Villains. For some reason, this really tickled me and has remained at the forefront of my memories of this game ever since. I can’t imagine those words have ever been uttered on a football pitch before and probably never will be again, least of all by someone dressed as Cruella de Vil!

With Darth Vadar moving up front for the Heroes, an interesting contest now developed, as his brother Captain Hook (bet you never knew they were related!) was in goal for the Villains. Being an only child, I don’t quite understand the rivalry that exists between brothers, particularly where any kind of sporting prowess is concerned, but it was clearly demonstrable on the pitch this sunny afternoon.

3 or 4 times, Darth Vadar found himself in great scoring positions only to be thwarted by Captain Hook in goal, leaping like a salmon all over the place and pulling off one save in particular that was akin to Gordon Banks's save against Brazil in 1970. Okay, I may be exaggerating here slightly, but I’m just trying to convey the considerable resolve Captain Hook demonstrated in his attempts to prevent his younger brother from getting the better of him. And he nearly succeeded, but finally conceded a goal shortly before the end of the game. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone celebrate a goal quite so much.

A special mention should also be given to Freddy Kruger, possibly the best player on the pitch, who was responsible for two of the more notable moments of the second half. The first came immediately after the heroes had scored when, in a move reminiscent of Maradona scoring his second goal against England in the World Cup quarter-final in 1986, he danced his way through the entire Heroes defence before calmly slotting home.

I’m not normally one to blow my own trumpet, but I’d like to think I deserve a little praise here for my part in this goal, as it was my pass to Freddy from the kick-off that set him on his path to glory. If it wasn’t for my vision and the deftness of my one yard pass to him, it’s likely that Mr Kruger would have had a little too much work to do on his own, as I’m sure he’d be the first to agree. Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

As for the second incident, this was a little more controversial and involved leaving Batman in a crumpled heap on the floor following a crunching challenge that seemed to come from out of nowhere and resulted in a collective “oooooooooooooh” kind of noise from both crowd and players alike. Just to clarify, in case it's not clear, we're talking here about “oooooooooooooh” in the sense of conveying shock and alarm, rather than the reaction of a game show audience upon hearing about what prizes the winning contestant was likely to win, which is more of a "woooooooooooh" sound, with an all important 'w' at the start. Anyway...

In his post-match interview, Freddy was adamant he won the ball, but unfortunately, in the absence of action replays, I’m not sure that will ever be proven either way. However, there can be no doubt that the challenge was a little out of keeping with the spirit of the day and rather unnecessary given that the Villains were 9-2 up at this stage and cruising. Still, what do you expect from a man who kills people in their dreams?

Indeed, you could perhaps argue that Batman got off rather lightly and should be thankful he suffered no worse a fate than clattering into a child's tricycle before hitting the deck (which, incidentally, was a fantastic advert for the tricycle's robustness, for which the manufacturers should be commended).

Fortunately, Robin managed to diffuse the situation by rushing over and telling everyone to calm down before things boiled over. I knew there must have been a reason why he was wearing that scouse wig! The game was soon restarted, but not before Mr Kruger was issued with a yellow card. I wonder how well the ref slept that night?

With the score standing at 10-3 to the Villains, the referee finally brought proceedings to an end. Whilst the game had not been the end-to-end encounter we’d hoped for, it had been a lot of fun and, moreover, a great success. We’d raised more than £3,000 for charity, which was beyond my wildest expectations and a fantastic achievement for an afternoon of silliness. Everyone who participated, from the players themselves to the people who came along to support us or made donations, should be rightly proud of what we all achieved together. Without that team effort, this just wouldn't have worked. 

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In this little boy’s eyes, Dave was Superman, despite looking like he hadn’t leapt over a tall building in a single bound in quite some time. It was a touching moment, as Dave had quite clearly made this little lad’s day, possibly even his life! It was nice to think of him excitedly running off to school the next day, telling all his friends and teachers about how he had met Superman the day before. I only hope the fact that Superman had struggled to unclamp the little boy’s hands from his leg for a few minutes in no way shattered any illusions he might have had about the man of steel’s strength!

The rest of the walk over to the pitch passed without incident, though we got a few funny looks from the players walking off from the previous game. You’d think they’d never seen Super Heroes play Super Villains at football before. Much to Dave’s relief and my disappointment, none of them ran over to him with their arms outstretched shouting “Superman!!!” His costume, whilst convincing in the eyes of a seven year old boy, didn’t have quite the same effect on men in their 20s and 30s.

At this point, it suddenly dawned on me quite how many spectators we had. Things had certainly snowballed from last year, when we’d managed to attract a dozen or so spectators at most. This year, unless my eyes were deceiving me, it looked like about 40 or so people had turned up to watch the game, mostly of their own free will, which was fantastic! And if you included the two unborn children being carried by two of Becky's cousins at this point, we had even more spectators. Okay, calling them spectators is perhaps pushing it a little bit, as it's a bit difficult to watch a football match whilst still in the womb, but they could certainly soak up the atmosphere, which is surely enough to count them in the official attendance figures in my view.

Some people had come quite a distance as well – Brighton, Bournemouth, Oxford and even deepest, darkest Wolverhampton. I'm pretty sure Woodley had never been quite as cosmopolitan as it was this afternoon. There was a real mix of generations too, with the youngest spectators (apart from those in the womb) toddling around and the eldest in his 80s, who belied his age by trying to start a Mexican wave, but was ultimately let down by the less enthusiastic youngsters around him. Booooooooo to them.

With the two teams assembled on the pitch, it was quite a sight to see them ready for battle. Everyone had made such a fantastic effort with their costumes that it was difficult to pick out the best one. Steve (or should I say his wife, Vicky) had done a brilliant job putting together a home made Hong Kong Phooey outfit, with the floppy ears attached to his mask a source of particular amusement. Meanwhile, at the other end of the scale, Richard had seemingly spent a small fortune on an official Buzz Lightyear outfit, complete with detachable wings, which was guaranteed to help him lose about 5 stone in sweat during the course of the game, given that he was effectively playing in a spacesuit.

At this stage however, a special mention should be reserved for Jamie, who was playing as Hannibal Lector. Jamie stood out from everyone else not necessarily because of the impressiveness of his costume, but because of his dedication to playing the game in character. Before you start worrying, no, he didn’t try to eat any of the Heroes, but what he did do was play the whole of the first half fully restrained in a straight jacket! If you don’t think this is worthy of commendation, just try running around with your arms behind your back and see how easy it is. Better still, try lying on the ground and getting up without using your arms; it’s much harder than you might think.

Unsurprisingly, this restraint left Jamie a little unsteady on his feet, but what he lacked in balance, he made up for in comedy value, as he ended up flat on his behind all of 30 seconds into the game and then struggled to get to his feet for the next few minutes. Imagine then the depth of his dismay, after finally getting up, only to get knocked down again shortly afterwards. Still, this game was much more about having a laugh than demonstrating footballing skill, so he fitted in perfectly (though I should probably point out he’s a very good player when he’s not restrained by a straight jacket).

In terms of the game itself, I was hoping for quite an even contest. The Smurfs vs Gnomes game had finished 10-9 to the Gnomes and at no point was it obvious to the watching 'crowd' which of the two teams would eventually emerge victorious, which hopefully meant that interest was kept in the game until the very end. However, from the opening exchanges of the Heroes vs Villains game, it seemed to me that the Villains probably had a much better side, which was a shame, as an uneven contest wouldn't make for much of a spectacle.

These fears were momentarily eased when the Heroes took the lead after some, well, aptly heroic wing-play from Batman, who unleashed an unstoppable drive quite some distance from goal that left the keeper with no chance. Unfortunately for the Heroes though, this was the only time they were to lead the game, as it went on to be completely dominated by the Villains. And quite how much the Villains dominated the game will be the subject of next entry...

Share this: del.icio.us | Digg | Google | Ma.gnolia | Reddit | Stumble Upon | Technorati]]>http://www.charityfootball.net/journal/rss-comments-entry-1084199.xmlSuper Heroes vs Super VillainsPaulFri, 01 Jun 2007 23:21:03 +0000http://www.charityfootball.net/journal/2007/6/1/what-moore-could-go-wrong-for-russell.html122551:1340891:1082309We arrived at Woodford Park to discover a few heroes and villains already congregated together, happily chatting away to each other. This was nice to see, as most of them hadn’t met before, which I guess just goes to show how the shared experience of looking like complete fools can help break down barriers between people. If everyone had been dressed normally, it might have been very different, with smaller, separate groups of people who did know each other scattered around the place in pockets. However, with most people already in character, everyone naturally formed one large group, effectively protecting each other from the ridicule of anyone at the park with no idea about what was going on, which was probably most people.

It was hard not to think of poor Russell at this time who, just a few short hours before, had been up here all on his own, dressed as Spiderman. What he would have given for this group standing before me now to have been here earlier. I had an image of him in mind, shuffling around the park uncomfortably, hoping desperately that the person looking strangely at him was not simply a man carrying home his shopping, but rather, was Super Carrying Shopping Home Man, so he’d have a comrade to stand proudly beside him, sharing the burden of Woodley’s ridicule whilst they waited for the rest of us to arrive. I tried really hard to find it in myself to feel sorry for him, but couldn’t help but laugh. A lot.

I’m not sure whether I found this so hilarious because it was genuinely funny, or simply because it had happened to Russell, as he seems to end up in situations like this all the time. Would I have laughed quite so much if it had happened to somebody else? Maybe, maybe not, but regardless of the answer to this, I now had another great anecdote for my best man speech at his wedding, which I was not exactly short of in the first place. After all, this was the man responsible for the funniest moment of my life, an accolade I do not award lightly, as there are quite a few contenders. What Russell did was so funny though, that I actually wet myself a little bit when it happened which, I’m relieved to say (groan), is the only time in my life I’ve had this misfortune.

However, I feel no embarrassment in making this admission. In fact, I’m quite happy about it. Things like this don’t happen to a person very often so need to be celebrated, not shied away from. We’re talking about the funniest moment of my life here after all, not just any old funny moment from the Top 100 or so. Think about it for a minute. If someone told you that the funniest moment of your life would pass by without you losing control of your bodily functions, even just a little bit, wouldn’t you feel a bit disappointed about that? Wouldn’t you feel like you’d missed out on something? Not in terms of sitting in slightly soggy pants obviously, which is not something I particularly recommend, especially if you’re sat in a car with two of your friends at the time, but in terms of experiencing an emotion in its most intense possible form. It would be like watching Bambi and not crying when his mum dies, even though you’re feeling sad. You’ve been moved by what happened, but not enough to truly let yourself go, which is a shame.

Okay, I think I’ve defended my weak bladder control quite enough now, so it’s time to move on. However, before we get back to the football, having given it such a big build up, I should probably just quickly tell you what exactly Russell did that made me lose control. Well, it all happened one Saturday afternoon after Russell and I, together with our friend Andy, had been to see Reading play at the Mad Stad. On returning to Russell’s car after the game, we got in, put the radio on, wound down the windows and headed for home, revelling in the reflected glory of a win over a team whose name I can’t remember.

It was a lovely Spring evening, so Russ had his shades on, his arm resting casually out of the window as we made our way through the salubrious surroundings of Whitley. Slowing down for a mini-roundabout, Russ noticed a group of girls over to our right, ambling along the path in the sunshine. Just as we were about to navigate the roundabout, spotting an opportunity to play ‘Daddy Cool’, Russ turned to the young ladies in question, gave them a cheeky smile and said “Hi girls”, before hitting the accelerator and speeding off up the hill towards Shinfield, no doubt leaving the girls suitably impressed by his charm and happy that he’d been in their lives, albeit briefly.

At least, that’s how I imagine Russ had expected this little encounter to play out in his mind. Unfortunately for him and my bladder, the reality of what happened was quite different. What Russ didn’t realise at this point was that his seat wasn’t properly locked into position, meaning that when he hit the accelerator, his seat flew backwards, leaving him unable to reach the peddles. As a result, rather than making a swift and impressive exit up the hill, we were instead left stranded in the middle of the roundabout after stalling, with Russ struggling to get his seat back into position, girls to our right laughing and pointing and me trying to minimise leakage from my bladder.

It’s very difficult for me to gauge how well this story works written down, as I’ve told it so many times before and know it inside out. I hope it helps to explain or justify my little accident, but if not, you’ll just have to take my word for how funny it was. Maybe you just had to be there? In any case, I’m sure Russell will be pleased this story is now freely available on a website for all the world to see. Actually, maybe I won’t tell him about this website; it’ll just be our little secret. Okay?

Share this: del.icio.us | Digg | Google | Ma.gnolia | Reddit | Stumble Upon | Technorati]]>http://www.charityfootball.net/journal/rss-comments-entry-1082309.xmlSuper Heroes vs Super VillainsPaulFri, 01 Jun 2007 23:11:35 +0000http://www.charityfootball.net/journal/2007/6/1/a-troubled-start.html122551:1340891:1082304Sunday 29th October 2006. The day of our second charity football match was here. Like a kid on Christmas morning, I woke up early and excited, impatient for the day to start. I got out of bed and looked out the window. Although it was nearly November, it was a bright and sunny day outside, perfect conditions for our game.

For about the 19th time since I'd bought my Dr Evil costume just a few days before, I tried on my bald wig (if it's possible to have such a thing) and practised my evil laugh in the mirror once again. Mwahaaahahaahahahaaahahaaaa. At this stage, I think Becky was just as excited about today as I was, though possibly for different reasons, as I'd imagine she was quite looking forward to there soon being an end to my bald wig trying on, evil laugh practising days, which were probably now wearing a bit thin. She looked across the room at me in a way that I'd like to think conveyed both pride and affection, but which a more objective observer would probably describe as pity.

Just on the off chance that I had confused pride and affection with pity, I offered to make us a nice cup of tea to start the day and get back in her good books, so wandered off to the kitchen. This was going to be a good day. The sun was shining and the birds were singing just for me…oh, and probably for that old lady I could see outside from our kitchen window, feeding the pigeons. In fact, I’d imagine they were probably singing a little bit more for her than for me, but certainly no more than a 55/45 split in her favour.

In any case, I couldn’t think of anything that could possibly go wrong today. Unlike last year, we'd pretty much managed to assemble two complete teams, which would hopefully mean much less running around. Plus, with Harris kindly agreeing to double whatever we raised, we were well on the way to hitting £3,000. Contrast this to the morning of our first game, when we had only really raised a couple of hundred pounds, this year really was a marked improvement. With the tea made, I wandered back into our bedroom, got back into bed and started to chat to Becky about the day ahead.

Glancing over to my phone to see what the time was, I noticed I had a text message. It was from Paul, a colleague of mine, who had unfortunately been struck down with man flu and wouldn't be able to make the game. Damn. I replied wishing him luck in his recovery and said I'd see him in a couple of weeks, as we obviously all know there are few things worse in this world than man flu, so it was unlikely we'd see him back at work for a while. Ah well, so we were one player down. No big deal.

And then my phone rang. It was my friend Russell. Unfortunately, it transpired that Russ wouldn't be able to play either. Two players down already and it was barely half past 10. Maybe this wasn’t going to be quite such a good day after all? Maybe the birds were just singing for the old lady that was feeding them and not for me at all?

With such negative thoughts now in my mind, you might think that Russell's call to say he couldn't play would have dispirited me somewhat, particularly as he'd dropped out so quickly after Paul had sent me his text. However, if anything, my spirits were actually a little higher than before he called, which might sound like an odd thing to say and a bit harsh on Russ, but there are a couple of very good reason for this. Firstly, because both Paul and Russ had dropped out, we still had even teams. Okay, we only had 10 vs 10, but that was fine and it was probably better than one team having a man advantage.

The main reason Russ had lifted my spirits however, was because of the manner in which he’d discovered he wouldn’t be able to play. Despite having gone out for a drink with me the day before, Russell had got confused about the kick off time for the game and thought it was at 10am, when in fact it was at midday. Unfortunately, there was no way he was going to be able to play in a game that kicked off at midday, as he was soon to be married to Helen and was meeting their photographer at 1pm to discuss the details for their big day.

Now, you may be wondering why I’m telling you all this and, moreover, why on earth hearing that my friend had to drop out of our game because he had to go and organise his wedding photos would bring a smile to my face. No, it’s not because I’m such a romantic that the mere thought of their wedding made my heart leap with joy; it’s because Russell had spent half an hour loitering around Woodford Park all on his own dressed as Spiderman.

Ever the Cub Scout, Russ had arrived for the game fully prepared, already dressed in his costume. This would have been fine if the game had indeed kicked off at 10am, as he would arrived at Woodford Park at the same time as many other Super Heroes and Villains and not looked out of place at all. Indeed, members of the public walking their dogs or watching their kids playing football might have even remarked, “Oh look, here comes Spiderman to join the rest of those people in fancy dress over there. What fun!”

Unfortunately for Russell though, not only were there no other Super Heroes or Villains to be seen, no one up at the park at this time had the slightest clue about the game we’d be playing there in a few hours’ time. As a result of this, rather than looking like he’d turned up to play in a fancy dress football match for charity, as far as everyone who saw him was concerned, Russell was just a fully grown man, on his own, in a public park on a Sunday morning, dressed as Spiderman. I only wish I’d been there to see it.

About an hour later when I’d stopped laughing, I turned myself into Dr Evil, Becky got dressed up as Frau Farbissina and we headed over to Superman’s house to walk up to the park together. This really was going to be a great day.

Share this: del.icio.us | Digg | Google | Ma.gnolia | Reddit | Stumble Upon | Technorati ]]>http://www.charityfootball.net/journal/rss-comments-entry-1082304.xmlSuper Heroes vs Super VillainsPaulFri, 01 Jun 2007 23:05:08 +0000http://www.charityfootball.net/journal/2007/6/1/search-for-the-hero-or-villain-inside-yourself.html122551:1340891:1082294In no time at all, people were getting back to me to confirm their willingness to play, together with who they were going to be. Within a few days, the team sheets resembled something of a ‘who’s who?’ of good and evil. On the side of the heroes, we had Superman, Spiderman, Batman and Robin, Hong Kong Phooey, Super Ted, Obi Wan Kenobi, Buzz Lightyear, The Incredible Hulk and Fred Flintstone (not technically a super hero admittedly, but he came in at the last minute and this was the best he could do. At least he wasn’t another strange, luminous ski mask man!). Matching up against the heroes on the side of the villains were Darth Vadar, Freddy Kruger, The Joker, Dr Evil, Mumm-Ra, Spike, Captain Hook, Count Dracula, Hannibal Lector and err…Cruella de Vil.

Although we were pleased to have attracted so many A-List heroes and villains, which would hopefully ensure a bumper crowd, this was not without its problems. This was clearly going to be a grudge match, with unfinished business existing between players on both sides. However, it was important the players didn’t lose sight of the fact that they were playing football to raise money for charity, not as a way of settling any petty squabbles they might have with one another, which would have to wait for another time.

Above all, people would be coming to the game expecting to see an even match, fairly contested between two honourable teams, not be short-changed by people cheating, regardless of who they were. With this in mind, I thought it was important to emphasise right from the start that, in the interests of fairness, all use of the force (dark or light side), flying, demanding one meeeeeeeelllliiiiiooonnn dollars, covering people in spider webs, biting necks, killing people in their dreams, eating the opposition, kidnapping the opposition’s puppies or use of any kind of spray from a utility belt were all strictly forbidden. Moreover, any cape tugging would most certainly be frowned upon.

With these ground rules laid down and agreed upon, I hoped it would now just be a case of organising costumes, raising sponsorship money and looking forward to the game. However, an unfortunate episode raised its ugly head that threatened to derail the entire game. For some reason, the heroes got it into their heads that this match might actually be a cunning ruse by the villains to distract them from their everyday duties of saving the planet etc, leaving all the other super villains around the world who weren’t playing in the game free to wreak havoc and mayhem unchecked.

As a result, they threatened to pull out of the game altogether, unless assurances to the contrary were given. For their part, the villains were quite understandably offended by this, arguing that just because they were trying to take over the world most of the time, it didn’t mean they couldn’t help raise money for charity too. Suitably humbled by this, the heroes finally agreed to go ahead with the game, but only after Batfink, Bananaman and Dangermouse agreed to postpone their boys’ holiday to Magaluf in order to cover everyone else’s world-saving shifts. Phew.

One thing we hadn’t done for the last game was arrange to have a referee. In the interests of making this match a bit more professional, if that’s at all possible, we thought it would probably be a good idea to get one, so asked around to see if anybody knew a referee who was a) available on the date we needed them and b) prepared to overlook the odd lightsabre, hook, or winged space suit on the pitch. Within no time at all, Becky’s brother’s wife’s parents came up trumps (not quite as tenuous a link as it sounds).

It turned out their neighbour was a retired referee and, despite recently having a hip replaced, could probably be persuaded to officiate. The basic premise of the game had been explained to him, but he asked if I could give him a quick call to go over some of the finer details. I had a good conversation with Martin, for that was his name and, thankfully, despite a few reservations about people playing in costume which, to be fair, were only out of concern for people’s safety, he agreed to be our referee, dodgy hip and all. Hurrah! I assured him that, should any hip related disasters ensue, Superman would be able to get him to the Royal Berks in no time at all, so there was no need for him to worry.

Setting up the donations page on Justgiving.com had really paid off. Donations were coming in thick and fast and we quickly smashed through the £1,000 target I’d plucked out of the air for us to aim for. Better news still came from my company, Harris Interactive, who agreed to double whatever we raised, given that five of the people playing were Harris employees. This really was a fantastic result and meant that, all of a sudden, we were in danger of raising quite a tidy sum indeed, which was completely unexpected if I’m perfectly honest. It looked like we might even get to £3,000, which was beyond my wildest dreams. Who’d have thought a football match between Super Heroes and Super Villains who were forbidden from using their super powers could achieve quite so much? Certainly not me, that’s for sure. It’s a real testament to the effort everyone who played put into their fundraising and the generosity of their friends, colleagues and family who donated, which we’re all incredibly grateful for.

Organising this really was a lot of fun. It was great seeing how enthusiastic everyone was, emailing me pictures of their costumes, talking about how much they were looking forward to the game and, in some cases, already making suggestions for what we could do next year. This drunken idea of mine and Dave’s really was becoming a regular and much anticipated feature in some people’s social calendars, which was brilliant. It was beginning to feel like people would want to play even if we weren’t raising money for charity, which I can understand because the first game was so genuinely funny. Plus, who wouldn’t want to play football dressed as a superhero?! The fact that we could support charities whilst having such a laugh was just the icing on the cake. And it was with this sense of happy anticipation that we moved towards our second game.

Share this: del.icio.us | Digg | Google | Ma.gnolia | Reddit | Stumble Upon | Technorati]]>http://www.charityfootball.net/journal/rss-comments-entry-1082294.xmlSuper Heroes vs Super VillainsPaulFri, 01 Jun 2007 22:54:43 +0000http://www.charityfootball.net/journal/2007/6/1/from-lethargy-to-leaping-tall-buildings-in-a-single-bound.html122551:1340891:1082284Okay, fast forward 15 months to August 2006. The anniversary of our first game had passed some months ago and preparations for our next game were moving forward as fast as an ‘asthmatic ant with heavy shopping’, as Edmund Blackadder might say. I’d been a bit slack in setting things in motion and it was getting to the stage now where friends were emailing me quite regularly asking when the next charity football extravaganza would be taking place. “In a few months'”, I’d say, and then put the thought to the back of my mind.

It was great to know that people were keen, but getting my butt into gear to sort things out was proving a problem. I’m not quite sure where all this lethargy came from, because we’d all had a really good time arranging the first game. I guess what with the daily grind, it was quite easy to think of myself as being too busy to organise things. And anyway, there was always tomorrow. Today, there were so many other burdensome demands on my time, such as doing the washing up, alphabetising my CD collection, clipping my toenails and catching up on the latest episode of ‘deal or no deal?’ Looking back now, I’m amazed I ever got out of the house.

I was finally prodded into action after reading a book by Robert Kiyosaki, a personal finance writer from the US, whose Rich Dad series of books have sold millions of copies worldwide. What did a personal finance guru have to do with me finally springing into action to start organising the next charity football match? Well, Robert talks a lot about how the words people use can affect their lives. He emphasises how the word “today” is used by “winners”, but how “tomorrow” is a “loser’s” word. Basically, if there’s something you want to do, if you take action “today”, you’ve got a much better chance of being a “winner” than if you put if off until “tomorrow”, in which case you’re a “loser”. It all sounds a bit cheesy if you ask me, but at the same time, I think there’s probably a large element of truth in what he says. And given that he’s a multi-millionaire and…err…I’m not…who am I to argue with him?

In any case, this struck something of a chord with me. I didn’t like the idea of being a loser. I wanted to be a winner. Winners are lavished with champagne, surrounded by buxom ladies in bikinis and presented with big shiny trophies filled with wads of cash. What do losers get? Diddly squat, that’s what. Okay, so I’m not a huge fan of champagne and, as a happily married man, I clearly have no interest in being surrounded by buxom ladies in bikinis, nor do I have any need for big shiny trophies. However, wads of cash would be good; not for me of course, but for the charity we’d chosen for the next game, Cancer Research UK.

If this was going to happen though, I had to take action and do something about it, so I decided to just pick up the phone and book a football pitch for one Sunday a couple of months in the future, which I reasoned should be enough notice for everyone. Once that was done, I hoped this would force me to get everything else organised, otherwise I would have paid for the privilege of having a football pitch all to myself for a couple of hours, which would be a pretty pointless and lonely experience.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to book up Palmer Park, the venue we’d used last time, as the football season had started up again and it was fully booked up. In its absence, I instead turned to Woodford Park in Woodley, which accommodated us with no problem at all. Though it wasn’t quite as grand a setting, it was cheaper, nearer to home and had a pub right on site for the all important post-match drinks, so was probably a better venue all things considered.

In terms of our theme, we’d decided to go with the idea of Super Heroes vs Super Villains, which I think Dave came up with largely because he has a thing for Superman (in a completely heterosexual way!). I had a slight fear that this might get a bit confusing, what with all the capes flying round all over the place, as the two sides could end up looking quite similar. However, the thought of seeing Superman running down the wing, jinking past The Joker, then playing a quick one-two with Spiderman before teeing up Batman for the opportunity to unleash a furious drive towards goal, only to see Darth Vadar tip it round the post, was too much to resist.

With the date and venue decided, there was one final thing I wanted to sort out before asking people to play. Richard, a colleague of mine and, without doubt, one of the most enthusiastic participants in these matches, told me about a website called Justgiving.com. Basically, you can set up a page on their website to promote your charity event and then accept donations online. All money raised is then paid directly to your charity of choice a couple of months after your event has taken place.

This sounded so much better than chasing people round for months on end afterwards with crumpled up sponsorship forms, plus it had the added benefit of allowing Gift Aid to be automatically added to all donations from UK tax payers which, at 28%, was not to be sniffed at. It really is a very good website indeed and whoever came up with the idea deserves a huge pat on the back. Unless of course they have back problems, in which case a more gentle pat would probably be more appropriate, or maybe just a handshake.

With this set up, I sent an email round to everyone I thought might want to play, advising them of all of the details and asking them to select their good or evil persona for the day. Was this going to be bigger and better than Smurfs vs Garden Gnomes? You know, I think it probably would be…

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