2-1 loss

AW(1), CB, CG, JH, RH, TH, TK, TW.

There is a saying in my trade, the construction industry…”measure twice. cut once”. And I think this could equally apply to the packing-your-soccer kit-in-a-hurry scene.

It was a Very slow day. Sometimes those nanna days are really slow. Like I’m itchy to get to the end of the day, and it’s just dragging along, totally oblivious to my pre-match excitement. And I’m 10 storeys up in my city studio, gazing out into the canyon, the abyss of concrete buildings. Daydreaming. It’s a killer view. And I’m just gazing out there, taking it all in. the concrete buildings. the cars below. the rooftops. the nude girl in the apartments opposite. The carparks. The air-conditioning plants. The Fucking What !

You can’t miss that flesh tone. It just jumps out amidst all the grey. And this is no ordinary nude girl. This is hot Asian girl. Now that is pert. And she’s just wandering around her apartment all day. Making toast. And listening to music. Calling a friend. I look at my phone, half expecting it to ring. But no. Finally she gets a little chilly and puts some red panties on. it’s like I’ve fallen into www.hot_asian_girl_doing_doing_ordinary_things.com. But without having to hand over my pin number.

Needless to say, I didn’t get a lot of work done that day. So much time gazing out the window waiting for her to call me. If only I had spent a fraction of that time double checking my soccer kit for the game ahead. Just a couple of seconds would have taken no effort. Instead, selfishly I gaze. And drool.

I turn up to the game, those pert breasts burnt into my retinas. I can barely see the court. I can’t even see the ball. I’m drunk on flesh. I get dressed. Where are my soccer boots? You are fucking kidding me. I have left them at home. Tommy comes through with a spare pair of shoes. size 45’s. It’s like I’m wearing flippers. I’m drunk and I’m playing soccer with flippers. I feel like I’m playing underwater.

Anyway. Given the circumstances I remember little of the game. I remember Chas lining up a penalty kick. He is standing there between two beautiful breasts. I want to run towards him and kiss him. I restrain myself. Chas side-kicks the ball to me. It’s sweetness. For a moment I think trap and shoot. But no time and I risk the one-touch. It finds the corner of the net. Goal.

The rest of the game is a blur of bumbling. Slurring from the side-line. And defensive play. We went down 2-1.

But I was drunk. I was underwater. I checked my phone after the game to see if she had called. a simple text ” U R my BCKDOOR MAN ”