I remember little of the game, except the goal I scored. It was a new and entirely untested manoeuvre into the quiver of countless backdoor triumphs. It was a full impromptu idea, just on my right foot and my boot and the ball all communicating on the fly, bypassing my brain even. Our goalie of that particular night, Joel, threw the ball out, and I was standing in goals, but with my back to the goals, and the ball landed in front of me on the floor, and with my back still to the goals, I back-flicked the ball with a deft twist of my ankle, deflecting its path upwards, and into the goal. I turned around to see what had transpired. Wait what? It actually went in? Oh my, what jubilation. There was some fine flukery in those split second maths trajectory calculations. And certainly that goal seemed to overshadow some of my pure clumsiness elsewhere in the game.

Our first half was a little scratchy, mostly in defence aka possibly me. But we pulled it back in the second half and were gaining. But in the end I think we lost 6-4.

After the game I cooked – out for Pho on Lygon st. It was super delicious and I pretty much flopped out a 7 onto the table. Great night. We squeezed into the photo booth after the game. There was some big smiles.