THROWBACK THURSDAY: Sporting Injury

I am not a sporting person. Like a comedy comic strip character I think I've probably exerted more energy conniving ways to get out of participating in sporting events than I would have had I actually taken part.

However, for this Throwback Thursday (with the accident-prone Winter Olympics in full-flow), my thoughts turned to the story behind one of my oldest scars, a small, but lasting, slash across my wrist that you can - hopefully - pick out in the picture above.

Back during my three years at Yardley Court prep school, in Tonbridge, there was a changing room in the basement of the old house that served as the main building for the school.

In the centre of the changing room was a table tennis table, where - as well as straight-forward table tennis - we used to play 'round the table'.

Basically a normal game of table tennis, but played by a group of us (probably about six boys) and once you'd hit the ball you'd run round to the other side of the table.

I can't remember exactly how many of us were playing that day, but I'd just hit the ball and started running when I slid/tripped over the wood panel covering a footbath set into the changing room floor. As I fell my wrist caught a screw sticking out from the table's leg and it slashed my wrist.

I was helped to the school nurses' office (matron), where they bandaged my cut.

Seeing the blood pumping from my wrist, I got stars in front of my eyes - a new experience at the time (little did I realise that a few decades later that would become a regular occurrence) and I sank down onto the bed where they were treating me.

Obviously, given the cut's location, it could have been a lot worse, but as it was it's just become an amusing anecdote about how I got my sporting injury... playing table tennis!

HEALTH UPDATE: We Take The Kingdom!

Seven Sisters: The largest living tree in the British Isles

After last week's wash-out, we were able to get out for another healthy walk and tree safari this weekend, visiting Kingdom in Penshurst, a 13-acre woodland created in the wake of 1987's Great Storm.

I can't believe I've lived around here all my life (and covered the aftermath of The Great Storm as a cub reporter for the local press) and this is the first I've heard of the place.

It turned out to be rather impressive, and popular with fellow dog walkers on a Sunday lunchtime, probably because the recent persistent rain held off all day.

Kingdom is home to The Seven Sisters Chestnut, which, has six trunks (two forking) growing in a close circle that creates a girth of more than 50 feet. It's so large that you can now get married inside the heart of the tree, where a "roof" has been installed to meet the legal requirements of the wedding ceremony (that it has be conducted in a covered space).

There's a nice looping track through the surrounding trees, which we managed most of (I was walking for over half-an-hour this week).

It led us past the outdoor sauna and spa (which was smoking nicely, wafting a lovely aroma into the air) and opened up to some gorgeous vistas across the Kent countryside. 

Oooh, random Georgian mansion in the middle of nowhere... so Bridgerton

I managed to get some more tree pictures for my portfolio, but, unfortunately (for me) there were a few too many signs of modernity and man's influence (e.g. wire and plastic fencing of various types) to get that proper Shire vibe that I'm trying to collate with my pictures.

The trail loop then guided Rachel, Alice, and I back to Kingdom's delightful, elevated café where we decided to have brunch.

Given that I was awoken at 6am by our smoke alarm going off (the batteries were dead... it wasn't a fire) and then I was rather traumatised by the live coverage of poor Lindsey Vonn's career-ending crash during the women's downhill ski competition at the Olympics  (you could hear her screaming out in pain, the commentator was crying, it was not Lindsey's hoped-for fairy-tale return to the sport), I have to admit that I feel better for the brisk walk, fresh air and protein-packed "hearty all-day breakfast".

And we were home in time to see Chelsea beat Spurs two-nil in the Women's Super League.

So, that was good!

"Oh, He’s Football Crazy! He's Football Mad!"

"This is turning into an obsession now, isn't it?" joked my old pal Nick when I shared my purchase of the (controversial) new autobiography of former Lioness goalkeeper Mary Earps, signed by the legend herself.

Nick was referring to the recent surge in my fandom for women's football (which has resulted in Rachel telling her friends - with tongue-in-cheek - that she has become a "football widow").

The thing is, I'm never really been a football guy. I'm not even a sport guy. I'll watch baseball when I can (I'm British though, so it's a rare treat when a game comes on that's available for me) and, for some reason, I absolutely love international football, especially when England are playing.

I guess it's like my passion for the Olympics, I enjoy seeing athletes at the peak of their game - competing on a broader arena than just the weekly slog of domestic league tournaments.

I simply had no interest in the sport at club level.

It’s not as if I haven't tried.

As a youngster I read football magazines and comics (I was a big Roy of The Rovers fan and even converted one of my Subbuteo teams to his Melchester Rovers).

When I was working Matt and Nick would take me to the occasional Plymouth Argyle (their team) match and once I went to uni I even attended a couple of Bournemouth matches on my own, as my first residence was just round the corner from their ground.

I even used to watch Fantasy Football League with David Baddiel and Frank Skinner, but I suspect this was more for the fact that the hosts were two of my all-time favourite comedians than the subject matter.

But none of this actual football made any lasting impact on me.

That is, except when it comes to the national squad playing in a major tournament - the men's or the women's teams - and I find myself invariably glued to the TV.

For those couple of hours I'm a veritable football pundit.

This was taken in Rachel's old flat
about 20 years ago!

I'm not even sure how (or why) I acquired an official England Umbro top in the first place, but I now dutifully wear it whenever it feels appropriate to throw my weight behind our country. 

However, one of the 'problems' I've always had generating any enthusiasm for watching team sports is, even pre-brain damage, I have no capacity for retaining the details of what I've just watched.

Give me a superhero movie and I can tell you the minutiae of the plot a year later, but the moment I step away from a sport's match, either on TV or at a sports ground, I couldn't even tell you what the final score was... let alone who scored, or any fancy passing combinations.

That was always Matt and Nick's ability: they could regale you with trivia from football matches several decades or more earlier, with encyclopaedic accuracy.

I have to say I always envied them that. Not the specific facts that they were recounting, but simply their ability to know with such confidence the details of an event from such a long time ago.

However, now, in the wake of the women's second, back-to-back, victory at the Euros, and the increasing coverage of women's football my interest has skyrocketed.

My treasured Euros prize!

Strangely coinciding with my recent decline in physical health (which has also contributed to a rapid decline in interest for one of my oldest passions, roleplaying games) and my adoration for key stalwarts in England's line-up, such as goalkeeper Mary Earps, and, most particularly, the amazing Lucy Bronze (who played through our recent, triumphant Euros campaign with a broken leg), I now find myself actually drawn to weekly, club football as well.

I don't know if it felt like discovering a whole new sport to me or that I was getting in on the ground floor (neither of which, of course, are actually true), but I can now be found watching regular games, reading match reports, catching up on YouTube clips of thrilling game moments etc.

Because of my massive fanboying over Lucy Bronze - and knowing nothing about the state of the teams in the Women's Super League - I elected to follow Chelsea (Lucy's team) and see how that went.

It turns out Chelsea are, probably, the strongest team in the league (which was a bonus for me, I guess), with a squad that features a large number of Lionesses.

So, now, I watch - when accessible through our Sky TV package - weekly Chelsea league games and the occasional UEFA Women's Champions League match (when Chelsea are playing, that is) on Disney Plus.

I've been pestering my family for an official Lucy Bronze England jersey for my birthday or Christmas - but they are ridiculously expensive (£99 plus shipping), so I'll be sticking to my increasingly tight Umbro shirt for the moment.

Meanwhile, there’s definite irony in the fact that, given my current state of disability, I won an “official Adidas match ball” in a Women’s Euros sweepstakes, via Amazon, back in late July (see picture above).

I had been entering a ton of competitions in the hope of winning myself the Lucy Bronze England football shirt (so I didn't have to employ puppy dog eyes and quivering lip on Rachel).