My Aughrim Street shame

One of the places I passed on my way through the traffic on Monday evening was a community hall on Aughrim Street in Dublin city. ('Aughrim' is pronounced ock-rim)

This hall is a relatively new building erected alongside an old church and I think it's main use is for local people to come and play indoor sports, as well of course as being used for community meetings and so forth.

Many years ago when I was a student some friends asked me if I wanted to join their team for a 5-a-side indoor football tournament. Clearly here I mean football in the European sense, in the original sense if I may.

These guys were all good players. I'm certain I was only asked to help make up the numbers :-)

Anyway the day came and we all headed over to this hall to get ready for the tournament.

We chatted briefly about who would play where and I ended up as goalkeeper. Now anyone who knows me will tell you that this is a bad idea. As a goalie I'm about as useful as an inflatable dart-board. I suck as a goalie.

Well heck there was no time to debate and sure what the hell, I said I'd do it.

The first game started and we were off and running quickly. Well the rest of them were. I was shuffling about on a padded mat in front of a metal goal about 1 metre high and 2 metres wide.

Suddenly one of the guys from the opposing team was bearing down on me. I have no recollection of what he looked like. I just remember him coming right for me.

Next thing I knew I had moved out very quickly to prevent him from shooting. He drew his leg back and blasted the ball. I flew across and the ball bounced off me.

All around I could hear shouts of "great save Shuman".

I was quickly back on my feet and darting from left to right tracking the play.

Again the opposition team swarmed towards the goal I was protecting and again for reasons unknown to me now, I threw myself towards the attacker smothering his attempt to shoot.

This continued much to the amazement of my team-mates. They couldn't believe where this raw energy was coming from. They had never seen me like this.

The referee's whistle blew. I had managed to survive without conceding a single goal. I was elated and really pumped up.

I walked towards the half-way line and stuck out my hand to shake hands with the guys from the opposing team. "Well done" I said.

"it's only half-time" snapped back one of the opposition.

In all the excitement and the intense concentration I was feeling during the first phase of play I had not stopped to think about how the match would be timed. I was sure the game was over.

Now I was overcome with a sense of dread. The confidence drained from me right there and then.

Suddenly we were underway again. The fear came back and I remembered all about how crap a goalie I was. Soon enough a shot flew past me and shortly after the game was over.

I didn't feel like shaking hands at this stage.

As I drove past that hall on Monday night I vividly reconnected with that moment immediately before the half-time whistle. The sense of invincibility and fearlessness that I felt that day, briefly but memorably. I also reconnected with the feeling of foolishness and self-consciousness right after my opponent pointed out that the game was not yet over.

Back then those negative feelings would have stayed with me longer but on Monday evening I smiled to myself, turned up the volume on the radio and refocused on the endless line of red lights stretching into the dark rainy distance ahead of me.