Goodness gracious great balls of fire …

Yes indeed, I once had a short dalliance with the beautiful game.

As a wee fella, I competed in a football team - Birkenhead 9C. It was the year after I brought my very short inconspicuous rugby career to an abrupt end. I was a hopeless rugby player (and that is being very generous in the extreme).

I sought out rounder and more predictable balls.

So to the beautiful game I turned for solace and into the waiting arms of Birkenhead 9C.

Birkenhead 9C lost every game that year, but one – and that game we drew.

Once again, a football career of utter inconsequentiality came to a grinding halt.

Thus, after a year with Birkenhead 9C, I abandoned association football and took to more the individualistic pursuits of track and field and cross-country running.

My father was a keen and extremely useful football player. His first love, however, was cricket at which he excelled in his younger days.

Had he been alive today, he would have been delighted to see New Zealand football back on the map (as they say).

Well done … All Whites!

The beautiful game might finally get a decent airing in the country after so many years on the back burner.