I've let myself down. I always prided myself on my sportsmanship and general fair play but you would never have believed it last night at five-a-side football.
Frustrated by my performance, a couple of 'iffy' refereeing decisions and what I perceived as an organised vendetta against me by the opposition, I simply cracked.
Not at the opposition of course nor even the ref but at my own team, my own flesh and blood, those I hold most dear. Poor John, he didn't deserve to be called a 'See you next Tuesday' but that's what I quite audibly called him, outraged by his criticism of my loss of possession. He apologised, I apologised and we went on to lose by a solitary goal but that wasn't the end of the matter in my mind.
Driving home, I started to feel ashamed of my outburst and my subsequent stropping off without the customary end of game handshakes. Only days ago, I'd been vocal in my utter contempt for Drogba and Ballack in Chelsea's draw with Barcelona. Now, a week later, I could be quite rightly be called a hypocrite.
Worst still, having found out that my pregnant wife and I were going to be having a son, I started to consider how I'd have felt if he (assuming he was interested in playing football) had behaved as I did. I'd be so disappointed, angry even - Oh God what kind of role model am I?!
My fatherly responsibilities hit home like never before. Suddenly, I realised how I would need to consider my actions in all aspects of life with far more care than I was ever doing now. What if my 7 year old son had seen me act like that? Old enough to understand what he was seeing and more pointedly hearing - I'd be devastated.
Needless to say it was an eye-opener.
Frustrated by my performance, a couple of 'iffy' refereeing decisions and what I perceived as an organised vendetta against me by the opposition, I simply cracked.
Not at the opposition of course nor even the ref but at my own team, my own flesh and blood, those I hold most dear. Poor John, he didn't deserve to be called a 'See you next Tuesday' but that's what I quite audibly called him, outraged by his criticism of my loss of possession. He apologised, I apologised and we went on to lose by a solitary goal but that wasn't the end of the matter in my mind.
Driving home, I started to feel ashamed of my outburst and my subsequent stropping off without the customary end of game handshakes. Only days ago, I'd been vocal in my utter contempt for Drogba and Ballack in Chelsea's draw with Barcelona. Now, a week later, I could be quite rightly be called a hypocrite.
Worst still, having found out that my pregnant wife and I were going to be having a son, I started to consider how I'd have felt if he (assuming he was interested in playing football) had behaved as I did. I'd be so disappointed, angry even - Oh God what kind of role model am I?!
My fatherly responsibilities hit home like never before. Suddenly, I realised how I would need to consider my actions in all aspects of life with far more care than I was ever doing now. What if my 7 year old son had seen me act like that? Old enough to understand what he was seeing and more pointedly hearing - I'd be devastated.
Needless to say it was an eye-opener.
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