So football has returned! Seems rather surreal though. There you have these highly paid prima donnas performing to a crowd of three men and a dog (except that they would not let the dog in.) Must give them some little idea of what it is like for the rest of the football playing fraternity. Playing on Hackney Marshes – 108 pitches side by side – scoring with the ball kicked on from the next pitch – total crowd 109.

Actually I feel a bit sorry for them – it must be difficult trying to give it everything in a huge empty stadium. But then it’s all about money really as usual. Must play so the TV money comes in. Must sort out who gets to play in European competitions (money).

With the restart it reminded me of a question I was asked a while back from my fairly lengthy and relatively undistinguished playing career. The question was what were my most memorable moments. Top I think came a couple of goals scored and top of all has to be this one.

This goes back to the days well before artificial pitches or pitches lowered on huge trays and pitches could get quite heavy. A high cross was sent into the box and I jumped for it with the centre half, neither of us getting a clean header and both tumbling to the floor, me face downwards. The ball rebounded to the edge of the box where it landed at the feet of a mid fielder – one of those types who used to swan around mid field looking good but never getting dirty. He hit what I must admit was a good hard shot that was heading for the top left hand corner. The goalkeeper took off with a dive that might have got his fingertips to the ball.

Me, I was more interested in pushing down on my hands to raise myself out of the mud that I had landed in. As I raised myself to a kneeling position the ball struck my backside and took a 90 degree deviation and flew into the top right hand corner of the net. Getting to my feet, with great aplomb I raised my right arm in gladiatorial salute (Alan Clarke style if you remember him) to acknowledge the fine strike (and of course claim the goal as mine). The goalkeeper and midfield player both met me at the same time to object to me claiming the credit, the goalkeeper with a certain amount of bad language and justification and my mid fielder with faked incredulity (whining little sod, I never liked him anyway). I was explaining the skill involved in the twitching of my right buttock that led to the pinpoint accuracy of the diversion when the referee arrived. It was a definite deflection he ruled and any more language you are off, that to the goalkeeper. This was in the days before yellow cards.

And the crowd went wild – attendance not disclosed but available on request.

As is the norm with referees this one had the last word “You always were a jammy bastard” he stated as we trooped off.

At the end of the season at club awards it was voted 3rd best goal of the season by the players, a rank injustice.

Extract from Great Sporting Moments. Further extracts available on request.