A soccer career was never part of the long-term plans, but according to some (possibly deluded!) souls in my company, it's something that should now be thrown into the mix. "Why?", you might ask...

It all started when I heard about the annual Carl Bro (my company's) soccer competition, which was in Dublin this year. It sounded like a great way to visit Ireland and get to know other people from work, both from the Glasgow office and from other offices throughout the UK, Ireland, Sweden and Denmark. I also thought I could pick up some of the soccer skills developed in the highly competitive arena at church youth group!

I went along to one of the practice games, and proceeded to watch most of the game from the sideline, thinking arrogantly to myself that I could do better than half the guys on the field. When I finally did get my chance, with 15 minutes to go, I was an embarrassment to myself and to my country (who'd done so admirably in the World Cup). What looked so easy from the sideline, I made to look quite tricky. At that point, my Dublin experience seemed destined to be as a travelling supporter, rather than a player.
That was until I was approached by the captain to ask if I wanted to play in goals. The previous goalie had to pull out because of a wedding, and I was undoubtably the most useless player on the park. I agreed to give it a go.

In the 1.5 practice games, I let through 8 goals (two of them were particularly embarrassing). Not an impressive record... However, my place in the side was assured when our other goalie let through 6 goals in one half! My position had been confirmed by default.

Many of our touring party of about 30 soon got into the more 'social' aspects of the tour before even boarding the plane. Our Glasgow players and supporters would most often be found at the bar, and certainly lived up to their reputation as the biggest drinkers going around (although there was quite a bit of competition for the title).

After getting to know the 'opposition' at one of the old, traditional pubs in Dublin on the Friday night, the soccer began the following morning with a game against the favourites for the title from Leeds. We surprised ourselves at our competitiveness, and were narrowly beaten 1-0 from a goal that resulted from an unfortunate defensive error.

We then played the hosts from Ireland, who had a previous 'player of the tournament' in their ranks. Our first half was horrendous (maybe we were distracted by having to play in skins), and it was only a few fortuitous saves that kept the score at 0-0. The second half was an improvement, although the deadlock was broken from a corner that sailed straight over my outstretched arm and into the top back corner of the net untouched! Apparently this 'player' knew we had an Aussie in goals who didn't have much of a clue... To our delight however, we managed a return goal with 5 minutes left, and the scores finished at 1-1.

Our final group game was against a second-string Swedish team, who we knew we had to beat convincingly if we had any chance of going through. With the score 10-0 at half time, we knew we'd given ourselves a chance (I even came inside the opposition's box for the corners), but even the 12-0 victory wasn't enough, and we were content to play off in the 'losers' shield.

Tired legs and ill-disciplined passing let us down against Denmark, and we lost 2-0 late on Saturday evening (most of the guys were probably hoping to already be at the pub - in fact, some of them had already gone, and had to come back for the game). A free buffet meal and open bar that night meant that many of our team were rather out-of-sorts for our final game against Ireland (again) the next day.

We were struggling to field a team, as were our Irish counterparts, so we agreed on a gentlemanly penalty shoot-out. Since I was one of the few hangover-less people in our side, the guys had confidence in 'The Cat', which I had affectionately become known. We were down 1-2 early on in the shoot-out, but the decisive moment came when I got my revenge on the 'player' and saved his left-footed shot to my right. Maybe he would have had more success from the corner spot... One other confident save, and we managed to sneak through 4-3.

It was a thoroughly enjoyable tournament, and apart from the soccer, I particularly relished the chance to meet people from throughout Europe. It's also amazing what sport can do for gaining respect amongst my (particularly male) colleagues from the office.

So... I have been asked to contact 'football' clubs in Glasgow having let through a more respectable 4 goals in 4 games. A few moments of consideration later, and I couldn't bring myself to do it. What could be worse than choosing to stand outside in a freezing Scottish winter, with glory or shame held on such a knife edge. I'd prefer to be bashed up on a rugby field!

Having said that, I just played my first rugby game (at fullback, surprisingly enough) and we had our only victory of the season so far, 8-0. I'm very stiff and sore at the moment. Nevertheless, it was the right decision... The Cat won't be let out of the bag again til next year.