He's got a foot like a traction engine

Welcome to the first of an irregular feature: Match of the Day. (I can't be bothered to come up with anything novel at the moment.)
Yesterday was, for me, the beginning of a new season of top-quality (ahem) football. And what a start. I was almost worried as I got a lift to the 'ground' with my new manager. We picked up a young lad who was training with Charlton. Out of my depth, I thought. Still, back to that later.
Why a new team? Well, the creaking joints and Andy Capp-esque rolling-pin domestic set-up of my former team-mates has diminished the mighty Stonewood to a 5-a-side team. Rest assured, we are just as bad - and just as (un)succesful - as we ever were, only now I have 80% burns on my body thanks to the astroturf. So, I was traipsing off to Roehampton (via Golders Green, obviously) at the crack of a sparrow's fart on a Sunday morning.
And what a debut. In spectacular Sunday league fashion: (i) we arrived later, (ii) we had no ref and (iii) they only had ten men, so we had to lend them a player. Fortunately, we had changing rooms, so I was spared the indignity of changing in a car park.
On the pitch, I didn't disgrace myself. My strike partner may have been playing with Charlton, but apart from his pace (and this was only up against old men, as virtually all Sunday league defenders are; they were once lightning quick like he: now, they are slow but brutal) he was rather a disappointment. I was expecting fireworks - excitement, unbelievable skill, vision and all that jazz. Mais, non. Fair enough, he scored four. But his touch was good, but not great, and his vision was somewhat lacking. Without his pace, he would have been far less succesful. And, as with all players who have (or think they have) a modicum of skill, he (in the language of the playground) was a hogger.
But, I can't complain. Unlike last season - and the season before that - I had players around me willing to run and - get this - tackle. Fuck me, I didn't know other players did that... Anyway, I felt as if it wasn't going to be my day when I dinked the ball over the keeper from 20 yards only to have it rebound off the post. Having had him pull two great saves off my two fine shots in the first half. Added to a defender getting his sizable rump to a beautifully struck first-time volley from eight yards (hell, at least he felt it) and being clean through on goal and being given offside, despite being about five yards behind the defender (no ref, or linesmen, remember), it was all a bit frustrating.
Still, I did what all good Sunday-league strikers do, following an up-and-under towards the opposition keeper, and sure enough, he dropped it. I scored. We won 5-4. It's just a shame it took me 3 hours to get home.
And, dear God, I feel like shit today. I think I've been 12 rounds with Tyson...