(Post) MBA Blog

I always seem to come off worst during sporting get-togethers, no matter how 'friendly'. So it was last Sunday, once again on Jesus Green full of youthful optimism and energy that a sunny weekend in Cambridge tends to bring. But disaster! Only two minutes into the warm-up period I pulled one of my more important muscles and was reduced to a shadow of my former sporting glory. Thus removed to the goal area (no hands allowed), I had, as Alisdair dryly noted, "fallen on my sword".

Yet, as a Judge MBA, I tend rather towards seeing the positive in everything, as I'm sure you do too. The long periods of solitude gave me a chance to ponder the game and it's players. I was once a philosopher of sorts and this combination produced the following reflection which, while a touch cerebral, I'm sure you'll nonetheless enjoy. Thank you.

There was a young player called York,
The goalie (that's me) he often would stalk,
He'd let out a scream!
But his kicks were obscene,
My his shooting really needed some work.

Erm, they get better...

There was a young player called Ashish (tough to rhyme with),
Who ought to be kept on a leash,
The ball he would hunt!
Though sadly toe-punt,
With a vigour resembling a quiche!

Ok, my last chance...

There was a young player called Mark Enzer,
Who'd tackle like his life-a depends-a,
A space he would spot!
And at pace he would plot!
The ruin of both my leg-ends-a.

Da-daa! You've been a great crowd! More adrenaline-pumped match reports next week!



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