On Sunday, I took to the field for the first time in over two years to play in a so entitled ‘friendly’ footballing fixture. In spite of the topsy-turvy weather conditions, the match was on cue to meet its 2 o’clock kick off time.

The team I was playing for, Newtown Athletic, a side embroiled in the depths of one of many Southampton weekend leagues would not win any awards for its organisational pedigree.

After my recent absence from the cauldron that is eleven a-side football, I’ve been training with Newtown for a number of weeks and it was good to be able to have a short, sharp run-out. But there were a few teething problems, as what was always going to be the case.

Typically, most of the players involved assumed we would be playing on grass, but the club’s organiser forgot to tell us it was on Astroturf. As a result, on a newly refurbished and slippery surface most players (predominantly from our side of the water) were significantly under prepared, including myself.

The match itself reminded me if I hadn’t forgotten after a summer of enjoying the fine wines of cricket, why does football have to be so volatile? By using the word I mean the constant swearing, challenges with the intent to hurt and gamesmanship of the highest order. However, even among the jaws of a friendly encounter this acted as a platform for the structure of the match.

But with all the obscenities mentioned, they all conform to passion and the will to win from participants whom are playing with their friends and colleagues. This was especially evident following the final whistle whereby there seemed to be an atmosphere echoing the title of the match.

In a way though there’s nothing that can beat some of the moments you witness on a rainy Sunday afternoon playing ‘the beautiful game’.

For instance, a substitute employed as a linesman for the majority of the game, failing to recognise which way to flag for each side; the astoundingly obvious bias in a referee associated with one side and the ‘laddish’ behaviour which so often fails to reprimand itself. It could only be football, couldn’t it?