The Loneliness Of The Goalkeeper

One thing I do have to confess is that tucked away in Austin's wardrobe is a full England goalkeeping strip to fit him when he's five. It was purchased just before we left London and cost only £5.99. At that price it would have been bad parenting to leave it on the shelf.

This also explains the outfield shirt (4, Gerrard) for when he's thirteen.

But the keeper's strip is special, which is why he also has a matching pair of England goalkeeping gloves. They're Umbro, just like Dad's, and much better than the pair I wore when I first stood between the sticks as an eight year old.

Those were orange wool with lots of black rubber spots. They came from a sports store but looked a heck of a lot like gardening gloves.

It was Christchurch. They probably were.

Given my purchases, it may come as a surprise that I'm actually relaxed about the idea of him choosing another code. Or none at all. That said, I do of course have high hopes that he'll come to share his Dad's passion for football.

He's English, for heaven's sake. And one-quarter Scouse.

As to whether he plays in goal, my feelings are mixed. Part of me would love to see my boy in the number one shirt, but all those years in the job have given me an acute understanding of the harsh realities he would be spared if he chooses the easier path of an outfield role.

This is something I've thought about quite a lot this season. As a keeper, thinking's something you get a lot of time to do. I guess it's also natural to reflect when playing your first season as a parent; even more so being back to the proper version of the game after four years of London five-a-side.

And, though only nine games old, this season has long since highlighted all the pitfalls of goalkeeping.

The game where you're having a blinder then make a mistake with two minutes to go that costs the team a win. The game where your team dominates for 80 minutes, fails to score and then gets caught on the break. The saves that deserve to be match winners but don't rate a mention because they're part of a 6-0 victory. Standing alone in the driving rain.

Who would wish that on their son?

Still, there is a lot to be said for being different: the last line of defence, the only one who can't afford to make mistakes. With that comes the satisfaction of doing the basics well: distribution, crosses and coming off your line.

And then there's the feeling you get when you make the improbable stop.

As Russian great Lev Yashin said: "The joy of seeing Yuri Gagarin flying in space is only superseded by the joy of a good penalty save."

I wouldn't know - I'm naught from two this season.

Why Does It Always Rain On Me?

We may have been the first country to qualify for the next World Cup, but if every winter is like this Austin is not going to learn a heck of a lot about football. At least not that which comes from getting out on the pitch.

For the fourth-straight week rain has sunk the Lane Cove West Wednesday evening training session. And, though only half-way through our 18 game season, this weekend will be the third with a second (Sunday) game to catch up on others postponed due to water-logged pitches.

Whatever happened to the Lucky Country?

And it doesn't get much better on the home front. Sydney's rain never bothered me in the old days when I spent my time in an office. At home with a toddler, it's a very different story. All of sudden there's a bunch of things you can't do; mostly the ones that have the added benefit of exercise.

To make things worse, we now have a little boy with a head cold.

No Thursday morning playgroup for him, no Thursday morning adult interaction for me. Through the noise of rain on our tin roof, this is starting to sound like a case of cabin fever or road trip.

Because surely it can't also be raining in Mittagong. Surely.

Friday Afternoon Football

Every now and then the stars align and free up some time for self-indulgence.

And so it was that, with things under control for the evening's dinner party, the house spic-and-span and Austin overdosed on play time, the two of us settled down at 4.30pm yesterday to watch a DVD on the first ten years of the English Premier League.

One on bean bag with milk. One on couch with Budweiser.

This sort of thing is ideally suited to just after Sunday lunch, but I know those times will come, and that they will be plenty. There's a Sunday at the end of every week and it's not like this is the only football DVD we have.

That said, it's also not a bad place to start.

From 1992 to 2002 the Premiership was graced with some fantastic players. The Owens, Fowlers and Shearers. The Fowlers, Owens and Beckhams. The list really does go on. Towards the end the film also features a young Steven Gerrard, but he has a DVD of his own.

He also has his photo on Austin's wall; his name and the number four on the back of an England shirt tucked away for a birthday to come. I look forward to the day our lad starts to choose his own heroes but, for now, what's wrong with a little encouragement?

Then again, he may have already figured it out all by himself...

Those 21 Days of Silence

That's right, it's been three weeks since this blog was updated. Arianna Huffington would be appalled. Any reaction there would be a compliment.

Two people actually have asked me to explain. It may not be critical mass, but it is an audience. And there is a good reason.

Two, actually.

For a start, Austin is walking. This is both exciting and something that requires careful attention. And then there's Clark Co - the working title for my freelance communications business which now has two clients and several briefs to deliver on. Needless to say there's been no cake baking or Brad Pitt movie marathons.

But there has been a lot going on. One thing you learn when you're at home is that there's a whole world of stuff that only happens if there is someone at home. People coming to check this, people coming to deliver that. Today it's off to the post office to collect a letter, tomorrow it's the car's first service.

How is anyone supposed to watch daytime television?

Despite all this, and the demands of freelancing and watching a toddler, a lot of blogworthy things have happened over the past 21 days. By way of a catch up, these have included:

Football Dramas
Chelsea crashed out of the Champions League in hilarious fashion while Lane Cove West (simply the best) followed up a two-game winning streak with a performance riddled with schoolboy errors. It wasn't noted in the match report, but I played quite well. And, as my mother's been saying since I was nine, it has to get through ten players before it gets to me.

More Fun with Meat
Texas chili, barbequed butterfly cut leg of lamb and Kerrigan rissoles. Alas, not at the same time.

More Bad Customer Service
Six weeks after it was ordered our dining table finally arrived but without the chairs. By the time these turned up (two weeks hence) the table had been returned to fix the poor varnishing. Thank heaven we were given trays for our wedding.

Speaking of which, we also celebrated our third anniversary with a long-awaited return to Cafe Sydney.

Some Parenting Wins
It drove us crazy for a few days but we soon found a solution to his nappy change rock n' roll routine. Give him a Mr Men book and he lies perfectly still. It has to be Mr Men though: he threw the AA Road Atlas of the South Island straight on the floor. He now also responds to requests for him to go back to drinking his bottle. Amazingly, he always knows where it is.

If only I could always say the same for my wine glass.

Bring On April 4

Great news in this morning: Liverpool 5, Aston Villa 0. Even I didn’t expect that. I’ve waited a long time for us to be in the title race come April and, with a round of World Cup qualifiers to be played next week, that’s exactly where we’ll be when Premier League action resumes.

This also presents a challenge. There’s been a massive swing in momentum in the last two weeks. Man Utd's defensive shut-out is ancient history and we’re not just winning we’re pummelling those we come up against.

When you’re in the zone like that what you want is to bring on the next game, not break up the squad for internationals.

It’s the same for both clubs, of course, and I expect that Sir Alex is the more nervous of the two managers. It’s a given that Torres will pick up some sort of injury during his outing for Spain, but with Vidic, Rooney and Scholes all suspended for their game against Villa the last thing Man Utd need is to have one of their lads suffer the same fate.

If only Portugal were playing Azerbaijan rather than Sweden.

So bring on April 4. Liverpool travel to Fulham - a fixture I was at last season and in which Jermaine Pennant (of all people) scored an absolute belter. The Cottage is so small and the home fans so, well, West London, that it’s hardly a daunting place to visit.

Nice pies though, and the crispy duck next to the Putney Walkabout can’t be beaten.

April 4 is also Austin’s first birthday. Kate’s pick is trailing in the cake vote and I don’t fancy her chances of selecting his outfit. He looks great in his Liverpool kit and I’d like to think he wears it with pride. I certainly hope so – he’s already got shirts for when he’s two, five and, er, thirteen.

Postscript:
A special shout-out to Brentford, who are leading League Two and on target for promotion. They have one of the best home grounds in London, and the only one in the country with a pub on all four corners. Come on you Bees!