The was a vibrant game that my best friend from the Uk and I used to play, along with his little brother, that would frequently end in something breaking. Normally, it involved a small Football (soccer) and his hallway, much to his mother and father's displeasure. We called it Master Blaster. Much as to the name suggests, this game involved lashing the ball down the hallway and attempting to score it passed whomever was in goal. This of course had complete disregard for anything that happened to be in the hallway at the time.
Now the trouble with this game was inevitability of something breaking shortly after the game was started - parts of us, or parts of the house. Some 25 years later, that inevitability seems to have come back to haunt me.
In my youthful exuberance last night I was playing a not-to-dissimilar game with my black lab, Maggy. I was trying to school her on the finer points of Football. Although she didn't seem to be catching on as quickly as I would have liked, she did indeed perfect the art of the sliding tackle. Whilst trying to outsmart her (a foolish attempt with any dog who is that focused on a ball) i proceeded to kick the ball under our solid, oak dining room chairs. Whilst trying to demonstrate an exquisite Cryuff turn the chair got in the way of my fast traveling right foot, which sent me crashing to the ground like a foreigner playing for Manchester United. Whilst Maggy shamelessly took advantage of my predicament and ran away in delight at having won the ball back, I writhed around on the ground in pain.
This morning I awoke to quite a painful foot and a distinct hobble. I think running will be out for a couple of weeks and we shall see how biking goes. I suspect I will simply be secluded to the chlorine jungle for the next 14 days. Thank you Master Blaster!
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