You’ve got to do something in life.

Sport is something that one has to be brought up with. Like lumpy porridge, it becomes an acquired taste. It did not feature much in my upbringing and unlike in Australian education, it is not much part of Dutch schools although I do remember gymnastics being a subject that one was supposed to engage in. At high schools in The Netherlands we had four languages on top of history, geography, mathematics, algebra. We were encouraged to join libraries or if time allowed it, learn to play the sport of chess.

I noticed at schools here in Australia that sport is almost the main subject. Private schools are proud of their swimming pools, extensive football field, hockey and tennis greens. At the main entrances they offer varnished head-boards on which with gold-leaf lettering, names of sport champions both past and present who were educated at that school are proudly exhibited. One does not get any names of those that were champions in mathematics or French!

In my formative years and before settling in Australia I joined a couple of sport clubs in Holland but always ended up with either a bleeding nose or broken glasses, sometimes both. Since those days and after arriving in Australia in 1956 I always ran away from any ball that rolled towards me. Of course, watching outdoor cricket when I was not mature enough (or properly warned and prepared) meant the final nail in the coffin of sport and round objects in general.

However, and this is what is so fascinating in life, there has been a late turn-around. I am now playing soccer. If you look careful at the above picture you can see me on the left without wearing shorts. I was asked to make up for an elderly player struck down with onset of bouts of intestinal hurry and of course, I stepped into the breech.   I played well, and remembered well from all those decades ago that scoring a goal was the main aim of the game. I did score a goal but also passed the ball to the opposition several times. They thought I was just being devious and I did not want to correct that opinion. 

I was asked by the sporting administrator’s secretary why I don’t wear shorts and my answers is always;  If I did, you most likely will call the police or an ambulance. They look down then and don’t know what to say.

I now love playing soccer. It is never too late.