One more?

Well, on yesterday's evidence, I still have a season or two left in me. And thank goodness, too, as I haven't had nearly enough of this stupid, stupid game yet. We won, I scored. Scoring, though, is not how I measure myself. I measure myself with the number of things I do well, the number of plaudits from my teamates, the number of times I steal the ball from the opposition, the number of times I pick an opponent up and dump him backwards. Fitness in the second half was severely lacking, but I'm happy with my game: I can still hold my place. Need to get out and do some running, though. The first half felt snappy. The second half, my brain had to make the decision to run, then present a convincing case to my legs, which would then grudgingly take me in the direction I wanted to go in. I need to convince my body that it's a dictatorship, not a democracy.

Feels good to be playing again.

Well, mentally, that is. Physically, it feels like I've been hit by a truck. Then reversed over.

Right, time to start thinking about gainful employment...