When Harry met Sally...on the touchline.

By Bad Dad on Apr 18, 08 08:25 PM

I was in charge of Alex's football team for a top of the table clash in midweek.

Both sides had played the same amount of games and were on the same points so in a flash of Brian Clough-like brilliance I printed off the league table.

I didn't give a team talk - I just handed out the sheets and asked the boys what they wanted from the next 70 minutes.

We took the lead but were pegged back just before half time, but I stayed calm and retained the kind of composure that Old Big 'Ead would have been proud of.

The opposition manager was furious at the break and his side came out kicking and biting after the interval to take a 2-1 lead.

As the ball hit the net the rival manager, pacing the touchline, screamed "yes, yes, yes, yes, oh yes" like a scene from When Harry Met Sally.

It was at that moment that the butterflies in my stomach vanished and I regained my grip on reality.

My boys had played well but lost 3-1 in the end, but I was proud of them...that's what sport is about and not the personal glory hunting of managers who try to continue their careers through their sides.

It's only a game.