Columnist laces up his fluorescent footy boots for Bluebell Wood

After two weeks of agonising, I’ve decided that it’s finally time to hang up my fluorescent orange footy boots for good.

Time has finally caught up with the wreck that passes for my pathetic body which might have once been a temple. Now it’s more like a burned out wreck of a church hall!

It is time to end the pretence that my aching frame can still operate as it did 40 years ago.

I never had much talent, but at least I could run around giving the impression that I had some use.

Not any more...as my humiliation in the bank holiday game at the New York Stadium proved only too vividly.

I trooped off at the end feeling very embarrassed at my efforts.

I played the first half and the last few minutes of the second in goal for one of two celebrity teams.

To be honest, things got off to a bad start. Within five minutes, former Millers star Danny Schofield had beaten his marker on the left and stroked the ball past me as I advanced to try to narrow the angle. Nothing I could do really.

Then, midway through the half, I anticipated (wrongly as it turned out) that one of the opposing forwards would cut the ball back from the byline into the centre.

He didn’t and made me look a fool as he tucked it in at the near post.

And then to cap a miserable half I miskicked a clearance and the ball fell straight to an onrushing forward who blasted it back into the net.

Oh dear, but we were only 3-2 down at the break and I spent much of the second period freezing on the touchline.

(It was always the plan to replace me with a second keeper in the second half, honest).

In reality, he was even worse than me and it was decided I should return for the last few minutes to preserve a slender lead.

And I responded well by kicking the ball five yards as I tried to clear again, to one of their forwards who slotted it home for a final score of 8-8.

I hardly knew where to put myself in the dressing room afterwards.

The lads were fine with me but I felt really awful knowing I had played like a plonker.

It might only have been a charity match but there is still pride involved.

However, it was a wonderful experience to play at the New York and see the changing rooms in the bowels of the stadium.

And even though I was crestfallen at the end, I reckon organiser Mike Gabbitas felt even worse.

He put so much work into organising the event — for Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and injured boxer Nick Blackwell — and all for scant reward.

He was hoping for a bumper crowd — possibly as many as 1,500. But in the end there were probably fewer than 600.

And hefty costs involved in hiring the ground and the facilities meant the amount finally raised was much less than he originally hoped.

In addition, some celebrities who said they would turn up and play didn’t.

Mike admitted: “I’m very disappointed after all the preparation.

“I really can’t explain why more people didn’t turn up.

“The weather wasn’t that bad and it was a bank holiday.

“I’m just sorry I can’t give as much as I would have liked to the good causes.” 

Don’t beat yourself up Mike. You did a grand job (he’s already raised thousands from a series of other events in the past few years).

As for me, I am thinking of taking up a less strenuous pastime. 

Chess, I thought, perhaps...