Non-Fiction: The life of footballdare.

footballdare · 01-23-2011, 05:21 PM

Hi, this is a story, some of it is true, but some of it isn't, I definitely don't have enough interesting stories to make a fully non-fiction storiy, so I'll mix and match, if anyone would like to know which bits are true, then PM me, and I'd be happy to let you know. I'll start the story off in 2002, when I was about 10, her goes. I'll do the stories as though it was recent, but occasionly flicking forward to looking back at it. (If you catch my drift). This story is a collaboration between 2 people, so there could well be a bit of a difference in grammar/story as it goes on too.

This bit of the story is completely true, apart from some minor details that I've forgotten.
22/7/2002, Dublin, Eire

It was 4 days before my tenth birthday, and I was over at my friend, Alex's house. It was about a 2 or 3 minute walk from my own small place where I lived with my mother and father, and I used to walk over there pretty much everyday in the holidays. That day I'd arrived at his house at about 8 o'clock-ish in the morning, having woken up early. After going in and saying hello to his family, we decided to go to the park, and meet with our friends, Jess, Blathnaid, and Greg, who were all either 9 or 10, with Alex's brother, Jordan who was 7. We were all fairly sporty, as most 10 year olds tend to be, but our favourite sports varied. I'd always been a football boy myself, and had walls plastered with players from some of the local Irish premier teams, as well as the big names of world wide football, and some of my favorite players from back home, in England. Alex and Jordan prefered the GAA sports, hurling and Gaelic football, and were more at home in Croke Park than Wembley, but also played a lot of football too. The two girls were both fairly good gymnasts, and were always cartwheeling everywhere rather than walking. Greg was a rugby union fan, and was always telling us amazing but pointless facts about Irish rugby.
This meant that we never really stuck to one kind of game on our trips to the park but played a variety. After starting off by playing splitting into two teams and playing something akin to gaelic football, we saw some other children coming towards us, all wearing what appeared to be Manchester United kits, and holding what looked like a very expensive football.

The tallest of the group, a slightly tubby spanish looking boy, wearing a shirt with 'Cantona' printed on the back approached me and told me in an american accent that they were on 'vacation' and wanted to play us at 5-a-side 'soccer'. We agreed to this and decided to let Jordan, the youngest of our group, be the referee, so both sides had 5 player. We decided that the first to twenty goals would be the winner of the (imaginary) cup.
We lined up our team with Jess in goal, and the rest of us running around like maniacs outfield. As we were about to start the game, the one who was wearing the cantona shirt, who told me his name was actually Eric shouted 'WAIT', and ran over to me and said that he wanted to add in some new rules, and listed some off to me, as though he had said them hundreds of times before.

If a player scores an own goal, they must kiss the goalkeeper
If a player commits a foul, then they must take off one item of clothing. Clothing can be won back if you are fouled
If a goal is scored that the keeper could have saved, then the keeper must rub themselves in the muddy puddles behind the goals
If somone kicks the ball over the hedge, they must get it with there shorts and boxers/knickers around their thighs.
and lastly, the losing team must do what the winning team want for the whole day

Because the playing fields were empty, and we were confident of winning we agreed to this, even though we all knew that the stakes were high. The first few minutes went fairly well, we went 3-0 up, but there were no fouls (probably due to having a six year old referee), and their keeper was at no blame for any of the goals. They pulled a couple back,we scored a couple, there was no real incident of note until the score was a 8-4 to Eire. I had the ball and was having a run, when I was tackled by Eric, facing his own goal. The ball hit his foot, span out of control, and ended off flying in the top corner of the 3 foot high goals. 9-4 to us. As part of his rules he had to kiss the goalie, an attractive girl who was maybe 2 or 3 years older than us. Anyway, after a bit of moaning, he stayed true to his word, walked over to the goalie, and gave her a fairly long kiss, no problem, nine four to us. The next real incedent came at about 13 all.

Greg, the rugby fan, had already lost his shirt from getting bored and rugby tackling somone, and did the same thing again, and a very short black boy with an afro. This meant that as well as his shirt, he had to play without his shorts, and ended up playing in just his boxers (none of us were wearing shoes or socks anyway). From the free kick that the foul led to, one of the americans smashed the ball, hitting Jess in the side of the head, and bouncing into the back of the net. Because of rule number three, she had to go and roll in the muddy puddle in behind the goal, she did this by taking a step away from the goal, and half- cartwheeling, half-falling straight into the mud, and rolling around in it in a mass of ginger hair and flying mud. When seh cam out of it she was absolutely covered, the mud was stuck all over her bare legs, pink shirt, and long red hair. Her mother would not be happy with all that washing.

Nothing else really happened then until the score was stuck at 14-15 to the USA, then the proverbial really hit the fan. The small afroed kid was making a run down the wing, when he was bought down by Greg, who was already down to his boxers. The six year old referee deemed this was a foul, and Greg must therefore lose the boxers. The park was quite away from anywhere, and was deserted until night time when the local scagheads would come out and shoot up, and Greg new this, but that was the least of his concerns. 10 is the kind of age when you are half attracted to girls, but still have that 'boys rule, girls drool' mentality, and clearly didn't want to get naked infront of any of them. But he also realised that rules are rules, and slowly lowered his bright green boxers, allowing a small hard penis to pop out. This was the first time the 2 Irish girls had seen a willy like this, and struggled to focus on the match, instead watching it wobble about as Greg ran back to where he should be for the yank's free kick. as the free kick came in high I got myself underneath it, leant back a bit, and smashed it. Straight over the hedge. Which meant I had to get it with my boxers around my knees, with no shirt on (I'd lost that earlier). I wasn't overly concerned about the girls seeing it, I thought it would be a treat for them to see two in a day, (especially with mine being approxiamtely 48 foot long

). What I was concerned about was what was over the hedge, the tennis courts, which are usually very busy. But a deals a deal, so I pulled my trousers and pants down, and ran to the gap in the hedge, looked about, and realised that the Irish rain had scared most of the players off, walked in and grabbed the ball, turned around, and heard what sounded like a cough just behind me. To this day I don't know wether somone had seen me or I had just imagined it, but I took off quicker than a 747, and kicked the ball back into play, and started again.

The game went to 18-17 to Ireland when I scored an absolutely horrible own goal. By this point I'd lost my boxers, as had two of the american boys, and our Goalie, Blathnaid, who had swapped places with Jess minutes before was topless. Because of the own goal I had to kiss here, and I did, very quickly, but it wasn't deemed enough by american eric, so I had to do it again, this time properly, and I did, tongues and all, and quite enjoyed it too, that was the first proper kiss I'd ever had.

Anyway, eventually we won the game 20-18, and the americans were at our mercy for the rest of the day, we decided to make them all strip naked, and jump into the muddy puddle, until they were plastered in mud, if they stood up and we didn't deem them muddy enough, then we called one of the girls on their team to rub some more mud on them properly. There goalie, the slightly older looking girl, had slight bumps on her chest, and looked really embarassed, so I made her come over to me and decided it was my personal job to rub the mud into her chest, and a vey good job I did as well. After this we lined them up for an inspection, and having decided they were muddy enough, let them free. After they went we were absolutely knackered, and just sat round the centre circle, talking and laughing.
It was a great day, I'd had my first proper kiss (and with Blathnaid, the best looking girl in the whole of Dublin as far as I was concerned), seen my first fully naked girl, and had a good feel of some boobs. As we sat in the centre circle chatting, I revealed that I'd heard of a new game, that we should play some time, called Truth Or Dare.
MORE TO COME...

Sorry about the lack of action in this part, it happened nearly 10 years ago so my memory's fairly hazey, and that was pretty much all that happened anyway. It gets a lot more interesting at about the 13 or 14 year mark.
I'll have a pop at the next bit same kind of time tomorow.

01-23-2011, 05:21 PM	#1
footballdare getDare Sweetheart Join Date: Oct 2010 Location: Belfast Posts: 340 Blog Entries: 7	The life of footballdare. Hi, this is a story, some of it is true, but some of it isn't, I definitely don't have enough interesting stories to make a fully non-fiction storiy, so I'll mix and match, if anyone would like to know which bits are true, then PM me, and I'd be happy to let you know. I'll start the story off in 2002, when I was about 10, her goes. I'll do the stories as though it was recent, but occasionly flicking forward to looking back at it. (If you catch my drift). This story is a collaboration between 2 people, so there could well be a bit of a difference in grammar/story as it goes on too. This bit of the story is completely true, apart from some minor details that I've forgotten. 22/7/2002, Dublin, Eire It was 4 days before my tenth birthday, and I was over at my friend, Alex's house. It was about a 2 or 3 minute walk from my own small place where I lived with my mother and father, and I used to walk over there pretty much everyday in the holidays. That day I'd arrived at his house at about 8 o'clock-ish in the morning, having woken up early. After going in and saying hello to his family, we decided to go to the park, and meet with our friends, Jess, Blathnaid, and Greg, who were all either 9 or 10, with Alex's brother, Jordan who was 7. We were all fairly sporty, as most 10 year olds tend to be, but our favourite sports varied. I'd always been a football boy myself, and had walls plastered with players from some of the local Irish premier teams, as well as the big names of world wide football, and some of my favorite players from back home, in England. Alex and Jordan prefered the GAA sports, hurling and Gaelic football, and were more at home in Croke Park than Wembley, but also played a lot of football too. The two girls were both fairly good gymnasts, and were always cartwheeling everywhere rather than walking. Greg was a rugby union fan, and was always telling us amazing but pointless facts about Irish rugby. This meant that we never really stuck to one kind of game on our trips to the park but played a variety. After starting off by playing splitting into two teams and playing something akin to gaelic football, we saw some other children coming towards us, all wearing what appeared to be Manchester United kits, and holding what looked like a very expensive football. The tallest of the group, a slightly tubby spanish looking boy, wearing a shirt with 'Cantona' printed on the back approached me and told me in an american accent that they were on 'vacation' and wanted to play us at 5-a-side 'soccer'. We agreed to this and decided to let Jordan, the youngest of our group, be the referee, so both sides had 5 player. We decided that the first to twenty goals would be the winner of the (imaginary) cup. We lined up our team with Jess in goal, and the rest of us running around like maniacs outfield. As we were about to start the game, the one who was wearing the cantona shirt, who told me his name was actually Eric shouted 'WAIT', and ran over to me and said that he wanted to add in some new rules, and listed some off to me, as though he had said them hundreds of times before. If a player scores an own goal, they must kiss the goalkeeper If a player commits a foul, then they must take off one item of clothing. Clothing can be won back if you are fouled If a goal is scored that the keeper could have saved, then the keeper must rub themselves in the muddy puddles behind the goals If somone kicks the ball over the hedge, they must get it with there shorts and boxers/knickers around their thighs. and lastly, the losing team must do what the winning team want for the whole day Because the playing fields were empty, and we were confident of winning we agreed to this, even though we all knew that the stakes were high. The first few minutes went fairly well, we went 3-0 up, but there were no fouls (probably due to having a six year old referee), and their keeper was at no blame for any of the goals. They pulled a couple back,we scored a couple, there was no real incident of note until the score was a 8-4 to Eire. I had the ball and was having a run, when I was tackled by Eric, facing his own goal. The ball hit his foot, span out of control, and ended off flying in the top corner of the 3 foot high goals. 9-4 to us. As part of his rules he had to kiss the goalie, an attractive girl who was maybe 2 or 3 years older than us. Anyway, after a bit of moaning, he stayed true to his word, walked over to the goalie, and gave her a fairly long kiss, no problem, nine four to us. The next real incedent came at about 13 all. Greg, the rugby fan, had already lost his shirt from getting bored and rugby tackling somone, and did the same thing again, and a very short black boy with an afro. This meant that as well as his shirt, he had to play without his shorts, and ended up playing in just his boxers (none of us were wearing shoes or socks anyway). From the free kick that the foul led to, one of the americans smashed the ball, hitting Jess in the side of the head, and bouncing into the back of the net. Because of rule number three, she had to go and roll in the muddy puddle in behind the goal, she did this by taking a step away from the goal, and half- cartwheeling, half-falling straight into the mud, and rolling around in it in a mass of ginger hair and flying mud. When seh cam out of it she was absolutely covered, the mud was stuck all over her bare legs, pink shirt, and long red hair. Her mother would not be happy with all that washing. Nothing else really happened then until the score was stuck at 14-15 to the USA, then the proverbial really hit the fan. The small afroed kid was making a run down the wing, when he was bought down by Greg, who was already down to his boxers. The six year old referee deemed this was a foul, and Greg must therefore lose the boxers. The park was quite away from anywhere, and was deserted until night time when the local scagheads would come out and shoot up, and Greg new this, but that was the least of his concerns. 10 is the kind of age when you are half attracted to girls, but still have that 'boys rule, girls drool' mentality, and clearly didn't want to get naked infront of any of them. But he also realised that rules are rules, and slowly lowered his bright green boxers, allowing a small hard penis to pop out. This was the first time the 2 Irish girls had seen a willy like this, and struggled to focus on the match, instead watching it wobble about as Greg ran back to where he should be for the yank's free kick. as the free kick came in high I got myself underneath it, leant back a bit, and smashed it. Straight over the hedge. Which meant I had to get it with my boxers around my knees, with no shirt on (I'd lost that earlier). I wasn't overly concerned about the girls seeing it, I thought it would be a treat for them to see two in a day, (especially with mine being approxiamtely 48 foot long ). What I was concerned about was what was over the hedge, the tennis courts, which are usually very busy. But a deals a deal, so I pulled my trousers and pants down, and ran to the gap in the hedge, looked about, and realised that the Irish rain had scared most of the players off, walked in and grabbed the ball, turned around, and heard what sounded like a cough just behind me. To this day I don't know wether somone had seen me or I had just imagined it, but I took off quicker than a 747, and kicked the ball back into play, and started again. The game went to 18-17 to Ireland when I scored an absolutely horrible own goal. By this point I'd lost my boxers, as had two of the american boys, and our Goalie, Blathnaid, who had swapped places with Jess minutes before was topless. Because of the own goal I had to kiss here, and I did, very quickly, but it wasn't deemed enough by american eric, so I had to do it again, this time properly, and I did, tongues and all, and quite enjoyed it too, that was the first proper kiss I'd ever had. Anyway, eventually we won the game 20-18, and the americans were at our mercy for the rest of the day, we decided to make them all strip naked, and jump into the muddy puddle, until they were plastered in mud, if they stood up and we didn't deem them muddy enough, then we called one of the girls on their team to rub some more mud on them properly. There goalie, the slightly older looking girl, had slight bumps on her chest, and looked really embarassed, so I made her come over to me and decided it was my personal job to rub the mud into her chest, and a vey good job I did as well. After this we lined them up for an inspection, and having decided they were muddy enough, let them free. After they went we were absolutely knackered, and just sat round the centre circle, talking and laughing. It was a great day, I'd had my first proper kiss (and with Blathnaid, the best looking girl in the whole of Dublin as far as I was concerned), seen my first fully naked girl, and had a good feel of some boobs. As we sat in the centre circle chatting, I revealed that I'd heard of a new game, that we should play some time, called Truth Or Dare. MORE TO COME... Sorry about the lack of action in this part, it happened nearly 10 years ago so my memory's fairly hazey, and that was pretty much all that happened anyway. It gets a lot more interesting at about the 13 or 14 year mark. I'll have a pop at the next bit same kind of time tomorow. __________________ M/Northern Ireland Limits: Public, Poo Is fear ciúin mé Éirinn go Brách Tumblr: http://footballdare.tumblr.com/ Last edited by footballdare; 01-23-2011 at 06:24 PM.