I remember when the 1978 World Cup was taking place and a group of lads decided to host their own version of it at our local park.
There were going to be 16 teams with 2 people on each, and the matches would be 10 minutes a half. It was all done with much enthusiasm including posters (lettering drawn with stencils and felt tip pens and some of the worst proportioned footballers you've ever seen) and most of the moms chipping in with bottles of watered down, warm orange for after the matches.
Anyway, I had drawn Brazil as my team and was pretty impressed with my luck, going as far as getting my mom to buy me a yellow T-Shirt from Woolworths.
So, the day arrived and I was ridiculously excited. Polished up my Gola boots and made my way to the park.
Unfortunately, a couple of the players decided to pull a McGrath and I was informed (about 10 minutes before my match was starting) that my team mate had gone on holiday to Blackpool for a week (**** you Adam Willetts!) so I would be facing West Germany alone.
West Germany were a few years older than me (I was 7 at the time) and considerably bigger, but despite all that going against me I managed to keep the score down to 13-0.
But hey, at least I lost to the eventual winners (one half of West Germany ended up in prison years later) and I got my warm orange drink after the match.
Jumpers for goalposts indeed.