A Leader of ‘Men’
When I was just a little boy, I was named captain of my school ‘house’. All the kids in the school were divided into four houses; Clitheroe, Hilda, Postgate and Vincent. Once you reached 4th year (in old money) the best boy and girl, or most gullible, were named ‘House Captains’. I was somewhat surprised to be named captain of Clitheroe, but then realised it was a statistical certainty, due to being the only likely candidate. The other boy was covered in Weetabix and wore an eye patch.
For the first three-quarters of the year, this was a pointless title. We were told that we could win the House Championship, by taking the largest amount of housepoints per house across the whole school. But housepoints were awarded willy-nilly by teachers depending on their mental state/severity of hangover. Winning would be a completely random affair.
But then, out of the blue, came the house football championship. It was a 5-a-side tournament involving the best, most talented boys in the school in house-sponsored battle. This was bad. In my year, there was me and the Weetabix boy. This was very bad.
Fortunately, we could look in the lower years for support. In the year below was a lad who played footy with me outside school. Though slightly built (but not any more) he was amazing in the air, and strong for his size. Sadly this was 5-a-side, so his aerial prowess was useless. He would have to do. In the same year was a lad known by the hilarious nickname ‘Sad Sack’, after the slow witted, slightly plump Raggy Dolls character. He was slow witted and slightly plump. He would have to do.
We found another Weetabix boy in the same year, which gave us a 5. We needed a sub though, and went to second year. These kids had just learnt to tie their shoelaces and couldn’t recite the alphabet. We asked one of them, who rejected us because we were nerds and he didn’t want to be associated with us. We told him could probably kick his older brother, so he agreed. Our ‘team’ was ready.
A shock awaited us on the day. Well, two shocks. Vincent’s team incorporated 5 of the school football team, by some random administrative fluke 4 years previous. Hilda and Postgate split the remaining 6 between them. We were never going to win this.
The other shock was the ‘kits’ we were forced to wear. Vincent, the blue house, got to wear the school football kit. Postgate, in green, got to wear the goalie tops. The red house, Hilda wore their white standard PE kits. Clitheroe was yellow. As was the netball team. By the time of kickoff, we looked for all the world like an transvestite retard netball squad.
Somehow, we finished second. Vincent couldn’t score to save their lives, trying to run the ball in and conceding stupid goals by pushing forward constantly. Postgate beat us, but we beat Vincent to give us 2 points (2 points for a win) and a draw with Hilda gave us a third. I have never been happier. The boy from second year was awesome. Unlike us he could actually carry and pass the ball and we managed to finish a couple of chances presented to us by him.
We missed out on the trophy, but managed to secure second place in the dinner queue for the rest of the week. Which meant having a hot lunch and not having to have the salad by default, and that was prize enough.
Later in the year, Clitheroe randomly won the house championship. By this time I considered myself the best captain in the school, having led a team of young children with no obvious ability, one good eye and a Weetabix disability to second place in the football, and then winning the house championship to top it off. What a self-deluding idiot I clearly was.
