The Day I Called Running Football “Real Football”

 


🍻 The Day I Called Running Football “Real Football”

Some mistakes you make once and never repeat. Others get replayed at you every week like a bad VAR decision. Mine happened in the beer garden at the King’s Head on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

We’d just finished another lively walking football session — the kind where the passing was sharp, the banter even sharper, and half the squad had nearly worn out their shouts of “three touch!” The 3G pitch had left us sweaty, so the first sip of a cold pint in the pub garden felt like heaven. Everyone was buzzing, retelling goals, near misses, and Bob was already describing one of his “goal of the season” tap-ins.

I was relaxed, chatting away, and then… I dropped the clanger.

“When I was playing real football on Friday…”

The silence hit like a dodgy backpass. Pint glasses froze mid-air. Then came the audible gasp.

Sitting across from me were Emily, Flik, and Millie — our Women’s Vets trio. They were about to head back to the 3G after their drink for another 90 minutes of running football. In perfect unison, they shot back:

“I beg your pardon?”

Bob nearly spat his pint. Tony offered to “call me an ambulance” for my foot-in-mouth injury. Tasmin just gave me the same look she gives when someone argues with the ref. Even the landlord raised an eyebrow as he topped up Emily’s white wine spritzer.

I went redder than a Watford kit. I stammered, tried to backtrack — “Oh, you know what I mean!” — but it was too late. The ribbing began, and it hasn’t stopped since.

The truth is, I did know better. Walking football isn’t “less than.” It’s not a slow cousin of the “real” game. It’s proper football — the passing, the positioning, the thrill of a last-minute winner. It’s just played at a pace that lets everyone take part, and trust me, that doesn’t make it easier. In fact, it’s given me back the game I thought I’d lost after injury.

That day in the pub garden, I learned a lesson: words matter. Call it what it is — walking football, real football — because it deserves the respect. And if you don’t, well… you’ll never hear the end of it from your teammates.

And yes — weeks later, I’m still being reminded about it every single session.

💬 Your Turn

Ever put your foot in it on or off the pitch? What’s the funniest slip of the tongue (or excuse) you’ve heard at football? Drop a comment — let’s hear them!

👉 PS: I wrote a book on debunking Walking Football myths, you can find it here. (affiliate link) 

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