So...I was enjoying a game of 5-aside football after a tough day at the office yesterday evening, well it would have been 5-aside if Phil the phtographer hadn't left us in the lurch in favour of his wife's birthday, leaving me to organise everything and only ending up with 9 players! Let me tell you, 5 against 4 on half a pitch at the Flash Leisure Centre's astro turf isn't easy! Blaggy, the guy's so insensitive!

Anyway the merry band that decided to show up enjoyed a thorughly high tempo and exhasting game none the less. Yours truly, who was just yesterday described as a 94 World Cup esque Maradonna by office colleagues (low centre of gravity, but without the drugs I hasten to add) was in the thick of the action, initiating attacks and breaking down opposition plays.

There is a lovely gentleman by the name of Alun Williams, who regularly plays football with us. Mr Williams - a very fit man for his age (early 50's I believe) is a very competitive footballer and has a lot of apetite and passion for the beautiful game - a characteristic I like to think is shared with me.

Such a moment to display all that apetite and passion arose last night, when the ball broke free, pitting me and Mr Williams in a foot race to the ball. If I won I was clear on goal and if he won my glory would be scuppered.
Now, over the last few weeks I have been in training in preperation for playing reserve team football this coming season and believe I may have even gained a yard of pace, because Mr Williams was closer to the ball than me but as we both approached it I seemed to have the edge.

At the vital moment I prodded the ball forward, and was in the clear, however, unable to shift his momentum in time, the committed Mr Williams clattered into me and we both fell, crashing to the floor. It was an ugly challenge...totally unavoidable but in any match across the globe a red card would also have been unavoidable.

Amazingly I picked myself off the turf covered head to toe in sand, yet with a mere grze to my elbow. On the other hand, Mr Williams was writing around the floor in agony, with blood emitting from several wounds. He had to be helped from the pitch and was unable to carry on the game. After a rest it was clear he would not be coming back and had to suffer the indignity of riding his bike home, up a large hill!

I have since found out this morning that he's suffered a hairline fracture to his ankle, while I feel fine after being sycthed down.

Ah well, he's a paramedic, so at least he should be able to take care of himself!!!

Ask any male between the age of 15-25 and most will tell you that they are, or were at some point in those 10 years, obsessed with football manager games.

To be honest, with me, I was a late bloomer, I didn't get into the cyber side of football management until I was in my university years, I was about 19. But I quickly became addicted. Having a PC and a lot of spare time between staying up late, just because I could, and choosing not to go to my lectures, I quickly became obsessed with plotting European domination with my beloved Manchester United.

Of course, playing with one of the top teams and winning the treble year in year out becomes really dull after a while, so i decided it was time to challenge myself.

One of my greatest and most bittersweet achievements came with Newcastle United. Having struggled to mid table mediocrity in my first season, finishing 8th, I at least qualified for the Euro Vase.

The board didn't up my transfer budget for the following season too much, but I got Anthony vanden Borre on a free, who turns out to be one hell of a player and also picked up Columbian Freddie Guarin, another hot prospect, for a snippet as well.

As the season's progressed, I got a little shrewder in the transfer market, gained the respect of my players, earned a reputation as a tough opponent, drawing praise from Sir Alex Ferguson and Arsene Wenger no less and eventually, the team began to reap the rewards.

After finishing higher up the league in my second season, I won the FA Cup in my third season. Then came the mighty fourth season, which brought with it the break-up of the dominance of the "Big 4" and an untold era of riches for the Toon Army.

In my fourth season, adding quality signings such as Shaun Wright-Phillips, Fernando Torres, Mark Gonzales, Phillip Lahm, Marko Babic, Jermain Defoe, Tim Howard, amongst others to my squad meant I captured an unprecedented trebble. The board were loving me, the fans wanted to give me a contract for life, and I felt like the Messiah, turninging everything I touched into gold.

I entered into my fourth season with much optimism, knowing I was bringing the good times to the people of Newcastle, who had been waiting far too long for a team they could be proud of. I had played my part in breathing life into the stagnating pond that St James' Park had become.

As if there were no ends to my mercurial managerial prowess, I managed to attract Kaka to the club. At the time of coming to me he was worth £45m but came to Newcastle on a free...the fans were pinching themselves, who is this Matthew Jones, they asked!

The season started promisingly, I made a good start to the defence of my crown, and won yet more silverware at Christmas with the capture of the World Club Championship.

On New Year's Day, I opened my e-mail's to discover a headline which read: "Newcastle sack manager Jones". To say I was dumbfounded and catastophically devastated would be an understatement.
How could they do this to me? I gave that club the best four years of my life! They cited my poor relationship with my players as a reason to sack me!
I'd just delivered the club it's most successful season ever and they showed me the door. I haven't been able to turn my hand to another club since.

Now, I know they see that football isn't a matter of life and death, but don't let anyone tell you it's only real managers who know what it's like to deal with the emotions of running a football club, I felt like the blow had taken years off my life, I'd sweated, bled and cried white and black and treated the club like it was my family and showing me the door after a trophy laden spree is how they repay me.
Sometime football breaks your heart, and there's still a few pieces of mine trying to piece themselves back together.