THERE are some challenges in life that just have to be faced – and the Lads versus Dads football match was one of them.

My 18-year-old son Jack and his mates have become cockier as the years have gone by and they thought the idea of a five-a-side game against their elders was funny.

They didn’t think the challenge would be accepted – but they were wrong. I gathered a squad of six blokes, all aged around the 50 mark, with a view to playing a rotation system.

We lined up as follows:

Pete ‘The Cat’: Newspaperman, renowned for feline-like agility and use of an inhaler. In goal, because team-mates felt it would be hard to squeeze the ball past his slightly overweight frame.

Officer Dribble: Policeman called Phil who is a decidedly un-PC PC. Likened to Alf Garnett because has very little hair, wears wire-rimmed specs and is turning into a grumpy old man with a particular aversion to the French and the Scots.

Andy Capped: Grey-haired lawyer with useful legal knowledge of ‘no win, no fee’ injury claims. Selected despite ongoing hip problem.

Dodgy John: Teaches Army recruits and, therefore, barks like a sergeant major. Brought in for his organisational ability and relative fitness but a bit mad.

Little Geoff: Diminutive manager in the bodywork repair trade – cars not humans, unfortunately – but tricky due to extremely low centre of gravity.

Doctor Dave: Lanky and lumbering local GP. Only made the line-up because of the likelihood that his medical knowledge would be required.

In terms of knee operations alone, we were 6-0 ahead before the game even started. And with a collective age of 306, there was no doubt we were the underdogs.

But in one of those pre-match huddles, we told ourselves that what we lacked in speed and stamina, we’d make up for in guile, experience and intimidation.

Nevertheless, things didn’t start well. Despite bulky resistance from Pete “The Cat”, early defensive lapses meant we were 5-0 down after only ten minutes.

With a full 45 minutes still left on the clock, some of the outfield players were knackered, while Pete ‘The Cat’ was wheezing so badly he’d already had three puffs behind the goal.

But the older generation should never, ever be underestimated. The Dunkirk spirit kicked in.

“DISCIPLINE! DISCIPLINE!”

Dodgy John kept shouting, in a General Montgomery kind of way, as the fifth goal went in. His orders sparked fire in our bellies as we faced the battlefield.

Out of the blue, Officer Dribble went on a mazy dribble and sneaked a goal back. There were high-fives all around – apart from Little Geoff, obviously.

A minute or two later, Officer Dribble scored another, then a hat-trick, before Andy Capped surprised everyone by making it 5-4.

The opposition claimed his goal was inside the box, but we brushed the protests aside. Andy Capped’s hip had popped out of its joint so the extra inch he’d gained in stretching for the ball was completely unintentional.

Funnily enough, every decision seemed to go our way. Whenever the young ones kicked the ball off the ground, we implemented the “over head height” rule, legitimately pointing to Little Geoff whenever it was challenged.

Our Jack never stopped complaining about the decisions and, at one point, he even called us “a bunch of cheats”. His attitude rightly earned him the Moan of the Match Award.

With ten minutes to go, we were leading 10-9 but we simply ran out of gas.

Pete ‘The Cat’ was giddy from overuse of his inhaler; Officer Dribble was still dribbling, but only from his mouth; Andy Capped’s hip had popped once too often; Dodgy John couldn’t speak, let alone shout; Little Geoff’s centre of gravity was even lower because he was lying prostrate; and Doctor Dave was busy practising his resuscitation techniques.

The records will show that we lost 12-9 – but we all know who were the moral victors.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

Ta meeting of South Durham U3A, chairman Eileen Miller remembered the time her friend Vivienne Waugh was teaching at a primary school.

Vivienne had gathered the children round for a sing-song and she was playing the guitar.

She couldn’t help noticing that one little boy had a runny nose but she was delighted when she saw him take a tissue out of his pocket.

She wasn’t so delighted when she overheard him say “I can’t stand this any longer”’ before stuffing the tissue in his ears.

ISABEL MacFall was an invigilator during the days of the 11-plus and one particular exam involved naming opposites.

For example, “High is to l—-“ would have required the children to write “low” in the blank space.

It didn’t prove to be that straightforward.

One of the questions was “False is to t——”. The answer should, of course, have been “truth” but one little boy wrote “teeth”.

And for “T— is to bottom” another child wrote “trousers”.