I’m holding these old boots in my hands. Nike Tiempos. Leather. White with lime green highlights. Top-of-the-range boots that cost a small fortune back in the day. Battered now, though. They’re starting to flap open at the toe and the inner lining is coming out. Years of grime ingrained into the stitching. I press at the boot with my thumb; the leather is hard and stiff. Not how you want it at all. You want it buttery soft.
You also want your boots to fit perfect. Even a millimetre too big and it would throw your touch right off. So the trick was to buy them half a size too small, even a whole size sometimes, depending on the boot. You wore them in a hot bath for 10 minutes or so and then all you had to do was walk around the house in them for a bit. The whole boot would soften with the heat and then almost remould itself to your foot. It was like they’d been made specially for you, just like the real pros.
Now, the season I wore these, that was class. Voted Players’ Player and won the Managers’ Player award. Scored 16 goals from midfield, played nearly every game. Best season of my life.
I remember this one goal. We were playing top of the league and it was 1-1 in about the…oh I don’t know. Late on, anyway. We broke from a corner and I swear I’ve never felt so quick. I was knackered, too. We’d been chasing the ball all game. But you forget that, don’t you, when you can smell a goal.