Click, clack and down I go again

HONESTLY, I’d make the worst murderer.

If, and that’s a big IF, I was ever going to kill someone, they’d know I was coming before I even got within striking range.

My ankles click when I walk and there is absolutely no way to mute the sound they make.

In short, they’re buggered and nothing will bring them back.

My left ankle creaks more than my right, but both have taken the full brunt of my lack of athletic ability.

I have the agility and balance of a concussed hippo at the best of times and sooner rather than later an accident is bound to happen.

I’ve twisted both ankles more times than I could count. At an estimate I’d say the tally is at 12 times on my left and seven times on my right.

Social mixed indoor netball has been the main culprit of these twists, but there’s also been a few playing cricket and footy over the years.

As I write I’m nursing a nicely swollen right ankle.

This is a freshy, sustained last Tuesday night at — you guessed it — indoor netball. After going up for a rebound I landed awkwardly and felt my ankle bone touch the court floor. That trademark cracking sound rattled through my ears. AGAIN. I’d gone a good 12 months without doing my ankle badly. I’ve had a handful of “tweaks” during that time but none worthy of causing much swelling. This one was nasty. As I dragged myself off the ground my teammates asked if I was OK. I was, but standing in goal defence isn’t great with a bung ankle. So with no bench I asked to switch to goal keeper midquarter. It’s against the rules to do that without coming off the court, but I thought no one would care given it was late in the last quarter of a social game of netball and we were down by 12 goals.

Wrong. Enter one of the opposition male defenders cracking the sads because the umpires let us bend the rules. So to you, opponent, I say: 1) It’s social netball, not the Constellation Cup.

2) We were losing with one hurt player. The game is over.

3) A TWISTED ANKLE REALLY BLOODY HURTS

Now I don’t condone violence of any kind, but if my ankles didn’t crack I’d be coming for you, mate.

Not really ... but you are a moron.