I MAY be a sportaholic but even I have my limits. (From Warrington Guardian)

I MAY be a sportaholic but even I have my limits.

With Dave Lawrenson

I realise that there are more important things in life than kicking a ball around a field but the same can not be said for everyone.

I have met several people who live, breathe and eat sport. For them, happiness is totally reliant on certain results on a Saturday afternoon and they will go to any length to taste sporting success themselves.

Examples, I hear you cry!

Well I have a couple of real peaches.

A friend of mine lost arguably his best ever girlfriend over his sporting obsession.

It was the day of his second-year anniversary since the day they got together on a drunken night at a tacky holiday park.

I was unaware of the significance of the day and so I asked my friend if he fancied a friendly game of five-a-side football that night.

I explained that we were short of numbers and I felt sure that he would agree to play.

For I was speaking to a person who is so obsessed with football that he once held off a trip to the hospital to play heads and volleys in the park after falling down the stairs and breaking his toe. He could only stand on one leg but that didn't stop him flinging his body about as though his life depended on it.

But my friend turned down my appeal, at first anyway. He told me that his girlfriend had arranged for them to enjoy a candlelit dinner at a fancy restaurant and said: "She will kill me if I don't go."

"Fair enough," I replied. I wished him a happy anniversary and looked elsewhere to fill up the numbers.

I was successful too and come kick-off time I was all set for an enjoyable evening.

Then, to my amazement, my friend turned up kitted out in his football gear ready for action.

It turns out that his girlfriend was already dolled up to the nines before he sprung on her his decision to postpone their anniversary celebrations until later in the week.

She was distraught that he'd chosen a kick about with friends over their big night out and she soon ended their relationship and moved on to a more reasonable man.

Talking about unreasonable men, I was appalled by the behaviour of some of my teammates in a more recent footy match.

A talented 17-year-old was making his debut for us and after only five minutes of play he was sent crashing to the ground by a mistimed tackle.

I ran over to him and was gutted to discover that he had badly broken his ankle.

He was in a lot of pain and discomfort and with play stopped I helped to carry him off the pitch so that he could receive medical attention.

It was a bitterly cold night and as heavy rain came crashing down it dawned on some of my teammates that we had no spare tops for our substitutes waiting in the wings.

So, without a thought for the poor kid shivering in pain on the sidelines waiting for his dad to pick him up and take him to the hospital, they went over to him, took his top off and chucked it to his replacement.

To them and thousands of sports nuts like them, winning is the be all and end all.

Sad, but true!