What Cigarettes do to Your Lungs

It's all pretty hazy now. But I distinctly remember that there was a time when playing football was actually fun. Nonetheless, as I lay there, flat on my back, my chest felt like a furnace and and my head was throbbing agonizingly, I wished that I had liked chess instead.

I used to play a lot when I was a kid. Every afternoon, I would go down to the football pitch near my house and played until sundown. That's nearly two hours of football. Scurrying here and there. Everyday.

I remember feeling like Maradona everytime I scored a goal. Or like Hans Van Breukelen when I went into full-stretch dive to deny one. I could still recall what it was like to be hacked down while running or the clashing of shin-bones when I tackled. What I don't remember is that feeling of having my life sucked out of me every time I finished playing.

I don't get it. Where is that kid now? Has he really became this decrepit of a bloke who is lying on the grass gasping for air?