Being a father of teenage girls can sometimes leave you feeling as though you are running a glorified taxi service.

The week’s schedule can be defined by pick-ups and drop-offs, your social life reduced to knowing nods with other parents.

My eldest daughter, Josephine, plays football for Salisbury, who play in the Wiltshire League. Wiltshire – plot spoiler – is quite large, and with Salisbury nestled in the bottom corner of the county, every away match is a good hour’s drive away.

On top of that, the fixture computer has decided that March is away day month, with no hangover friendly home games until after Easter.

To cut a long story short, last Saturday the team had a cup match away against Derry Hill, in Calne.

Having done Friday night training (in Bulford), I then squeezed in an end of week drink, foolishly forgetting I was going to be getting up to drive Josephine to the match. Having got to Calne in need of several coffees, it transpired that the officials were a linesman short, and would I do the honours?

As I stood there, on a particularly bitter morning, ever so slightly hungover, it wasn’t only the opposition fans thinking, you don’t know what you’re doing. To make matters worse, Salisbury gave away a soft free kick and out of nowhere, were one-nil down.

Things then went from bad to surreal after a dispute between the referee and the other linesman when the ball went out for a throw-in. The referee overruled the linesman, a coach for the other team.

The linesman refused to change his call. The referee sent off the linesman. By now I was seriously worried about what might happen to me when I got my next offside call wrong.

Josephine pulled a goal back for Salisbury. One-all at half time. But having got back into the game, Derry Hill went ahead. One-all became 2-1. Then 3-1. Then 4-1.

That long drive back to Salisbury was beginning to feel even longer. Josephine scored again. 4-2. But there wasn’t much time left and it felt like a consolation goal.

Somehow, though, Salisbury scored again. 4-3. And then with the last kick in stoppage time, they equalised. 4-4. Scenes. Penalties.

Derry Hill’s goalkeeper saved the first penalty and then scored her own. Once again, Salisbury were behind. When Josephine went up to take her penalty, my heart was in my mouth. Thankfully, she scored. Salisbury pulled level.

Then they went ahead. Derry Hill hit the crossbar: Salisbury had won. More scenes. Our goalkeeper disappeared under a pile of players.

The parents all hugged each other. And suddenly, all those early Saturday morning starts didn’t seem quite so bad after all.