IT was interesting to read the story of how Wycombe Wanderers’ goalkeeper Nikki Bull performed a wonder save on Saturday during his team’s vital 1-0 win at home to Rotherham.

Fans were left raving about it, while his manager Gary Waddock described it as being akin to a Gordon Banks save.

I take nothing away from Bull’s fabulous stop, after having watched on video how he somehow managed to leap across his goal and turn Rotherham striker Ryan Taylor’s header onto the bar.

However, I believe I have seen an even better save in the last few weeks. And ironically it came from Andy Carswell the reporter who wrote the match report chronicling Bull’s heroics.

Carswell was playing in goal for my team at Highcrest Community School, in an indoor match where the ball flies fast and furiously off walls, causing ferocious pain whenever it connects with your body.

He produced a double save that had to be seen to be believed, as he flew across the net like ‘Superman’ to stop an inevitable goal.

There were loud gasps of genuine shock from everyone on the pitch as the ball cannoned away to safety. It was possibly the best save I had ever seen and yet it was in a meaningless match peopled mostly by middle-aged dads.

It will never be shown on TV and Carswell’s heroics will only go into the folklore of his own imagination.

But my point here is that every day of the week in every town in the UK there are people young and old performing soccer heroics just like this.

It is what makes football tick and is the reason why stars such as Wayne Rooney got into the game in the first place.

Football is the world’s greatest game, but it only needs a couple of coats to be placed on the ground as goalposts to make it work.

Yet the sport has been corrupted by the ridiculous salaries enjoyed by the Premiership stars – the ones who always underperform in an England shirt at big tournaments.

Football is still massive at this moment in time, but last summer’s World Cup failure and the various tabloid soccer star scandals have blighted the game to such an extent that one day soon the public could fall out of love with it.

But compare all this hype to the everyday excitement enjoyed in amateur or junior games.

My son joined a children’s team a couple of years ago and it was only then that I realised just how large and involved junior football really is in Bucks.

I have now attended numerous packed and well-organised tournaments, and I’ve also enjoyed the weekly slog of countless training sessions. Football is not just about the Rooneys and the Terrys; the real heroes are the unsung coaches who give their time and expertise year in and year out for nothing apart from the love of the game.

I now get more excited when I’m watching our under-9s team try to hold on to a lead in the dying minutes than I do about seeing a bunch of pampered Premiership prima donnas.

As a result of watching our sons and daughters play, a group of us dads got together and arranged weekly matches. I’m still as useless as I ever was, and I normally end up with a bruised head or bashed-in finger, but at my age this game is the highlight of my week.

The point I’m trying to make here is that football has been overtaken by a sort of madness. Stars are placed on pedestals like Hollywood legends, and there’s always scandal, intrigue and disappointment.

But ultimately, football is the simplest game in the world. It’s meant to be played to be enjoyed and I wish more people would get out of their armchairs and stick down a couple of jumpers in their local park.

I also wish more people would support their local teams – such as Wanderers and the admirable Nikki Bull – rather than always going for the ‘glamour’ of Chelsea and Man United.

Kids’ football, middle-aged dads’ matches, teenagers kicking a ball in the street and your hometown’s team battling for promotion... they are all far more important to the fabric of this country than the over-rated Premiership aristocrats who so often bring this great game into disrepute.