He was born into poverty in Algiers and never knew his father, who died in the early exchanges of the First World War, when Albert was one. Brought up by his mother, his was a strict, maternal childhood. His grandmother used to beat him regularly, which explained his early penchant for playing in goal in street games: there was less scuffing of the shoes in goal, and if there was one thing that set grand-mère thrashing it was scuffed shoes. But there is something appropriate about a philosopher like Camus stationing himself between the sticks. It is a lonely calling, an individual isolated within a team ethic, one who plays to different constraints. If his team scores, the keeper knows it is nothing to do with him. If the opposition score, however, it is all his fault. Standing sentinel in goal, Camus had plenty of time to reflect on the absurdist nature of his position.