Unfortunately, the most memorable thing about my first game for Millhouses had nothing to do with football. As well as the pace, the other big difference was the amount of what Dad calls “sledging”. Boys’ football is a lot more vocal than the girls’ version. Quite a few girls’ matches I’ve been involved in have been played in total silence. Boys are much more likely to talk to each other, and not just to members of their own team either. I discovered mind games are a big part of football.

The sledging usually starts during the pre-match handshake, which is supposedly a goodwill gesture initiated by the FA to promote sportsmanship – but that’s really all it is: a gesture.

My brother says he once played in an under-eights match when the biggest player from the other team whispered “F*** you!” every time he shook hands with someone.

For me it’s usually something like, “Ooh! Hello darling!” or, “Which one’s your boyfriend?” or maybe a lame joke like, “Hey, I didn’t know we were playing netball!” Sometimes I can’t tell what they’ve said, but I hear them laughing about me after I’ve gone past. And I get wolf-whistled quite a lot.

If they say something directly to me, I just roll my eyes, but if they say something to one of their mates, I just pretend I haven’t heard. I don’t let it bother me. I think sexist comments are inevitable, sadly.

Sometimes, when we line up for the kick-off and I’m on the side of the pitch near the spectators, I can hear the opposition parents also making jokes about me. Usually nothing too mean, but I guess they just think it’s funny that a girl is playing.

Perhaps they’ll say, “Make sure you get her number as you go past her” or, “Don’t get distracted by the full-back.”

I pretend to ignore this, but I find it really helps to get the adrenaline pumping. I’d almost go as far as to say that I like it when it happens because it gets me really fired up, especially if it’s freezing cold or I’m not really in the mood for the match for some reason.

I usually go up for corners to mark the goalkeeper and I try to distract them. There was one team we played and, as I ran into the area, they all started singing, “Bird in the box! Bird in the box!” I think they were trying to put me off, but we still scored. You do get used to it and you just have to learn how to cope. Another time I went up for a free-kick and one lad said, “Why have I got to mark the girl?” We were winning so I was feeling quite bold and said, “And why do I have to mark the dick?” That got quite a few laughs – even from his own team-mates.

Playing With The Boys by Niamh McKevitt’ Photograph: Vision Sports Publishing

It’s not all one-way though. If I flatten someone in a tackle then I always help them up, ask them if they’re OK and apologise for hurting them. But really what I’m doing is making them feel worse, confirming that, yes, you really were just decked by a girl!

However, there is a point where sledging stops and abuse starts. I’ve never been threatened directly, but I’ve been called a “slag” a few times and I’ve played in matches where I’ve heard people threaten to break someone’s legs: “if you try to go past me again …” or something similar. Some teams have a reputation for trying to intimidate the opposition and it’s sad to say that, in my experience, they often end up succeeding.

When you’re playing those kinds of teams you might find that some of your own players go missing. It’s little things like they stop making runs or stop calling for the ball. And when they do get it they give it away as quickly as possible.

In games like these you need leaders who’ll show that they aren’t scared, won’t pull out of a tackle and don’t really care what the other team is saying. I always try to be one of those players, as if to give the impression: “Hey lads, if the girl isn’t scared, then we don’t need to be.”

Just two days after our first game against Thorncliffe Colts, we were away at Darfield in Barnsley for an evening kick-off.

I was a bit concerned about the referee, who seemed to be the same age as us and was, rather disconcertingly, on first-name terms with all the Darfield players. Again I started the match, but we went two goals down fairly quickly. About half an hour into the game, I went in for a header and got kicked in the face. My first instinct was to think, “For God’s sake, don’t cry!” My second was to think, “Ouch, that really, really hurts.”

Instead of a free-kick to us the referee awarded a throw-in to them. Overwhelmed by the injustice of it all and the pain, I burst into tears and had to come off. While most of the time it feels like I’m just one of the lads, it does occasionally feel like I’m not just one of the lads. This was the first of those times. If Chris or Bilal got kicked in the face and cried, it was because they got kicked in the face and it really hurt. But if I got kicked in the face and cried, it was because I’m a girl. If Dan or Sheriyar screwed up, or tried to do something and it failed to come off, it was because they weren’t good enough; if I screwed up, it was because girls aren’t good enough to play football. I didn’t want Iain and Dave to think, “We’ve made a mistake signing Niamh, this league’s too tough for her,” so I had a drink and told them I was ready to go back on.

It was an agonising wait through the rest of the half and half-time, but with 25 minutes to go I did go back on. I was absolutely determined to show everybody that I was tough enough to play at this level, and most of all to show the winger who had kicked me in the face (and on purpose, I had decided). Within five minutes I got my chance. A 50-50 ball. I threw everything into the tackle. Sometimes, you know what’s going to happen before it happens and this just felt right. I took the ball cleanly, the player went flying, and I kicked it up the pitch to Bilal who did his thing of running at 90mph past two defenders and scoring.

We ended up losing, but Iain said it was the best game I’d played.

“Perhaps we should get someone to kick you in the face before every match Niamh,” he said.

It hadn’t been a perfect start, but I now felt ready to take on whatever boys’ football threw at me.

Playing With the Boys by Niamh McKevitt is published by Vision Sports Publishing, RRP £12.99