Sunday Football is my love letter to the game that consumed me for so many years. A visual interpretation of the beloved game at amateur level. An ode to those players that turn up late, hungover and discussing last night’s conquest. Those who light a cigarette at half time whilst sucking an orange quarter for the supposed energy it gives you. Those that repeatedly call the referee, their team mates and the opposing team a ‘cunt’. Those that get lost in the emotion of the game and start the occasional brawl on the pitch, and those that round off the weekend with a quick pint of beer with their teammates post-game before heading back to the missus and kids for a roast dinner… British Sunday league football at it’s best, every week of the season come rain or shine, at Hackney Marshes, the spiritual home of amateur football.

Chris Baker, East London, 2016