Thursday 26 June 2014

Oscar

Many apologies for the radio silence over the past couple of weeks; the World Cup has taken up most of my evenings and the day job has taken up most of my days.

The game which took place two weeks ago is now too far away for me to recall, particularly with the stinking head cold that I’m typing this through, but I think Yev scored lots of goals. The chief memory of that evening is watching Holland thump Spain 5-1, which now seems like a very long time ago.
 
Moving ahead seven days, and even last week’s game is fading fast from the memory. We’re still having to take to the field via the children’s park adjacent to the pitches due to some anti-social behaviour from various local herberts, which means bringing the bikes through is an impossibility, much to Yev’s chagrin the other week when he was remonstrating, futilely in the end, to bring his two wheeled monster into the playing area.

Simon Gas picked the following two teams last week - 

Blues: me, Mario, Ian West Brom, Liam, Mick, Simon Ink, Bristol Paul

Yellows: Yev, Nick, Ian Gooner, Simon Gas, Danny, Will


Despite having the extra man, the Blues never really took advantage of their numerical superiority and with the Yellows having a strong defence, with Simon Gas and Danny in attendance, as well as Will and Nick pulling the strings in midfield, the Yellows were up against it from the off.
Yev scored the first three goals, I believe; Danny got one extraordinary goal as he run down the by-line, switching on the after-burners and leaving me for dead before calmly stroking the ball past Ian Baggies in nets. Nick also created a goal by dummying a speculative upfield hoof that evaded everyone and bounced apologetically into the net.
 
As for the Blues, they did get in amongst the goals – Mick grabbed a couple, including the Blue’s fifth goal which briefly threatened parity; the ball fizzed off his half-volley and nestled unerringly in the net, in front of the next group of players to take to the pitch, who nodded sagely in appreciation. The Yellows than had a breakaway which saw Nick get what proved to be the winner.

Mario was also on target for the Blues, (as well as spectacularly off-target on two occasions), and Liam and I both weighed in, my goal being something of a fluke as I overhit a left footed through ball to Liam that span outrageously and caught out Will in goal. Liam said it was Oscar-like. He must have been talking about my Academy Award winning performance of pretending that I meant it.

 Final score - Yellows 7 Blues 5

Tragically, I had to work last Saturday, so I didn’t make it the Skinners, but the fear was that the evening would descend into England’s woeful World Cup. 

Until tomorrow, gentlemen.


Tuesday 10 June 2014

Reasons to be cheerful

Shorn of our illustrious leader – away in the land of the midnight sun – last Friday’s game was an affair marked with uncertainty and intrigue. Who would be collecting the keys? Who would be collecting the money? Who would be picking the teams? Who would be allocating next week’s wash and ball rota?
The answers to these questions were, respectively, Simon Ink, Danny (the obvious choice), me and a consensus. And thus with fourteen people assembled (once Yev had arrived) the pleasant early Summer evening began in earnest. 

These were the two teams I selected:

Yellows – Mario, Danny, Bristol Paul, me, Yev (following an early switch with Ian Baggies), Ross, Ian Gooner

Blues – Steve, Daniel, Liam, Ian Baggies, Nick, Mark, Simon Ink

The game’s first goal arrived after approximately twenty seconds; Mario seized on a loose kick out from whoever was in goal for the Blues to begin with and slammed home with virtually his first kick of the game. Following Yev’s customary change behind the goal there was subtle rebalancing of the teams that saw the next thirty minutes pass in stalemate. 

Not that there weren’t chances – quite the contrary. Yev and Ross contrived to make an almighty cock up of at least one two-v- one chance while had we been playing FIFA rules Ian Gooner would have been off after Liam attempted a Bergkampesque spin around the Forest Gate leviathan only for the big man to floor him with what aficionados of 1970’s Saturday afternoon show World of Sport would have recognised as a Daddy Smash. Shocking stuff. In addition, both teams hit the metalwork. 

Eventually the Yellows superior fire power (I am not sure why I though putting Mario and Yev on the same team was a good idea) began to tell and 1-0 became 5-0 in less than five minutes. Yev and Ross both managed to get goals, some of them from further out than the would-be six yard area, although I think it is a fair criticism that the Blues lacked a little organisation at the back. As the Blues gamely played on and tried to recover, Liam was eventually awarded a penalty after a professional foul from Danny and the Caledonian hit-man made no mistake with the spot-kick, despite Ian’s  attempts to put him off by prancing behind the goal.

Just when it looked as if 6-1 would be the final score, there was one final piece of noteworthy action that it would be falsely modest of me not to relay. Mario played the ball back to me with a perfectly weighted pass and from around twenty yards I side footed the ball up in the air, around the defenders and just as I thought it was about to hit the post it curled in the top corner at the very last second. Cue final whistle.

Yellows 7 – Blues 1

And so to the pub, to which I am going to assign the adjective balmy this week. I ended up staying until closing time, as after chewing the fat with our two Italian players, Yev and Ian for some time – during which Ian and I were discussing the relative merits of round and skinny bottoms, (hence the title of this week’s blog) – I talked comedy and football with Liam, Mark and Bristol Paul.

This Friday’s game will take place during the 2014 World Cup; I’m guessing we’ll be watching the Spain v Holland game in the Skinners after we’ve finished. Here’s to a Dutch win (2-1) and an early exit for the current champions. 

You heard it here first, (monster monster).