Go Wilde!

Hot on the heels of last week’s game and the ensuing patchy match report comes… another game and hopefully a more comprehensive blog, as (happily) I was able to play the full hour this week.

Here are your teams:

Blues – Chris (another Morgan Stanley alumnus), Danny, Simon Gas, Ross, me, Mario, Nick and Patrick

Yellows: Bristol Paul, Tony, Steve, Yev, Ian Gooner, Mick and Peter 

Antonio was supposed to play for the Yellows but never arrived; with Yev rocking up at around 7.15 the Yellows started with Nick as a make weight, meaning that we kicked off with seven aside.

Danny began in goal for the Blues and conceded when Peter prodded home from close range after the Blues defence failed to cut out a whipped centre. I believe that Patrick equalised very shortly afterwards and at this stage first Chris and then Tony had to go off injured. 

The Yellows opted to bring on a pair of young ringers at this point, with the two boys alternating, which is never great for the team they’re on. I think it’s fair to say that one of them was better than the other, with the young black lad being a bit better with his feet but far too small to make an impact against a group of middle aged leviathans. In fact, their collective major contribution was to win a free-kick after Mario accidentally clipped one of their ankles.

Despite all of the chopping and changing, the late arrivals, the non-arrivals and the young ringers, we actually had a pretty decent game that ended up all square. I know that I let in two goals during my stint in nets, with one finish coming from either Mick or Peter after I was left unsighted from a cross from the left and the next coming from the young ringer after I’d not got out quickly enough to close down a Yellow attack. 

Simon Gas then took his turn in goals and kept the Blues in it with a string of superlative saves, chiefly from Peter – one triple save had the tall financier gripping his head in disbelief as Simon got something to all three efforts, all of which were travelling at his customary Mach 3 velocity, with the final one coming off the post and thence to safety. Simon was eventually beaten on his near post from yet another ferocious attempt from Peter, which made it 5-4 to the Yellows. 

At the other end Mario, Ross and Patrick were enjoying one another’s company in the manner of three Edwardian school chums out on a Summer’s bicycle ride and were able to drag the Blues back into things; I think Patrick got at least three of the goals, but Mario was there or thereabouts and Ross had a tremendous chance toward the end after Patrick squared to him, but Steve managed to get out and smother his effort. 

Simon, Danny and Nick were (just) able to repel the increasingly ferocious attacking from Yev, Mick and Peter and it ended up with both teams leaving the field with their chins up as the final score was five apiece.

And thus to the pub, in mine and Steve’s case via Yev’s chauffeuring. This week’s various conversations are perhaps best summed as ‘The Trouble with Wives’, or maybe ‘Men and Women’, which is probably less sexist. (But in the sort-of words of Nigel Tufnell, ‘what’s wrong with being sex(y)ist’?) 

And as Oscar Wilde said, women are not meant to be understood; they’re meant to be loved. And he should have known. Ahem.