Monday, 26 February 2018

Popcorn for the eyes

Morning all, from a snowy East London. Another match report for you here, as I returned to the fray after a one-week absence during which Simon Gas resumed team selection duties for the first time in a few months, (and made an absolute Horlicks of it, by the sounds of things).

Here are your two teams…

Yellows: me, Stu, Paul, Bristol Paul, Simon Gas, Danny, Charlie, Joe and Liam

Blues: Ian Baggies, Ian Gooner, Geoff, Andrew, Steve, Mick, David, Michele and Ross

Pretty much everyone arrived on time and we enjoyed a decent game, fairly evenly contested with six goals. Michele very nearly scored in the opening exchanges but his first time shot from a decent cross from the right rattled the crossbar, possibly via a touch from Danny in goals. 

Liam snaffled the opening goal of the contest, but the Blues were soon on terms (Michele doing the damage?), before Liam once again outwitted the Blue defence and shuffled the ball home from an acute angle. At this stage the Yellow team were good value for their lead despite surrendering much of the possession to the Blues, who had monopolised midfield in the sort of sterile possession-style beloved of recent Spain teams. However, with Danny’s tenure in goal ending around the quarter hour mark the Yellow team gradually found their way out of defence and Stu and Charlie started to find the space for Liam’s merciless attacking.

The Blues equalised after I got caught trying to dribble out of defence and the ball got nudged through to Geoff, who demonstrated some admirable panache by wrong-footing Stu in goal and rolling the ball into the back of the net with aplomb. Two all.

The game could have then gone either way, but it is now my solemn duty to report on the next goal. A splendid move down the Yellows’ left, starting with some deft work from Liam to set Bristol Paul scampering down the touchline culminated in the ball being pinged across the byline where I had the task of tapping home from all of about two feet having burst through from midfield. 3-2 shortly became 4-2 as Charlie lolloped forward and gently guided the ball home to complete the evening’s scoring.

Not too much else to report; Charlie also managed to lose one of the balls over the Coram Fields side of the pitch and everyone else conformed to their usual playing styles, whether that be competitive, combative, skilful, cajoling or stoic. (Or just plain rubbish). 

Final score: Yellows 4 – Blues 2

And so onto the pub, where we managed to squeeze around one table and away from the Artic draught coming in from the doors. Topics under discussion included Ross’s recent stag do and upcoming nuptials, PPI payments (upsetting “financial Darwinism” was Ian’s memorable description) and the grapefruit beer on sale at the Skinners, which was surprisingly palatable.

I think we also briefly previewed yesterday’s League Cup Final. Incredibly, out of 45,000 other Arsenal fans I had managed to buy a ticket seated next to Ian Gooner, which we only realised when we compared tickets in the pub before leaving for Wembley. As for the match itself, the less said the better. My highlight was Ian bequeathing a giant bag of popcorn to me as he left the ground following David Silva’s goal.

Until next time…  

No comments: