The phantom hatchet man of Old Street

Last Friday night’s action saw 8 play 7, with Geoff given the role of super sub, should it be required. Lining up for the team in bibs was Simon Gashead, still nursing a nasty bump on the ankle and therefore staying in goal, Steve A, Joe, my good self, Boro Dave, Ross and Ian West Brom. Up against them were Dave A, also still keeping goal due to injury, Paul, Yev, young Sam, Danny, Andy, Mick and Simon the Drummer.

It was a game with a number of interruptions; Yev left the field within the first five minutes to drop the kids off at the pool and Simon the Drummer blasted the white ball out of the ground and onto the roof of the portacabin directly behind the goal. But the most notable interruption was when Steve A injured his ankle after taking a trademark tilt at goal from near the halfway line. With no one within five yards of him he went down like a wounded moose, (making a similar noise). Following Simon Gashead’s mysterious ankle injury and my similarly bizarre toe knack it would appear that a malevolent spirit is haunting the five a side field, taking one of us out each week. What could be the cause of this footballing poltergeist? Is there some sort of jinn out to crock us all?

Whatever the truth, and it is out there, Steve’s injury ushered in the introduction of the mercurial Geoff. Except it didn’t, at least not for a couple of minutes, as in typically enigmatic fashion he vanished from view only to reappear just as suddenly. By this stage of the game the team in colours were two goals up, although I cannot quite recall the two scorers – I believe they were young Sam and Yev, who having lost a few pounds in the disabled toilet had something of a spring in his step.

Despite both sets of posts coming in for a real pounding the score remained 2-0, with Dave A in particular proving incredibly difficult to beat. One suggestion from Mick is that he plays in a kilt next week to even things up.

An extraordinarily busy night at the Old Fountain’s Head, to the extent that we spent around 30 minutes drinking outside – in February. An early night for all, bar Ross who was off to somewhere suitably rock ‘n roll in Bethnal Green. Get well soon, Steve.