Taking the Mick

Now then. There is a player amongst us called Mick Kavanagh. A very fine player, I’m sure we’ll all agree – great range of passing, tough tackling, box-to-box and possessed of a thunderous shot. It would appear I have been hiding Mick’s light under a Gary Bushell of late, with little mention of his goal scoring feats. No longer.

First of all, I erroneously omitted Mick from last week’s scoresheet. Mea culpa. Secondly, I am beginning this match report not by telling you the teams, or the final score, or even who scored the first goal, but who scored the crucial third. It was Mick. This goal was of such crucial importance it made Simon Gashead try and change the teams, such was the apparent dominance the side in which Mick (naturally) appeared. For the record, the goal itself was a rasping effort drilled hard and low into the bottom right hand corner after some pleasing interplay on the right between the Brummie banjo player and Alex from Stoke. As everyone ran back for the restart, Mr Kavanagh leaned in to my ear and uttered, sotto voce, ‘Put that in your blog’. And here it is.

By this stage Alex had already scored twice, both fine finishes after some good running through midfield, but Mick’s goal, or more probably Simon’s offer to reshape the sides, had a galvanising effect on the team in colours and they promptly pulled two back, both through Simon the Drummer, if memory serves. At that stage it looked as if we could be in for a comeback of Newcastle proportions, but a cataclysmic mix-up in the coloured team’s defence lead to someone (Alex?) having an open goal to roll the ball into. There was time for one more goal from the side in colours to leave a final score of 4-3.

The other major talking point was the gradual re-emergence of both Simon Gashead and Dave A from goal, like two shaggy behemoths emerging after a Winter spent in hibernation. Ian Gooner, somewhat unkindly, blamed Simon’s vacating of the penalty area on the team in bibs sudden shipping of two goals, although Simon was soon settled into his familiar left back berth. Dave A was uncharacteristically shot-shy, although the one effort I can recall cannoned into my midriff.

And so to the pub, although not for me as I endeavoured to shake off this infernal head cold which has been filling my sinuses for the past fortnight. Until Friday, I leave you with a tribute to Mick (see above), who has a certain familiar look to him.