The Kraken awoke

Predictably, following last week’s eighteen-man fandango we were struggling for numbers on Friday night, with young Sam being drafted in to make two teams of six aside.

As far as memory serves the two teams were:

Bibs: Yev, Alan, Simon Gas, Paul, Geoff, Andy

Colours: me, (older?) Sam, Danny, Simon Inkpen, (young) Sam, Joe

It was a slightly odd affair, in that the colours took the lead with a brace from Simon Inkpen sandwiching an equaliser from the bibs. The colours then took a 3-1 lead through Joe and at this stage were pinging the ball around prettily and generally looking extremely comfortable indeed. Joe and young Sam in particular forged an excellent understanding and created numerous chances, albeit largely from angles either side of the ‘D’. Older Sam, (this is starting to sound like a tale from the Viking chronicles – Sam Youngsson as opposed to Sam Eldersson?) and I dropped back to contain the simmering goalscoring menace that is Yevgeniy.

All was going well, when suddenly the Kraken awoke and decided to win the game single-handedly; Yev brought the scores back level with two goals, one a rasping shot that fizzed into the net, the equaliser more of a Gerd Muller style finish that capped a fine team goal. The one that made it 4-3 to the Bibs left the outside of his right boot and crashed into the bottom right hand corner from about 20 yards; I forget who scored the fifth. Viewing events retrospectively, having lost their lead the colours seemed to drop too far off the ball in midfield having previously been so comfortable and yielded too much possession. A real game of two halves.

Other notables included Andy miscuing repeatedly from the edge of the D but still contriving to nutmeg Sam Eldersson, (much to his chagrin). There was what I have promised to call a ‘lovely moment’ when Alan somewhat paternally admonished Sam Youngsson for going in feet and metaphorical studs up: ‘Don’t go in studs up’, quoth the genial Irishman; ‘I just raised my foot’, replied the fair-haired tyro. ‘Well don’t do it again’. ‘Sorry’. It reminded me of a scene from the Waltons. I had a good chance toward the end but passed the ball into the grateful arms of Joe rather than either side and into the net.

And so to the pub, where the big news was the reappearance of mercurial punk legend Spizz, shamelessly promoting his last gig in London… until December. Clad in customarily DIY branded tracksuit bottoms (i.e. leggings) and other punk paraphernalia he was promoting his appearance on Saturday evening at Electrowerkz alongside Punishment of Luxury and Dutch Order. If you missed it, your next opportunity to see the Spike Milligan of Punk will be in Milan and Belgrade. Book early to avoid disappointment.

Back in the groove...

Happy New Year, readers – last Friday was my first game of 2012. And what a game it was; I cannot recall so many people playing before in one evening – we had a team of eight playing a team of nine with one substitute. (Hang on, that doesn’t sound very fair, even with a rush goalie).

More for reasons of testing the impact of a month of alcohol, carbohydrates and poultry-based protein on my short-term memory, I am going to try and remember the two teams.

Here goes...

Bibs: Dave A, Steve A, Simon Gas, Paul ‘The Guvnor’, Yev (eventually), Joe, Ross, Sam, Alex and Wing Commander Will

Colours: me, Ian G, Dan, Danny, Mick, Boro Dave, Simon Inkpen, Andy

Not bad, eh?

Just to show I was really paying attention, the final score was 4-2 to the team in Bibs, although the colours did initially take the lead through (I think) Dan and again via a wicked tight angled finish from Mick. Cue Yev’s customarily tardy entrance and an immediate effect on the team in colours as they sought to prevent the monster from the Urals from doing too much damage. While the colours did prevent him from scoring, having to devote so much attention to him left space for their other danger men and W-C Will and Sam both found the net as the bibs eventually eased away from the team in colours.

In terms of notable incidents there was one fairly agricultural challenge on Boro Dave from Alex which left the Teesside hitman in a heap long after the ball had gone. There was also a disputed shout for a penalty, chiefly from Yev, after Steve A had taken the ball a bit too far into the box, where goalkeeper Mick blocked. Perversely, the Bibs had claimed that it was Mick who had left the area, but thankfully justice was done. Given we were a man down and also facing a team making regular substitutions that would have stuck in the craw somewhat. My chief contribution was to get away with a cheeky handball which evaded everyone’s attention except Joe.

The refurbishment at the Old Fountain’s Head seems virtually complete, roof terrace notwithstanding. Perhaps this had attracted a larger than usual non-football crowd in there, including a healthy smattering of young ladies. They must have sensed danger, as within half an hour of Yev sitting anywhere near them they’d taken flight into the north London darkness.

Until next week...