What a carry on...

Paul 'The Guvnor' writes....

Joe and Gashead handled the selection duties last week and the two teams lined up as follows: Gashead, Dan, Geoff, Simon Ink, Big Gough and me the Guvnor versus Mick K., Boro Dave, Big Sam, Dannie, Andy and Joe.

We scored four goals with a brace for Big Gough but how many did they score? Ten, twelve, sixteen? I lost count and I was in goal for most of the match. That did not count the shots against the post. Amazingly, we managed to score the first goal then kept it down to two. But after that itwas more or less one way traffic with the our team completely unfamiliar with the concept of TRACKING BACK.

Afterwards, Gashead discussed plans for the end-of-season dinner, which is set for Friday, June 29th.

 

There was not much of a post-match mortem in the pu,b but there was quite an intellectual discussion of the Facebook flotation, who was going to be the next Liverpool manager and a chat about camping holidays.

Terrace humour

As Spring resolutely refuses to turn into Summer Friday nights remain steadfastly chilly, but for the hardy souls who spend the end of each working week running around trying to play football it makes no odds: came sun, hail, rain or snow we turn up, pick sides, relive our youth and then go the pub.

Which is a roundabout way of introducing the latest match report. Last Friday saw a seven aside affair with the teams picked (once again) by yours truly with the following line ups:

Bibs: Simon Gas, Dan, Dan’s mate Matt, Parisian Ian (henceforth known as ParisIan), Joe, Andy, Ian West Brom 

Colours: yours truly, Simon Inkpen, Mick, Yev, Danny, Paul, Alan

Despite taking the lead through an opportunist’s strike from ParisIan (from near the halfway line), the Colours clawed their way back into the game via a brace from Yev and eventually pulled away to win 5-2, (although the scores were briefly 3-1). As Simon is often heard saying if his team lose, ‘it wasn’t a 5-2 kind of game’, but to be fair the Bibs had the lion’s share of possession with Dan and his buddy Matt pinging the ball around with a metronomic quality, only to be let down by some wasteful finishing, (although they twice struck the posts). The Colours prevailed chiefly as a result of some ruthless finishing from Yev, although Simon Inkpen took up some nice positions only to be denied by a combination of good goalkeeping and a couple of shanked shots. 

Thankfully there were no nasty injuries or major differences of opinion this week, although I thought I’d unfairly brought down Joe from behind when he was poised to pull the trigger – had it been under Premier league rules I would seen red. 

Other than that, there was precious little else to report on a night when a fine drizzle left many of the players with a first touch like a baby elephant, (to the extent that Mick opined that we should stay behind for extra training). 

Last Friday saw the debut for most (all?) of us on the Old Fountain’s Head roof terrace, with the combination of chill winds and rain clearing most of the top deck of Hoxtonites and the IT crowds. With the patio heaters on it was toasty up there and I ended staying much longer than planned, as time seemed to take on a different quality. Maybe it was the altitude – drinking at a height of 25 feet can affect you in strange ways. Sadly, still no sign of Spizz, although following a nostalgic conversation between Mick, Ian and Alan about the relative merits of The Dead Kennedy’s and The Damned talk turned to everyone’s favourite pint sized punk icon. It may have been Mick (it may have been someone else) that labelled Spizz the Michael Owen of punk. At that, my friends, is the very apogee of (beer) terrace humour.

Football: bloody hell

Another two weeks have slipped by since the last match report(s), chiefly as I was in Cornwall last week for the ancient and annual Furry Dance in Helston, (as well as visiting the outlaws inlaws). The game on the 4^th May was chiefly memorable for a nasty ankle injury to Alex; ten minutes before the end of the game he turned his ankle very painfully and hobbled off with the assistance of Andy and Simon Gas, although such was his contribution that he still finished on the winning side. His ankle had swollen like a ripe fruit by the time our game had finished and Simon ‘Medicine Man’ Gas reckons he’ll be out for around six weeks, making it touch and go whether he’ll be back this side of the Jubilympics. 

Last Friday’s game was a taxing six-aside affair, with the two teams lining up as follows:

Bibs – me, Simon Gas, Yev, Steve A, Danny, Paul,

Colours – Dan, Mick, Cycling Ian, Sam, Joe and Samir Nasri*

(*Not sure what his real name was, but he had the physique and touch of the gifted French turncoat)

If those teams look a little unsided that’s because they were, although Simon and Joe made the somewhat mystifying decision to swap me and Ian Gooner just before kick off, (Ian last seen chugging around Paris on this racer for charity), which had little difference in terms of on-field impact, although a considerable impact on the Tale of the Tape. 

The Colours rattled out a 7-2 scoreline, with the Bibs innovative 3-0-1 formation set to become a footnote in the Chapter in coaching manuals entitled ‘Comedy’. Despite having two excellent defenders in Simon Gas and Danny and the ever-dangerous Yev, the Bibs were clearly lacking in midfield and although Yev grabbed a couple of goals some bashful (and extremely wayward in Steve’s case) finishing meant that the Colours eventually eased away with goals shared almost equally between the six players. Mick provided the midfield platform for Dan to run amok, grabbing two goals including one which was passed into the bottom corner from some distance. Ian was also on the scoresheet, wrong-footing yours truly in goal with a near post finish that rolled back the years. That Parisian air has clearly leant Ian’s play some élan. Nasri’s all round vim and energy was also rewarded with a goal, as he prepared for Sunday’s title decider at the Etihad.

Unlike the 4^th May, where a factional split developed, a bacchanal fissure if you will, between myself, Dan, Andy, Ian and Alan on the one hand and Yev and co on the other, with the former heading to the White Lion and the latter to the Old Fountain’s Head (Simon Gas, ever the diplomat, had a pint in both camps), last Friday saw a reunification of the Players as we all headed to the Old Fountain. The roof terrace is now complete and open, although given that we are never going to get there before 8.00 pm on a Friday the chances of us ever drinking up there are akin to Joey Barton being sent to Syria to broker a peace agreement. 

A word about yesterday’s extraordinary denouement to the end of the Premier League: blimey. City’s title win cannot be good news for anyone other than City fans in the long-run, but there was no denying the drama and sheer heart-thudding excitement of Ageuro’s 95^th minute winner. My highlight of the day was seeing Phil Jones’s gormless and child-unfriendly face crash in disappointment. Schadenfreude indeed.