Das Boot

Another Friday, another chance to run around in Arctic conditions to try and avoid contracting hypothermia, all in the name of the beautiful game.

Last week’s match was another lung-burning, limb-aching, ball-freezing near-five aside affair – for the record there were eleven hardy souls out on Coram Fields plying their footballing trade.

The two teams lined up in due accordance with Simon Gas’s wishes: Viz

Colours: Ian, Joe, Alan, Paul, Steve, me

Bibs: Boro Dave, Phil, Danny, Simon Gas, Andy

The final score was a fearful 12 (twelve) - 4; a terrible chasing by anyone’s standards. I am not going to even attempt to describe each goal, so will restrict myself to edited highlights.

Bibs goals – Phil and Boro Dave did all awful lot of the damage, with far too many of the 12 (twelve) goals coming from direct runs toward the Colours’ ‘full backs’ with arrowed finishes across goal. I was between the sticks for one of Dave’s better efforts, which was as sweet a nutmeg as you’ll ever see this side of the Capital One Cup Final; Phil scored another past me by winning a 50:50 and tapping into an empty net. Another one which I can recall saw Ian in goal desperately yelling orders at me to get in position, while Phil promptly stuck the ball past the big Gooner mid-bark. In addition, Phil scored at least one direct from a free kick.

Colours goals – a bit easier to recall, given there were just four of them; the first came from a one-two between Joe and myself which saw him run in and finish (the scores at this stage were an unlikely 1-1). Alan got at least another two, one from a dinked through ball from me, while Ian could have a hatful but had to settle for one. The post-match consensus seemed to be that Danny and Boro Dave’s vim and energy made the difference in getting back to snuff out attacks while being swift enough to spring their own counter-attacks. 

The game was summed up by a particularly depressing passage of play that saw Danny leave the field of play to retrieve the ball – when it came back on the Colours temporarily had a 6 v 4 advantage, but given the chance to pass to either Ian or Joe I took the middle option and played a pass which bisected my two team-mates perfectly and ran harmlessly out of play.

Final goal – a break on the left saw a decent centre from Danny which saw Andy tap in first time to complete the humiliation.

And so the pub(s); following an abortive attempt to drink in the Marquis of Cornwallis, (curtailed due to the establishment in question being absolutely packed), we ended up in a curious establishment called The Boot, (hence the title of the blog). While the beer was cheap, our fellow drinkers were very noisy, as was the ‘music’. There was also the small matter of almost being accused of stealing someone’s bag, only for said item to turn up behind the bar.

The quest for a worthy successor to the Old Fountain’s Head continues...

Spiritual Pivot

One more week goes by in our new home, Coram Fields, and one more game takes place on Friday evening at the fashionable hour of eight ‘o’ clock. Last week’s fun and games saw a slightly lower turn out than the preceding Friday, with the two sides lining up as follows:

Bibs: Boro Dave, Nick, Mick, Ian West Brom, me, Ross, Paul, Ian West Brom

Colours: Joe, Danny, Phil, Simon Gas, Liam, Ian, the young Irish lad with the beard who’s name I definitely learn for next week’s blog, Paul

The more observant among you will note Paul’s ability to appear in two teams at once. He hasn’t reached a higher level of spiritual consciousness which enables him to transcend the boundaries of the known dimensions and inhabit a kind of non-linear astral plain, (although he may well have done by the time he’s read this), but rather he acted as the pivot around which the game turned. (That this pivot was based around Ross leaving the field for a toilet hiatus somewhat spoils this quasi-mystic analogy, but there you go).

I believe the final score was 5-3 to the Colours, despite them being a man (a deity?) short for a little over half the game. Danny – by common consent the Man of the Match – once again opened the scoring with what it behoves me to describe as a ‘trademark’ header, albeit one that left him feeling positively brained by the percussive conjoining of leather and noggin. Simon Gas guilty once again of pumping the ball up too hard.

The Colours took a 2-0 lead before Ross’s sojourn in the Coram bathrooms, and upon his return and with the Bibs' ranks bolstered by the addition of Pivot-God Paul they promptly drew level. At this stage the Bibs were playing some good, if somewhat over-elaborate, football with Nick and Boro Dave once again combining well with Ross heading up a dangerous looking front three.

However, the Bibs seemed to lose shape and the Colours went on to retake and then extend their lead through Ian and Phil. Ross and Nick both had excellent chances toward the end of the game, but Danny was diving down amidst the boots to head off danger and despite a late third goal for the Bibs they had left themselves with too much to do. 

A final word here for Paul, who managed to spirit himself into the opposition area and find himself totally unmarked at the back post not once, but twice, although sadly on both occasions his wraithlike ability to creep in unnoticed was compromised by the more prosaic shortcomings of his left foot.

And so to the pub, which this week was once again The Friend At Hand behind Russell Square. Despite leaving just after 10.00 pm to catch the train I didn’t get home until past midnight as a result of the various failings of Network Rail. I might start drinking in the changing room to save on Valuable Drinking Time. 

Until Friday, here is a somewhat preposterous link to a potential for next Friday’s post-match bevy http://www.themarquiscornwalliswc1.co.uk/.

Of fair play and rare headed goals....

Apologies for the delay in posting this week's match report. I am writing this in my next door neighbour's house waiting to be reconnected to the main electricity having suffered a power cut last night (Tuesday). If I've forgotten any of the key points in the game it'll be because my head has gone numb with the cold.

Friday's match was an eight a side affair, which made for less exhausting work than last week's five a side effort. From memory the two teams lined us thusly:

Bibs: me (following a late swap), Boro Dave, Nick, Andy, Simon Gas, Paul, Sam, Danny

Colours: Joe, Steve A, Ross, Phil, the late Geoff, short Irish fella with a beard, Alan, AN Other

The Bibs surged into a seemingly unassailable 4-1 lead, with goals from Boro Dave (predictably), Danny (more of which anon), and Joe's mate Nick, who linked very effectively with the Teessider in the opening exchanges. That the colours ran out 5-4 winners was due in no small part to a bizarre goal that made it 4-2, which Simon Gas later confessed to allowing "because he felt sorry" for the Colours. A shot took a massive deflection which sent it skyward before falling like an air to surface missile into the bottom right hand corner of the goal. The new ruling of playing the ball over head height from corners and then from the subsequent second ball had seen a truly historic opening goal, as Danny leapt like the proverbial salmon to nod in Dave's corner to make it 1-0 on the Bibs. As Sir Trevor Brooking might say, a rare headed goal indeed.

 

 

The other stand out moment in the the match was what we might label the 'FIFA Fair Play' award (as sponsored by Tony), when Nick eschewed the chance to collect the ball in a near one on one situation to kick a neighbouring game's ball back onto the pitch next to ours. Boro Dave was not so appreciative of the Corinthian spirit, it should be noted.

The fourth and fifth goals from the Colours were both remarkable; the equaliser was an unlucky deflection off Sam which left Andy with little chance, while the winner was a scuffed effort from the diminutive bearded Irishman that could have easily been ruled out for a foul.

And so to the pub, which this week was The Flag and Lamb (or Lamb and Flag, I forget which). Lots of beers, archaic pub snacks and even scotch eggs were sold and consumed in a majestically wood panelled setting that could have easily have seen the formation of a teetotal socialist society or perhaps the formal coding of an unusual strain of rugby a century before. A bit too far from the tube station, mind.

Until Friday....

Seven Eleven

From Burnden Park to the Reebok. From Aryesome Park to the Riverside. The Dell to St Mary’s. Victoria Park to the Brittania Stadium. Highbury to the Emirates. And now from Finsbury Leisure Centre to Coram Fields. Our happy band may have moved location, but the football stays the same: quite rubbish, with lots of arguing.

I missed the first game of the new era a few weeks back before the snow-enforced hiatus, so last Friday’s game was a novel experience for me. I’m told that the first match at Coram Fields was around nine aside, but owing to an attack of the vapours from Andy, a fit of pique from Yev and a nasty cheese allergy from Ross our promised numbers dwindled from a promising 11 or 12 in the afternoon to a disappointing ten by eight ‘o’clock. The more numerical among you will have worked that this meant five aside on a pitch that, to my eyes at least looked, as a long as a par 5 hole on a golf course. 

The teams lined up as follows:

Bibs – Simon Gas, Danny, Paul The Guvnor, Joe and Phil

Colours – Boro Dave, me, Ian Arsenal, Ian West Brom and Steve A

Most of the Bibs had played in the inaugural game a few weeks back and seemed to settle into a rhythmic, slow passing pattern which exploited Joe’s pace and trickery in tandem with Danny and Simon’s tenacity at the back and Paul and Phil’s touch in midfield. They duly raced into a 5-1 lead, with Joe and Phil tucking in like holidaying Americans at an all-you-can-eat buffet. 

Fellow Coram debutant Boro Dave soon re-discovered the kind of golden scoring form which marked his tenure over in Old Street and he rattled in around four goals, most of which came from his learned left foot to lend proceedings a modicum of respectability as 5-1 became 6-3 and then 8-4. As well as Boro Dave’s goal scoring exploits he also brought across his unparalleled ability to ‘encourage’ his team-mates, with Ian West Brom being the chief recipient of his inimitable Teesside hair-dryer treatment. Mind you, I fared little better and ended up on the wrong end of some hyper-critical on-field analysis from Ian, my fellow Gooner. The comparison to Andre Santos was particularly hurtful, (but probably deserved). 

The final score was 11-7 to the Bibs, or Colours: 7 11: Bibs, if you prefer. Goal of the night was undoubtedly Steve’s, with one of his three efforts being a pearl of a finish into Simon Gas’s top left- hand corner. This raises an interesting philosophical question, as the ball was technically over head height; only the churlish or the miserable would seek to chalk off such a fine effort, however.

After more Spartan showers, (i.e. fucking freezing) it was off to the Friend at Hand public house around the corner from Russell Square tube. No Freya or Jim there sadly, and very few chairs either – there may well be a different destination this Friday.

Until then! 

Dear Readers,

given the grave attack on the National Health Service (NHS) in England, I, aka "the guv'nor and the
Enfield dataman (sorry I have a split personality), is going to have face change to the "Spizz Forever"
blog, which links up quite a bit to www.spizzenergi.com, with a bit of emphasis on saving
Chase Farm Hospital in Enfield or it could be on similar moves at Lewisham and at the
Whittington. Apparently, the old punk rocker has put a photo of me on the Web doing my usual trundle at Old Street (our old home on a Friday night)..

There also have been operational reasons with patchy appearances of Spizz on the pitch and eagle-eyed readers would have spotted that we are not going on a tour to Germany.First, Fenian Mick
talked up a possible connection in Deutschland and probably realised our brand of football would lead us to being slaughtered by some massive Teutons. Also, Blades Andy offered a trip to play his headquarters in Germany and it was all going swimmingly but then Big Goughie and Big Sam started# doing their Gestapo impersonations. We just could not the chance of being with these guys in Germany.

A digression here: I went to see the Bayern Munich
defeat of Man Utd when Robben got that absolutely brilliant goal from the corner. (Michael Carrick
where were you?). As expected there were a lot of Munich fans and they were a massive size,

So the blog, when it is handled by Gooner Simon, will be the purest with devottion to just the trials and tribulations of the footie, now at Coram Fields, When I do the blog (The Guv'nor=Enfield Dataman). the blog will include comment on the issues of the day (why can't Arsene Wenger pick a good defence and Arsenal definitly need a new goal keeper).
,
I have massive admiration for Spizz, Minder Bill from ASLEF and old Tom, who was in Bomber Command. The latter got tanked up in Dublin with a group of mates and they took the train to Belfat so as to enlist in the Royal Air Force (RAF).

Warmest regards from the Guv'nor-Enfield Dataman

An appreciation of my new hero "Minder Bill from ASLEF"

Dear Reader,

you should have seen "Minder Bill from ASLEF", aka Bill Rodgers, in action during yesterday's march in Enfield Town and at the occupation of the possibly doomed hospital of Chase Farm, Ridgeway. Bill has massive charisma and leadership skills. The envisaged closure follows problems involved with the "Social Chapter" or European Workiing Directive, whereby medics can't work more than a set amount of hours per week. So to have a fully functioning A and E, is very expensive with three shifts of doctors, nurses etc. Also, to have an operational accident & emergency unit, the hospital needs a proper service for children
patients.

Other problems comprise British doctors liking 9-5 lifestyles, being money mad and lacking compassion.

There is also a concern over the "feminisation" of the doctor system. In the old days virtually all medics, who passsed their training, went on to become doctors. This percentage is getting lower. There is the suspicion that this is what the authorities want: cheaper women doctors like in Russia, where there are loads of them and they get paid at a discount rather than receive premium pay.

However, one advantage of the old (lets called it English) system of the 100 hours plus a week work total for junior doctors was that they learnt a lot in a very short time.

Apparently, there is statistical evidence that there are more
deaths in hospitals when a new cohort of doctors comes on aboard the merry ship called the National Health Service (NHS), (a service very different in Scotland and Wales). Also, it is not advisable to get ill
during the weekend when the consultants are practising their golf swing or have gone yachting.

To get the medical coverage with the working directive means the consolidation of Accident and Emergency services in bigger sites. This means doctors get wide experience of doing loads of operations etc (ie Portuguse health reorganisation) While often financially stable hospitals have in England been sacrificed to prop up PFI (Private Financial Initiative) disasters. (The entrance to Barnet General goes into a Holliday Inn style area while the car parking is a MAJOR HEADACHE).

So this makes for a paradox. Rather than being a tinsey weensy left wing (Workers Revolutionary Party WRP) wanting to smash the capitalist system and bring in revolution to sleepy old UK, picket guys like Phil, whose only defect I can see is that he is a Spurs fan, should really be
joining UKIP on the other side of the political spectrum so as to get out of the European Union. I have told Phil to worry less about Lenin and hope that Bale stays with Spurs.

I am personally a soft Tory but even I had a sneaking admiration for Old Labour like Woy Jenkins,
who could not keep his dick in his pants, or Denis Healey, who nearly drove the United Kingdom to bankruptcy with his ultra taxation policies. (Healey was a quartermaster on one of the major Italian beach invasions during WWII, so I suppose he was a war hero.)

The operation of a picket outside the main entrance for so long is testament to the organisational abilities of "Minder Bill from ASLEF". I have also met some really admirable people such as Bill from Elephant & Castle. Indeed one of the problems of the picket is the relative lack of people from Enfield. I suppose they are looking forward to going to North Middlesex and Royal Free, Hampstead.

The idea of superhospitals is seen in other countries like Portugal and I think I (and I could be mistaken)
came from consultants at an American investment bank. However, if you are dying from a heart attack near Chase Farm in future, you just hope the "blue light" ambulance makes it to the Harefield or the London Heart Hospital in time.

Sorry for the long blog but there must be a special mention to former Labour MP Joan Ryan, who
forced through a merger of the financially and operationally strong Chase Farm with the PFI mess of
Barnet General. However, I am really impressed by local Conservative MP Nick de Bois, who is trying his best to remedy the mess where a major borough like Enfield, with a growing population rate putting pressure on schools, is expected to provide some kind of medical access.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/mps-expenses/5336436/Joan-Ryan-expenses-switch-after-4500-spend.html
www.nickdebois.com

PS> The good old British National Health Service (NHS) lost literally billions on IT systems, which never meshed. While I read in one of the Mail newspapers an article that claimed the NHS chief might have been allegedly a bit naughty claiming 41 first class rail trips to Birmingham to bonk his bint.