Up the Malabar Junction

Many apologies for the delay in posting this final Spizzenergi football blog of 2013; a combination of general bleariness, weariness and dark mornings has prevented me from feeling any sense of what the hip hop community call ‘flow’, but here’s hoping that the notes which I made earlier this week don’t let me down.

The penultimate Friday night game of the year saw a decent turn out, no doubt in part because of the curry favoured carrot dangling at the evening’s end. Simon picked the following sides to do footballistic battle:

Blue Bibs: me, Mick, Sam, Mark, Tony (for a while), Yev, Bristol Paul, Ian Baggies

Yellow Bibs: Steve, Danny, Simon Gas, Ian Arsenal, Ross, Simon Ink, Spizz, Geoff

Spizz has played far more often than he would have us have believed (does that make sense?) earlier in the season and marked the evening with a sparkling pair of new New Rocks (yours for £115) and some eyeliner. Punk’s not dead, it’s just growing old (dis)gracefully. Fortunately, he also remembered his football boots this week.

As Christmas plans were discussed in the changing rooms, Steve was among those not able to come along for the curry, as he was flying to Scotland the next day to see Ayr take on Rangers at Ibrox.

“Who are flying with?”, enquired Yev.

“Susan”, deadpanned Steve.

I’m Susan, come fly me indeed.

Pre-match pleasantries out of the way, the game began with, I think, Spizz opening the scoring courtesy of some generous defending from the Blues and a lucky ricochet. The Blues then replied to make it one apiece, probably from Yev or Tony, before Simon Ink smashed an effort high over my head and in just under the crossbar to make it 2-1 to the Yellows. 

The game was fairly even at this stage, with Tony and Yev proving a predictably potent attacking force for the Blues while the Yellows had a very solid defensive shape marshalled by Simon Gas, Steve and Danny. With the scores level at something like two-all, Tony joined the recent ranks of the hamstrung (hello, Alex and Phil) and had to leave the field – this left the Blues heavily reliant on Mick’s cultured midfield promptings with Yev ploughing a lonely furrow up front.

An honourable mention must go to the prodigal Sam Dargan, who made only his second appearance at Coram Fields since The Great Switch earlier this year. Domesticity and fatherhood have had little or no effect on his rangy and committed footballing style, (or on his waistline, the bastard).

With a man advantage following Tony’s departure the Yellows, lead up front by Ross and Spizz, buzzed around the Blues’ tiring legs and eventually stretched their lead beyond the Yellows’ reach. Yev did get the score back to within a goal after I’d deftly threaded a ball to him, but despite some cheeky near post corners from Mick that I flicked goalwards the Yellows managed to clear everything away. Yev scored one more goal, which came seconds after he’d missed a far easier opportunity from a distance of about three yards, larruping the ball hard against the crossbar.

I believe that the final score was 6-4 to the Yellows – you’ll have to forgive my forgetfulness, as owing to a late collision with Steve and his sharpened elbows, which winded me for the first time since 1987, my memory of the final few minutes of the game is slightly sketchy.

And so to the pub and then the Malabar Junction Curry House, where the following players sat down to enjoy 24 big crisps, assorted sundries and mains as well as 24 bottles of beer:

Simon Gas, me, Simon Ink, Danny, Yev, Ian Arsenal, Sam, Ian Baggies, Geoff, Ross, Bristol Paul, Mark

Simon very appropriately sat at the head of table and kindly ordered a veritable smorgasbord of side dishes and generally kept things from getting too lairy. Most importantly, he very kindly stumped up for the lion’s share of the bill, which only serves to reinforce his Prince among men status.

There is one more game on the 20^th December before we have a mid-season Winterval, resuming action on Friday 10^th January 2014.

Merry Christmas, one and all.

Dead leaves and the Dirty Ground

Last Friday’s game saw us play on the unfamiliar confines of the near pitch, i.e. the one closest to the changing rooms, on a surface that was strewn with dead leaves as the year 2013 rots to its inexorable conclusion.

The man from Bristol picked the following two teams -

Blue Bibs: Tony, Paul (following an early switch), Ian Gooner, Bristol Paul, Simon Gas, Yev (eventually), Will, Steve, Andy

Yellow Bibs: Danny, Ross (following an early switch), David, Simon Ink, Ian Baggies, Mick, Alan, me,

The ‘early switch’ to which I refer was a consequence of the Blues galloping into a two goal lead as the Yellows saw precious little of the ball in the early stages. With Danny taking the first shift in goal and the Blues starting the game with a frontline including Tony and Ross, (with Will and Steve pulling strings in midfield – Ian Baggies opined to me that the problem with Will isthat he is “too tricky”) - Simon swapped Paul and Ross with the score at 2-0 to the Blues.  

I’d relieved Danny in goal by this stage and was able to see Simon Ink complete a passage of play that saw the Yellows fail to score on a number of occasions during a frantic six yard box scramble by collecting the ball on the edge of the area and sailing a shot into the top corner to bring the score back to 2-1. Mick, who was stationed menacingly on the right touch line and David were working well in combination and created a goal for Alan and then one for David himself as the Yellows went ahead to lead 3-2. My tenure in nets ended with Tony firing a beautiful shot high over my head and into the top right corner to make it three apiece.

With David and Mick trying to keep their feet on the decaying arboreal matter on the right wing both players endeavoured to bring Alan and Ross into play and their hard work brought the Blues – and Alan – another goal. Around this time Yev arrived and as the Yellows were in front and bossing possession he duly donned a Blue bib. With a man advantage and with Yev’s strength and running the impetus swung back to the Blues, although the scores were level at 4-4 for much of the final quarter of the match. Yev eventually got his goal –the winning effort – as tired legs failed to pick up all of the Blues’ runners to make it 5-4.

At this point there was what can only be described as some Dave Aiton-esque gamesmanship from Simon Gas and Tony, who seemingly forgot that we kicked off at 7.05 and ended the match in any meaningful way by taking off their bibs and gathering the one remaining ball up (the other football had been shanked over the fence and beyond a security cordon by Ian Baggies, doughtily defending a corner). We ought to have had another few minutes, but with players taking off Bibs and walking off the pitch the game petered out, despite there being no-one waiting to come on. Five-four to the Blues it finished.

The two Ians, Simon Ink, Alan and myself then went to retrieve the ball. The Ians sensibly decided to go and speak to the Security guard responsible for manning the fence beyond which the ball sat, so despite me managing to stretch my arm underneath the fence and roll the ball toward us we made like Lou Reed and decided to wait for the man. Happily, he was a Gooner and the presence of three Arsenal fans was sufficient justification for him to throw the ball over the fence (at Alan, resplendent in his Chelsea kit).

And so to the pub. Simon Gas attempted to make a booking for the end of year Christmas curry, but sadly the restaurant was closed for a refurb. No word on an alternative venue as yet.     

I spent most of the evening in conversation with Alan and Ian (Gooner), with topics ranging from Tottenham’s implosion against Man City and the whys and wherefores of their recent transfer activity, to the health benefits of taking public transport to work versus driving to an office where you sit on your arse for eight hours, before Ian regaled us with talk of his activist youth, where he was frequently mistaken for a right-wing neo-fascist. That he often turned up at rallies sporting a shaven head, DMs and a Fred Perry shirt teamed with a Harrington jacket may or may not be an explanation.