Christmas Cracker

First of all, many apologies for the delay in posting this, the final match report of 2014 – a combination of snot, Christmas preparations, snot, visiting family, more snot, watching football, yet more snot, yet more family, yet more watching football and even more snot has postponed publication for the past week. Here goes…

The last game of the year was a fine match, with plenty of goals and talking points. Simon Gas selected the following two teams – 

Yellows: Specialist Goalkeeper Phil, Ian Gooner, Simon Gas, Steve, Ross, Will, Paul ‘The Guv’nor’, Patrick

Blues: Mick, Yev, Dave, Danny, me, Simon Ink, Mark, Spizz, Andy

Yev broke the habit of a lifetime and was almost on time, meaning that Simon Ink was the sole late arrival. 

The Yellows, as you can see from the line-ups, had plenty of legs and vim in midfield in the shapes of Will and particularly young Patrick and before Simon Ink’s tardy arrival the Blues were three down. With a total of around sixteen goals to get through you’ll forgive me if I cannot recall every single score, (especially after a hiatus of eight days), but one of the Yellows’ first three goals came from a very tight angle despite the attentions of Dave at right back. Simon’s arrival saw Danny, resplendent in a Father Christmas costume, leave goal and a swift reversal in the Blues’ fortunes duly followed, with Spizz unleashing a spectacular opener for the Blues from around fifteen yards that showed that punk’s not dead, it’s just older, with gout.  

With the scores at 3-1 came the game’s first controversial incident when Will ballooned the ball over the bar and promptly left the pitch to retrieve it, as is the custom.  As the eagle eyed of you may have spotted, this left the Yellows with a (temporary) two man deficit. This mismatch in personnel incensed Ian, but his loud and lengthy protestations only served to disrupt the Yellows’ shape and the Yellows had drawn level through Yev and Mick before Will returned to the fray.

Ian simmered down, but only briefly, as around five minutes later the ball once again sailed miles over the rear fence – Steve was the culprit this time. Such was the vehemence of Ian’s angst the first time that the teams were left unbalanced by the departure of one of the Yellows that this time Mark was offered as an interim makeweight while Steve scampered off to fetch the ball. Unfortunately, this did not make Ian happy either, as he now opined that there was ‘no point’ in having Mark’s services, even though this balanced the numbers up at seven each. You can’t please all of the people all of the time.

The Blues’ dominance continued, with Mick and Yev wreaking havoc in and amongst the Yellows’ doughty defence; while the Yellows had plenty of the ball through Ross, Will and Patrick, the Blues managed to get enough bodies back to close down space and restrict the Yellows as much as possible.

There now follows a stream of consciousness style report of other notable incidents that I had the prescience to make note of last week. (Imagine someone reading this to you as you come around on the settee after two bottles of wine and a lorry load of cheese)…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

..I [Simon Gooner] let one in over my head whilst in goal, as I thought it was going over the bar…. Managed to save from a header from Ross despite Spizz screaming at me… Simon Ink fouled Will with his right thigh… Liam turned up at the pub despite his injury…honourable mention to Paul who did some sterling work wide on the right… more goals for Yev, Mick…. Ian still not happy…

The 2014 Christmas do took place in Smithy’s, a bizarre wannabe-hipster haunt somewhere near King’s Cross that I’d struggle to ever find again. Simon Gas had commandeered a corner of the bar that was full of Christmas drinkers by the time we arrived, although Simon managed to clear them away with customary élan. (Oddly, one of them asked me if we were in a band. If only Spizz had made it). A veritable cornucopia of deep fried carbohydrates duly arrived to slake our post-match hunger – faux sausage rolls, goujons, houmous and flat bread, mini burgers, samosas, pakoras and the like and other cheesy comestibles. 

Happily, Ian relented from his post-match funk and joined the other Christmas revellers for the night. My conversations revolved around Kim Kardashian’s arse, and the general demarcation of 2014 as rear of the ‘Arris, a 21^st century reappraisal of Blazing Saddles and, with Mick and Ian, a discussion about how people work longer hours and more arduous ones than at any time since the war and what this means for those of us who’ll be working well past our last sixties.

And with that, I hope you all had a suitably marvellous Christmas. See you all back on Friday week for the first game of 2015. 

Happy Late December / Early January

Taking Care of Business

Friday saw the return of Muswell Hill’s answer to Phileas Fogg as Simon Gas was back again and taking care of business. His three week sojourn in the Americas had left us with what turned out to be an eventful interregnum and it was good to bring some sort of ballast back to proceedings. These are the teams he picked – 

Blue: Mick, Patrick, Dave, Daniel, me, Paul, Yev, Nick

Yellow: Simon Gas, Tony, Vitali, Will, Ian Gooner, Phil, Danny, Simon Ink

As is custom, the two Kavanagh men arrived slightly late, (the younger later than the elder), while Yev and his compatriot Vitali arrived just after kick off. Still, two decent eight aside teams there.

I started off in goal for the Blues and we were three nil down quite quickly. The first came from a free kick, with no-one picking up Tony; I believe that Phil grabbed the second and Will scored the third, with a calmly passed shot into the bottom right hand corner. I’d knacked my right thumb by this stage by tipping a typically fierce shot from Phil over the bar, (this is what happens when there are no gloves and the temperature is just above zero).

At this stage a fearful shellacking looked like a distinct possibility, but Mick brought some organisational nous to the Blues and along with his son and the attacking prowess of Yev the Yellows slowly got back into the game. Trouble was that despite Yev’s goals the Yellows were always playing catch up and although we got back to within two or three of the Yellows, it never looked likely that we’d get back on terms, let alone take the lead. 

Will, Phil and Vitali proved a real handful, with all three breaking from deep and switching sides, which left myself and Dave with a headache in terms of knowing which man to track. Things did improve with Nick and Mick alternately dropping deeper and over time the yawning chasm in the middle of the field, which had hitherto been dominated by the Yellows, was more evenly contested.

I am trying to recall more of the evening’s eleven goals – Yev got at least two of the four Blue goals, one a nice header from a deft cross, and Vitali may have bagged a hat-trick – but to be honest all I can really remember is a chance that a tetraplegic terrapin with its fins stapled together could have scored but I have somehow contrived to steer wide of the post from a distance of about five yards. As Vitali said, it was a “100% chance”. I found the missing 0%. Soon after I steered a header onto bar when I should have got more forehead than crown on it, which capped off a relatively miserable evening.

Still, good game and all that – Final Score: Yellows 7, Blues 4

And onto the pub, where, as feared, we have arrived in the demi-monde of the Christmas Party. There was a veritable carnival of herbertry in the Skinners on Friday as two separate groups of drinkers out on works do’s happened to support different Scottish football teams and after around two hours of foreplay there was eventually a minor contretemps that was swiftly and expertly snuffed out by the landlord who, being of Caledonian extraction himself, had probably seen this sort of thing a hundred times in the past. 

The drunk and angry blokes then departed into the December night to be replaced by some bearded hipsters and some other younger people and as the clock pushed past eleven we all enjoyed the advent of the Christmas drinking season, (pun intended). Mick, Ian, Yev, Vitali and myself shared some English, Irish and Russian jokes, while I demonstrated my peerless skill at accents and impressions with a rendition of the traditional Ukrainian mating cry, much to Yev and Vitali’s delight. We also had a tremendous anecdote from Vitali from the very frontline of the Ukrainian secessionist struggle.  

I’m off to try and relive more of my youth next week, as NewModel Army are playing The Forum, so see you in two weeks for the 2014 Coram Fields Christmas Party.

Vampires in Forest Gate?

The last Friday of November and just three games left now before we finish up for 2014. Blimey. As December and all the Christmas hullabaloo awaits, Danny and Steve had a go at picking the teams, and very well they did too. These two defensive titans obviously fancied a challenge and duly picked two teams that very much represented defence versus attack, viz

Yellows: Steve, Danny, Daniel, Alan, Bristol Paul, Tony, me

Blues: Alex, Will, Ross, Ian Baggies, Ian Gooner, Paul, Simon Ink, Nick

Two teams of seven(ish) aside, then, with plenty of space and lots of running necessary. As you may expect, the Blues dominated possession over the course of the game, with Nick, Alex and Will having a ball, literally and metaphorically, in midfield. However, perhaps predictably, they found it much more difficult when the ball arrived at the Yellows’ penalty area, with Tony, Bristol Paul and Steve providing wonderful protection for Danny in goal (initially), and then myself when I took the gloves. Alan was typically effervescent, switching between attack and defence and Daniel bringing some class to proceedings up front. 

The first goal took some time to arrive and was rather direct; following twenty minutes or so of seemingly constant Blues’ pressure I took a goal kick and put some back spin on the ball as it sailed toward Danny. He controlled it, took it around one defender and chipped it over the ‘keeper’s head. The Yellows scored another two fairly soft goals following some scruffy goalkeeping, but all the while the Blues threatened to overrun the Yellows in midfield. 

As the Yellows rope-a-dope tactics continued, there was one almighty let off when I charged down a cross from Nick only to see it balloon up in the air. Rather than heading it clear or hacking it away I attempted to play it away only to pass it straight into Simon Ink’s path, who’s finishing failed him. Alex did get one back for the Blues playing some pretty one-twos with Will, but although they briefly threatened to overturn the score line at 3-2 the Blues managed to keep scoring at the other end – Tony finished off a lovely move with a fine header from Alan’s cross and Alan himself made amends for an extraordinary miss early in the game with two cool finishes later on following some calm inter-passing between himself and Daniel. 

Not too much needle this week, although Tony did brand Simon Ink a “complete arse” after he stubbed his toe on Simon’s foot in a 50:50; there was also a disputed free kick call that resulted in Alex swearing at Steve who promptly punted the ball as hard as he could and into the side of the unsuspecting Daniel’s face. Other than these minor skirmishes, there was only the age-old row about playing on past eight ‘o’ clock, which raged for around four minutes before the next set of players came on.

Final score: Yellows 5 – Blues 3

And so the pub, which was happily still clear of any Christmas drinkers. A very decent turn out considering the low numbers playing; Tony, the two Pauls, Ian and ultimately Simon Ink enjoyed a lively discussion about art, art house cinema directors (Ken Loach and Mike Leigh), raising children, Premier League football and  (I kid you not), rapist vampires in Forest Gate. 

Until next week, and the return of the West Country conquistador himself, Senor Gas.