Mystery Woman

And so, it begins again. After a late Summer break that took in the Commonwealth Games, the back end of the cricket season and the sensational revelation that Harry Potter is a Spizzenergi fan, the curtain pulls open once more on the Coram Fields football season.

A very respectable turn-out for the first Friday back saw some eighteen men take to the field. Simon Gas pre-selected the following sides for the inaugural match of the 2014/15 campaign:

Blues – me, Steve, Ian West Brom, Mick, Mick’s son Patrick (once they’d arrived), Nick, Simon Ink, Spizz, 

Yellows – Simon Gas, Bristol Paul, Mario, Yev, Ross, Ian Gooner, Danny, specialist goalkeeper Phil

If those teams look a bit unbalanced, it’s because they were. The first ten minutes of the game were played without Yev, Mick and Patrick, meaning the Blues were two men short – Ian Gooner was duly drafted across to rebalance the teams pending the arrival of the Kavanaghs. Unfortunately, in addition to being a man down the Blues were soon two goals behind, although by the time the perennially late Yev had arrived the score was 2-1 to the Yellows, Simon Ink coming out of goal and grabbing one back.

For the next fifteen minutes or so the game was reasonably even, although given that me and Ian Baggies were trying to mark Yev and Mario the writing was very much on the wall. The turning point in the game came when the Blues tried to play out from the back, with the ball being rolled out to Nick in the left back position. Nick was immediately pressed by the Yellows and ill-advisedly tried to square the ball across the penalty area for Mick on the far side. Sadly, the ball - pumped up, Simon Gas-style, to the point of explosion – slammed into Steve’s solar plexus, winding him, and Danny had the simple task of collecting the ball and passing it into the corner to make it 3-1 to the Yellows.

With Steve’s eyes streaming and his mouth still gasping for air like a salmon on the riverbank, the Blues’ defensive shape went for a Burton and the Yellows rattled in two more goals in quick succession – Mario got both, the first a rifled finish into the corner from wide on the right and the next one a real party piece, as he stopped the ball and then lifted it with his toes up into the air and gently into the goal, serenely gliding in under the bar. From 5-1 down there was no let up.

I believe Mario went on to score around nine goals, although Yev was also involved; one of his goals was a fierce effort that went under two defenders and away from Ian in nets. I can’t remember too much about the others. Ian Gooner - taking up what might be charitably called the goal hanging position – was also on the scoresheet, as was Danny, who scored from a tight angle late on when it looked as if the ball had gone out from a corner.

Simon Ink did score two more for the Blues, one of them a fine goal following a mazy run direct from one of thirteen separate restarts. The ending was a blessed relief, with none of the machinations which marked the end of the 13/14 campaign as another group of footballers took to the field at 8.00 pm precisely. Danny managed to lose a ball with a shanked shot that cleared both the fence and the wall of the chapel directly behind the goal, while Spizz also managed to clear the perimeter fence at the death. 

Final score: Yellows 13 (Thirteen), Blues 3

A relatively balmy London night saw a decent turn out of al fresco drinkers at the Skinners Arms. There was much talk of the possibility of Caledonian secession from the union – the consensus seeming to be that this would be a Bad Thing – and Spizz was hawking his latest single (available on very fetching clear red vinyl – for the eye watering price of £6, or £7 for a signed copy. Ian Gooner duly grabbed one for his brother. Bargain.

In other news, the pretty Polish barmaid has, tragically, got engaged to an Australian. And as the evening grew old, a lone German lady washed up outside the pub, perplexingly unable of entering what is, let’s face it, a very respectable establishment without reassurance that nothing untoward lay within. Mick gallantly leapt into action, and as the number of players enjoying a post-match pint dwindled Mick remained steadfastly in his chair, chatting away to the Fraulein about all matters Teutonic, sharing tales of Dusseldorf. If he was making romantic overtures any success would be all the more remarkable for the fact he hadn’t showered after the game and was happily ploughing through the pints clad entirely in a virginal white football kit.

A full report – a post post-match report, if you will – should be available next week. Until then…