The Wisdom of Solomon

An altogether less eventful match report to write up this week, (thank goodness), with a great game of football being won with the last kick of the ball by the odd goal in eleven. After last week’s team selection fandango Danny and Steve took turns to pick two sides and came up with the following:

Blues: Danny, Daniel, Mick, David, Ross, Paul, Bristol Paul, Yev: and a young ringer named Solomon

Yellows: Steve, Tony, Patrick, Mark, Nick, Ian Baggies, me, Phil, Simon Ink

The ranks of both sides swelled considerably within the first five minutes as Kavanagh Senior and Junior were joined by the similarly tardy arrivals from Yev and Phil. As you will have just read, a predictably skilful young ringer named Solomon was also permitted to play.

With the playing surface treacherously greasy there was ample scope for goalkeeping errors and Simon Ink, usually the very epitome of safe hands, and Ian Baggies both came a cropper early on as the Blues took advantage with some speculative long range efforts. How I didn’t manage to concede during my error-strewn stint in goal is quite the mystery. For the Yellows, Patrick and Phil were holding the ball up deftly and were aided by a characteristically energetic display from Nick who sought to burst through left midfield and link up with the front two. Mark and I took turns wide on the right to try, without huge success it must be said, to curtail the creative and energetic promptings of young Solomon, who proved a real handful all evening and probably the difference between the two sides. Mind you, he was slightly more subdued following a muscular ‘reducer’ from Steve, who was clearly fed up with his various step-overs and jinking runs. 

Meanwhile the Blues were lead up front by Yev and Ross, with Mick joining them from right midfield and duly bagging a brace, (in fact before I go any further I should record that the two Kavanagh men grabbed five of the evening’s eleven goals). Daniel was his usual tricksy self in the middle of the park and the game ebbed and flowed with almost no antagonism or controversy. I saw almost as Tony initially refused to go and retrieve the ball having skied it over the fence and trudged off most reluctantly, which temporarily side-lined Solomon as we sought to keep the numbers on the field reasonably even.

The Yellows were behind by the odd goal for the majority of the game but they eventually managed to get back to five each which set up a grandstand finale as both teams committed too many people forward. Having failed to score from a series of corners the Yellows watched forlornly as the ball broke to Solomon who skinned everyone remaining in a Yellow bib down the right and centred for Mick to steer home the winner from just inside the area. 

Final score: Blues 6 – Yellows 5

I eschewed the joys of the Skinners Arms for once this week as I had a very big night out planned on Saturday: Carter the Unstoppable SexMachine’s “Final Comedown” valedictory performance at Brixton Academy. Normal boozing service should be resumed on Friday.

Goodness Gracious Me

Last Friday saw the departure of our Dear Leader and redoubtable spiritual guide through the turbulence of Friday night football as he ascended to the skies bound for South America and the delights of Chile. In his stead was the dependable presence of Danny as bursar, key collector and all-round organiser -a Sergeant Wilson to Simon’s Captain Mainwaring, if you will.

Danny came up with the wizard idea of asking two people to act as captains and pick the teams, in the same way we used to do at school, but with the fairly hefty caveat that the selection would be in done in secret to avoid embarrassment. Ross and I duly went through the list of people scheduled to play and picked the following two teams. (I won’t give that much away except to say that Ross won the toss and went first, fatefully making Mario his first pick).

Yellows: me, Danny, Alan, Daniel, Phil, Simon Ink*, Bristol Paul*, Zack (I’ve checked with Alan and I believe I have remembered his name correctly) 

Blues: Ross, Mario, Carlo, Tony, Andy, Ian Baggies, Ian Gooner, Paul ‘The Guvnor’, Mark

Unfortunately, best laid plans and all that, neither Bristol Paul nor Simon Ink turned up. As this would have meant six versus nine, I took the decision to pick one more player from the ranks of the assembled Blues - I went for Carlo.

This meant that the two teams looked like this:

Yellows: me, Danny, Alan, Daniel, Phil, Carlo, Zack

Blues: Ross, Mario, Tony, Andy, Ian Baggies, Ian Gooner, Paul ‘The Guvnor’, Mark

The Blues still had the man advantage, but it looked a bit more even. This, in retrospect, is a controversial statement as it soon became clear from the cacophony of noise emanating from the Blues’ ranks that several people felt that the two sides were unevenly balanced; without dwelling too much on the aforementioned team selection Ross went for a Keeganesque approach with plenty of firepower (himself, Tony and Mario) while I went for a more cautious George Graham / Jose Mourinho strategy and as a result ended up with more defenders. Not that it felt like that at first, as Danny started in goal and on several occasions I found myself the only man back, gamely trying to get a foot in to prevent certain (and easy) goals. 

However, my late swoop for Carlo proved a shrewd move, as he was all over the scoresheet, ably assisted by Alan with a goal that was given the eyebrows by Phil (© Ron Atkinson) and nodded in by the genial Dubliner. The Yellows had eased into a three goal lead before Tony spanked one from around twenty yards out that I thought I’d tipped over the bar only to realise I was well off my line and that all I’d done was take the pace off the shot so that it plopped in under the bar. The Yellows immediately went up the other end and made it 4-1 and by this stage the complaining about the teams had reached fever pitch. 

Several offers to switch players were made – Mario offered to swap, presumably in a bid to get the Yellows a twenty-plus goal advantage – but while the arguments raged on, play eventually stopped after two more goals to the Yellows (making it 6-1) as tempers boiled over. Ross allegedly said something to Mario that he took exception to and we then had the extraordinary spectacle of Mario clawing Ross’s back and slapping him in the face. As people moved over to try and calm the situation it became evident that Mario was in no mood to be placated and he duly left the pitch and the game..

We jiggled the sides around – Carlo went from Yellow to Blue, as did, I think, Danny – and the second of the evening’s games finished with another tennis score - 6-2 - this time to the Blues.

At this stage, with the evening in serious danger of descending into farce, we had another radical overhaul of the two teams and the final game was something like 4-2 to the Yellows.

Carlo bagged around 75% of the evening’s goals, while Danny managed to finish on three winning teams, (no mean feat). Honourable mentions go to Ian Gooner, who snaffled a brace, one by spotting his namesake from the West Midlands slightly wrong-footed in goal and calmly passing it beyond him, and the second with a slightly effete flick that diverted the ball past the ‘keeper from all of around six yards out. Danny was also among the scorers, one coming from a typically powerful run down the right following a dinked pass from myself. And Phil did his usual sterling work of holding the ball up with his cultured left foot and feinting past the Blues’ defenders.

And so to the pub, where we were joined by a jovial Yev who was suitably agog at the news of the earlier contretemps. With Senor Gasolina away we awaited news of any possible disciplinary action and the evening’s conversation turned to other matters, such as Andy’s looming half century and details of an exclusive day out at Bramall Lane in the New Year. I left the Skinners just after half ten as Alan tried to persuade me and Ian that the solution to Arsenal’s travails in the transfer market would be to spend all the money we have and contravene UEFA’s Financial Fair Play rules, which is nothing if not bold.

Here’s hoping for a more mundane match report this weekend. I’ll leave with you the above image of more an example of more convivial Anglo-Italian relations aswell as a link to the best World Cup song ever.

Arts for art’s sake?

Another Friday, another week, another glut of goals, another slew of incidents, another game, another few pints. Another blog.

Friday 31^st October, All Hallow’s Eve, and Association Football Organiser-In-Chief picked two ten (!) aside teams, (Yev’s customary late arrival notwithstanding). 

The two sides lined up as follows –

Blues: Bristol Paul, Ian Baggies, Mick, Steve, me, Mario, Daniel, Carlos, Alan, Ross

Yellows: Simon Gas, Alex, Yev*, Mark, Danny, Paul, Spizz, Will, Nick, Andy

As you can see, plenty of people on the pitch and with space at a premium neither side looked likely to ship the kind of tennis scores we habitually see week in, week out at Coram Fields.

Simon Gas – shockingly, improbably, unbelievably, not on the winning team for the first time this term – opted once again to allow all three Italian gentlemen to play on the same side and this Azzuri trio (appropriately dressed in Blues bibs) dominated possession in the final third, aided and abetted by Mick. That they were occasionally guilty of over-elaborating is perhaps forgivable given that there were trying to break down around eight or nine defenders at any one time. The Blues’ had a strong defensive pairing of Bristol Paul and Steve, who was lucky not to have suffered from concussion given that he had to head away the reserve ball, (more of which anon) which had been characteristically pumped up to the point of explosion by Simon Gas. They were slightly less secure in midfield as the defensive cadre were somewhat isolated by the veritable carnival of soft shoed players up front, a space that Nick, Will and Alex ran into time and again for the Yellows. Will was cleverly stretching the play as the Blues’ defenders tried to track the runs of not just Spizz and Will himself, but also Yev. It was from one such devastating run down the wing that Yev cut the ball back from the by-line for an easy tap in. 

The Blues three goals came courtesy of Mario, Ross and A N Other, Ross’s effort being the most memorable as he controlled the ball from around twenty yards out and spanked a volley that Simon Gas in goal could only partially parry, the vicious spin on the ball doing for him and providing the fifth and ultimately winning goal. 

Now in a new feature we look at the number of footballs shanked over both the crossbar and the fence and into the surrounding locale. I’m calling this One Flew Over The Pigeon’s Nest

Number of balls hoiked over the fence: two 

Offenders: Mario and Spizz. (Both balls were successfully retrieved).

Final score: – Blues 3 - Yellows 2

Another good turn-out at the Skinners this week, in what turned into an evening long debate about the whys and wherefores of paying for music versus getting it for nothing. I’ll have a go at summarising the various stances taken by said contributors – 

Mick: until 100 years ago people played music for fun, so why should people expect to be paid for it now?

Me: if you want decent music, expect to pay for it – people need time to create great art without the exhausting and draining demands of working life

Alan: Coldplay are everyone’s seventh favourite band [they’re not]

Spizz: if you flew five plumbers to California would you expect one of them to fix your pipes? [I have literally no idea what this might mean, but surely the answer to that question is ‘yes’]

Ross: record companies are evil and were only interested in making money. The internet means that everyone can make and distribute music, regardless of how much money they do or do not have. 

Thankfully Yev came to the rescue and bought everyone some more beer. Well played, Yev.

I’m not around next Friday owing to a looming West Country visit, so see you in a fortnight, when our leader travels to Chile to sip wine and upset the locals with offensive number plates.