Coconut shy

As Simon Gas’s convalescence enters its final week, the Muswell Hill Director of Football sent across the runners and riders for this Friday’s encounter at Coram Fields. This is what I came up with, through the fug of a monumental hangover, (incurred at Lord’s on Thursday) - 

Blues: Mario, Paul, Mick, Antonio (another Morgan Stanley recruit), Ian Baggies, Danny, Joseph (from Morgan Stanley), Will, me

Yellows: Yev, Geoff, Patrick, Andrew (yet another colleague of Simon’s at Morgan Stanley), Dan, Ian Cortina, Tony, Simon Ink

Ergo, nine plays eight. The fact that we had Geoff and Patrick arriving after seven ‘o’ clock meant Mick temporarily played in lieu of his son, switching from Yellow to Blue on the prodigal’s arrival. (Incidentally, Yev was on time, presumably in the interests of being obtuse).

There remained much rancour and disgruntlement at the perceived imbalance in numbers (and ability), although Geoff’s failure to appear on time slipped my mind so once he arrived the overall screech of complaint begun to subside. Slightly. 

Onto the match itself then, and the Blues always looked favourites thanks a) to having the extra man, b) the presence of Mario and Will and c) the fact that Antonio transpired to be a very useful player indeed. The Italian duo of Mario and Antonio were ably supplied by the metronomic midfield excellence of Will, who had a very effective game, as per. However, despite Tony’s noisy protestations the Yellows had the not inconsiderably potent attacking triumvirate of Yev and Patrick, as well as the Hampstead auteur himself. 

As for the goals, Mario probably got three (or four) - I can recall one volleyed in from close distance and also the final goal of the evening, which saw Mario round the keeper after pouncing on an agricultural clearance from myself and coolly passing home. Mick also got at least two, his final goal coming via a run from wide on the right which saw the fiscal journalist fire home from close range. And Antonio capped a fine debut with at least two goals. Hopefully Will also got the goal(s) his performance deserved, but my memory deserts me. 

I have a more complete recollection of the Yellows’ goals, partly because Patrick scored twice past me whilst I was in nets. His first goal was spanked over my head and despite pawing at it such was the pace on the ball that I couldn’t prevent it from going in. The second effort came after I’d saved Yev’s initial shot with my feet; the ball then fell to Patrick who smashed home the rebound from an acute angle inside the near post. Simon Gas, watching on behind the goal, commented that it looked as if I was in a coconut shy, which was a fairly accurate if not altogether encouraging bon mot. Yev, unsurprisingly, also got among the goals, as did Tony, with one fine effort seeing him scythe through the Blues’ defence from a restart and smash the ball home. All in all, not a terrible game, despite the grumbling. 

Final score: Blues 9 - Yellows 6

No pub for me this week; given that I’d been out on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday I thought it politic to retire for the evening to protect my rapidly ageing liver. 

I trust you enjoyed the long weekend; join us next Friday for an eve of Cup Final special.

Reverend Gas

Back to the action then, after a two week break from either playing or writing about football and during which I recovered from the shock of the General Election result by going to see the Super Furry Animals. Speaking of recoveries, Simon Gas failed to make one from his rib injury and as such my mantle as team-selector continued. The Bristolian soccer supremo elected to watch Friday’s game from the sidelines, rather like a kindly vicar watching the local urchins play on the local village green. Or possibly a FIFA mandarin on a Champions League jolly. (I prefer the former). 

And let the record show that the two teams were as thus:

Blues – Mario, Dan, Danny, Alan, Nick, Patrick, me, Bristol Paul, Ross

Yellows – Yev, Liam, Steve, Michele, James, David, Mick, Mark, Peter

Nine aside, as you can see. Shame that I didn’t, mind – we played the first five minutes with Nick on the wrong team, which meant that the Yellows had a two man advantage and they duly capitalised on their accidental numerical advantage, with James passing the ball into the bottom right hand corner of the ball with the outside if his right boot, for the first of a brace of goals. One nil to the Yellows. 

Once Alan had cottoned to the fact the teams were skew-whiff order was duly restored to the galaxy with Nick donning the correct attire (a Blue bib) and a close game ensued. The Yellows took a two nil lead through either Peter or Michele (making his Coram Fields debut), before the Blues started to get back in the game courtesy of some excellent link-up play between Mario, Patrick and Ross. I believe that Mario and Ross both got in amongst the goals, although I was stationed at the back for virtually all of the game, so I am reliant on the testimony of others here (thanks, Alan). I’m reliably informed that Alan himself was on the scoresheet, while Patrick may have grabbed a brace. I’m sure that Mick will be only too happy to confirm next week. 

Yev could have scored a hat-trick but had to settle for two – having managed to push a fierce shot onto the post I was powerless to prevent him from capitalising on an excellent centre from James whereupon he fizzed a shot just inside the post. James’ second goal came after a pinball-like passage of play that eventually saw him shoot just inside the post after the Blues’ defence had failed to clear. The final and winning goal came after the Blues were left horribly exposed at the back – I tried in vain to close down Liam (I was feeling slightly tender at the time, having taken a sharp knee in my Arris, which left me less mobile than usual), but the jinky forward slammed the ball square to Yev who couldn’t miss.

Final score: Blues 5 – Yellows 6

And so to the pub, where we drank al fresco while it remained light and then repaired to the interior having heard tales of Mick’s younger son’s Cup Final ticket being put in jeopardy by an unscrupulous imposter. The evening ended with a discussion surrounding the Skinners’ landlord’s recruitment policy as it pertained to his bar staff. Particularly the female members. 

Final thoughts of the weekend go to Simon and Paul, as they celebrate what I can only imagine was the most nerve shredding of play-off finals and look forward to seeing Bristol Rovers once more being a Football League side in 2015-16.  

Simons stricken by striking Scotsman

Another large turn-out at Coram Fields this week, although we were shorn of our spiritual leader and Chef de Mission, Monsieur Gaz, as he continued his recovery from Liam’s Nat Lofthouse-esque challenge last week. 

With the main man banjaxed with sore ribs, all of the usual football duties fell to his namesake, me. Here are the teams I eventually settled on:

Oranges and Yellows: Tony, Bristol Paul, James, Dan, Simon Ink, me, Charlie, Nick and Mick

Blues: Steve, Will, Danny, Paul, Ian Cortina, David, Liam, Patrick, Mark and Alan

Play got underway relatively promptly and the game soon fell into a consistent pattern, with the Blues looking the more dangerous once they broke, with Liam and Patrick terrorising the Yellows’ thin line of defence. The team in citrus coloured bibs were seeing plenty of the ball, largely courtesy of some decent passing between Tony, James and Nick, but lacked penetration and repeatedly found the Blues defence well organised and difficult to break down. That said, the game was stuck at 1-0 to the Blues for around the first twenty minutes; I forget who opened the scoring.

Tony equalised for the Blues, but soon after Danny surged forward down the left and spotted Mick off his near post and passed the ball home to restore the Blues lead; thereafter the Yellow and Oranges never looked seriously like getting back in the game. Charlie had to leave the field having been felled by a trademark reducer from Steve, at which juncture we took man-of-the-moment Mark to make the teams even at nine apiece. 

The Blues went on to score four more goals however, with Patrick and Liam getting in on the act, Liam’s goal coming after spinning his marker and firing home. Speaking of Liam he managed to crash his elbow into my eye socket, the principle effect of which was to permanently dislodge my contact lens, which made for a slightly trippy rest of the evening, as I had a kind of fuzzy split vision. Tony got one back for the Yellows just before we were ushered off by the man with the whistle. Given Simon's injury last week, I'd suggest that Simon Ink wears body armour next time out.

Final score: Yellows 2 – Blues 6

Less excitement at the Skinners this week, as there was no online auction to be distracted by. Conversation oscillated between the upcoming general election and the relative merits (or otherwise) of the main protagonists, girls at Ian’s school, Liverpool’s prospects between now and the end of the season and the fact that according to most people there’d be very few people playing next week. Or at least that’s what they said when I asked them if they could wash the bibs. 

Hopefully this will prove to be untrue, but one thing I can say for sure is that I’ll definitely be away next Friday, so see you all in two weeks.