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.
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