Waiting for Yev

At the end of another working week we received the early news that Super Mario was feeling anything but super. As he’d taken the bibs the previous Friday this left me with the difficult situation of picking two teams whilst being unable to predict with any degree of accuracy which colours they’d be wearing. 

Happily, the seemingly endless cornucopia of football and non-football ephemera that Coram Fields have in stock – we should try looking for Lord Lucan in their stores; he’d probably be in there sitting astride Shergar – turned up a bag of gaily coloured citrus bibs and the crisis was averted.

But wait! Who’s this coming into the changing room? Why, it’s Professor Alex, wizard of the Potteries. This unheralded arrival prompted Simon Gas to decide to stand down and play in his supersub role. 

However, having lined up the two teams there seemed to be a consensus that the two teams were unbalanced and I duly insisted on Simon Gas swelling the ranks of the Blues team, so that nine played eight. After all that kerfuffle, these were the two teams:

Yellows: me, Peter, Jaime, Danny, Antonio, Charlie, Alex and Steve

Blues (i.e. not Yellows): Ian Gooner, Callum, Joseph, Mick, Patrick, specialist goalkeeper Ed, Vitaly, Tony - and Simon

Despite the misgivings of Tony in particular, the ‘Blues’, clad in a variety of non-citrus colours, proved to be more than a match for the Yellow team and roared into a three goal lead inside ten minutes. Callum managed to nip in front of me to fire past Danny in goal, before Patrick then bagged a brace, the second elegantly steered into the bottom corner from just outside the area. By this stage I had replaced Danny in goal for the Yellows and his introduction began to galvanise the Yellow team and they duly got a goal back via a header from Peter.

Tony had left the field by this stage with a twanged hamstring and so we reverted to eight aside. I felt that the Yellows had enough firepower and guile to go and win the game, but Mick’s ceaseless barking at the back helped marshal the Blues’ defence so despite the Yellows having much of the possession they found it difficult to create clear-cut chances. With specialist goalkeeper Ed also in play the Yellows’ task was that bit harder, although he did let in a howler as the ball ran under his foot and trickled into the net. 3-2 to the Blues.

The Blues had some fairly decent players of their own, however, particularly Callum and young Patrick and they combined to set up Ian Gooner, who pinged home an unerring finish to score the fourth goal for the Blues. Antonio brought the scores back within one goal of parity with a lovely finish on what looked to be his ‘wrong’ foot, but that was good as it got for the Yellows and for all their pleasing interplay and passing moves they ran out of steam.

Final score: Yellows 3 – Blues 4

With the egg chasing on television at the pub space was at a premium, but there was sufficient room for me, Ian and Steve to discuss issues such as the European referendum and the rites of passage for young men wishing to call on father’s daughters, something Steve has had recent experience with. 

We left Vitaly, who didn’t score on the night, but managed to hit the ball so hard he’s bruised my ring finger, awaiting the arrival of Yev, who at 10.00 pm showed no sign of turning up – given his track record for time-keeping I’ve no confidence that he managed to link up with his compatriot before closing time. 

Until next week…

From the Banks of the Jordan

After a two week gap caused by a malarial-like bout of ‘flu, the blog returns with details of last Friday’s game and attendant post-match discussion in the Skinners.

Here are the line-ups, with hearty welcome backs for two prodigal Pauls: one, Tanner of the Antarctic, who has been Gone for Some Time and two, Bristol Paul, who returns after a vicious row with a push-bike. The latter seems no worse for his medical sojourn and like his fellow Gashead Simon was positively giddy at the prospect of Bristol Rovers being taken over by a delegation from Jordan. What could possibly go wrong?

Blues:  Ian Gooner, Joseph, Nick, Mick, Bristol Paul, Alan, Tony and Mario

Yellows: Me, Paul ‘Captain’ Oates, David, Michele, Simon Gas, Danny, Patrick and Alex

And so the game started. The Blues took the lead through someone or other*, before the Yellows equalised via a man and at this stage of the match things were relatively equal. However, after I took my turn in goal from David things rather fell apart at the back for the Yellows in a calamitous five or ten minutes period which cost the Yellows three goals. David and I performed a well-worn Chuckle Brothers routine which somehow saw the ball squirt free for Ian to tap over the line, while Mario twice profited from slack marking to smash home from the edge of the area. As the level of discontent from within the Yellows ranks (understandably) grew they managed to find some momentum from somewhere to take advantage of young Patrick’s pace and height and the young man - making his final appearance as a teenager - scored twice to bring some respectability to the final score.

However, this was not before Joe had capitalised on the Yellows pushing forward to get back into the game by dispossessing Michele and picking out Tony (or Mario) to fire past Simon Gas. As for other goalscorers, while Ian got one he could and should have had a brace having been put through late on, but overthought his finish and managed to tackle himself with only Simon Gas to beat.

We once more played on for a few minutes after the final whistle, but there were no more goals and were unceremoniously hoicked off at around five past eight.

Final score: Blues 5 – Yellows 3

And so to the pub, where we managed to get a suite of seats for once. I spent some time talking to Mick about the passage of time on both mind and body and listened with great interest to Paul’s Antarctic expedition and how he’d narrowly avoided an international incident by trying to make friends with some Americans. He did, however, make friends with a West Ham fan known simply as ‘The Plumber’, as well as with some penguins.

Elsewhere, Simon Gas explained how he’d bailed out on War and Peace at around 550 pages, well before the Battle of Borodino, while Alan spent the latter part of the night relaying how much he hates Arsenal and Ian and I strived for new ways to distance ourselves from any putative Arsenal-to-win-the-league campaign. So, business very much as usual then.

*Credit to neither Alan nor David for helping me not remember more about the goalscorers. 

of sardines and Simon

Another week rattles around and another match report to write.

Simon Gas sent me the runners and riders for Friday night’s game, with the slightly odd caveat that he would not be included in the two line-ups; rather, he’d patrol the touchline for spare balls and prepare to come in as an impact substitute. As such, here are the two teams, minus the Muswell Hillbilly.

Blues: Andy, Joseph, Simon Ink, Mark Alan, Nick, Tony, Peter and Mario

Yellows: me, Steve, Ian Gooner, Ross, David, Michele, Danny, Mick and Alex

A bit of pre-match drama as Alex confirmed this credentials as a foggy headed academic by managing to forget his entire kit – happily for the Potteries midfield dynamo he managed to beg, borrow and steal an assortment of replacements.

Proceedings got underway and the Yellows were soon ahead, with one of the less elegant goals you’ll see at Coram Fields. A swirling ball from upfield landed menacingly in the penalty area and Michele dutifully chased it toward goal, where Andy was in nets. Taking an almighty swing at it, he managed to blast it straight at Michele’s back, whereupon it looped up into the net. One nil.

The lead didn’t last too long, however – Peter nodded home the equaliser from a corner, making good use of his height. The game then segued into an unattractive stalemate, with fairly rudimentary tactics from the Yellows in particular seeing a barrage of long balls hoiked speculatively toward Ross. The Blues may have had slightly more guile, but once Danny had come out of goal he and Mick did a very manful job of organising the Yellows backline to restrict Mario and Nick to hopeful shots from outside the area.

Back to Senor Gas. Having changed, primed to enter the fray should there be any injuries, he took up position on the far side of the pitch, ostensibly as ball-boy. However, given there is about 5 yards between the touchline and the fence his role was somewhat surplus to requirements. An exhortation to take up position on the touchline adjacent to the neighbouring pitch, where his presence may have been more effective, fell on deaf ears, but it became a moot point once Mark had to hobble off following a clash with Alex. Simon Gas was on the pitch.

There were two further goals, both for the Yellows. Ross’s tireless running and impressive persistence eventually yielded a score to make it 2-1, before a rare spell of accurate passing between the Yellows saw Danny fire home to complete the scoring and make it 3-1 to the Yellows.

Not too much else to report; Ian Gooner was struggling following some ropey sardines scoffed the previous evening and spent much of the game in goal, where he exuded a Cech-like calm on the Yellows’ defence. All in all a competitive game, if not exactly one for the purists.

To the pub then, where this week space was very much at a premium. Highlights included Bangers and Mash (for me), Chicken Wings (for Simon Ink) and lashings of beer all round. In addition to Arsenal’s current travails, conversation also alighted on the topics of the decline in ‘white rock’ music, as described by Ross, and an in-depth analysis of the game that Gary Neville would have been proud of.  

Onwards and upwards.