Nailbiting finish

Morning everyone. Feels very Autumnal today, doesn’t it? I thought that I’d inadvertently got up an hour earlier than usual this morning, as it was still dark at the station. Bleugh.

Right, ten goals and much else to get through this morning.

Here are your teams from Friday:

Yellows: me, Joe, Mario, Mick, Peter, Simon Gas, Callum, Paul (The Guv’nor) and Liam

Blues: Andy, Steve, Tony, Danny, Michele, Patrick, Mark, Nick and Ross

With Ed being a late withdrawal young Patrick came in for his first game in a while – there was some confusion when he arrived with his pater familias, as without Pete – who was late – the Yellows looked a bit light, and my intention was for Patrick to play as a Yellow until Peter arrived, much to the chagrin of the Blue team. Happily, Peter rocked up about two minutes after Patrick, so all was well.

Game on!

Rather a few goals to try and recall this morning, but I’ll have a go. Patrick turned on the turbo-boosters / ran quite fast past someone twenty years older than him with much shorter legs (delete as you feel most appropriate) to blast around myself on the Blues’ right and slot home past Simon Gas in goal to get the Blues’ noses in front. Also on the scoresheet for the Blue team was Danny, who managed to drill home from just outside the area through a thicket of middle aged ankles, and Ross, who bagged a brace; in fact he would have a hat-trick had it not been for a fabulous save from Simon Gas in goal, who managed to tip over an equally stupendous volley that was dipping viciously as it fizzed toward the goal. The second goal came after I failed to track his run properly – Ross continued his run toward goal when a Blue defender got a foot to the first ball before Nick fired back a cross for the sometime pop star to slot home.

As for the Yellows, well they scored some goals, too. I must confess to being slightly confused by the progression of the scoreline, chiefly as a result of what was comfortably the most controversial moment of the game. Mick took a corner from the Yellows’ right which sailed across the goal just under the bar for Peter to gleefully nod in. Danny immediately, and incredibly loudly and s l o  w  l   y exhorted to all and sundry that Mick’s corner ball had gone out before looping back in, which sounded unlikely, but appeared to be the final decision. If anyone knows otherwise, they can let me know.

In and around this ghost goal, Peter and Liam both got on the scoresheet, although the late October fog has not lifted sufficiently to permit me to describe them in much detail. My memory is slightly less hazy when it comes to describing the Yellows’ final two goals, however; chiefly as I scored them both in a turn of events that’s as rare as hen’s teeth, or a magnanimous reaction to defeat from Jose Mourinho.

The first came after I managed to get hold of the second ball following a corner, with Mick aerially challenging for the initial ball – I volleyed home from the edge of the area into the bottom left hand corner, with the ‘keep admittedly slightly unsighted. The second was similar, although this time I hit the ball with my somewhat more conventional right foot. I believe that the second goal made it 5-4 to the Blues on the night, with Ross’s late goal making it five apiece.

After some wrangling over the initial fairness of the sides I think we all came off feeling that a (high scoring) draw was about right. And other than some consternation from Tony that someone touched him while jumping for the ball we had a remarkably rancour-free evening.

And so to the pub. With a smaller turnout than would is custom, discussions covered holidays with young children, Villa’s new manager, and the new Rye IPA on tap in the Skinners, before we moved onto two anecdotes from Mark and Liam. Mark’s story concerned tractors with three foot spikes to burst the distended stomachs of dead sheep in the Cumbrian hills during the foot and mouth outbreak, while Liam’s tale of nailbiting left quite an impression on a recruitment consultant at Green Park tube in the most literal way possible. How would you remove a crescent of finger nail from a woman’s cheek that you’ve just met? Answers on a postcard.

And finally this week, how funny is this?

Tennis score

Friday rolls around again and that can only mean one thing: football. At Coram Fields. At seven pm. With Simon Gas and some assorted gentlemen of varying years and abilities. And that, as sure as night follows day means the match report, conveyed to you in blog form on a page ostensibly paying tribute to New Wave maverick Spizzenergi. So, here goes…

Last Friday saw a higher turnout than has been custom of late, with ten playing nine. Here are your two teams:

Blues: Ross, Liam, Simon Gas, Bristol Paul, Michele, Nick, Ed, Andy, Mark

Yellows: Alan, Danny, Tony, Simon Ink, me, Joe, Peter, Yev, David, Paul

This game’s final result was a tennis score, but it never felt that one-sided and by common consensus the score should have been much closer. The Blues took the lead with a strange goal as Danny was caught slightly unawares in goal and as we all waited for Liam to strike Andy appeared next to him to sweep the ball home. That was as good as it good the Blue team, however.

Yev arrived at this stage and with the additional man the Yellows slowly made their advantage count. Once the Yellows had got back on terms Alan took them into the lead with a fabulous swivelled volley from just outside the area that flew into the far corner. Danny was also on the scoresheet as the Yellows finished more clinically than their opponents, who for all their possession and attacking threat from Ross and Liam lacked a cutting edge in the last third.

Tony had a great game marshalling the massed ranks of the Yellows as they endeavoured to stem the flow of balls from Michele and Nick toward the Yellow goal. As the game wore on the Yellows ruthlessly punished the inevitable gaps at the Blues’ rear and Peter and Joe both had barnstorming games that arguably made the difference on the night. I think that after Yev banged one home, Peter got the goal his performance deserved by lashing home from all of about two inches, although he did manage to sky at least two shots over the bar and into the park.

Alan went onto bag a brace, and one of either Peter or Yev also scored twice to make the final score 6-1 to the Yellows.

A relatively controversy-free evening for once, despite the presence of some of the more combustible Coram Fields regulars on the field.

I skipped the pub this week, as I am still feeling the effects of uncharacteristic four-nights in a row booze stint last week, but I am sure a good time was had by all. See you all on Friday. 

I think I mist again...

Good morning everyone and welcome to another week on Planet Football. I do love this time of year; the mists hanging in the fields as they wait for the weak autumnal sun to rise high enough to slowly frazzle them away; the desiccating conkers in the browning leaves; the growing ennui as you realise that there’s yet another international break stretching out before you to disrupt the sporting biorhythms of this ancient land.

On to the match report, then. A lower turnout last week, with seven playing eight. With Tony being a late withdrawal and Yev being characteristically late, we kicked off with around five aside before the two sides gradually swelled in size.

Here are your teams:

Yellows: Joe, Simon Ink, Ross, Mario, Danny, Alan and Ed

Blues: Bristol Paul, Simon Gas, me, Steve, David, Liam, Nick and Yev

I missed an excellent chance very early on when the teams were roughly five aside, having been played through by Liam, and thereafter chances for the Blues did not exactly roll along with any regularity. The Yellows took a one nil lead, probably deservedly, through a fierce shot from Simon Ink, before the Ukrainian cavalry arrived to give the Blues the additional man.

Despite this extra resource the Blues struggled to create very much in the way of clear-cut opportunities and the Yellows’ younger legs and sharper finishing was enough to prevail on the night. Having taken a two-goal lead via Ross the Blues managed to get back into things with a typically muscular finish from Liam, who shrugged off the attentions of Joe, who has all of about six inches in height on him, and burst through from midfield to calmly pass the ball home.

Then came what proved to be the critical point in the game, as Steve and Danny went into battle inside the Blues’ penalty area. Steve duly emerged with the ball, but apparently only after taking the man. Somewhat controversially, and much to Simon Gas’s chagrin, a penalty was awarded. Mario made no mistake to make it three-one to the Blues.

That was just one of a number of hotly contested decisions on Friday. Earlier Alan had tried to emulate George Best at Windsor Park all those years ago and prevent Simon from throwing the ball out, but was penalised for ungentlemanly conduct. Alan was still muttering about the rank unfairness of it all as he headed toward Kings Cross an hour and a half later. Meanwhile, Liam strenuously tried to relieve Danny of the ball while the latter was in goal, only to be adjudged to have fouled the keeper by Mario, who perhaps took a more southern European view of a challenge on the goalie. Given Danny wasn’t really in control of the ball I thought that was harsh. And finally, Danny was later adjudged to have committed a handball when the ball bounced off his chest and hit his hand which was over his head, (a move now known as a Koscielny). This handball was given, with Alan being once again very much aggrieved, but even Danny conceded that he agreed with the decision.

As the cold September rain started to fall the accuracy of the ‘passing’ went out of the window and what had been a relatively high quality game deteriorated. There was time for one more goal, as Liam stabbed home from a corner to make it 3-2. And also a word for a good cross from Nick that I just failed to head on target. Shame.

Final score: Yellows 3 – Blues 2

And so to the pub. Only a few drinkers this week, but topics under conversation included the new £5 note, which would appear to be a good way to get strangers talking, last week’s Champions League thriller in Glasgow which showed that Man City are far from invincible and how much time it is permissible to spend in the pub on a Friday night when your significant other is at home with a young baby.

I’ll be missing this week’s game as I’m going to see The Kills at the Camden Roundhouse – this is if I can get my wife to leave our daughter at home with her mother-in-law – so see you all in two weeks’ time.