True Colours

And so it came to pass that despite poring over the team sheets for Friday’s game for longer than five minutes and thereby ensuring that the teams were evenly balanced, Fate took a hand and threw my plans up in the air and cast them to the figurative Four Winds.

Whoosh! Ian Gooner and Peter both withdraw on the day!

Blast! Callum and Adolpho decide not to turn up!

But, best of all, (hurricane-level gust!), Tom forgot the bibs.

To my reckoning, this hasn’t happened since we moved over to Coram Fields, which was about five years ago.

Now, in this eventuality there are a number of solutions. One would be to play shirts v skins, (as suggested by Danny), but the Coram Fields safeguarding team ruled this out in mind of the high number of under-18s in the vicinity.

Another is to ask the caretaker if they have any spare bibs (answer: no). Which leaves attempting to corral players into two teams based on the vaguest of colour themes, e.g. darks versus lights (question: how dark is red?), or monochrome versus colours. Bearing in mind I am horrifically colour blind, none of it makes much sense.

Without going on too much, here is what we ended up with, with a predominantly red, orange (i.e. Nick’s Cote D’Ivoire top) and white team (plus Charlie in light green) versus a darker blue/black team (plus Tom in what looked very much like green). If you add in that Yev was late, you get the following picture:

Reds and oranges, etc.: me, Nick, Steve, Charlie, Paul, Ed, Alan, Mick

Blues, blacks, darks: Joe, Tom, Yev, Alessandro, Simon Gas, Danny, Bristol Paul

Despite the haphazard nature of the team selection, we ended up with a pretty decent game. (Perhaps we should leave team selection up to the mythical Prince of Serendip more regularly in future?)

The Blue team were arguably stronger, particularly with their twin pillars of defence – Joe and Tom, (a little and large combo if ever there was one) - but this advantage was offset by the Red team boasting Ed in goals.

Yev and Alessandro pulled wide on either side of the pitch and stretched the Red’s defenders to take advantage of what was at times fairly agricultural approach play from the Blues (i.e. hoof it long to the front two), but Ed, Steve and Mick combined to thwart many of their attacks, with the crossbar coming into play on at least two occasions to save the Reds. Danny was the unlucky man on one of those occasions as the ball was tipped onto the bar by the feline Ed whereupon it crashed down on the goal-line before being hacked to safety. However, Yev did manage to get past Ed to grab two goals.

This lead stretched to three once Danny got in on the act, and thereafter the Reds struggled to play the final killer ball to test the various Blue goalkeepers. The one goal which they did manage came from Nick as he performed a deft shoe-shuffle along the by-line and flicked the ball past the keeper from a very tight angle.

My big moment came when Nick span in the centre circle and played a beautifully weighted pass, leaving me with the deceptively simple task of running in unopposed on goal and finishing past Joe. I was doing alright up to and including the moment when I gave him the eyes, dummied the ball a la Davor Suker and took it round him, whereupon one of his go-Gadget limbs poked out and took the ball away and thence to safety via an unseemly scramble. Foiled again!

And onto the pub, which was mercifully quiet this week. This may be in part due to the Young People being down on Michael Eavis’s farm in Pilton (one of them being Mick’s son, Patrick – as Mick said, why waste your time and money watching middle aged men indulge themselves when you could play football with Simon Gas et al), but whatever the reason it was a genuine treat to sit outside and drink cool beer.

Topics under consideration included Tony’s alleged retirement, terrorism (not related to the first item) and the last game of the season, which is likely to be Friday 14^th July.

Until Friday, friends.

Lorum Ipsum

Another Friday rolls round and another match report to compile.

Given what was to transpire, you’ll be surprised / shocked / staggered (please feel free to delete as appropriate) to read that I had a genuine sense of satisfaction after preparing the following teams, as I fully expected a low scoring game settled by the odd goal.

Yellows: me, Andy, Bristol Paul, Tom, Danny, Peter, Alessandro, Adolpho and Yev

Blues: Ian Baggies, Ian Gooner, Simon Gas, Tony, Mark, Joe, Mario, Ross and Paul

Ten plays nine there, although with Yev’s inevitable tardiness it was nine aside for the first ten minutes. And let the record state that Peter opined in the opening exchanges that the Yellow team were too weak and needed reinforcements.

The Yellows took the lead in that opening period, i.e. before Yev’s arrival, with the improving Alessandro crashing home with a fierce effort that fizzed into the bottom corner. (I think this was the first goal; there were quite a few to recall and my brain is turning to fudge in the heat). Thereafter the Yellows took a two goal lead, courtesy of Peter, (I think) – by this stage Yev was on the scene and he managed to cash in with a couple of goals.

I then took my stint in goal and shortly after parrying a dipping shot from Tony I managed to oversee the one Blue goal of the night; Andy went to intercept a cross from the Blues’ right, but the ball got stuck under his feet and Ross managed to steal in, take the ball around Andy and steer it into the empty net.

At this stage the two little sods who have clearly been taking lessons in how to be as irritating as possible were the cause of a five minute interregnum in proceedings. Having asked several times if they could play – answer: not likely – they then scampered off with one our balls again; I understand that Danny thought they had taken one of our bags. Cue much angst, an averted headbutt from Yev and a highly vocal exchange with Danny which resulted in the two lads being ushered away from the pitch.

It’s probably fair to say that this hiatus in proceedings fatally harmed the flow of the game. Tony became increasingly vocal with his disgruntlement about the fairness of the two teams as the goals continued to flow for the Yellows; I squared one for Peter to rifle in, (after I missed a great chance following a terrific centre from Alessandro); Danny burst up the touchline and passed home from a short distance and toward the end Andy bagged a couple.

By this stage things had become somewhat farcical, as we had the all too familiar sight of Tony trudging off disconsolately, soon followed by Mario and then Ian.

Other notable incidents, and there’s been a few recently, included Danny and Tony having a contretemps by the corner flag. Danny stood (just) the requisite few yards away from Tony as he took a corner and the outspoken Brexiteer took the opportunity to blast the ball at Danny’s arse not once, not twice, but three times. As Tom said, time to turn the other cheek. 

And there was still time for another flare up as they tussled on the touchline.

All in all, a week to forget. David suggested I post the blog in lorum ipsum. Perhaps you would agree?

PS – A sighting of the lesser spotted Spizz before the game, as the Arthur Daley of punk stopped on his push bike on his way to the Roundhouse to see The Skids to deliver some flyers. More news to follow…

Of coppers and choppers

Good morning, all. With the main man flying back to Blighty from his brief sojourn in Lousanne, I was asked to Take Care of Business on Friday, picking two teams of ten (and getting the keys, taking the money, etc.) And here they are:

Yellows: Paul, me, Steve, Alessandro, Charlie, Nick, Mick, Joe, Tony and Liam

Blues: Ed, Andy, Tom, Simon Ink, Ian Gooner, Danny, Alan, Adolpho, Mark and Yev

Incredibly, everyone turned up on time and we were able to kick off at 7.00 pm with no need for further adjustments, a turn of events that’s as rare as hen’s teeth. Another word on the starting line-ups: owing to an elbow injury specialist goalkeeper Ed was not in goal, which probably helped the overall balance of the two teams. Onto the match report.

Just the three goals to relay this week, as with twenty men on the pitch space was inevitably at a premium. Nick started in nets for the Yellows and I went in for the first change and promptly let in the two goals that the Blue team scored.

The first was regrettable, as I was fiddling with the goalie’s gloves and trying to keep an eye on the young scamps messing around behind the goal when Yev spied me slightly out of position and shrewdly passed the ball to my left and beyond my outstretched hand. Shortly afterwards a great Blue move culminated in a cross to the far post where Adolpho was unmarked. He crashed the ball home off his chest with tremendous panache for one of the more eye-catching goals we’ve had at Coram Fields. Blues 2 – Yellows 0.

There on, chances and space were limited for both teams. The Blues found it difficult to get beyond Joe and Steve, for all of Adolpho’s midfield scheming and Danny and Alan’s box-to-box runs. And at the other end the Yellows too struggled to make any clear cut chances, with Liam ploughing a lone furrow for much of the game, despite Nick, Mick, Charlie, Tony and Alessandro seeing plenty of the ball in the wide positions. The one goal which did come, with about twenty minutes to go, saw Tony spring Liam with a wonderful through ball which gave the jinky Scotsman a rare run on goal. He made no mistake and clinically slotted home.

All in all, a fairly decent game given the paucity of space with relatively little controversy. The game ended at around 7.55 with the score at 2-1 to the Blues.

Circumstance behoves me to relay details of the other events of the evening. The two young scamps I referred to in the sixth paragraph narrowly avoiding being drop-kicked off the pitch by Tom as they successfully garnered our attention by continually encroaching on the field of play and stealing one of our balls, which they later returned after Tom’s characteristically vocal intervention (“Get off the fucken pitch, mate!”). Happily, they duly fucked off.

More seriously, at around half seven what looked like an armoured police car screeched to a halt outside the entrance to the Foundling Museum and three coppers ran out to chase a troop of hooded youths that were straight from central casting in terms of looking like urban gang members. With sirens screaming and lights flashing the ball had gone out for a corner and we all naturally paused to see the ensuing drama, with me and Yev both suggesting that the constabulary use all reasonable force in their quest for justice. Alan’s reaction was to tell us to get on with the game.

And then at around ten to seven the air ambulance arrived. After a low pass over the three Coram Fields pitches which prompted a stop in play, the helicopter came back around and landed on the pitch. Unlike St James’s Park in 1984 we did not see Kevin Keegan step in, but rather the paramedics step out. Match abandoned.

You can read all about it here, but suffice to say that London is not always an easy city to love, for all that we do.

And thus to the Skinners, where a disbelieving Simon Gas awaited news of the night’s events. As he said, something dramatic always happens when he goes away. Aside from the tales of coppers and choppers, other items up for discussion included the generous chests of Dundee’s young ladies, (which got Yev’s attention) and the fallout from the most extraordinary general election result in recent times.  

See you on Friday. 

Ed ache

Good afternoon, all. Another memorable game to report on today, as we all try and Get On With Things despite the best efforts of the imbeciles out to terrorise us. Here are your two teams from last Friday:

Yellows: me, Bristol Paul, Steve, David, Adolpho, Mario, Charlie and Simon Gas

Blues: Ian Gooner, Nick, specialist goalkeeper Ed, Alessandro, Will, Liam, Geoff (and not Vitaliy)

The last player mentioned there, Yev’s mate Vitaliy, failed to show, which meant that the Yellow team had a man advantage once David arrived at around eight minutes past seven.

Despite this numerical superiority the Yellows managed to sieve three goals in the first ten minutes, all of them coming from defensive mistakes that were punished with cool and clinical precision by Alessandro, Will and Liam – I won’t name names here, as the Yellows’ lack of defensive cover for all three goals was as much to blame as the individual errors.

At the other end Ed made the first of what even by his own standards were an array of extraordinary saves as I let off what looked like a great shot only to see the lithe young ‘keeper claw it out from under the top left corner of the goal.

Liam managed to charge down an attempt from myself to lob the ball over his head and into midfield, the wee striking sprite racing onto goal unopposed and calmly slotting the ball past the goalie and into the far corner, which made it 4-1 on the night. I then took my turn in nets and hoped to see our team regroup, although the next goal came from Will and not anyone wearing a Yellow (or orange) bib.

All that said, the scoreline was somewhat misleading of the game itself, as although the Blues were worth their lead in terms of quality – I think we’d all forgotten just how good a player Will is, (for my money, he is, pound for pound, year for year, the best player to grace the Coram Fields arena when one factors in age, work-rate, all round skillset and the fact he will pass to people who might not be as good as him), while Liam was in mean form – the Yellows did enjoy plenty of the ball. Some of you might say that this is because they had the extra man (hello Ian!), but in Mario and Adolpho they had two wonderful players who worked tirelessly to recover both possession and position to try and get the bloody ball past Ed.

Ah, the headache of a specialist goalkeeper… for all the Yellows’ effort and determination there is something genuinely dispiriting about trying to find a way past a shot-stopper as effective as Ed. Time and again he thwarted the Yellows best efforts to score, parrying, pawing and tipping the ball away to safety, over the bar, and onto his own defenders. After a while you start to overthink things; rather than striking the ball you take an extra touch, consider squaring to someone else who may be better placed, or just shank the chance. Even someone as naturally gifted at shooting as Mario is affected, let alone a duffer like me – countless opportunities were squandered, with posts struck and hands clutched to heads. Steve’s miss was a great example: having seen an initial shot saved, Steve uncharacteristically tried to lift the ball high over Ed’s head (rather than closing his eyes and putting his foot through it) and succeeded only in spooning it over the bar. Mario did something similar a few minutes later, while I had one chance tipped round the post and suffered an embarrassing brain fade for another.

Will got one more from the penalty spot after Simon Gas craftily handled a goalbound effort from Liam (not so craftily that it was not spotted by the Blues), but Mario and Adolpho both managed to finally find a way past Ed (Mario’s goal coming from a trademark swivel and low drive) to lend a modicum of respectability to the final score.    

           

The last action of the evening saw the ball come loose to me on the edge of the box as the final whistle was peeping; I hit the ball on my laces and it soared over Ed’s head, but not past his fingertips and it crashed down off the crossbar and down off the goal-line whereupon it was hacked to safety, which rather summed up the night.

Final score: Blues 6 – Yellows 3

And thus to the pub, for three much needed and wholly refreshing pints of Yardbird. I failed to shift my spare ticket for Depeche Mode on Saturday at the London Stadium (who were spectacular, should you be interested), but got more interest among the assorted middle aged men then I got on social media all week. Other topics under discussion were the wonderful FA Cup final, Geoff’s upcoming theatrical performance as Colonel Pickering, the general election and Simon Gas’s imminent journalistic assignment in Lousanne. Which means I am in charge on Friday; bibs, subs and all.

Until then…