Another week, another blog, another stellar performance from
Sebastian to report on. With nineteen players in the mix this week – i.e. an
odd number – our dear leader elected to invite a ringer onto the pitch to even
the teams up, name of Merv. He wasn’t half bad. Here are your teams:
Blues: me, Joe, Charlie, Liam, James, Shez, Yev, Mario, Alan
Yellows: Sebastian (also starring Mick, Simon Gas, Ian
Baggies, Mark, David, Stu, Merv, Simon Ink)
The Yellows quickly took a two-goal lead, although both were
a bit soft. The first came after the goalkeeper could only parry Sebastian’s
initial shot back into his path whereupon he slammed the ball unerringly home
from an impressively tight angle; the second saw a gentle lob over the top
spring Mick who had just a flat-footed ‘keeper to beat (which he duly did). I know,
as I was that ‘keeper.
The Blues got a goal back via a poacher’s finish from Alan,
and then they took advantage of what Alan described as the ‘Power Play’ when
Sebastian was off the field for a few minutes to retrieve one of the balls to
score three times, with Mario and Liam getting stuck in.
But before long the Yellows stuck their foot back on the
accelerator to pull inexorably away from their rivals. David met a corner
sweetly on the instep and volleyed home; Stu capped a trademark driving run by
curling home and Sebastian repeatedly unleashed a series of low-slung howitzers
that zinged into either corner.
Toward the end of the game James missed a slew of chances
that were put on plate for him by Yev, Charlie and Mario, although in his
defence he had sustained some unfortunate knee-knack.
I'm genuinely not sure about the final score, although the last
goal of the night was an absolute farce, as the goalkeeping change that never
was left either Stu or Merv with the simple task of passing the ball into an
empty net. Highly avoidable.
Sebastian and friends 7 (?): Blues 4
Another fun evening out after the game; hot on the heels of
Simon Gas’s exploits last week, "Our Ukrainian Player' (OUP) arranged to meet two Italian ladies, one of
whom I am going to describe as ‘impossibly glamorous’, in the swanky bar
underneath what I still think of as the Spice Girls hotel at St
Pancras, after spotting them in the Skinners where they looked a trifle out
of place. OUP very astutely divined that they were slumming it and made some
arrangements to meet them somewhere altogether more salubrious.
David and I joined him, although we were soon sidelined by
the smooth operator that OUP is as they discussed all things international. David and I being the dowdy Englishmen we are, we could not compete with all the Euro-glamour. Brexit, here we come.
