Spring has sprung, like a leaky defence

So here it is; a blog. The first of 2020, (will it be the last?) My mitigating circumstances are partly covered by the fact I didn’t play for a month, but I know that you don’t really care about the whys and wherefores – you just want the words.

Friday's game was a nineteen player fixture, with the Yellow team boasting the extra man, although there was some jiggery pokery with the line-ups as we had two Dans listed (one turned out to be a Danny).

Here are your teams:

Yellows: Ian Gooner, Pete, Danny, Parminder, me, Andy, Yev, Simon Gas, Tom, Dan

Blues: Mick, Alan, Steve, Joe, Simon Ink, Ben, Ed, Callum, Geoff (!)

The Blues took an early lead after a goalkeeping error left Simon Ink clear to slot home, before Callum volleyed home from a sharp angle on the right to make it two nil to the Blues. There then followed the only decent spell of play from the Yellows as they sought to make the extra man count with some pleasant triangular passing patterns; however, the decent approach play did not necessarily translate into meaningful chance creation. Having said that, Yev and then Ian were both on the mark to get the Yellows within one goal of the Blue lead, the latter continuing a rich vein of goal-hanging scoring form by hooking home from a swinging cross from Yev from all of about two yards (the big man bagged a hat-trick last week).

With the game poised at 3-2 Alan stole away from his markers in characteristically surreptitious fashion and finished clinically to score the fourth goal; shortly afterwards Ed managed to get in a cut back from the by-line that I should have cut out to leave someone or other with the simple task of steering home past Andy in goals. And then Pete scored an own goal.

The wheels had well and truly come off by this stage, but the Yellows did manage to get one more goal to make it a final score of 5-3 to the Blues.

There were a couple of handball contretemps to discuss – basically, both incidents featured players with their hands high in the air hit by a ball blasted at them from a distance of less than three feet. Going on how these things work in the Premier League, they’d be given as handball if you play for a less glamorous team, but not if you wear a Liverpool or Man City shirt. 

Kudos to, in no particular order, Callum, Dan, and Ed. Joe was his usual imperious self, rolling forwards up the pitch with a fusion of élan and inexorable strength like an armoured personnel carrier with chrome plating. 

And so to the pub!

Topics under discussion included the coronavirus, the unorthodox defence of the crossbow murderer in Wales, Ian’s beautiful new 1974 baby blue Capri, the benefits of playing football in middle age, and… beer. 

Until next time, stay classy.I've uploaded some pictures from the Christmas pork extravaganza to remind of Winter and to prove that Paul made it home in one piece.