Of riders, raincoats and redundant language

There is something genuinely odd about the fortnightly rhythm of people turning up to play on a Friday evening which means that one week there’s enough players to fill a stadium, (never mind two teams), while the next week it’s akin to organising a kick around on the deck of the Marie Celeste. Last Friday was definitely more like the former than the latter, with two teams of eight; for the first time in a few weeks there was no need to pad out the numbers with some of the footballing young guns that appear like midnight mushrooms whenever there’s a sniff of a (free) game.

Lining up for the bibs were Boro Dave, Dan, Andy, Paul ‘The Guvnor ‘ Tanner, Sam, Keir and the mercurial Geoff while the team in colours comprised Big Dave, Alan, Joe, Alex, Ian, myself, Simon Gas (who spent much of the game in goal) and Simon Inkpen (leading to the so-called ‘Old Street Simon Conjunction’, whereby all three Simons appear on the same team). As ever, many apologies if I have missed anyone out.

Yev played the first twenty minutes for the team in colours and the second twenty minutes for the bibs. Mick was also scheduled to appear, but was delayed by a late story for his employer the Financial Times, no doubt something to do with the Hellenic fiscal meltdown.

The final score was 4-2 to the team in colours. Alex (who else) opened the scoring for the colours and other goals from Joe, who was ploughing a lonely but productive furrow out on the left and (I think) Yev saw them take a 4-1 lead. Yev definitely scored the final goal of the game to make it 4-2: I am sure of this as I was in goal at the time and was unable to see the ball until it appeared goalside of Big Dave. It is never easy to switch horses half way through a game and props to Yev for both agreeing to take the reins for the bibs and for displaying such effective footballing equestrianism. What an appalling analogy.

And thus to the Old Fountain’s Head where Mick lay in wait, having finally finished his day’s work. It was one of the more interesting evenings I’ve spent in there of late, as discussion veered from the John Terry race row to the differing approaches taken by the former axis powers to their war-time history in the aftermath of the Second World War, and on to the post-colonial legacy in Zimbabwe. At this point Andy shared a fascinating anecdote about filming Robert Mugabe on a visit to a school in the early 1990’s before he accompanied Yev on what can only be described as a lascivious lap of the pub to catch sight of a young lady that the Ukrainian Lothario had spied from his perch in the corner. (If you’re reading, Mrs Andy, I can only say that he was lead astray). There was just time for Mick’s Peter Falk impression in tribute to Simon Gas’s fawn overcoat which made him look, variously, like a private detective, a rakish secret agent from the swinging 60’s and a flasher before the evening ended with a debate about social class and accents and a Latin tutorial from Mick.

As the FT man might say, bis pueri senes, (old men are twice children).

Rumble in the urban Jungle

Another week, another match report and another struggle for players, which in the wake of last week’s mob scene came as something of a surprise. Simon Gas and Joe managed to get us to seven aside by recruiting young Sam, Yusuf, a lad called Mark (I think) and the big Gooner with the Jack Wilshere shirt. The teams lined up thusly; Bibs: Young Sam, Big Dave, Yusuf, Alex, Mark, myself and big Wilshere. Colours: Joe, Simon Gas, Boro Dave, Yev, regular Sam, Dan and someone else (apologies, mystery man).

I think most felt that the team in bibs were a shoo-in for the win and they duly took the lead through young Sam, who passed the ball past Simon Gas in goal. But the team in colours equalised, much against the run of play, when a shot from Boro Dave took a massive deflection wrong footing Big Dave in goal. And although the Bibs had most of the possession they over elaborated terribly in front of goal, passing when they could have shot and missing the target when they did elect to shoot. Young Sam alone could have had at least four goals. The team in colours played the classic Rumble in the Jungle rope-a-dope trick and with strikers as dangerous as Yev and Boro Dave they scored two more to make it 3-1 before Joe completed the scoring from a free kick which the team in Bibs ought to have closed down, (taking nothing away from Joe who had an excellent game).

The Bibs continued to amass possession, but with a three goal cushion the colours defended deeply and frustrated the Bibs, who lacked the teeth to finish off what was at times sublime passing football. So 4-1 it finished – the puncher had beaten the boxer.

Sadly it was not as easy to recruit young lads to drink with, so it was a fairly tame evening in the Old Fountain’s Head, with just four drinkers present, although Big Dave came down after finishing his stint with the eight ‘o’ clock crew.

Can the Can

Compare and contrast - from last week’s game, where Simon Gas was forced to draft in some local lads to make the game up to more than five aside, Friday’s game had a veritable cast of thousands playing: with 9 (nine) players on each team the pitch looked like the set of Ben Hur. In fact, such were the numbers that Paul ‘The Guvnor’ selflessly substituted himself after the arrival of Yev for the first time this season (Yev being fashionably late, as ever).

I usually try to list the players on each team, but with eighteen players to get through that might be a bit dull; also, Alex brought in a few new faces and I’m not too sure what they were all called, (I know there was one chap called Tim but beyond that I haven’t got a Scooby).

With so many players and so many pairs of legs, the play at times resembled the legendary Folies Bergère doing the can can, with legs lifting and falling as the ball ricocheted between boots, ankles, shins (knees and toes, knees and toes) and probably squeaked for mercy. That said, the game itself wasn’t half bad and ended one apiece – Boro Dave opened the scoring for the team in colours when following some good work down the right he shot first time into a goal that was fairly unguarded as yours truly remained rooted to the near post. Clear chances being at a premium owing to the forest of defenders around either goal it looked like that could prove enough for some time, but Yev eventually poached a deserved equaliser for the team in bibs after a suicidal pass from Sam reached Yev on the edge of the D. Vulture-like, he rammed the ball home.

I think it’s fair to say that at the rattle for the end none of us felt like we’d played for more than 20 minutes, let along 40, but they say time flies when you’re having fun.

Finally, I can’t let the week’s blog pass without some mention of the weekend’s extraordinary Premier League action. Goals galore, red cards brandished, open goals missed – and Mario Balotelli setting fire to his own house. The Manchester derby score was arguably a worse result for Man U than the 8-2 caning they handed out to Arsenal, given that they were playing at home with their first choice 11 against the nearest rivals, but any thoughts of schadenfreude from me were tempered by the thought of what City might to do to Arsenal given that we lost to by six goals to a team that has now lost by five – by my reckoning Arsenal will lose 11-2 on the 18th December.

The miracle of Old Street

It’s been a while since Paul has asked me to write the post match blog, but I am always happy to wax lyrical about Friday night football. I see that since the end of last season there have been two posted blogs: one ranting about my beloved Arsenal and one commenting on last week’s 4-2 encounter which heralded the return of the prodigal Paul.

Last week’s encounter saw Simon again struggle for numbers – Wherefore art, thou, footballers? – so in addition to myself, Spizz, Simon Gas, Andy, Paul, Joe (who has turned into Team Selector par excellence), Alex, Big Dave, Danny, Alex’s Welsh mate Dan we also had guest appearances from young Sam and Yusuf. The team in bibs roared into a handsome lead as Alex gave his customary Man Of The Match performance, running the show from back to front and scoring four (I think) of the goals. His team-mates included Andy, who selflessly took no less than three turns between the sticks, myself, Spizz – who was uncharacteristically profligate in front of goal – Joe and Yusuf. At 5-1 ahead the team in colours, comprising Simon Gas, Sam, Big Dave, Danny and Dan and Paul managed to pull one back to make it 5-2, at which point Danny later admitted he was hoping they could make the score look a bit more respectable. Chances continued to come thick and fast for the team in bibs with Spizz unable to hit a cow’s arse with a microphone stand, Joe lifting one over from the edge of the D and myself hitting post and bar and drawing a great save from Simon Gas.

At the other end the side in colours managed to pull another back to make 5-3, before either Yusuf or Alex made it 6-3. Surely game over? Somewhere in the midst of all this came one of those world-stops-turning moments where Paul pounced on a loose ball in front of goal and drove the ball toward the far post. Time slowed down; continents stopped drifting; London pigeons paused in midflight; Big Dave screamed ‘It’s in!’. It wasn’t. The ball span back off the post, clipped Andy’s heels in goal and came to rest tantalising close to the goal-line. But not close enough. Time sped back up; continents groaned back into action; the pigeons shat on the roofs of Old Street; Big Dave turned around and fouled someone.

With around five minutes left Alex, selflessly, nobly, tragically, offered to relieve Andy from his latest stint in goal. The score at that stage stood at 6-4 to the time in bibs. Five minutes later the team in colours had conceded three goals in a festival of negligent defending, appalling tracking and incisive passing and finishing from Sam and Dan which cut the bibs into smithereens. Alex came out of goal in a desperate attempt to equalise before the rattle, but to no avail.The miracle of Old Street was complete, even without Paul's near miss.

Paul had written a blog on the 24^th August moaning about Arsenal’s inability to sign new players who weren’t French; he might have written an anti-Arsenal piece about our unrivalled ability to implode and there was something positively Wengeresque about the bibs’ late capitulation. Having said that, if someone other than me and Andy had offered to go in goal (hello, Spizz!) we would have won.

Until next week...

We went down 4-2 last Friday following Spizz double.

Last Friday I came back after a long delay following a lack of fitness. Our side was kept in the game by Alex but we went down 4-2 following a Spizz double. The punk star was in dogged form after being close a few times. We tried to mount a come-back and hit the bar. However, Big Dave was very well-organised at the back for them. Other solid performances came from Gooner Simon while Gashead Simon made a fantastic diving save for us, which at the time kept us in the
game.

My rant against the Gooners!!! The Guvnor

I am sorry to say that I am going to have a rant against the Gooners just before the crunch
European League game against the Italian team Udinese. I went to the game at the Emirates
(still commonly known as the Library) between Arsenal against Liverpool and I have been to happier funerals as we witnessed the dismantling of the Arsene Wenger dream. The Gooner manager seems to have an obsession of getting in Francophone players and the disciplinary
record of 88 sending offs over 15 seasons is not good. When Pimpong went, it was obvious that Liverpool would stroll to a victory. Perhaps Kenny Dalglish had to overpay to get Carroll etc but
at least he is in the market for good players. Arsene seems to want to buy inexpensive French players and turn them into superstars but players like Henry and Pires are few and far between.
It was not good that the leading U.S shareholder in Arsenal, Kroenke, had to fly over to tell
Wenger to get on with the sale of Nasri. Also, Fabregas should have been sold at the beginning of
the close season so they could buy reinforcements at leisure.

Manchester United bought quickly this summer and the transfer acquisitions are handled (I think) by David Gill, who just gets a shopping list from Sir Alex Ferguson. Also if players don't
want to play for Ferguson or if they cause much trouble they are just shipped out. The Fabregas
transfer was just so draining for Arsenal.

However, I was very impressed with Liverpool players like Adam, Jose Enrique, Suarez and Flanagan. But it could have been a different result if Nasri scored in the first half after a great run while Van Persie just shot at Reina from a cross when he should have scored.

I have'nt talked to any of the Friday night players with the exception of Gashead. We are going for a quick sifter this Friday to discuss the prospects for the coming season, which starts on
September 2nd. All are invited. Hopefully, Spizz will be at something approaching full fitness and players like Stevo and Boro Dave are less allergic to doing their stint at goal. Otherwise I will be moaning on about a discount.

End of season 2010-2011

So, another season of Friday night football ends. Last week’s final game saw a 4-1 victory for the team in bibs, despite the side in colours taking a first minute lead. Andy ‘the Vulture’ swooped ominously onto a delicate through ball from (I think) Mick and after skipping past Paul slammed in a shot past Sam in goal. That was as good as it got for team in colours, however, as despite the efforts of such footballing luminaries as Boro Dave, Mick, Big Dave, Joe and Simon Gas - and a near monopoly in midfield – the combined firepower of Yev and Ross did the damage up front for the team in bibs. 4-1 didn’t really tell the full story of what was a competitive game, but Big Dave’s decision not to take either Ross or Yev as striker proved decisive and although the bibs hit the metalwork and saw plenty of the ball, they couldn’t make that pressure count.

Yev got at least bibs’ goals two of the goals to sign off in style for the Summer, with Ross also appearing on the scoresheet. As Sam opined after the game, it was victory for an innovative 4-0-4 formation. Watch out for it next season.

And so to the real business of the day, as after a brief stop in the Fountains Head for some aperitifs we headed for the Red Dog Saloon in Hoxton Square, (losing Boro Dave and Big Ian for a short time for reasons unclear). The thirteen or so footballers present proceeded to demolish a bewildering array of red meat and chips, with Boro Dave taking on something called the ‘Devastator’. I can’t find details of what this leviathan of the burger world contained, but suffice to say that it looked as if it would ‘devastate’ your waist line for the foreseeable future. There was some sort of challenge associated with the burger’s consumption which entailed getting through a milkshake and large fries, but Dave eschewed such frippery and stuck to the meat.

After the first three pitchers of lager disappeared in record time it would appear that at least three of us took it upon ourselves to order two more, with the net result that we ended up with enough beer to refloat the Cutty Sark. Inevitably, it all got drunk, alongside some digestif whiskeys. At this point our behaviour lurched into the realms of boorishness, as in response to another table of diners singing ‘happy birthday’ we broke into a series of songs extolling the virtues of Simon George: from the ubiquitous ‘one Simon George’ to ‘Simon George on the wing’ to ‘Oooohhh, Simon Simon; Simon, Simon, Simon, Simon Geo-orge’. The staff told then told us to shut up, not unreasonably.

And what had Simon done to warrant such adulation? In addition to organising another year of football fun on Friday evenings, he had picked up the tab for 13 gourmet burgers and an ocean of lager. Truly, a Prince among men. After some toasts to absent friends and then our wives and girlfriends Danny deservedly picked up the gong for player of the season to unanimous acclaim.

Until August, here’s to the British Summer and most of all to Simon.