The City Gent

Last Friday’s game was the first held in the daylight at Coram Fields, although it still felt more like mid-Winter than British Summer Time. As is becoming custom, Simon Gas pre-selected his teams but they were subject to significant tinkering, chiefly as a result of the involvement of a clutch of young men, some of whom were playing with their fathers (and their fathers’ friends).

Both Phil and Mick’s sons played; Phil’s son is named Ellis, I believe, while Mick’s male progeny is named Patrick. If I’ve got that wrong please don’t blame me – this seemed to be the consensus in the dressing room afterward amongst the older players. Blame dementia for any issues with accuracy.

I am going to have a go at listing both teams as they finished the game

Colours: Simon Gas, Alan, Ian Arsenal, Simon Ink, me, (a rare sighting of the three-Simon conjunction there), Danny, Paul (much more of whom later), Wing Commander Will

Bibs: Phil, Andy, Ian West Brom, Mick, Ellis (after being transferred following two goals in the first five minutes for the Colours), Patrick (after scoring a hatful and winning the game for the Bibs), a young person who’s name I can’t recall who I believe supported Sunderland and another young gentleman who supports West Ham

My notes tell me that the final score was 8-4 to the team wearing Colours, but that doesn’t begin to tell the story of the game. The Colours roared into a 3-0 lead, Ellis’s pace and clinical finishing revealing a chasm in class and age between those charged with marking him and his colleagues, before Phil made it 3-1 after I pressured Paul, dressed for the evening as a City Gent, in goal.

Someone then made it 4-1 to the Colours, upon which I was transferred over to the Colours in an attempt to handicap their clear advantage while young Ellis donned a bib. Simon’s juggling initially drew the desired response, as the Bibs got back to 4-3 before the Colours re-established their dominance via a slew of goals, including one apiece for Alan and Ian Arsenal, and at least three for young Patrick, who’s sleight of foot and general prowess in front of goal stretched the lead toward double figures.

Simon Gas made another late alteration as Simon Ink moved over to the Colours with Patrick going to other way, leading to the team in Colours ‘boasting’ all three Simons. However, by this stage Wing Commander Will had taken up permanent residence in goal, having sustained knee-knack as he twisted to cut the ball in from the by-line. Will’s studied excellence in goal prevented the Bibs from getting back into things in any meaningful way and the game ended, as usual, with one team way ahead of the other.

Quite what the various young people involved made of it all is anyone’s guess; Ellis and Patrick in particular are clearly very good footballers and may have been embarrassed at the ease with which they could find space and the back of the net. But as the game wore on the effectiveness of all the young men seemed to wane - this may have been a consequence of indifference to the final score, or boredom, or wanting to go easy on a crew of old-timers.

An alternative explanation could be that they were bewildered and ultimately stymied by the fact that someone had elected to play the entire game wearing a pin-striped black suit. Paul had apparently been involved in a series of high-level business meetings throughout the day which were so mysterious that even his wife was not aware of their arrangement. Eschewing fripperies such as football boots and shorts, this thrusting colossus of commerce took to the pitch wearing not only the aforementioned suit, but also black shoes, a flat cap and initially at least, a fluorescent yellow puffa-jacket. The jacket was soon discarded as the serious business of repelling attacks and taking free-kicks was taken on with the aplomb of a man used to multi-tasking, although his red tie remained resolutely in place and his top button firmly fastened. Danny made the observation that the tie in particular seemed to help Paul’s balance, acting as a sort of sporting plumb line which ensured that he remained balanced and In Control. A veritable tour de force of a performance from the man who likes to be known as The Guvnor – how will he follow this up? Will his next performance be in a bear suit? Will he arrive this Friday in a deep-sea diver’s outfit? Could he come wearing a safari suit and pith helmet? Who can possibly say? From the point of view of the young men it must have been a bewitching performance from Paul, perhaps all the more so because the rest of us seemed so blasé about the fact that someone had turned up to play football dressed in formal business attire.

And so to the Skinners Arms for a couple of post-match pints and a discussion on welfare dependency, house prices, Rolf Harris and an extraordinary assertion from Paul involving the expired Python Graham Chapman and Britain’s first bachelor Prime Minister, Edward Heath. I am guessing that there will be rather more discussion of dead Prime Minsters this coming Friday. Until then…

Scottish goalkeeping

With Winter still very much in attendance it was another parky Friday night at Coram Fields on the 22^nd March. Actually, never mind parky – it was downright Arctic. With Simon Gas back from his week’s sabbatical the Bristolian soccer mastermind arrived with a pre-prepared set of teams. They were as follows:

Bibs: Ian Arsenal, Ian West Brom, Danny, Yev, Paul, Simon Inky, Joe

Colours: Ross, Alan, Simon Gas, Liam, Geoff, Andy, me

I thought that the Bibs looked slightly stronger on paper, but as is proving the rule rather than exception on the new domain, one team’s advantage was amplified rather unkindly and despite the best efforts of the Colours team they were on the wrong side of a 9-1 reverse. 

The Tale of the Tape, if you will, was that the Bibs hurtled into a 2-0 lead via goals with Yev and Danny, (I think). There then followed what felt like a lengthy period of stalemate, before the Colours committed footballing hari-kari; from a Colours corner they managed to gift possession to the Bibs and Yev stole through virtually unopposed with all six outfield Colours in the attacking half of the pitch. 

That felt like a crucial goal and so it proved. With Danny and the Ians (appearing tonight at the Dublin Castle: £8 admission, £6 concessions) marshalling superbly from the back Yev was able to feast on the service from Joe and Simon Ink and gorged himself like a Transylvanian nobleman on the porous Colours defending. The Colours solitary goal – although we hit the post twice – came from Andy, who took some good positions up front and could have had a hat-trick.

The major talking point of the evening was an extraordinary non-goal from Yev with the score at around the 4-1 mark. The ball was dabbed through to him with just Liam between the Ukrainian hitman and yet another score – Yev shimmied, dummied, feinted and stabbed the ball goalwards, whereupon he turned his back to play and started walking back up the pitch for what he assumed would be the inevitable restart from the centre spot. He hadn’t banked, however, on a) the ball not travelling quite as quickly as he thought and b) the lithe athleticism of young Liam, who scampered back to stop the ball on the line. I could see it hadn’t crossed (to the disbelief of many others further away from play), something confirmed when the young ‘keeper swore on nothing less than his mother’s life that it was not a goal. Liam’s Mum was safe – the goal was not given. What was it they used to say about Scottish goalkeepers? Alan Rough, eat your heart out. Sadly for the Colours a suitably piqued Yev then went on to score another three or four goals. 

The last goal of the night was a header from Danny, whereupon Simon called an end to proceedings. 

And once more to the Skinners Arms, where the TV was showing another 8 goal drubbing as England smashed the mighty principality of San Marino. We now go into our Easter break; unbelievably, when we reconvene in two weeks it will be British Summer Time. Make sure you bring your sun cream...

Hopes gubbered

With our leader otherwise engaged on urgent family business in Buckinghamshire, the roles of Chef de Mission and Bursar were filled this week by Danny. All eleven characters arrived – eventually – and I picked the two teams. An odd number meant one team had an extra man and the sides were as follows -

Bibs: Ian Gough, Danny, Mark, Liam, Paul, Simon Inky

Colours: Steve A, Mick, Nick, Geoff, me

As is becoming habit, one team rather ran away with things – the consensus seems to be that on a pitch so much larger than we have been used to the margins are that bit finer and even the slightest imbalance in the sides can prove costly. So it proved again on Friday, as the Colours stormed into a 3-0 lead before their nominal captain Danny came out of goal. The Bibs couldn’t make the extra man count soon enough and although the Colours’ legs began to tire after the forty minute mark their lead had stretched into the eight or nine goal region by this stage, so even a late flurry of goals would only have lent a modest sheen of respectability to proceedings.

The story of the game was that Steve’s muscular defending - and striking – allied with Mick’s vision proved too much for the Bibs who despite having the younger legs could not retain sufficient shape to punish the Colours. Steve and Mick both weighed in with at least a hat-trick apiece*, with Geoff also featuring on the score sheet following a characteristically mazy run. Nick and myself also got in on the act, although my goal was almost chalked off for being over head height, which opens up an interesting philosophical debate about our head height rule.

I believe that Danny got at least two of the Bibs’ goals; the final goal of the evening was definitely scored by Ian Arsenal following a slide-rule pass from Danny.

Final score: 11-4 to the Colours

And once more we went to the Skinners Arms; I didn’t stay for more than two pints, so am not sure how the evening ended, but talk seemed to focus on talk of Barnet’s final game at Underhill and Villa’s chances of avoiding the drop.

This week’s final word goes to Tony Gubba, who (as far as I am concerned) is the man responsible for the term “apiece” (*see earlier) entering the footballing lexicon. I have even found a link that illustrates the point (listen at 7:25). Farewell, you old Gubba.

Hit the North...

With Winter showing no sign of ending, I am starting to feel as if we are living in a dystopian future reminiscent of those terrifying dramas they used to show in the 1980’s about what life would be like in the wake of a nuclear holocaust. All that’s missing is radioactively rabid dogs.

Anyway, enough of the melodrama and on to the football. Last Friday saw the valedictory Coram Fields performance of one Boro Dave, or Geordie Dave for the geographically 

challenged. Sadly for Dave he was not to end up on the winning team, although he did score a goal to which I am going to apply the adjective ‘louche’. More of that anon. First, here were the teams

Bibs: Alan, Boro Dave, Simon Gas, Ross, (young, bearded) Mick, me

Colours: Yev, Mick, Steve A, Ian West Brom, Joe, new player and Ian Arsenal*

(*Ian Arsenal switched half way through)

The final score was, I think, 12-6 to the Colours, but I could be a bit off there. 

The story of the game was that the Colours made their time with the extra man count and generally organised themselves more effectively – they also benefitted from a debut performance of some promise from a lad whose name I didn’t catch but who probably made the difference between the two teams. 

Yev was obviously among the goals, but the Bibs could and should have done more in midfield to check his runs and get more bodies between him and the goal. Steve A used his strength and pace to good effect at the back to complicate life for what should have been a potent attack (Alan, Ross and Boro Dave should equal goals galore) and Mick helped dictate the tempo in midfield.

Other than a shedload of goals for Yev and the new bloke, I am struggling to recall many other scorers for the Colours, although I am fairly sure Joe stole in with a couple of sniffers’ finishes courtesy of some surgical passing from Mick.

The half dozen or so goals that the Bibs did get came chiefly from Dave and Alan; Alan got two, the second being the final kick of a game that Steve A had been trying to stop from around quarter to nine when it became apparent he was winning. An indirect free kick was knocked square to Alan and he drove it unerringly along the floor and into the corner. Boro Dave, in his swansong, also got in among them with a number of trademark scoring moves from his left foot and one outrageous flick with his standing foot that Gianfranco Zola would have been proud of. 

There was even time for one final berating of Simon’s refereeing, as well as some quite justified barracking of Steve’s gamesmanship for challenging a decision to award a free kick against him for shanking the ball well over head height.

So, good bye Dave; it’s been fun. Presumably Tony’s people have let him know that it may be safe to return to the fray, so long as we all sign waivers promising not to tackle him or look him directly in the eye. As for Dave, he’ll be planning a new life in the north east amongst his own kind, where given the amount of time he’s spent down in the big smoke he’ll probably be known as ‘Cockney Dave’. 

And finally, we would appear to have located a worthy successor to the Old Fountain’s Head – The Skinners Arms, just around the corner from St Pancras off the Euston Road. Decent beer, chairs and tables and no terrible music: all seems good.

In tribute to Boro Dave and his many goals and rants, I’ll leave you with a fellow Teesside legend who is also sorely missed...   

Desperately Seeking Simon

Last Friday saw the return of two Friday night football legends for the first time in some weeks (since the inaugural game at Coram Fields, in fact): Yev and post-punk legend Spizz, for whom this blog was created. With Simon Gas desperate for numbers it was disappointing yet unsurprising that Yev was late, (perhaps this is tradition in the frozen east) and the Ukrainian’s tardiness, allied with that from Boro Dave, resulted in two separate games.

The first finished 2-0 to the team in Colours; the winning side comprising Phil, Ian West Brom, Danny and Simon Gas against a somewhat diminutive Bibs team containing colossi such as me, Liam and Joe.

The arrival of the galloping Yevchenko and Dave saw a re-jigging of both teams, which looked like this

Bibs: Liam, Joe, Nick, Boro Dave, Spizz, Ian Arsenal

Colours: Yev, Phil, Ian West Brom, Danny, me, Simon Gas

Despite an enterprising and skilful midfield containing Joe, Liam and Nick, the Bibs too often over-elaborated and were not able to provide the ammunition that Dave usually thrives on; by contrast the Colours, driven on by an inspirational Danny, boasted Phil and Yev up front who were in merciless mood, punishing the Bibs time and again for pushing too many men too far forward. 

With the Bibs desperately seeking some solace from the relentless probing (cough) of the Colours front line they were around 10-15 occasions when either Phil or Yev had just the keeper to beat and the scoreline duly assumed that of a table tennis match. 

Here are some highlights from the tsunami of goals – two good headed finishes from corners for each team, (Liam and Danny supplying the noggins); one tight angle finish from Nick toward the end to lent a sheen of respectability to proceedings; one from Ian West Brom after linking up with Yev and Phil; a typically fluid effort from Dave; and even a goal from me, which is rare as hen’s teeth. And naturally, a shedload for both Phil and Yev. 

Sadly, it was not Spizz’s best night. Hopefully he’ll be back to full effect very soon.

Final score: 11-6 to the Colours 

A very quiet night pub-wise, with just me, Ian, Simon Gas and Yev making the Friend at Hand for a couple of swift pints. I think the final conversation of the evening was about man’s inability to kill fellow man without extensive training. It was that kind of night.