Another Summer over

Another Summer over then. Many apologies for the complete absence of the final two match reports of the old season. I did block out one day at the end of July to write them up, but my PC decided to install an ‘upgrade’, (i.e. a totally superfluous revision of some of its operating system which takes it one step closer to obsolescence and thus necessitating another financial outlay – that’s late capitalism right there), which literally took all day and hence made it impossible to do anything on the computer. After that, the last few weeks have gone by in a blur of rainy weather and Daddy Day Care stuff. Oh, and some work.

I have kept my notes from those games, so all is not lost. The two pictures here illustrate that the penultimate game of the 2016/17 campaign ended in a 6-4 win for the Blue team, with all ten goals accounted for: on the mark for the Blue team were Simon Inkpen, who my notes tell me “blasted from outside the area”, David, who I can still see spotting Nick off his line in goal and deliciously sailing the ball high over Nick’s head as he lurked guiltily on the edge of the area, Adolpho, who scored straight from the kick-off after the Yellow team had got back to 2-1, Yev, who evidently scored from “close distance” after a goalmouth scramble, Alan, from wide left on the left with his left foot, and Peter, who posterity does not provide us with any more details.

The four Yellow goals came from Alessandro, who passed the ball home, Will of the Fylde coast who the Coram Field parchment states “leathered in from outside the area” and a brace from Liam, both from “close range”. Well done, everyone.

The historical document capturing the final match of the season is, sadly, less detailed, but still records all the players and most of the goal scorers.

You can see for yourself who played – I’m a busy man, just enlarge the image – but the Yellows’ goals came from Andy (“a stooping header”), two from Mario, one after he very nearly ruptured my spleen in a collision as I vainly attempted to prevent from him scoring, with the pocket dynamo rattling the ball home from the ensuing stramash, Peter (again, no details) and Yev. 

Three goals for the Blue team, two of them from Mick. I’m usually accused of underplaying Mick’s always magnificent contributions, so let the record state that he got a credit for his brace, while the other goal is chalked off to the memory of the Unknown Goal Scorer. 

That game finished 5-3 to the Yellows, in case you weren’t paying attention.

Which brings us nicely up to date. What will this season bring? During a Summer break in which football finally shed any residual scraps of reason and credibility – I’m talking about you Kyle Walker, worth £50m for running Very Fast, I’m talking about Neymar, bought with the largesse of an oil-sodden Arab state and I’m talking about you, Arsène, who has reduced my club to a laughing stock – can the good denizens of Coram Fields remind us all about the true spirit of the game, where values such as team-work, integrity and old-fashioned hard work still count for something? Or will it all descend into moaning within five minutes of the kick off? I think we all know the answer. Come on then, Players of Friday Night, for the good of the game; dust off your boots and air that old Ayr shirt as we all count down to the real kick off to the season on Friday.

See you all there.  

 

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…