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.

Next goal wins!

It’s been a long time since I heard that phrase used in a context other than a Ron Manager-style nostalgia-fest, but I heard it on Friday night and the next goal duly won. On an evening when the British Summer seemed like a cruel joke and with the scores at 10-5 to the team in colours, Boro Dave suggested that we finish playing with the next goal, as it had become apparent that the 7.40 crew had cried off due to the monsoon enveloping north London. A hoof forward resulted in an over-the-head free kick off of Dave A and Ian Geary tapped the ball sideways for Steve A to rifle in the bottom right hand corner of the net and decide the match in favour of the team who were losing 10-5.

That was, I think, Steve A’s hat-trick on the night (he also hit the metalwork a couple of times, once with a shot that literally sang off the crossbar and soared high into the air) – Danny (who I thought was man of the match) bagged another for the team in bibs with Ross also on the score-sheet. The other bibbers were myself, Andy and Joe up against Dave A, Simon Gas, Paul, Yev, Boro Dave, Mick and Simon Inkpen. Yev and Dave terrorised the bibs with some characteristically menacing forward play and both bagged at least a brace, albeit with the aid of some goalkeeping slips from myself (mind you, the ball was so wet it felt like it had been greased with margarine). With Mick pulling the strings in midfield it was a tiring night, although the bibs showed much determination to come back from 5-1 at one stage and with better shooting may have got nearer the ten goals that the colours scored.

One of Yev’s goals was one of those acute angle finishes that appeared to have bent the known three dimensions, although the ball did appear to pick up backspin having come off Andy’s arm. That said, there was at least one goal scored at the other end that slithered through the keeper’s arms on a night that was as wet as an otter’s pocket. In fact, so heavy and relentless was the rain that by eight o’clock I felt like I was wearing chain mail (and played as much, to be fair).

With the golden goal ending proceedings on the field we repaired to the Fountain’s Head where talk centred on next Friday’s end-of-season gala evening which this year will take place in an American diner in Hoxton. Simon Gas has stated with some gravitas that this place has a ‘Chilled Out Vibe’ – I can’t imagine there are too many instances when Simon would use the word ‘vibe’, although I expect he deploys the adjective ‘chilled’ on a regular basis when ordering his butler to prepare a bottle of Chablis for dinner.

So, until Friday, when we can experience the Chilled Out Vibe in all it’s glory.

This post comes entirely from hearsay in the pub!!

Dear Readers, this post comes entirely from hearsay in the pub because last
Friday (June 12th, 2011) I went to Westminster Cathedral to the ordination of
five former Anglican vicars to the Ordinariate. This is a special ministry invented
by the current Pope, Benedict, otherwise known as the Panzerkardinal. This ministry
allows Anglican vicars, even if they are married, to be fast-tracked into the
Roman Catholic Church. This is despite the tinsy-weensy problem that the Universal
Church exacts a rule of celibacy from normal Catholic priests. Did I say normal?
I should have said real Catholic priests.

In any event, the two hour service started at 5.30pm so no way could I get to the game but I could amble along to the pub to get the post-mortem. The game ended
4-3 after the winning team was losing 1-3 at one stage. Apparently, there was
a bit of hand-bags between Big Dave and Boro Dave (the clash of the Daves).
If I was there I could have put my conflict resolution skills to good use
(I have not really got any!!). I don't even know if Spizz played or not.

I hope to play tonight (I have'nt been rotated yet!!) and I hope to get a three quid
discount on a) my bipolar disorder, b) my cancer, c)nobody passes to me and d)
a small honorarium for doing the blogs, although I would share the specific element
of the discount with Gooner Simon, who does excellent blogs.

Next week is our last game before the summer break and I think we are going to
some new American burger joint in Hoxton, which will be a change. Usually for
any end-of-season meals we tend to go to a curry and then complain it was a load of rubbish.

Last week saw a pulsating 2-2 draw!!

For the first time the Spizz irregulars managed to pick two matched and fair sides. It was a bit hot and sunny with Danny the
Diplomat actually playing with a baseball hat in the second half when we changed ends; an event which young Sam described as unprecedented!!

The first goal came when Mick K. with pure Brummie skill drove a rising left-foot shot early from a free-kick pass. It was a wonderful goal only marred by the fact that Mick did not come to the pub afterwards to talk it through. One factor was that I was Mick's marker and should have been a lot tighter.

This goal came after a long period at 0-0. We came storming back with Alex getting the equaliser with a bouncing shot while Danny got us ahead with a lovely long-range
shot. Perhaps we could have secured a convincing win if Joe had his shooting boots on but at least he got into the positions. I set him up in a central position and Joe could have chosen left or right but it was not to be. Big Ian said I had bottled it and should have got a shot off. However, Joe was in the far better position and
I had my back to goal.

The equaliser came dramatically when Stevie A. was judged to have played the ball in the area. What happened was the ball bounced off his head when he was standing on the penalty spot. His brother Big Dave said that no way it was a penalty while Big Ian commented that he did not believe a word the Ayr United supporter said
(about close football decisions). Yev strolled up and slotted the penalty in the top corner.

Spizz is playing in North London this Saturday check the website www.spizzenergi.com
while my local cafe is holding an art exhibition Saturday June 25th. This is
Chase Lounge, which is located at 129 Chase Side, Enfield, EN2 6NN.

Still no luck on the discount but the last match of the season is on June 24th and maybe I will have better luck in September.

20/05/2011: 2-2

A more competitive game this week, with last week’s mathematically challenging encounter a distantly weird memory. The team in colours took a two goal lead through Yev, back from his travels, before the side in bibs rallied to make it two apiece, both strikes coming through Alex who clearly hadn’t let Stoke’s FA Cup final defeat dent his confidence. 2-2 it finished, making it an easier game to report on. Dave A had stayed in goal for most of the game, urging on a team including his brother, Joe – who contrived to miss a hatshop full of chances (including one where he managed to put Simon Gas on his arse before coming over all Arsenal and overegging the pudding) – as well as Danny, Geoff, myself and the aforementioned Yev, who was also slightly profligate in front of goal.

The team in bibs boasted a twin strike force of Ross and Spizz – roll n rock, if you will – although their goals came from Alex in midfield. The rest of the bibbed team comprised Ian Geary, Hugh, Simon Gas and Simon Inkpen.

More busty barmaids in the Old Fountain’s head this week, as you’d expect with Summer hurtling towards us. From what I could gather, the post-match talk centred around Arsenal’s future chances of success without a change of manager, West Ham’s relegation and the fact Yev’s wife no longer buys him beer because they are married. Them’s the breaks, as they say.

Quantum Football

Following a four week hiatus as a result of Royal Weddings, religious holidays and visits to Cornish in-laws I returned to the Friday night football fray last week to see the newly svelte(ish) form of Spizz for the first time since September; the Prodigal Punk returns. Spizz took up his customary position of goalhanger centre forward par excellence alongside myself, Steve, Ross, Joe, a denim-clad Mick (looking even more like a Top Gear presenter than usual), Hugh and Keir. Collectively, we made up what is arguably the worst team ever to take the field at Finsbury Leisure Centre.

The final score may have been 11-1; it may also have been anything from 13-1 to 16-1. As you can imagine, it was difficult to pick out one goal in particular, or even one goal scorer. Boro Dave bagged at least two, as, I think, did big Ian. I certainly remember one first time finish from Ian that flew in. I am reliably informed that Alan got four goals, while Danny had to make do with a hat-trick. Frankly, Stephen Hawking would have fancied his chances of getting on the score sheet by the end – there were two goals, one from Danny, which appeared to have defied the laws of physics. Come to think of it, perhaps Stephen Hawking was involved. I tried to tackle Boro Dave as he shaped to shoot only to divert the ball past whichever schmuck happened to be charged with keeping goal for us at the time - I'm not still not sure how. By the end of the game the team in colours had reached a higher state of footballing consciousness; the players had only to conceptualise the notion of a goal using some form of collective mental synchronicity and the ball would zip effortlessly across the pitch and ping off a low flying pigeon, or a defender’s elbow and nestle happily in the corner of the net. Sheer quantum football.

Against this brand of soccer alchemy there was little the team in bibs could do. The one goal we did manage came courtesy of a trademark daisy cutter from, inevitably, Spizz which at least gave the quantum footballers pause for thought, however brief. As the rattle sounded Simon Gas opined that the sides weren’t that unbalanced – perhaps not in terms of the known three dimensions, but given the awesome cognitive power at their disposal it was like trying to down a fighter jet with a spud gun.

Was this a one-off, a once in a generation occurrence akin to the passing of Halley’s comet, or will next Friday see a new array of physic weaponry? Only time, such as it exists, will tell.

We are a couple of match reports behind!

I will try and get Gooner Simon to write up last Friday's match report but we are a couple of reports behind. The previous Friday we lost 6-1 when the opposition led by Gashead Simon and Danny (Liverpool FC) picked the teams. Simon has a blacklist of players he won't play with, although he might deny it. This selection policy led to a mismatch and Big Sam complained during the game that a lot of his colleagues could not trap a bag of cement. We could have got a few goals back if it was not for a couple of horrendous misses while Big Dave also missed a penalty when he hit the underside of the bar and the ball bounced out.

Spizz was again absent through injury but the star performer was probably Will, who combines pace with a willingness to make the right pass. He is not a regular player but obviously Gashead Simon had Will on his side.