One in the eye for youth

After the veritable feast of last week’s seven-minutes a pop footballing smorgasbord, it was back to the more mundane bread and butter of regular Friday night action. What looked initially like a energy sapping game of six aside morphed into a far more congested game of eight versus eight after the introduction of Yev, seemingly running on central Ural time, and two youngsters (‘having the time of their lives’, as they always say to the mascots): young Sam and Khalid. The somewhat curious decision was taken to put both teenagers onto the same side, meaning that the team wearing bibs featured two Sams (one young, one not-quite-so-young), in addition to Mick, Andy, Simon Inkpen and Geoff. I’ve missed someone out, but I’m jiggered if I can remember who.

Lining up in colours were myself, Simon Gas, Big Dave A and his brother Steve, Joe, Wing Commander Will and Ian, lurking dangerously up front in the traditional goalhanger position, (also known as the ‘Spizz role’) alongside Yev.

Perhaps unsurprisingly the fluidity and vim of two pairs of teenage legs told over the course of forty minutes, with Khalid opening the scoring after an Alan Hansen-defying pass across the back from Simon Gas was intercepted. Khalid also rifled in a second from an acute angle and smashed a third past yours truly. It wasn’t all one way traffic, however, with Yev poaching a goal following some defensive uncertainty and Ian Gooner taking a great goal which went like a tracer bullet into the bottom corner. WC Will also struck a post and Steve had a chance to score, but just failed to keep his shot down having done well to control a rising ball.

On that subject, I was the subject of some unfair criticism from Ian Gooner, who opined that my first ten touches had all ballooned up in the air. Rubbish. My first touch was a first time cushioned pass to which never left the deck. He was obviously too far away to see properly, mired as he was on the edge of the area.

Despite getting back to 3-1 and 4-2 a breakaway saw Mick steer the ball past the keeper with a first time shot which left the colours with too much to do. In terms of talking points, perhaps the main one was the ‘injury’ to Khalid’s right eye, following a challenge from Steve A. The ball was won cleanly enough, but Khalid screamed in agony and went down clutching his right eye in the manner of a latter-day King Harold. Close inspection revealed that, as suspected, the eye was a bit red, although that seemed to be more due to the fact he kept rubbing it while moaning about his vision being affected.

I think the final score was 5-3.

Little to report from a packed Old Fountain’s Head this week, aside from Andy’s generous round of whiskeys to mark his final appearance of 2011.

One final thought; Rest In Peace, Gary Speed.

Until next time…

Dargan Cup 2011

Here’s the promised second part of last week’s big match round-up, as promised by the Guvnor. Thank you for your kind words about the black team of which I was part – we were perhaps too cautious in the first game and paid the price for conceding two late goals against the greens and the blues. Anyway, on to the main business…

The second Dargan Cup took place last Friday evening, with five teams of seven(ish) fighting for the Jules Rimet-style trophy that accompanied last year’s inaugural tournament to commemorate the fact that Mr. Sam Dargan had found a wife.

Three of those teams – the greens, the blues and the blacks – were made up of the various characters who typically play from 7.00 pm to 7.40 pm, with the other two – the whites and the red and white stripes – coming from the 8.00 pm to closing time crew (at that’s what time they usually appear in the pub).

Props to Ian Gough for organising the round robin tournament, which saw each team play one another once. With just seven minutes for each match, the scorelines looked understandably binary, with a proliferation of 1-0, 0-0 and 1-1 scorelines. As the games unfolded a clear pattern emerged, with Team 4, i.e. the whites, winning all but one of the round robin games (a 0-0 draw with the black team. Clearly, the yin and the yang balanced on this occasion). With ten points from their first four games the whites – I’ll capitalise them to make their achievements seem more impressive – The Whites made the final, where they awaited the winners of the semi final between the greens and the blues. The greens, many people’s tip before the start, including big names like Yevgeniy, Alex from Stoke and Big Dave, found themselves facing the prospect of penalties to make the final and seek vengeance from their earlier smiting by The Whites. Sadly, the wizard of the Potteries followed the path of so many legends of English football and failed from the penalty spot to send the Blues through, (as they made the final they too can earn Proper Noun status).

White versus Blue saw an end to the binary system as goals from the Theo Walcott lookalike and Gooner Kev saw the Whites take the trophy, meaning that for the second time in its two year history the Dargan Cup belonged to the 8.00 pm crew. Actually, it belongs to the Old Fountain’s Head, assuming possession is nine tenths of the law, but there you go.

It was sad to see intra-team bickering from the Blues as the final whistle approached, with Mick giving Sam some verbals, which was a bit off considering the reason we were all there. What can you say; it’s a passionate game.

For the record, the final table stood as follows:

1. First place: White Team, aka ‘Get Back & Defend’ (Team Four) 10 points; winners of the final
2. Runner-up: Blue Team, aka ‘Simon and the Cruyff turns’ (Team Two) Six points; losing finalists
3. Third place: Green Team, aka ‘Geoff's around the pitch wanderers’ Six points; losing semi-finalist
4. Fourth place: Black Team, aka ‘Aiton's High Kickers’; Four points
5. Fifth place: Red and white stripes, aka ‘Lags Eleven’ [they looked a bit rough]; Two points
   

Some members of Lags Eleven and other miscellaneous participants from other teams played on into the Friday night; I’d already got changed to get to the pub (the comments on the semi-final came via hearsay and post-match interviews). A cracking turn-out at the tournament for the inevitable post-mortems; many thanks to all those who made the effort, despite not playing regularly due to childcare commitments and injury.

And so on to 2012’s tournament… here’s to you, Mrs. Dargan.

This is just a prologue to the main match report of Gooner Simon!!

Last Friday was extraordinary. There was a veritable blizzard of emails between the various members of the Dargan Cup teams over bibs, colours etc. They included a bombshell email from Blades Andy about the possibility of a German tour in February. Seven guys have already committed while there will be no WAGs to avoid the disastrous World Cup campaign of the English team when their wifes and girlfriends went on shopping sprees designed to increase further Germany's current account surplus.
The actual Dargan Cup was a resounding success brilliantly organised by Big Ian G. with
an amazing 36 players turning up on time. I got a couple of games, one improbably leading the attack for the Blues, which we actually won. In the first game Big Ian made an amazing save sticking out a leg to keep out a deflected shot, which could have led us to lose 2-0 and miss out on our eventual place in the final.
I thought the Black Tops had a very creditable performance, not losing one of their four games, scoring two goals and actually taking the courage to rotate their goalie. The Greens were very pleasing to the eye with Alex, Yev and Ross carrying out waves of attacks. However, the Blues got to the final to represent the 7pm teams courtesy of our only outfield goal when Alan Morg.'s speculative shot down the middle was helped in by the opposition goalie and by a save from Gashead Simon in a penalty shot-out against the Greens.
This blog was originally started to chart a possible team visit to German involving punk star Spizz. If the Frankfurt visit comes off, I hope Spizz can come although he is into all things Italian at the moment. Unfortunately, he missed the Dargan Cup but sent his good wishes!!
Gooner Simon said he would do the match reports. I missed some of the play because I had to go and find a match ball, which had been kicked out into the bushes. However, I thought the two players of the tournament were Alan Morg., who could have got a possible Golden Boot award, if was not for a stunning, diving save from Blades Andy onto the post, and Lyall, who played for the White Team, who deservedly won the Dargan Cup.

PS. Just to give our blog readers some info. In the past month there have been 71 pageviews from the Netherlands, 69 from Germany, 53 from the United Kingdom, 22 from the United States and 12 from Georgia. Your interest is very much appreciated. Best regards from Gooner Simon, the Guvnor and Spizz.

Scottish goalkeepers, plus Dargan Cup preview

Apologies for the delay in getting this posted; I spent the majority of Monday evening and Tuesday alternating between my settee and my toilet with a nasty bout of vomiting and diarrhoea. The whole experience has left me somewhat discombobulated, so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t accurately recall all of last Friday’s game.

The bibs rang out 4-2 winners with Yev doing most of the damage for the bibs with at least two goals, one of them a trademark howitzer from an acute angle that managed to wrong foot Simon Gas between the sticks. At the other end Dave A stood firm in goal, bar one uncharacteristic blunder that brought all of those 1970’s jokes about Scottish goalkeepers flooding back like a BBC2 nostalgia show. Playing for the colours were Joe, still picking the teams with great aplomb, as well as luminaries like Andy, Steve A , Ian Gough (goalhanging with great effect) and the aforementioned Simon Gas.

In terms of other memorable incidents, Andy was the victim of a very harsh handball decision on the edge of his own area, although this lead to very little; a few minutes later Steve A hurtled out of goal – and his area – and conceded a free-kick. Simon Gas, Steve’s team-mate, later admitted it should have been a penalty, but decided not to say anything as his team were losing.

Boro Dave, are you reading this?

And so to the Old Fountain’s Head, where preparations for Friday’s Dargan Cup began apace. As I write there are three provisional teams, (see below), with the following rule changes for the big night:

- The ball will not go dead when the back boards are hit
- There is no direct back pass to goal keeper

I think you’ll agree there’s plenty of scope for both calamity and comedy, particularly as people get progressively tired the longer the night wears on.

Join me next week for a full review of the second Dargan Cup, currently residing behind the bar in the pub.

	Team : Aiton's High Kickers	Team : Geoff's around the pitch wanderers	Team : Simon and the Cruyff turns
	Black Tops	Green Tops	Blue tops
	Stephen Aiton	Alex Charnley	Keir Mcumiskey
	Danny Woodier	Dave Aiton	Michael Kavanagh
	Dave Landos	Yevgeniy Zenchenko	Alan Morgan
	Simon Inkpen	Ross Bicknell	Ian Gough
	Will	Andy Moore	Simon George
	Ian Geary	Geoff Pruton	Sam Dargan
	Simon Jarvis	Joe cox	Alex friend Dan
			Paul Tanner

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.