Players of the year

The final game of the 2011/2012 Finsbury Leisure Centre season took place last Friday the 29^th July amid gloomy, cobalt skies and the distinct threat of rain. So, a typical English Summer’s day, then. I was asked by Simon Gas to select the teams for the last time until September and duly picked the following sides:

Bibs: Boro Dave, Spizz, Mick, Paul, Simon Ink, Ian West Brom, Sam

Colours: Simon Gas, Joe, Yev, Dan, Alan, me, Andy

Team selection was made tricky by the customarily late arrival of Yev, which saw the departure of young Yusuf, who was called upon to act as ballast in the early exchanges. I believe that Dan opened the scoring – it was certainly someone not wearing a bib, but the Bibs soon took a strangle hold on the game with Boro Dave and Spizz forming a traditional English little ‘n’ large strike-force. Some dead eyed finishing from Spizz and characteristic fluid runs from Dave built a 5-2 lead to the Bibs and all seemed lost for the team in Colours, with over elaboration in front of goal and an injury to Alan stymieing their progress.

But, like many English teams in the past, the Colours would not be beaten and having finally got a toe-hold in the game Yev and Dan made the difference with a combination of great finishing and muscular midfield running. A key moment was the penalty that Dan struck unerringly into the bottom left corner to make the scores 5-4 after Yev and Ian West Brom had tangled to send the latter tumbling into the box with the ball. Yev equalised soon after, once I managed to get hold of the ball and square it the Ukrainian maestro who rifled one in from well outside the D and the Colours then eased away with a goal more each from both Dan and Yev (and some poor goalkeeping), as well as lovely final finish from Joe. This was the first time that I can recall Joe and I playing on the same side and as the universe didn’t implode we should repeat things next term.

Final score: Colours 8 Bibs 3.

And so onto the Red Dog Saloon, via the Old Fountain’s Head. A quick word about the Fountain – it seemed far quieter in there than I would have predicted, but Jim’s previous recruitment and selection policy which could best be described as ‘traditional’ has seemingly been replaced by a determination to employ the most gormless bar staff in the capital.

The Red Dog itself was an altogether more sedate affair than last year’s bacchanal, partly as we started eating earlier and largely as we chose not to order the equivalent of a pitcher of beer each. After Spizz had blagged some free beer in true punk spirit, the rest of us got down to the hard yards of demolishing meat patties, fries and onion rings (with Yev making a concerted effort to make friends with the waitress). As is traditional, there were end of season awards, which, from memory, went as thus:

•  Player of the year – Dan
• Goalkeeper of the year – Simon Ink
• Irishman of the year – Alan
•  Plastic Paddy of the year – Mick
•  Most improved player of the year – Paul (Alan overruled the original decision, which was, err, me)

There was even an award for this blog, as I scooped “Sports journalist of the year”, despite the presence of Mick on the table who is a professional scribe for the FT.

And that, pretty much, is that.  

Have a good Summer drinking beer and watching the Olympics and see you back in Old Street for September. And thank you to Simon, for being, as ever, the football organiser par excellence. 

Boys of Summer

To the penultimate Friday of the season, and a fairly a high scoring game – 8-6 – as I picked two teams that both grew in numbers following kick-off.

Lining up for the Bibs were (initially) Simon Gas, Dan, the tall bloke with grey hair from the 7.40 crew, Joe, Andy, Geoff and Steve A 

Lining up for the Colours were Yev, Matt, me, Danny, Paul, Ian West Brom and Mick

Ergo, the game started as a seven aside, but an unannounced appearance from mercurial new wave legend Spizz, ostensibly to play a game of football but quite possibly to promote his gig on Sunday which coincided with the England v Italy game, meant that the Colours had a man advantage which duly resulted in their lead stretching to 7-3. To offset this imbalance Hugh joined the Bibs and the scores went from 7-3 to 7-6, before Matt made sure of victory for the Colours with a fine late goal that fatally punctured the hopes of the Bibs, who’d come within a goal of parity courtesy of a poacher’s finish from Andy.

With so many goals it is difficult to assign every one, but Yev returned from his sojourn in his homeland with at least three goals, seemingly spurred on by the injustice of his nation’s exit to England via the ghost goal of Donetsk. He formed a potent partnership with Matt, both six footers and reminiscent of the Shevchenko / Voronin forward line for the Ukraine, but with better hair cuts. Danny also scored at least one; I took a shot almost straight from the restart after the Bibs had scored and although my initial shot was charged down, Danny was on hand to win the loose ball and finishing unerringly into the corner. 

Other than Andy’s late goal Dan also got onto the scoresheet for the Bibs; their opener was a result of Dan not being closed down properly and passing the ball low into the bottom corner from about 15 yards.

Talking of the man himself, Spizz also managed to bag a brace; first a penalty, which this week he elected to take using the conventional method, i.e. kicking the ball rather than hopping over it (see last week’s blog) and secondly a fine run followed by a curling shot which the keeper really ought to have done better with. 

By the end the Colours were slightly grateful to hear the final rattle, which is testament to the tenacity of the Bibs, (as well as the impact that Hugh made). That said, we went from a situation where Simon Gas wasn’t sure that we’d have more than four aside at around twenty to seven to a game with sixteen people on the pitch, with predictable implications for the quality of the game.

I eschewed the delights of the White Lion (and Germany v Greece) this week, owing to the fact I had to work on Saturday. However, a full report on the final game of the season and the end of year dinner in the Red Dog Saloon awaits. Until next time....

We’re gonna score one more than you...

(Enough about England (for now)).

Somewhat unusually last Friday saw Ian pick the teams, and they lined up as follows:

Colours: Spizz, Dan, Steve A, Paul, Simon Ink, Hugh, Simon Gas,

Bibs: Boro Dave, Danny, me (following a late change), Matt, Alan, Ian

The game finished 5-2 to the Bibs. Goals came from Boro Dave, Alan (I think; if he scored and I didn’t credit him they’d be hell to pay) and Danny, who got on the end of a long, raking pass from Simon Gas which rolled back the years to tuck the ball home. Simon Gas almost repeated the trick for me, but Steve A in goals got out well to smother my left footed attempt to pass the ball into the net. The final goal was a late pile driver from Matt that dipped in the air and sailed past Paul to call time on the whole affair; with no 7.40ers in attendance and hence no one following us, we played on until around quarter to eight, when a combination of the three goal cushion for the Bibs and the looming kick off in Kiev called time on proceedings.

Other notable incidents a bizarre penalty from punk icon Spizz - a camp two-footed hop over the ball followed by an off target shot - and a testy verbal exchange between Steve A and Paul. Perhaps the most notable incident of all came before we took to the field, when Paul let loose a rallying cry of ‘Come on England!’ in the changing rooms prior to launching into the St Crispin’s day speech from Henry V, much to the confusion and, indeed, fear of everyone else in the vicinity. 

And so to the pub. With the Old Fountain’s Head now a distant and fading memory, the White Lion played host to the Sweden v England game. Given that the first time I went in there after playing football there were three men and a dog (and the saucy redhead behind the bar), I am starting to wonder whether, in fact, we are the avant-garde, as last Friday saw plenty of what can only be described as hipsters in there. They’ve clearly spotted something missing from the Old Fountain and have struck out to find that elusive Next Big Thing, the authentic London boozer complete with wheezy old geezers pink and vital from running around a five aside pitch. Then again, it could be the barmaid. As John Lennon said, avant-garde is French for bullshit.

And what about the England game? The best tournament game England have played, in terms of drama if nothing else, since the Argentina game in the 1998 World Cup. Bring on Italy. Come on football!

I digress.....

Firstly, many apologies for the blog appearing so sporadically (and so late) over the past two weeks; what with the Diamond Jubilee weekend (that three day week was a killer – how on earth did they manage in the early 1970’s?) and the start of the Euros it’s been difficult to find sufficient time. Normal service will resume from tomorrow, I promise. By way of a catch-up here follows another fortnightly round-up of action from the Finsbury Leisure Centre...

Friday the 29^th May saw a reasonably lively 5-3 game, with two nicely taken goals from Dan’s mate Matt, a fairly rare goal from myself which briefly levelled proceedings at 3 apiece and what Paul the Guvnor described as a “dinky” left footed goal from punk / new wave enigma Spizz, who was back for what has become an all too infrequent appearance, having seen the Punk Jubilee festival scheduled for that weekend cancelled at the last moment. 

Afterwards we headed once again for the White Lion, the Old Fountain’s Head having seemingly been eschewed by the Seven O Clock crew forever as a result of its apparent disdain for anyone under the age of 30 and not employed in the media. Of course, the White Lion is not without its own attractions, even if it is further away from the tube station and does not feature a beer garden on the roof. Chief among those attractions is the young redhead behind the bar, to whom I have promised to assign the adjective ‘vulpine’. Simon Gas seems particularly taken with this titian bombshell, something that conjures of images of Simon sporting a crimson hunting coat and a riding crop, bellowing ‘Tally-Ho!’ as he peers at her lasciviously over his Carlsberg with hounds at his feet.  I said that she was chief among the attractions of the White Lion, but actually the use of the plural was probably incorrect as aside from the 1980’s video jukebox and the stench of drains in the yard at the back there is little else memorable about the place. Nevertheless, we’ll be there tomorrow for the England v Sweden game.

Anyway, this is a Ronnie Corbett-style digression – I’m here to tell you about our game of football. Last Friday (so, that’s the 8^th June) saw Simon Gas pick the two teams and despite two excellent goals from Boro Dave, leading the line in swashbuckling style for the Colours, he and the rest of his team (including me, Paul, Mick, Steve A) went down 8-2 to a Bibs side featuring Andy, Dan, Danny, ParisIan, Sam , Simon Gas and the ringer Yousuf. And this after Boro Dave had taken the lead for the Colours and later levelled at 2-2. Alas, goals from, inter alia, Dan, Danny and Andy saw the Bibs run away with it. Other notable incidents from the game included a goodish save from myself at the expense of Simon Gas, cutting in from the left and letting fly a trademark curling daisy-cutter and one brief passage of play which saw me thread a delicious ball through to Paul who contrived to fluff his lines from around 5 yards, only to see the ball immediately hurtled forward to the other end where Andy lurked, Gerd Muller-like, on the edge of the area he was attacking and making no mistake with his finishing to complete a memorable brace. Both sets of posts came in for a bit of a pounding, (I was particularly cheesed off to see a left footed effort hit the bar and make a sound like a C sharp, if I’m not mistaken). 

And so to the White Lion to see the second game of Euro 2012 - Russia’s 4-1 mauling of their erstwhile Communist neighbours, the Czechs. It was like 1968 all over again. 

By way of an end of season spectacular, Sam and I have been working on a theme inspired by Dad’s Army that will be making its debut before the end of June.

Until then, come on football!

What a carry on...

Paul 'The Guvnor' writes....

Joe and Gashead handled the selection duties last week and the two teams lined up as follows: Gashead, Dan, Geoff, Simon Ink, Big Gough and me the Guvnor versus Mick K., Boro Dave, Big Sam, Dannie, Andy and Joe.

We scored four goals with a brace for Big Gough but how many did they score? Ten, twelve, sixteen? I lost count and I was in goal for most of the match. That did not count the shots against the post. Amazingly, we managed to score the first goal then kept it down to two. But after that itwas more or less one way traffic with the our team completely unfamiliar with the concept of TRACKING BACK.

Afterwards, Gashead discussed plans for the end-of-season dinner, which is set for Friday, June 29th.

 

There was not much of a post-match mortem in the pu,b but there was quite an intellectual discussion of the Facebook flotation, who was going to be the next Liverpool manager and a chat about camping holidays.

Terrace humour

As Spring resolutely refuses to turn into Summer Friday nights remain steadfastly chilly, but for the hardy souls who spend the end of each working week running around trying to play football it makes no odds: came sun, hail, rain or snow we turn up, pick sides, relive our youth and then go the pub.

Which is a roundabout way of introducing the latest match report. Last Friday saw a seven aside affair with the teams picked (once again) by yours truly with the following line ups:

Bibs: Simon Gas, Dan, Dan’s mate Matt, Parisian Ian (henceforth known as ParisIan), Joe, Andy, Ian West Brom 

Colours: yours truly, Simon Inkpen, Mick, Yev, Danny, Paul, Alan

Despite taking the lead through an opportunist’s strike from ParisIan (from near the halfway line), the Colours clawed their way back into the game via a brace from Yev and eventually pulled away to win 5-2, (although the scores were briefly 3-1). As Simon is often heard saying if his team lose, ‘it wasn’t a 5-2 kind of game’, but to be fair the Bibs had the lion’s share of possession with Dan and his buddy Matt pinging the ball around with a metronomic quality, only to be let down by some wasteful finishing, (although they twice struck the posts). The Colours prevailed chiefly as a result of some ruthless finishing from Yev, although Simon Inkpen took up some nice positions only to be denied by a combination of good goalkeeping and a couple of shanked shots. 

Thankfully there were no nasty injuries or major differences of opinion this week, although I thought I’d unfairly brought down Joe from behind when he was poised to pull the trigger – had it been under Premier league rules I would seen red. 

Other than that, there was precious little else to report on a night when a fine drizzle left many of the players with a first touch like a baby elephant, (to the extent that Mick opined that we should stay behind for extra training). 

Last Friday saw the debut for most (all?) of us on the Old Fountain’s Head roof terrace, with the combination of chill winds and rain clearing most of the top deck of Hoxtonites and the IT crowds. With the patio heaters on it was toasty up there and I ended staying much longer than planned, as time seemed to take on a different quality. Maybe it was the altitude – drinking at a height of 25 feet can affect you in strange ways. Sadly, still no sign of Spizz, although following a nostalgic conversation between Mick, Ian and Alan about the relative merits of The Dead Kennedy’s and The Damned talk turned to everyone’s favourite pint sized punk icon. It may have been Mick (it may have been someone else) that labelled Spizz the Michael Owen of punk. At that, my friends, is the very apogee of (beer) terrace humour.