Blue Friday

The second Friday of the new season saw significantly more agreeable weather conditions than the horrific monsoon which marked the inaugural game of the 2013-14 campaign. Simon Gas’s Summer clarion call to find new players continues to reap rewards as another bumper crop of amateur footballers took to the fray.

From memory there were 18 of us, lining up as follows

(New) Bibs: Simon Gas, Alex, Phil, Kiwi Nick, Alan, Steve, me, Tony, Andy

Colours (and one old Bib): Dan, Matt, Danny, goalkeeper Phil, bearded Nick, Ian, Mick, Geoff’s mate, Ross 

The chief talking point of Friday’s game was undoubtedly the debut of some spanking new blue bibs. These replace the doughty yellow efforts which I think it’s fair to say have seen some traffic over the years. New and sparkly the new Bibs may be, but for those of us who are colour blind they played havoc with our eyesight as several players on the opposing team took to the field wearing dark blue shirts, notably Geoff’s mate, who donned a Bristol Rovers kit for the evening. Actually, I’ve just proved my own point here, as the power of the interweb tells me that Rovers’ away kit is black and purple, (refreshingly earthy adjectives from the Gas there, rather than, say, blackcurrant and midnight blue).  

Nevertheless, once some initial confusion over apparel had settled, (Dan wore a yellow bib for instance, to denote that he was not playing for the blue Bibs, but for the Colours) another entertaining match unfolded. The Bibs took an early lead and looked ominously strong, so Simon Gas served to handicap them by switching me to their ranks while beckoning on Mick, who had been calling out to Simon plaintively from behind the goal, to play for the Colours. 

Simon’s efforts to undermine the Bibs proved fruitless however, as they ran out handsome 7-2 winners. In among the goals was Alan, who intercepted a blindly hit backpass and calmly rounded the keeper, Alex, Phil, the prodigal Tony who was enjoying the freedom afforded by the Bibs’ intelligent midfield play and even myself. I would have scored twice were it not for a controversially ruled out goal following a drop ball that Simon Gas adjudged not to have been taken correctly, the ball (allegedly) failing to hit the floor first. This was one of a number of argument-provoking on-field decisions, with the other ongoing refereeing black hole being the head-height rule from corners.  

Away from issues associated with officialdom the Colours did make a number of decent chances but struggled to wade through Steve and Andy at the back and despite two decent goals from Matt, in what will be a valedictory performance before his expedition to south America, they failed to get closer to the Bibs’ score, despite enjoying plenty of the play.

A smaller crowd at the pub this week, but low numbers failed to stymie a lively debate concerning Scotland’s proposed independence from the rest of the United Kingdom. Goalkeeping Phil, Ian, Mick and Alan were the debaters in question; unsurprisingly the truculent Celts thought that Caledonia should be finally break free from centuries of English perfidy, conveniently ignoring the gusto with which many Scotsmen contributed to the spread of the British Empire. Ian pointed out that they had enough oil and whisky to make a go of things, but I think we all agreed it would be a shame to lose such a brilliant flag as the Union Jack. If they do leave the union all England need to do to maintain an economic hold over the frozen north is slap a 500% export tax on Buckfast. They’ll be hankering for a return of the Queen before closing time.

After the deluge

After what was pretty much a three month Summer break from football – watch and learn, Sepp Blatter – we returned to the newly refurbished Coram Field playing surface last Friday on the 13th September to a veritable monsoon. Slightly taking the edge of the freshly laid Astroturf, the colour of which I can only describe as luminescent, the hour’s play must have seen something like an inch of rain and rendered every man jack of us looking like a drowned rat.

Despite the deluge, a bumper crop of footballers young and old turned out for the first game of the 2013/2014 season. I’m not going to name every player, not so much because I can’t remember, but principally because I didn’t know everyone’s name. That’s how many people were there.

Still, tradition behoves me to make a stab at naming the two teams. Here goes:

Colours – me, Simon Gas, Danny, Alex, John (my cousin), David, the prodigal Tony, Paul, Ross

Bibs – Ian Arsenal, Matt, Dan, the last Yev, Phil, Kiwi Nick, Bearded Nick, Steve and two fellas I didn’t know, one of whom had to depart after smashing a tooth following an collision with the other

I make that 19 people – na-na-na-nineteen – which seems to tally with Simon Gas’ pre-match list, although one of the two new blokes left after a nasty collision which left him spitting blood (and quite possibly teeth) and I can’t recall seeing Phil for longer than the first twenty minutes or so.

Anyway, I believe the final score was 9-7 to the Bibs, (they won, anyway).

If some people hadn’t played since June then they certainly didn’t show it. Sadly, my rustiness was all too evident – my first attempt at a pass off to the right touchline for Danny rolled harmlessly out of play. Everyone laughed. I did exactly the same thing about three minutes later. No-one laughed.

Among the goals were Matt, who scored one excellent goal after nutmegging both me and then Simon Gas; Ross, following a short pass from myself; Yev, naturally; Alex, who scored a wonderfully entertaining effort in the manner of a dribbling wizard from the 1940’s; Tony, back from exile; my cousin John, following some mercurial footwork on the left; and Ian, who swivelled on the proverbial 6d and slammed one in from an acute angle. Given the torrid conditions there were a few efforts that slipped on a surface which was greasier than a Scottish chip-shop and skidded through fingers, hands and other sodden extremities.

All in all, great entertainment (not that anyone could have seen through all the rain).

I am pleased to report that The Skinners Arms is still open and was being patronised heavily by the various players who needed reviving. I left as Yev had bought Ian a quadruple whiskey in return for loaning him some bicycle equipment over the Summer. I hope the ride home went well, Ian.

Welcome back.

In a dramatic move, the Guv'nor is proposing a code of conduct

In a dramatic move, the Guv'nor is proposing a code of conduct

In a dramatic move following a sensational pitch inspection of the new 3G surface at Coram Fields, the Guv'nor proposed a code of conduct for players to sign before the new season. This would include the individual game covering the 100 nicker cost of the pitch by the players, who actually played in that game. So for instance, if we have ten players, then they will pay £10 each. If we get twenty players, then it would be a fiver each. Certain guys do not do the fair shift in goal, or pass, or wash the bibs. Then, they should pay a fine. Any monies collected would be put in a fund for future physio, because we are not getting any younger.

High Summer

With the Summer transfer window wide open and silly season upon us, I thought I'd share a Haiku that I composed this morning on the train to work.

See you all in September; Geoff, we're sending an elite squad of middle aged footballers to help you get back from Manila.

Another Summer.

 

Demands, pleas, swoops and warchests.

 

Whither the football?

Chase Farm hospital

(This posted at Paul's request)...

Ever since he went bonkers after working at a media multinational, the Guv'nor (aka Enfield Dataman, Don Quijote de la Mancha and Costacurta to his mates on the astroturf), Mr Tanner has been keeping a close eye on the Chase Farm Hospital situation. 

Now he is moving up the gears to help save the A&E department at the North London hospital, which is earmarked for closure this November 2013. 

Any ideas on how to prevent this, gratefully received. 

His new blog (Don Quijote de la Enfield) looks like it is going to be completely barmy and shows the same signs of madness of his La Mancha hero.

Raw Power

First of all, many apologies for the delay in posting this final match report of the 2012/2013 season, a season which saw us move from our historic home of the Finsbury Leisure Centre to Coram Fields, a location which places us firmly in the Bloomsbury Set. The tardiness in getting this to you is unforgiveable, but a combination of work pressures and mid-Summer ennui (Je suis Thierry Ennui) has left this report unfinished and unwritten. Until now, that is.

The last Friday night match until September finished 6-3 to the Colours and the two teams lined up as follows:

Bibs: David, Steve, Liam (following a swap with Ian Geary), Ross (following Yev’s arrival), Phil, Paul, Ian Gough, Big Phil,

Colours: Yev (eventually), Simon Gas, Kiwi Nick, Bearded Nick, Andy, me, Liam (until half-time)

As you can see, there was a fair bit of chopping and changing which left some players with the philosophical trauma of deciding whether they had won or lost – if you score two goals for the winning team but are shifted onto the opposition midway through the game, are you both victor and vanquished? – although I think we can all agree that football was the real winner.

The notes which I hastily scribbled down after the game record that Yev, Liam and the Bearded Nick, who Ian seemed intent on goading for reasons unclear to all but himself, all appeared on the scoresheet. Following his traditional late arrival Yev’s contribution proved decisive with two (at least) trademark finishes, including the final goal of the campaign right at the death, as he rounded the keeper to touch into the empty net. Liam, a sort of Caledonian Lionel Messi, was in great form for both teams and it took some increasingly desperate defending from the Colours to fend off a late resurgence from the Bibs. Andy in particular was immense at the back (and in goal), while Simon Gas rolled back the years with a classy display that held the Colours’ shape even as they came increasingly under the proverbial cosh.

One of the Colours’ goals came after an unholy scramble which saw the ball ping off the back of a defender and into the path of (I think) Phil, who showed no sign of nerves and calmly steered past an exasperated Andy and into the far bottom corner.

Other notable incidents, at least from my memory, were some fresh air shots from at least two players (including me), an effort which Dave pushed onto the crossbar (me again) and a spectacular tumble which saw one of the players fall onto both knees in the manner of a GI in the film Platoon, (yep, that’ll be me again). The other outstanding memory of the match was Yev’s outburst toward the end as the ball careered off onto one of the neighbouring pitches for the umpteenth time. The group of sullen youths who were determinedly ignoring our exhortations to return the ball had proved irksome throughout proceedings, leaving an enraged Yev to declare – very loudly – that the young lads in question were terribly irritating and that ‘they just stand there like a [see you next Tuesday]’. Too true.

The end of season gala dinner dance took place in the curry house next to The Skinners Arms, somewhat to Simon Gas’ disappointment as he was hoping for a cold buffet in the pub. I can honestly say that it was the best Indian I’ve been out for in ages – the food was excellent, the staff were most hospitable (especially the statuesque Polish waitress who looked somewhat incongruous amongst the diminutive Bengali men) and the atmosphere was convivial without repeating the bellicosity of two years ago. Well done, everyone.

And what of Spizz, I hear you ask? Well, I am pleased to relay a confirmed sighting of the enigmatic post-punk icon from Yoko Ono’s Meltdown Festival, where Iggy and the Stooges played last week at the Festival Hall. Spizz was at the bar – obviously – without a ticket, (ditto) – and regaled my wife and I with a tale of the last time Iggy Pop had played at the Festival Hall, in 2008.

Spizz had joined the Lizard King on stage, whereupon the animated car insurance salesman had mistaken our Spizz for John Lydon. And so it came to pass that around five songs into last week’s set Iggy once more exhorted his audience to join him on stage and in amongst the hundred or so young people pogoing around Iggy was none other than Spizz, identifiable by his leather jacket, which bears the legend ‘Spizzenergi’, his trousers which bear the legend ‘Spizzenergi’ and an LED belt display that transmits the word ‘Spizzenergi’. Ticket or no, Spizz had got into the gig, reached the stage and started plugging his next gig on the 13thJuly. And then he fell over. Still, that’s rock n roll.

See you in September…