My Left Foot

From feast to famine in seven days; for the first time in 2015 we were really struggling for numbers on Friday, with a late rash of sick-notes arriving at Simon’s Muswell Hill mansion. This left us with just thirteen players for the evening game, (seven less than last week). 

Simon welcomed back Caledonian magic man Liam and put him alongside fellow Jocks Mark and Steve in, appropriately enough, Blue bibs.

The rest of the line-ups for you…

Blues: Liam, Mark, Steve, Yev, Tony, Specialist goalkeeper Phil

Yellows: Danny, Simon Gas, me, Ross, Ian Gooner, Paul and Bristol Paul

I don’t think I was alone in thinking that the teams looked unbalanced, but Simon was banking on Liam not quite being at full fitness to offset the younger – and more energetic  - legs of his Blue team-mates. Nevertheless, the Blues roared into a rapid fire four goal lead, with Steve forcing home the second from close range following nice interplay on the right and Tony passing one home with his trusted left foot, (of which more later). Naturally, Yev was also in amongst the goals.

At four-nil came the best passage within the game as the Yellows regained some shape and really ought to have got back in contention. Tony and latterly Liam were, however, in inspired form in goal and coupled with Steve’s thou-shalt-not-pass school of defending chance after chance went begging.

The Blues then grabbed a couple more – both trademark fierce shots from Yev, I believe – to make it a tennis score. However, at this point in proceedings came the two incidents that sadly defined the evening. First Simon Gas put in what was commonly adjudged to be a fair, yet firm tackle on Yev that saw him win the ball and then catch the Ukrainian on the follow-through. Yev was unable to continue owing to the ensuing strain on his calf and a free kick was awarded - for handball, (Simon had ended up handling the ball as he lay prone on the astro-turf). Tony was positively scornful at mine and Ian’s exhortations that Simon had won the ball and this seemed to sour his mood, which is never exactly sunshine and lollipops at the best of times. 

Soon afterwards the Hampstead auteur took exception to some perceived slight, (Danny had the temerity to tackle him) and an already angry Tony threw his arms up in rage and disgust and promptly exited the pitch and the match, Blue bib cast asunder. Given that his team were winning six nil and Simon had apologised to Yev for the challenge mentioned in the previous paragraph, it was hard to see what could have piqued his ire to the extent that a run of the mill challenge provoked such an extreme reaction. Perhaps it was Danny’s earlier calls to his Yellow team-mates to jockey Tony onto his right foot, as it is allegedly weaker than his left. ‘My right foot is better than my left’, insisted the north London cineaste. 

No matter – the Blues were now down to four men, (although Paul Guvnor did cross the Rubicon to make it five aside), yet the Yellows still made very heavy weather of getting any goals, Ross eventually nodding home the one consolation after a myriad of misses, none more glaring than mine when I failed to poke home a rebound from all of about four yards. It is probably fair to say that we’d strayed into the realms of farce by this stage and following yet another miss from myself (blazing over the bar from just outside the area) we called it a night before the next crowd had even come on.

Final score – Blues 6: Yellows 1

Obviously, following such an almighty strop Tony didn’t stick around at the Skinners, table or no. Yev had applied some ice packs to his sore leg in the changing room and duly joined the rest of the crew in the pub for some post-game refreshment and analysis. Topics under discussion included (ahem), ‘marital relations’, football (as ever) and the chances of seeing Tony next week (slim).

Ten Nets Extra

Last Friday night saw a near enough full eleven aside contest, as 2015 continues to be characterised by record turn outs at Coram Fields. By the time the perennially tardy Yev and shower-dodger Tony arrived we had two teams of ten; this despite Simon’s initial selection of 11 versus 8. And we wonder why the banking system is in crisis.

Let the record state that two teams were as thus:

Yellows: Alex, Simon Gas, Simon Ink, me, Tony, Ian Gooner, Yev, Bristol Paul, Khalid, Nick

Blues: Alan, Ian Baggies, Ross, Mark, Mick, Patrick, Danny, Daniel, Dave, Spizz

I thought that the Yellows looked marginally stronger on paper and so it (eventually) proved, although not before the Blues had taken the lead - twice. Young Patrick opened the scoring, possibly via an assist from his old man, before the Yellows got back on terms. Alan then scored to make it 2-1 to the Blues before a rare own goal from Danny following a sharp cutback from the by-line from Yev made it two apiece. 

With so many people on the pitch space was very much at a premium, but quality will out and Alex, Mick and Patrick all impressed in the middle while Tony marshalled the Yellows superbly at the back. Ian Gooner, fresh from his Belgian odyssey, played in a somewhat bold outside left berth and set up one goal and narrowly missed gut barging in another. As the big man himself subsequently opined, he would have been better off using his feet. 

The final two goals of the evening both went to the Yellows – Yev bagged what has been described as a “smug” header (© David) and the final score was 4-2 to the Yellows. (Much thanks to Alan for helping me fill in some of the blanks there. Apologies if you scored and I didn’t mention it, (they’ll be another game on Friday)). 

Other notable events include Danny spanking the ball out of play on the far side – Simon and Danny addressed the situation via an old plastic chair and a recycling bin after the game – and the ball disappearing into the night sky on several occasions and narrowly avoiding coming down with snow on it (and braining someone) as both teams elected to eschew any sense of playing out from the back and instead adopt Wimbledon circa 1988 tactics.

Following Simon Gas’s proposal to abandon the Skinners owing to a dearth of seating we ended up with sufficient seating to accommodate everyone this week, although there was a schism as Alan, Ian and myself ended up at the rear of the hostelry adjacent to the fire (and the gents) while Yev, Simon, Ross, Tony and others were in the front window. After a thirty minute discussion on cycling, I think our conversations touched on various topics, including some old favourites and Tony Adams’ view that ‘you need seven in the tunnel’ to rely on when things get tasty. 

Who are our seven? That’s your first subject for debate this week.

Bang.

Ian In Bruges?

Another decent turn out this week as the New Year exercise regimes continue apace. Once again Simon Gas had a veritable smorgasbord of players to choose from. The main man went for the following sides - 

Yellows: Alex, Ian Gooner, Paul, Bristol Paul, Mick, Patrick, Ross, Tony, Mark

Blues: Simon Gas, Yev, Spizz, me, Kiwi Nick, Simon Ink, Khalid, Daniel, Danny

As you can see, nine plays nine there and with Yev just about on time only the Kavanaghs were slightly late. I thought that the Blue team looked marginally stronger on paper, but performances on the pitch soon belied that notion, with Alex in imperious form in the middle of the park and Mick and Patrick enjoying a filial telepathy which proved difficult to curb, despite the attentions of the Blues.

The Yellows took the lead from the penalty spot after Kiwi Nick unceremoniously upended Alex inside the box; Patrick coolly despatched the penalty low into the bottom left hand corner, leaving Danny with no chance. As alluded to previously, Alex was proving a real handful in the middle of the park and with Ross and Patrick making runs on either side – into what football punditry fashion somewhat behoves me to label the ‘pockets’ – aided and abetted by both Alex and Tony, the Blues soon extended their lead. (Incidentally, Mick keeps talking of paying Patrick “pocket money”, so presumably Kavanagh Junior is taking up these positions on a pay-per-play basis). 

Kiwi Nick soon put the disappointment of the penalty behind him and put in a sterling shift at the back, as the Blues tried to stem the inexorable tide of Yellow attacks. However, the Yellows’ superior movement in the middle eventually saw them stretch their lead to 4-0, the final score of the four coming after Ross had drilled a shot at me in goal which I could only parry onto the bar whereupon it bounced down for Alex to snaffle up from all of around two feet. 

At this point I opined that Danny should move into a more central position as the Blues were finding it very difficult to get hold of the ball so that they could pass it forward to the potent looking attacking force of Yev and Spizz. Whether or not anyone was listening is a moot point, as Danny’s midfield tenacity soon saw a loose ball come free for Spizz – who had earlier eschewed the opportunity to shoot from a distance of around 8 yards and instead elected to pass sideways to Yev, who was not quite ready (where is the real Spizz and what have you done with him?) – who made no mistake and made up for his earlier uncharacteristic selflessness by steering the ball past Ian Gooner in nets. Danny himself got another one back following some pleasant interplay on the left, but despite a myriad of chances to get closer to the Yellows’ tally of four goals (Simon Ink had a great chance to score, but went for a Di Canioesque mid-air bicycle kick with predictable results), the scores remained at 4-2 to the Yellows.

Other notable moments included a one handed save by myself from a header from Patrick which was reminiscent of David Seaman’s save against Paul Peschisolido in an FA Cup Semi Final against Sheffield United and a couple of disputed handball calls that managed to stoke Tony’s not inconsiderable ire. 

All in all a very good game. 

And thus to the pub, where Spizz enjoyed some birthday drinks – San Miguel in a Heineken glass, an order that managed to bamboozle the Polish barmaid nearly as much as his lateral pass in front of goal had done to his team-mates during the game – and Ian Gooner essayed his travel plans to Bruges the following morning. Whether or not he got there is open for debate, as his train was scheduled to leave St Pancras as 7.00 am the following morning, which may mean he got through the tunnel before it closed, or else it may mean he and his wife are still enjoying super strength beer in Belgium’s medieval masterpiece. 

Did Ian get to Belgium? And if so, did he get back? Did Spizz reach the fabled 5,000 followers on Facebook mark? Did Mick increase his son’s pocket money? Find out the answers to these and other questions this Friday at 7.00pm in Coram Fields, near London's Russell Square.