Happy New Year...

Hello and welcome back to what has sadly become more of a monthly round-up of events from the world of Coram Fields Friday night football.

The last time I wrote anything was before Christmas; since then we’ve had three games, two of which I was present at, the much-vaunted Christmas outing to the Comedy Store (of which more anon), the big day itself (i.e. 25^th December) and the start of yet another New Year.

My principal recollections of the final game of 2017 was of a lively three-all draw in which I turned Assistant-in-Chief and indirectly or directly set up all three goals for whichever team I was representing on the night, playing the role of a middle aged, bald Mesut Ozil. David opened the scoring, if memory serves, with a speculative effort that foxed all and sundry, including the goalkeeper; the second was nodded in by Liam after I eschewed a pass to Tony (much to his chagrin) and clipped the ball to the far post, while the final goal came from a corner that was gobbled up by that most voracious of strikers, Andy. No idea about the three goals on the other team, but well done to whoever scored them. 

That match formed a prelude to the annual Coram Fields Christmas jamboree, which saw Danny lead an evening of high jinks and big laughs at the Comedy Store. I’m relying on second hand reports here because they went to the late session – well past my bedtime – but it would seem that in addition to Paul being asked to leave the venue owing to a bout of narcolepsy, Ian Gooner was embroiled in some good natured repartee with one of the acts. Highly uncharacteristic of Ian to pipe up during the show, I’m sure we’d all agree.

I missed the first game back after the break as I was still away, but it sounded like a decent turn out for the inaugural match of 2018 from what I’ve heard, which brings us on to last Friday’s game.

Here are your two teams:

Blues – Ian Baggies, Nick, Bristol Paul, Simon Gas, James, Mick, Peter, Ross and Mario

Yellows – me, Ian Gooner, Simon Ink, Steve, Joe, Danny, Patrick, David and Liam

That’s nine players each and, wonder of wonders, virtually everyone was on the pitch at the start. Hopefully we can have more of the same this year. 

We then had a lively and close-fought contest, (although the final score belies that somewhat). I think that Liam got the goalscoring underway with a typically adroit piece of footwork and a calm dispatch, but the Blues were back on terms before the end of Danny’s tenure in goal, with either Ross or Mario passing home following a forceful charge through midfield from Peter.

The story of the game was that despite boasting an array of potent attacking options, the Blues were possibly a little too weak defensively, although Simon Gas pulled off one spectacular save which was impressive enough for him to apply the sobriquet ‘Cat’ to himself, (Ian opined that ‘Bagpuss’ would have been more appropriate). Similarly, later in the game James denied Liam and Patrick with some stupendous goalkeeping work.

By this stage the Yellow team had taken a lead, with Liam being the principal tormentor – the Yellow’s fourth goal was a great team move that involved me, Ian, Patrick before Liam applied the coup de grace. The Blue team did get one more goal, the specifics of which elude me, I’m afraid (did Nick score?), but it had started to turn into one of those nights for the Blues by the end, with shots coming back off posts and a combination of great goalkeeping from Simon Ink and wayward finishing proving costly.

I, of all people, managed to get the final goal, as Patrick glided through what remained of the Blues’ defence and generously side-footed the ball to me, whereupon I dug out a spinning left-footed shot that managed to evade Peter’s attempt at a save owing a) to the top spin on it and b) the fact that, frankly, it could have gone anywhere. 

Final score: Yellows 5 – Blues 2

Onto the pub then. 

In amongst the catching up of one another’s Christmas and New Year holidays, we had the usual post-match discussions, which included some potted histories of various Old Street / Coram Fields characters, before Ian Gooner gave David and myself what might be best termed a management workshop on how to make team work and office life in general more interesting, with some extraordinary vignettes of how to use calendars and team meetings in what we might term an innovative way, (the idea of making everyone wear a Moeen Ali mask during an operational catch-up was particularly inspired). David and I were trying to persuade him to jack in the day job and set himself up as a somewhat leftfield consultancy agent advising management stooges on how to motivate staff via childhood regression techniques and esoteric meeting titles. Something along the lines of ‘Managing: Punk (Ian’s) Surprising Solutions (PISS).  

I’m away on Friday, so your next match report will follow in around two weeks’ time.

Seasonal felicitations!

My daughter’s appalling cold and conjunctivitis means that I have had to take time off work and for readers of the Friday night football blog very loosely connected to Spizzenergi’s frontman Spizz, that means the very real boon of a slew of match reports to ruminate over as you while away the time at work and count down the days to the Christmas holiday.

‘Tis the season of giving!

There’s been four games since the last blog, three of which took place while our spiritual football shaman, Simon Gas, holidays in other people’s misery. He’s due back on Friday. 

I was not present for the first of these two matches, so props to Paul for the following report (the game on the 17^th November is lost to posterity):

24^th November 2017

(Think of this like some sort of stream of consciousness ‘beat’ style report, with scant regard for form or meter). My editor’s notes are [in square brackets]

Ten-a-side so no room to look around and pass to your mates

Blues 0 - Yellows 2. I can't remember the first goal but the second was a horrible own-goal where Danny contrived to net in goal… Perhaps the Yellows should play with a handicap since the Blues were finding it hard in the murky conditions.

It was especially hard to find Mario, who had layered up in the balmy conditions with gloves, bobble hat and stylish Italian jacket (Armani? [Possible racism there])

Mario responded to some gentle ribbing about the Italian national side and their failure to qualify for the World Cup by saying that he is supporting England and is getting a British passport. [One in the eye for the Brexiteers].

Player of the match was Simon Ink, according to Mick K, who both appeared on the Yellow side. The Oxford scholar has said in the past that some serious post-doctoral research should be done on what number of players is needed when goals are scarce due to a bit of organisation. Mick K. studied PPE and said we should take a philosophical view of the rude and sarcastic barracking from a spectator.

Tony made a welcome return [Paul’s words not mine; is this connected to Mario’s passport news?] and shored up the defence for the Blues with Joe. Simon Jarv. rolled back the years and went to a sixty pound Blondie concert [it’s true – the highlight was having a row with some young ladies who kept taking selfies]. 

I thought human happiness could have been better served with a mega round in the Skinners. Simon Gashead picked the teams and for the Blues saved a vicious shot from Mick K. Amazing since he should play with glasses since his vision is so bad. Ross, Joe's friend Nick and Liam helped Pat K push back the Blues. At the end Yev twisted his ankle and Danny took him home in his car. My route would have taken the West End and check up on a few girlz.

Ian Gooner was very effective for the Blues with young Stan. [It’s the pills he’s taking!]

So there, you have it – plenty of information there. Final score: Blues 0 Yellows 2

There was also what I think you’ll agree is a highly engaging and entertaining review of the post-match action from the Skinners. This missive was titled “The Ross campaign for head-high collapses under shock news!!”

Apparently, he [i.e. Ross] is moving to Oslo. The band has mixed views while there was a surreal moment when Goughie was asking questions in Norwegian to Ross using an app and getting replies back.

Then, Goughie and Simon Ink got trays of schnapps and vodka to celebrate. Yev then started waxing lyrical about how dangerous Arctic bears are but we think they will be 1,000 miles away so Ross will be safe.

That brings up to Friday 1^st December, when I was back in action.

This will also have to be a fairly sketchy report, but I can at least provide a roll call of players: Simon Ink, me, Ian Gooner, Tony, Peter, Ross, James (Ross’s mate), Michele, Adolpho, Mario, Mark, Steve, Paul, Liam, Joe, Bristol Paul and Ed. Given that Danny also played, despite not being present on the list of participants that Simon Gas sent across from the jungles of Burma, we ended up with two lop-sided teams but we made an early change, with Danny crossing the Rubicon and, arguably, ending up on both winning teams. 

I think the first match, if that’s we are going to call it, finished about 4-1 to whichever side Danny was on; having changed bibs the second game then finished 2-0. From memory, Ian Gooner had another great game as sort of Forest Gate Franco Baresi and Tony’s return from exile showed that he’d lost none of his considerable ability. I can remember letting in a goal from Mark, who steered one home through a thicket of players from just outside the box (well done, Mark), while I believe Adolpho, who is as good a chest player as Marouane Fellaini, unleashed a few screamers, at least one of which reached its target. 

Other events included myself blasting ver the fence, which saw me make the trudge of shame after the game to retrieve the ball, Steve careering around with customary menace and Liam scoring some goals. Oh, and I think Simon Ink opened the scoring with a trundling volley that caught the defence cold.

Onto Friday just gone, i.e. 8^th December.

Rather fewer players to choose from, but here are your two teams:

Blues: David, Danny, Ian Baggies, me, Patrick, Nick (eventually), James, Andy

Yellows: Tony, Mick, Paul, Ross, Mario, Ed, Steve

A good game this, settled by the odd goal in eleven (one of which I scored!). The teams were actually seven aside for the first twenty minutes or so, but despite having a demonstrably stronger team it took the Yellows some time to get going, chiefly as the Blues were playing well, keeping shape and putting in some excellent individual performances (I thought David had a very good game, in particular). But with talents like Mario and Tony pinging around the passes up front and Mick marshalling the rear, they began to take advantage and took something like a 3-1 lead. Mario was involved in at least one of these, memorably steering home following a cute through ball from Tony. 

At this stage Nick arrived and his quicksilver feet, allied with some strong running from James and Patrick’s ability to storm from box-to-box tipped the game in the Blues favour.

Relatively little controversy, bar the odd disputed foul, and Nick and Patrick in particular got some great goals. However, arguably the goal of the game was Danny’s; he carried the ball upfield looking to pass to either me or Nick, but with the Blue defenders backing off and backing off he eventually decided to put his head down and the ensuring shot swept up into the top corner. (My goal, since we’re here, came from a shot from Patrick that bounced off the post – I dutifully tapped in the rebound). 

The final, and winning, goal of the game was Andy’s, as an epic piece of goalhanging that saw him nudge the ball past the ‘keeper after Nick had taken aim from distance.

However, the most memorable moment of this, or possibly any other game, was the sight of Paul ‘The Guvnor’ skipping off to collect the ball from the adjacent pitch. As he went on his merry way his strides grew shorter and shorter. This was because his progress was slowed by his baby blue shorts slipping inexorably down his thighs, knees, calves and coming to rest gently around his ankles. As Mick opined at the time, the game as not yet won, and this was no time for risqué celebrations.

Final score: Blues 6 - Yellows 5

A brief update from the pub, as Paul, Ross, David and myself discussed the moribund state of the music industry and the stranglehold of BBC 6 Music on what might once have been deemed ‘alternative’ music. 

Simon returns on Friday for the 2017 Christmas spectacular, with Danny et al taking in the late night session at the Comedy Store.

Here endeth your match round-up.

Major Tinkering

Another, more timely match report for you now, following last week’s monolithic round-up. Last Friday saw us once again scrabbling for numbers owing to a combination of last minute cancellations and people being busy doing other things. As such, the line-ups were subject to scrutiny from a man called Major Tinkering. This is what he ended up with:

Yellows: Stan, Patrick, Mick, Danny, me, Michele, Yev, Ross

Blues: Peter, Joseph, Charlie, Simon Gas, ringer (Daniel?), Paul, Ian Baggies

Simon drafted in a ringer who I think was called Daniel to help bolster the numbers, but with Mick, Peter and Yev all arriving late the first few minutes were inevitably disjointed and chaotic. Nevertheless, the Yellow team – featuring all three Kavanagh men – took the lead through either Stan or Patrick, whose fraternal understanding was very much the main talking point of a somewhat disappointing game.

Mick eschewed my various exhortations to join the Blue team, which was the original plan, and instead donned a Yellow Bib and played alongside his two sons. I can’t imagine why. As the goals started to crash in for the Yellows I changed sides to attempt to balance the two teams, with Peter arriving to join the Blue team. This left with us a game in which the three aforementioned Kavanagh men – plus Danny and Michele – were pitted against the massed ranks of Morgan Stanley. Clearly, corporate finance is not what it once was and despite having a distinct aerial advantage (Joe, Peter and Charlie must have a combined height of around twenty feet), the twinkle toes of Patrick and Stan and the ceaseless activity of Michele’s feet meant that they cruised away with the game, deftly stroking the ball around the park and in Stan and Patrick’s case, using their brotherly intuition to ping thirty yard balls blindly in the safe knowledge that one of them would be on the end of it.

The goals that the Yellows did score were chiefly due to some defensive mishaps, (never more so than when I failed to deal with a high ball from Charlie which eventually fell to him after Peter’s initial shot was blocked). 

At 7-2 Peter finally made the decision to switch the teams and Danny duly jogged over to don a Blue bib and that team ‘won’ the last few minutes, forcing home the one goal after some robust work through the middle of the park. And a mention for Paul, who I am reliably informed by Michele performed a nutmeg on the stylish Hiberno-Italian out on the shadows on the touchline.

Final score: Yellows 7 - Blues 3/2 (or Blues 1 – Yellows 0), if you want to give Danny two wins in one evening.

And so to the pub, where the England v Germany game was on, not that anyone deemed it worthy of any attention. Talking points included the centenary of the Russian revolution, the eternal topic of men and women (Ross and Yev in discussion there) and not least, plans for the next few weeks, as Simon Gas is off to South East Asia after this Friday’s game until December 15^th. 

If we agree that Simon is very much the Captain Mainwaring of Friday Night Football, neither the main man nor myself as a would-be Sergeant Wilson will be around on the 24^th November - continuing with this theme, neither is Danny’s Corporal Jones, nor Steve’s Private Frazer. Let’s hope the game in two weeks’ time is not doomed, (“doomed!”). Perhaps we’ll have to leave it all to Major Tinkering…

I’m off to see Blondie on Friday, so see you all on the first December. At ease!