Match report

Last Friday’s game saw us with just seven players aside, including the roving Merv, leading Simon Gas to recruit two ringers from one of the other games that concluded at seven ‘o’ clock. This resulted in the following two teams:

Yellow: Ian Baggies, Bert (welcome back!), Merv, Simon Ink, Tony, Joe and Alan

Blues: me, Simon Gas, Kanat, Bristol Paul, Mick, Ramone and Johnny

The two extras were a chap called Dean, who has ploughed a furrow with us before, and a young fella whose name I didn’t catch. When Merv withdrew with a hamstring injury after 15 minutes or so he was replaced with a young lad who was all of around five foot and at this point the teams were arguably unbalanced, although it is always a suspicion of mine that some of the young ringers that join us on occasions like this are playing somewhat within themselves.

Onto the goals, then. Mick capped what was unquestionably a man of the match performance with four goals, (albeit one of them was possibly an own goal from Ian Baggies, who also had the misfortune to put through his own net to start the scoring). The pick of Mick’s super-plus hat-trick was a tight angle finish from wide on the right that caught out both the keeper and the last defender and a lovely lofted pass into the top right hand corer that was reminiscent of an Andrea Pirlo or Andres Iniesta. Ole! 

But the Blues didn’t have it all their own way and the Yellows managed three goals (?) with both Tony and Joe making their mark, the former pouncing on some loose work in midfield to drive unerringly into the bottom corner. Ultimately, the calibre of the Blues’ random selection (Dean) was, in tandem with Ramone’s ceaseless running and ball-recycling, too much for the Yellows who gamely endeavoured to try and make a game of it. Simon Gas switched with the diminutive winger for the final 15 minutes or so, but it made no difference whatsoever. 

Final score: Blues 6 Yellows 3

No pub for me this week as I had a child’s birthday party to prepare for; I’m off for a couple of weeks, so see you all on 21^st June.  

Hay fever

In keeping with this blog's occasional literary thread, I am reliably informed that last Friday's game was marred, once again, by an attack of Hay Fever. As David suggests, with recent hacking and sniffling, we could have enough potential Judith Bliss's for a casting call.

Judging by Andy's late night message there was clearly some controversy to proceedings, but I'd like to show readers a happier note to get us over the middle of the week.
 
Congratulations to Aston Villa, who rejoin the Premier League after a three year hiatus. As you can see, it was a real red letter day for some; two young lads here (Patrick and Stanley) were joined in a local pub by both their Dad and their Nan, who had lost her glasses in all the commotion. Note the pink rinse - high jinks indeed. Let's hope they got her home in time for Emmerdale.

Stick that in your blog

Last Friday’s game was a nine aside affair (for some of the time, at least), with the following two teams:

Blues: Tony, me, Joe, Charlie, Yev (eventually), Bristol Paul, Johannes, Simon Gas, Kanat

Yellows: Danny, Geoff, Steve, Mick, Mario, Parminder, Alan, Merv, Pete

Seeing as the Yellows had a man advantage for the lion’s share of proceedings – Yev was about twenty-five minutes late, while Tony departed with around twenty-five minutes remaining (more of which anon) – the Blues did well to be as competitive as they were. 

The game all turned with a finely taken goal from someone Simon refers to as ‘Merv football talent’: high praise indeed. The aforementioned ringer stormed down the left in swashbuckling style before spotting Tony violently hawking pollen spores into the back of the net and smashed the ball with the outside of his foot whereupon it pinged into the bottom far corner. A great finish, but I think it’s fair to say that Tony found the whole thing somewhat unsporting, presumably as he thought that the Yellows should have stopped playing, and promptly left the field in a cloud of tree pollen and four letter epithets for his opponents. 

Thereafter the Blues were once more a man deficient, as they had been for the time it took Yev to arrive and get changed in the goals. For the record, I took Tony’s place in nets, sporting one orange glove on my left hand like a very shabby Michael Jackson impersonator. 

As for the other goals, Steve capped a characteristically robust performance with a decent finish that culminated a fine Yellows move down the left. The Blues were on the scoresheet twice, much to Mick’s chagrin (he spent the majority of the game being extremely voluble to his teammates) – I believe that Johannes, the stand out player on the pitch, got one of them.

Final score: Yellows 3 – Blues 2

Clearly, this is the first blog for some time. I am not going to apologise out of deference to you and your intelligence, dear reader, but I have thought of a way of ensuring more regular reports: in short, a reporter’s notebook to scribble down the goal scorers and result, as well as any notable incidents. Armed with the salient points from each match, I should have more ammunition to fuel my whimsy when time allows to get down a summary of the action. 

So watch this space.

Generally, there have been some decent games of late, with the game on the 10^th May finishing six apiece (Mick’s suggested title being ‘Six of one, half a dozen of another’). I think it’s fair to say that Tony hasn’t been alone in suffering from the effects of the moulting plane trees in Coram Fields; I was sure that we’d need to administer the Last Rites to Ian Baggies the other week, as he seemed in danger of suffering a prolapsed lung such was the force of his coughing. 

We have acquired a couple of new players to help bolster the numbers: a chap called Carlo, who Mario met in the gym, and a young man called Ramone (that’s his first name, not Joey or Dee-Dee).

Lastly, it behoves me to report a rare sighting of the lesser spotted Spizz in April. Simon Gas and I were leaving the Skinners at the relatively early time of 9.30 pm on an unusually quiet evening in the pub where just a handful of us had repaired for some post-football refreshment. As we pottered down toward the Euston Road a wraith-like figure emerged out of the misty gloom clad in a black PVC and wielding a clutch of flyers. Yes, the great man is back in action on June 22^nd at Camden’s Dublin Castle – I’ve upload the flyer as proof. And with punk icon Jordan, no less.

See you down the front. 

A Shropshire Lad

Good day, one and all. It’s been a few weeks since the last blog, so I am trying to write something of a round-up today to bring us all up to speed on recent comings and goings at Coram Fields. In terms of goings, our esteemed Dear Leader has been whooping it up in South Africa, and more recently Oman, and leaving his namesake in charge of keys, bib and balls allocation, money collection, (in addition to team selection and match reports). I can see why Simon is semi-retired. 

In terms of comings, last Friday saw the guest appearance of Mr Sam Dargan, who must have a diabolical portrait in the attic somewhere as the last four years have seemingly done nothing to alter his appearance despite the combined travails of fatherhood and his banishment to the frigid wastes of Shrewsbury. Sam tipped up in the changing rooms with the knowing grin of a former cast member of EastEnders returned to wreak havoc in the Queen Vic. (‘Alright, Ma?’)

Other recent guests included two delightful young ladies from the London School of Economics’ football team who helped swell the ranks on Friday 1^st March when we were seriously depleted. Yev, perhaps inevitably, was the man to do the PR to get the two female players on board, although they were joined by their coach, a chap called Tony (I think). He was quite possibly the worst player we’ve ever had at Coram Fields; a lack of ability is one thing, but the man could barely be bothered to move. Lord knows what he’s coaching the ladies’ LSE team, but let’s hope his presence there has been approved by the local safeguarding agency.

I made some field notes on the game from Friday 22^nd February, so let’s start there.

Yellows: Andy, Kanat, me, Ed, Ian Gooner, Tony, Joe and Mario

Blues: Mick, Danny, David, Alan, Nick, Johannes (aka ‘Jay Jay’) and Carlo

Here are said notes:

Mario scored at least twice; a couple of speculative efforts which foxed David in goals; Johannes / JJ / Jay-Jay* was in amongst it and scored for the Blues, one a first time effort that swept in from just outside the area.

Ed was man of the match with a hat-trick, most of which he created himself by either latching on to other people’s knock-ons, or else ploughing his own furrow. Joe, moved to label Ed “the white Defoe” for his impressive goal scoring (an extraordinary image to conjure, I’m sure you’ll agree), also capped a fine performance with a Pogbaesque goal having gone box to box and picked up a pass to round the keeper.

 Pub chat: Alan, Mick, David and me talked beer, children and Brexit.

 *This gentleman is German, I believe, rather than Nigerian, so I am unsure of the correct spelling.

 No record kept of the score, sadly.

Onto the 1^st March, the game which was augmented by the LSE undergraduates. I believe these were the two teams:

Yellows: Steve, Tony, Ian Gooner, me, Kanat, Ed, Yev and young English LSE female footballer (name of Katie, if memory serves)

Tony: Bristol Paul, Danny, Andy, Geoff, Simon Ink, Mario, LSE Coach ‘Tony’, young French LSE female footballer (name incomprehensible to cloddy Anglo-Saxon ears)

An absolute shellacking this one, with the Yellows triumphing by seven or eight goals to nil. The two LSE undergraduates were both very fleet of foot and well-versed in the arts of dribbling and close control, but I’d say the English girl Katie was marginally more effective and she scored the winning goal from the penalty spot after Andy had handled. Her French counterpart was probably let down by the fact she was playing alongside her coach, who was as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike, and her Gallic chin dropped just a little by the end. Oh, and I scored (!), as stuffy a goal as you’re likely to see, with me following in on Geoff in goal and scuffing home a rebound from all of about two foot. And I think it was this game that saw Kanat score an absolute worldy, (as the pundits say), finding the top corner from about 25 yards out wide on the left. 

Paul Gennaro joined us in the pub after watching on the from sidelines (and heckling), and capped a memorable night by generously buying a round of Laphroaigs.

I missed the following game on Friday 8^th March, but am reliably informed that Alan ruined the entire evening  by scoring a goal in the dying minutes to deny everyone the satisfaction of participating in a 0-0.

And onto the week that (just) was, when your two teams were as follows:

Yellows: Shez, Sam, Nick, Patrick Chen, Danny, Charlie, Mario and Geoff

Blues: me, Kanat, Joe, Tony, Richard, Mick, Alan, young lad with Spanish name  

Once again we were sniffing around for players, and a local ringer with a vaguely Iberian name (starting with a ‘J’, I think) helped replace James and Yev, who were knee-knacked and hen-pecked respectively. 

Final score: Yellows 3 Blues 4

Always a bit difficult to predict the impact of a young ringer, but the boy played well and easily picked his way through the Blue defence on countless occasions, although for maximum effectiveness he would have passed sooner and more often.

As for the goals, I’ll go backwards: Mario scored a great winning goal from the edge of the area after some good work from Nick and Charlie. Earlier the Blues had come back from 3-1 down to equalise through a goal from a corner that was nodded in by Alan (?) and a close-range finish from Joe (?). The third Blue goal came from Nick when I was in goal; earlier I had equalised the Yellow opener by letting the ball hit my body from a corner, from whence it dribbled apologetically over the line. 

Given the difficult circumstances, a decent game.

Despite the return of the prodigal Dargan a relatively modest turn out at the Skinners this week, although me, Geoff, Mick and Sam reminisced and dissected topics as diverse as child abuse in the Catholic church, Brexit and life in Shropshire. You know it’s been a good evening when AE Housman gets five minutes of airtime.

I must tell the readers about the most extraordinary turn of events when ordering a round of drinks that I can recall in 30 years of carousing. I ordered a pint for myself and a Guinness for Sam, but before I could add another stout to the order (for Mick) the barman went AWOL midround. Given I was the only person at the bar and there were at least three staff on duty the young barmaid looked at me quizzically and we eventually concluded that the half-poured Guinness was mine, despite the fact the lad serving me was under the impression it belonged to a table of drinkers sat about 15 feet away. Eventually the bar manager with the hipster moustache and the Northern Irish accent took over, completed the round and apologised while his colleagues were in hysterics. I’ll be having words with Craig on Friday…

See you all at the end of the week when Simon Gas returns to Take Care of Business.