'Anonymous' comments (Testwood FC 24/9/08)

Thanks again to a disappointed Anonymous for this report:

"Testwood unusally showed a more discipled side to their game without their rebust fouling captain who apprantly had cried off the game when he learned that dj was coming out of retirement to settle a few scores that had been left over from the previous match some 5 weeks ago.
Back to tonights match,Leo pulled a leg muscle and had to revert to the goalkeepers slot but never the less the game was even and at one the mollies took the lead in the second half. eventually the mollies lost the game as they refused to use their substitute in the second half.Matt looked tired during the last ten minutes but steadfastly refused to come off dispite being short of breath doubled up on more than one occasion. Testwood who were concerned with winning the game subbed throughout the second half frequently and it was no surprise that the mollies lost the game by poor management decisions a bit like the McClaren Hamiliton fiasto.
Never the less Matt lasted to the end and teamwork was again the casulaty.The golden rule don't go forward unless you can run back to defend was abandoned to allow testwood to steal the game. Which this reporter feels was ours to win, a sad day for the Mollies."

vs. Testwood FC 24/09/08 20:30 (7:6)

LOST 12-9
Matt, Leo, Alan4, Mike, Gareth5, Don

A game of three halves. Match report to follow

What the goals website said.......

Now they're just making stuff up.

vs. Athletico Becks 10/09/08 19:00 (7:4) and Boro Boys 17/09/08 19:45 (7:5)

vs Athletico Becks
WON 11-6
Matt, Leo, Steve1, Alan2, Mike3, Gareth5

vs Some Cowards Who Didn't Turn Up
WON 10-0 by default
Matt, Leo, Steve, Alan, Mike, Gareth

I had hoped to write this report as a double-header as the same Molly line-up locked horns with two sets of opposition. Alas, this wasn’t the case, and so to spare myself the agony of draining out the stagnant memories of games gone by, I present the following out of date and abridged reports.

Vs Athletico Becks

We’re almost there. He just has to prove his fitness. Just has to show good during his trial. Secure that loan move to Birmingham. And Nigel Quashie will fall from the neck of West Ham like a dead albatross. Never mind the gaining of manager Zola, or the loss of sponsor XL, this is the best news all fortnight.

The world didn’t end on Wednesday in Geneva. The world didn’t end on Wednesday in Zagreb. Which is just as well, given that the Mollys are finally showing signs of footballing recovery. It is indeed a good life-affirming night when we could give away so many opportunities and still win against Athletico Becks by a solid margin.

The return of Mike to the attack was a major boost, and provided the right wing width, to Alan’s left. Steve would provide the central thrust, leaving Leo to guard the defence, whilst Gareth went where the action was. It was a dynamic, yet structured, flexible, yet disciplined formation, which played to individual strengths.

Matt had spent the pre-match build-up padding up his fingers with sofa stuffing and sellotape, but the only thing he really needed to fear were penalty shots getting drilled at him at regular intervals during the match.

With tactics correct to begin with, and playing from the end closest to the door, so that Gareth avoided having to run through the ref against the wall, Becks provided such an insignificant challenge to us, that we felt it necessary to shoot ourselves in the foot, shoot ourselves through the head, and burn down our country mansion.

With their primary striker firmly in Leo’s back pocket with his loose change and ipod, and the Molly wingers displaying such boundless displays of energised running, the opposition found us impossible to contain, and impervious to damage. With Steve slicing through the opposition with a trademark through ball to set up Alan, and Gareth mimicking Robinho-like power dribbles across the outfield, this game was simply about four penalties.

The first went in our favour, as their keeper handled the ball sliding beyond the line, and was routinely dispatched by Gareth. The next three were cheap value own brand giveaways that were avoidable but forgivable, when spooned onto a plate next to our attacking truffles.

Alan gave away the first, when completely in the clear and under no pressure whatsoever he impatiently taps the ball back to Matt whilst still in the area, in such blatant language that even the Polish ref could understand. The second giveaway was by Steve, in a manoeuvre that is now being referred to as “the pass back to Leo”, as a throw out to Steve from Matt, didn’t get the forward thrust needed, headed back towards our goal, dissecting where Leo was, and apparently needed to be, for a second penalty to be conceded, but thankfully not the goal itself, as Matt showed great Grobbelars to force the shot onto the bar. The third penalty came from Alan, from the other wing in another ‘pass back to Leo’, who could’ve sworn he was in the same place he’d been for 90% of the match – on the top of the D – and the resulting shot went to Matt’s right.

Even with these minor indiscretions, the Mollys were comfortable winners, and that’s about it.

Inter-Molly Match

So with the opposition failing to turn up for tonight’s match, we didn’t concede any penalties, won by 10-0, and dusted off the bi-annual Inter-Mollys trophy. The line-up was The Young Braves (Matt, Leo and Gareth, with rush keeper) vs The Old Codgers (Don, Steve, Mike, Alan). What did we learn from this heated, excessively sweaty no holds barred friendly? What fears did we experience that our opposition get to fear every week?

-Leo can hit a football into the air and over the fencing at the same angle as NASA rockets launch
-Don can walk around the outside of Goals to retrieve said shot with the same speed of a hike along the Great Wall
-Having Mike run at you is like a Redwood coming crashing down on you
-Matt’s fitness has improved, his shot accuracy has not
-Don looked swoonsome in his silky wife-beater shirt
-Steve really does clip opposition’s heels, and then protests his innocence (my heel will testify if required)
-The Old Codgers aren’t as gung-ho ruthless in their shooting as the Young Braves
-Don was clearly using the match as a warm-up practise for possible revenge taking against Testwood FC the following week
-Leo scored a smarmy back-heel when surrounded by Last of The Summer Wine

The shouts of ‘next goal wins’ were called, as the next teams waited to come onto the pitch, and it elicited flashbacks of desperately trying to pot the black, as the 50 pence pieces piled up on the table, but finally Mike slashed a stinging shout into the bottom left to win the cup for the oldies in what had been a very even match, but a worthwhile use in short succinct passing, and an exercise in stamina running.

Molly Xmas Do

The poll results so far for choice of The Molly Maguires Christmas Do are as follows:

Matt: Pre-‘going away to Florida for Xmas’ Holiday Curry
Steve: Karaoke
Dean: Curry for free, and after-dinner speech
Alan: Curry with chips
Robbie: All You Can Eat Curry
Gareth: An evening with his heroes

Get your votes in, or don’t - I’ll have a drink on you.

Croatia vs. England 10/9/08

For all those who missed the match on Setanta, here are the full highlights, at no cost to you, blog reader, because I value your worthless custom.

3rd min: I get back from (my brilliant) defensive duties for the Molly Maguires, and sit down in front of the TV, simmering in my own sweat
6th min: "He can't cross!" shouts my dad, as Theo stubs the ball out in the penalty area
9th min: England produce a shit corner
12th min: James drops the ball from a corner, and continues to look like an over-rated dick
15th min: Some Croat dribbles through the England defence and almost gets lucky
21st min: "England are starting to tire," says Craig Burley. "Why can't Setanta get some decent commentators?" says my dad
22nd min: "Clear penalty," says Burley, as Heskey falls over, tripped by a blade of grass
25th min: GOAL! Theo scores, getting the break from a ricocheted clearance. My living room goes nuts
28th min: James gets away with a crap punch, as the follow up shot is blocked by Wes Brown. Robert Green needs to get a start
32nd min: I take another sip from my can of Carlsberg
38th min: Theo gets flattened onto his arse, and is driven off the pitch on a golf cart. Obviously he comes back on..
43rd min: Heskey heads the ball on to no-one. Come back Crouch, all is forgiven
45th min: Croatia blaze a close-range free-kick over

Half-time: Venables, Allardyce and McManananaman talk shit for 15 minutes - they're probably talking shit whilst we're watching the adverts

49th min: Lampard has a good low free-kick saved
51st min: Joe Cole gets clattered with an elbow in a jump for the ball. He pats his head. There's blood on his hands. He walks three steps, and then melodramatically falls down. Golf cart comes on
52nd min: Croatia's captain Kovac is sent off for deliberately leading with elbow
53rd min: Cole is subbed for some Spurs twat
58th min: GOAL! Theo scores, as Rooney plays him in, and he strikes it across the keeper into the side of the goal. "Yay!" we all shout
62nd min: GOAL! Jenas does in ten seconds what Downing has failed to do with 20 caps, and gets past the last defender, to the byline, pulling back a cross for Rooney to side-foot home
74th min: Not much happening. I've booted up my computer to avoid boredom
75th min: Lamps scores a goal but it's disallowed because a Croat slips over - as there's a big black man standing near him, the ref must've thought an assault had taken place
77th min: GOAL! Terry loses his marker as a Croat scrapes his high studs down Terry's face, and play carries on. Ferdinand can't cope with two attackers coming at him, and some foreigner slots home through James
80th min: Capello stands in front of an advertising board for some Croat website, and it makes him look like he's got angel wings growing from his back
81st min: GOAL! Rooney plays Walcott in again who comes across the area before placing his shot beyond the keeper. Everyone watching is as suitably happy as the situation demands
83rd min: James runs out of his area and clatters into a Croatia striker. This lame horse needs to be shot
87th min: West Ham star defender Matthew Upson replaces Ugly Terry
88th min: Shots of Croatia supporters bouncing up and down in joyous delight that even in defeat, they don't have to support our ruddy national side
90th min: Joe Cole sits on the bench in his England blazer. You can see his gash

Full-time: West Ham United dodge a Bilic-shaped bullet. I have a shower

'Anonymous' comments (Ali-Jazeera FC 3/9/08)

Thanks to Mr A'd'onymous for another superb alternate view match report:

"After a short holiday? where I have been seaching the criminal justice system in Scotland for new and exciting players I return to view the same old stuff from the mollies. Leads been frittered away by lapses of concentration and general loss of defensive attitudes when facing the dead ball situations.Thats the criticism over, remarkably you all played well and showed a promise for the future.You have learned that if you come go forward out of defence YOU must come back to defend. A lesson not to be forgot, though Robbie was left bae arsed at the back a few times and had little answer for the black Ronaldo who was very good.I hate to pick on players worthy of mention (he he).Robbie looked rusty after his long lay off on childcare duties sessions in the gym and sauna may increase his fitness and sex life.Alan made good runs forward and his challenges were worthy of DJ at his best. Steve scored possible the best goal of the match and Leo made good runs forward even if he was over protecting his sore toe in the tackles he made. Gareth showed glimpses of his former self, but it would seem he has sacrificed his fitness for work and sex.Matt was his normal self fumbling with the ball but still making the brave saves we have come to accept as normal.Adam was his steadfast in defence what he lacks in footballing skills is made up by his blocking movements. I was glad to see our fan base has increased by 100% which bodes well for our future dealing in the transfer markets.A mention for Nathan a sad loss giving up cigs. has proved more difficult than even I could have predicted and his injury couldn't of helped either I wish him well and looked forward to his return from the Priory match fit and healthy.Beaten 9-8 was a good result the opposition were a good team after they cleaned up their act after a few encouraging words from yours truly,sin bin him ref. he touched our Gareth And a gentle reminder at half time, your just a bairn(baby) I could eat you , when he requested I play the second half.However we did shake hands after the match."

vs. Ali-Jazeera FC 03/09/08 21:15 (7:3)

LOST 9-8
Matt, Leo1, Steve1, Alan1, Adam1, Robbie, Gareth4

Having received some fair but stinging criticism from our resident cheerleader that my last couple of reports have been somewhat negative, and a sad reflection of our performances, I am determined to put a more positive spin on things this time. To be honest, the boys have given me so much material's worth to take the mickey this week, that Minnie's going to be very sore in the morning.

The evening had started pleasantly enough. Steve regaled us with stories of how he loves hearing stories of people defecating on each other in the woods. Deviancy remained the topic, the conversation turning to the Xmas staff party and Robbie's overly keen confirmation he would be there. With a cartoon character costume theme, suggestions for characters that the Turk could come as included Toad Of Toad Hall, Obelix, a funhouse squashed mirror version of Desperate Dan, and Silas Greenback. Then the first major shock of the evening occurred, requiring double takes from those fortunate enough to see this Hailey’s Comet-like event. Matt strode into the bar wearing a blue shirt. {gasp}

Matt had LIED TO HIS FIANCEE that he wouldn't play in goal with his possibly fractured thumb and had left his house wearing his blue shirt of shame to PERPETUATE THE LIE TO HIS FIANCEE. He must have told her that he was only going to play for literally two minutes, because any longer and she would've sussed that HE WAS LYING TO HER. And had she any idea of what and where this blog is in the interweb cyber-space, she would know that MATT LIED TO HIS FIANCEE.

The gaffer without his grey keeper's shirt on is like a haggis without skin, but his wearing of a blue football top was the most surreal sight you ever did see. Except that there were more shirt-related shocks to come.

Whilst Matt got down to his skimpies in the bar to slip on his regulation goalkeeping attire, I repressed those mouth-watering images (the way your mouth waters just before you throw up), to recall similar soothing scenes of schoolgirls changing into cool clothes in the washrooms of Degrassi Junior High. Matt had also come prepared with a performance enhancing super gel for his little fat digit. Forgoing filling his gloves with ACME nuts and bolts, the gaffer lubed up and padded out his right thumb in the hope of making it through at least the first half without flinching. Like dipping a pork sausage into lard.

It was confirmed by Steve and Alan, that Nathan's injury last week was worse than first feared. A pitch side amputation of his left foot by Goals' expert first aid team, resulted in Nathan driving back to Newbury entirely in first gear, because he couldn't operate the clutch. Nathan's foot has started it's own Myspace page, and already has an average 9.7 rating on Hot Or Not?

With Big Mike and Little Mike taking drugs, having it large, and listening to shitcore music in Ibiza, it was a pleasant surprise to actually have a seven-man squad available, with both Adam and Robbie making welcome returns to the team. Gareth had also returned from his weak knee week away, again with his touchline totty in tow, thus dispelling those pervading Yoko rumours. It already puts her in the enviable position of going on to win the most caps for a Mollyette, overtaking Steve’s wife, and Don’s ex-wife/ex-fiancée/current wife (so many, they all blur into one).

Just as pleasant a comeback was the return of our mascot Don. When opposing teams speak of The Molly Maguires, they whisper in hushed reverent fear of the 'old Geordie man who tells us off'. His active encouragement from the sidelines has been sorely missed; his verbal sparring still hirarious; and his positive vibes radiated through the team. Gushing with a soppy tale of his new joint personalised number plate that proclaims CJ X DJ = L0V, you couldn't help but be soaked in that Love Actually feeling.

It was Adam who provided the further shirt shenanigans, late again (not a shock) wearing a red shirt (major shock), and this threw up all sorts of interesting slanderous scenarios. Perhaps, he'd been caught short again with his cross-dressing antics at his girlfriend’s, and had left his pale blue/grey t-shirt aboard the family yacht. Perhaps, he's been moonlighting in another sport that requires lumbering around and hitting things (probably Real Tennis). Perhaps, three weeks on from his last appearance, he'd forgotten what colour we play in. Or, perhaps, he was pretending to be our ringer.

Now if you type in Ali Jazeera and Molly Maguires into Google - top fucking entry! That’s right, this match report is the first entry on the behemoth that is Google. I’ve finally made it. Of course, type in Molly Maguires on its own, and you can’t find this blog under the crap of Irish pubs and coal miners. Anyway Jazeera were our opposition; fresh unknown opponents, with that rarely seen commodity in their midst – an ethnic minority.

Hopes were reasonably high that we’d actually put in at least a half-decent performance, boosted by Gareth’s refreshed return to vertical calorie-burning and a back-line born and bred to defend. Whether we could actually win would be down to how well the rest of the team supported Gareth in attack, and whether Matt could cope with the hard fingering of balls.

So what actually happened during the match? (This is where the report gets dull). Well for a start, Alan turned in one of his finer performances, gee’ed (or jeered) on by Leo, who demanded less procrastinating on the ball, and more two-touch bang-whallop action. And it worked. Less was Alan running into the corners without a viable outlet surrounded by defenders, then he was sharply drawing in his marker and releasing the ball quicker to a team-mate, or goal-wards, allowing time to re-group as the pressure remained on the opposition.

Steve was getting away with as many shimmies as he could, linking up extremely well in the midfield, and forming a useful if unorthodox partnership with Gareth, which produced a sublime goal for Steve’s banana-shaped right foot. His old geezer status was also giving us some sort of tactical edge, a dampening effect on the fouls he was committing, when he was deliberately kicking out at the opposing strikers, or blatantly touching the ball as it bounced above and in the keeper’s area.

Leo was doing a better job of staying in contact with the rest of the team, with virtually no worthless goal-hanging, instead banging home a long range effort from Gareth’s kick-off that the cheeky ref labelled an ‘overhit pass’. He revelled in the freedom of being a defensive midfield, with the full knowledge that Adam and Robbie were always in close proximity. And even those two dumplings managed to get forward to shoot, Adam sweetly side-footing home our last goal of the game from a wall-rebound, Robbie less successfully putting his one effort wide.

Gareth enjoyed his now customary spat with an opposing player, as the shoving and barging on the left wing developed into over-dramatics, and Don’s protests that the Jazeera aggressor should be ejected from the field of play were met with a typical ‘come onto the pitch’ response. “I cud have youse,” retorted the Geordie hard-man, with typical unfazement.

The intent of our passing was crisp, but the outcome wasn’t always accurate, frequently unforced errors being not so much intercepted, as simply received. And whilst Matt’s throwing was again looking less than smart without Nathan’s deft touch to receive, his shot-blocking was this week high priority and satisfactorily delivered. It may have been just my sight, but Matt seemed to be catching or batting away balls right on the edge of his D more so than ever, and his handling showed no signs of his thumb being as worthless as one stuck up his arse.

Half-time had finished 6-4, with a badly timed collapse toward the end, allowing the team with a terrorism propaganda name (the added ‘i’ is for ignorant) to start the second half ahead. It was obvious what we needed to do, as Gareth dished out the tactical advice, and that was to contain and control he who the Molly mascot refers to as the black Ronaldo (that’s the black olive-skinned Ronaldo, as opposed to the black black Ronaldo).

For whilst the rest of the opposition could produce some serious heavy duty shooting, their main frontman, through whom nearly every attack went, was causing us no end of grief. The little blitter was like a gnat in your spacesuit, sand in your v-j. He had good close control, and had the pace to shift himself and the ball into space, bouncing around like a demented Yoda, frequently getting into one-on-ones against Matt, with a re-count needed as to whom came out on top.

That’s not to say he didn’t have weaknesses that will need to be exploited to the full next time. The bugger couldn’t stay on his feet. His centre of gravity was shifting the earth closer to the sun, and he either fell over because his little legs couldn’t keep up with his torso, or admittedly we were hustling him over. Not difficult, but like hacking down Gary Coleman, with a baseball bat to the ankles. Winning those direct free-kicks against us on the outskirts of our D, his presence constantly put us in danger, with even Leo ending up on his ass, trying to block him, and Robbie ending up on what must have felt like several backsides as well.

The first trick is to get to the second ball – one defender to square up to him, and the second to steal away the shift or pass which he will inevitably make. He’s a conventional front-man – he doesn’t run forty yards straight at you, he picks it up from a standing start, and tries to pass through you, or crab walk into an angle. The second trick is to keep the ball - once he loses it, he’s first to try to win it back, and often did. Like the Molly’s star player, he too was called Leo. Which actually makes it two Leo’s that Leo has now played against. What a great name. Leo.

Whilst it felt like much worse, we actually did them over in the second half to reduce the final deficit to just 9-8, with Gareth again producing an all round goal-scoring display of blurry swerve, and Alan bunting home a well-deserved goal of his own.

What was perhaps the most surprising thing about this match was that it was actually quite enjoyable to play. There was a strong team ethic, we never felt out of the contest, it wasn’t a nasty moany encounter (for the most part), and Don provided more laughs than the Katy Brand show.

So with Matt surviving a full match without major damage to his thumb*, expertly convincing his team-mates that he made all his saves with his left hand, could he survive the interrogation when he got home? I don't have any confirmed sightings yet, that prior to leaving, Matt urinated on his blue shirt to give it that authentic "I've been running for forty minutes" smell, before slipping it back on. And whether Steve was behind a tree, watching.

* The sports bar collaboration with Leo’s toe and Nathan’s foot will just have to wait.