LOST 11-7
5.Leo 2.James 3.Alan 4.Steve 7.Nathan 8.Rob 9.Gareth
Forgive me father, it’s been four games since my last confession.
In that time, the football season has ended, with Manchester United looking like foolish pub team hacks, and Newcastle United slipped out of the Premiership, with less fight than a comatose quadriplegic.
It was remise of me not to go into excruciating depth about our victory against Bartlett (now replaced/renamed by/as Waterboys). Nor was it without merit to discuss (and by that I mean, give my opinion as if fact) the causes of our defeats against Tony Smith Plumbing and the Shirleyshooters.
But, I’ll mention those games in passing, because this latest match against Solent Pirates had all the usual clichés that are now synonymous with the Molly Maguires.
It was a 9.15pm kick-off, but it was a beautifully light cool evening, perfect conditions for the team to take points from the opposition directly above us. Matt was on leave this week, abroad somewhere, which allowed an opportunity for the Molly reserve keeper, Leo, to again prove why he’s so great in goal, and why he can justify his constant baiting of the gaffer’s keeping.
With Robbie also missing from the party - beer gardens and Big Brother just too tempting at this time of year -you would’ve thought that the squad would be short of numbers, that we’d have to make do with five. Incredibly, we managed to have seven players available. Which brings me to the first topic of contention, the squad and the substitutions.
To our advantage, our squad has been blessed with the addition of two regular attendees, in the shape of Nathan v2.0 and Rob - both products of Alan’s clone factory, and the blueprint from which Skynet will produce their T-models. So for this week, and last week, we played with seven players.
Now, some of us old cheerleader Geordie blokes have advocated that a bigger match day squad, and proper substitutions will result in better fitness and more winning. Other value for money pitch-hoggers have been obstructive to such thinking. So we’ve had the opportunity to try this new system - did it work?
Last week, Don volunteered to keep together a systematic time and pairing substitution system that seemed to work pretty well, until into the second half, when some players just couldn’t cope with waiting to come off, and took it upon themselves to disrupt the plan. Of course, if you’re knackered, you should come off -perfectly the right way to do it.
The problem it then presented was individual players were leaving the field of play, and the whole pairing system collapsed. Whilst it never quite managed the unfortunate heights of Steve and Alan being our primary attackers, the times when Gareth and Nathan were on the pitch together were reduced to five minute bursts. And this was a problem.
Because, with as much unintentional disrespect to the other players on the team as I can get away with, the new Nathan can finally be the second striker that Gareth has been missing since the loss of the first Nathan. An attacking pairing to finally get their dozen goals a game, and allow the defence some relief as they occupy the opposition.
Only once has this come off, and this was in our victory against Bartlett. FLASHBACK. This win was built upon pace (note the absence of Steve and Robbie), and relentless attacking prowess. With Leo in his favoured last defender role, behind a front line of attack merchants, who nevertheless had the energy to run back to cover, we turned that team over with some scintillating pass and move. It helped of course that this was their third football game ever, and they gave away a couple of stupid penalties, ignorant of the rules. It helped that those penalties were taken in a professional, ‘best man should take it’ way. It helped we managed to score unbelievably tight angled goals through their porous keeper, and it helped that we had some formation and discipline about our system, where the object was for the team to win above any personal glory.
5.Leo 2.James 3.Alan 4.Steve 7.Nathan 8.Rob 9.Gareth
Forgive me father, it’s been four games since my last confession.
In that time, the football season has ended, with Manchester United looking like foolish pub team hacks, and Newcastle United slipped out of the Premiership, with less fight than a comatose quadriplegic.
It was remise of me not to go into excruciating depth about our victory against Bartlett (now replaced/renamed by/as Waterboys). Nor was it without merit to discuss (and by that I mean, give my opinion as if fact) the causes of our defeats against Tony Smith Plumbing and the Shirleyshooters.
But, I’ll mention those games in passing, because this latest match against Solent Pirates had all the usual clichés that are now synonymous with the Molly Maguires.
It was a 9.15pm kick-off, but it was a beautifully light cool evening, perfect conditions for the team to take points from the opposition directly above us. Matt was on leave this week, abroad somewhere, which allowed an opportunity for the Molly reserve keeper, Leo, to again prove why he’s so great in goal, and why he can justify his constant baiting of the gaffer’s keeping.
With Robbie also missing from the party - beer gardens and Big Brother just too tempting at this time of year -you would’ve thought that the squad would be short of numbers, that we’d have to make do with five. Incredibly, we managed to have seven players available. Which brings me to the first topic of contention, the squad and the substitutions.
To our advantage, our squad has been blessed with the addition of two regular attendees, in the shape of Nathan v2.0 and Rob - both products of Alan’s clone factory, and the blueprint from which Skynet will produce their T-models. So for this week, and last week, we played with seven players.
Now, some of us old cheerleader Geordie blokes have advocated that a bigger match day squad, and proper substitutions will result in better fitness and more winning. Other value for money pitch-hoggers have been obstructive to such thinking. So we’ve had the opportunity to try this new system - did it work?
Last week, Don volunteered to keep together a systematic time and pairing substitution system that seemed to work pretty well, until into the second half, when some players just couldn’t cope with waiting to come off, and took it upon themselves to disrupt the plan. Of course, if you’re knackered, you should come off -perfectly the right way to do it.
The problem it then presented was individual players were leaving the field of play, and the whole pairing system collapsed. Whilst it never quite managed the unfortunate heights of Steve and Alan being our primary attackers, the times when Gareth and Nathan were on the pitch together were reduced to five minute bursts. And this was a problem.
Because, with as much unintentional disrespect to the other players on the team as I can get away with, the new Nathan can finally be the second striker that Gareth has been missing since the loss of the first Nathan. An attacking pairing to finally get their dozen goals a game, and allow the defence some relief as they occupy the opposition.
Only once has this come off, and this was in our victory against Bartlett. FLASHBACK. This win was built upon pace (note the absence of Steve and Robbie), and relentless attacking prowess. With Leo in his favoured last defender role, behind a front line of attack merchants, who nevertheless had the energy to run back to cover, we turned that team over with some scintillating pass and move. It helped of course that this was their third football game ever, and they gave away a couple of stupid penalties, ignorant of the rules. It helped that those penalties were taken in a professional, ‘best man should take it’ way. It helped we managed to score unbelievably tight angled goals through their porous keeper, and it helped that we had some formation and discipline about our system, where the object was for the team to win above any personal glory.
Such glory was a delightful bonus at the end. Don even managed to keep his told-you-so mouth shut until the car park. Self-control indeed. Yes, we enjoyed the victory, but this wasn’t a sign of things to come, more a case of what might have been.
NOW. So, what happened in this current match that managed to emulate that victory in the same way as some Britain’s Got Talent moron can emulate the sound of a saxophone? For a start the substitution system didn’t work as well this week. With Don’s forgetting to bring his Casio, we were apparently going to rely on Terry Thomas the ref (remember, the guy who actually played six-a-side with us once…?) to call the five minutes switheroos. When the opposition started to deviate from the plan, we ourselves lost track. If we can get this shit together, it will mean equal playing time, and a better distribution of energy expenditure.
But does this actual work? Leaving aside the treasurwhore’s need to get the coffers full with enough money to cover the registration fee, does the additional seventh player actually help us? Leo’s point of view, and I asked him about it, is that it actually hinders us from winning, if that‘s the whole point of the seventh man. From his own playing of the system, done right, will see him being on the pitch for ten minutes at certain points - he don’t do no ten minutes in a row. Leo is better in small bursts, like a Japanese meal, small portions, but so tasty. When he needs to come off to catch a breather, he needs to come off, because he doesn’t want to stand around sucking air up his ass whilst opposition are bearing down on him.
Back in the olden days, Gareth would rarely come off, because he was a spunky teen back then, and no one minded, because we needed the rest more than he, and he produced the goods where it mattered. Now, Gareth is expected to tow the party line like everyone else, leaving the likes of Alan and James to compensate for his absence.
Which brings me to the next topic of contention - positions. When we were short of players, the system was very clear. It didn’t necessarily work all the time, but it was Steve/Robbie at the back, Leo as right wing-back, Alan as left winger, James up front and Gareth as quarterback. Now I defy anyone to tell me, where the hell they are actually supposed to be playing. You can throw all the bullshit you like at me about being flexible and adaptable, but if you can tell me where you were supposed to be this week, then go ahead. If we’re going to float around the pitch like lost souls, then perhaps we should haunt someone in particular and do a proper man-marking job.
We overloaded the middle third of the pitch (the midfield), and seemed to overcommit into their third when we had possession of the ball, without putting enough pressure on them, to prevent pacey counter attacks. Gareth was again trying bulldoze his way through all of their outfield players from his own corner flag, but constantly came up short; Alan disappeared like a French metal tube in the sky, and Steve wanted so much time on the ball, the opposition kept kicking him to see if he’d fallen asleep standing up.
FLASHBACK. Our defeat against Tony Smith Plumbing was perhaps the most disappointing ’if only’ moment of the season so far. Again, the team had Leo flying solo at the back, supported by Alan (and by supported I mean the first to commiserate when Leo couldn’t physically cover the man with the ball, the shallow pass AND the untracked runner, and Matt got exposed to simple passing shots). But that defeat held a number of tactical whims, the first of which was Matt running (quicker than walking, so technically true) to the far end to avoid the sun in his eyes for the first half. With a real sense of menace, and verbal abuse, we kept the league leaders down to a 4-2 score line at half time, with our boys doing themselves proud against a team, whose strengths are clearly built from the back, with a proper decent keeper.
However, the loss of Nathan at half-time with a some sort of girly leg/knee injury screwed up any chance of us making them think twice about which of our playmakers they were going to mark. Rob came on to deputise, like replacing Top Cat with Deputy Dawg, but unfortunately our fight back fell flat on it’s arse. Well actually, nothing unfortunate about it, we weren’t very good after that, and although the ref probably robbed us of at least one goal, by failing to make a small vertical downward stroke in his little book after we’d scored, we lacked a cutting edge.
NOW. Which again brings us to the current match and another second half of such epic proportions. Now I’m writing the conclusion of this report several weeks after the event, but if my adamantium-bullet-in-the-head memory doesn’t deceive me, we were actually leading at half-time. Leo had delivered for the most part on his sexy-fast distribution claims, and had managed fingertips on all three shots that had bazooka-ed past him, but a slight bruising to his right thumb made him question his ability to continue. He mulled it over for a minute, but recalled his conversation with Alan in the bar beforehand, and talk that James could easily take over in goal if needed - even do a half each. With these lies ringing in my brain, I passed the gloves to James in the hope of a Susan Boyle style revelation. Worst. Decision. Ever.
James was not good in goal, and followed in the lowly gloves of some non-lamented predecessors. A performance summed up entirely by a snapshot moment where a short tussle going on in our corner, found the opposition sneak free and toe a near-post effort past James, whilst he was leaning back on the goal bar, elbows up, like he was leaning back on a pub bar, bottoms up.
5-4 up at half-time, turned into something much, much worse, and if I were Simon Cowell, I’d be ranting some more, before shooting 6-yr old singers in the face. But I’ll leave it there, except to say that James emotional response to stress needs some work. Bawling at the opposition, to your own detriment, because of some shady goings on, or subbing yourself in a sulk, because your own team-mate gives you a verbal pasting, is not conducive to good team ethics. Rather to follow the example of his fellow players when retribution is justified - Steve hacking players down, and proclaiming innocence; Gareth just running people into the walls and floors with him; Robbie patronisingly telling the opposition to calm down; or Leo, being sarky, whilst running away.
I end the report here, because no sucker is actually going to read this last bit, as I’ve taken too long to finish it. I can’t help it if writing about defeats is like scooping my hands into dog poo, and describing how it smells.
No comments:
Post a Comment