WON 10-0
By default
Wednesday, 29 July 2009
Monday, 27 July 2009
Gaffer's Gob 23rd July 2009 - Solent Pirates
Today we woke up to a multiplicity of papers adorning themselves with headlines such as "Mollie's Mugged" and "Maguires Victim of Smash and Grab Raid".
The big question is what led to these headlines when at half 8 last night, we took to the pitch with confidence and youthful enthusiasm granted by the youngest ever Molly line-up. This confidence transformed itself to a rare display of pace on the pitch and confident slick passing which pulled and tore the opposition defence into bad positions leaving gaps for our young up-front trio to hit shots at goal.
The ease with which we took control of the match was written large in the behaviour on an increasingly fractious opposition who pushed and clipped the heels of our players as the first half wore on. However, the trickery continued with the ball being passed between Gareth, Jason and Steve before it being fed to an unmarked James on the left who drilled the ball into the bottom right hand corner. At times, the game felt very easy with the Pirates being restricted to shots from their own half which surprisingly (given my skills are more geared towards close in blocks) left the Gaffer largely untroubled.
So then, what could conceivably lead to the aforementioned news splash?
About one minute before half time with the Mollie's sitting in a comfortable 6-2 lead, the ball came down to our right back corner and was being held up by their midfielder with Gareth attacking the ball. As can happen in these areas, it all got a bit handbaggy when their player swung an arm back and (for the sake of balanced reporting) accidentally hit Gareth in the mouth with a swinging elbow. Cue our cheerleaders shouts of anguish and Gareth and their player starting to push and swing at each other. Easily dealt with you might feel by a sin binning of the two miscreants. However, like a torpedo shot from an opposition defensive quadrant their defender runs the length of the pitch to club Wor Gareth a couple of times about the back of the head . Not Cool. This led to all players being sent off and the match being abandoned as the opposition could not play with only 3 players. A real shame in ending what had been a gilt edged Mollie's performance.
Still, no harm, we confirmed with the referee that in these situations, as we could carry on playing and were winning comfortably, the match would be awarded to us by dint of a 10-0. So then, you can imagine my annoyance after checking the website last night that the game had been awarded the other way. On ringing Goals, i was informed by the manager that it was being handled that Gareth was at fault (despite the 20 yard flying punch) and that in all likelihood, at best we could expect a score draw.
To carry on the piratical and nautical theme, i feel like someone's nicked me boat!
1:14 Solent Pirates 23/7/09 8.30pm
LOST 10-0
1.Matt 2.James 4.Steve 9.Gareth 10.Jason ???
All Gareth's fault apparently.
1.Matt 2.James 4.Steve 9.Gareth 10.Jason ???
All Gareth's fault apparently.
1:13 Shirleyshooters 16/7/09 7.45pm
LOST 8-7
1.Matt 2.James 4.Steve 5.Leo 6.Robbie 9.Gareth 10.Jason
1.Matt 2.James 4.Steve 5.Leo 6.Robbie 9.Gareth 10.Jason
Thirteen games down, and twelve defeats. Of those, the latest three present the most extreme of fortunes. Rarely have the fates been so fickle, throwing up carat chunks of tease over our lucky sneakers. It’s just as well we’re all going to die of swine flu, because this emotional rollercoaster is retarding me.
A rancid 17-2 defeat against a bunch of generic, non-descript, nameless nobodies. A startling 11-9 loss against the league leaders, with bonus Terry Thomas tantrum. A mind-f*ck 8-7 mugging against a re-animated corpse of an opponent.
It’s embarrassing when you’re a defender in a loss that sees seventeen goals get past you. It’s more embarrassing when you’re the only defender in that loss. It’s even more embarrassing when the two other defenders in the squad take the mick.
The simple truth is that there were many reasons for the defeat against Waterboys that weren’t simply down to Leo and Matt being less than adequate in defence. Part of the blame could be laid at the solar rayed feet of the Sun, beating us in the face, and sapping our already wastefully expended energy. The attack were less than adequate too - a real mish-mash of threat and bereft, that saw a normally graceful Gareth looking like an emu on ice, and the attacking triforce of Alan, Rob and James operating less like the Holy Trinity, and more like a lowly sin city, desperately trying to get their end away, without covering their back pocket.
Our attacking waves were more gush than tidal, with unintelligent support, and dangerously loose passing presenting the opposition with double-team counter-attacks that they rarely wasted. One can always blame the lack of an extra sub, but another guy standing in isolation in their half, failing to track back a ball they lost in the first place, was never going to benefit us. Self-flagellation wouldn’t be enough penance for the team for this poop-flavoured performance.
Last week’s defeat against the Plumbing lot was an altogether different bag of chocolate salty balls. Gareth was being fashionably late, whilst Robbie showed his missus who was boss, by begging her to let him play at the seven o’clock kick-off. Latest addition Jason was rewarded for stomaching some dreadful performances from the touchline, by getting to play alongside those dreadful performers. Sporting a Ronaldo shirt, but looking more like Federico Macheda, Jason was the key master, to Gareth’s gatekeeper (don’t worry, the gay analogies will get much worse).
With Steve joining Leo and Robbie in a defensive mind-meld, and James joining the attack, this was as close to perfection of personnel balance we could hope for. Three senior players to destroy and frustrate the opposition‘s attack; three young sprites to create against and occupy their defence.
Of course, let’s get the best thing about the match out of the way first, and that’s our mate Terry Thomas going ballistic at a mouthy Plumbing player. The game had a dark cutting edge about it, the opposition tackles flew in, pushing and shoving being the norm, Don winding up the opposition into mimicking his catchphrases (impossible to resist I know), their bitching about decisions, blaming the ref for our expert tackling and shooting, but in the end, they poked ref Terry Thomas once too often.
Now I don’t know what it’s like to get a mouthful of Terry. To get eaten out by Mr Thomas. But having laughed off the opposition’s whinging for most of the match, a shout for the ref to use his fucking eyes or do his fucking job, or something of a similar vernacular, saw the genial mild-mannered gentleman scoundrel blow his stack “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?!!”, before chewing and spitting out the thoroughly deserving Plumbing player, but without a sin binning, or a lamp in the face.
The sulky boys seemed to calm down after that, but their frustration was due to our stalwart defending through the centre of the pitch, and some awesome displays of touchy-feely passing between our frontmen, that shocked our opposition into something serious approaching fear of defeat.
In the end we didn’t have enough, but we subbed properly with our seven men, we had the 2-2 balance of players on the pitch at all times, and we created chances against them, that gave our back-end a chance to breathe. We looked thoroughly within our depth, and managed to play with dignity and desire.
So for this week’s defeat against Shirley, the gaffer named an unchanged side. Both he and Leo were feeling optimistic that we could build on last week’s performance to record our second win of the campaign.
Firstly however, we were treated to a torrential downpour, and an impromptu wet t-shirt contest from a ladies team on the pitch before us. The perfect synergy of women, white t-shirts, lacy bras and wetness.
Ermm. Excuse me. See you in a few weeks. I need to rub one out.
A rancid 17-2 defeat against a bunch of generic, non-descript, nameless nobodies. A startling 11-9 loss against the league leaders, with bonus Terry Thomas tantrum. A mind-f*ck 8-7 mugging against a re-animated corpse of an opponent.
It’s embarrassing when you’re a defender in a loss that sees seventeen goals get past you. It’s more embarrassing when you’re the only defender in that loss. It’s even more embarrassing when the two other defenders in the squad take the mick.
The simple truth is that there were many reasons for the defeat against Waterboys that weren’t simply down to Leo and Matt being less than adequate in defence. Part of the blame could be laid at the solar rayed feet of the Sun, beating us in the face, and sapping our already wastefully expended energy. The attack were less than adequate too - a real mish-mash of threat and bereft, that saw a normally graceful Gareth looking like an emu on ice, and the attacking triforce of Alan, Rob and James operating less like the Holy Trinity, and more like a lowly sin city, desperately trying to get their end away, without covering their back pocket.
Our attacking waves were more gush than tidal, with unintelligent support, and dangerously loose passing presenting the opposition with double-team counter-attacks that they rarely wasted. One can always blame the lack of an extra sub, but another guy standing in isolation in their half, failing to track back a ball they lost in the first place, was never going to benefit us. Self-flagellation wouldn’t be enough penance for the team for this poop-flavoured performance.
Last week’s defeat against the Plumbing lot was an altogether different bag of chocolate salty balls. Gareth was being fashionably late, whilst Robbie showed his missus who was boss, by begging her to let him play at the seven o’clock kick-off. Latest addition Jason was rewarded for stomaching some dreadful performances from the touchline, by getting to play alongside those dreadful performers. Sporting a Ronaldo shirt, but looking more like Federico Macheda, Jason was the key master, to Gareth’s gatekeeper (don’t worry, the gay analogies will get much worse).
With Steve joining Leo and Robbie in a defensive mind-meld, and James joining the attack, this was as close to perfection of personnel balance we could hope for. Three senior players to destroy and frustrate the opposition‘s attack; three young sprites to create against and occupy their defence.
Of course, let’s get the best thing about the match out of the way first, and that’s our mate Terry Thomas going ballistic at a mouthy Plumbing player. The game had a dark cutting edge about it, the opposition tackles flew in, pushing and shoving being the norm, Don winding up the opposition into mimicking his catchphrases (impossible to resist I know), their bitching about decisions, blaming the ref for our expert tackling and shooting, but in the end, they poked ref Terry Thomas once too often.
Now I don’t know what it’s like to get a mouthful of Terry. To get eaten out by Mr Thomas. But having laughed off the opposition’s whinging for most of the match, a shout for the ref to use his fucking eyes or do his fucking job, or something of a similar vernacular, saw the genial mild-mannered gentleman scoundrel blow his stack “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?!!”, before chewing and spitting out the thoroughly deserving Plumbing player, but without a sin binning, or a lamp in the face.
The sulky boys seemed to calm down after that, but their frustration was due to our stalwart defending through the centre of the pitch, and some awesome displays of touchy-feely passing between our frontmen, that shocked our opposition into something serious approaching fear of defeat.
In the end we didn’t have enough, but we subbed properly with our seven men, we had the 2-2 balance of players on the pitch at all times, and we created chances against them, that gave our back-end a chance to breathe. We looked thoroughly within our depth, and managed to play with dignity and desire.
So for this week’s defeat against Shirley, the gaffer named an unchanged side. Both he and Leo were feeling optimistic that we could build on last week’s performance to record our second win of the campaign.
Firstly however, we were treated to a torrential downpour, and an impromptu wet t-shirt contest from a ladies team on the pitch before us. The perfect synergy of women, white t-shirts, lacy bras and wetness.
Ermm. Excuse me. See you in a few weeks. I need to rub one out.
Thursday, 9 July 2009
1:12 Tony Smith Plumbing 9/7/09 7.00pm
LOST 11-9
1.Matt 2.James 4.Steve 5.Leo 6.Robbie 9.Gareth 10.Jason
1.Matt 2.James 4.Steve 5.Leo 6.Robbie 9.Gareth 10.Jason
Thursday, 2 July 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)