Won 8-7
Matt, Leo, Gareth, Nathan, AnotherMatt, Ginge
Yeah, it's been a fair few weeks since Leo and I returned from Japan. We had a swell time visiting Americatown, battling robo-geishas, and drinking curry from a can. The inevitable return to Britain was as unwelcome as a racist English flag billowing from council estate balconies, under some bullshit jingoism disguised as patrotism. What exactly have we to be proud of in this country? Britain's got talent? Yeah, for cackhanded coalition governments, prostitute serial killers, and meter-running mass murderers.
Still, no-one will give a toss about anything else but football, till England's inevitable knockout on penalties in the second round. Bet on Lampard fluffing a third in a row.
In Mollyland, its all change again, with more setbacks than tiny Theo getting shafted on his mobile phone, whilst playing 9 holes of mini-golf. The windmill is the closest he'll get to propellers. Our personnel decimated in a flurry of activity that saw bionic Steve finally dip below the threshold of sustainability - hip, thigh, knee, ankle, arm all jipped to the point of almost no return. Alan suffered further twinges of his ankles or ribs or something, that saw a brief cameo comeback before mistress football was finally given the boot by his good lady wife. Alan still had time to upset Jason by wildly suggesting that the boy wonder should use his phenom shooting skills to smash goalwards, rather than charitably fudging a return pass to a less than mobile teammate. With Jason subsequently nowhere to return, and Robbie Shirkington doing what it says on the tum, the squad lost four players in a big swoop. Add in Richard's need for business time on a Thursday evening, and the team has had to draft in at least three ringers, of which one, AnotherMatt has taken up permanent residence.
Two weeks into the new season, and some semblance of order is being restored to what has otherwise a chaotic few months.
Matt's exploration of alternative venues for the sake of saving some coinage failed to materialise anything noteworthy with JD Fives, Pitch Invasion and their ilk, all of a monetary muchness or inconveniently dayed. So we were stuck with playing in the same overly aggressive league, reffed by incompetent cowards. It was no surprise to find us on the end of a slightly unjustified defeat last week against Carson FC (formerly Celtenham FC - seriously who gives a damn about your name change?) with Terry Thomas bottling the important call to reduce then to 4, after Nathan got some slap and tickle from their small man syndromed small man.
Our poor marking, lack of cover backing, and some really poor choices to run straight into a tackle found us trying to catch up against a team, who possessed the odd player or three who could grip the ball with their toes, and drive beyond our defence. Matt's useless non-diving didn't assist either. At least with the sun in full bloom, we can expect more of Don of old, to come out and wind up the opposition, berate the ref, and renew some much missed catchphrases.
This week Nathan managed not to incite anyone to flail their arms at him in wild gesticulation for a forcible studs-up backside-in challenge. Gareth impressed the ref enough with some sterling ball work to put Aaron Lennon to shame, winning the MOM award. Leo continues to grab his one obligatory goal a game, from hanging off the D positions, and AnotherMatt manages only to score in the opposition net for a welcome change. Throw in another ringer, Ginge - a bulky, shaven Butterbean lookalike - a minority of brickhouse mass not seen since the inaugral days of Mike, and the team put in a show of devastating finishing, hapless shennanigans, and then steely resolve, to pip Stratten FC by 8 goals to 7.
Stratten FC are the current benchmark for our team. They are poorer in every department to us - comfort on ball, power of shots, incisiveness of passing, yet we've contrived in the past to run through the entire spectrum of draws, defeats and wins, depending on whether it was James' time of the month, or Matt's being blinded by the sun/floodlights/eyelids closed, failing to extract the ball away from his far posts.
Today we started with a useful verve, finishing the first half 6-2 to the good. A flobby penalty was dispatched by Nathan with his usual precision, only following the obligatory discussion with the ref about whether he was too far away to strike the ball with one step, and then putting his right foot in, his right foot out, as he teased the keeper before slotting home.
At the back, AnotherMatt was seemingly holding the fort, but with an ambitious drive to plow forward all the time, that puts the team formation into a blender without the lid on, and spew our players all over the place, with Leo and Ginge often found up top, whilst Gareth and Nathan hung back quarterback.
Good interchange from the forwards, smash n' grabs down the wing, charging behemoths through the middle, some defensively sound blocking, and winning the majority of 50-50 balls, duly saw us dominate the first half.
The second half was a crock of crock, with Matt cancelling out his precision long throw assist to Leo, with another similarly precise throw direct to the oppositions' feet, who didn't return the favour, and hit it back to Matt where he couldn't reach it. Throw in (as Matt did) an innocuous rebound off his head that looped into the air, and came down at a one degree angle into the goal, and the fact that Matt only jambalanied seven goals is testament to something. Probably the oppositions' mediocre shooting.
We got lazy - not so much in effort, as in thought - Gareth's long range from kick-off shooting was atrocious, and Natahn's attempts to score from angles tighter than a dormouse's arsehole saw shots flying into the back board like the dirty offspring of Lampard, as we got pinned back, and almost mugged of our victory. Where's James' unmarking goalhanging when you need it? It was a nervous finish, losing the ball with regularity, and letting sloppy passes get punished with the simplest of exposures of Matt.
Still, can't deny the victory that kept us in the hunt for the Champions League places again this season, was sweet. Only a scintillating thrashing of Algeria by the homeland at the World Cup could top off a fine week.... Hmm, perhaps Rooney will end up in that caravan after all.
With the other important tournament of 2010 mere weeks away, Leo and Matt are slowly coming into form, whilst the likes of Alan, Robbie and Richard need to re-pick up the pace sharpish to have any hope of making the final squad. And none of them are comparable to Walcott's girlfirends' bulbous nose, and even that's done more runnng lately. Even Steve is dreaming of a late July comeback. And dreaming means you're still alive, and not dead in your sleep. Die with your boots on, they say. Did Afghanistan qualify for the World Cup?
Our poor marking, lack of cover backing, and some really poor choices to run straight into a tackle found us trying to catch up against a team, who possessed the odd player or three who could grip the ball with their toes, and drive beyond our defence. Matt's useless non-diving didn't assist either. At least with the sun in full bloom, we can expect more of Don of old, to come out and wind up the opposition, berate the ref, and renew some much missed catchphrases.
This week Nathan managed not to incite anyone to flail their arms at him in wild gesticulation for a forcible studs-up backside-in challenge. Gareth impressed the ref enough with some sterling ball work to put Aaron Lennon to shame, winning the MOM award. Leo continues to grab his one obligatory goal a game, from hanging off the D positions, and AnotherMatt manages only to score in the opposition net for a welcome change. Throw in another ringer, Ginge - a bulky, shaven Butterbean lookalike - a minority of brickhouse mass not seen since the inaugral days of Mike, and the team put in a show of devastating finishing, hapless shennanigans, and then steely resolve, to pip Stratten FC by 8 goals to 7.
Stratten FC are the current benchmark for our team. They are poorer in every department to us - comfort on ball, power of shots, incisiveness of passing, yet we've contrived in the past to run through the entire spectrum of draws, defeats and wins, depending on whether it was James' time of the month, or Matt's being blinded by the sun/floodlights/eyelids closed, failing to extract the ball away from his far posts.
Today we started with a useful verve, finishing the first half 6-2 to the good. A flobby penalty was dispatched by Nathan with his usual precision, only following the obligatory discussion with the ref about whether he was too far away to strike the ball with one step, and then putting his right foot in, his right foot out, as he teased the keeper before slotting home.
At the back, AnotherMatt was seemingly holding the fort, but with an ambitious drive to plow forward all the time, that puts the team formation into a blender without the lid on, and spew our players all over the place, with Leo and Ginge often found up top, whilst Gareth and Nathan hung back quarterback.
Good interchange from the forwards, smash n' grabs down the wing, charging behemoths through the middle, some defensively sound blocking, and winning the majority of 50-50 balls, duly saw us dominate the first half.
The second half was a crock of crock, with Matt cancelling out his precision long throw assist to Leo, with another similarly precise throw direct to the oppositions' feet, who didn't return the favour, and hit it back to Matt where he couldn't reach it. Throw in (as Matt did) an innocuous rebound off his head that looped into the air, and came down at a one degree angle into the goal, and the fact that Matt only jambalanied seven goals is testament to something. Probably the oppositions' mediocre shooting.
We got lazy - not so much in effort, as in thought - Gareth's long range from kick-off shooting was atrocious, and Natahn's attempts to score from angles tighter than a dormouse's arsehole saw shots flying into the back board like the dirty offspring of Lampard, as we got pinned back, and almost mugged of our victory. Where's James' unmarking goalhanging when you need it? It was a nervous finish, losing the ball with regularity, and letting sloppy passes get punished with the simplest of exposures of Matt.
Still, can't deny the victory that kept us in the hunt for the Champions League places again this season, was sweet. Only a scintillating thrashing of Algeria by the homeland at the World Cup could top off a fine week.... Hmm, perhaps Rooney will end up in that caravan after all.
With the other important tournament of 2010 mere weeks away, Leo and Matt are slowly coming into form, whilst the likes of Alan, Robbie and Richard need to re-pick up the pace sharpish to have any hope of making the final squad. And none of them are comparable to Walcott's girlfirends' bulbous nose, and even that's done more runnng lately. Even Steve is dreaming of a late July comeback. And dreaming means you're still alive, and not dead in your sleep. Die with your boots on, they say. Did Afghanistan qualify for the World Cup?
No comments:
Post a Comment