B GRADE MATCH REPORT

West Pymble (Over35) 4 - 0 Lane Cove West (Over 35)

Match Report

A disappointing end to the season, with some odd features. In none of the last five games we played did both teams score, and we 
scored in only one of them – now almost a month back. Losing our last two games 5-0 and 4-0 didn’t seem to be what was in store 
when we played so well (as I hear & read) in the two previous games – for a 3-0 win & a hard-fought 0-0 draw. But it’s a funny 
game [I just made that up: it’s good, isn’t it?] and what you do one week bears no relationship to the next: nothing to do with 
the last 2 games being the only ones I played more than 15 minutes of, I’m sure!

I blame it all today on the break in tradition. At the Glade, we’ve always sat on the benches near the toilet (more important as 
one gets older, as someone pointed out). But no, this wasn’t good enough any more: too dusty; might be in the shade by the end; 
we should sit on the sideline, they said. And look what happens? We get stuffed!

And again, for at least the 3rd time this year, it was conceding 2 silly goals in the first few minutes that got us into trouble. 
Once (vs Lindfield A) we recovered. The other two times - last week and this - we could not. 

The sorry tale this week began with a high ball of the sort that Dave W has gobbled up all year. But somehow this time (& it 
wasn’t the sun) it not only slipped away, but it slipped backwards, and in: 0-1.

Not long after, Martin C decided to duck under, and leave for Dave, a cross he could easily have headed away. Three problems -  
Dave hadn’t called and wasn’t just behind waiting for the ball: a forward was, who had the presence of mind to accept the very 
early Christmas present with an easy header: 0-2.
 
We kept trying to play good football, but for a while just couldn’t string enough passes together. But Dave B made a welcome 
return from injury; Mark S was pursuing everything; Bill was getting stuck in; Peter was weaving his spells; man-of-the-match 
John S was busy in midfield, and we began to look a bit more dangerous. We got a few corners that caused concern, but couldn’t 
convert.

At the back Steve - our only ever-present this season - was constantly up and down the right touchline, and the Martins & Eric 
were also kept busy.  

0-2 at halftime was a bit too familiar, but we saw that these were opponents we really shouldn’t lose to, and set about the second 
half with refreshed vigour. And we seemed edge closer to a goal: a few runs from me, a few more shots on goal, their keeper felled 
by Dave B (but an entirely fair challenge) after a good through ball from John S: it all seemed promising. So it was disappointing 
when they got a third from a move I don’t entirely recall, except that this time it wasn’t what we in the trade call a stuff-up: 
0-3.

Then Martin C had to join Ernie on the benches - sorry folding chairs: the benches had been rejected – requiring the versatile Jon B 
to slot into the back 4. And very effectively, too: reminiscent of Howard’s stirring enthusiastic challenges. Guy came on to give our 
dwindling resources a boost and we kept plugging away: more corners, more neat moves in and around the area, but no reward. 

Then to add insult late in the game, an – admittedly – very slick W Pymble move was rounded off with a well-taken shot into the corner, 
and it was 0-4, and 41 goals conceded for the season: second worst only to Lindfield A.

The result left us 8th for the season: not much comfort that were 10 points above 9th, and only one from 6th (shared by our opponents 
today and Hornsby Heights: they managed to finish with the same points as each other, & exactly the same goals for & against. Their 
goals for, at 25, was only one better than ours, but they conceded 13 less).  

Thanks to Tim for bringing the beer and being linesman in the first half despite the flu that stopped him from playing. And to Tony 
for taking over (the line, that is) in the 2nd half. And to anyone else I’ve forgotten to thank or otherwise mention favourably in 
despatches this year. 


MARK BRYANT