Prouille 1, Lane Cove West 0
We
wuz robbed! A goal for them when their referee
overruled our linesman on offside; no penalty for us when their keeper charged
into Dave B. 1-0 was right but it should have been the other way.
A
couple of weeks ago I said that Kissing Point were
bigger and stronger and more skilful than us: which made it OK that we lost,
really (if you didn’t think about for too long.). Today Prouille
were no better than us at all; which, however long you think about it, makes it
not OK that we lost.
Especially since we could easily have been 4-0 or 5-0 up at
halftime. Matt (deputising for the injured Peter, or possibly the injured Mark S
or the absent Dave L, as was Gareth) added the oomph to the mid-field that we’d
wanted. His stinging shot early on brought out a flying save from the keeper.
John’s long-range effort clattered the bar. Three times from one corner we had
headers beaten out that looked sure to go in. Their back four wanted too long
on the ball and Dave B & Neil & I were often taking advantage and
setting up moves that just needed a bit of luck to come good. Ernie was once
put through on goal (by a delicate pass from, well, me, actually) but just
couldn’t summon enough strength in the shot.
Not
that it was all one-way. Prouille also made good use
of the huge pitch at George Christie. (Who was George Christie? I had pondered
as I drove to the game. First mayor of Ku-ring-gai, it turns out, according to
a plaque on the building, which I’d never noticed in all my other visits: the plaque,
that is, not the building; you can’t miss the building: it’s big and has the
toilets in it. Unveiled (the plaque, probably, but perhaps
the toilets, too) by his widow, Gladys, in 1978. We’re playing at Bob
Campbell Oval later in the year, and I do know more about him, but you’ll have
to wait till then to find out. Are there any famous stadia named after people,
I wonder? Or do they all now have names like Pal’s Dogfood
Stadium of Fantasy?)
Taking
advantage of the wide-open spaces (and clement conditions, this being the first
game of the year when we didn’t need sunscreen) Prouille
moved the ball around dangerously. Often, it seemed, Dave W was haring out of
his area, sometimes only to hare back in again when the ball was pushed wide.
But the attacks, apart from a long-range shot or two, and the occasional corner,
never really came to much; whilst at the other end, it seemed only time before
we opened the scoring.
But
it was not to be. Half-time found us in good spirits, with every hope of our
second win of the season. We little realised the anguish and cruelty that was
ahead.
Somehow,
we lost a bit of something after the break. Maybe it was because man-of-the
match Matt moved into the back four (with Martin C who was second in the MOTM
voting). He continued to shine, but we missed his bite in midfield. 3rd placed
MOTM, John, had a spell off now (that’s a spell off the field, not an off-spell
on the field). Charlie had come and gone with a recurrence of the leg injury.
Whatever it was, it translated into less dominance, but still 0-0 seemed like
the worse that would result.
And
we yet had hopes of victory. Our best chance came from a cross from the right
which Dave B & I steamed after, only for Dave to be felled by the keeper,
who made no effort to get to the ball. An obvious penalty,
and the ref put the whistle to his lips. But then, with a furtive look around,
he removed it again, without the vital intervening step of breathing out.
His
second dastardly failure to blow cost us the match. One of their opponents was
put through. James raised his flag for offside: rightly, as those on the spot
attest. The referee, despite not being on the spot, neither blew, nor firmly
called “play on”. It shouldn’t have made a difference, of course: we shouldn’t
have hesitated, and if we hadn’t, the 3rd shot that resulted from
this move might never have happened, and Dave W might not have been called on
to parry it, but not prevent it crossing the line. But we did, and it did, and
he was and he didn’t, and it was 0-1.
In
the remaining 5 minutes or so, we tried to get the elusive goal, but it all
came to nothing; as has our scoring in 7 of our last 9 games, I regret to
report.
But
when did we last lose 0-1? I hear you cry. Almost exactly a year ago: the first
weekend in May last season (to Berowra).
We
now face the slightly daunting task of finishing the first half of the season
with games against the teams placed 1st, 2nd & 4th
; starting with the latter, Lindfield, next Sunday. They have, though,
conceded an average of 2 goals a game, so winning by defending may not be our
best strategy.
Corrections:
I need a section for these, as I keep being told I’ve got things wrong.
Firstly, I reported last week’s opening goal for Northbridge as follows: “[a]
cross was met well by an attacker, but the shot deflected into the bottom right
of our net, giving Dave W no chance: 0-1.” All true, except that the
well-meeting of the cross, I am now told, was the work of Steve, with the
result being what we, in the trade, call an own-goal.
Secondly,
Dave W selflessly says that my reporting of the second goal (“a free kick to them just inside their half
was hoofed forward, bounced in our area and over everyone into the net”) failed
to say that this goal was his fault. But did I also report that Dave’s feet had
been nailed down, Norwegian Blue-like? Or that he had been tied to the
goalpost? I did not. What else could the informed reader (for whom alone these
reports are intended) conclude but that a goal from a free-kick in the opponent’s half (and one that bounced on its way in) implies a less
than completely ept moment for the keeper? I had not
intended to ram home this point, but I am now asked to do so, and there it is.
Thanks
this week to Tim for the beers; James for being linesman (& being insulted
by being ignored); & for Matt for filing in at short notice.
MARK
BRYANT