Ten
weeks ago we put in of our best performances and beat these opponents 3-2. This
time, they scored two again, but we were lucky to get none!
The
squad had an unfamiliar look. Martin was probably still at Heathrow (with the
children, no doubt asking, “Are we there yet?”. We all said how much we wished
we were there to help you, Martin!). Bob has also gone
Our
best moment (well, our only moment, really) came much too early for us to be
ready for it. Only a few minutes in, Mark S wisely ignored my attempt to take
the ball from him, and pushed it through to Matt who was bursting through the
defence. Just the keeper to beat from right in front; good hard shot; but just
a bit too straight, and a poked out leg poked it away.
And
that was it. No other chances. No half-chances. Couple of
corners. End of game.
Except
that they scored a couple, nearly scored lots more and missed a penalty.
The
first goal was another that should only go in once every five years, but that’s
two now this season. Forward way out right, gets the ball from a muffed
clearance, shoots or crosses or something and it sails into the top left corner
of the goal: 1-0.
That
was either before or after the penalty. But they were both in the first half.
Howard was adjudged to have tripped a forward in the area. It looked harsh from
where I was, and you could tell that Howard wasn’t impressed (though I
obviously didn’t properly grasp the bit of his defence that seemed to rest on
him not having pulled the player back earlier when they were both outside the
area; or was it that he had, so the earlier offence should have counted?).
Anyway, Tony kept his 100% record with penalties (never missed one; never let
one in) – this time without touching the ball that hit the post, then rebounded
to a forward who blasted it over.
Strangely,
we seemed to dominate the midfield, but the goal are on the parts of the field
some way away from there, so, of itself this didn’t count for much. Down their
end we never again got past their defence. Down our end, they did.
In
the second half Howard resumed his battle with the forward who was not unlike
him in - shall we say? – girth. A fine battle it was,
too, with Howard firing the last shot: a tackle near the end, beautifully timed
to take the ball – utterly fairly – but, in the same movement, bringing the man
to the ground with a crash that rattled the tea-cups in the clubhouse.
Regrettably,
in the meantime, he had got past Howard and onto a long through ball. The pass
might just have been long enough for Howard to have been credible had he
shouted “keeper” as it went by. As it was, waiting till it had actually gone
by, before shouting, gave just a hint that letting
the ball to go past hadn’t been the first choice. As did the way he’d lunged at
it, but missed. But, in any event, Tony rallied to the call, and steamed out to
what could have been a painful death, had he met the ball and the forward
face-on at full speed. But the forward got there just ahead, and pushed it
around Tony; perhaps too far, it looked to those of us gazing hopefully from
the other side of midfield. But no; he regathered it short of the goal-line and
manoeuvred it back into the goal: 0-2.
Somewhere
around here we had our second and third shots of the day, but they were pretty
feeble attempts (I can say this because they were mine). Much of the rest of
the game was taken up with us making pretty patterns in midfield, but more
often defending our goal from siege. Tim had another good game, including a
memorable scoop over the bar from right in front. The rest of the defence had
to work hard to keep the sore respectable.
Peter
was third in the voting; Eric second and Howard first (inevitably). Only Ernie
knows how the cumulative votes are going (or possibly doesn’t yet) but it’s
going to be close. (Be there on October 21 to find out who wins).
We’ve
now slid back to 6th, but are only 2 points from 4th,
where it would be good to finish, even though there are no semis.
Thanks to Tim for the beers and to Scott for running the
line yet again.
And to Matt’s Julia for washing AND folding the shirts!
MARK
BRYANT