West Pymble B 1, Lane Cove West 2

4 August 2007, Commenara

Why is it called Commenara? I’ve often wondered. A mis-spelling of Connemara? An Aboriginal word for “bumpy pitch with sun in your eyes, which visitors rarely leave happy”? For once, Google is of no help: did I mean “Connemara?”, it wanted to know.

But, in any event, today we did leave happy, after one more unlikely win. Unlikely, that is, based on our first 10 minutes, in which we were mesmerized by that sun, or something. W Pymble were all over us and we were lucky to escape the period of horrors just the one goal down. This was largely due to Tony, who made a couple of crucial saves, one at point-blank range as he came out to meet a forward who had sliced his way through the jelly that was then our defence.

But even he couldn’t keep out the result of yet anther flowing move, and we were 0-1 down and struggling.

We blame Bob, of course. He was injured, and we certainly missed him. But Matt was there fortunately, and we soon realized that our way back was to copy him in chasing everything up front.

And slowly things got better, and were soon given a real tonic: our third penalty of the season. It was, I think, the softest ever given by - I was going to say – the opponents’ ref, but that would be unfair, as we’ve not seen much bias for or against lately.

But it was certainty soft. Mark S, following the “chase everything” approach, got to the ball and was nudged. It was only just a foul, and only just in the area, and the goal was not obviously threatened: this combination usually results in a call of “Play on”. But once you’ve blown the whistle, as this ref promptly did, you’re on the slippery slope; and the only way to get to where you’d rather be is a fudge: like indirect free-kick in the area, or direct one just outside. Peter, indeed, assumed the latter outcome and was placing the ball accordingly, as others of us were urging a stronger penalty. Which the ref then - honestly - gave.

Mark S had thus won his second penalty in 7 days, and his third of the season. But there can be no accusations of serial diving: in both cases this week, it was harrying the opponents into trouble of their own making; and earlier in the year it was a shot handled on the line.

So Peter recalibrated his sights, ignored the verbals from W Pymble, and smashed home, as usual, from the spot: 1-1.

Things almost got better still: a Peter special from way out rattled the bar, and the rebound hung in the air as Mark S dashed in. But it was hard to get power on the header and it came to nothing.

Meantime our defence had settled well, with the only scares resulting from the dazzling sun (which we were looking forward to having at our backs soon). Tony, again, was called on for heroics as lobbed balls rained down. And from one such attack an opposing forward did something nasty to some muscle, and for a while seemed intent on lying on the field until the official FIFA stretcher arrived. It didn’t, and eventually he was carted off, and we all tried to remember where we’d got to before he went down.

So 1-1 at half time was a much better position than the early exchanges had suggested.

And not far into the second half it got better still, with what was later described as the goal of the season. Now it happened to be scored by me, and without false modesty, I can say that it was pretty good! A defender lost control of the ball just inside their half, on our left. My first thought was to let it roll out for a throw-in. The second was a better thought: take the ball away from the line and see where it goes. Well: firstly it went around a defender, and then somehow to the edge of the box. I suppose that there must have been other defenders around, but (contrary to post-game expectations) I’m not reporting that I wove past 8 of them. There was certainly one just inside the box but I went round the left of him, and wallop! Across the ‘keeper: too far perhaps? But no – a satisfying thud against the inside of the far post, and in! 2-1.

Certainly a wonder goal. As in: I wonder how I did that. And: I wonder if I could do it again!

It was the sort of goal that you hope will win a match, but there was a long time to go, and our ranks were thinning. Steve B had managed a good run, considering his long injury, but was now irrevocably on the sideline. Mark S joined him as a result of a trodden-on achilles. Then I pulled a hamstring, and we were down to no subs, at least until we hauled Nigel from his linesman duties.

 What followed was our best part of the game, and the part that showed the character that has made this season, so far, so successful. It began at the back, with Tony somehow holding onto everything that came towards his hands, but also showing some of the old sweeping skills: one of his saves was more of a tackle, really, and very effective. Then Brian continued his no-nonsense sweeping (from the Tony school) and Eric, Martin and Tim not only got to the ball first, but often controlled it to give measured clearances or passes. In midfield, Phil’s injury got a good testing, but came through well: lots of telling tackles and firm clearances. John S was always finding space, calling for the sensible pass, and forwarding it on wisely. Peter was ducking and weaving and, with Howard’s customary whole-hearted marauding, controlling the centre. And Dave rampaged down the right, swinging over one particularly memorable cross that a defender at full stretch just took off attackers’ heads. Matt, as already reported, chased and snapped at heels, and by the end looked like he’d given every drop of energy. (But he must have renewed it somehow, as he ended up playing much of the A’s game too).

The net result of this was, as in so many second halves this year, that our opponents, whilst not giving up, came less and less to believe that they would score again, but maintained a healthy suspicion that we just might. And we very nearly did: near the end Nigel, who had come on to bolster our final efforts, carved out a couple of good chances which could easily have gone in and ended all the sideline nail biting. The last few minutes seemed to last for ever, not helped by the referee turning his back (literally) on our attempts to make another substitution (almost as if he had surmised – rightly - that our major motivation was to slow things down!). More attacks from them, and last-ditch tackles from us, but finally the whistle went, and signaled a rare win at this venue.

But not, as we had thought, our first win here: the very informative LCW website (which I commend to you) records that in 2003 we beat W Pymble here 1-0 with a Peter pile-driver out of the sun. (Would have expected Peter to remember, even if the rest of us didn’t. I certainly plan to remember my goal here; and mention it whenever we’re here, and sometimes when we’re not!)

And that 2003 game helps us put this season, so far, in context. Yes, it was a win, but it was sandwiched by seven defeats in our first eight games. We recovered to win five games that year, but seven (out of 18) is the best we’ve managed any year since.

But now we’ve won nine out of 15, so far this year. Recalling that we won only one of the first five, we’ve now won eight (and lost only one) of the last ten.

But, as our Prime Minister keeps telling us, hubris must be avoided. There’s a job still to be done. It’s not over till the last vote is bought etc. Three games to go, and the objectives are:

- add two more doubles (St Michaels & Gordon) to the second that we completed today

- prevent Northbridge A from being the only team to beat us twice this year.

Peter was third and Matt second, for reasons already made clear, in the MOTM voting. I was first for only a few seconds of eptness, but so it goes.

Thanks to Nigel for running the line in our game, then coming on as an enthusiastic fresh sub; to Brian for lining at 3 (and also playing, I believe); also to Ernie for wise allocation of scarce resources and to Tim for doing the beers.

MARK BRYANT