For the second week in a row, we came back from 0-2
to 1-2, and 1-3 to 2-3, but 2-4 was a bridge too far.
But there the similarities end. Last week we wondered
how the game got away. Today the reasons were all too clear: they were better
than us, more determined; and, yes, they weren’t just Bears, they were grizzly
too.
The sun again shone on the pocket handkerchief by the
sea that is Waverton; and it shone on our early endeavours. Most of the first ten minutes was us; using
what width there was, and moving the ball around well. But we never really
mastered the shortness of the pitch: there just wasn’t enough room to work in.
Gradually we lost control and it was not long before
we found ourselves two behind. One of them was a long-range shot from the left that
surprised everyone by finding its way inside the near-post. The other wasn’t,
and I’m struggling now to recall it. Header from a corner,
perhaps?
And the game got nastier as it went on. Tony was assailed
in mid-air, with no response from the referee. Peter was felled after a great
run on the left had taken him past several defenders and to the edge of the
area. I was clogged as I tried to head the ball past the centre-back. And
generally it was all knees and elbows and mouth: not how you really want to
spend an afternoon.
In the second half, we rallied well. This was the first
game for as long time that we had faced a really serious off-side trap. With
the short pitch and a (replacement) keeper who doubled as a sweeper it was hard
to find a way through.
But after about 55 minutes John responded to my call
as I set off past the straight line of defenders. His pass got held up by a deflection, just enough to hold it back from the advancing
keeper. I got there first, pushed it round him, to find myself in the penalty area,
ball at my feet, and all alone apart from a gaping goalmouth. This was such an
odd experience that I was tempted for a moment to savour
it. But clattering hooves behind, and the realization that
I would look really stupid if I didn’t score woke me up. Perhaps I wouldn’t
chip it into the air, and nod it in after all; maybe I’d just side-foot it. Which
I did and it was 1-2.
Our best period of play and a truly great goal for us
soon followed, but unfortunately they were punctuated by another goal from NSB.
Their forwards declined pleas to concede that a corner had been given wrongly,
and from it they scored with a close-range shot: 1-3.
But on we fought. Soon a series of attacks and
corners for us led to Peter & Brian involved on the left. Just outside the
area, and centre, John called for the ball which was smartly delivered into his
path. And BANG: half a second later it in the top of the net – an unstoppable
shot, perfectly hit: 2-3.
A minute later, we were deflated again: a goal a bit
reminiscent of Ronaldinho’s against
We had much more time to go than when we went behind
by the same score last week. But, although we kept on fighting to the end, 2-4
it remained.
Somewhere around here, we had a good shout for a
penalty turned down. (When did we last get one?). Handball in the area was
clearly seen by those who saw it (including the linesman, whose flag was raised
for a millisecond). Even the ref conceded that he’d “seen the handball”, but failed
to explain why it didn’t translate to a penalty.
We’d be hard-pressed to believe that, on the day,
they weren’t two goals better than us: they have a lot of skill, and a lot of
commitment, and we must only hope that they get promoted. But not before we
beat them the second time around!
But there was much to be proud of in how we fought;
and, at times, we showed the good passing football that has been evident in
each of our games: we just need to find a way to play it consistently.
John was man-of-the match, not just for the fantastic
strike but also for lots of hard work and creativity in mid-field. Peter was
second (ditto) and my goal, no doubt, got me over the line in third.
Thanks to Tim for hauling the beer the very long way
down; to Dave P for turning up to be linesman (though not called on); to Dave C
for being linesman at 3pm; and to Mark S for taking on the man-of-the-match
voting duties, with a passable imitation of Ernie’s announcing style.
MARK BRYANT