Match report: 08.07.12

Report 1: Gerald Jones

Every story, every drama, every history is written from a point of view.  There is no objectivity in writing, only the illusion of knowledge – the skill of the author is in persuading their reader that this was what actually happened, this was the way the events unfolded, this was why she left him.  Smoke and mirrors, boys, smoke and mirrors.  She left him because his breath smelt and he snored.  Simple as.

I arrived at 10am, driving through the river that was once the South Circular, peering into a steady sheet of rain that fell like a curtain  curtain of rain.  As I stepped from the car to look upon the empty Rye, as if for the first time man had gazed upon the rich Savannah of the African plains, I noticed that no one else had bloody turned up.  Light weights.  Richard P. soon joined me followed by Tufan who had been accosted from “The Others” whilst they pitifully sheltered under a tree down the path.  Even though it had clearly stopped raining.  The Others wanted a game.

The game was immense.  The pitch enormous.  The passions inflamed.  Steve kindly offered to play for The Others, and a Ringer stepped in to make up 6 for yellows.  Reds played direct attacking football up the hill, slicing through the channels and going 1-0 up through Tufan.  But Yellows fought back.  Steve crossed from corners and the right with pin-point accuracy onto the heads of Gareth and the other tall chap 1-1.  Gerald had a screaming hissy-fit at the very same tall chap who slid, studs-up, into a tackle with the care free attitude of a man who didn’t mind whether he ended his life with knees or ankles or legs in general.  Towards the end of the first half the Ringer had had enough, he took off his bib and strolled back into the mean streets of Peckham with his bro’s – a very sensible cautionary lecture from Tufan ringing in his ears about the relative morality of leaving a game mid-way through and the consequences of what might happen if he ever tried to join one of our games again.  Whilst this was going on Gareth rolled the ball into the net.  2-1 Yellows.

Half-time negotiations followed.  It was agreed that Yellow’s keeper could pick up the ball (most generous of the Reds to offer that concession I thought), and they could play downhill in the second half, again.  The rain fell and fell.

The aerial threat from the Steve-Gareth omni-combo continued and a further header followed. 3-1 Yellows.  Was this a Murray moment?  Had Reds bottled it, like Kent farmers pretending to adopt the “champagnoise method” and flogging soda-streamed grape juice as if it were Bollinger?  Richard P. pulled his shorts up (literally, and then used a peg)  Gerald was a constant presence of authority on the field, spraying Hollywood passes to the left and right – although not in front where the goal actually was – a threat to himself and others in mid-field, a Rock in defence (I blame the  mud – it was very easy to get bogged down in it).  Several of these passes reached other Red players occasionally.  Tufan dribbled like a new-born Ronaldo, and Richard N., Bruno and James combined to make it 3-2.  Then 3-3 as Bruno picked up the left-overs from a scrappy Red corner and smacked it satisfyingly into goal.  Yes, this was really happening.  Aaargggh  we completely forgot about the aerial threat.  4-3 to Yellows.  Damn the long ball into Number 9.  Another Tufan effort 4-4.  The tide was turning, the rain was falling, Reds felt this was their day, their time, their epoch.  Yellows made a goal-keeping error, failed to pick up a sniping red and it was 5-4.  James apologised to Yellows – it didn’t feel right, yet it felt so right – like reading 50 Shades of Grey on the commuter train on your Kindle.  With three minutes left Gerald went on a surging run on the break, beating one, two, three yellows crossing with the outside of his foot to Bruno who flicked and pirouetted the ball into Yellow’s net. Back-to-back wins against the Others.

You too can make history.  Literally (if you write the match report).

Report 2: James McGowan

Using our well-honed fieldcraft skills we decided to pitch the pitch on a slope to reduce standing water puddles.   Muddy, pretty big pitch (for us), there was even light banter between us and them.  We kicked off up the slope, Tufan causing havoc up front and slots one home to give us the lead.  Good passing generally, Gareth heads one past a diving James to level, great header, it’s like he meant it.  Gareth always a threat up front.  Can’t remember much about the score other than it started level, we went ahead, they went ahead by a couple – then the random decided to leave hence unbalancing a hitherto evenly played match, we were looking forward to playing downhill to eliminate their lead – however to compensate for their 5 vs our 6 we allowed them to pick up from back-passes and played uphill in the second half too.   A fractious moment ina good-natured game occurred when Pete slid-tackled Gerald and received a ticking off from Mr Jones, however peace resumed after apologies and the fact that the rule hadn’t been formally stated at the offset.

Second half Gareth scores another header but eventually the numbers tell and we draw level before negative James gets into a funk allowing Richie to hammer home with the lie “that didn’t feel great….”.  We score another to wrap it up, handshakes all round.

Final score: Red 6-4 Yellow