Red : Oz, James, Richard P, Jean, Richard N
5-a-side! Good work y’all. Hazy memory this week though…..
We picked a green pitch mostly free of snow but the surface was frozen solid and even by the end of it all we hadn’t decided which was the best footwear. What was best though was those two Brazilians who joined us again. They were better on snow than us, even having never seen it before. As it turns out they’re better on ice hard ground too. Next week, grass. I hang my head in anticipatory humbleness but I will be pleased when it thaws. Their style did encourage us to pass more frequently and quickly which was a good lesson for us all.
Yellow scored first. Jean then got five minute hatrick with tricksy skills past Daniel in goal and one from Oz put Red 4-1 up. Somehow though Yellow clawed back some parity with Paulo being the lynchpin with, like his compatriot, some lovely quick footwork, passing and goals to put Yellow back in contention. Oz and Ahmet fired off quite a few trademark shots, some in but more than usual off target but they kept the keepers fit and warm. Daniel filled a hole with snow but Richard P tripped over the other one.
Richard N sent over a long diagonal cross-field ball to the advancing James. It didn’t reach him as it wasn’t on target. But it was on target for the goal and Tufan was helpless/hapless (who’d come out to block the cross) and watched as it flew in behind him. Amusing. The main point of note for the game though was Yellow’s chances which Ahmet said would come to bite us: Daniel missed a hatful of lovely low crosses from Steve, Tufan and Paulo. Just a touch on any of them…..Steve, usually accurate, skied a couple of volleys, and Tufan fired high once or twice. Although being 4-1 down very quickly, Yellow pulled it back to 6-5 at the break and then, despite the poor, poor finishing, it was 9-9 in the last five minutes. But then a shot came back off Steve in goal and Richard P was on hand first to side foot home the rebound. And then Richard N gained possession and had that twinkle in his eye that looked like he was going to hoof it anywhere as hard as could to let the remaining seconds tick away. He did, at the Yellow goal and it went in off Steve’s leg…beep.beep.beep. The Yellow comeback was a distant dream.