Footy : June 2017

Sunday morning June 11th was a hot one ... hot enough to boil a monkey's bum (to quote the prime minister). The grass at Sharpeners Pond in North Andover was long and the pitch was now going the other way ... as my dad would say, it was a bit "skew whiff". My late dad was a hail fellow well met unlike our hosts who trash talked to a fair thee well ... they were "foul fellows ill met". Captain Flicky was at a gala luncheon in Blighty so we had to fend for ourselves. Andy took the reins and lined us up 3-2-3-2 or 3-5-2 if you prefer. We managed this without the white board and markers which was astonishing given the attention span of our squad. We scored first ... this Limey bastard from the right hand side of the box with the left peg. I know, I know ... typo, error, hallucination .... but it really was scored with me left ... and it was a shot .... and it did go in. My first this season. They scored to tie it up ... a rubbish shot that I remember nothing of other than it's rubbish-ness. We scored with a belter from Pat ... his first of the season. They scored again and I know nothing of it other than ... it was rubbish. The go ahead goal came from Doug the subway fugitive Viggliolottaoilonpizza ... a shot in anger, driven hard and low into the corner of the old onion bag. I managed to get the fourth goal at the death ... ball was loose, they were knackered so I smashed the thing into the roof of the net, shuffled back to the center spot, they kicked off and the ref blew. The masterbators were relegated, we were going to the play offs and it was time to get into some dry shreddies sharpish.

I took the post game shreddy swap to a whole new level this week. Here is how it worked. I know that Rob is eager to learn my secret to a comfortable undercarriage:

1. Open two car doors to form quasi changing room.
2. Place dog mat on the ground between doors. Pooch loses out.
3. Place dry shreddies on roof of car.
4. Step into changing room.
5. Drop kecks.
6. Pause to enjoy breeze (not too long lest the authorities catch wind).
7. Don dry shreddies.
8. Enjoy.
9. Go about the rest of your day.

Woops ... forgot to mention that you should put your trousers on after the dry shreddies ... I've made that mistake before and had a lot of explaining to do. Yiannis Moorhen represented me with a "dementia/post game beer fog" defense that worked well with a jury of my peers.

OK so where was I? Ah yes ... the post game celebrations. We drove to Pat's house to enjoy a veritable feast. The beer flowed like wine allowing me to once again use this daft expression and make myself laugh as I scribble. Pat's salad was a cracker because it has blueberries in it ... an anti oxidant feastival. I think that the blueberries made me fart but it's hard to know given my perpetual tail wind. There was a chicken and sausage pasta sauce concoction and lots of garlic bread for mopping up the sauce. The banter was right there and was led by the king of all banter ... Doug the subway fugitive who recounted tales of nefarious activities.

Derek deserves a mention because he really did a number on Thomas and kept the danger man in check. I learned after the game that in addition to the running physical battle, Thomas also gave Derek the verbal treatment for the whole game. This tactic would never work on Derek who has only spoken twice this season ... the first time was so utter "fuck, that hurt" and the second "what the fuck was that for?" Brian Sweenmerchant had a good game and perfected his cursing with every clearance ... usually "mutherfucker" or "suckmyd*ck". Will shouted a lot of obscenities although mainly at fellow team mates ... Frank is changing his meds so that the insults are directed at the other team from now on. The anger management classes just aren't working for Wilberforce ... boys, we may need an intervention.

Stoneham pipped us by a point which is perplexing and I can't fit any more P words into this sentence. Next Sunday we battle Concord in the semi finals of the play offs and this time I think we will win ... probably with a brace from Paschal who is being released from solitary for the game.

That's it from the grassy knoll. We have the beast in our sights!

First off a question ... what's a Grecian earn? Answer ... about thirty bob a week. I just realized that this joke really doesn't work in written form .... urn = earn. Anyway, moving on. This game was dominated by a lamb on a spit. Dimos was at Captain Gilfeather's ranch at daybreak to personally insert a long shaft into the cavity of the beast which was thence duly trussed up. The lamb was cooked over an open fire for hours whilst being attended to by a couple of amiable fellows who apparently guard roasting meats for Dimos on a fairly regular basis ... there must be a name for such a service but I don't know it ... lamb shaftee attendants perhaps? After the match we trogged over to Captain Gilfeather's but the beast was not ready for consumption so we drank away the time and eventually we feasted like real men ... gorging on hunks of tender meat and guzzling tankards of mead. I farted my way home and collapsed on the couch in a lamb coma ... hours passed by which time the fermentation process in my belly produced some prize winning emissions. Eventually I showered, donned some clean shreddies and honked away the afternoon until I dragged myself to a graduation party where I ate nothing and drank nothing for the simple reason that nothing would fit. ... a great day.

What of the footy? We were crap in the first half. Everyone played like crap (and I was the crappest of all) and we coughed up two goals. Andy gave a Churchillian half time speech and we played much better although not at our best. Captain Flicky belted one in from an improbably angle and Dimos got the second. We really needed a winner but it was not to be. Two wins from our last two games will be needed to secure top spot and I think it will come to pass.