Anyway, I digress. Clearly getting to work was not an option. Even though, staying as I was in central London, a half hour walk or a few stops on the resilient Victoria line meant it was certainly was an option. But work didn’t know that, for I was stranded in West Dulwich as far as they were aware. Instead, I headed back over to the scene of the game the day before through a beautifully snowy Regent’s Park, en route to Primrose Hill for a bout of kamikaze sledging on a metal tray. Walking past some impressive snowmen I took the below picture on my phone for those of you who have yet to witness the all new Fortress Allianza.
And Fortress Allianza it certainly was, well, metaphorically speaking. Impenetrable to some of our own men as well it seemed as, with only five minutes remaining before KO, our forces were looking as thin on the ground as the Belgian military presence, well, outside of Belgium.
Corporal Jonesy had come through with aerial reconnaissance pictures of a grey, circular, concrete structure earlier in the week and our Napoleon-sized general had slated a 1.15 rendez-vous. But neither our leader nor goalkeeper were anywhere to be seen. Whilst we waited, time was passed admiring our new surroundings; never have I seen grown men so in awe of a small black hairdryer. A glistening white board outside in reception slated our pitch number and the Home and Away changing rooms (insert bad Australian-themed joke here at leisure). If a nuclear war was to break out this place wouldn’t be a bad bet for seeking refuge, certainly a step up from our last home encounter where it seemed a nuclear war might have been a recent reality.
Not only were we left to admire our plush new surroundings, but also Captain Coyley’s brand spanking new boots. I struggle for the words to describe them, so I’ll let the picture do the talking, a thousand words as the saying goes, quite possibly most of them four letters long. Here they are pictured next to Micah’s red devils, the pair of them revolutionising the world of 3-D technology in front of our very eyes:
Finally the game was afoot, kicking off late at 2.30, Bernie making a rushed appearance, looking like he might well have slept in the park. Micah started between the sticks, bravely standing in for the still AWOL Eddie. Woody, Liam, Tim and Gibbsy across the back, Dan and Simon in the middle with Guy and Bernie patrolling the flanks. Simon and Coyley led the line. Conditions were blustery and the game settled into a fierce stand off, no side yielding an inch, no ground gained. Long balls were taken out by the wind and there were few chances to speak of. It was tight and competitive. Cambazola didn’t look like a team who had taken us to task 5-0 in our last game, and we didn’t look like a team who would be beaten by 5. Battling performances were put in by Dan and Ian in the middle supporting solid work by the back four, Ian resolutely heading everything that came his way. That sense of shakiness which has often characterised the Alliance defence this season had been swept away by the wind. But after 20 minutes or so a loose ball on the edge of the box fell to one of their lads and was curled up over Micah into the top right. Pete, my optimism deficient ‘bench’-warming comrade, wearily commented that “This is a bit like what happened last time” as it started to snow. 0-1.
Simon was mercilessly hacked down by one of their bruisers, of which there were a few, the culprit lucky to escape without a booking. Cambazola seem to be a bit of niggly side who took advantage of some beefy players to go in strong, their number 7, Dolph Lundgren, the worst of the lot. Eddie finally appeared, seemingly unruffled by having been bamboozled by the intricacies of Regent’s Park inner maze for the best part of an hour, and was thrust into the action as Simon was subbed off - the ensuing tactical change transforming our goal keeper into centre forward in the blink of an eye and the shake of a shirt. Half time came and the Northern Alliance was still firmly in the game.
Pete came on for a Bernie who had clearly demonstrated in the first half that sleeping in the wilderness does not a football genius make. Playing with the wind at our backs and the conditions easing a bit the game settled down and the ball was moved around a bit more freely. Woody and Guy put in some good combinations down the right, Tim, Liam and Gibbsy mercilessly defending their line.
What’s that you say John? Penalty? Really, are you sure? Pete had charged down the left wing and been chopped down (Or been dispossessed by a great tackle, outside of the box.) Nevertheless, following a careering roll, Pete was firmly inside the edge of box and, never one to let the Alliance down, our twelfth man, sorry, the referee, signalled to the spot. “If he misses this he’s off” conferred the coaches on the touchline, not necessarily betraying a particularly ruthless streak, just the fact that Coyley was having a bit of a stinker generally.
Under hotly contested circumstances, and no doubt a fair bit of gamesmanship by the opposition, the ball was finally placed. Whether Coyley was put off by this or by the flash of some lime green hypertext transfer protocol shimmering across his new internet boots we will never know, but the goalkeeper guessed the right way and saved to his right post. The ball was kicked up field and they nearly raced away and scored. As I readied myself for entering the fray in place of Coyley he received the ball at the edge of the box, took a touch and hammered the ball over the keeper into the top left in majestic fashion. Instant redemption as Simon, hand caressing the guillotine a moment earlier, rushed onto the pitch to kiss the shiny boots, much to the consternation of the crestfallen Cambazolans. 1-1.
The lead was short lived as what looked like an excellent finger tipped save by Eddie to a finger-stinging effort cruelly dipped under the bar on second asking and rolled limply into the net. 1-2. I came on for Guy as we pressed for an equalizer and Micah shifted to the right wing. They came close a couple of times, a near miss on the right hand post, some squandered chances, a few smart saves and some quick thinking by our keeper foiling them at every turn (Not to mention a more justified shout for a spot kick than our own, but we’ll breeze past that quickly). We continued to battle and our perseverance brought dividends as leading goal scorer and never-say-die battler Dan, smashed in a beauty from the edge of the box - the third top corner goal of the encounter, with about 10 minutes to go. 2-2. The game continued in the spirit it had been played, tough tackling and combative, but no further clear chances came and the whistle shrilled signalling that a much deserved draw was ours. It was the sort of draw that felt like a victory, brilliant performances across the board and writing the wrongs of the previous match.
As we retreated back to the much needed warmth of the changing rooms, John Hall piped up “The grass game suits you boys doesn’t it?” Thanks John, yes it does.
Man of the Match: Very tough. Ian and Dan both had great games in central midfield. If it could be a joint award then the back four would share the spoils for a no-nonsense, tough tackling and battling performance. To separate the centre back wall of Tim and Liam would be unfair, both repelling many an assault. So, for an audacious 35 yard lob in blustery conditions, non-stop running and some crucial tackles the award this week goes to Gibbsy.
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