Well after a daft Sunday night out in Camden and nearly losing the old job on Monday apologies if my memory of the game is a bit hazy so any moments of brilliance anyone performed may well be glossed over. So think this is how the story goes;
So we all turned out on Sunday to glorious sunshine ready for some fine alliance champagne football. That thought was soon put to rest when we seen the state of the pitch which was harder than a teenage boy in a brothel. A strong line-up was picked with Berny in goals, Simon, Liam and Tim in defence, a packed midfield with Pete, Ian, Guy, Coyley, hairier Pete, and Micah up front with myself picking up a nice sun tan on the touch line. National seemed to have a stronger team than the previous week spear headed by a 9 year old laddy with wanky pink boots on.
So the game kicked off and the National put us under some early pressure using the wind to their advantage. Well into the half an extra player turned up for the National meaning we had only been playing ten men which had gone unnoticed by most. Everyone was working hard with Dan leading the way winning the majority of high balls in the middle of the park. The National picked up a free kick outside the box and the wee midget cleverly looped the ball over the wall but we were saved by the cross bar. The game carried on a bit scrappy with nothing really materialising. John was flexing his authority giving his 900th foul throw to us while kindly allowing the opposition of with much of the same. Paul got a bit riled at one of their blatant foul throws which John replied ‘well at least he made an effort’, sure that’s not official. More pressure followed from National with another long range effort striking the cross bar.
So half time 0-0. So far not a classic. Everyone was ready for an improved performance in the second half but not till after John had sucked back his 10th regal king size of the break. Aided by the wind we managed to start getting the ball down and playing some football. Some nice link up play with midfield and the forwards led to more efforts on goal and we started testing there shaky keeper. Coyley had a good effort saved and there were other attempts from Ian, Micah and Pete but none managing to find the back of the net.
At the other end Berny had little to do as the lads at the back kept the National quiet. Midway through the second half a quick change was made with the flying Scotsman coming on for Pete on the right wing. Soon after Ian looped an inch perfect ball over the top for me which then in my head was getting cracked into the top right corner but in reality ended up getting dolly dropped straight into the keeper’s hands.
Ten minutes remaining and it was decided to have a go and try and kill the game of. Simon was pushed up front and immediately the gamble paid of with Micah slotting home a scrappy goal from a few yards. Five minutes to go and it had looked like we had the game tied up. Tied up until one of their forwards took a pot shot from outside the box and the ball cruelly sailed into the bottom left corner (Ed. I may have left that one go thinking it was going to hit Darty in the front bottom on the other side of the goal. Whoops.) Cheeky bastards.
So final whistle and one each, think we probably deserved the game for our second half performance but at least the unbeaten run continues. MOM tough call as everyone grafted hard but probably give it to Micah for top effort and getting the goal. Roll on Perfidious.
Tuesday 31 March 2009
Thursday 19 March 2009
14 March vs FC National (a) (but kind of at home Regent's Park)
So I'm pedalling hard through Camden with Regents Park in my sights when straight out of nowhere a word pops into my head - ‘Titfer’ - hits me like a psychic bullet in the back my head from nowhere... Funny that, how things just pop into your head sometimes, voices and stuff, what the fuc ks that all about? So I’m mulling over the strange word in various Rowan Atkinson voices as I’m closing in on the hub – titfer, titferrr, tit-fur? tit for tat, hat, nope, still makes bugger all sense...why??
And then I walk in the changing room and there sits Bernie sporting a brand new hat, a beautifully iconic, fu ck off warm brown trilby with sepia details crowning a big smile on DR’s boat. What kind of coincidence is that, I ask you. Phew, anyway, now I get it, it’s a sign, a premonition, shouldn’t ignore signs, just ask Coyley about the mice and men pre matcher, bullet in the head an all that.... especially before a game, risky.
So here we go then, tit for tat, he wears a new hat, today Bernie isn’t on the pitch, whats in store, he’s wearing a different hat, the manager's hat...the plot thickens...Tit for tat? isn't that another way of saying what comes around goes around – hmmm I'm thinking resurgence, its our time to resurge, and we've had some bad luck lets face it.The mood is light as the nets fly up but Bernie’s in heavy conflab with the skipper. At least half an hour later they break from the huddle and the all new Berniemanager furnishes us with a well polished masterplan to unlock another glorious victory.
The strongest Alliance line up ever listen intently to the bosses measured tactical zen and watch meanly as the InterMilanese lookalike refugees limp into the other half - ‘they’re all over the shop’ muses the boss... Glaring on were - Big Eddie filling the goal mouth, Gibbsy and Liam right and left with Tim's big arse in the middle – 3 at the back, liking this... hovering malevolently in the middle are Hudson, Dan, and Simon, looking good.Iain and Pete, tinkering and tampering with National’s nuts up the flanks. Captain Coyle and Micah, if there was a fight in a pub I know where I’d be stood.Steve, Colin, James, oozing quality and quantity on the bench.And whats more, everyone fulfilled their destiny on this fine day, written out already as it was.
John’s on the whistle and we played some great football on our beloved lovely grass pitch in the sunshine, truly, quintessential English (sorry Col) Sunday League.Our nerve was good, we held it together, communication was good, confidence was growing. Bernie’s direction from the touchline was making a difference, the hat was making a difference, confident, colourful, some would say (and did) that it was showboating. Capitan Coyle has a few pops that could easily slide in but swerve cruelly wide. Finally its Dan who buries the first one after a sustained period of gutsy pressure that pinned National in their own half for longer and longer periods before the inevitable. It looks like great stuff, a powerhouse team performance and great individual efforts collaborating to demoralise and outplay the Natioanles, and now they were knackered.Ours was a well earned goal, deserved you could say, nothing like the shi te penalty they Morten Gamst Pedersoned. Tim took it in his pragmatic stride but I could see he was gutted, were we going to get done again by a team that didn't earn it, can the footie Gods be that mean? 1-1 Half time and the sun goes in....
We switch ends and we've got wind in our faces and we're kicking uphill, (wheres the lovely quintessential bo llocks now ed) Strangely I dont feel that familiar sense of foreboding, I can hear 3 points, and buckets of belief from everyone. We stomp out and the second half sees much of the same ballsy head to head, Hudson leading by example and gets a yellow for getting well stuck in, there are warnings from John to other Alliance enforcers stepping over the mark. Play switches effeortlessly from left to right, we snuff out everything they chuck at us, everyone defends, everyone pushes out to strike back, good patterning I'd say, ask the Hat, whose inspired substitutions by the way tee up the next sequence of events. Timing it perfectly the fresh NA legs are taking it out of the flagging blues and Dan's in again this time with a juicy little lob over the orange keeper and it's 2-1. Give them their dues they kept havin a go and got pretty close, but there was no submission, no surrender, even at our usual vulnerable 5 minutes to go to meltdown moment. Eddie's last goal kick cues the final whistle and another victory for the yellers, 2 fu ckin 1. What a great game. What a great titfer, got to take your hat of to him eh?
Man of the match is as hard as ever, but thinking hard about it, it'd be 'The Northern Alliance' cos everyone of you threw 110 percent at it for the total 90. Oh, and if you do experience little voices in your head, especially if you're on your bike, dont panic, just share it with the group, its probably quite important.
This is Gibbsy, signing off.
And then I walk in the changing room and there sits Bernie sporting a brand new hat, a beautifully iconic, fu ck off warm brown trilby with sepia details crowning a big smile on DR’s boat. What kind of coincidence is that, I ask you. Phew, anyway, now I get it, it’s a sign, a premonition, shouldn’t ignore signs, just ask Coyley about the mice and men pre matcher, bullet in the head an all that.... especially before a game, risky.
So here we go then, tit for tat, he wears a new hat, today Bernie isn’t on the pitch, whats in store, he’s wearing a different hat, the manager's hat...the plot thickens...Tit for tat? isn't that another way of saying what comes around goes around – hmmm I'm thinking resurgence, its our time to resurge, and we've had some bad luck lets face it.The mood is light as the nets fly up but Bernie’s in heavy conflab with the skipper. At least half an hour later they break from the huddle and the all new Berniemanager furnishes us with a well polished masterplan to unlock another glorious victory.
The strongest Alliance line up ever listen intently to the bosses measured tactical zen and watch meanly as the InterMilanese lookalike refugees limp into the other half - ‘they’re all over the shop’ muses the boss... Glaring on were - Big Eddie filling the goal mouth, Gibbsy and Liam right and left with Tim's big arse in the middle – 3 at the back, liking this... hovering malevolently in the middle are Hudson, Dan, and Simon, looking good.Iain and Pete, tinkering and tampering with National’s nuts up the flanks. Captain Coyle and Micah, if there was a fight in a pub I know where I’d be stood.Steve, Colin, James, oozing quality and quantity on the bench.And whats more, everyone fulfilled their destiny on this fine day, written out already as it was.
John’s on the whistle and we played some great football on our beloved lovely grass pitch in the sunshine, truly, quintessential English (sorry Col) Sunday League.Our nerve was good, we held it together, communication was good, confidence was growing. Bernie’s direction from the touchline was making a difference, the hat was making a difference, confident, colourful, some would say (and did) that it was showboating. Capitan Coyle has a few pops that could easily slide in but swerve cruelly wide. Finally its Dan who buries the first one after a sustained period of gutsy pressure that pinned National in their own half for longer and longer periods before the inevitable. It looks like great stuff, a powerhouse team performance and great individual efforts collaborating to demoralise and outplay the Natioanles, and now they were knackered.Ours was a well earned goal, deserved you could say, nothing like the shi te penalty they Morten Gamst Pedersoned. Tim took it in his pragmatic stride but I could see he was gutted, were we going to get done again by a team that didn't earn it, can the footie Gods be that mean? 1-1 Half time and the sun goes in....
We switch ends and we've got wind in our faces and we're kicking uphill, (wheres the lovely quintessential bo llocks now ed) Strangely I dont feel that familiar sense of foreboding, I can hear 3 points, and buckets of belief from everyone. We stomp out and the second half sees much of the same ballsy head to head, Hudson leading by example and gets a yellow for getting well stuck in, there are warnings from John to other Alliance enforcers stepping over the mark. Play switches effeortlessly from left to right, we snuff out everything they chuck at us, everyone defends, everyone pushes out to strike back, good patterning I'd say, ask the Hat, whose inspired substitutions by the way tee up the next sequence of events. Timing it perfectly the fresh NA legs are taking it out of the flagging blues and Dan's in again this time with a juicy little lob over the orange keeper and it's 2-1. Give them their dues they kept havin a go and got pretty close, but there was no submission, no surrender, even at our usual vulnerable 5 minutes to go to meltdown moment. Eddie's last goal kick cues the final whistle and another victory for the yellers, 2 fu ckin 1. What a great game. What a great titfer, got to take your hat of to him eh?
Man of the match is as hard as ever, but thinking hard about it, it'd be 'The Northern Alliance' cos everyone of you threw 110 percent at it for the total 90. Oh, and if you do experience little voices in your head, especially if you're on your bike, dont panic, just share it with the group, its probably quite important.
This is Gibbsy, signing off.
Tuesday 10 March 2009
8th March vs The Jokers (h): League
So this is what happens after we win is it? Friday afternoon and only seven plucky volunteers for the approaching Sunday fixture with Jokers / Inter Milan. Would we have to concede the game? Or would we turn out with a new-look Northern Alliance and deeply wish we had never bothered? Well I’ll be honest with you, for about 43 of the first 45 minutes I would have given anything to be at home, laughing into my mug of tea as the sleet pelted my window in a force 9 gale. How smug you stay-at-home b astards must have felt! But I don’t bear a grudge, so here’s how it happened:
As usual, at the allotted hour of 1.30, Bernie the timekeeper was nowhere to be seen. Only Iain, Micah’s Bionic Shoulder and new fella Sam so far, and Hudson laid on the bench moaning about his two hours sleep. Or more precisely moaning about having to play football after only two hours sleep. Bernie did turn up eventually though – carrying the kit bag, the nets, his kit, and four more Alliance newcomers in his back pocket. They were Other Pete, Ross, Matt and Nos.
Sunday had started brightly, and the sun shone until exactly two seconds before we stepped outside to warm up. Then it started raining big flat cold blobby rain drops propelled by a vicious arctic wind while we struggled hanging the stupid b astard nets. All around the field shaky little bodies stuffed extra layers under their sodden footy tops, squinting into the sleet.
John Hall blew for KO and we lined up something like this: Eddie in goal, Bernie, Dan, New Pete, Pete, Iain, Nos, Ross, Sam and Hudson (6 in midfield) with Micah alone up front with Matt on the bench.
The wind and rain somehow managed to blow in my face no matter which way I looked and within a minute of the whistle my socks were squelching with cold filthy mud. A ferocious explosion of thunder and lightning underlined what a right laugh god was having at our pathetic expense. Bernie is a wise man and trotted after John whispering that the pitch was unplayable, and he ought to call the game off. Well god and John Hall clearly have something in common, and it’s an evil sense of humour, so we played on. Buckets of early rain ensured we were all well soaked in time for the sub zero gales to start sapping every last ounce of strength, ability, and the will to live. If that Christmas match with the Germans in 1914 was anything like this, I can understand why they decided to spend another four years sitting in shell holes eating rat stew, offering themselves up as machine gun fodder. As we battled the wind and rain, somehow the Alliance applied some early pressure as the contingent of new men gelled nicely, threading some probing passes through the muck. Nos was forced to leave the field after 10 mins spent mainly on his arse, on account of wearing trainers, and Matt stepped boldly / coldly into the breach.
The Jokers are a team that likes to move the ball around smartly, and their obvious attacking quality was partially stifled by the sh itty weather. But it didn’t stop their forwards running about in the most ludicrous shapes all over the pitch. Me and Bernie were having great fun chasing the little Italians about for a while, until Dan pointed out we might as well just save energy and leave them to it.
Neither side appeared to be dominating the half as we traded attacks, but the Alliance did have a couple of let-offs as the wind buffeted the ball all over the place, and Eddie made the tightest of finger tip saves. Eventually some goal mouth confusion led to them nicking a soft goal, not entirely against run of play. How it happened I couldn’t tell you exactly, but we were all kind of rooted to the spot and just watched the ball roll into the net.
Mainly thanks to Micah’s ceaseless bellowed encouragement, we didn’t let our heads drop. The strong wind against us stifled Eddie’s kicks a bit but Micah got on the end of a few, heroically running against the shaky Jokers defence. The new lads were providing some classy link-up play over on the right and we forced a couple of corners and several (foul) throws from good positions. One such attack saw us causing problems in their box, when a Joker half-clearance appeared to have scuppered our chance.
Cue 100% commitment from Micah, who just made it to the by-line in time to whip in a dangerous cross. The hapless Jokers defender scrambled for a panicky clearance from 6 yards and walloped it smartly into his own net, despite the fact there were no Alliance shirts for 15 yards. 1-1, thank you very much. 23 men hobbled around the mud on frozen limbs for another 10 minutes until half time, and would you believe it, I think the sun almost came out for a moment. A metaphorical sun would have shone had Hudson's shot gone in and not been tipped round the post late in the first half.
Bernie’s half-time advice was to keep warm, which wrongly implied we might be warm already. Hudson had the good sense to cry off (his Spartycus moment never really taking off) and let Tim come on in central defence for the re-start. Frankly, it was anyone’s game and no-one’s at the same time. It seemed we had the beating of them on the right side of midfield and up front (ie. anywhere I wasn’t involved) while they had some flashy short Italian players in their attack, running rings around us. One of them even had the cheek to wear a hat for the remainder of the game.
But for all our pressure and loose balls in the box, there weren’t really any chances coming. Dan had a speculative effort from distance that the wind carried just over, I punted well wide of the near post after a corner, and a series of promising moves never quite delivered the final ball.
Meanwhile at the other end, Eddie demonstrated what a vital part of the Alliance he is, calmly gathering shots from all over that skittered on the slippery surface. Jokers squandered a few chances being a bit to busy with the back-heels and endless mazy runs. A couple of these attacks were snuffed out neatly on the edge of the box by good no-nonsense tackling from no-nonsense Dan – the second tackle earning him a note in John’s book. But Jokers still failed to convert any chances just as much as we did, and a gaping hole opened in the midfield as both teams hoofed the ball to their respective forwards.
As the time ticked by a sense of last-minute urgency took hold, afflicting Jokers’ keeper with a short bout of hysterics as John awarded a (probably) perfectly legitimate kick to us near the half way line. Iain had a frank exchange of views with their mad Northern Irish left winger, and Micah crouched down to square up to the 4ft 3in centre forward. But it never really turned nasty – we were all too damn cold.
With five minutes remaining I think we all privately considered the frost-bitten agony we had endured for the past hour and a half, and resolved that losing the match at this stage would be a bit too much to cope with. So those numb joints carried us on to battle and hoof wildly for a few minutes more until John did the decent thing, and blew his whistle on a 1-1 draw. I was pleased just to have survived with all my fingers and toes still attached.
As Bernie reflected after the game, we’re on a run now: that’s four points from two games. And next weekend’s my birthday so I’ll be out for a few pints, win lose or draw. Not that we’re going to lose (Ed. Too right, I smell blood again)
Tough call for man of the match this week. First of all, I extend a big thank you to the five new lads who turned out, saved our skin and worked harder than anyone could reasonably expect in difficult circumstances. Especially considering Steve had told them it was just “a kickabout in the park”. For my money, MOM honours are split between Eddie for keeping us in contention against the odds, Dan for showing everyone else how to put your foot through the ball when it counts, and Micah for having the determination to get a cross converted, even when there was no-one from his team in the box to aim at.
Pete.
As usual, at the allotted hour of 1.30, Bernie the timekeeper was nowhere to be seen. Only Iain, Micah’s Bionic Shoulder and new fella Sam so far, and Hudson laid on the bench moaning about his two hours sleep. Or more precisely moaning about having to play football after only two hours sleep. Bernie did turn up eventually though – carrying the kit bag, the nets, his kit, and four more Alliance newcomers in his back pocket. They were Other Pete, Ross, Matt and Nos.
Sunday had started brightly, and the sun shone until exactly two seconds before we stepped outside to warm up. Then it started raining big flat cold blobby rain drops propelled by a vicious arctic wind while we struggled hanging the stupid b astard nets. All around the field shaky little bodies stuffed extra layers under their sodden footy tops, squinting into the sleet.
John Hall blew for KO and we lined up something like this: Eddie in goal, Bernie, Dan, New Pete, Pete, Iain, Nos, Ross, Sam and Hudson (6 in midfield) with Micah alone up front with Matt on the bench.
The wind and rain somehow managed to blow in my face no matter which way I looked and within a minute of the whistle my socks were squelching with cold filthy mud. A ferocious explosion of thunder and lightning underlined what a right laugh god was having at our pathetic expense. Bernie is a wise man and trotted after John whispering that the pitch was unplayable, and he ought to call the game off. Well god and John Hall clearly have something in common, and it’s an evil sense of humour, so we played on. Buckets of early rain ensured we were all well soaked in time for the sub zero gales to start sapping every last ounce of strength, ability, and the will to live. If that Christmas match with the Germans in 1914 was anything like this, I can understand why they decided to spend another four years sitting in shell holes eating rat stew, offering themselves up as machine gun fodder. As we battled the wind and rain, somehow the Alliance applied some early pressure as the contingent of new men gelled nicely, threading some probing passes through the muck. Nos was forced to leave the field after 10 mins spent mainly on his arse, on account of wearing trainers, and Matt stepped boldly / coldly into the breach.
The Jokers are a team that likes to move the ball around smartly, and their obvious attacking quality was partially stifled by the sh itty weather. But it didn’t stop their forwards running about in the most ludicrous shapes all over the pitch. Me and Bernie were having great fun chasing the little Italians about for a while, until Dan pointed out we might as well just save energy and leave them to it.
Neither side appeared to be dominating the half as we traded attacks, but the Alliance did have a couple of let-offs as the wind buffeted the ball all over the place, and Eddie made the tightest of finger tip saves. Eventually some goal mouth confusion led to them nicking a soft goal, not entirely against run of play. How it happened I couldn’t tell you exactly, but we were all kind of rooted to the spot and just watched the ball roll into the net.
Mainly thanks to Micah’s ceaseless bellowed encouragement, we didn’t let our heads drop. The strong wind against us stifled Eddie’s kicks a bit but Micah got on the end of a few, heroically running against the shaky Jokers defence. The new lads were providing some classy link-up play over on the right and we forced a couple of corners and several (foul) throws from good positions. One such attack saw us causing problems in their box, when a Joker half-clearance appeared to have scuppered our chance.
Cue 100% commitment from Micah, who just made it to the by-line in time to whip in a dangerous cross. The hapless Jokers defender scrambled for a panicky clearance from 6 yards and walloped it smartly into his own net, despite the fact there were no Alliance shirts for 15 yards. 1-1, thank you very much. 23 men hobbled around the mud on frozen limbs for another 10 minutes until half time, and would you believe it, I think the sun almost came out for a moment. A metaphorical sun would have shone had Hudson's shot gone in and not been tipped round the post late in the first half.
Bernie’s half-time advice was to keep warm, which wrongly implied we might be warm already. Hudson had the good sense to cry off (his Spartycus moment never really taking off) and let Tim come on in central defence for the re-start. Frankly, it was anyone’s game and no-one’s at the same time. It seemed we had the beating of them on the right side of midfield and up front (ie. anywhere I wasn’t involved) while they had some flashy short Italian players in their attack, running rings around us. One of them even had the cheek to wear a hat for the remainder of the game.
But for all our pressure and loose balls in the box, there weren’t really any chances coming. Dan had a speculative effort from distance that the wind carried just over, I punted well wide of the near post after a corner, and a series of promising moves never quite delivered the final ball.
Meanwhile at the other end, Eddie demonstrated what a vital part of the Alliance he is, calmly gathering shots from all over that skittered on the slippery surface. Jokers squandered a few chances being a bit to busy with the back-heels and endless mazy runs. A couple of these attacks were snuffed out neatly on the edge of the box by good no-nonsense tackling from no-nonsense Dan – the second tackle earning him a note in John’s book. But Jokers still failed to convert any chances just as much as we did, and a gaping hole opened in the midfield as both teams hoofed the ball to their respective forwards.
As the time ticked by a sense of last-minute urgency took hold, afflicting Jokers’ keeper with a short bout of hysterics as John awarded a (probably) perfectly legitimate kick to us near the half way line. Iain had a frank exchange of views with their mad Northern Irish left winger, and Micah crouched down to square up to the 4ft 3in centre forward. But it never really turned nasty – we were all too damn cold.
With five minutes remaining I think we all privately considered the frost-bitten agony we had endured for the past hour and a half, and resolved that losing the match at this stage would be a bit too much to cope with. So those numb joints carried us on to battle and hoof wildly for a few minutes more until John did the decent thing, and blew his whistle on a 1-1 draw. I was pleased just to have survived with all my fingers and toes still attached.
As Bernie reflected after the game, we’re on a run now: that’s four points from two games. And next weekend’s my birthday so I’ll be out for a few pints, win lose or draw. Not that we’re going to lose (Ed. Too right, I smell blood again)
Tough call for man of the match this week. First of all, I extend a big thank you to the five new lads who turned out, saved our skin and worked harder than anyone could reasonably expect in difficult circumstances. Especially considering Steve had told them it was just “a kickabout in the park”. For my money, MOM honours are split between Eddie for keeping us in contention against the odds, Dan for showing everyone else how to put your foot through the ball when it counts, and Micah for having the determination to get a cross converted, even when there was no-one from his team in the box to aim at.
Pete.
Sunday 1 March 2009
28 February 2009 vs Shanty Town (a): League: Market Road
As Dan pointed out it was a game of two halves, and as I pointed out, I was the causal link between the two halves of football and the outcome of the game.
First half:
Team: Eddie, Ian (Simon’s mate), Liam, Tim, Colin, Simon, Dan, Steve, Guy, Paul Sub: Bernie
Score: 1-1
Second half:
Team: Eddie, Ian, Liam Tim, Bernie (on for Colin), Simon, Dan, Steve, Guy, Paul
Score: 5-0
Final score: 6-1 (this section is for those who are more words than numbers)
You can’t argue with what I’m saying there can you boys?
So how did the Alliance’s first win of the season materialise? Has the Smith/Coyle dream team finally found the winning formula?
In the post match press conference, skipper Coyle spoke to journalists eager to here the contributing factors to the victory; ‘we’ve been threatening to do that for a few weeks now…it was only a matter of time before we gave someone a good hiding. There’s a long way to go to get us out of this relegation battle, we’ll enjoy a drink tonight and the goals on MOTD, then it’s back to work on Monday for next week’s game’. The press went on to question Coyle about his recent stress busting break in the Gambia and next week’s scouting mission to Eastern Europe. But then the camera’s roared, and the gentlemen of the press rose as one, of course, there was now a Smith amongst us…
So we set up with the new and innovative 3-6-1 which had served us well in the unlucky defeat against Fowlers in the cup. With Micah sidelined, Coyley, bronzed and fresh from his aforementioned Gambian adventure, stepped into the striking birth with Guy plying his trade in front of the midfield.
The game was scrappy to start with and we weren’t looking as assured as last week at the back. Different team, different surface, different personnel perhaps but whatever the reasons we were getting cut open by Shanty Town. And we were making them look good. Coyley was getting isolated and Steve didn’t know who to mark in the middle. Having said all that on a rare foray into the box from the Alliance, I think Ian (Simon’s mate), was fouled (but I stand corrected). Simon, the Alliance’s first choice penalty taker, stepped up to slot home. 1-0.
Before and after we scored Shanty Town had the ball in the back of the net a couple of times but were ruled off side by John Hall – they didn’t look that offside but I couldn’t tell from the sidelines. We got lucky as they picked us off at will.
From the sidelines, the tactical mechanics of my mind were working over time to find an even more complicated formation to communicate to the team. In the end I decided on reverting to a more conventional 4-5-1 with Colin and Ian as full backs. With the Alliance I’ve realised if things aren’t working make a change, in the rest of my life I flog a bad decision to death then change my mind after it’s too late to make a change. But my ruthless streak emerges on the sidelines so I made a change. Shortly after this change, the score also changed. 1-1. A ball over the top of the flat back four I’d changed found our defenders chasing one of their players who was one on one with Eddie. Eddie came half way then cemented himself to the penalty spot leaning against a ‘Entry forbidden’ sign. Unfortunately, their player ignored or did not see this sign which gave the big man no option than to bring him down. They converted the penalty.
At half time we re-grouped, and I reminded our lot we’d got away with it as we could and should have been two or three down. Luckily we weren’t, so we sounded the battle cry and vowed to put them to the sword. I smelt blood…although most of the team had cut their respective knees open by this point so it really was no surprise. Smithy stepped in for Colin who’d tweaked a muscle. We needed to get the ball on the deck and take it to ‘em.
Smithy immediately added to the composure and experience of the team, setting the tone with some sharp passing moves with Pete, Guy, Coyley et al. We were still a bit flat footed at the back and they caused a few problems in the first ten minutes but they wasteful up front and again we escaped. Then things changed, the smell of our bloody knees was suffocated by the smell of poo as the Alliance ‘ripped them apart’ with a series of really, rather intricate passing moves.
To take us 2-1 up, a smart pass down the left (nb that’s where I was mostly hanging out readers, so I wonder who did that? I cant keep referring to my direct influence but take it as red that a lot of the best stuff was coming down the left hand side of the pitch. I should point out I was aided and abetted by m’learned colleague, Mr Pete Stupple) found it’s way to Steve or Guy or they passed to each other. Now think World Cup 1970, the ball is passed a long the area until Carlos Alberto arrives down the right and powers home. So we had a portly version of Alberto arriving, who described it as a ‘classic Monahan finish’, to put us 2-1 up. But this was sure aint no disco at this point.
Another pass down the left led to Guy feeding Paul to score our third and suddenly we’re winning and with some style. We’re passing, moving and hungry for it. They are arguing between themselves and we’re heading for victory. Shortly after we had a corner or a ball from the right from Ian – Simon’s mate – who can be very pleased with his debut for the Alliance – marauding up the right flank and putting in dangerous crosses. After a scramble in the box the ball looped up and as it came down Steve volleyed in – there was no margin for error in the direction as there were plenty of bodies and only a small part of the goal to aim at but it found its way in. 4-1. When your two bit, good for nothing dirt bag of a cousin starts scoring goals for fun as Big Ron would have put it then you know it’s going to be your day. We were nearly ready for a disco by this point but still had to be alert. They’d stuck on their big forward (who amusingly pointed out that he came on at 2-1, and when he said it, it was 5-1) and were still having a go but Liam, Tim, Ian and that rather charismatic, dangerously good looking one down the left kept it tight. Pete helped too.
Then it was just like watching Brazil, well a fat imposter version of Brazil, as the Alliance started shooting at will. Yes that’s at will. Not a bloke called Will who we took a dislike to, and if there had been a brothel on the pitch even Coyley would have probably dipped his wick. Simon and Paul both had efforts turned round by their keeper and Guy was free and running a mock. Pete was doing a lot of leg work up and down the flanks and linking well with the forwards while Simon and Dan made sure the gates to the Alliance Country house were locked. I cant remember the sequence of play but the ball came to Ian on the right flank and he put in a cross cum shot (all over her face) which out did their keeper and number 5 is alive for the Alliance. And it could have been more, so many more. To give you an idea Paul was chipping the ball to the edge of the area for Guy to have Scholesyesque pop shots at goal. We were walking (thankfully for once) in an Alliance wonderland.
And there was one more. I can say without doubt that we saved the best til last. I’ve seen some good goals playing for the Alliance and I’ve no doubt the year before I played where the Lesley Dart / Los Bodious partnership of the now legendary, potentially mythical 2001/2 season saw some belters as apparently they both scored 25 each (chinny reck on). And Coyley, when he was in his pomp and without the pressures of captaincy/management on his shoulders, scored a last minute equaliser from miles out against FC National at Hackney Marshes. But I think Guy’s effort is the best goal I’ve seen for the Alliance (well from what I can remember) – the ball popped out of the area and in some sort of Daniel LaRusso kick that would have given Mr Miyagi plenty of reasons to re-wax the fence, Guy volleyed in mid flight and put it under the cross bar. The keeper wouldn’t have sin it on the action replay. It was a seaming rosner make no mistake and that was that. Phew! 6-1 and three very valuable points for the Alliance cause (which if any of you weren’t aware was not to finish bottom for the second year in a row, but still go to the pub occasionally).
Full time and off we trotted to the pub – where sandwiches and some slightly dubious looking sausages were laid on for us seemingly just for drinking – for general back slapping and merriment. We headed to the Big Chill Bar to carry on the celebrations and watch the girls go by, and my word that’s given us some material for a few weeks. Unless of course you have a mentalist booty call at your beck and call. We’ll miss Simon’s love life updates during his West African partnership mission as we seek to grow the Alliance brand overseas.
A great team performance, Eddie didn’t have too much to do, due to the steely concentration of Tim and Liam. Some responsibility in midfield as Dan and Simon took it in turns to hold. A great debut from Ian, Coyley did some sturling stuff. Steve ran all game (and got a deserved goal), Pete linked up well and did some of my running too, but in the end Guy gets MOM for creativity, control and for a finish you don’t see very often. At least not in our golden amber Saturday afternoon dreams….
Forza Alliance.
First half:
Team: Eddie, Ian (Simon’s mate), Liam, Tim, Colin, Simon, Dan, Steve, Guy, Paul Sub: Bernie
Score: 1-1
Second half:
Team: Eddie, Ian, Liam Tim, Bernie (on for Colin), Simon, Dan, Steve, Guy, Paul
Score: 5-0
Final score: 6-1 (this section is for those who are more words than numbers)
You can’t argue with what I’m saying there can you boys?
So how did the Alliance’s first win of the season materialise? Has the Smith/Coyle dream team finally found the winning formula?
In the post match press conference, skipper Coyle spoke to journalists eager to here the contributing factors to the victory; ‘we’ve been threatening to do that for a few weeks now…it was only a matter of time before we gave someone a good hiding. There’s a long way to go to get us out of this relegation battle, we’ll enjoy a drink tonight and the goals on MOTD, then it’s back to work on Monday for next week’s game’. The press went on to question Coyle about his recent stress busting break in the Gambia and next week’s scouting mission to Eastern Europe. But then the camera’s roared, and the gentlemen of the press rose as one, of course, there was now a Smith amongst us…
So we set up with the new and innovative 3-6-1 which had served us well in the unlucky defeat against Fowlers in the cup. With Micah sidelined, Coyley, bronzed and fresh from his aforementioned Gambian adventure, stepped into the striking birth with Guy plying his trade in front of the midfield.
The game was scrappy to start with and we weren’t looking as assured as last week at the back. Different team, different surface, different personnel perhaps but whatever the reasons we were getting cut open by Shanty Town. And we were making them look good. Coyley was getting isolated and Steve didn’t know who to mark in the middle. Having said all that on a rare foray into the box from the Alliance, I think Ian (Simon’s mate), was fouled (but I stand corrected). Simon, the Alliance’s first choice penalty taker, stepped up to slot home. 1-0.
Before and after we scored Shanty Town had the ball in the back of the net a couple of times but were ruled off side by John Hall – they didn’t look that offside but I couldn’t tell from the sidelines. We got lucky as they picked us off at will.
From the sidelines, the tactical mechanics of my mind were working over time to find an even more complicated formation to communicate to the team. In the end I decided on reverting to a more conventional 4-5-1 with Colin and Ian as full backs. With the Alliance I’ve realised if things aren’t working make a change, in the rest of my life I flog a bad decision to death then change my mind after it’s too late to make a change. But my ruthless streak emerges on the sidelines so I made a change. Shortly after this change, the score also changed. 1-1. A ball over the top of the flat back four I’d changed found our defenders chasing one of their players who was one on one with Eddie. Eddie came half way then cemented himself to the penalty spot leaning against a ‘Entry forbidden’ sign. Unfortunately, their player ignored or did not see this sign which gave the big man no option than to bring him down. They converted the penalty.
At half time we re-grouped, and I reminded our lot we’d got away with it as we could and should have been two or three down. Luckily we weren’t, so we sounded the battle cry and vowed to put them to the sword. I smelt blood…although most of the team had cut their respective knees open by this point so it really was no surprise. Smithy stepped in for Colin who’d tweaked a muscle. We needed to get the ball on the deck and take it to ‘em.
Smithy immediately added to the composure and experience of the team, setting the tone with some sharp passing moves with Pete, Guy, Coyley et al. We were still a bit flat footed at the back and they caused a few problems in the first ten minutes but they wasteful up front and again we escaped. Then things changed, the smell of our bloody knees was suffocated by the smell of poo as the Alliance ‘ripped them apart’ with a series of really, rather intricate passing moves.
To take us 2-1 up, a smart pass down the left (nb that’s where I was mostly hanging out readers, so I wonder who did that? I cant keep referring to my direct influence but take it as red that a lot of the best stuff was coming down the left hand side of the pitch. I should point out I was aided and abetted by m’learned colleague, Mr Pete Stupple) found it’s way to Steve or Guy or they passed to each other. Now think World Cup 1970, the ball is passed a long the area until Carlos Alberto arrives down the right and powers home. So we had a portly version of Alberto arriving, who described it as a ‘classic Monahan finish’, to put us 2-1 up. But this was sure aint no disco at this point.
Another pass down the left led to Guy feeding Paul to score our third and suddenly we’re winning and with some style. We’re passing, moving and hungry for it. They are arguing between themselves and we’re heading for victory. Shortly after we had a corner or a ball from the right from Ian – Simon’s mate – who can be very pleased with his debut for the Alliance – marauding up the right flank and putting in dangerous crosses. After a scramble in the box the ball looped up and as it came down Steve volleyed in – there was no margin for error in the direction as there were plenty of bodies and only a small part of the goal to aim at but it found its way in. 4-1. When your two bit, good for nothing dirt bag of a cousin starts scoring goals for fun as Big Ron would have put it then you know it’s going to be your day. We were nearly ready for a disco by this point but still had to be alert. They’d stuck on their big forward (who amusingly pointed out that he came on at 2-1, and when he said it, it was 5-1) and were still having a go but Liam, Tim, Ian and that rather charismatic, dangerously good looking one down the left kept it tight. Pete helped too.
Then it was just like watching Brazil, well a fat imposter version of Brazil, as the Alliance started shooting at will. Yes that’s at will. Not a bloke called Will who we took a dislike to, and if there had been a brothel on the pitch even Coyley would have probably dipped his wick. Simon and Paul both had efforts turned round by their keeper and Guy was free and running a mock. Pete was doing a lot of leg work up and down the flanks and linking well with the forwards while Simon and Dan made sure the gates to the Alliance Country house were locked. I cant remember the sequence of play but the ball came to Ian on the right flank and he put in a cross cum shot (all over her face) which out did their keeper and number 5 is alive for the Alliance. And it could have been more, so many more. To give you an idea Paul was chipping the ball to the edge of the area for Guy to have Scholesyesque pop shots at goal. We were walking (thankfully for once) in an Alliance wonderland.
And there was one more. I can say without doubt that we saved the best til last. I’ve seen some good goals playing for the Alliance and I’ve no doubt the year before I played where the Lesley Dart / Los Bodious partnership of the now legendary, potentially mythical 2001/2 season saw some belters as apparently they both scored 25 each (chinny reck on). And Coyley, when he was in his pomp and without the pressures of captaincy/management on his shoulders, scored a last minute equaliser from miles out against FC National at Hackney Marshes. But I think Guy’s effort is the best goal I’ve seen for the Alliance (well from what I can remember) – the ball popped out of the area and in some sort of Daniel LaRusso kick that would have given Mr Miyagi plenty of reasons to re-wax the fence, Guy volleyed in mid flight and put it under the cross bar. The keeper wouldn’t have sin it on the action replay. It was a seaming rosner make no mistake and that was that. Phew! 6-1 and three very valuable points for the Alliance cause (which if any of you weren’t aware was not to finish bottom for the second year in a row, but still go to the pub occasionally).
Full time and off we trotted to the pub – where sandwiches and some slightly dubious looking sausages were laid on for us seemingly just for drinking – for general back slapping and merriment. We headed to the Big Chill Bar to carry on the celebrations and watch the girls go by, and my word that’s given us some material for a few weeks. Unless of course you have a mentalist booty call at your beck and call. We’ll miss Simon’s love life updates during his West African partnership mission as we seek to grow the Alliance brand overseas.
A great team performance, Eddie didn’t have too much to do, due to the steely concentration of Tim and Liam. Some responsibility in midfield as Dan and Simon took it in turns to hold. A great debut from Ian, Coyley did some sturling stuff. Steve ran all game (and got a deserved goal), Pete linked up well and did some of my running too, but in the end Guy gets MOM for creativity, control and for a finish you don’t see very often. At least not in our golden amber Saturday afternoon dreams….
Forza Alliance.
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