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.