Garston 0 Knobs 2

A grand game, albeit only 40 minutes each way as it turned out, on the grassy true flowing Met Police ground. We deserved our win, with a somewhat changed side. Garston I feel misled us as to the make up of their side, leading me to leave Phil, Matt, Chris, Gavin and Mike grinding out their frustrations in domestic settings- still other people had a chance to play and contribute. Enough of the psychological warfare.
Man of the match, without a doubt surely was our keeper Trevor who caught everything cleanly and saved all that was propelled toward him, including a one on one save to which one could only retort "bravo"!
Having said that, it was not a game we were lucky to win. Not at all, we played some lovely and penetrating stuff, especially in the first half, and we scored with some of our chances and Trevor saved all of theirs. Personally I was a bit chuffed when their senior players, at the end, praised our craftiness and defending from the front, the rarely noticed and not highly acclaimed art of putting yerselves in relevant positions. This was important against a team who continually play out from the back in triangles, oblongs, circles and rarely a straight line.
Mark Mills returned to something like form with some good passes and nicely flighted corners, one of which led to our first goal, butted in by birthday boy, c'est moi- 62 the day before. Al aalways get a few in the air divvint ye fret hinny! The game wore on with a 1-0 lead looking rarely enough, till a nice wee break saw a penetrating through ball from geriatric boy swallowed up by Richard, who galloped from the half way line to net unerringly. I knew it was a good pass cos Bill praised it- yes you did, I heard you.
Nick making his proper debut interested watchers by a succession of fouls (was it 7 or 8) but, hey, he was competing for the ball.
Mention must be made for Steve's visionary 40 yard diagonal ball into the area where my lovely firm header was fucking wide. Really disappointing that cos I'd read the intent and could visualisethe glory as I modestly discussed matters in the Station afterwards. I missed another headed chance from a lovely Mills' corner later. Still it was nice to get a game and compete.
Rip Van Winkle turned down a definite penalty earlier, when M. Boyle was upended from behind, but at least that spared us the embarrassing sight of Dteve and Martin fighting over the ensuing spot kick. Brendan played well, Peter did well until he visibly tired, Andy did well replacing his brother, so much so that folk said they couldn't tell the difference between them. Andrew's the strong, silent one!
We adjourned to the bar, where chaps were struck by the personality of the barmaid so much so that they were willing to wait ages at the bar for a gargle just admiring her- "style". The sandwiches weren't bad either.
An extended session back at the Station, where a few old men chewed the fat and smoked pipes of peace, figuratively, ended for me at 4 pm when I change into a pumpkin- or is that a punchbag if a cum yem pissed. Johnny Boyle was left alone to hold the fort and a final glass of lager. A wonder if he's yem yet.
Next week a league game v Datchworth at the postage stamp Woolmer Green pitch, followed by drinks at Datchworth sports club. 1.30 kick off. Howay the lads. Oh divvint mention them lads they're friggin useless. Big Sam- Big Nancy Boy.

"Older dan dem der hills" Ron- yet I feel remarquably fresh this morning. Watch out!