Knobs 2 Ashwell 2

It was hot, it was hard, breezy and bumpy. The heat played havoc with brain and feet. Yet a game was played for all that.
Struggled to get a team out but with the help of father and son combo, the Martins, we managed 11.
An eternity seemed spent erecting posts and nets due to torpor and a dearth of those little white things. We eventually kicked off uphill around 11. We dominated the first half and when we could get the darned ball under control some actual football was in danger of being played.
Some lovely crosses were unconverted but a lead was established when Ron for once passed a long square ball to the left to Phil. He neatly turned inside the defender and smashed home in a blur.
Another pleasing move was converted from close range by Tom, 2-0. Gavin, in between goals was butchered to the floor as he hurtled in on goal. No penalty, well everyone else knew it was but the returning Martin in a valiant attempt at self beatitude persuaded referee Alistair it was outside the area. The free kick awarded, barely better than a corner, was poor reward. I suppose we thought it wouldn't matter in the long run. They rarely threatened in the first half apart from a piece of eccentricity from keeper Paul, receiving a goal kick from full back Bill out on the left touchline! Don't ask!
Half time 2-0.
We abandoned our footballing togetherness in the second half, concentrating on long killer balls and the pace of Gavin to little effect. Gavin did hit bar and post. Certainly tiredness played a huge part, with many players turning out today for a very rare game, Bill (first game of the season), Mark, Ron, Phil, Martin and even Tom not regularly used to donning the black. They were somewhat more energetic than us but hardly better. They pulled a goal back from a low poke toward goal where Paul, Gomez like, allowed the ball to trickle through his legs. This time the ball definitely crossed the line. They later equalised, did Brendan contribute? Canna remember. In the last 10 minutes they looked the only winners but time caught up with us all.
Bill had a fine game at left back, intercepting well, playing astute passes and, in the first half, proving highly effective with his throw-ins.
It was off to that fine theatre of drink the British Legion in which we were pleasantly surprised by the cordial welcome. There were people in there I thought had died! And Phil there wasn't an inbred in sight. All the opposition showed and a merry hour was spent watching Liverpool slaughter Newcastle. They have Sky. Who needs a Station? A fine assortment of sandwiches prepared and provided by Nicky Boyle went down well.
A word of thanks to Alistair for refereeing with his arm in plaster, courtesy of his fiddling in the mechanism of his car's automatic window. He really should try Jeff Jackson and save his savoir faire for the operating theatre. Hertfordshire is now an anaesthetist short in these austere times, but we have gained a ref.
I collapsed at home to nurse my broken rib and awakened to the glorious sight of our famed black kit drying in the breeze. All dried and ready for next week's home game v Walkern by 5pm. Thank you Maggie I didn't know you cared.