Time until the Next game at Benalmadena Polideportivo
Fast Game report by Rory
After a summer break of rule free football on a pitch marginally tighter than a duck’s arse, the full Monty returned to the expansive plains of the Poli, with a large number of elderly gentleman being forced to choose between the F,S, or E game. Well not even Alan Turing and his renowned Enigma code breakers could work that one out, so as usual it ended up in a random selection of players who didn’t have a clue why they were playing in either game. Asi es La vida.
In the F game (formerly known as Fast – get it?) the reds were led by Kevo. The team comprised some handy ball players (but ‘nuff said about that already). Dave the cab took mercy on the opposition by starting in goal thereby ensuring that the first foul didn’t happen until after the first water break. Big Nigel played target man – a rare sight in modern day soccerball – and was well backed up by Kevin, and industrious Prac. Meanwhile, three-chord Rick was doing a fine impersonation of a flying Alexander-Arnold and inverting himself into an attacking midfielder.
Dave (the Apis) was upfront for the blacks who kicked off with 80s disco king Al drifting down the left. Total football Han was attacking midfield with Steve barking instructions from his kennel at the back. Dazza, was Dazza, proving it is nigh on impossible to transition from Gaelic football to soccer ball, unless you allow shots flying high and wide to count as a goal. Rory started off deep so that he could respond quickly to Steve’s many instructions, although at halftime he had to disentangle his feet and screw his head on the right way round.
As usual the guys started off shadow boxing, with a few punches being thrown, but none landing. The pace was fierce and would take its toll towards the end of the game. Kevin (not Kevo) started tentatively as he gradually found his two left feet. The first session ended goalless, with the boys appreciating the cooler September temperatures (NOT!).
Things started to hot up in the second session when Dave the Cab stepped out of goal and committed the first foul of the game. It was classic Emlyn Hughes. Total football Han was beginning to get a grip of midfield, and gradually the chances flowed. Following a neat interchange with Alan, total football Han trundled in on goal before slotting the ball beautifully into the bottom corner. Blacks 1-0 Reds.
By this time, Kevin was beginning to find his feet (he’d left the right one in his bag), and working with Prac, started to open up the blacks right flank. Meanwhile Dave had stealthily made his way forward and skilfully got away from Alan, who was still dreaming about (we all hate) Leeds scraping into the playoffs. Having nicked the ball off the somnambulant Alan, Dave sold the keeper a brilliant dummy (€2.50 from the market) before drilling the ball into the empty net. Blacks 1-1 Reds.
The increasingly confident reds began to dominate play, with Nigel providing a good outlet upfront, and laying the ball off well to his dynamic midfielders. The blacks were struggling as the newly energised Kevin (not Kevo) burst through on the left and scored a beauty. Blacks 1-2 Reds.
Dazza was firing in a number of shots which almost certainly would have won a game of Gaelic football, but sadly in the real world, they were only useful for keeping the “ball boys”off their backsides. However, the Reds continued to find the gaps as the blacks tired. With Rory in goal the sea parted to allow Kevo to glide silently through on his freshly oiled hover board. With the goal at his mercy the big man bent the ball round the wrong footed keeper to deservedly extend the reds’ lead. Blacks 1-3 Reds
Things were beginning to unravel badly for the blacks when Kevin (not Kevo) once again found himself in space near goal following some great approach work from Dave and Prac. Realising he had more time than it takes to co-ordinate his police notebook with a similarly dodgy colleague, his trusty left peg once again found the back of the net, to give the blacks what seemed like an unassailable lead. Blacks 1-4 Reds
The blacks were thrown a lifeline when Rick’s worn break pads failed to prevent him from stumbling into the box and giving away a penalty. Rory stepped up to smash the ball goal bound, in what was probably one of the best penalties ever seen at the Poli. Remarkably, Kevo unveiled an amazing kung-fu forearm smash (last seen being deployed by Bruce Lee in Enter the Dragon), and the ball was sent round the post for a corner.
Although disappointed, the blacks were galvanised and sent Dave into a more advanced role, with Steve keeping things tight at the back. Up front, the pollinating aphis repaid this change in tactics with a couple of brilliantly taken strikes to stun the reds who suddenly lost to ability to pass the ball to someone in a red shirt. With the clock ticking down, total football Han dribbled forward and sucked Dave into an attempted challenge while releasing Rory in on goal. Just as the P in Pheep! was sounding Rory banged the ball past Kevo to give the blacks an undeserved equaliser. Blacks 4-4 Reds
Well played everyone. A good fast competitive game played in a great spirit.
Slow Game report by Steve
Returning to the Polideportivo after the summer break on a sunny and balmy 34° C day, it was good to see all the old faces including some new faces, even though they are also old 😉
Black team were Dave the Owl, Keef, Pete Fish, Colin (new), Klaus the Wandering European, Sonic the Geoff and Superstar Ken. Red team were Dave the Fox, Steve/Ryan Reynolds, Graham (new), Maurice & Bambi, Graham (old!), Doug (new) and Stephen Mc (this reporter).
Colin (new) and Graham (new) were newcomers and Doug was back after an extended absence. Interestingly, after the game, all three were mostly concerned about which emoji they might receive from Keef and the Initiation Committee. Please send your suggestions for a suitable emoji and hazing ritual for each of them. And please don’t forget the new hazing rules: machetes, fireworks and/or animals are now BANNED. Things got out of hand last time.
There’s some confusion over the goal scorers and the final score. The Black team assumed they won 4-2 with goals from Sonic the Geoff (as mentioned below), Dave the Owl and Ken (2 goals). Actually, the Red team won 5-4 because this writer was playing on the red team and, as we all know, “whoever controls the media, controls the mind.” So, well done Reds! (Give yourself an honorary goal if you know who said that without looking up on the interwebs!)
Anyway, onto the game. It was an enjoyable social gathering of a bunch of unfit choppers (who should know better than to run around in southern Spain in the middle of the day in September) but there were no memorable football moments to report. In fact, this reporter might even venture to say the standard of skill on display could barely be considered to be “football”. This reporter best describes it as a “mad-dogs-and-idiots-chasing-a-bag-of-wind-in-the-midday-sun”. Even though Rory was playing in the other game, we still heard the obligatory “Connemargate 42, Rosskeith 29” echoing around the ground every time the ball was hoofed 20 metres over the crossbar. (Editors note: Irish geography isn’t a strong subject!)
Sonic the Geoff brought along his grandson, Henry, and wouldn’t you know it, Sonic scored! Good times. Henry was also able to give Frank a run for his money by collecting the missed shots on goals. He was very, very busy. At one point early in the second quarter, after retrieving 27 missed shots in just under 11 minutes of play, Henry was heard to mutter “Why don’t you old farts shoot at the goal instead of the f%$king corner flags?” to which Sonic the Geoff shouted “Henry, stop f%$king swearing!”
That’s all I can remember from the game and we retired to the bar. Various bets were placed as to how many players would wake up injured on the following morning. My best estimate is 13 of the 15 players, myself included. The other two are 1) Keef because he’s never injured, and 2) Geoff the Commander because he wasn’t there.
Of course, there was the obligatory question from the new guys Colin and Graham, “why do you call it ‘walking’ football?” We laughed, we groaned, we drank some beer.
Over and out!