retired_charlene

English Second Division vs Blackpool (a)

After a few matches against the more fancied teams in the division, we headed north to visit Blackpool for another tough match. We were happily able to name an unchanged line-up for this match, which had seemed unlikely after Scott Marshall picked up a toe injury in training. Fortunately he passed a late fitness test, and with a lack of cover at the back, that was a good thing.

Mick had told us to try and attack from the off, but it was Blackpool who looked the more likely in the first half hour of the match. Not that their good start was due to their good play though, with Marshall making a few mistakes at the back, once to let John Hills in whose shot went just wide, and later he misread a pass from Philippe Christanval which gave Ben Thornley a clear run on goal. Fortunately, his shot was woeful, and barely troubled the people in the stand behind the goal.

However, after the half hour mark we seemed to find our passing game, and everything started to click. One-twos were finding their men, through balls weren’t going wastefully to the keeper or out for a goal kick, and our general play was much better. A long, diagonal ball from Michael Dobson so nearly created us a goal from nothing as the Blackpool keeper Phil Barnes raced out of his area to head the ball clear before Kevin O’Connor could get to the ball. But Barnes’ header went straight towards me, and after a quick look up I hit the ball, attempting to hit the back of the net of the unguarded net. Unfortunately, I hit some bloke in Row C, as my shot didn’t quite dip enough, and sailed over the crossbar.

But we did find the back of the net before the half was out. Jamie Fullarton won the ball in midfield, as he had done all match, and played a wonderful ball through the heart of the Blackpool defence towards the onrushing O’Connor. Again, Barnes raced out to close him down, but O’Connor beat him to it, and slid the ball past the keeper and into the back of the net.

The second half wasn’t really dominated by either team. Instead, the referee had the largest impact on the second period, and ultimately decided the fate of the match. Just fifteen seconds after the restart, Richie Wellens slid right through the back of me, and was booked for it, which was some consolation for the nasty pain going down the back of my calf. And a few minutes later I got some more consolation when I ‘accidentally’ ran right into him, knocking him off the ball. I too got a yellow card for my troubles.

But the biggest incident happened a few minutes later. Martin Bullock, the Blackpool skipper, brought Martin Rowlands down in the centre circle. True to form, the referee produced a yellow card, but Wellens, who was nowhere near the ball when the foul was committed, wasn’t happy. He proceeded to argue with the ref, and found himself shown a second yellow card, and Blackpool were down to ten men. And that wasn’t the end of it. Bullock was now incensed by the double whammy of his yellow and Wellens’ red, and was furious with the ref. Unsurprisingly, he too was shown a second yellow card, and he walked down the tunnel with Wellens, leaving Blackpool with just nine men.

They now had no chance of getting anything from the match. With both their central midfielders sent off, they had to sacrifice their strikers, and a bad situation became a near hopeless one. We could have scored a couple more had we taken advantage of a few two against one situations, but Leon Constantine didn’t have his shooting boots on. Luckily, Gary Naysmith did. He ran into the area from the left hand side and shot low towards the near post after playing a quick one-two with me just inside the area. Barnes managed to get a hand on it, but he only managed to knock it straight back to Naysmith, who drilled it towards the far post for his first goal for Brentford with just four minutes remaining.

A two-nil final score didn’t really tell the story of the game in the end. After the sending offs, we were all over them, and we didn’t give them the faintest whiff of a hope they could claim a point. We could have scored more, and I certainly could have got off the mark, but in the end it doesn’t matter how you get the three points, although should goal difference become a factor at the end of the season, this could be an opportunity missed.

Final Score:- Blackpool 0-2 Brentford
Team:- (3-5-2) Smith 8; Roget 7, Christanval 8, Marshall 8; Naysmith 8(1), Hutchinson 6, Fullarton 8, Rowlands (c) 8, Greenan 8; Constantine 7, O'Connor 8(1).

retired_katsimmons

This is excellent Nick, keep it up.

retired_charlene

World Cup Final, England vs Brazil

This was it, the big one. We had a full strength lineup to pick from after Steven Gerrard had missed the semi, and we were going to need it. The Brazilians were playing magical football, and had breezed past Argentina and Spain on their way to the final, while we had full-scale battles against Turkey and Sweden, eventually beating the Swedes in that nervy penalty shootout.

Although we were the clear underdogs, we still believed that we could win it. Beckham had been performing wonders down the right, and Owen was firing on all cylinders. In fact, the only player who had scored more than him in the tournament was Ronaldo, the player we’d have to work so hard to silence.

The game started well, with Gerrard and Scholes dominating the central midfield, barely giving Gilberto Silva and Vampeta a chance to create anything for the Three R’s up front – Ronaldo, Rivaldo and Ronaldinho. Unfortunately the fourth R – Roberto Carlos – was keeping Beckham quiet, his pace getting him out of trouble and pretty much stopping the skipper from getting any of his trademark crosses into the area. Instead, we attacked mainly down the left. Ashley Cole was doubling up well with Sinclair, and Cafu was having his work cut out to try and stop the pair of them.

And with half an hour of the match gone, he finally failed. Sinclair ran at him, forcing him back towards the corner of the area before playing the ball ahead of the overlapping Cole, whose pinpoint cross was met by Owen, who headed powerfully pass Marcos. We were one-nil up, and the crowd were loving it. But we knew they still had plenty in the tank, and it was only a matter of time before they back at us. We just had to be ready for it.

It all kicked off in the second half. A switch from their 3-5-2 to an attacking 4-4-2 seemed to gain them control of the midfield, and thus opened their supply line to the forwards. Soon after that Ronaldo was all over our defence like a rash. Campbell had kept him pretty quiet up until then, but he was starting to give him real problems, which culminated in a real chance for the Brazilian striker, who would surely have scored had it not been for an excellent tackle from Gary Neville.

However, while our attentions were being kept busy by Ronaldo, Rivaldo silently started to weave his magic. With just ten minutes to go he linked up with Ronaldinho near the edge of the area, played a quick one-two before pulling the ball back to the lurking Ronaldo, who hit the back of the net for the seventh time in the tournament. We were shattered. After all, we were just ten minutes from the trophy, and now extra time was on the cards.

Or it would have been had it not been for another piece of Rivaldo magic. He picked up the ball in his own half, before racing forward, running directly at the heart of our defence. He skipped past Ferdinand, and just as Campbell was about to dispossess him, he threaded a beautiful ball through to Ronaldinho. He took the ball into area, rounded Seaman, rolled the ball into the net, and won the World Cup for Brazil.

“Oh for GOD’S SAKE!” I threw the controller towards the screen. Joe hadn’t stopped laughing yet, and from the look of him, he wasn’t going to for some time. “You always do that!”

“Yeah, well you always bring your keeper racing out like that, don’t ya? Talk about making it easy for me...”

“OK, best five out of nine?”

“Nah, I’ve got stuff to do. Besides, beating you is like taking candy from a particularly stupid baby. Who’s probably blind too...”

“OK then, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah, later.”

I started the game up again. He wasn’t going to do that to me again, that’s for sure...

retired_charlene

“Fifteen hundred pounds?! That's a pathetic amount! You could raise more money by auctioning dogs! Is that worth six months of your time?”

“Well, I think it is.”

“Well, I don't think it is at all! I think the only reason you've done it is to make yourself look important! How dare you come on this programme and say 'Hey look at me, I'm raising fifteen hundred pounds for the homeless'! You could make more money sitting outside a tube station with your hat on the ground even if you were twice as ugly as you are, which is very ugly indeed!”

I laughed. I’d seen it a hundred times, but it still cracked me up.

“Are you going to sit there all day watching that thing?” Mum asked

“...Maybe.”

“Why don’t you go and do something constructive with the rest of the day? Go and do something with one of your friends.”

“Joe came round earlier. Didn’t you notice?”

“Don’t talk to me like that. And of course I noticed, what do think I am? Deaf?”

“People as old as you usually are, aren’t they?”

“Sorry? What was that? You’ll have to speak up.” That was poor, even by her standards. “Anyway, you’ve got other friends, haven’t you? What about Beth? I haven’t seen her round here for ages...”

“That’s because she hasn’t been round here for ages, or are you going blind too?”

“Oh very good. Anyway, why hasn’t she been here then?”

“She’s been too busy with James to bother with anyone else.”

“James?” she said, confused.

“Her new boyfriend...”

“Oh, she got herself a boyfriend then? I always assumed that you two would get together...”

“Mum!”

“What? I was just saying...”

“Well don’t. What do you...? Why should I...? ...Shut up!”

“OK then, I know when I’m not wanted...” she said, going into the kitchen in a huff.

“...And in a statement issued just ten minutes ago the Home Secretary announced that he personally will be going into the tunnels this weekend, armed with a special gun...”

retired_mellnet

This is the good stuff...


mao

retired_charlene

English Second Division vs Wrexham (h)

Our next challenge would be against Wrexham, who had been promoted back to the Second Division after a one year spell in the Third. Since they had retained a good majority of the squad that played in the Second Division a couple of seasons ago, they looked well equipped to survive this time in this division. They, like us, could also boast a former Premiership player in their ranks in the form of Darren Ferguson, formerly of Manchester United, and son of Sir Alex.

However, he couldn’t save them from going one down within twenty minutes. Jamie Fullarton made a strong run down the left, and crossed left-footed into the centre. Wayne Henderson came out to collect the ball, but completely misread the flight of the ball, leaving Gary Naysmith with a simple header for his second in as many games.

The rest of the first half passed relatively uneventfully, with a few long range shots from me and Martin Rowlands either off target or easily held, and I had a free kick comfortably held from about 25 yards.

The pace soon picked up after the break though, as Kevin O’Connor made a good run down the right wing, and had Leon Constantine and myself to aim for. Noticing there were quite a few defenders heading towards their own goal, I checked my run, and hung back towards the edge of the area. O’Connor saw me, rolled the ball into my feet, and after a nice first touch, I hit the ball towards the far post. It sailed past the goalkeeper’s right hand, and inside the post, and I had my first goal in professional football. I didn’t really know what to do, and as soon as I decided to run off towards the fans in the corner, a flying Martin Rowlands practically rugby tackled me to the ground, before screaming "YESSSSSSSSSS!" into my ear. He seemed to be more excited that I was, and that was saying something.

Suddenly it felt different when I was on the ball. I had a new wave of confidence every time I touched the ball, which was perfectly summed up a few minutes later. I got the ball forty yards out, and looked up to see O’Connor and Constantine well marked. So I took one touch, and smashed it towards the top corner. The keeper didn’t even bother moving. Whether he knew that it was going over was anyone’s guess, but I wasn’t certain until it went inches past the angle.

And a couple of minutes later we were three up. Smith knocked a long ball upfield, and Constantine flicked the ball towards me as I raced towards the left hand side of the area. I looked up, saw O’Connor, and after he had given me my goal, I gave him a goal as I rolled it across to him near the penalty spot, and he made no mistake with the finish.

It was nearly four shortly after. Rowlands, obviously inspired by my earlier long range crack, hit the ball from a similar range towards goal. He too beat the keeper, but didn’t manage to beat the frame of the goal, as it rattled the crossbar and bounced out again. With a bit of luck it would have fallen to me, but instead it fell to Daniel Bennett, who hoofed it down the pitch.

The rest of the match was fairly sterile. We knew we’d won, they knew they’d lost, and no-one seemed to be bothered about adding to the three-nil scoreline, which was the final result. For just over an hour of the match we completely outplayed them, and created numerous chances that could have made an already convincing scoreline into a thrashing. They never threatened to put the ball in our half, let alone the goal, and that made things a lot easier for us. In the end I was probably the happiest of all the players after my goal, but I knew there would be better days ahead, hopefully sooner rather than later...

Final Score:- Brentford 3-0 Wrexham
Team:- (3-5-2) Smith 7; Roget 8, Christanval 8, Marshall 8; Naysmith 8(1), Hutchinson 8, Fullarton 8, Rowlands (c) 8, Greenan 8(1); Constantine 8, O'Connor 8(1).

After the opening five games of the season, we were well placed in the table.

<pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> P GD Pts1 Notts Co 5 +8 132 Sheff Wed 5 +7 13-----------------------------------3 Brentford 5 +6 114 Bristol C 5 +6 115 Brighton 5 +5 116 Luton 5 0 10-----------------------------------7 Tranmere 5 +4 98 Swindon 5 0 99 Hartlepool 5 +2 710 QPR 5 +2 7</pre>

retired_train2paris

updates :/

This is too good to just disappear off the boards.

retired_sethy

great story, i only just tuned in, but please give us an update...!

retired_charlene

Yep, a major 'sorry mum' is due here about the lack of updates. it's not that there aren't any, it's just getting them on here with is being a pain, wiht the internet cafe I've been using for the last few months determined to stop any attempts I'm making to get anything off of my floppy disc, and onto the board. I'm still trying, so I may get something up today, but otherwise it'll be midweek. Again, sorry sorry sorry sorry (repeat to fade...)

retired_charlene

Aha! They should know you can never keep a good man down, or even a remotely alrightish one for that matter...

---------------------------------------------------------

"Nick!" Mick bellowed. After a hard day of training, a meeting with the boss was exactly what I didn't need, especially when I had no idea what the hell was going on.

"Er, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes Nick. I've got some...news for you." It wasn't sounding good.

"...Yeah?"

Mick picked up on my worried expression, and decided to put me out of my misery.

"Oh, it's nothing bad! No, no, you've won the Player of the Month Award!"

"You what?"

"The Second Division Player of the Month award. You've won it!"

I was stunned. Not just about getting the award, but the fact it wasn't the young player award, and was the full one instead.

"That's...great."

"Of course it is. You'll be presented with the trophy or whatever before the Peterborough match, and there's a guy from the Informer who's come to take a few snaps for the paper."

"Triffic."

Great, I thought, a photographer. Cameras went about as well with me as fish do with blenders. I hated them, and, given the evidence they'd provided over the years, they hated me. School photos were always an embarrassment. I was always the one who'd look the wrong way in the group pictures at the last minute, and give a good shot of my ear when everyone else had a beaming smile to the camera, and my photos were even worse. If my hair wasn't in a state, and I managed not to pull a stupid smile, then I'd probably look like I'd fallen asleep. Or possibly all three...


"So, to sum up, what do you think about getting the award?"

"Erm...it's great."

"...Just great?" I could tell he wanted a bit more, as he did with every single answer I'd given. Not that I'd obliged with a proper answer half the time though."

"Yeah, great."

He sighed, and stood up.

"Take a few pictures now, OK?" He handed me a half-empty bottle of wine and a little plaque.

"What're these for?"

"Oh, you're gonna hold them. The plaque thing represents the award."

"Yeah, but it doesn't represent my award. It represents Ali Khalifa coming third in the Inter-Borough Snooker Championships."

"But they won't know in the pictures..."

"And what about the snooker player on top?"

"...They'll assume it's a footballer. Probably won't even look. Now stand up and hold them...that's it, now nice smile...that's good, hold that...OK, and another...great."

"So when's that gonna be in the paper?"

"Well, I didn't bother bringing my flash, so in this light the pictures might not come out, and," he said, looking at his notes from the interview, "we have got some really good stories at the moment, so don't be disappointed if it's not there. Yeah, probably won't use it now. Cheers anyway though..."