Joe
I’ve been counting down for a while now. Well, within the numbers I know, anyway. And today’s my birthday and I think I’m gonna get lots of presents. And cake. And best of all, I’m going to lead the GPSFA team out in today’s game against Wokingham. At Longlevens. At The Home of Football.
I’m at the front of the line in my black & yellow shirt and Big Sam’s right behind me. And the First Knight, who usually leads the team out is still the First Knight but he’s back in third. At least the man standing on the chair with the nice camera won’t pick out those red ballet shoes like he normally does. And my boots are far better. Look at my boots, everybody.
Right, here we are, ready to toss the coin. Wow, that walk out was something else – all those paparazzi wanting a bit of the action. The big one telling me to look at him seemed a bit familiar, but to be honest, they all blurred into one. Okay, ref. Toss that coin. Tails, please. Tails it is. Never fails. That’s the first time the team’s won the toss all season. Says something, really. We’ll defend the Windermere Road end, thank-you very much. Okay everyone, let’s go!
Five minutes gone, we’re one down and under the cosh. I’ve made a list of things that need to improve and have passed it to the YB standing by the bench.
Fifteen minutes gone and no improvement, but I’ve worked out why - I gave the list to the wrong person. All sorted though, the OB’s got it now and things are starting to improve. We’ve had a few shots and the big bloke in their goal has just made a good save from our centre forward.
Half time and no-one’s offered me a Jaffa cake. Or a jelly baby. The orange ones are my favourites. I eat them in threes – bite off the head, chew on the legs, then eat the torso, offal and all. Yummy. Never mind, someone’s just given me one of those fab GPSFA chocolate birthday cakes that Grandma Sargeant made the other day. Hmmm. You can keep your jaffas and your offal jellies, these cakes are the bees.
I can’t believe it. I leave the game for a ten-minute feast, get back to the touchline and we’re two-nil down. Where’s that pen? Has anyone got some paper? Thanks. Right, here goes.
Quarter of an hour left. I’ve passed the YB one list (it’s not the right one, but he thinks it is) and the OB the correct list, regarding what to do during the last part of the game and it’s working. The blue team are making a few mistakes (not many, mind you) and our heroic players are starting to pass the ball to each other better than they did before. I even gave some advice to our goalkeeper who took it straight away and made a good save. Hey, Jude, you didn’t let me down.
What a blow – and it’s the last one. The ref’s blown the final whistle and just as the Master Plan was kicking in, the game’s over. Hey, coach, keep those instructions I gave you and use them next time. If you want the team to win, that is.
It’s three o’clock in the afternoon and the party’s in full swing, but I’m sitting in a corner making copious notes in the new exercise book my granddad gave me earlier. It’s got ‘Little Joe’ on the front and a picture of a cowboy, but that’s beside the point. Big Sam’s got a book too. It’s got a bright red cover and it’s called ‘Leading from the Front’. He’s been reading chapter one to me and talking about tactics and formations, sports science, mental toughness and why bananas are good for your sporting constitution. He thinks he’s going to manage England one day, but he won’t last. People called Big Sam never do.
Good. No-one saw me slip away to phone that nice man who was standing on the chair earlier. And he says, ‘No problem, I’ll send it over.’
I’ve been counting down for a while now. Well, within the numbers I know, anyway. And everyone thought that when I was doing this, I was counting down to my birthday, but I wasn’t. Only three more days to go and the great moment will be here. Big Sam’s going off to an island somewhere and for fifty six glorious hours, I’m gonna be the Main Man in this house. Never mind Big Sam, here comes Big Joe with his big red book. And on the front there’s a picture of me in my black & yellow shirt and my non-ballet boots. And even though most people would say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, that’s not the case on this occasion.
Because it really is me. With my Big Hair and my Big Brother and my Big Smile. And on the cover of my Big Red Book, I really am Leading from the Front.
Gloucester: Franks; Michael Fish, Pargeter, Big Sam; Mustoe, Nureyev, First Knight, Scarface; Mitchell. Mascot: Big Joe. Attendance: 73
I’m at the front of the line in my black & yellow shirt and Big Sam’s right behind me. And the First Knight, who usually leads the team out is still the First Knight but he’s back in third. At least the man standing on the chair with the nice camera won’t pick out those red ballet shoes like he normally does. And my boots are far better. Look at my boots, everybody.
Right, here we are, ready to toss the coin. Wow, that walk out was something else – all those paparazzi wanting a bit of the action. The big one telling me to look at him seemed a bit familiar, but to be honest, they all blurred into one. Okay, ref. Toss that coin. Tails, please. Tails it is. Never fails. That’s the first time the team’s won the toss all season. Says something, really. We’ll defend the Windermere Road end, thank-you very much. Okay everyone, let’s go!
Five minutes gone, we’re one down and under the cosh. I’ve made a list of things that need to improve and have passed it to the YB standing by the bench.
Fifteen minutes gone and no improvement, but I’ve worked out why - I gave the list to the wrong person. All sorted though, the OB’s got it now and things are starting to improve. We’ve had a few shots and the big bloke in their goal has just made a good save from our centre forward.
Half time and no-one’s offered me a Jaffa cake. Or a jelly baby. The orange ones are my favourites. I eat them in threes – bite off the head, chew on the legs, then eat the torso, offal and all. Yummy. Never mind, someone’s just given me one of those fab GPSFA chocolate birthday cakes that Grandma Sargeant made the other day. Hmmm. You can keep your jaffas and your offal jellies, these cakes are the bees.
I can’t believe it. I leave the game for a ten-minute feast, get back to the touchline and we’re two-nil down. Where’s that pen? Has anyone got some paper? Thanks. Right, here goes.
Quarter of an hour left. I’ve passed the YB one list (it’s not the right one, but he thinks it is) and the OB the correct list, regarding what to do during the last part of the game and it’s working. The blue team are making a few mistakes (not many, mind you) and our heroic players are starting to pass the ball to each other better than they did before. I even gave some advice to our goalkeeper who took it straight away and made a good save. Hey, Jude, you didn’t let me down.
What a blow – and it’s the last one. The ref’s blown the final whistle and just as the Master Plan was kicking in, the game’s over. Hey, coach, keep those instructions I gave you and use them next time. If you want the team to win, that is.
It’s three o’clock in the afternoon and the party’s in full swing, but I’m sitting in a corner making copious notes in the new exercise book my granddad gave me earlier. It’s got ‘Little Joe’ on the front and a picture of a cowboy, but that’s beside the point. Big Sam’s got a book too. It’s got a bright red cover and it’s called ‘Leading from the Front’. He’s been reading chapter one to me and talking about tactics and formations, sports science, mental toughness and why bananas are good for your sporting constitution. He thinks he’s going to manage England one day, but he won’t last. People called Big Sam never do.
Good. No-one saw me slip away to phone that nice man who was standing on the chair earlier. And he says, ‘No problem, I’ll send it over.’
I’ve been counting down for a while now. Well, within the numbers I know, anyway. And everyone thought that when I was doing this, I was counting down to my birthday, but I wasn’t. Only three more days to go and the great moment will be here. Big Sam’s going off to an island somewhere and for fifty six glorious hours, I’m gonna be the Main Man in this house. Never mind Big Sam, here comes Big Joe with his big red book. And on the front there’s a picture of me in my black & yellow shirt and my non-ballet boots. And even though most people would say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, that’s not the case on this occasion.
Because it really is me. With my Big Hair and my Big Brother and my Big Smile. And on the cover of my Big Red Book, I really am Leading from the Front.
Gloucester: Franks; Michael Fish, Pargeter, Big Sam; Mustoe, Nureyev, First Knight, Scarface; Mitchell. Mascot: Big Joe. Attendance: 73
