An Absolute Saint
It’s a long old trek to Stevenage, but exactly thirteen hours and one minute before we depart, AA arrives at Oxstalls for a training session that lasts precisely 57 seconds for him and 59 minutes 57 seconds for everyone else. It’s a productive 59 minutes 57 seconds for the ‘everyone else’ section though as we work hard on multiple facets of defending, while AA himself works hard on his first touch as it’s the only one he gets.
With Croose and Simpson having previously taken the only two ‘Awayday Late Arrival’ wooden spoons in the GPSFA kitchen, this week it’s Hine, who has to make do with the wooden spatula for not only arriving last, but for also being the group’s only player to have forgotten his brand new showerproof, despite the weather being inclement at best.
Greggs again proves to be a popular breakfast location once we reach Beaconsfield, the largest (by area) service station in the country, particularly as at this rather up-market venue, the sky blue sign is actually, for a change, inside the building. England v the All Blacks is showing on the big screen, which helps make for a leisurely hour or so for nine contented people sitting around a crumb-laden table somewhere in Buckinghamshire.
The M25 is pretty clear, though the same cannot be said for the atmosphere inside the bus, with Croose and Simpson repeatedly blamed by the other seven occupants, presumably as an ‘attack is the best form of defence’ strategy that passes the attention on to someone else. Coach Wilson, having seen it, heard it and smelt it all before, rolls his eyes, opens the passenger window and turns his attention back to 12 across (2, 8, 5) on The Times 2 crossword. Behind him, as Rickmansworth disappears in the rear-view mirror, there’s a hint of romanticism in the air as a tuneless, ‘Charlie loves Ruby’ blares out from the various pews, followed by suggestions of various other nefarious relationships involving most of the remaining people in the team.
We arrive at Valley Gardens dead on cue, presumably because AA isn’t with us. The bus needs re-parking though as almost all the available spaces have six inches of water in them, which probably explains while they’re available. There’s not much of a valley and certainly no gardens at SG2, but the pitches just down from the multi-use building with the 1960’s purple fascia boards are as immaculate as you could expect to find anywhere.
Brockbank takes charge of transporting the kit bag from the bus to the changing room, but once inside the building has second thoughts when realising that the final lap includes two flights of pretty steep stairs and dumps the big black holdall in the nearest alcove.
Coach Wilson clarifies the starting positions and names Bevan as substitute despite us having only the bare nine bodies (no pun intended), just to see how the player will react. He doesn’t, so CW slopes off in search of a rejuvenating coffee, while OB also slopes off, the downstairs toilet, if he can find it, his intended destination. Ansermoz is trying to wheedle his way back into the managers’ good books and has dispensed with his florescent greens in favour of his original jets, while Bennett has forsaken his Alan Ball Whites and, appropriately in a RWC year, joins the All Black Club, a manoeuvre which earns him a much-need brownie point. Croose too is making an effort and a good one at that, and even though his new foot protectors are actually dark blue, he receives his first agreeable nod after seven weeks of trying.
We’re quickly into our stride against a decent Stevenage outfit, looking to get Croose on the move as often as possible. When the striker’s upended on 14 minutes, Bennett’s free kick, with a bit of assistance from the home keeper, puts us ahead. There’s a sound of distant hollering then silence, before Croose has three further opportunities courtesy of Hine, Bevan and Milton to extend the advantage, but the keeper/post once and the side netting twice are the ball’s ultimate destinations. Bennett limps off for a few minutes with knock-knee to recover his composure after realising he’s now scored in three consecutive matches and Croose retreats to cover in the fabled ‘false nine’ position, which basically means he isn’t there.
The wind has changed as the second half begins and we’re pegged back by a Stevenage side determined to restore parity, though Orange Boots Brockbank, Pink Boots Simpson and Tortoise-Racing Beaumont remain steadfast in the defensive line that took 59 minutes and 57 seconds to sort out last night.
Bevan strikes just wide in a rare breakaway, but with the midfield four alongside the back three working hard to contain their Hertfordshire counterparts and Ansermoz making a fine save in between offering numerous hand gestures that are generally taken to mean, ‘Sorry for throwing/kicking the ball to the opposition’, wave after wave of red & white attacks are thwarted.
With ninety seconds remaining however, Stevenage win a penalty that Baldwin converts emphatically, though the late equaliser takes nothing away from nine fine individual performances and a committed and resilient backs-to-the-wall display of which everyone should be justly proud. Well done all.
Bevan and TRB are dressed way before anyone else and wait patiently for the slo-mo group to start taking their socks off, one toe at a time. There’s a good spread downstairs, featuring a wonderfully bespoke football cake baked specifically for the occasion, impressively decorated with pitch-green icing and meeting a very grateful recipient in Simpson. Ansermoz and Croose meanwhile munch on a succession of chicken bites while forlornly attempting to adjust ties that are struggling to cling on to the collars of their starch-white shirts.
Bennett attempts to scam £5 off Coach Wilson on the way out, by way of some nonsensical tale which contains more inconsistencies than Ansermoz’s distribution. He fails miserably and for good measure sees his name finding its way into what will become, over the ensuing months, quite an infamous little black book. With lots written in it. Bevan’s the polar opposite however as he’s consistently nice and would never entertain the idea of doing anything dodgy to anyone, and displays this attribute to perfection by heaving the kit bag on to his shoulder and carrying it across a mud-soaked rivulet on the way back to the fun bus.
The M25’s not as clear as the outward journey, though the atmosphere within and the half-open window remain consistent with the journey along the opposite carriageway a few hours earlier. Eventually we rack up at the Swindon Oasis, where the half-submerged car park suggests there’s more water out here than there is inside. The hole in the leisure centre roof attempts to redress the balance however and results in the viewing balcony remaining closed, meaning no reasons have to be invented for spending an hour and a quarter eating crisps, drinking coffee and completing the fiendish Sudoku (CW) in the Oasis cafe.
Milton is first out of the changing room and appears triumphant on entering the refreshment area, though most of his hastily thrown-on clothing comes under the general moniker of ‘unadjusted’. The usual suspects bring up the rear, meaning there’s a slight delay while CW raises then lowers his right eyebrow, before launching into menu options for the upcoming Isle of Wight trip. While ninety per cent opt for burger & chips on day one, Bennett chooses fish fingers, no doubt thinking they’re made from the IOW’s finest caviar. Disappointment on the cards there, then.
Just past The Highwayman, news filters through that Mother Bevan has for some mysterious reason agreed to Croose staying at Stearman Villas this evening for a sleep-over. There’s a stunned silence in the front of the bus as the reality of this most selfless of acts sinks in. The self-imposed reverie is broken as we turn left by the Air Balloon and Coach Wilson’s fist-punch and ‘Finally got it!’ punctuates the momentary calm. 12 across. 2, 8, 5. An Absolute Saint.
Gloucester A: Ansermoz; TRB, OBB, PBS; Milton, Bevan, Knock-Knee, Hine; Croose.
With Croose and Simpson having previously taken the only two ‘Awayday Late Arrival’ wooden spoons in the GPSFA kitchen, this week it’s Hine, who has to make do with the wooden spatula for not only arriving last, but for also being the group’s only player to have forgotten his brand new showerproof, despite the weather being inclement at best.
Greggs again proves to be a popular breakfast location once we reach Beaconsfield, the largest (by area) service station in the country, particularly as at this rather up-market venue, the sky blue sign is actually, for a change, inside the building. England v the All Blacks is showing on the big screen, which helps make for a leisurely hour or so for nine contented people sitting around a crumb-laden table somewhere in Buckinghamshire.
The M25 is pretty clear, though the same cannot be said for the atmosphere inside the bus, with Croose and Simpson repeatedly blamed by the other seven occupants, presumably as an ‘attack is the best form of defence’ strategy that passes the attention on to someone else. Coach Wilson, having seen it, heard it and smelt it all before, rolls his eyes, opens the passenger window and turns his attention back to 12 across (2, 8, 5) on The Times 2 crossword. Behind him, as Rickmansworth disappears in the rear-view mirror, there’s a hint of romanticism in the air as a tuneless, ‘Charlie loves Ruby’ blares out from the various pews, followed by suggestions of various other nefarious relationships involving most of the remaining people in the team.
We arrive at Valley Gardens dead on cue, presumably because AA isn’t with us. The bus needs re-parking though as almost all the available spaces have six inches of water in them, which probably explains while they’re available. There’s not much of a valley and certainly no gardens at SG2, but the pitches just down from the multi-use building with the 1960’s purple fascia boards are as immaculate as you could expect to find anywhere.
Brockbank takes charge of transporting the kit bag from the bus to the changing room, but once inside the building has second thoughts when realising that the final lap includes two flights of pretty steep stairs and dumps the big black holdall in the nearest alcove.
Coach Wilson clarifies the starting positions and names Bevan as substitute despite us having only the bare nine bodies (no pun intended), just to see how the player will react. He doesn’t, so CW slopes off in search of a rejuvenating coffee, while OB also slopes off, the downstairs toilet, if he can find it, his intended destination. Ansermoz is trying to wheedle his way back into the managers’ good books and has dispensed with his florescent greens in favour of his original jets, while Bennett has forsaken his Alan Ball Whites and, appropriately in a RWC year, joins the All Black Club, a manoeuvre which earns him a much-need brownie point. Croose too is making an effort and a good one at that, and even though his new foot protectors are actually dark blue, he receives his first agreeable nod after seven weeks of trying.
We’re quickly into our stride against a decent Stevenage outfit, looking to get Croose on the move as often as possible. When the striker’s upended on 14 minutes, Bennett’s free kick, with a bit of assistance from the home keeper, puts us ahead. There’s a sound of distant hollering then silence, before Croose has three further opportunities courtesy of Hine, Bevan and Milton to extend the advantage, but the keeper/post once and the side netting twice are the ball’s ultimate destinations. Bennett limps off for a few minutes with knock-knee to recover his composure after realising he’s now scored in three consecutive matches and Croose retreats to cover in the fabled ‘false nine’ position, which basically means he isn’t there.
The wind has changed as the second half begins and we’re pegged back by a Stevenage side determined to restore parity, though Orange Boots Brockbank, Pink Boots Simpson and Tortoise-Racing Beaumont remain steadfast in the defensive line that took 59 minutes and 57 seconds to sort out last night.
Bevan strikes just wide in a rare breakaway, but with the midfield four alongside the back three working hard to contain their Hertfordshire counterparts and Ansermoz making a fine save in between offering numerous hand gestures that are generally taken to mean, ‘Sorry for throwing/kicking the ball to the opposition’, wave after wave of red & white attacks are thwarted.
With ninety seconds remaining however, Stevenage win a penalty that Baldwin converts emphatically, though the late equaliser takes nothing away from nine fine individual performances and a committed and resilient backs-to-the-wall display of which everyone should be justly proud. Well done all.
Bevan and TRB are dressed way before anyone else and wait patiently for the slo-mo group to start taking their socks off, one toe at a time. There’s a good spread downstairs, featuring a wonderfully bespoke football cake baked specifically for the occasion, impressively decorated with pitch-green icing and meeting a very grateful recipient in Simpson. Ansermoz and Croose meanwhile munch on a succession of chicken bites while forlornly attempting to adjust ties that are struggling to cling on to the collars of their starch-white shirts.
Bennett attempts to scam £5 off Coach Wilson on the way out, by way of some nonsensical tale which contains more inconsistencies than Ansermoz’s distribution. He fails miserably and for good measure sees his name finding its way into what will become, over the ensuing months, quite an infamous little black book. With lots written in it. Bevan’s the polar opposite however as he’s consistently nice and would never entertain the idea of doing anything dodgy to anyone, and displays this attribute to perfection by heaving the kit bag on to his shoulder and carrying it across a mud-soaked rivulet on the way back to the fun bus.
The M25’s not as clear as the outward journey, though the atmosphere within and the half-open window remain consistent with the journey along the opposite carriageway a few hours earlier. Eventually we rack up at the Swindon Oasis, where the half-submerged car park suggests there’s more water out here than there is inside. The hole in the leisure centre roof attempts to redress the balance however and results in the viewing balcony remaining closed, meaning no reasons have to be invented for spending an hour and a quarter eating crisps, drinking coffee and completing the fiendish Sudoku (CW) in the Oasis cafe.
Milton is first out of the changing room and appears triumphant on entering the refreshment area, though most of his hastily thrown-on clothing comes under the general moniker of ‘unadjusted’. The usual suspects bring up the rear, meaning there’s a slight delay while CW raises then lowers his right eyebrow, before launching into menu options for the upcoming Isle of Wight trip. While ninety per cent opt for burger & chips on day one, Bennett chooses fish fingers, no doubt thinking they’re made from the IOW’s finest caviar. Disappointment on the cards there, then.
Just past The Highwayman, news filters through that Mother Bevan has for some mysterious reason agreed to Croose staying at Stearman Villas this evening for a sleep-over. There’s a stunned silence in the front of the bus as the reality of this most selfless of acts sinks in. The self-imposed reverie is broken as we turn left by the Air Balloon and Coach Wilson’s fist-punch and ‘Finally got it!’ punctuates the momentary calm. 12 across. 2, 8, 5. An Absolute Saint.
Gloucester A: Ansermoz; TRB, OBB, PBS; Milton, Bevan, Knock-Knee, Hine; Croose.
