The Listener
Things are a-changing. Croose arrives at the meet-point in fifth place and Simpson’s very much last. Nice Ollie Beaumont’s absent as he’s on a school jolly to Croatia where, much to his obvious excitement, the family he’s staying with has a pet tortoise. Simpson checks his misfiring watch for a third time, Croose wears a wry grin and a knowing nod, while one thousand two hundred miles away, Beaumont asks for a steward’s enquiry following the first race of what’s looking like being a very long day.
News has come through that the top pitch at Brockwood Farm Drive is waterlogged following the overnight rain and kick-off on the bottom ground won’t happen until after the girls’ game has finished. ‘Great,’ smiles Coach Wilson, as he contemplates the delights of an extended fry-up at his favourite services’ breakfast outlet, only to find that on arrival at Reading, ‘The Good Food Company’ has well and truly disappeared. ‘That’s the last time we’re coming here,’ he informs the team with a certainty that suggests that this might well be true, but nobody hears as by the time he finishes his prolonged diatribe, everyone’s in the shop stocking up with what are euphemistically termed ‘awayday essentials’.
The Photographer doesn’t like either parting with money or standing in queues, so both Costa outlets and the KFC counter are definite non-starters, but Croose takes pity and agrees to procure The Lens’s sausage roll from Greggs as he’s already in the line. Ten minutes later the sausage roll appears and, much to everyone’s surprise, Milton gets a 20p tip for delivering it. ‘But, but….’ stammers Croose, whose devious plan, whatever it was, has financially backfired, but the lament is a personal one as everybody else is on the ‘grabber’ machine around the corner. Nobody wins.
Woking are in a difficult position at the moment. In the summer, their long-serving secretary / organiser, Richard Jones passed away and Adam Gunn, who has built the association’s girls’ set-up into one of the strongest in the country over the past fourteen years, has taken over some very big shoes. The Woking girls’ team is drawn from a training group of over thirty players and continues to be a fine district side, but their boys’ group is starting again from scratch. The aim is to replicate the girls’ format over time; with this in mind, five new players joined the group this week and in a most noble ‘Welcome to Woking’ gesture, all are included in today’s line-up.
The pre-match warm-up is an interesting experience; one of the practice balls finishes up behind the far goal, even though no-one can kick it half that distance, while Simpson spends most of the ten minutes standing in a pool of rainwater, in a clear and obvious attempt to wash the hideous pink hue off his hideous pink boots. Strange times indeed.
In footballing terms, we have two teams at very different stages of their development, but the hosts battle well in the first half and the Gloucester lead is only 2-0 at the break. After the interval however, goals arrive at regular intervals, with the Elmbridge twins helping themselves to four apiece, while Ali’s cutback gives Bennett the opportunity to open his season’s account. All players perform well in the circumstances and we’re into the next round of the Shires with plenty to spare. Bevan however is the big plus in regard to individual displays; his improved positioning in the gap between Brockbank and Bennett – a scary thought if we’re honest – being the day’s biggest personal positive.
The post-match hospitality is great and much appreciated, Milton helping himself to a hefty starter as he keeps the main course at Membury in the forefront of his mind. Only one giant hot dog then. We encounter seven Woking parents in the hospitality area and all, despite the big defeat, are positive, encouraging and grateful. The Woking players follow suit in a great example of adult-child influence. Whatever else we do, we set the example. And they set an extremely good one.
Back in the car park and there are scratches on the side of the bus and a dent in the passenger door. Accusatory eyes are cast in the driver’s direction, but the marks were already there when we picked it up. Honest.
Half way up the M4 and a strange noise is emanating from the seat behind, a pew that’s inhabited by a very un-cricket-like MCC (Milton, Croose & Curtis). The high-pitched squeal is apparently an attempt at the Champions League theme tune, but sounds more like a shoeless man with his toes caught in an ever-tightening vice. Choristers they’re certainly not.
Membury, and the clan disperse in the general direction of KFC, Burger King or WHS. Milton, having enjoyed his appetizer back at the ranch, demolishes what may not have been a ‘Whopper’ in name, but it’s certainly one in terms of size. The minutes after the final piece has been swallowed, be begins complaining to the world and its dog that most of it’s stuck half way down. Half way down what or where, he doesn’t say, but it matters not as nobody listens.
It’s the International Break, so the Premier League’s having a lazy weekend and Talk Sport has little to report as we cross off the miles on the final lap. There’s a smidgeon of interest in the back of the bus that Cheltenham have drawn, a faint murmur when news of FGR’s travails arrives, though no interest at all as to the fate of the mighty GCFC at Gateshead. For the two people who wish to know, read on. Gateshead’s about as far from Gloucester as Beaumont’s temporary landlords are in downtown Zagreb, and there’s an almost perfect symmetry between the day’s results in each of these far-flung outposts. And neither of them is good.
In Woking, Gloucester A: Ansermoz; Ali, Brockbank, Curtis; Milton, Bevan, Bennett, Hine; Croose; Simpson. In Zagreb: Beaumont. And a Croatian tortoise.
News has come through that the top pitch at Brockwood Farm Drive is waterlogged following the overnight rain and kick-off on the bottom ground won’t happen until after the girls’ game has finished. ‘Great,’ smiles Coach Wilson, as he contemplates the delights of an extended fry-up at his favourite services’ breakfast outlet, only to find that on arrival at Reading, ‘The Good Food Company’ has well and truly disappeared. ‘That’s the last time we’re coming here,’ he informs the team with a certainty that suggests that this might well be true, but nobody hears as by the time he finishes his prolonged diatribe, everyone’s in the shop stocking up with what are euphemistically termed ‘awayday essentials’.
The Photographer doesn’t like either parting with money or standing in queues, so both Costa outlets and the KFC counter are definite non-starters, but Croose takes pity and agrees to procure The Lens’s sausage roll from Greggs as he’s already in the line. Ten minutes later the sausage roll appears and, much to everyone’s surprise, Milton gets a 20p tip for delivering it. ‘But, but….’ stammers Croose, whose devious plan, whatever it was, has financially backfired, but the lament is a personal one as everybody else is on the ‘grabber’ machine around the corner. Nobody wins.
Woking are in a difficult position at the moment. In the summer, their long-serving secretary / organiser, Richard Jones passed away and Adam Gunn, who has built the association’s girls’ set-up into one of the strongest in the country over the past fourteen years, has taken over some very big shoes. The Woking girls’ team is drawn from a training group of over thirty players and continues to be a fine district side, but their boys’ group is starting again from scratch. The aim is to replicate the girls’ format over time; with this in mind, five new players joined the group this week and in a most noble ‘Welcome to Woking’ gesture, all are included in today’s line-up.
The pre-match warm-up is an interesting experience; one of the practice balls finishes up behind the far goal, even though no-one can kick it half that distance, while Simpson spends most of the ten minutes standing in a pool of rainwater, in a clear and obvious attempt to wash the hideous pink hue off his hideous pink boots. Strange times indeed.
In footballing terms, we have two teams at very different stages of their development, but the hosts battle well in the first half and the Gloucester lead is only 2-0 at the break. After the interval however, goals arrive at regular intervals, with the Elmbridge twins helping themselves to four apiece, while Ali’s cutback gives Bennett the opportunity to open his season’s account. All players perform well in the circumstances and we’re into the next round of the Shires with plenty to spare. Bevan however is the big plus in regard to individual displays; his improved positioning in the gap between Brockbank and Bennett – a scary thought if we’re honest – being the day’s biggest personal positive.
The post-match hospitality is great and much appreciated, Milton helping himself to a hefty starter as he keeps the main course at Membury in the forefront of his mind. Only one giant hot dog then. We encounter seven Woking parents in the hospitality area and all, despite the big defeat, are positive, encouraging and grateful. The Woking players follow suit in a great example of adult-child influence. Whatever else we do, we set the example. And they set an extremely good one.
Back in the car park and there are scratches on the side of the bus and a dent in the passenger door. Accusatory eyes are cast in the driver’s direction, but the marks were already there when we picked it up. Honest.
Half way up the M4 and a strange noise is emanating from the seat behind, a pew that’s inhabited by a very un-cricket-like MCC (Milton, Croose & Curtis). The high-pitched squeal is apparently an attempt at the Champions League theme tune, but sounds more like a shoeless man with his toes caught in an ever-tightening vice. Choristers they’re certainly not.
Membury, and the clan disperse in the general direction of KFC, Burger King or WHS. Milton, having enjoyed his appetizer back at the ranch, demolishes what may not have been a ‘Whopper’ in name, but it’s certainly one in terms of size. The minutes after the final piece has been swallowed, be begins complaining to the world and its dog that most of it’s stuck half way down. Half way down what or where, he doesn’t say, but it matters not as nobody listens.
It’s the International Break, so the Premier League’s having a lazy weekend and Talk Sport has little to report as we cross off the miles on the final lap. There’s a smidgeon of interest in the back of the bus that Cheltenham have drawn, a faint murmur when news of FGR’s travails arrives, though no interest at all as to the fate of the mighty GCFC at Gateshead. For the two people who wish to know, read on. Gateshead’s about as far from Gloucester as Beaumont’s temporary landlords are in downtown Zagreb, and there’s an almost perfect symmetry between the day’s results in each of these far-flung outposts. And neither of them is good.
In Woking, Gloucester A: Ansermoz; Ali, Brockbank, Curtis; Milton, Bevan, Bennett, Hine; Croose; Simpson. In Zagreb: Beaumont. And a Croatian tortoise.
