Noah
Friday
It’s Friday, it’s 5 o’clock and for those of a certain vintage, it’s Crackerjack. Or at least it sounds like Crackerjack as the hail pelts down, the sky suggests the ten plagues of Egypt are about to descend on the car park’s redundant ticket machines and the access road to Plock Court fills to the point of flooding. Thankfully however, Noah B’s ark floats across the rain-lashed tarmac and arrives at the sports hall entrance in the nick of time to save the day. And in truly miraculous fashion, as quickly as they arrived, the biblical rains abate and the players traipse back, two by two, to the training ground. Catastrophe averted, we improve through the session and by the close there’s some nice three-touch, keep the ball on the floor stuff on view to anyone who’s braved the threat of a further deluge and is still leaning on the perimeter fence at 5.52pm, give or take a minute either way.
Saturday (before)
06.15 Saturday morning and a highly scientific pitch extension, which entails wandering around the ground in the pitch black hoping to avoid the thorn bush in the corner of the field, shows a second miracle has occurred and the hundreds of gallons of H2O deposited on the pitch over the previous 36 hours have completely disappeared, as have both the lines and the groundsman, the first of which may prove to be a problem. The second absence however means there are no seventh day tales of either internal or external anatomical complications and, suitably enthused by not having to nod for hours on end as another alimentary issue is shared with both the world and its dog, The Chef boards the tractor and gets to work ‘taking the top off’ both the 9-a-side and 7-a-side pitches.
The SET (Stadium Erection Team) announces its arrival about twenty minutes before dawn breaks through and everything’s close to perpendicular and parallel before the clock strikes eight and everyone settles down to a cup of Father Evans’ home-made tea.
With the Chef and the Vice Chair on the marker and tractor respectively, the pitches take shape as the ESFA Chairman, having made the 200-mile trek up from the white cliffs of Dover arrives to cast his all-seeing eyes over all that is GL2. He taught Father Milton back in the Garden of England not far off forty years ago and is thrilled to see Milton Junior strut his stuff on the hallowed turf at the Home of Football this very morning.
There’s a pre-match group photo with the top man and Simpson is surreptitiously ushered to the rear to hide his garish pink feet, while Hine and Curtis are moved to the front to show off their extremely popular (with the coaches anyway) traditional jet black sneakers. Ansermoz has, for reasons known only to himself and his immediate family, swapped his fine black boots for some utterly disgusting fluorescent green things and instantly loses all the brownie points he was never likely to accumulate over the course of the day. Alan Ball Bennett keeps trying to stick his once-white size ones into the full glare of the camera shot, though Captain Brockbank’s hideously orange size tens are highly unlikely to let this happen. Ever.
Saturday (during)
Triple B (Blue Boots Beaumont) is back from his tortoise-racing antics in the Balkans (lost 4-6), though has to be content with a starting place on the freshly-cleaned blue subs bench alongside Bevan, whose been temporarily sidelined for wearing a pair of black woollen gloves even though the temperature’s in the mid-teens. Regardless, the first half of this Southern Counties Cup tie against Bath sees the hosts carry on where they left off at OSP the evening before, putting together some neat moves that eventually bear fruit when Croose closes down the keeper and Ali knocks home the loose ball. Croose adds another assist to his tally with Ali, in true poetic fashion, converting the opportunity to extend the lead on sixteen minutes.
Hine, Bevan and Bennett are each influential in central midfield, but Kiely reduces the arrears with a well struck effort from the edge of the box before Bennett plays in Croose, who notches his twelfth score of the campaign to extend the hosts’ advantage at the break.
The second period sees Bath the better side and another fine finish, this time from Hodge, reduces the deficit to one. A well struck free kick from Harding draws the visitors level with twelve minutes remaining, but with the clock ticking down, Curtis does well down the left before playing in Noah B, who arrives in the nick of time, for the second day running. There’s a fair bit of hollering from the Family Enclosure on the other side of the ground, but eventually Grandfather Radcliffe’s carer arrives and the chloroform-soaked handkerchief ensures calm is quickly restored.
There’s still time for a few palpitations however as there’s a bit of last-minute pinball in the Gloucester box, but Ansermoz is brave in averting the danger and the referee’s rather welcome whistle confirms a second successive success, this time by the odd goal in seven.
Saturday (after)
There’s an impromptu game of ‘Hangman’ in the changing room as the kit is laid out beautifully in three separate piles, the person in last place having taken no more than three seconds to work out the name of the player in question once the fifth ‘A’ has dropped neatly into place.
Croose is turning into something of a catwalk model as he enters the refectory having lost his tie and with his shirt hanging out and his trousers half-tucked into his off-white socks, seemingly guarding against the off-chance that the neighbour’s ferrets will be cavorting around the eating room floor before he finishes off his gourmet sausage & chips for another week.
Saturday (much after)
With the ‘A’ Squad long gone, the girls’ teams mooch through the door in search of post-match refreshment as the disappointing news comes through from Evesham that the Gloucester City game is still on. So in place of an afternoon lie-down on the sofa watching Gillette Soccer Special out of a half-open left eye, The Photographer’s bundled into the car and transported up the A435 to the Hartwell & Spiers Jubilee Stadium which, despite its rather grand title, is little more than a field with a big wooden fence around it.
With twenty minutes gone its time for a quick nap and mid-afternoon dream while leaning on the perimeter fence. In this semi-conscious fug we fast forward to 2029 and it’s a miserable, cold, rain-lashed day with the score unsurprisingly Gloucester City 0 Bradford (Park Avenue) 0. With barely a minute of another unmemorable encounter remaining however, a red & yellow saviour in the shape of 21-year-old Noah B arrives in the nick of time and slots home the winner with his once-white Alan Ball left-sided size two for the third time in less than 24 hours. There’s a fair bit of hollering from the Family Enclosure on the other side of the ground, but eventually a white-coated, out-of-breath carer arrives and the chloroform-soaked handkerchief ensures calm is quickly restored.
Gloucester A: Ansermoz; Brockbank, Simpson, Curtis; Milton, Hine, Bennett, Ali; Croose; Bevan, Beaumont.
It’s Friday, it’s 5 o’clock and for those of a certain vintage, it’s Crackerjack. Or at least it sounds like Crackerjack as the hail pelts down, the sky suggests the ten plagues of Egypt are about to descend on the car park’s redundant ticket machines and the access road to Plock Court fills to the point of flooding. Thankfully however, Noah B’s ark floats across the rain-lashed tarmac and arrives at the sports hall entrance in the nick of time to save the day. And in truly miraculous fashion, as quickly as they arrived, the biblical rains abate and the players traipse back, two by two, to the training ground. Catastrophe averted, we improve through the session and by the close there’s some nice three-touch, keep the ball on the floor stuff on view to anyone who’s braved the threat of a further deluge and is still leaning on the perimeter fence at 5.52pm, give or take a minute either way.
Saturday (before)
06.15 Saturday morning and a highly scientific pitch extension, which entails wandering around the ground in the pitch black hoping to avoid the thorn bush in the corner of the field, shows a second miracle has occurred and the hundreds of gallons of H2O deposited on the pitch over the previous 36 hours have completely disappeared, as have both the lines and the groundsman, the first of which may prove to be a problem. The second absence however means there are no seventh day tales of either internal or external anatomical complications and, suitably enthused by not having to nod for hours on end as another alimentary issue is shared with both the world and its dog, The Chef boards the tractor and gets to work ‘taking the top off’ both the 9-a-side and 7-a-side pitches.
The SET (Stadium Erection Team) announces its arrival about twenty minutes before dawn breaks through and everything’s close to perpendicular and parallel before the clock strikes eight and everyone settles down to a cup of Father Evans’ home-made tea.
With the Chef and the Vice Chair on the marker and tractor respectively, the pitches take shape as the ESFA Chairman, having made the 200-mile trek up from the white cliffs of Dover arrives to cast his all-seeing eyes over all that is GL2. He taught Father Milton back in the Garden of England not far off forty years ago and is thrilled to see Milton Junior strut his stuff on the hallowed turf at the Home of Football this very morning.
There’s a pre-match group photo with the top man and Simpson is surreptitiously ushered to the rear to hide his garish pink feet, while Hine and Curtis are moved to the front to show off their extremely popular (with the coaches anyway) traditional jet black sneakers. Ansermoz has, for reasons known only to himself and his immediate family, swapped his fine black boots for some utterly disgusting fluorescent green things and instantly loses all the brownie points he was never likely to accumulate over the course of the day. Alan Ball Bennett keeps trying to stick his once-white size ones into the full glare of the camera shot, though Captain Brockbank’s hideously orange size tens are highly unlikely to let this happen. Ever.
Saturday (during)
Triple B (Blue Boots Beaumont) is back from his tortoise-racing antics in the Balkans (lost 4-6), though has to be content with a starting place on the freshly-cleaned blue subs bench alongside Bevan, whose been temporarily sidelined for wearing a pair of black woollen gloves even though the temperature’s in the mid-teens. Regardless, the first half of this Southern Counties Cup tie against Bath sees the hosts carry on where they left off at OSP the evening before, putting together some neat moves that eventually bear fruit when Croose closes down the keeper and Ali knocks home the loose ball. Croose adds another assist to his tally with Ali, in true poetic fashion, converting the opportunity to extend the lead on sixteen minutes.
Hine, Bevan and Bennett are each influential in central midfield, but Kiely reduces the arrears with a well struck effort from the edge of the box before Bennett plays in Croose, who notches his twelfth score of the campaign to extend the hosts’ advantage at the break.
The second period sees Bath the better side and another fine finish, this time from Hodge, reduces the deficit to one. A well struck free kick from Harding draws the visitors level with twelve minutes remaining, but with the clock ticking down, Curtis does well down the left before playing in Noah B, who arrives in the nick of time, for the second day running. There’s a fair bit of hollering from the Family Enclosure on the other side of the ground, but eventually Grandfather Radcliffe’s carer arrives and the chloroform-soaked handkerchief ensures calm is quickly restored.
There’s still time for a few palpitations however as there’s a bit of last-minute pinball in the Gloucester box, but Ansermoz is brave in averting the danger and the referee’s rather welcome whistle confirms a second successive success, this time by the odd goal in seven.
Saturday (after)
There’s an impromptu game of ‘Hangman’ in the changing room as the kit is laid out beautifully in three separate piles, the person in last place having taken no more than three seconds to work out the name of the player in question once the fifth ‘A’ has dropped neatly into place.
Croose is turning into something of a catwalk model as he enters the refectory having lost his tie and with his shirt hanging out and his trousers half-tucked into his off-white socks, seemingly guarding against the off-chance that the neighbour’s ferrets will be cavorting around the eating room floor before he finishes off his gourmet sausage & chips for another week.
Saturday (much after)
With the ‘A’ Squad long gone, the girls’ teams mooch through the door in search of post-match refreshment as the disappointing news comes through from Evesham that the Gloucester City game is still on. So in place of an afternoon lie-down on the sofa watching Gillette Soccer Special out of a half-open left eye, The Photographer’s bundled into the car and transported up the A435 to the Hartwell & Spiers Jubilee Stadium which, despite its rather grand title, is little more than a field with a big wooden fence around it.
With twenty minutes gone its time for a quick nap and mid-afternoon dream while leaning on the perimeter fence. In this semi-conscious fug we fast forward to 2029 and it’s a miserable, cold, rain-lashed day with the score unsurprisingly Gloucester City 0 Bradford (Park Avenue) 0. With barely a minute of another unmemorable encounter remaining however, a red & yellow saviour in the shape of 21-year-old Noah B arrives in the nick of time and slots home the winner with his once-white Alan Ball left-sided size two for the third time in less than 24 hours. There’s a fair bit of hollering from the Family Enclosure on the other side of the ground, but eventually a white-coated, out-of-breath carer arrives and the chloroform-soaked handkerchief ensures calm is quickly restored.
Gloucester A: Ansermoz; Brockbank, Simpson, Curtis; Milton, Hine, Bennett, Ali; Croose; Bevan, Beaumont.
