All-Seeing Eyes
The Crack-of-Dawn Club is up and running well before the crack of dawn, thanks to Father Vye’s 6.22am arrival at the Field of Dreams, where Ray Kinsella and ‘Shoeless’ Joe Jackson might have been seen weaving their magic if it was still 1989. Kevin Costner wouldn’t have been seen dead in a pair of navy blue shorts on a UK morning in November, but Father Vye cares not, his desire to lead the way in displaying a bit of early-doors leg is impressive to say the least. Or just downright brave / foolhardy / obdurate / scary (delete as applicable), depending on your point of view.
Father Ted arrives next, dog collar intact, followed by Father Burgess, who’s swapped his late-summer cut-offs for a pair of longs and a duo of less-than-fetching wellington boots. If only the good old Duke had realised the long-term effects of meddling with the French and introducing these knee length rubbers to the civilised world, then maybe he’d have stayed at home in downtown Dublin and given Waterloo a miss.
Father Knight and Father Walters (both 17/18) precede the arrival of Father Jones, who becomes the first person to come to Longlevens this season looking, speaking and acting like a bona fide football coach – he’s also wearing shorts, but that’s okay, as by now night’s covering has lifted and the temperature’s gone the same way too.
The Groundsman rocks up, looking as if he’s endured a night on the tiles, but no-one asks how he is as the first kick-off’s at ten and there’s still a fair bit to do. Big Sam Austin (goalkeeper 14/15) is busy sweeping the patio before the little hand’s reached seven, on the orders of another duke – Edinburgh this time – as he ticks off three more volunteering hours on his way to his well-earned award. Having been snared by The Groundsman for a good half hour on his previous visit and on hearing the footsteps of doom right now, Big Sam A fakes a hearing deficiency and a sudden loss of any translatable speech, before locking himself in cubicle two of the gents to ensure relative safety, for the time being at least.
The Chairman’s Wife is in situ with The Chef in the kitchen, wearing her new GPSFA apron and a constant frown. She’s sure her weekly flapjack tin was full when she left Stoney Field thirty minutes previously and is blessedly unaware of The Chairman brushing the oat particles from his lips in the visitors’ changing room, barely three metres away as the crumb flies.
Millward ensures he’s the first player to arrive, so he can take up a position behind the changing room door and scare people as they come in. It works perfectly and The Chairman makes a hasty retreat to take up a foodless position in the car park from where he casts his all-seeing eye over proceedings on the hallowed turf.
Burgess, ‘I’m just going out and might be some time’ Jones, Slider and WC in the city midfield grasp the upper hand early doors, but there are few chances in the opening twenty minutes as Obieri is well shackled by half the Stevenage team whenever the ball threatens to get anywhere near him.
Myatt however is finding plenty of space down the right and gives us a twenty-second minute lead with a well struck effort that surprises the goalkeeper before nestling serenely in the far corner.
The Gloucester backline, with the excellent Caple flanked by Millward’s solidity on the right and the ever-improving Wasp on the left, repel virtually all the visitors’ attacks, while High Definition remains a calming influence, on the coaches at any rate, between the big white sticks.
The half time interval is noteworthy due to someone leaving the jelly babies in their car, but the focus usually reserved for biting the heads off the orange ones is now applied to the second period instead. This rather fortunate slice of tactical brilliance sees the home side begin to register more of a goal threat and Vernon in the Stevenage onion bag does very well to turn Wasp’s long range effort over the bar and even better to keep out Burgess’s (or was it Slider’s) – note to crowd: please don’t talk at important moments – rasping drive.
Lettuce is also denied by Vernon before Vye’s right wing corner is despatched with better technique than he’ll ever realise, by Iron Man. Cue mass celebration.
Stevenage is Lewis Hamilton country, but it’s Gloucester that are in the outside lane now and three minutes later there’s another excellent finish, this time by the impressive Vye, left-footed, after fine approach play involving Millward, May and Burgess. Cue mass celebration number two.
With time running out, Obieri finally grabs the goal he’s been snarling for all morning – after leaving a trail of destruction behind him, the striker unleashes an Exocet of a drive that is best described as unstoppable into the top far corner, to precede the best moment of 3rd November 2018, as WC and Jones charge down the touchline to join all eight outfield players in the biggest celebration of them all. Even High Definition is thinking of joining in, but a quick glance right in the general direction of a clearly disapproving TRI brings him back to his usual senses and he satisfies himself with a quick, yet highly cultured celebratory jig, somewhere near the six-yard line.
It’s 4-0 in a game that was never a 4-0 game, but the writing was on the wall for Stevenage once Dan, Dan the University Man walked through the big green gates, because as Wokingham will testify, Dan, Dan The University Man only does 4-0s. Our other lucky mascot at Reddam House twelve days ago, Guy Burgess, didn’t make the trip to Gloucester today as both the red flashing light and cacophonous super-siren at the nearby GCHQ Doughnut, would no doubt have gone into overdrive should the Man Called Uncle appear anywhere within a ten-mile radius of its all-seeing radar. And the fact that the all-seeing chairman (who sees everything apart from, thankfully, this blog), used to be a spy as well. Honestly!
There are two things to note in the post-match hour. Mother Sargeant (17/18), who is in attendance at the second game, an entertaining goalless draw between GPSFA Yellows and Gloucester City U12s, is flaunting a pair of Duke of Wellingtons and a matching scarf, with all three accoutrements bearing the same pattern – a tasteful arrangement that can best be described as a cross between an Aunt Martha’s tea towel and a Jan Eaton tablecloth design. Puts Father Burgess’s Old MacDonald rubbers to shame though.
Secondly, on emptying the big blue Ikea bag, there are three match shirts that the kit washer’s all-seeing eye spots as being left inside out. They are numbers 5, 6 & 10. In the interests of both morality and propriety however, the identities of the miscreants will remain a closely-guarded secret for now, but letters of complaint have already been posted to the head teachers of Norton, Elmbridge & King’s respectively, and their joint response to this atrocity is keenly awaited.
Meanwhile, 3rd November goes rapidly downhill as, five days on from the Wealdstone debacle, we suffer another deflating afternoon at the Hartwell & Spiers Jubilee Stadium, that includes a 2-1 defeat for GCFC to a Dartford side dressed in horrendous purple-rain outfits. At least there are fried onions to disguise today’s burger, an object that was last seen alive in the three o’clock hurdles at Cheltenham Races.
As we drop the Chairman off to collect his car from Brionne Way, his all-seeing eye spies the packet of chocolate bourbons left over from the Isle of Wight, that have been rolling around on the floor in front of the forward passenger seat.
‘I’ve just seen the sell-by date, so I’ll have to eat these before I get home,’ he announces in typically forthright fashion. And for the second time today, we give thanks that the Chairman sees everything, apart from this blog.
Gloucester: High Definition; Custard Cream, Ted, Wasp; WC, Lawrence, Pathfinder, Slider; Obieri; May, Lettuce.
Father Ted arrives next, dog collar intact, followed by Father Burgess, who’s swapped his late-summer cut-offs for a pair of longs and a duo of less-than-fetching wellington boots. If only the good old Duke had realised the long-term effects of meddling with the French and introducing these knee length rubbers to the civilised world, then maybe he’d have stayed at home in downtown Dublin and given Waterloo a miss.
Father Knight and Father Walters (both 17/18) precede the arrival of Father Jones, who becomes the first person to come to Longlevens this season looking, speaking and acting like a bona fide football coach – he’s also wearing shorts, but that’s okay, as by now night’s covering has lifted and the temperature’s gone the same way too.
The Groundsman rocks up, looking as if he’s endured a night on the tiles, but no-one asks how he is as the first kick-off’s at ten and there’s still a fair bit to do. Big Sam Austin (goalkeeper 14/15) is busy sweeping the patio before the little hand’s reached seven, on the orders of another duke – Edinburgh this time – as he ticks off three more volunteering hours on his way to his well-earned award. Having been snared by The Groundsman for a good half hour on his previous visit and on hearing the footsteps of doom right now, Big Sam A fakes a hearing deficiency and a sudden loss of any translatable speech, before locking himself in cubicle two of the gents to ensure relative safety, for the time being at least.
The Chairman’s Wife is in situ with The Chef in the kitchen, wearing her new GPSFA apron and a constant frown. She’s sure her weekly flapjack tin was full when she left Stoney Field thirty minutes previously and is blessedly unaware of The Chairman brushing the oat particles from his lips in the visitors’ changing room, barely three metres away as the crumb flies.
Millward ensures he’s the first player to arrive, so he can take up a position behind the changing room door and scare people as they come in. It works perfectly and The Chairman makes a hasty retreat to take up a foodless position in the car park from where he casts his all-seeing eye over proceedings on the hallowed turf.
Burgess, ‘I’m just going out and might be some time’ Jones, Slider and WC in the city midfield grasp the upper hand early doors, but there are few chances in the opening twenty minutes as Obieri is well shackled by half the Stevenage team whenever the ball threatens to get anywhere near him.
Myatt however is finding plenty of space down the right and gives us a twenty-second minute lead with a well struck effort that surprises the goalkeeper before nestling serenely in the far corner.
The Gloucester backline, with the excellent Caple flanked by Millward’s solidity on the right and the ever-improving Wasp on the left, repel virtually all the visitors’ attacks, while High Definition remains a calming influence, on the coaches at any rate, between the big white sticks.
The half time interval is noteworthy due to someone leaving the jelly babies in their car, but the focus usually reserved for biting the heads off the orange ones is now applied to the second period instead. This rather fortunate slice of tactical brilliance sees the home side begin to register more of a goal threat and Vernon in the Stevenage onion bag does very well to turn Wasp’s long range effort over the bar and even better to keep out Burgess’s (or was it Slider’s) – note to crowd: please don’t talk at important moments – rasping drive.
Lettuce is also denied by Vernon before Vye’s right wing corner is despatched with better technique than he’ll ever realise, by Iron Man. Cue mass celebration.
Stevenage is Lewis Hamilton country, but it’s Gloucester that are in the outside lane now and three minutes later there’s another excellent finish, this time by the impressive Vye, left-footed, after fine approach play involving Millward, May and Burgess. Cue mass celebration number two.
With time running out, Obieri finally grabs the goal he’s been snarling for all morning – after leaving a trail of destruction behind him, the striker unleashes an Exocet of a drive that is best described as unstoppable into the top far corner, to precede the best moment of 3rd November 2018, as WC and Jones charge down the touchline to join all eight outfield players in the biggest celebration of them all. Even High Definition is thinking of joining in, but a quick glance right in the general direction of a clearly disapproving TRI brings him back to his usual senses and he satisfies himself with a quick, yet highly cultured celebratory jig, somewhere near the six-yard line.
It’s 4-0 in a game that was never a 4-0 game, but the writing was on the wall for Stevenage once Dan, Dan the University Man walked through the big green gates, because as Wokingham will testify, Dan, Dan The University Man only does 4-0s. Our other lucky mascot at Reddam House twelve days ago, Guy Burgess, didn’t make the trip to Gloucester today as both the red flashing light and cacophonous super-siren at the nearby GCHQ Doughnut, would no doubt have gone into overdrive should the Man Called Uncle appear anywhere within a ten-mile radius of its all-seeing radar. And the fact that the all-seeing chairman (who sees everything apart from, thankfully, this blog), used to be a spy as well. Honestly!
There are two things to note in the post-match hour. Mother Sargeant (17/18), who is in attendance at the second game, an entertaining goalless draw between GPSFA Yellows and Gloucester City U12s, is flaunting a pair of Duke of Wellingtons and a matching scarf, with all three accoutrements bearing the same pattern – a tasteful arrangement that can best be described as a cross between an Aunt Martha’s tea towel and a Jan Eaton tablecloth design. Puts Father Burgess’s Old MacDonald rubbers to shame though.
Secondly, on emptying the big blue Ikea bag, there are three match shirts that the kit washer’s all-seeing eye spots as being left inside out. They are numbers 5, 6 & 10. In the interests of both morality and propriety however, the identities of the miscreants will remain a closely-guarded secret for now, but letters of complaint have already been posted to the head teachers of Norton, Elmbridge & King’s respectively, and their joint response to this atrocity is keenly awaited.
Meanwhile, 3rd November goes rapidly downhill as, five days on from the Wealdstone debacle, we suffer another deflating afternoon at the Hartwell & Spiers Jubilee Stadium, that includes a 2-1 defeat for GCFC to a Dartford side dressed in horrendous purple-rain outfits. At least there are fried onions to disguise today’s burger, an object that was last seen alive in the three o’clock hurdles at Cheltenham Races.
As we drop the Chairman off to collect his car from Brionne Way, his all-seeing eye spies the packet of chocolate bourbons left over from the Isle of Wight, that have been rolling around on the floor in front of the forward passenger seat.
‘I’ve just seen the sell-by date, so I’ll have to eat these before I get home,’ he announces in typically forthright fashion. And for the second time today, we give thanks that the Chairman sees everything, apart from this blog.
Gloucester: High Definition; Custard Cream, Ted, Wasp; WC, Lawrence, Pathfinder, Slider; Obieri; May, Lettuce.
