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06:20. Father Vye’s already at the ranch, limbering up for his five-at-a-time, advertising board sorties from one end of the ground to the other. The Groundsman’s here too, also limbering up, awaiting the imminent arrival of Young Sam and the opportunity to (literally) offload the week’s ills in a way that would make the good old Duke of Edinburgh surely reassess the criteria for the volunteering section of his much-coveted Bronze Award. Is this degree of suffering really necessary to be imposed on such a commendably enthusiastic 15-year-old boy in search of nothing more than contributing to the greater good? Or GPSFA in this case.
06:45. Father Ted’s taking a well-earned breather after moving his first pitchside hoarding and is busy taking photographs of a pitch-black Longlevens. At least that looks like what he’s doing, as there’s certainly something flashing about twenty yards away. Father Jones appears out of the gloom carrying some long metal spikes; he’s probably been here ages, but no-one’s seen him yet.
06.52. Young Sam arrives, goes nowhere near the eating room and instead busies himself setting out Coach Stalley’s bright yellow poles and fluorescent pitchside rope. The Groundsman shuffles frustratedly in his seat, checks his watch and flicks the kettle switch. Father Jones proves he’s still here by appearing momentarily in the light emitted by Father Ted’s camera, then disappears again in the general direction of the north west corner of the ground.
07:13. Coach Stalley drives in, notes his bright yellow poles and fluorescent pitchside rope are both already up, so saunters into the waiting room, where he’s immediately cornered in the square metre immediately to the left of the Cambridge United shirt and to the right of the box of spare match programmes by The Groundsman, who’s just about at the end of his long-waiting tether. As Captain Lawrence Titus Oates, of Scott of the Antarctic fame once reportedly said, ‘I’m just popping into the eating room and I might be some time.’
08.07. Morning has well and truly broken at the Field of Dreams, but Coach Stalley is completely unaware of the dawn of a brand new day; instead, his new-found understanding of the spleen and most neighbouring organs has reached a level previously unimagined and a new career in alimentary surgery has become a realistic and distinct possibility. Either that, or a full-time post at The Samaritans.
09.24. Newport begin to arrive and The Chairman makes his way to the big green gates, his mind full of the brand new car park plan he’s spent the last seven days memorising and his trouser pockets full of the flapjacks that Mrs Chairman’s spent the last seven days baking. Only one person crashes under his astute arm-waving directions and no-one starves either, so the previous week can categorically be described as ‘extremely productive’.
10.45. There’s good support for the Development squads across the meadow and a nice gathering too behind Young Sam’s bright yellow poles and fluorescent pitchside rope as The Yellows get the second game of the day underway. With the general public having seen Wednesday’s twitter photo of coaches Wixey & Harris modelling the new black & yellow bobble hats, business at the souvenir table is understandably slow, while apart from The Photographer setting up his Big Red Money Machine, the Eating Room has been a strict no-go zone for the past three hours and thirty two minutes. No wonder the patio area seems remarkably populated.
11.15. Wasp is beside himself with glee at being handed the number nine shirt for the first (and possibly last) time in his football career, with Beamer and El Capitano earmarked for a bench-rest for the first third of today’s game.
11.21. Wasp is beside himself with despair at having to swap the number nine shirt for his usual number three, as Mother Brown is late due to his Saturday morning line dancing rehearsal running a few minutes over; El Capitano gives Wasp a conciliatory pat on the cranium in his role as leader of the pack and at the same time masters a perfectly synchronised nearside-cheek sympathy look and a wry, blind-side cheek grin as he pulls the number nine shirt over his own head and takes up the centre forward position before Stinger can let out a single buzz.
12.00. The game kicks-off following Coach Stalley’s intricately prepared thirty-five-minute FA warm-up routine (number 53) which has been reduced to a meagre eight, following his incarceration and subsequent last-ditch escape from The Groundsman’s clutches, a manoeuvre made possible only by The Chef shouting ‘Fire’ at the top of his voice and rushing madly out of the building clutching a half-cooked breakfast bap in his leading hand.
12.21. There are nice coaches and there are less nice coaches. Unhappy that Woking have levelled the scores, not-so-nice Coach Wilson immediately introduces Beamer to the fray, though in all fairness he’d already had his warm-up top off and been embarking on a feverish, in-your-face stretching routine for the previous 20 minutes and 59 seconds.
13.06. Full time and the Black & Yellows have added to the Development and Yellows’ victories with a 5-1 success of their own. Everyone guessed it might be a four-goal margin today as Dan, Dan the University Man is in attendance and his previous two showings have both resulted in four-nil wins over Wokingham and Stevenage. Third time lucky as well, then. Massive credit to our visitors Woking in both games though. Shorn of no less than ten team members across their two squads on this last Saturday before Christmas, every one of their players put in a proper shift and were competitive throughout. Well done all. ‘Forget your thirteenth straight win,’ orders The Chairman in an unceremonious, get-down-to-earth-command, ‘I want a run-down on every player’s performance to date before you go out celebrating tonight.’
13.27. Thelma & Louise have excelled in the serving stakes over the last couple of hours and Mother May and Mother Freeman do the same this time around; the former modelling a rather upmarket, ‘Merry Christmas’ hat from the Primark pre-Xmas sale, the latter in a Gucci Elf costume that was last seen in the big window at Harrod’s, a little-known department store just off the Brompton Road in downtown Knightsbridge.
13.28. Mother Fieldhouse buys two GPSFA scarves and, bucking the trend as she hasn’t seen this week’s twitter feed, procures two black & yellow bobble hats as well. On the downside, this means the end of her impressive Siamese double-bobble at future GPSFA events, but on the good side it does mean that when the Red Cross parcels arrive in Kandahar, Father Fieldhouse will be well protected against those sub-zero Afghan-night thermometer readings.
13.30. The 2017/18 Girls’ Reunion game has finished and the Boys’ has just started. Mother Adibayor has brought a hundred amazing samosas that have clearly been nowhere near the Churchdown Tesco deli counter, while Coach Kelly, re-enacting those childhood Christmases of yore, has organised some subdued 1950’s Xmas music in the background. The Weatherman predicted a morning monsoon would hit GL2 today, at which point everyone knew that the sun would shine brightly and the righteous amongst us would surely prevail. Mother Sargeant is resplendent in matching top, wellies, bobble hat and socks amongst other items of pink & pale blue (under)-clothing, while Mother of the Colonel is wearing bobble hat number 25, a relic that was only seen on two occasions last season – and we lost both times. Third time lucky here too, then.
13.53. Jones has returned to the Home of Football on his bike in a successful attempt to utilise numbers 721-730 on the orange and claim a confectionery-based raffle prize at the same time that Father Daniels is leaving, his Robert Falcon Scott (of the Antarctic) impression sure to be the outright winner at tonight’s Red Lion retro evening. Father Myatt is less than impressed, as he’s had his eye on that leg of lamb ever since taking his 1960s navy blue shell suit out of the spare wardrobe and giving it a quick iron a week last Tuesday, but he knows the sympathy vote is crucial in these matters and the fact that Scott never returned will be the deciding factor when push comes to shove in about eight hours’ time.
14.47. Most people think the Reunion fixture has ended 3-3, but whatever the score, everyone is certain that Coach Harris has been sent to the stand for disputing the referee’s decision, the frown lines appearing on The Chairman’s forehead showing either his complete and utter displeasure at the errant coach’s behaviour, or the fact that his pockets are now completely empty and access to the last flapjack tin is, temporarily at least, being barred by the Real Boss. Technicalities apart, a 22-player penalty shoot-out concludes proceedings before the day’s fifth offering of Chef’s Speciality (sausage & chips) is consumed by twenty two players who have miraculously survived (to date), despite eating heartily in Foran’s Kitchen for eight solid months last season.
15.53. The away dressing room’s been swept and the home one started. Three warm-up tops (numbers 2, 6 & 10 – you do the maths), two showerproofs and a pair of black Nike gloves have been left behind, though no remnants of Myatt’s clothing have been discovered. Only his laminated list of kit bag items is found, meaning he’s likely to appear completely bereft of boots, shin pads and tactics in two weeks’ time when St Albans pop up to GL2 for the third time this season.
16.07. Laverton and Big Sam (both 2017/18) sheepishly return to collect a kit bag, water bottle and pair of lurid green boots, before asking if they too can have a laminated list to use for the next six years, or at least until they’re old enough to vote, at which point they’ll campaign for the provision of lists such as these to be made compulsory attachments for all GPSFA U11 players.
16.43. Finally get home, switch on twitter to find GCFC are again 1-0 down and consider how things completely out of your control can put a slight dampener on what has been a long, but great day. Put warm-up tops 2, 6 & 10 in the washing machine, slam the door shut and recheck twitter. Thank goodness we had five games today and therefore couldn’t get to the Hartwell & Spiers in time to spend ninety depressing minutes watching this stuff.
16.49. GOAL!! Harry Williams! 1-1! What a day! Who suggested having five games? First league goal for a month and we’ve missed it!
16.52. Full time. Development win; Yellows win; we win; GCFC don’t lose. 221 people have come through the big green gates, a record attendance at GL2. The fabulous 17/18 people from both sides of Young Sam’s fluorescent rope have all been back to the ground they graced not so long ago and another ‘first’ has been notched on the Field of Dreams’ achievement board. GCHQ satellites report sightings of a moving Wall about five miles west of The Doughnut, bringing a knowing smile to the face of The Chairman, a former spy himself, who has just managed to infiltrate the confectionery cupboard in the Royal Household after using his nineteenth century undercover training to good effect by locking The Real Boss in the bathroom and turning the volume of the TV up to maximum in order to drown out her desperate - and utterly futile - cries for help.
17.17. Going out in two hours, so get out the ink pot and quill and begin writing the ‘Mid-Term Report’.
High Definition: Every good team has an extremely good goalkeeper and this team is no exception. Thoughtful, considerate, respectful and never loses anything. Until today.
Mother Brown: Like Ronseal, does what it says on the tin and does it very effectively. Desperate to score at least once this season, but two weeks of Xmas-inflicted reflection should persuade him this is highly unlikely to happen. Ever. Good laugh, but don’t tell him.
Iron Man: Resolute, determined, committed, fearless, but above all, extremely nice. Despite being made from girders.
Wasp: As they said of the late and great Muhammad Ali, ‘Flies like a butterfly, stings like a Wasp’. Has improved hugely over the past four months and done really well at left wing back. Very loud on the bus.
WC: Dribbles beautifully, including when he plays. Enthusiasm for Water-Carrying has declined as Kit-Packing ability has improved. Doesn’t like wearing jumpers to post-match meals.
Issur Danielovitch: Temporary move to centre back on Saturday was his sixth (or seventh) different position of the season to date. So important to have such a versatile player in the squad, though centre forward or goalkeeper may be a step too far. Like Wasp, also loud.
Lawrence Titus Jones: ‘I’m just going out to make a phone call and might be some time.’ Midfielder; full back; centre back; wherever; no prisoners; good player. Fiddles raffle draws.
Slider: Changed technique to skill to impact in the first four weeks and hasn’t looked back. Very important player, creative passer, good feet, but even better sliders.
Lettuce: Works very hard up and down the left side, creating opportunities for others with fine passes or crosses. Salad eater extraordinaire.
El Capitano: Leads by example; passes, scores, tackles. No inch given, none expected. Attends Highnam School, along with many of his girlfriends.
Beamer: One of the hardest-working strikers you’re ever likely to see and long may it continue. Hundreds of beams including forty big ‘uns so far. Divides fractions and converts answers to mixed numbers for fun.
Gloucester 2018/19: High Definition; Slider, Iron Man, Wasp; Isaac, Lawrence, Issur Danielovitch, Lettuce; El Capitano; Beamer, Mother Brown.
Gloucester 2017/18: Adibyor, Anserz, Forts, Kenny, Scarface, Freddie, Tom, Lavvers, Big Sam, Billy, Lacoste, Ollie, Colonel, Jarvis, Sarge, Margaret, Lisa, Weatherman, Smiling Leo Taylor, Nureyev, Smamarrrrrr & Finners. Thanks everyone for coming back – is was great. And Lavvers Senior – where are my shin pads?
Happy days.
06:45. Father Ted’s taking a well-earned breather after moving his first pitchside hoarding and is busy taking photographs of a pitch-black Longlevens. At least that looks like what he’s doing, as there’s certainly something flashing about twenty yards away. Father Jones appears out of the gloom carrying some long metal spikes; he’s probably been here ages, but no-one’s seen him yet.
06.52. Young Sam arrives, goes nowhere near the eating room and instead busies himself setting out Coach Stalley’s bright yellow poles and fluorescent pitchside rope. The Groundsman shuffles frustratedly in his seat, checks his watch and flicks the kettle switch. Father Jones proves he’s still here by appearing momentarily in the light emitted by Father Ted’s camera, then disappears again in the general direction of the north west corner of the ground.
07:13. Coach Stalley drives in, notes his bright yellow poles and fluorescent pitchside rope are both already up, so saunters into the waiting room, where he’s immediately cornered in the square metre immediately to the left of the Cambridge United shirt and to the right of the box of spare match programmes by The Groundsman, who’s just about at the end of his long-waiting tether. As Captain Lawrence Titus Oates, of Scott of the Antarctic fame once reportedly said, ‘I’m just popping into the eating room and I might be some time.’
08.07. Morning has well and truly broken at the Field of Dreams, but Coach Stalley is completely unaware of the dawn of a brand new day; instead, his new-found understanding of the spleen and most neighbouring organs has reached a level previously unimagined and a new career in alimentary surgery has become a realistic and distinct possibility. Either that, or a full-time post at The Samaritans.
09.24. Newport begin to arrive and The Chairman makes his way to the big green gates, his mind full of the brand new car park plan he’s spent the last seven days memorising and his trouser pockets full of the flapjacks that Mrs Chairman’s spent the last seven days baking. Only one person crashes under his astute arm-waving directions and no-one starves either, so the previous week can categorically be described as ‘extremely productive’.
10.45. There’s good support for the Development squads across the meadow and a nice gathering too behind Young Sam’s bright yellow poles and fluorescent pitchside rope as The Yellows get the second game of the day underway. With the general public having seen Wednesday’s twitter photo of coaches Wixey & Harris modelling the new black & yellow bobble hats, business at the souvenir table is understandably slow, while apart from The Photographer setting up his Big Red Money Machine, the Eating Room has been a strict no-go zone for the past three hours and thirty two minutes. No wonder the patio area seems remarkably populated.
11.15. Wasp is beside himself with glee at being handed the number nine shirt for the first (and possibly last) time in his football career, with Beamer and El Capitano earmarked for a bench-rest for the first third of today’s game.
11.21. Wasp is beside himself with despair at having to swap the number nine shirt for his usual number three, as Mother Brown is late due to his Saturday morning line dancing rehearsal running a few minutes over; El Capitano gives Wasp a conciliatory pat on the cranium in his role as leader of the pack and at the same time masters a perfectly synchronised nearside-cheek sympathy look and a wry, blind-side cheek grin as he pulls the number nine shirt over his own head and takes up the centre forward position before Stinger can let out a single buzz.
12.00. The game kicks-off following Coach Stalley’s intricately prepared thirty-five-minute FA warm-up routine (number 53) which has been reduced to a meagre eight, following his incarceration and subsequent last-ditch escape from The Groundsman’s clutches, a manoeuvre made possible only by The Chef shouting ‘Fire’ at the top of his voice and rushing madly out of the building clutching a half-cooked breakfast bap in his leading hand.
12.21. There are nice coaches and there are less nice coaches. Unhappy that Woking have levelled the scores, not-so-nice Coach Wilson immediately introduces Beamer to the fray, though in all fairness he’d already had his warm-up top off and been embarking on a feverish, in-your-face stretching routine for the previous 20 minutes and 59 seconds.
13.06. Full time and the Black & Yellows have added to the Development and Yellows’ victories with a 5-1 success of their own. Everyone guessed it might be a four-goal margin today as Dan, Dan the University Man is in attendance and his previous two showings have both resulted in four-nil wins over Wokingham and Stevenage. Third time lucky as well, then. Massive credit to our visitors Woking in both games though. Shorn of no less than ten team members across their two squads on this last Saturday before Christmas, every one of their players put in a proper shift and were competitive throughout. Well done all. ‘Forget your thirteenth straight win,’ orders The Chairman in an unceremonious, get-down-to-earth-command, ‘I want a run-down on every player’s performance to date before you go out celebrating tonight.’
13.27. Thelma & Louise have excelled in the serving stakes over the last couple of hours and Mother May and Mother Freeman do the same this time around; the former modelling a rather upmarket, ‘Merry Christmas’ hat from the Primark pre-Xmas sale, the latter in a Gucci Elf costume that was last seen in the big window at Harrod’s, a little-known department store just off the Brompton Road in downtown Knightsbridge.
13.28. Mother Fieldhouse buys two GPSFA scarves and, bucking the trend as she hasn’t seen this week’s twitter feed, procures two black & yellow bobble hats as well. On the downside, this means the end of her impressive Siamese double-bobble at future GPSFA events, but on the good side it does mean that when the Red Cross parcels arrive in Kandahar, Father Fieldhouse will be well protected against those sub-zero Afghan-night thermometer readings.
13.30. The 2017/18 Girls’ Reunion game has finished and the Boys’ has just started. Mother Adibayor has brought a hundred amazing samosas that have clearly been nowhere near the Churchdown Tesco deli counter, while Coach Kelly, re-enacting those childhood Christmases of yore, has organised some subdued 1950’s Xmas music in the background. The Weatherman predicted a morning monsoon would hit GL2 today, at which point everyone knew that the sun would shine brightly and the righteous amongst us would surely prevail. Mother Sargeant is resplendent in matching top, wellies, bobble hat and socks amongst other items of pink & pale blue (under)-clothing, while Mother of the Colonel is wearing bobble hat number 25, a relic that was only seen on two occasions last season – and we lost both times. Third time lucky here too, then.
13.53. Jones has returned to the Home of Football on his bike in a successful attempt to utilise numbers 721-730 on the orange and claim a confectionery-based raffle prize at the same time that Father Daniels is leaving, his Robert Falcon Scott (of the Antarctic) impression sure to be the outright winner at tonight’s Red Lion retro evening. Father Myatt is less than impressed, as he’s had his eye on that leg of lamb ever since taking his 1960s navy blue shell suit out of the spare wardrobe and giving it a quick iron a week last Tuesday, but he knows the sympathy vote is crucial in these matters and the fact that Scott never returned will be the deciding factor when push comes to shove in about eight hours’ time.
14.47. Most people think the Reunion fixture has ended 3-3, but whatever the score, everyone is certain that Coach Harris has been sent to the stand for disputing the referee’s decision, the frown lines appearing on The Chairman’s forehead showing either his complete and utter displeasure at the errant coach’s behaviour, or the fact that his pockets are now completely empty and access to the last flapjack tin is, temporarily at least, being barred by the Real Boss. Technicalities apart, a 22-player penalty shoot-out concludes proceedings before the day’s fifth offering of Chef’s Speciality (sausage & chips) is consumed by twenty two players who have miraculously survived (to date), despite eating heartily in Foran’s Kitchen for eight solid months last season.
15.53. The away dressing room’s been swept and the home one started. Three warm-up tops (numbers 2, 6 & 10 – you do the maths), two showerproofs and a pair of black Nike gloves have been left behind, though no remnants of Myatt’s clothing have been discovered. Only his laminated list of kit bag items is found, meaning he’s likely to appear completely bereft of boots, shin pads and tactics in two weeks’ time when St Albans pop up to GL2 for the third time this season.
16.07. Laverton and Big Sam (both 2017/18) sheepishly return to collect a kit bag, water bottle and pair of lurid green boots, before asking if they too can have a laminated list to use for the next six years, or at least until they’re old enough to vote, at which point they’ll campaign for the provision of lists such as these to be made compulsory attachments for all GPSFA U11 players.
16.43. Finally get home, switch on twitter to find GCFC are again 1-0 down and consider how things completely out of your control can put a slight dampener on what has been a long, but great day. Put warm-up tops 2, 6 & 10 in the washing machine, slam the door shut and recheck twitter. Thank goodness we had five games today and therefore couldn’t get to the Hartwell & Spiers in time to spend ninety depressing minutes watching this stuff.
16.49. GOAL!! Harry Williams! 1-1! What a day! Who suggested having five games? First league goal for a month and we’ve missed it!
16.52. Full time. Development win; Yellows win; we win; GCFC don’t lose. 221 people have come through the big green gates, a record attendance at GL2. The fabulous 17/18 people from both sides of Young Sam’s fluorescent rope have all been back to the ground they graced not so long ago and another ‘first’ has been notched on the Field of Dreams’ achievement board. GCHQ satellites report sightings of a moving Wall about five miles west of The Doughnut, bringing a knowing smile to the face of The Chairman, a former spy himself, who has just managed to infiltrate the confectionery cupboard in the Royal Household after using his nineteenth century undercover training to good effect by locking The Real Boss in the bathroom and turning the volume of the TV up to maximum in order to drown out her desperate - and utterly futile - cries for help.
17.17. Going out in two hours, so get out the ink pot and quill and begin writing the ‘Mid-Term Report’.
High Definition: Every good team has an extremely good goalkeeper and this team is no exception. Thoughtful, considerate, respectful and never loses anything. Until today.
Mother Brown: Like Ronseal, does what it says on the tin and does it very effectively. Desperate to score at least once this season, but two weeks of Xmas-inflicted reflection should persuade him this is highly unlikely to happen. Ever. Good laugh, but don’t tell him.
Iron Man: Resolute, determined, committed, fearless, but above all, extremely nice. Despite being made from girders.
Wasp: As they said of the late and great Muhammad Ali, ‘Flies like a butterfly, stings like a Wasp’. Has improved hugely over the past four months and done really well at left wing back. Very loud on the bus.
WC: Dribbles beautifully, including when he plays. Enthusiasm for Water-Carrying has declined as Kit-Packing ability has improved. Doesn’t like wearing jumpers to post-match meals.
Issur Danielovitch: Temporary move to centre back on Saturday was his sixth (or seventh) different position of the season to date. So important to have such a versatile player in the squad, though centre forward or goalkeeper may be a step too far. Like Wasp, also loud.
Lawrence Titus Jones: ‘I’m just going out to make a phone call and might be some time.’ Midfielder; full back; centre back; wherever; no prisoners; good player. Fiddles raffle draws.
Slider: Changed technique to skill to impact in the first four weeks and hasn’t looked back. Very important player, creative passer, good feet, but even better sliders.
Lettuce: Works very hard up and down the left side, creating opportunities for others with fine passes or crosses. Salad eater extraordinaire.
El Capitano: Leads by example; passes, scores, tackles. No inch given, none expected. Attends Highnam School, along with many of his girlfriends.
Beamer: One of the hardest-working strikers you’re ever likely to see and long may it continue. Hundreds of beams including forty big ‘uns so far. Divides fractions and converts answers to mixed numbers for fun.
Gloucester 2018/19: High Definition; Slider, Iron Man, Wasp; Isaac, Lawrence, Issur Danielovitch, Lettuce; El Capitano; Beamer, Mother Brown.
Gloucester 2017/18: Adibyor, Anserz, Forts, Kenny, Scarface, Freddie, Tom, Lavvers, Big Sam, Billy, Lacoste, Ollie, Colonel, Jarvis, Sarge, Margaret, Lisa, Weatherman, Smiling Leo Taylor, Nureyev, Smamarrrrrr & Finners. Thanks everyone for coming back – is was great. And Lavvers Senior – where are my shin pads?
Happy days.
