A GPSFA Christmas Carol, by Charles Wixens
Andy Cratchit paced up and down the kitchen area trying to work up the courage to ask Ebenezer Owen for Christmas Day off. After having worked every day for the past 11 years for the GPSFA without a break, he felt he deserved it. As Ebenezer Owen limped up the pathway, Cratchit blurted out his request. Owen was not impressed and pointed out that Cratchit had a continuous ten-year rolling contract and he should honour it to the day. Cratchit pointed out that his family were strangers to him and he needed to let Little Luke know he was still his father (where have I heard that before? – Editor). He also needed to look after and feed Tiny Mark. “But Tiny Mark is six foot ten,” countered Ebenezer.
Reluctantly Owen agreed and went to leave. A seven-foot (not including his garish bobble hat) Tiny Mark approached him and gave him a bear hug and in a deep booming voice declared his love for his Uncle Ebenezer. Owen slowly released himself and tried his best to straighten out his further crushed and crooked fingers. Cratchit celebrated by changing into his fifth different coloured GPSFA polo shirt of the day, a pink and lime green number.
Watching this encounter was wise old sage and GPSFA Vice-Chairman Adrian Marley. The vice-counter server warned Owen that he needed to mend his ways and do the right thing. As Owen limped away, the vice-B team coach proclaimed that Owen would very soon receive visits from three sets of ghosts and he should heed their message. Vice-linesman Marley was sure Owen would listen to him as he knew he was intelligent; after all, he had just gained himself a six-week sabbatical from the kitchen by feigning an injury whilst at his chateau in France.
Owen slept soundly that night, until he heard a terrible noise and awoke with a start. Three scary ghosts appeared before him, one reading The Times, the second eating a flapjack (and with a substantial file under his arm) and the third holding a hammer. “What time is it and what do you want?” asked Owen. The hammer ghost was first to speak. “It’s four o’clock, but I just want you to know I was here at ten past three and I came off my sick bed to do this.” “What’s wrong with you?” enquired Owen innocently. 43 minutes later all were now aware of many more wonders of medical science than they had ever thought possible.
“We are the ghosts of Christmas Past and are here to help you do the right thing and spend your pension lump sum correctly,” said the ghost with the file and many flapjack crumbs in his beard.
“Yes, I think you should buy every player a pair of plain black boots, so it’ll be just like the old days; you need to pay for English language and Times crossword lessons for all the coaches and make it compulsory that all GPSFA personnel eat a Phaal curry at least once a month,” barked the tallest ghost as he finally looked up from his paper.
“Hold still,” a voice suddenly yelled from the dark, before there was a sudden flash. “What are you doing here Hickey? You’re not in this story,” shouted the paper-carrying ghost. “I know, but there’s a photo opportunity on hand, so I thought I’d pop along,” replied the man with the camera.
“For my part, we need your money to fund a root and branch investigation into administration within schools’ football,” said the ghost with a second flapjack in his hand. The third ghost was keen to re-lay the pitch and erect a seven-foot fence around it so no-one could actually go on his grass. Ebenezer Owen shuddered as he watched the three spirits and Hickey fade from view.
Owen made his way to the Longlevens ground the next morning, contemplating the previous night’s visitation. Seven-foot two-inch Tiny Mark towered above him and asked if his hip was playing up. Owen just grunted and limped off to check if Andy Cratchit had enough work to do in the kitchen, where Cratchit was sporting a cerise and turquoise polo and practising his Bruce Forsyth impersonation to good effect. On seeing Owen, he enquired if he had had a ghostly visit as Adrian Marley had predicted. Owen did not respond and headed off to paint some plants yellow and black.
That night Owen jumped into bed and screamed - he had forgotten about his bad hip. It took a while for him to fall asleep, but as soon as he had he was again woken by three more spirits. The ghosts of Christmas Present stood before him. The one trying to work out what the small item that was ringing in his hand was spoke first, second and third and so on until eventually, ghost two looked up from reading his Learn to Drive manual and told Owen that he should do the right thing. Owen ignored him and asked the jabbering ghost, “What is that thing you are holding?” “It’s a mobile phone,” said the second spirit impatiently. “Now can we get back to the point please? We think you should do the right thing and spend your pension money wisely.”
The third ghost went to shake Owen by the hand but was very disappointed, as his grip went straight through Owen’s outstretched digits. Regaining his composure after his first- ever failed handshake, he informed Ebenezer that he had written a seventy-two-point plan on how to move the GPSFA forward. The gang of three started going through the plan: training manuals for all, reserve kits, specialised coaching, chauffeurs to be made available…the list went on and on. He started going through each item individually just as Hickey appeared, his camera flash being so strong that the spirits disappeared. “For once I’m thankful to see you Hickey,” a relieved Owen said.
Ebenezer Owen kept away from as many people as he could the following day and kept himself busy by counting the blades of grass on the pitch with his crooked fingers. He recorded the results on his spreadsheet and was pleased that an increase of 415 over the past seven days had occurred.
Owen tried his best not to go to sleep that night, but inadvertently picked up the Chairman’s health and safety report and was soon snoring away. The three ghosts of Christmas Future burst into the room, all on their mobiles, fingers tapping away furiously. “Hey Eb, I’ve got some great design ideas for you. Take a look at this mock-up of what the pavilion could look like with yellow and black splodges on,” said the ghost dressed in pyjamas and a Liverpool scarf.
“It needs to be pink,” retorted the female ghost. “That way we may be able to attract more female coaches to the association.” “I think you need some counselling,” replied the pyjama-wearing spirit. Actually Eb, I can counsel all the coaches both before and after matches for you at a good price,” suggested the pyjama ghost enthusiastically.
The third ghost attempted to get the discussion back on track by detailing how expanding the training hours and starting up a girls’ development squad may help, but then wanted all coaches to grow bushy beards to increase team spirit within the GPSFA. The female spook just shook her head.
Pyjama ghost pulled a stupid smile as Hickey appeared and then photo-bombed the picture of the other two ghosts’ shot. Owen suddenly felt old and fell back to sleep.
Ebenezer Owen awoke on Christmas Day and knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to mend his ways. He was going to do the right thing. He felt good. He jumped out of bed and screamed out in pain, his hip unable to take the jarring, but he was still extremely happy. He jumped onto the Stanna stairlift and screamed once more. He screamed again at the bottom of the stairs when he jumped off the lift, but was still hugely excited.
He ran, screamed and limped through town until he saw what he was looking for. 7’ 5” Tiny Mark, Andy Cratchit and Adrian Marley faced him. Marley asked him if he was going to mend his ways and do the right thing for the GPSFA. “I will, and I am absolutely sure it is the right thing to do,” came the surprising reply. He then pushed past the assembled trio and limped in to the swanky ‘Hip Replacement and Finger Straightening Centre for Old Has-Been Cricketers’.
Adrian Marley nodded his approval, Andy Cratchit straightened his fourth polo of the day and 7’ 6” Tiny Mark removed his bobble hat in respectful silence; even Pyjama Ghost stood still for a moment…and Hickey captured every phase on film to sell at five quid a time.
Merry Christmas.
Reluctantly Owen agreed and went to leave. A seven-foot (not including his garish bobble hat) Tiny Mark approached him and gave him a bear hug and in a deep booming voice declared his love for his Uncle Ebenezer. Owen slowly released himself and tried his best to straighten out his further crushed and crooked fingers. Cratchit celebrated by changing into his fifth different coloured GPSFA polo shirt of the day, a pink and lime green number.
Watching this encounter was wise old sage and GPSFA Vice-Chairman Adrian Marley. The vice-counter server warned Owen that he needed to mend his ways and do the right thing. As Owen limped away, the vice-B team coach proclaimed that Owen would very soon receive visits from three sets of ghosts and he should heed their message. Vice-linesman Marley was sure Owen would listen to him as he knew he was intelligent; after all, he had just gained himself a six-week sabbatical from the kitchen by feigning an injury whilst at his chateau in France.
Owen slept soundly that night, until he heard a terrible noise and awoke with a start. Three scary ghosts appeared before him, one reading The Times, the second eating a flapjack (and with a substantial file under his arm) and the third holding a hammer. “What time is it and what do you want?” asked Owen. The hammer ghost was first to speak. “It’s four o’clock, but I just want you to know I was here at ten past three and I came off my sick bed to do this.” “What’s wrong with you?” enquired Owen innocently. 43 minutes later all were now aware of many more wonders of medical science than they had ever thought possible.
“We are the ghosts of Christmas Past and are here to help you do the right thing and spend your pension lump sum correctly,” said the ghost with the file and many flapjack crumbs in his beard.
“Yes, I think you should buy every player a pair of plain black boots, so it’ll be just like the old days; you need to pay for English language and Times crossword lessons for all the coaches and make it compulsory that all GPSFA personnel eat a Phaal curry at least once a month,” barked the tallest ghost as he finally looked up from his paper.
“Hold still,” a voice suddenly yelled from the dark, before there was a sudden flash. “What are you doing here Hickey? You’re not in this story,” shouted the paper-carrying ghost. “I know, but there’s a photo opportunity on hand, so I thought I’d pop along,” replied the man with the camera.
“For my part, we need your money to fund a root and branch investigation into administration within schools’ football,” said the ghost with a second flapjack in his hand. The third ghost was keen to re-lay the pitch and erect a seven-foot fence around it so no-one could actually go on his grass. Ebenezer Owen shuddered as he watched the three spirits and Hickey fade from view.
Owen made his way to the Longlevens ground the next morning, contemplating the previous night’s visitation. Seven-foot two-inch Tiny Mark towered above him and asked if his hip was playing up. Owen just grunted and limped off to check if Andy Cratchit had enough work to do in the kitchen, where Cratchit was sporting a cerise and turquoise polo and practising his Bruce Forsyth impersonation to good effect. On seeing Owen, he enquired if he had had a ghostly visit as Adrian Marley had predicted. Owen did not respond and headed off to paint some plants yellow and black.
That night Owen jumped into bed and screamed - he had forgotten about his bad hip. It took a while for him to fall asleep, but as soon as he had he was again woken by three more spirits. The ghosts of Christmas Present stood before him. The one trying to work out what the small item that was ringing in his hand was spoke first, second and third and so on until eventually, ghost two looked up from reading his Learn to Drive manual and told Owen that he should do the right thing. Owen ignored him and asked the jabbering ghost, “What is that thing you are holding?” “It’s a mobile phone,” said the second spirit impatiently. “Now can we get back to the point please? We think you should do the right thing and spend your pension money wisely.”
The third ghost went to shake Owen by the hand but was very disappointed, as his grip went straight through Owen’s outstretched digits. Regaining his composure after his first- ever failed handshake, he informed Ebenezer that he had written a seventy-two-point plan on how to move the GPSFA forward. The gang of three started going through the plan: training manuals for all, reserve kits, specialised coaching, chauffeurs to be made available…the list went on and on. He started going through each item individually just as Hickey appeared, his camera flash being so strong that the spirits disappeared. “For once I’m thankful to see you Hickey,” a relieved Owen said.
Ebenezer Owen kept away from as many people as he could the following day and kept himself busy by counting the blades of grass on the pitch with his crooked fingers. He recorded the results on his spreadsheet and was pleased that an increase of 415 over the past seven days had occurred.
Owen tried his best not to go to sleep that night, but inadvertently picked up the Chairman’s health and safety report and was soon snoring away. The three ghosts of Christmas Future burst into the room, all on their mobiles, fingers tapping away furiously. “Hey Eb, I’ve got some great design ideas for you. Take a look at this mock-up of what the pavilion could look like with yellow and black splodges on,” said the ghost dressed in pyjamas and a Liverpool scarf.
“It needs to be pink,” retorted the female ghost. “That way we may be able to attract more female coaches to the association.” “I think you need some counselling,” replied the pyjama-wearing spirit. Actually Eb, I can counsel all the coaches both before and after matches for you at a good price,” suggested the pyjama ghost enthusiastically.
The third ghost attempted to get the discussion back on track by detailing how expanding the training hours and starting up a girls’ development squad may help, but then wanted all coaches to grow bushy beards to increase team spirit within the GPSFA. The female spook just shook her head.
Pyjama ghost pulled a stupid smile as Hickey appeared and then photo-bombed the picture of the other two ghosts’ shot. Owen suddenly felt old and fell back to sleep.
Ebenezer Owen awoke on Christmas Day and knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to mend his ways. He was going to do the right thing. He felt good. He jumped out of bed and screamed out in pain, his hip unable to take the jarring, but he was still extremely happy. He jumped onto the Stanna stairlift and screamed once more. He screamed again at the bottom of the stairs when he jumped off the lift, but was still hugely excited.
He ran, screamed and limped through town until he saw what he was looking for. 7’ 5” Tiny Mark, Andy Cratchit and Adrian Marley faced him. Marley asked him if he was going to mend his ways and do the right thing for the GPSFA. “I will, and I am absolutely sure it is the right thing to do,” came the surprising reply. He then pushed past the assembled trio and limped in to the swanky ‘Hip Replacement and Finger Straightening Centre for Old Has-Been Cricketers’.
Adrian Marley nodded his approval, Andy Cratchit straightened his fourth polo of the day and 7’ 6” Tiny Mark removed his bobble hat in respectful silence; even Pyjama Ghost stood still for a moment…and Hickey captured every phase on film to sell at five quid a time.
Merry Christmas.
