Smurfs and Bandits

Too much!  

Although I found myself looking forward to the match during the afternoon, Wednesday evening was too much for this Boffin blogger. 

For starters, I was required to adjudicate the Smurfs v College match prior to the Boffins v Bandits main event. 

I hate refereeing.  

I'm more of an observer than an interventionist.  The whistle is too slow to my lips.  And when the Smurfs are playing, the ref needs to get on the whistle early to bring them into line. 

Well, that never happened.  Never actually happens in any match.  So what eventuated was not too far away from some of the more classic come-from-behind tackles illustrated here. (NB you might want to turn the sound down.  The music doesn't help convey the message).

Ultimately a bit intimidating for the young college side.  Even mild mannered Mr A couldn't hold back from giving the ref a verbal spray.   (Note to self: do better next time!  And maybe get Mr A a bottle of red?) 

Suitably discomfited, I joined the rest of the Boffins as we lined up against the Bandits.  

But hang on a minute, lads.  Where's Stu the starring super-sub?  

As play began I scanned the pitch in search of the secret weapon.  He hadn't told me that he was going to miss the match.  

Dan had. He'd sent an apology picture: 

The Bandits had seemed under-manned prior to the match.  But they took the pitch with seven men...

The Boffins started well.  We were hitting some sort of rhythm, and finding our way to the Bandits goal time after time.  But every time we were repelled by a player  in blue who I'd never seen before.  His crashing horizontal tackles, taking out player and ball simultaneously, reminded me strongly of our missing......

Stu!  Hang on!  That's our Stu.

That was our Stu.  We'll have to convene some sort of emergency meeting to consider whether we still regard Stu as one of us after he stopped at least three attacks that otherwise would have resulted in certain goals.  He had a pearler of a game.  He didn't sub-off.  Mighty impressive. 

Ant was back, with his ankle recovered, and contributed a goal in the second half after we went to the break nil all.  Bob/John also scored.  Jenks sent headers into the goal mouth from Dave's crosses and corners all night, but I don't think he scored the third goal.  Can't recall who did.  I know for certain it wasn't Dave.  Matt had a wayward crack, but asserted himself in the backline again and consolidated his record of never playing in a losing Boffins side.  Hammy left his wife in labour to play his last guilt-free game of soccer.....

Just kidding.  The baby hasn't come yet.  And anyway, Hammy's not the kind of guy to feel guilty about leaving his wife with the newborn to spend a bit of time with the lads.....

Not when they win three-nil.

Standing up

Boffin Pete's been hurting since Wednesday night.  

But we all agree that the goal was magnificent.  I'm saying he was 20metres out.  There was an opening that no-one else saw.  This ball moved in a graceful horizontal arc through the air, completely bamboozling the keeper with it's spin as, with minimal elevation, it hit the back of the net at head height.  

Shame it was an equaliser, and not a match-winning moment. 

I think we'd all say that we're satisfied, however, with a 1-1 draw against the Smurfs.  

It was clear from the outset that this was a more aggressive Boffins outfit than the mob that let in four goals over ten minutes when these teams last met.  Was it the absence of supportive offspring?  

Perhaps it was the presence of Boffin Matt in defence.  Smurf attackers quaked as the growling battle cry of Matt bore down on them relentlessly.  Wave after wave of attacking Smurfs were mown down in high velocity, high impact tackles that inevitably involved legal foot-on-ball contact.  It was a delight to watch from the vantage point of the goal mouth.  Matt's record of not playing in a losing Boffin team this season remains intact. 

Boffin Stu stood up.  Eager to prove that he has a worthy contribution to make, the Super-Sub was an immoveable object in defence.  Stu did more from the deck than any other Boffin, perfecting lethal sliding tackles that fulfilled what must now surely become the Boffin defensive hallmark:

1.  Ball cleared

2.  Attacking player felled. 

By the time the Smurf attackers made it through the oomph had gone from their shots.  The Doc, in goal for the Boffins, seemed to have the ball on a string.  Apart from on errant effort from Smurf Malcolm in the middle of the first half, Smurf shots seemed to regularly smack into his palms.  He'd also taken a leaf from Matt and Stu's book, and tried a few low-but-legal tackles.  One particular high impact collision has left him, like Boffin Pete, feeling his age a few days later. 

But the memory of Boffin Jenks deploying an f-bomb to dispute a line call seem to be getting him through!  Hilarious aggression.  Good stuff.   

We had luck.  

We had them psyched.  

It was wonderful to see Smurf Jim - lethal in previous encounters -  lacking confidence to shoot.  I could almost see the synapses firing as his eyes darted around.  'The ball's at my feet.  Is that Matt  I hear behind me?  Should I shoot before Stu arrives?   Are we aiming it at the keeper's hands tonight?'

And therein, Boffins, lies my one concern.  Did they play for the draw?  What does this do for our position on the ladder?  Were they playing with a final in mind?  Is there a final?

The night delivered far more than I'd expected.  Well done, Boffins.  

Resuming hostilities

Boffin Dan and I were bottling home-brew this afternoon.  

It may yet turn out that this is not the ideal way to prepare for a match against the Smurfs - scheduled for Wednesday night this week, after a three-week hiatus.  Still, we're good at it, and home brewing - unlike soccer - is something we're going to get better with over time.  So we're playing to our strengths. 

I'd be very happy if our red ale tastes anything like this one:

But outside, it's been raining for 48hrs.  There were torrents of water down the streets this afternoon, and I'm pretty sure that the pitch will be under water.  (The web tells me that Mt William, not far away in the Grampians,  had the most rain in the state 'til 0900 today, with 70mm in 24 hours).  It's shaping up to be a low-skill, high-risk slog against the team-to-beat of this year's competition.  

Yes, the Boffins have relinquished that mantle.  As a team, we're bigger, slower, older and - I think it must be said - less skilled.  

I don't really know how to put a good spin on this.  I'm worried, and I'm not ready to go out on the pitch again.  

I'm hoping for a cancellation.  

I'd rather stay at home and brew.

Fire me up, somebody!

Andrew

Shadows

It's school holidays.

I don't go to school. 

Still, the great mass of the family does, and so is now idle at Port Fairy for a few days while I finish the working week.

There is an upside here for me, though.  I got to begin today at the beach. 

It was still pretty dark at six-thirty as I slid the 'gentle leader' over the snout of my son's beautiful hound. Bono.  It should have been still pretty dark as we shuffled  - Bono now off the lead - down the steps onto South Beach, at low tide. 

But the moon, though not full, was spilling it's light out of the clear sky and all over the sand. 

How unexpectedly delightful.  We were casting moon-shadows at the dawn of a winters day.

At dawn.

Down the other end of the beach - the east -  the sun was poised to overwhelm this fragile beauty with real splendour. 

 

Stu the Super Sub

Boffins Stu and Jenks and I were conversing yesterday afternoon.  Glass of red wine, glorious winter sunshine - check out the view - and Stu sheepishly lets on that he's got a fitness program underway for the inter-season break.  Planning to start running, he says.  

Well, to be more accurate, I think he said he was thinking about it. 

Here's the situation.  We play in the school terms.  So right now, after the 'autumn season', we have a break of three weeks before the 'spring season' kicks off.  

And Boffin Stu's planning a fitness regime for the break.  

It's a plan that may scupper our substitute strategy. 

I am entirely conflicted at this point.  Part of me - the part of me that care's about a mate's physical health and wellbeing - would love to see Stu able to run like a greyhound for the entire 45 minutes of a match.  Get on the treadmill, mate.  Pound out the creek track to the lake and back every morning.  I'll come with you!

But for the sake of the team, I'm thinking that Stu needs to hold off.  Wait 'til summer.  

As things stand at the moment, Stu's a weapon.  He's starting just about every match from the bench, but at the appropriate time comes on as the first - or maybe second sub.  He's into the fray, running hard from the back line to the forward line.  Occasionally someone passes to him.  Sometimes he connects handily with the ball, contributes to some constructive play.  Then he's off again, walking up and down the sideline.  Catching his breath, stretching sore muscles.  

Just as the opposition realises he's on...... he's off.  He's messing with their heads.  

No-one knows how good he is....

Actually, I don't even know how good he is.  Sometimes, it's his own teammates who are just coming to terms with his presence on the field when he's off again.  It's our heads he's messing with. 

But maybe it's best that things stay this way.  Stu the mystery Boffin; the stealth weapon; the Super Sub. 

Let's have another glass of red, Stu.   

Talisman Dan

Every team must have a talisman?

This is not something I realised until I watched the Socceroos play Iraq the other night.  Like everybody else, I enjoyed the contrasting emotions displayed by Tim Cahill towards his coach, Holger Osieck when he was taken of the field with 15 minutes to play (grumpy) when compared with the immediate aftermath of the victory (embarassing, overjoyed, contrite man-hug territory). 


The next day The Age, reviewing the match, referred to Cahill as the 'team talisman'.

What the?

Here's the definition I found:

tal·is·man  (tls-mn, -z-)

n. pl. tal·is·mans

1. An object marked with magic signs and believed to confer on its bearer supernatural powers or protection.

2. Something that apparently has magic power.

So, Boffins, the obvious question is - do we have a Talisman?

I'm building an argument here that our talisman is Dan.  

The criticism has been leveled at me that my last post suggested Dan contributes to our team chiefly as an object of considerable mass and girth that moves relentlessly towards its destination. 

Nothing could be further from the truth.  Nothing was said in the previous blog post that had not previously been given a test-run on the side of the pitch.  So choke on your self-righteous indignation you false defenders of the Dan. 

Here's the truth about Boffin Dan:

Dan is a sportsman

whose hands

or feet 

generally meet the ball

as planned.

Were Dan an ordinary

unskilled man

he'd still be

on the couch

only a fan.

Oh, he does that too. Too much. But he's a player first and foremost.

Each season

Dan

excites the fans

as fitness level

builds

to approximate his skills

and then

the season ends.

But, is the Dan

the Talisman? 

The TalisDan?

He's marked, I'm told

with magic signs.

Discretely, unlike Tim

Cahill.

He'll show you.

If you ask.

His presence and demeanour

Always

Keep the Boffins clean.

Dan is the keeper  - not the goalkeeper

you idiots -

but the keeper of

the Boffin Dream.

For Dan

sport's not the end

simply the means...

Boffin Resurrection

It's good to be a Boffin.  Again.  

Last night the Boffins enjoyed nothing short of a miraculous revival in fortunes on the pitch.  We revelled in a goal-scoring extravaganza.  The coaches brief was to play as if there was only half a pitch - our attacking half.  And while those directions were a little difficult to carry out to the letter, we gave it our best shot.  

I viewed the pitch from the goal for the first half as the boys kept the Bandits goal-less and scored three themselves.  Bob, Dan and Ant (I think) were the first half contributors.  Bob's goal was a wonderful, opportunistic strike from a distance that sailed over the keepers head and into the top left corner, just under the cross bar.  

However, the goal of the night does go to Dan.  Dan's a momentum player.  Give him enough time to build up pace on a run towards goal, and anything can happen.  Late in the second half he took the ball forward with skill - only to be dispossessed untidily just short of the goal.  Dan wasn't turning back, as the ball ricocheted and rebounded of various attackers and defenders to finally connect with his toned-and-ready mid-riff.  This is the moment that the pre-season preparation finally paid off.  All those home brews at Port Fairy over summer had contributed to form Dan's belly into a spring-loaded, goal-shooting weapon.  As Dan's momentum forward continued the ball sank into his gut and rebounded at pace.  There was nothing the keeper could do as it found the back of the net and Dan ground to a halt. 

Goal to the Boffins, as Dan moves to the top of the Golden Gut table. 

We'll be refining that move in practice. Watch this space.


Back in the world of traditional soccer skills, Dave climbed up the Golden Boot table in the second half.  Maybe.  In the attacking half Dave made great position, often finding himself in the goal-mouth, poised to strike.  This was on a night, however, when every ball that came his way there seemed to be going in any-way.  He brushed his foot on a free-kick from Pete that already had every body beat.  He tripped over a shot from Ant that managed to find it's way past him into the net anyway.  So either Dave got two for the night or he got none. 

But best of all, we had fun.  Never mind that we let three easy goals in.  Or that Adam, spec-less, couldn't convince Pete to pass the ball up front.  

It was a night the Boffins were determined to enjoy.  We won 6-3.

May there be plenty more like that.