The Úm Louts Match Report: Week V

Week 5 of the Elms' Summer League saw the mighty warriors of the Úm Louts potted against the evil Rocketeers. We lost in an enthralling encounter but the mood in the camp was not darkened, as the Captain's email will show.

Let me take you back a few years.

Eight years in fact. A time when the ‘Double Dip’ meant nothing to anyone, where the Olympics were no more than a pipe dream, where The News Of The World was core reading on a Sunday. A time when Nokia ruled the roost, Snake 2 occupied our time, careers were being forged by all of us. Schumacher winning every week, Pie Club on a Thursday, Late Night London venues aplenty, before Joe swapped Balham for Brooklyn, and we swapped Joe for Pete.

Anyway, let me set the scene.

February. Morning. Brisk but bright.

Braintree.

There’s a football match going on. A good one. Braintree Old Boys FC are chasing the game, they’re 2-1 down, ten minutes to go. Suddenly, a snap shot forces an equalizer and then, against all expectations, 45 year old Billy Gadd controls a long ball over the top, spins, and, on the volley, lashes home a piledriver.

3-2.

Billy Gadd turns around. He faces his team-mates. He retires. On the spot. He comes off, he’s done it. It’s taken him so long, so much effort, so many years of mediocrity, and yet now, at 45, he’s achieved what he’s set out to do. He’s no Michael Phelps, but he’s got there.

I had that feeling, I had the glory, my shirt was coming off. The Balotelli celebration was at the ready. But then, in the blink of an eye, my moment in the sun was cruelly taken away from me. I did everything right, I controlled a dipping, swerving through ball with my outstep, I spun, I readied, I shot, and I scored.

And it wasn’t given.

Therefore, as Mr. Cheswick so beautifully (and repeatedly) put it in One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest – “I want something done”.

Bernstein pushes for it, Platini’s discussed it, Blatter’s toying with it, but we are still not seeing head-height technology being introduced. We need it, we know we do, and yet, time and again, referees are having a hard time to judge whether the ball has crossed the head-line, resulting in spoilt dreams for everyone.

I implore you all to join with me; write to the FA, your MP, your Mum, anyone who’ll listen, let’s change the world. Let’s get it done.

Now for some memories from yesterdays triumphant 5-0 defeat to The Rocketeers.

Pre Match

·         The new changing rooms that were no better than the old ones. Worse in fact

·         Witnessing a second mutiny in as many hours, and doing my captain’s job of diffusing the situation ad blaming Dan

·         Arriving to find our opponents practicing whilst two of our players were retrieving our lost balls. We must’ve terrified them

·         Me slotting home against Jon, and the stick I gave him for conceding it

·         The Ref calling for The Üm Louts, and Kevin getting excited

·         Me picking the team with authority, and then changing my mind six times

The Match

·         8 minutes of Üm Lout dominance! We were awesome

·         The goal that never was

·         My free-kick goal that also never was. ‘Indirect’ – the worst word in the English language

·         Our shouting. Never has a team shouted so many instructions, all of them encouraging, in multiple languages, to so little avail

·         Darryl’s turn of pace – he’s electric

·         Russell’s pin-point accurate passing

·         Pete and I having an argument on the pitch about him not calling for the ball, when he actually had

·         Dan’s awesome shots, matched by their awesome keeper’s saves. You’re on for the golden boot I swear

·         Me being elbowed in the ribs, and wondering if I’d broken it

·         Kevin always having time on the ball, and no one getting the ball off him. Is it the wild look in his eyes of a man who will do anything, anything to keep possession, or just the fact that he’s huge?

·         Jon having to pick the ball out of the net 5 times, and still being our star performer

Post Match

·         A new pub! And what a pub it was.

·         Dan making friends with the crazy old drunk. We should get him to come and watch us, he could join in with our shouting

·         The Russian barmaid laughing when the Russian gymnast fell over

·         Russell really wanting food but all we had to eat were unchewable blocks of gelatine

·         Me leaving, walking a mile to the station, then realizing Dan had left his wallet and phone in my bag

·         Kevin asking why I didn’t call Dan when I found out I had his wallet and phone

·         Dan accusing the pub of stealing his wallet and phone

·         Dan going upstairs to review the CCTV – Jimmy McNulty style

·         Me getting home at midnight

With love and Ümlouts

 Alex