Last night was a wonderful example for me of the restorative qualities of football. I had had a miserable couple of weeks as we had lost away twice and thus dropped back from top two contenders to top six possibilities, but so what's new? That's what teams do. No. the results were minor concerns to me compared with how I have been conceiving the club to be acting. For reasons I cannot fathom the administration seems to have withdrawn into some cone of silence. Not apparently talking to the press, the BSSA or anybody else much. All very frustrating and I had reached the point of deciding to absolutely nothing directly to help what I consider the undeserving.- not that would be likely to worry them one iota. I have to say I weakened as soon as I entered the ground and bought a beer - profits to the STRIKERS.
Once again the drought breaking qualities of the team were in evidence with heavy rain clouds glowering overhead as I entered about ten minutes before the recently revised kick off time of 4.15PM. The first mention of this to Joe Public was in small print the Courier Wail on Friday and my own son, a season ticket holder, didn't know until I phoned him Saturday morning. The club were to have notified season ticket holders by mail or e-mail. I haven't got my word yet, but my friend Jim did receive a letter in time for him to make it. So, considering that, the weather and the Rugby that same evening it wasn't surprising that the crowd was (generously IMHO) stated as 2100.
I must say I was looking forward to seeing the Power who were allegedly so good and the return (as usual as we are basically a nursery club it seems) of two old boys - Clint Bolton and Fernando Rech.
I thought Parra looked very lively early and we quite sluggish. They seemed to be penetrating well, but young Dodd was doing very well yet again, but I thought we missed the Red Baron for a good while. After a few minutes there was breakthrough, a bit of a nudge on Higgins, our number two keeper, and a suspicion of off side and we were one down. I thought to myself that perhaps Power are that good, but to our youngsters' credit, they kept their heads up and got stuck in. Then down came the deluge with accompanying lightening to the East. The grandstand gutter could not cope and leaked like our defence did last season. The ground however coped really well and both side played some enterprising and attractive football without too many shots.. Just before half time Bolton fumbled, Moon scored and we were level. At the break I thought we might get something out of this one.
Early in the second half again Power scored a good goal. Our midfield had not been very effective all night and a cross from the right found, naturally enough, an unmarked Fernando just outside the box and he struck a corker into the top right. 1-2, bugger! To their credit the Banana Army gave the old Fernando chant in appreciation and he seemed very subdued in his celebration. He gave an almost surreptitious wave which a lot more than Clint did despite our repeated request all through the second half. We had to be content with "Dodgy keeper" as the second equaliser again resulted from a fumble.
About twenty minutes from the end, after Higgins had kept us in it with two top saves, one of those inexplicable changes came over the game and the STRIKERS began to run them ragged. Josh Rose brought on and he galvanised our attack and he scored our second, then curled an absolute beauty low and just inside the post to make it 3-1. I don't think I have seen our lads celebrate a goal more enthusiastically - and we weren't far behind in the stands. I expected a nail biting last few minutes, but not so. We continued to stick it too them and were rewarded when a break though by Brownlie resulted in a tap in for Rose's second. Home and hosed, three loverly points and unbeaten at home still.
I have to confess that the therapy provided by the team worked a treat and I left in very good spirits - if only the administration could do half as well.
Chant of the night I can't recall accurately, but is concerned the diminutive Bounavoglia ("Too short, too slow") and Michael Jackson. I'm very sorry prior commitments will keep me away from the Kernigets game next week.