Before the game even kicked off there was enough excitement to satisfy the three supporters and a man walking his dog. Ian Bartlett’s efforts to ensure the game went ahead had been titanic, after Rocklands d their pitch unplayable at 10.30. I can envisage him appearing on Anglia News with a phone bill for £1,786.37 declaring there is no way possible he could have made all of those calls in just one morning.
Whilst Ian speed dialled every number programmed into his phone in a bid to rally all of the players, Phil sped round all of the sports shops in the City purchasing match balls and bibs. And why, I hear you cry? This was all courtesy of Ecky, who despite ringing everybody to check they were okay had forgotten that we had a game and had the kit, the balls and the team’s mojo in his garage. Typical of the French to disappear without a trace when faced with a muddy battlefield. And where was he, wine tasting with the Austrian Ambassador in a bid to create an alliance that could eventually defeat the English when the next great war comes.
And so, we had a team, we had nice shiny balls, ooer missus, we had a ref, we now had kit, albeit in the form of bibs which swamped Phil Law, yet hugged Fez’s figure like a “man boob panty girdle”, but we didn’t have a pitch. In over 40 years of playing football I have turned up with some great kit, red boots, blue boots, go faster shin pads, Vaseline (for nipple protection), pile cream (for the obvious), goalkeeping gloves (in case I got the call up), but never a garden fork. The pitch was a quagmire! If the groundsman lived locally he would have been forced to tape it off and erect Danger Signs stating ice and quicksand. The opposition were not keen, George didn’t look keen in his hat, but we hadn’t come this far, up went the nets, in went the pitchfork, out came the hairdryers and then Eddie arrived. It was the all important pitch inspection, twenty two players waited with baited breath. I’ve seen a few pitch inspections in my time, did he get out the frostometer........no, did he see if it would take a stud........, no, did he check the weather forecast................no, could he stub out his cigarette in the centre circle......yes.....and that was all that mattered, game on!
Looking like some training match with the reserves in yellow we kicked off and with the words, “play all of your passes firmly” ringing in everyone’s ears, George opened the match with a pass that travelled four yards and stopped dead in a puddle. As Ian was the only one with goggle’s on we sent him in to retrieve the ball and continued the match. Despite both teams struggling with the conditions the match was played in the right spirit and in conditions which could have been dangerous I’m pleased to say there are no injuries to report.
Cringleford had much more of the ball due to the fact that they had learnt quickly to congregate near the biggest puddles where the ball constantly stopped. Despite having most of the possession and Nick and Fraser playing well on the wings, the final ball lacked a little “je ne sais quois” – I blame the French, or the fact that the ball was so heavy from the time it spent in the mud and water that it resembled something out of the fifties and the only thing it lacked was a pig’s bladder and some laces for good measure. No one could get it off the ground. The defence rarely looked troubled other than when they had a glimpse of what Massood’s ridiculous long john’s which got heavier and lower as the game went on. Having said that what he can’t deliver in the fashion stakes, he certainly made up for as he delivered the best cross of the game as he found Richard Fairman at the far stick who sort of volleyed/bundled the ball in off the post. One –nil to the boys in the baggy yellow things.
Now it was really a competition, sod the game, who could get the muddiest. Bartlett set the early pace with a foray into the opposition half that ended in a wall of spray and 8.5 for a good covering especially to the face and Edgar David glasses. Shaul not to be outdone tried a ridiculous lunge after the ball went out of play and despite getting a good covering to the top half and a fair bit of mud down his lucky football pants was disqualified for over dramatisation.
The second half was all about the next goal and with the amount of pressure Cringleford had, you felt it had to come, George fired wide.....well wide.....very very wide, so wide that Sharred would have been proud. Richard and Ian up front had several chances but could not convert them. Rocklands had a rare attack, Mark forced the striker wide and in a moment of sheer madness he crossed. Everybody froze, well it was freezing, unfortunately Olly’s usual silky footwork got caught up in the mud and the ball sailed into the top of the net. In a rare translation I am sure I heard Olly say, “ I thought I had it covered”. One – One.
The next goal was crucial. Rockland flexed their muscles but on a day difficult for defenders the Cringleford back four played one of their best games ever and held firm. And it was one of the back four who got the all important second goal. Mark broke from defence, played a sweet left-footed ball out to the wing and when the cross came in it was a three way bundle with the goalie, Mark and Mass all going for the same ball. I am not sure if Mass impeded Mark’s progress but he certainly impeded the ‘keeper when Mark fired in the loose ball, two – one.
Credit to Rockland, cup game, 15 minutes to go, two one down, they decided to do what every good team should do in those circumstances, commit footballing suicide, move your best defender up front and play the offside trap. It was open season for Cringleford Vets and Fairman filled his boots. All of a sudden things were going right for Cringleford and wrong for Rockland as Fairman’s long range effort stung the keeper’s fingers and he could only parry it in off the post, three – one.
The fourth was a strange goal, as Massood and Fraser broke free of the defence’s off-side trap, they fought to see who would take the ball on and it was Massood who won. He took the ball on, cleverly rounded the keeper and the puddles and tapped the ball into the empty net. Now if that had of been me (which I know is very unlikely), I would have stopped it on the line, got down on my hands and knees and headed the ball into the net. Anyway, four – one.
Everyone tried to get in on the act, Bartlett sensed his first goal and started to play on the right wing, Fraser came close from the narrowest of angles, Fez broke free of the defence, only for the linesman to cruelly spoil his moment of glory. Shaul also tried to get in on the act and as he continued his run into the box following a sweeping ball to Fairman, the forward hungry for his hat-trick ignored his team mate who was in acres of space at the far post and greedily fired a speculative strike to the near. His only saving grace from his failure to pass was that the ball found the net and as he went to great lengths to point out, Shaul would only have missed anyway, if he had passed! Five –one.
The conditions had made it a tough game, the opposition were spirited, but the defending champions had gone through to the second round convincingly.
