COWHC Men;s 4s vs Chertsey Thames Valley Men's 2s - 10th Nov 2018

On God’s breakfast table lays a cloth. Cut a little bit of this cloth and you get a piece of Ken George. Cut another piece of this cloth and you get a piece of Max Carracher. It’s God’s favourite table cloth and its composition is that of the Croydon and Old Whitgiftian 4th XI. Today, as strong and versatile as this cloth is, it would need some patching.

The last thing you want before a top of the table clash is to have your squad depleted by injury, holiday and the 3rd XI (again). That was the position we found ourselves in for our cross border trip to the Chertsey badlands. The cry for help went out and it was heard far and wide, even as far back as 2014! Who did I see arriving at the ground but none other than Julian Dean, one of many countless heroes from that day we went to Surbiton, armed with only 10 players, but left with all 3 points! (Well, I guess the heroes can be counted – there were 10 of us). Class is permanent they say and despite his injury setbacks over the years he was to prove as vital to our cause now as he did then. The Rustlers heard the cry and donated their finest family to the cause - both Father and Son Forsdyke joining the front line. Mr Nellemose and Mr Brooks, unlike Scott, sacrificed the lower echelons of the 3s to help out, with Johnny G making another welcome return to partner his lifelong admirer and good friend Mike Ford in the backline. Behind them, Chaundy, a huge presence in our midfield a few weeks ago against Horley, unselfishly sacrificed his love of the outfield to go in goal. We were all hoping he could dust off those old memories of his school goalkeeping days and put in a performance. We were not to be disappointed as he went about earning his honourable POM mention. And maybe, just maybe, Qaz would finally arrive for last week’s game.

Once the whistle went the first 10 minutes passed in a blur of action. I found myself pointing out to young Jake Forsdyke, sitting next to me on the bench, the miracle he was witnessing: Ross Jacobs not only arriving tealess, he was in fact sober! Whether Ross was sober by design or sobered up over the three hours and two Russian-style check points it takes to get to this venue I cannot say. The hockey he displayed though (resulting in his first vote for POM this season) was nothing less than astounding! It was much needed with Scott Netherway having cried off to play for the 3s (thus earning himself one of many votes for DOD). Despite these heroics at the top of the diamond, with our gallant skipper stepping up to cover the bottom of it, Chertsey were smuggling their way through under cover of umpire. The shots came in thick and fast. With each save, however, Chaundy was rekindling his old trade more and more. Chertsey would require something special to beat him and eventually devised a strategy where each attacker held a limb of his and pinned him to the floor. Despite a few Netflix Batman Ninja moves to free himself (it does exist and yes I’m mentioning it as it’s so sh1t someone else can mistakenly join me in the pain of having watched it) they managed a suitably impressive maul to bundle the ball over the line while he was still down. Their crowd, frothing with aggression, cheered them on with simultaneous threats of violence towards us should the result not prove a desirable one. All the while their children roamed wild, gnawing on the steel fence for sustenance. We were up against it. We all looked round to the car park. Would Scotty miraculously appear and run onto the pitch to save us?

No. Too busy making friends with the 3s. Thus he earned himself another vote for DOD. Nellie, unimpressed that I was relaxing on the side line AdamWilliamsesque, ordered me into action. Foz drum rolled off as I waddled on and thus Ben and Nellie’s favourite friendly neighbourhood South African went about helping secure the equaliser. Having already been berated for not correctly mentioning whose pass last week led to the winner I have strived for precision this week. What happened was this: none other than Adam Williams, from a beach in Majorca, sent a 1 125.7 mile pass, via the A75, into their D. The keeper, punching me in the spine in an effort to encourage me out the way, accidentally got his hand stuck in my back fat. Unable to free himself he could only watch as Adam Cady ghosted in and deflected the ball into the net. In the confusion, shocked that I might have scored, the 4s stood in silence. Until I high-fived Cady well done that is. Order was immediately restored and the team sent out its standard roar of approval, disturbing a few shadowy

vultures from their perch on the cross bar. The first half was now over and buoyed by the equaliser we gathered for half time prayers in the goal. We all hoped Scotty would be there to lead us in a few Hail Marys to ward off the evil spirits drifting in from the town swamp. Alas, he was nowhere to be seen. Another DOD vote secured. Skip made a few mentions of how impressive we were given the rag tag collection we resembled but I was not surprised. The 4s set a standard so high that their players usually leap frog the 3s into the 2s once they are discovered. Who knows what this team could do for the likes of Chaundy. Steve Brooks, another honourable POM mention, is starting to look like he has found his purpose in life again. No greater purpose than to play for the 4s.

As the second half began we respected our time honoured tradition of allowing the midfield to open up as much as possible. Ben and Nellie continued to run their shoes into the ground and Jake and Adam were both having mammoth games up front. Try as we might though we could not get the midfield under control. The battle here seesawed until Julian dared to dribble the ball out of defence! That sort of proficiency is not street legal here in the lower leagues of Surrey and the umpire, after spitting in disgust at the cheek of it, rightfully gave a short corner as punishment.

Having already used his hands, arms, legs, feet and head to save with, Chaundy proceeded to use this short corner as an opportunity to show he too had a 4th XI sized p***s. Dropping his pants he swung it in a helicopter fashion and nonchalantly deflected the next shot wide with it. The resulting long corner was to be our downfall though. Chaundy’s balls had popped out at the same time and owing to their size from disuse he unfortunately struggled to put it all away again. Chertsey took advantage of his momentary distraction to put an up and under into the D and their striker, Peter Crouch like, headed the ball home. What was going on? How could the umpire not have seen Crouch was offside? How could so many transgressions go unnoticed? And then it dawned on us! Unlike our other games, the umpires had no one to tell them what they were doing wrong every two minutes! Yet another DOD vote secured for Scotty.

Once again a second equaliser was needed and once again Nellie ordered me onto the pitch. Not that I did much in the lead up to the second goal mind you. Except for bouncing some kid off the ball if you believe Ross Jacobs. Which I don’t. Having been sober for longer than 12 hours more likely he was hallucinating from an increase in blood to his alcohol levels. What would appear hallucinatory to our readers though would be the second goal going in off Ross’s stick! A timely taken strike though it must be said. Once again the excellent Adam Cady was on hand in the build-up. Scott finally appeared, with a few minutes to go, running onto the pitch in his blinding white shirt, easily distinguishable from ours dripping in the blood of battle. Their umpire, worried he may prove the difference between the teams, immediately yellow carded him and he responded by performing a swift about face to his car and drove off to complain to his new Captain, DP. It all happened so quick. Most probably missed it. The final whistle went and the sigh of relief from the Chertsey spectators was audible. Along with the continued crunching of wire of course. As gentlemen we acknowledged their gleeful smirks with simple handshakes, storing the memories of their smug faces to fuel us for the return fixture.

All that was left was for Mike Ford to complement his earlier scrounging of lifts with some scrounging of food (we really must pay our teachers better after Brexit!) - two chocolate bars, some tomatoes and a hastily constructed egg mayo baguette were hurtled in Mike’s direction to distract him as the foolish gentleman who passed us with the teas made a dash for safety.

The season now lies on a knife edge.

Are 2 out of 6 points going to be remembered for securing season-winning hard-earned draws against fellow title contenders away from home?

Or will they be seen as dropped points?

I believe it’s the former and with the expected return of our vice-captain, mentor and umpire’s on-field tutor Scotty we will no doubt start the run into Christmas with a return to winning ways!

Unless our vice-captain prefers it in the 3s of course? Bring back Mike Ford I say.

On that bombshell…..until I’m given the pen again…

POM Jake Forsdyke, Julian Dean

Goals Adam Cady, Ross Jacobs

DOD Scott Netherway (unanimous)