Southampton Trophyman Cup
Green Park, Millbrook
Paul Dyke celebrated his birthday by scoring an own goal. He wanted to put the ball out for a corner kick. Instead he put Bush Hill one-nil up. He was at full stretch. There was nothing he could do. Jonesy was in goal for Burridge. There was nothing he could do either. Bush Hill won the Southampton Premier League last year. Before the game they stood linking arms in a huddle. They all shouted something as it broke. It sound liked kicking out time in town. Burridge were taking pot shots at Jonesy. He wore a baseball cap to protect his view into the low sun. There was no escaping it. He looked like he'd escaped from a Young Offender Institution.
Bush-Hill were never in trouble, unless Burridge scored. It happened twice. Both times Bush Hill's manager went bat shit. When Bryn Schwodler's shot against the post he just went ape-shit. There was a consistency in his shit goings. The referee looked like he needed a holiday. Millbrook wasn't on the short list. There's no beach, nor are there any sights to speak of.
Jay Schwodler got hacked in two because he hacked somebody else. The hacking was done by Bush Hill's centre forward. His hair was cut right down to the wood. His and Marc Judd's hair combined amounted to even less than one imagines to be found on Gary Lineker's ball-bag. He had the number 99 on the back of his red shirt. Nobody asked him if it was because he liked ice-cream. The referee did not send him off. He was too busy thinking about his holidays. Jay lay in the mud moaning for water. Burridge manager Pete Lyons, ran onto the pitch with the bucket of cold water and gave Jay the wet sponge treatment. It seemed to do the trick. It's a versatile liquid.
Bryn Schwodler's goal for Burridge was good. His brother Sam's was better. He was nearer the half way line than the goal when he shot. Few players enjoy their goals as much as Sam. He shouted at no one in particular on the sideline. His voice was full of four letter words. The only ones that made you ever open a dictionary when you were young. It made little difference to the result. Next week Burridge play Wellow. It should be easier going. Although you're not supposed to say that.
Burridge lined up in a good old fashioned 4-4-2 formation.
GK:Ryan Jones
RB:Sam Hewitt
CB:Paul Dyke
CB:Kev Willsher
LB:Mark Sanderson
RM:Jay Schwodler
CM:Justin Newman
CM:Rich Allan
LM:Kristian Hewitt (C ) (Marc Judd)
CF:Ben Rowe (Paul Andrews)
CF:Bryn Schwodler (Sam Schwodler)
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Looking back (bringing back the blog)
I haven't posted here since 2012 – that’s five years of not blogging. The blog is/was about Burridge AFC, the football team I played f...
9 comments:
Awesome.
I think I'll write a post about Bush Hill and a wet sponge. It might differ slightly from yours.
Sx
Are you saying Bush Hill's striker would've been better off wearing the number 69? Too smutty? No? Good, I'll continue.
Do you know what? It's only just come to my attention that the Southampton league champions have a funny name.
I've only flown a kite once - on Parliament Hill about 15 years ago. It was bloody hard work - you have to run!
Hello French Fancy.
Kites? Decided to cut the gin lose early today, have we? Good for you. And welcome. We all like France.
To all Burridge players. Are your boots filthy? Would you like them cleaned and polished for the next game?
Then hand them over to me. I will clean them.
There will be a £3 fee for each pair. £5 for a two pairs.
It's terrible when goal scorers run wild and lose their heads. None of the greats did that. And Paul Dyke sounds as if he was coached by his brother Dick van.
Oh dear, still there must be some consolation in defeat. If only the joy of open air swearing, which I believe can be quite fun.
To Gorilla: You're right. What happened to the handshake?
To Madame D: It's not even the swearing, just the shouting. You can shout for the whole game. It's very theraputic.
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