Burridge 0-5 Queens Keep

Date: Saturday 17th October
Venue: Botley Road, Burridge
Competition: Southampton senior cup – round two

(Pic by Roz H)

With less than ten minutes remaining the referee decided to liven up proceedings with a quick blast of yellow cards in Burridge's direction. All of which were inevitably debated by Burridge, if only to show that despite being five goals down they hadn't given up. Queens Keep on the other hand were quite adamant that they weren't going to sink to Burridge's level, which was described by their right-winger as shit. This went some way in revealing that their reasons for doing so weren't based on anything to do with dignity.

Either way, Burridge had been excused. Their petulance was only to be expected, because this game was their cup final, or so said another Queens Keep protagonist. Saying so in the direction of the forty or so spectators who'd travelled from the other end of the M27 to watch his team, as if that was somehow representative of the gulf in class between the two sides. He would've no doubt later admired Burridge's post match restraint in not requesting his autograph. Despite this rather inflated opinion of his own team, there was an essence of truth to what he was saying. Queens Keep currently occupy first place in the Hampshire Premier league, while Burridge operate in the lowest tier eligible to compete in the Southampton senior cup. Meaning that the possibility of Burridge having to concern themselves with trying to fill the thirty-one thousand seats in the final at St Mary's, or indeed turning over today's opponents was, without being too defeatist, fairly non-existent.

Paul Dyke's yellow card merits a special mention. The referee pulled him up for not retreating in his defensive wall position to the desired distance of ten yards quickly enough, prompting him to tell Dyke that he was 'now just taking the piss.' This choice language raised as many eyebrows as it did laughs. I for one was grateful that this particular one chose to ignore my mistimed tackle, that accidentally resulted in my studs landing firmly in the warm snook of my opponent's testicles. Other than an isolated cry of 'dirty cunt' from the sideline, I escaped further punishment. I can only conclude that the referee had mitigated his desire to once again reach for his top pocket. Or just couldn't be arsed to fill in more paperwork that night and miss X-Factor. Queens Keep move a step closer in a competition they aim to win, while Burridge face M&T reserves at home this Saturday.


How Burridge lined up:

GK:Ryan Jones
LB:Paul Dyke
CB:Marc Judd
CB:Kev Willsher
RB:Sammy Hewitt
RM:Justin Newman (Jay Schwodler)
CM:Mark Reeves
CM:Bryn Schwodler
LM:Mark Sanderson
CF:Rich Allan (Sam Schwodler)
CF:Ben Rowe (Lee Fielder)

This week's picture profile is Greg Baker, but the Times have yet to post it online, so it looks like he'll be next week's picture profile now.

Google have picked up on the fact that Burridge have a penalty taking whizz amongst their ranks. Google search, 'the Englishman who doesn't miss penalties' to see what the first result is.

Week after next week's player profile will be Paul Dyke.

Burridge 1-3 Northend

Date: Saturday 3rd October
Venue: Botley Road, Burridge
Competition: Hampshire Cup

Previous meeting: 0-1 win for Northend during a mid-weeker. They had a decent winger who'd give Lee Fielder a run for his money hogging the mirror. He's not playing today.


Kristian Hewitt aggravated his buttocks with a chainsaw. The accident happened last week while cutting down trees at
East Horton Gold Club, where he has spent the last ten of his thirty years keeping greens. The trees were mostly birch and holly. Again and again Hewitt guided the blade through their scaly trunks, whose final contribution was to provide suitable enough resistance to both Hewitt's lower back and buttocks to stop him captaining Burridge in Saturday's Hampshire cup tie with Northend. They take their name from the surname of a man called Barry from Middlesbrough, who used to run the Pensioner's Arms on Carlton Place, before it managed to become an even less appealing place for a pint. He doesn't run that pub any more, nor does he have any affiliation with this team, but still the name remains the same.

During the first half Northend's number six demonstrates an unflinching obedience to the negative stereotype of a closely shaven head by offering his open hand into Justin Newman's face too many times to be considered a coincidence. His total lack of self awareness was exposed when Justin Newman decided to return the favour during a corner kick. The reaction towards Justin Newman is incredulity filtered through poor use of grammar. The referee chose not to pull him up on this, which is a missed opportunity, but he had his hands tied trying to police the laws of the game, large chunks of which were filled with the noise of earnest shouting, that outside the context of a football match are similar in tone to Ian Beale if he'd caught you with your hand in the 'til.

Burridge had played well, but found themselves losing one-nil. Ryan Jones saves a penalty just before half-time and suddenly it becomes clear that Ben Rowe has plainly sexed up his look. Rather than relying on anything as extravagant as gym membership, he's clipped the dark hair a grade shorter, lost a pound or two, and allowed the whiskers on his sallow cheeks to grow the same length as his hair. Later, in the bar, he gains my attention with his 'I've got moody Yves Saint Lauren gear in the boot of my motor' eyes. They glimmer with the possibility that a simple nod of my head will set the motion in place for him to make the pre-arranged kill of my Swiss business partner. His Kent accent only authenticates this fantasy.

During the second half Northend score a quick couple of goals that mean curtains for Burridge. Lee Fielder makes a cameo appearances and scores, then Marc Judd strokes a free-kick onto underside of bar, but the damage has been done. Later at home while chopping carrots I was struck by the powerful urge to conduct a Wikipedia search of
Gary Breen. I remembered that his transfer to Inter Milan in 2002 fell through after he failed a medical. These days he plays for Barnet, such are the fine shades of here and there that colour our lives.


Picture Profile

This week it's Rich Allan, which you can see by clicking here. You may notice that they've called him Rick in the title, which suggests that there is a relationship in place between the Times and Rich, or Rick. Next week it's Paul Andrews.


This week's Burridge line-up by Pete Lyons was:

4-4-2 formation:

Goalie: Ryan Jones
Right-back: Sammy Hewitt
Centre-back: Kev Willsher (Sam Schwodler)
Centre-back: Paul Dyke
Left-back: Mark Emerson Sanderson
Right mid: Jay Schwodler
Centre mid: Rich Allan
Centre mid: Justin Newman
Left mid: Marc Judd (Greg Baker)
Forward: Ben Rowe
Forward: Bryn Schwodler (Lee Fielder)

Sub: Mark Reeves

Hythe & Dibden 3-1 Burridge AFC

Date: Saturday 12th September
Venue: Jones Lane, Hythe
Previous meeting: 1-4 that sealed Hythe's title win.

The idea of living dangerously to Burridge striker, Paul Andrews, could easily be represented by being struck by the impulse to say yes to ten quid's cash back at the supermarket and blowing it frivolously on takeaway chicken tikka masala, nan bread, poppadoms, and those little tubs of gloop we're often guilty of filling ourselves up with before getting served our main. The activities Paul carries out on a regular basis are: making toast, drinking tea, watching Zulu, going to the toilet and drinking tea. Bearing this in mind, one can only assume Paul's neighbour is embarking on the final stages of a nervous breakdown. Thirty-one years on Earth had been inadequate in preparing me for the news that Paul had received a letter from the council advising him that his neighbour had complained about the noise he makes shutting his cupboard doors.

(All pics Roz H) Paul Andrews (number 17) tip toes towards Hythe's goal.

Within minutes of kick off Bryn Schwodler scored a very good goal. Hythe's goalkeeper shuffled back desperately to stop the ball floating over his head as though faced with the dilemma of attempting to catch a tennis ball perilously close to a cliff edge, during an ill advised impromptu game of cricket. Once he'd retreated as far as the precipice of the goal line he came to a sudden halt. The goal acted as a reminder that the idea of Bryn being a good footballer wasn't just an old wives' tale. Over the years fellow players have shook their heads in disappointment at Bryn's lack of application to the game, as if believing his preference of idly picking his hands on the halfway line over wilfully chasing down opposing full backs had somehow denied him a footballing career with the Moneyfields and Havant & Waterlooville's of this world.

Bryn Schwodler realises he's way out of his depth in the country dancing pageant.

His lax attitude's usually met by a cross word or two in his direction. Having never retaliated to the verbal joust thrown his way has given some the impression that Bryn simply doesn't care, but I think I know better. This silence isn't a sign of apathy, but a flashback to the countless long nights he's spent sat starring into space, oblivious of the hour hand fast approaching three in the morning as he wrestles with his own footballing mortality. Although on cold reflection the likelihood is that he just sits in playing Mario kart, one hopes lobbing a football over the head of a goalkeeper who clearly has an eye for dessert will draw a line in the sand somehow on the subject of Bryn's attitude to tracking back.

Burridge find a suitable area to set up their picnic.

Ryan Jones reflexes are slightly late today, but unlike Bryn, the young man is not open season to hecklers. Mainly because berating the Jones boy would be no more beneficial than scolding your young nephew, who having waved aside several toilet breaks in his eagerness to reach Thorpe Park, has wet the interior of your Mazda, within tantalising close range of the turn off to the service station. It was an accident of judgement, of course, and the experience of having to remove his soiled underpants in the car park will serve him in far better stead for the future than a tanning in front of a coach load of pensioners ever will.

Chinese Monkey Allan's surprise new direction into art

Seeing as Burridge showed little interest in scoring a second goal, it's entirely possible they scored their first too early on in the game. Holding onto the lead for most of the game against last year's champions was out of the question after Hythe scored two before half time. It's good to see that the Echo haven't been put off by Burridge's lowly position last year, by tipping them as this year's wild card in the senior division. If they're led to be believed Warsash will finish first, Hiltingbury second and Redbridge third. That probably won't happen. Although the Echo's predictions were rather put into context by the teasing headline at the foot of the page that read, 'Jayne Campbell gives her predictions for the veterans' division in next week's Echo.' Rarely have capital letters looked so futile.