Wilderspool Causeway

You have one of the biggest military arsenals in the world, an army of 690,000 and a logistics labour force of up to 12.6 million people, none of whom can particularly leave the country. What’s the next step for the loopy autocrat with the dodgy Barnet? A leaflet drop. South Korea. Pop down to Prontaprint. You can imagine the song going around in Kim’s head:

Monday left me broken,
Tuesday I was through with hoping,
Wednesday I popped down to the printers,
Thursday we’re pam-ph-let-ing.
Thank the stars it’s Friday,
Dropping a hydrogen bomb on Saturday,
Guess it’s to the barbers again on Sunday.
I’ll be shaving my rug.

Today’s game was all about preparation. Not exactly inspired by Kim Jong Un, but in his wake, a group of us thought ‘F it. Let’s leaflet Burghfield.’ Let’s absolutely flood them with pamphlets about Wokingham. Let’s overwhelm them with tracts. Let’s extol the virtues of Winnersh, the stagnant ponds of Emmbrook. Tell them about Crockhamwell Road in Woodley: the traffic calming measures of Arborfield. Let’s become New Wave Tractarians of Central Berkshire, befuddling minds with inventories of Molly Millars Lane warehouses and the iron curtain of the mind which separates Lower Earley from civilisation.

This game was won, if not entirely on the doorsteps of Burghfield and Burghfield Common, then certainly on the Forest School training pitch. After last week’s (frankly woeful) performance, coaches Michael and Peter spent most of the session subverting FA directives in their attempt to toughen the team up. You are not allowed to explicitly teach 6-year-olds how to tackle, but you are allowed to model how to ‘press’ and ‘close down’ the opposition.

The team followed this plan to the letter, proving my beanie hat theory to be a bit of a red herring. The problem with not being able to tackle, though, is that you end up fouling. After Connor guided us to a 2 goal lead, Jack Parry received a STRAIGHT RED CARD for felling a country bumpkin who was through on goal. Except he didn’t get a red card because just as you’re not allowed to tackle, you’re also not allowed to be punished for fouling. This leads to an absurd situation in which almost anything goes, with players lunging in ‘all over the shop’, as my dad would say. So Jack lived on, and went on to score 2 goals of his own. Their bedraggled manager seemed upset before the game had even started (misfiring tractor? Udder problems?) and left the sanctuary of his urban technical area to prowl around the pitch in justified disgust. Fittingly, they scored from the resulting free kick. The foul was an accident, but maybe a sin bin should be introduced: 5 minutes out as a balm for the aggrieved.

Wokingham and Emmbrook were relentless. Evan- off colour with asthma and shinpad deprivation- did enough Cruyff turns and Jenas jinks to win the Skills Trophy, but it was really the drive and all-consuming passion of Connor, Mark, Ciara, Jack and Amelia which won the day: Amelia even managed to successfully execute a backheel pass across our own six yard line to get the keeper out of trouble at one point. Everything they tried seemed to work. A lot of credit has to go to coaches Michael and Peter Mulvaney for identifying last week’s problems and arriving at training with a clear strategy that the players were able to understand and then execute in the game. Sorry Burghfield, but that’s life in the metropolis. As Neil Hannon once recommended: ‘Wise up little souls. Join the doomed army. Fight the good fight. Wage the unwinnable war. Elegance against ignorance. Difference against indifference. Wit against shit.’

Coach Michael’s Man of the Match speech was slightly puzzling though. He said ‘Mark, you reminded me of yourself.’ Deep, but maybe a little cryptic, a little backhanded for a six-year-old?