The Hurricanes must have visited the finest linen draper’s in the precinct. In splendid sky blue against Wokingham in orange in black, it must have been the most attractive spectacle in Woodley this morning, by far, but it was also deeply wet and miserable.
The weather forecast had helpfully predicted ‘wind, rain and sun’ after the revelation of roadworks on a trunk road north of Crewe, and it was as difficult as ever to find any semblance of meaning or purpose in the world around us as traffic queued for Halford’s, Homebase and The Oracle, yet again.
The Woodley teams point to some specific moments of historical note, however, as they’re named after the local aerodrome as well as the factory which produced this country’s first major batch of Biros: hence we have Woodley United Hurricanes, Woodley Spitfires, Headley Road Internal Ink Reservoir Rovers, Drover’s Way Tungsten Carbide Quick-Drying Brass Sockets FC and the Sandford Lane Jotters, all of whom unfortunately play in a different league to us.
As kick-off drew nigh, Coach Michael was running perilously late, leading to 8 of us gathering around a wet and bedfuddled group of Wokingham players in an attempt to decide who would play in goal and who else would play where. The Hurricanes were lined up in perfect formation while we scrabbled around in the drizzle, managerless.
With the ref not wishing to stay in the rain a moment longer than necessary, he delayed the kick-off for a maximum of 2 minutes, allowing Michael to emerge in an orange daze and boom out a couple of imponderables before the game started. When it did, Wokingham played with passion and intent while Woodley looked as though they were still celebrating Quaker Week.
Jack prodded and probed, eventually managing to tackle a defender and slam the ball into the corner. I was reminded of what surely has to be the question of the week from Evan: “You know when you’re in bed and there are a pack of blue people around you – what are they called?”
Surgeons.
Well, Wokingham transcended the opposition as if under a beneficial influence: Josh shifted the ball onto his favoured left peg and let one fly, drifting the ball into the top left corner. Evan joined the action as goalkeeper for the remainder of the half, but was powerless to stop a low Woodley drive before Jack Parry restored the two goal lead with a clean strike after a typically tenacious forward run. As the curfew bell sounded to signal the end of the first half, it was 3-1 to Wokingham & Emmbrook Oranges.
The problem was that the curiously armless (I say that because they seemed tucked within rather than absent – or maybe he has sensitive hands. I don’t know because it was really wet and difficult to work out) coach of Woodley really ‘went after them’ at half-time, not in a vindictive way but as if to appeal to the deeper ideals of what Brendan Rodgers would call ‘the collective.’
“We look indisciplined; we look a mess; we look out of control.”
“No, we’re not” shot back a mini Hurricane.
“I’m saying that’s what it looks like, and it needs to change.”
And change it did. They came out like The Bow Street Runners while we seemed to emerge from a Sonning chapel-of-ease. They had a forward with a sharp barnet, and looked revitalised.
The momentum seemed to switch to Woodley, but it was difficult to analyse as minor ailments – a bad jaw and ear after being whacked by a ball at close range in my own game, as well as a bulbous shin and wet feet – left me anxious and ill-tempered.
‘In fairness to Wokingham’, as Mark Hughes would say, they did hit the post, Evan was unlucky with a dipping long range free-kick which just went over, and a few other chances fell victim to indecision or slight misjudgement. Woodley added 4 goals without reply, but their fully armed co-manager graciously admitted we should have left with at least a point, when what we actually left with was only an ongoing search for one.
Wilderspool Causeway 