Everyone who arrives at Woodley Goals Centre is a survivor. What they have survived, we don’t know. Whether they will continue to survive and for how long, we’re not sure. Today, Wokingham were up against the enigmatically named Westwood Wanderers, in what became one of the most physical encounters I’ve seen since accidentally stumbling into John Major’s office in the latter stages of his era. As we entered the Olympiastadion of Woodley, it became clear that most of the Wanderers were sponsored by ‘KPC Plastering’, apart from one boy who had two phone numbers on his chest. On closer inspection he was advertising a group of electricians from Tilehurst called ‘Burden Electrical’ who could be contacted on two possible numbers by parents watching the game, if only he would hold still long enough for them to be noted down or typed into phone memories. As is customary, Wokingham conceded a goal after about 1.3 seconds of the game. Connor Mulvaney then then found a vein of form which was entirely absent last week and hit back with two quick goals before Westwood fortuitously equalised with a deflected shot. At this point, the game began to follow the oft-negotiated path first identified by Eric Jarosinski: ‘First as tragedy. Then as farce. Then as tragedy-farce banana smoothie.’
As the seemingly sweet and innocuous Westwood team prodded, poked, yanked and bundled, it became difficult to decide whether a ruck in one half of the pitch took precedence over a two-footed lunge in the other. In this process, the referee was about as useful as an inquisitive rustic at the scene of a Normandy plane crash. Amidst the confusion, Wokingham took decisive control of the game with two goals from Mark Sexton, one from Jack Parry and another good goal from Evan who controlled the ball at the edge of the box before hammering it past the keeper. With about 10 minutes to go Westwood began a fightback, and it seemed inevitable, somehow, that they would go on to win. With the score now at 6-4, and with the Wokingham parents beginning to feel about as nervous as Robbie Fowler walking past a sniffer dog, the ball fell to a generally clued-up Amelia Mulvaney at the edge of her own box. Instead of kicking the ball in an appropriate direction, she opted for a back heel to her goalkeeper which was punished easily, resulting in a score of 6-5 with two minutes to go.
At this point it’s worth noting that there are some phrases which should not be shouted at a children’s football match. Leaving obscenities aside, many staple comments are simply idiotic and untrue and consequently baffling to 6- year-olds. One of these is ‘second ball.’ There’s no such thing as a second ball, and even if there is, 6 and 7-year-olds are clearly without a scooby as to the implications of it being yelled from the sideline. Likewise, I’m afraid, with ‘unlucky.’ If what you have witnessed is total incompetence which is bound to fail, then it’s not ‘unlucky’ when it does. It’s inevitable. But then shouting ‘inevitable failure!’ or ‘dogshit’ wouldn’t help either; issuing worthwhile instructions to small people is quite difficult- and, actually, forbidden by Wokingham and Emmbrook’s code of conduct. Thankfully, Amelia’s showboating was the final stop on the tragedy-farce-banana smoothie continuum and we were left to savour the right boot of Connor Mulvaney as he executed an incredible Mark Hughes style acrobatic half volley to seal the victory.
Wilderspool Causeway 