You can’t win anything with kids …
… but you might win with Trevis in goal.
Those who made the journey to Castle Cary were treated to a one man masterclass in the art of goalkeeping. Clearly channeling the spirit of the late, lamented, Gordon Banks, DJT threw himself around the goalmouth with the abandon of a man released from silent shackles of the library.
Low shots, high shots, in-swinging corners and whipped in crosses: our man was a match for them all. It was a sight to behold, for unless you had seen it with your own eyes, you would not believe the brilliance we witnessed today. The Libraryman truly ascended to Legend status today.
So, with such a performance we must surely have won? Sadly, no. Despite the heroic efforts of our number 1, we still lost 4-1. To coin a cliché, it was a game of two halves.
The first few minutes saw some keystone cop comedy football at both ends, with the ball bouncing here, there and everywhere, except into the goal – true Sunday morning football. However, the game settled down and we found our composure, sometimes surprising ourselves with the time we had, and we began to play our brand of calm, collected, sophisticated football, building from the back. Our pressure was rewarded when a Whatling cross from the right was rifled home. Again, in true Sunday morning fashion, it was not one of our players who struck the ball so sweetly into the onion bag, but a Cary defender who lashed it past his helpless keeper. Half time saw us lead one-nil.
The start of the second half, and it soon became apparent we had a mountain to climb. Literally. The pitch slopped significantly down towards our goal, the right corner flag being, perhaps, some six feet lower than the centre circle. Unable to effectively clear and gain any respite, the opposition launched wave upon wave of attacks, peppering our goal with vicious, swirling shots. But time and again our hero of the hour was more than a match, leaping to his left, racing to his right, diving at the feet of an oncoming striker to thwart their every effort.
We began to hope, the opposition to despair. Perhaps this was to be our, to be Dave’s, day. But alas, no. Eventually the unstoppable force overcame the immovable object and the home side headed home to level the scores. And as the cracks in the damn began to widen, DJT could not keep plugging all the holes and eventually the trickle became a surge and three more times the master was beaten.
It was a fantastic, and thoroughly enjoyable, game of football. Many thanks to all who played, and particular thanks to those youngsters: – Joe, Robin & Dan – who answered the call to swell our numbers in our hour of need.
And, on a final note, I feel vindicated. In the run up to today’s game my keeper selection had been questioned: “why don’t you play Len Bond?” was a question asked more than once. Jake “The Cat” Mawford was asking to once again play between the sticks. But one man’s magnificent performance today will live long in the memory of all who took to that south Somerset pitch today.
