You could have chosen to spend your Sunday morning in bed, surrounded by the morning papers, toast and marmalade. You could have chosen to listen to Marr try and wheedle out a half-truth from a lying politician. Or, as fourteen brave, brilliant souls chose to do, you could have witnessed the bright dawn of a new season of Legends football.
With a squad – yes, a squad – of fourteen, there were selection headaches to go with any self-inflicted headaches from the night before. But the first five minutes suggested the lineup was good. With the last, lingering strands of mist still swirling across the dew-laden grass, new man Simon C drifted into the box like a willow-the-wisp to put us a goal up. A goal that was straight out of the Mawford coaching manual.
Reacting first to the danger, Paul Sequin nicked in from right back to steal the ball from a Cheriton attacker. Having won the ball, it was zipped across the back four before being unleashed to the waiting Whatling down the left hand side. The ball was worked well with crisp, neat passing before Simon was found in the box and he finished with aplomb. 1-0.
From the restart the greens made their strategy clear: lump it up to the big man up front. “Deano” (the big man up front) had a good first touch, acting as a pivot to bring his team mates into to play, but Steve P marshalled the back line with a calm efficiency, reducing the opposition to taking pot shots at Shane Potts in goal, who coped with all that was thrown at us.
A few dodgy offside decisions and a strong penalty shout denied saw us fail to extend the margin before half time, but we went it deserving of our one goal lead. Half time saw some tactical changes to accommodate tiring legs; “Clean Sheet” Potts swapped the keeper’s jersey with “Leaky Sieve” Peabody, and the second half kicked off.
For a while we struggled to gel into new positions, but we weathered a stream of green attacks, and always looked dangerous when we exploited the width of the pitch. However, midway through the half, we failed to effectively clear, the ball breaking to a Cheriton player who struck it sweetly, the ball moving away from the keeper’s flailing hands and into the net. 1-1.
But not for long. From the kick off, Andrew C-D collected the ball, beat five men, beat another seven, then went back round the first five just for good measure before calmly slotting home to restore our advantage. 2-1.
As legs tired on both sides, space opened it up and either team could have added to their tally. Greens won a free kick just outside the box on the right hand side. The taker nicked a couple of yards, seen only by himself & the keeper, giving himself a better angle and he whipped in a curling attempt at goal. Between the posts, Peabody flapped and could only tip the ball onto the bar. A green head nodded the rebound goalwards, Peabody again tipped the ball onto the bar, but here his luck ran out as it fell kindly for a green tap in. 2-2.
We pressed on, the better footballing side, trying to once again take the lead. But the opposition broke, and broke at pace. Together Peabody, Pockett & Potts were able to withstand the attack, combining to send the ball off the side for a throw. But like a green tsunami, Cheriton continued to surge forward whilst tired white legs drifted back like the mornings mist. A quick throw in, and our defence was outnumbered, overwhelmed and unable to prevent the Greens taking the lead for the first time. 2-3
We didn’t give up: Andrew auditioned for an Oscar and Whatling practised his judo moves, but it was all to no avail and, as the final whistle blew, we trudged off feeling hard done by to have lost.
But the score matters not a jot. It was a beautiful day for the beautiful game. The simple pleasures of chasing a lump of leather around a pitch is not a joy shared – or understood – by all, but all those present today understand and shared in a magnificent morning.
