I write this in full anticipation that others may already have been bequethed the honour of writing the report; and to that end I propose this be an addendum should that be the case.
If not, then this is Gospel, Tom, as to what happened that frosty afternoon in Woking with a team that peddled players far more surrepticious, far more capable than our half's could muster a worthwhile defence.
I have conversed extensively with James Chalmers QC, OBE, ICI, FAB, MBE, VC on this matter and he has assured me that it is all our defender's faulted because we are unable to crush the infidels prior to their inception into D cat. There was a suggestion that Tim (Ultravox 1st track from Three into One circa 1979) Savage should play higher up to release quick ball, but alas it fell on deaf ears on sideline tears as 23 players turned up today to play for a mere 11 places.
Fighting the cold, the snappy cold, was a challenge in itself; but to add to it Woking (Pitts of the earth) were actually quite good; particularly their lanky androgenous South African protagonist who looked only slightly older than me.
Oh the Goals! One from Sturgess, of course and then five from them, Pathetic! and even HP decided to self elect his substitution. What does all this mean?
It means that we are what we are; a team of contrasts. A bit like my ride home tonight after the GHC Xmas bash. When I feel lost, when I feel superflous; I reach out and caress the leather of my steed. I stroke the walnut and remind myself that I am complete in choices I have made and own.
As a right wing I am reminded of our great commission...
Not only must we proselytize the Guildford 1s into believing they are only a few tender years off of us, but also; we are the prophets to all GHC teams of what is to come to everyone - in time.
Ok so James let in five goals; but in truth; we forwards failed to capitalize on our 15 break outs. Sturgess will always perform, like any gazelle. And Strange, that's me, will always hassle and freak out the opposition with flair, style and poise. But Tom, failed potato crop Carney, is correct to speak out from his Dublin base when he criticizes our lack of goals. Even Nick, I must strap my leg up, Khule illustrated this point aptly today as he screamed for Nigel to cum back on pitch for fear that his absence would result in no goals.
Nigel, not only thwarted by self imposed injury, but absent from tonight's soire, would agree that he has to do more to encourage his wing forwards to share in his medley of goal scoring.
I learned a lot tonight from the celebrations over dinner at the club house. We are not so far removed from the bar as we are to the pitch. I enquired about some of our younger players and was duly informed by a 1st player that their potential lay in matters beyond nurture. Indeed, nature has everything to do with moments beyond our control. I look at the 1978 picture of our 1st team players and recognise some Gondoliers! Crickey, 1978...what a year particularly as I was photographed in James Hunt's World beating Mclaren F1 car at prep school.
Woking Pitts proved that guile is still more potent that poise. Yes they bleated for decisions to go against us. Yes we could do nothing about the sun in our eyes. Alas the methods we use are still not up to the job, but ultimately we do know how to pass the long balls while cocking up the shorter options.
We need training, perhaps we could arrange a friendly with one of our higher ranked teams to fully engage with a more contemporary display.
For many months I struggled to beat a squash player until one day I not only copied his moves; but actually surpassed them. He later suffered a heart attack due to stress of having to face me in the fruit and veg aisle. Something Tom suffers from repeatedly due to adopting the surrogacy that is our special relationship.
Reality Check - Woking proved to be a more experienced capable opposition with a couple of very mobile skilful playmakers. Guildford was hampered by an excess number of players and the consequence of frequent changes.