2008-9 Season

Timely victory for the tardy ‘Chels

You couldn’t make it up. No, actually that’s not true. I mostly do make it up. But in this case, dear reader, there is no need for embellishment.

Not only did the ‘Chels give a classic demonstration of their comic timing (or rather lack of timing) today but they also delivered a stunning and historic victory against the heretofore unbeaten Meadhurst. As El Tel so succinctly put it afterwards – Dicky, Dogger and Donny…we Don ‘em in!

It’s hard to believe we pulled off such a win, given the haphazard nature of our arrival. I managed to get lost on the way and showed up at 10.35  instead of my usual 10.29- but couldn’t see any ‘Chels vehicles anywhere (I later discovered Tel, MKP and Alex hiding in the changing rooms).

The phone buzzed. It was EP rang to say his Tom Tom (aka Newbod) had led him up the garden path, or more correctly up the M25 and he and the rest of the sizeable contingent on the Newbywagon would be a good 20 minutes late.

EP got no sense out of me, obviously. But he had wisely chosen to ring someone truly responsible before he rang me to warn the team of his tardiness, someone who is never late and who routinely denounces latecomers and all their vile sins – ie Stevie B.

Stevie answered to say he was already out on the pitch, there were no Kenchels feckers in sight, his Dad was taking up position on the left touchline and the opposition were already warming up. Am I the only one who cares? Well, he may not have said it, but he certainly thought it.

Problem was, Steve was at Holyport in deepest Berkshire and the rest of us were at – or en route – to the real venue at Meadhurst in Chertsey more than 20 miles away. Incidentally, Meadhurst is just two minutes round the corner from Stevie’s Dad’s house!.

Such is the paranoia that now exists in the team over spoofing, EP thought the whole thing was an elaborate mobile phone jape and that Stevie would pop out of a cupboard the moment he and the latecomers on the Newbywagon arrived. But oh no.

Even the boy Gav who’d got the 7am flight in from Dublin for international duty was there almost on time. Euan arrived, having also gone up the M25, but still no Stevie.  What would the navigationally challenged Craig say if he was here? Might have had a little giggle I suspect.

And so to the game. We kicked off with a bare 11 and Dicky, Dogger and co started strongly. An early break down the left ended with a powerful shot that MKP almost stopped. It was a well-taken goal and we were one-nil down. But from this point on, it was downhill for the Meadhursts.

Fifteen minutes in, with the ‘Chels settling in and beginning to push forward, Stevie B came trundling out of the car park to join us having driven hell-for-leather to correct his gaffe. Ten minutes after that, Tom Taw showed up – he wasn’t late he said, he just saw we had 11 so went for a walk! Cometh the man, cometh the hour indeed.

It soon became apparent that defensive resilience was going to be the leitmotif of today’s encounter.  Gav at centre back, Tel on the right and Stevie on the left couldn’t put a foot wrong. The Meadhursts were struggling to make much of an impact – although they did have one cheeky moment when they tried to lob over MKP’s head, only to see it hit the bar.

At the other end, Stevie B immediately made up for his misdirection off the pitch with a beautifully directed ball that hit Alex’s bonce from some distance to beat their keeper – level pegging. Not long after that, Alex broke down the right flank and put in a perfect cross…only to see it skew and sail past the keeper into the back of the Meads’ net. Two-one. Hurrah.

Somewhere around this point, EP took a collosal stamping on the foot and spent the rest of the half hobbling around. At half-time, we were on top but we needed that third goal to be safe.

The second half saw a few changes – EP off, Euan off briefly and myself and Tommy T on. There were a few niggles between the Meads, us and the ref but nothing that would have raised a Wayne eyebrow. There were a couple of late tackles too but nothing to match our own tardiness.

Things improved further when Tel managed to send their right midfielder skidding along on his nose to make my life on the right flank easier.

The killer blow came from Mo, about 15 minutes from full time. Their keeper had rashly come out of his box to clear a ball on the left. Before he could get back, Mo – standing in the centre circle – had put the perfect lob into the back of the net. Three-one and the game was ours. EP had to be forcibly restrained from joining the Meads for a pint in the bar afterwards just so he could gloat.

So that is it, fellow ‘Chels. We have laid our final jinx side to rest. There is nobody on the fixture list we can’t beat – well, apart from Old Aloysians but we’ve never actually played them, have we Chris?

As for being on time, as a wise man once said, punctuality is the art of guessing how late the other bloke is going to be. How very, very true.

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