Cometh the Hour, Cometh the Grant

With the final touch of the game, we won our first points.

Before Grant levelled the score against St Ives with a well-executed short-corner, however, we battled for seventy minutes against a decent opposition, the technical difficulties of the umpires' headsets, and an absolutely baffling pitch. Words almost fail to describe it. It was like a shag carpet that has been laid atop concrete before a lawnmower has traversed its knots and frays. That weird pitch was nonetheless one of the few signs of life in Northstowe, a town currently being built from scratch. Ant sagely observed that it was the perfect place to film a zombie film. The only real sign of horror, though, was upon the faces of St Ives as they left the pitch, wondering where it all went wrong.

For much of the first-half, things had seemed to go so right for the home team, even if we did start strong. Our early flurries pressured Ives. Soon, Will Middleton had unleashed a reverse-stick shot - or was it a cross? - from the right baseline. It was saved and patted down by the massive keeper, but Pat was there to direct it home via an opposition leg. 0-1. Ives complained, and the umpires convened, and they ruled that Will's first attempt was somehow dangerous. 0-0 again. Cue confusion and a lull in our performance. The oppo were well-drilled and loved a crash-ball. They had plenty of opportunities, but good defensive teamwork kept things level - until yet another crash ball took a few deflections before finding an Ives forward on the far-post. 1-0. Ives kept pushing to further their lead, and we could barely escape our half. Times like these require a bit of magic. Enter Tatty. Tatty's form during this year's summer league has become almost legendary. At key moments, and after missing a couple of sitters, he'd suddenly appear, like a flock of admirers around a post-match Will Hartley, and he'd score an immensely difficult goal from somewhere silly. Tatty's form, it transpires, is not restricted to summer league. Getting the ball on the far left of the 'D', he smashed an 'unstoppable' shot past the flailing keeper. 1-1. The momentum shifted. Ives were now fighting to keep the score level, and were relieved when half-time came.

Much like yesterday's South Africa v France game, the attacking brilliance of the first-half was replaced by admirable attrition warfare in the second. Both sides fought hard for an advantage. None came. Sellers ran down the clock by launching an aerial into a neighbouring wheat field. Did he know that our post-final-whistle short-corner would level things, and this incident was just him making sure the oppo had no time after to attempt a last-gasp winner? Was this slip-up, so out of character, part of his masterplan? He remains silent on the matter. If it was, however, he must've foreseen Ives sneaking ahead, with our sleepiness allowing a relatively uncontested shot from the top of the 'D'. 2-1. We began to fret. We kept pushing and pushing. Someone got clobbered in the oppo 'D', and the final whistle blew. 10 bodies crowded around the 'D'. Ignoring Sellers's routine, Grant flicked the ball into the side-netting. 2-2. We all roared.

We were less enthused when we saw St Ives's clubhouse, but nothing could dampen our spirits. We'd won our first points of the year, and we go into next week against bottom-of-the-league Cambridge Nomads on a high. On the other hand, St Ives were even more depressed with the result than we were to realise Barney was born after 'I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor' by Arctic Monkeys was released. Worries about age aside, please bring as much support as possible to Bishop at 230 on Saturday. A win could move us out of the relegation spots!

MoM: Matt Coe (doing his job)

DoD: Andy Sellers (combine harvester sabotage)

#SpecialShowers #TrapHouseClubHouse #Don'tShoot!Don'tShoot!YEEEESS!