The introduction to Douglas
(Hitch-Hiker's Guide) Adams' and John (QI) Lloyd's book 'The Meaning of Liff '
begins 'In life there are many common
experiences, feelings and situations which we all know and recognise but for
which no words exist.' The book
attempts to remedy this by proposing new words - for example, the pleasant
smell of an empty biscuit tin is a 'Lindisfarne' and 'Peoria' is the fear of
peeling too few potatoes.
Football of course has a language
all of its own, with its factually-correct but trite 'game of two halves',
often played in an intimidating 'cauldron' in front of 'the faithful' who dream
of 'playing host' one day to the likes of your Bests, your Maradonnas and your
Messis who can 'turn on a sixpence' before making 'slide-rule' passes leading to
'text book' goals to produce a result that may ultimately be 'academic'.
But all players are assigned
specific attributes. Even a 'journeyman' footballer can be blessed with 'an old
head on young shoulders' containing 'an eye for goal'. And while he may have 'a
monkey on his back' this is often counter-balanced by a substantial 'price-tag'
on his chest. If he's really fortunate he'll have 'good feet for a big man' and
possess an 'educated' or 'cultured' left foot. (Little is ever spoken in praise
of the right foot which presumably left school at 15 and spends it days at
William Hills waiting for them to weigh in at Newton Abbott).
There's not much in the accepted footie
lexicon that adequately reflects the way we might be thinking or accurately
sums up our sense of joy, anxiety, hope or despair. The impact of any
interesting or insightful phrases has been diluted by overuse and consigned to
cliché.
I can only find one reference to
football in The Meaning of Liff: the word 'Hoddlesden'
which is used to describe a footballer's limp after he's received treatment, but
which doesn't fool anyone. How about some new words and phrases which more
fully describe our experiences and personalise the 'slings and arrows of
outrageous footie fortune' (Billy Shakespeare, Bard and left wing-half for
Stratford Scribblers FC).
Spleenish - the prospect of witnessing an unassailable lead slowly
disappearing over the closing weeks of the season
Stoutquizzle - A balding middle-aged former Soul Crew member, resplendent
in his red (XXXL) replica shirt having previously vowed to rip up his season
ticket if we gave up the blue.
Pricklesmirk - the secret enjoyment at hearing a totally
inappropriate chant directed at the opposing fans
Wondervoid - The moment between the ball crossing the line and the
net bulging.
Hoardingswarmer (spoken with
a Scandinavian accent) - The piece of towelling handed to Aaron Gunnarsson to dry the ball before launching a long throw
into the box.
Champster - An occasional fan who owns 3 scarves, commemorating the
Wembley finals, which will be given their first airings at the CCS should we
make it to the Premier League and will be worn under a Barbour jacket.
Giggsage - The quantitative measure of a player's longevity and
commitment to one club eg. 'McNaughton is the longest serving player in the
current squad. He's given great Giggsage.'
Chorlton-cum-Hardy - The diffident wave made by Peter Whittingham
as he acknowledges the crowd before stepping up to take a corner.
Feel free to add to the
collection...
And so to the visit of our near
neighbours for today's Severnside Derby, a fixture that S Wales Plod moved
forward by two hours to counter the perceived threat to the very fabric of
society of 1500 deflated Bristolians. It would be nice if the authorties could
acknowledge that the game has moved on - Hooliganism is sooo last century... Still, the chance to reclaim our 11 point lead
at the top for a couple of hours and to further strengthen our promotion
buffer.
New Robins' manager Sean
O'Driscoll has begun to steady a sinking ship in recent weeks but they remain
very much in danger of floundering on the rocks. As the afternoon unfolded it
became increasingly clear why.
In recent weeks we've entertained
a number of relegation-threatened teams - Peterboro, Ipswich, Sheff Wed -
who've surprised us by competing with a determination, commitment and no little
skill that suggests they're in with a shout. Not so Bristol. It was immediately
apparent that they believed their only chance of getting anything out of this
game was by shutting us out and hoping to catch us on a very rare break. Their
only outlet up front was the veteran Stead who no longer looks capable of
cutting it at Championship level.
For 45 minutes we were relentless,
getting the ball down both wings, mostly to Noone who was giving their right
back a torrid time. However, former Bluebird Tom Heaton in the Brizzle goal was
alive to every possibility, particularly from long range efforts and free
kicks. His positioning and anticipation reflected the fact that he's spent many
hours on the training field with Whitts and Bellers in recent times. And when
the ball did run free inside the box it always seemed to fall to one of our
loitering defenders rather than an opportunist striker.
New boy Campbell was lively but
struggling to find space in a packed final third. However, a frustrating first
half was to conclude with some reward for our domination as Campbell linked up
with Tommy Smith, breaking free and cleverly placing the ball wide of the
advancing Heaton with the outside of his boot. 1-0.
Top half-time tune was the old
Small Faces standard that begins with the line 'Wouldn't it be nice to get on
with me neighbours.' A wonderfully appropriate tune if only we had actually
been playing on a 'Lazy Sunday Afternoon'.
The second half was to follow the
precision-cut template prepared during the first. Within a minute Campbell was
back in the thick of the action having a reasonable shout for a penalty turned
down in clear site of the assistant running the line in front of us. Still,
clearly there would be more opportunities to make the game safe.
About 10 minutes in the ball-boy
dutifully handed Gunnarsson his hoardingswarmer. As Betty was bemoaning the
fact that we never seem to take full advantage of the Icelander's special
weapon, the ball flew into the box and landed at the feet of Campbell who
seemed to have an unfeasibly long time in a crowded box to steady himself and
choose his spot. 2-0. Cue an outbreak of pricklesmirk as the Canton End
mercilessly taunted the away fans with 'You're just a cheap local airport'
etc...
Shortly afterwards Malky decided
to kill off the game as a spectacle by bringing on the dour Cowie to replace
the energetic Smith. Campbell departed next, replaced by Helguson to further
widen the flair deficit. Tactically astute but disappointingly negative. The
opportunity to push on and win in some style was sacrificed at the altar of
hard-nosed pragmatism. If that sounds ungrateful well perhaps after a 5 week
absence we had the right to expect more than 60 minutes of top-notch entertainment.
In the event the tactic of
killjoy keep-ball almost came undone at the death as the tiring Nugent
carelessly placed his back pass wide of the advancing Marshall and into his own
net. Fortunately we were well into Pro Supplements Time by then but it was an
unnecessarily daft denouement.
So we finish the weekend still
comfortably 11 points clear of the play-offs fodder with a member of the
chasing pack in Brighton lined up for slaughter next Tuesday.
Orpington - the warm glow that comes from the certainty that your
dreams will soon be realised.
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