CCFC 2 v 1 BRIZZLE

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.