Sheerwater

Sheerwater

It’s very much a different perspective from above. I guess one supports from behind the goal and observes- to an extent- from the middle of the pitch.

In my temporary role as match day announcer, I took up a position at the top of the main stand. Can’t afford to be too far away from the mic in case of chatworthy incident. My voice, as such, unlended to the Bog End. The Bog End survived, of course. The protagonists all present on the day and at volume- Ant, Ty, Tim. The choir was quorate.

From the egret I see it all unfold. I see who prospers and who flounders. I hear more, too. Or at least I can attach sounds to faces. Who’s scripting? Whose voice? Our captain’s. Our pack leader, Jayden Hutchings. Tom Theobald from the pulpit, seeing all in front of him and preaching. The good word. All good words.

Tooting find themselves a goal down come half time. It’s mostly inexplicable to me, but the bits of chances we’ve made haven’t been exploited. Sheerwater break once and snag a goal off an unfortunate parry to a dangerous spot. 5 minutes until half time.

The half doesn’t peter out without Shay Brennan testing their goalie, but it ends with a home deficit.

Imperial Fields doesn’t seem cross, particularly. There’s been no lack of purpose. Just “one of them”, thus far. Perhaps guys you expect more from are off it a fraction. Nothing terminal.

In the second half, Tooting and Mitcham United look like a side that knows they oughtn’t to be losing here. Sheerwater’s main threat, a tall centre forward to whom the ball is magnetised, becomes neutralised by an imperious Jayden who is clearly no longer keen for any nonsense. No headers will be missed. No duels will be conceded. Fights will be fought and won or, if drawn, won in epilogues.

Deji doesn’t fuck around. Sid Dack takes it all personally. Warren Colman is Warren Colman and it becomes difficult not to take his commitment for granted. Warren is baked-in bastard. I’d hate him to play for anyone other than Tooting. He’s water. He’s the player all our dads respect. Keiran is frustrated on the day but it speaks volumes that he’s the man we look to to be the guy that turns it around. When Keiran’s cross we’re cross because we want what he does.

And Shay Brennan. Words, words, words. He scores two in about two minutes. He just hones in on the football and while defenders and goalies are panicking about what he’ll do, he’s looking at the football and contorting his legs in ways that’ll put the football into the goal. He’s not the threat, the football is. Defenders should concentrate on making sure the football isn’t close to Shay Brennan and stop worrying about Shay Brennan. A dink over a goalie who ends up running into dead man land. Too easy. A finish where defender and goalie seem to be too much concerned with the fact that Shay Brennan is mooning around them like a high noon shadow to just boot the fucking football into neverland. I’m not a footballer, but if I was I would just make sure the football never went near Shay Brennan. The rest may well look after itself.

We lead with 20 left. Sheerwater are slightly at it all game and the referee does his work beautifully. He’s not to be fucked with. Sid Dack’s heart is on his sleeve and his metaphorical balls are on the line. He does a foul and then a madness and is sent off, rightly. Two yellows in a single passage of play. Easy one for the ref.

Never change, Sid. These are battles we want you to fight and if you win ten, you’ll lose one. Maybe box cleverer the next time, but when there’s leads to be preserved and games to be won, fly in with all our love.

Tooting down to ten, twenty left at least. Captain Brennan calls for effort. Marcus Whittaker and Sonic and Callum Porteous come on and each do their bits beautifully. Pressing happens in pairs. Jayden soars above bastards and plants his head where angels fear to tread.

Shay Brennan finds himself with the ball when Sheerwater over-commit and, hat-trick pending, squares it to young Blake Lyoza who kicks it in the net. Simple business.

Tooting win 3-1 with ten men.

Tooting win 3-1 from a losing first half.

Tooting win 3-1 and the bar stays busy after full time. Players and support chat. Vibes are splendid.

Here we are. Top of the stand, top of the world. Fancy dress, not fancy football. Results. Vibes. Gary Goals, Jayden Hutchings, collective effort.

I fucking snuck Dick Gaughan into the playlist at half time as well.

Aye.

The Stripes. What a gang of lads.