Its summer time, and that means many things for most Brits.
Moaning about how cold it is for most of the time and rhetorically asking “I
thought it was meant to be summer”, before then complaining incessantly about
how fucking hot it is when the sun does come out, and screen-shotting weather
apps or pictures of any nearby ice creams onto any social media that they might
get a ‘like’ on. Then complaining even more when they get sun burnt.
But for the average football fan, and I am both very average
and a football fan, this time of year is akin to purgatory. Towards the end of
the season, most Dorch fans couldn’t wait for the season to end, yet after
watching England surrender to a country with the population of Cerne Abbas in
the Euros, most already start to look forward to the weekly mediocrity and
false hope that football brings. It’s the simple things we miss; Ash Jury
coming up with bullshit rumours about Dan Cann taking the goalposts away, Chris
Shepherd signing, and of Belgium starting World War 2. Luke saying the budget
has been cut again based on something he heard at Jagos on a Saturday night. General
Hill fearing the worst after a home draw with Cinderford but proclaiming we’ll
win the league after a rousing 1-0 win at Banbury, and Cam being unable to make
an away game due to Llama rally in Lambeth.
It is perhaps for these reasons that Jake and I were worryingly
keen to attend a pre-season friendly in the quaint surrounds of Wimborne. That and I’m on leave and haven’t written anythign in a while,
But
with this being Dorch, nothing was straight forward, and in typical away game
fashion, the travel plans were a clusterfuck. The original plan to travel via
TC Tours was foiled by TC forgetting he was in Devon and would be unable to
make it. Lifts were not possible with anyone else, and a quick search on Google
told us we had missed the last train into Wimborne station by 52 years. Step in
Chairman Matt Lucas to offer us a lift, and thankfully not in one of his work vehicles. Although the idea of making an entrance akin to that of WWE’s ‘The Undertaker’
to Wimborne did quite appeal to me.
The trip to Wimborne was swift and provided us with an
interesting insight into the running of the club from Matt, but I won’t be
commenting on that as I ain’t no grass, fam. Snitches get stiches, and pissing
off an undertaker seems a bad idea. Arriving at the ground thirsty, getting a
pint seemed a good idea in practice, but proved difficult due to the fact the
bar wasn’t open, although the staff there didn’t actually tell us this for 20
minutes. In the meantime we talked our usual brand of nonsense and were treated
to 2 Wimborne fans talking about how one of them “ain’t been pissing properly
for a few days now.” Still, after a drought that would make an Ethiopian wince,
we were eventually served our Boondoggle ale, although the barman originally got
us Bulmers, and he would also mistake ‘cups’ for ‘cutlery’ when asked about how
to serve the players some squash.
After meeting the Lego man incarnate that is Berry, we
headed outside to the slopey Cuthbury to see that Heathy had changed from the
chequered shirt and tight chinos combo from earlier, and what the burger stall and
the football had to offer. The burger was very good, and the football wasn’t
too bad either. It was a nigh on full strength side that played some very neat
football at times, and this was rewarded on 20 minutes when Neil Martin,
roadkill haircut and all, played in Mario Mateus to slot the ball past the
keeper for 1-0. Mario looks like a player that will be more than useful for us
this season, likely to pick up a few goals, assists, free kicks and probably
the odd caution for reacting when sides inevitably try to kick the shit out of
him as he is a small and nippy player.
Sadly, in an all too familiar scenario, we conceded a header
from a set piece soon after and it was 1-1. This was annoying, but my exceptional cup of tea from a genuine teapot, the remains of the splendid burger, and the
fact it’s only bloody pre-season made it okay. What did not look okay was the
nasty clash of heads between Smeets and Matt Oldring, which resulted in Smeets
cutting his head on Oldring’s reinforced pony tail, and Oldring being rushed to
the nearest Toni and Guy in a turban of bandages to have any roots damage
repaired.
After the brief delay, the impressive Liam Sayers was played
in a made it 2-1 to us, and at half time that’s how the score remained. Decent enough
standard, competitive, decent tea/burger combo, good ale. Why can’t all away
days be so straight forward? There was the small matter of the second half to
get through, which more centred round our bullshit conversations than the
football itself. Tales of General (or indeed Colonel Hill as Ant Buik called
him. Unsure if this is a promotion or demotion) Hill necking wine at a wedding and
throwing some obscure shapes on the dance floor, our ability as a group of fans
to lose more flags than can be deemed normal, and the roll call for Chesham
away, which potentially will be a very good day out that can be ruined by what
we witness between the hours between 3-5pm.
Locking the toilet door, Wimborne style
As the usual changes to the sides in a friendly were made,
we also dropped a little deep and looked a bit rushed in defence, so when
Wimborne did equalise, it wasn’t a surprise but was a bloody good strike from
range that Shane could do fuck all about. 2-2, more subs, should have had a
penalty when Aldo ‘Copes’ (as the team sheet called him) was felled by the
keeper in a 1 on 1, Mario was taken out by a needlessly hefty challenge, and judging
by the screams there was either a very unhappy child or a murder going on in a nearby
house.
The 2-2 result was fair, and a decent run out for both sides.
There is enough there to suggest we will be more than okay this season, but
quite what to expect from the season as a whole is difficult to predict. Not
forgetting that at this time last season we didn’t have any of Walker, Tarbuck,
or Clarke in the side, so the personnel will no doubt change. The club seems on
a solid footing off the pitch, and judging by the chairman rushing around with
some identical pieces of paper on a clipboard and getting autographs off some
players, the recruitment is evidently an on-going process. I’m optimistic and I’m
sure come full time at Chesham the false hope will have been marginalised for bitterness,
and I’ll be looking forward to the cricket season again. Up the ale house
cloggers. By the way, anyone seen AWH recently? SV
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