There has been no football for a while, as the pitches have been frozen, so I thought it would be nice to give you an account of the evening we spent in Cambridge celebrating Peter Lovell's birthday recently.
The day started rather early, with lunch at the Lion and Lamb. This is a pub with its limitations, but what it's good at, it does well. The most positive things about the pub are the wonderful large, heart attack inducing burgers, the excellent staff and the quality beer. There is a notable recent addition to the venue: an under inflated bouncy castle sat in the beer garden, which was covered in snow. This was most tempting, but if I'm honest, it looked a tad dangerous, even for the sober gentleman.
The banter was introductory at this stage, recalling names, fond memories of previous nights out, and a brief but excellent chat about military tactics, including the merits and reliability of using flaming pigs as a weapon.
We then toddled off to the White Horse, just across the road. This is one of those pubs that is a little desolate, with not a lot to commend it. To give you an idea of the character, if the cast of Shameless walked in and started smashing up the place mid afternoon on a Saturday, well, let's just say you wouldn't be entirely surprised. It has a playground, which presents a particularly sorry sight, not least as you know that drunkard parents may well have used it as a justification for staying for one more pint, whilst poor little johnny plays forlornly in the rain on the broken slide.
On a more positive note, very few people go to crap pubs, so it meant we had plenty of space to sprawl out into...conversation at this point, or "chat" varied between the merits of pub quiz machines, the dubious quality of pub snacks, the worry about the current recruitment dilemna facing Jagex FC, or my personal favourite, a discussion relating to what amusing variations of the word "magician" we could come up with. Socrates wouldn't have been impressed, but Socrates never spent Saturday afternoons in his local boozer putting the world to rights.
The dreaded thing then happened, the group on the pub crawl split. One group went, as planned to the Cambridge Blue. The other disappeared to the Alexandra Arms, for reasons which are not entirely clear.
At the Alexandra Arms, the group became a little more boisterous, scaring one of the regular's poor little puppies. The Alex is small, a corner pub that used to be a house, with a quirky character, nice beer and a good Sunday pub quiz. Conversation centred on who might live in the houses overlooking the beer garden, whether they were attractive, and would they welcome unexpected guests from the beer garden. A mystery bottle of green liquor appeared at some point, and was illegally consumed in the premises, before we journeyed to the Cambridge Blue. Jaegar something or other?
The Cambridge Blue is a wonderful pub, full of character, excellent ales, good staff and nice food. We largely took over the place. Conversations about Las Vegas holidays and eating steak at 5 in the morning, snow and how it brings the world to a grinding halt and manages to make even the most cheery of souls moan, how to travel the globe on the cheap, who was the worst person in WWII and why beer contains ground fish bladders, are those I recall most clearly and fondly. There was a mystery marquee erected at the rear of the pub which looked rather out of place, and one can only hope that no-one we know is getting married there. A personal highlight was my managing to secure the recruitment of two Americans for my beloved sport of cricket, a truly wonderful occurrence. Whether they will follow through remains to be seen, but goodness me I love seeing Americans swing a cricket bat first time. Whilst I've played with some excellent Americans, and one brilliant Canadian, over the years, the first time is a lot like Bambi on Ice.
After quite a lengthy session, with a few of our number looking worse for wear, we headed to the King Street Run. This is a rather interesting pub, the clientele favour darker clothes, and the pub decor complements this nicely. The staff are excellent, and they normally have a brilliant variety of beers on tap. Here, the previously cultured conversation and good natured tone of the evening diminished somewhat. A couple of people engaged in a unique game of pool, that involved neither the pool balls, nor the table, but most definitely did involve the pool cues. Also, some of the beer allegedly wasn't up to scratch, and in a gesture of disapproval, the beer was used as shampoo by the birthday boy.
The landlord disapproved, understandably (clearly he is a fan of traditional pool rules) and we were politely asked to leave. Our good friend Leeroy stepped in to act as a mediator at this point, to help avoid the situation escalating. Those of us who know Leeroy understand that this really isn't his core skill-set, but I witnessed it, and he did an admirable job of calming things down. Clearly fatherhood has mellowed him.
After this, we arrived at Vodka Revolution for the final stretch of the evening. Sadly, beyond this point, I can offer no further comment on the evening. It was dark, it was loud, conversation ended, and I put on my dad dancing shoes and shook my rather ample moneymaker, until the lights came on and the carriages were called to end a rather good evening.
Some of the details of the evening have been omitted, in the interests of preventing embarrassment, but hopefully you get the gist...
31 January 2013
13 January 2013
Jagex Dibbled by Dobblers
Jagex 0 - 6 The Dobblers
Fardell (GK), Walther, Gaz, Balls, Crick, Sweatman, Coles, Scottish Dave, Harris, Danno, Lovell,
Subs - Hope
Did Not Turn Up - Murby (Outrageous)
Things got better this week, only marginally mind, since we managed to improve from a 9-0 drubbing to only lose by the far more respectable score of 6-0. Who knows, at this rate, we might only lose by 3 goals next week
This week we played at Chesterton Community College. This lovely establishment engages in a number of dubious practices.
- Firstly, it throws every team into the same changing room, a changing room that is not really big enough for one team. Male changing rooms are fragrant environments at the best of times, but if you add 25-30 men into a confined space it's more like some sort of experiment in biological warfare than an area fit for human habitation.
- Secondly, Chesterton Village college has located the changing rooms in a different postcode to the pitches, meaning a fairly lengthy trudge from changing room to ground, across a main road no less.
- Finally, the pitch quality is pretty poor. We aren't accustomed to playing on finely manicured croquet lawns, but generally we expect more than a couple of dozen blades of grass to be contained within the playing area of your average 11-a-side pitch. We also expect the goalframe to be fully assembled. In this case, one of the stanchions was not attached, and the bolts were scattered nearby. There was even an open drain within the confines of the outfield. I suspect even crack addicts desperate to shoot up would turn their nose up at this quality of open space.
The weather was really rather cold, leaving a frozen field, more suited to viking raids than football. I won't try and pin the weather on Chesterton Community College, not this week anyway. I'm sad to say that the length of the introduction before I mention any actual football is indicative of what was actually entertaining on the day: much of the football most certainly wasn't, at least from our perspective.
As we were just about to start, Lovell and Crick engaged in a first: a pre-match fallout. Come on chaps, save it for half time at least. We lined up with a different team from last week, as we had lost Manu, Piers is still missing presumed dead, Ryan may have been hanging out in Norwich, and some other regulars weren't available. This week's villain was Murby for not managing to attend, crying off quite late.
We started badly, coming under some early pressure from kick-off and didn't really exert any hold on the ball. Fardell had some amusing moments, racing off his line badly and also popping one behind for a corner, which in all truth he didn't really know much about. He was then forced into a heavy challenge with his own defender, Balls, coming off with a rather misshapen knee.
Crick was slotting in alongside Balls trying to play from the back. Danno saw a little of the ball on the left and, after some neat interchanges with Scottish Craig, fashioned a few half chances. Pete looked sadly isolated up-front and everyone was deathly quiet, just absorbing pressure and hoping for the best. Walther managed one nice push forward, exchanging a pass with Sweatman - he of the extremely gammy toe, but none of it came to anything other than attack after attack from the Dobblers.
Then they scored. A hopeful punt was brought down and lashed hard towards goal. It was quite close to Fardell, but he parried it straight back out into the path of an onrushing striker to easily tap home. 1-0 - and my teflon coated gloves clearly need replacing. Balls carried on working hard winning balls in the air, but it was very much one-way traffic. Harris was being forced to help out more and more, even in this early stage of the game, to try and give the defence some semblance of cover. Sadly it was soon 2-0, as the defence backed off an advancing striker. He let rip, the ball was deflected by Walther's shoulder, leaving Fardell diving at thin air.
The third was rather unfair. A spot of good defending from Gaz and Walther had seen the ball out for a goalkick. The ref thought it was a corner, and rather unsportingly, the Dobblers didn't correct him and only chuckled at their good fortune. One of their chaps rose highest to nod home an easy chance. The Dobblers had their tails up at this point, and one player let fly from range with an absolute screamer. Fardell had no hope, but in an effort to make the goal look good, he dived theatrically. Thankfully the ball cannoned back off the post.
Jagex were really struggling to cope with several Dobblers players, including a Usain Bolt/Theo Walcott hybrid down the right. He could best be described as quick with a poor touch, and he repeatedly got himself into loads of good positions but then didn't really know what to do once there. Even when he fluffed it up he was enjoying himself. Jagex were camped in their half, Lovell was seeing nothing of the ball, and Sweatman had gone off early to allow the return of the Hope; a bit like return of the mac, but shorter, more white, and less prone to criminality.
Being overrun in midfield, Dobblers were taking any opportunity to shoot, and Jagex were backing off repeatedly. One player advanced, let fly with another screamer, and again Fardell dived just to make it look good, as it nestled in the net behind him. Briefly Jagex saw a bit more of the ball, after a re-jig in formation saw Walther helping out more in the centre of the park. Fardell then actually made a save, pushing one wide. As Jages exerted more pressure, it turned out that at the back, the Dobblers defence had yet to awake from their slumber. After some good play from Danno and Scottish Craig, and some fortune, Jacob found himself clean through. Sadly he could only tamely send the ball in the direction of their keeper.
Just before half time, Dobblers made it 5-0, when the Usain Bolt chap outstripped Hope for pace, and slotted home. Half time -5-0 again. # sad face.
The second half started in much the same way as the first, and Dobblers quickly found themselves 6 up. Some neat play around the box fell to a forward around the penalty spot, who slotted home. Then something strange happened, Jagex finally woke up and decided to play a bit more. Hope helped start a couple of attacks. Balls strode forward menacingly more than once. Also, our very own twinkle toed giant, Harris, decided to get out his dancing shoes and show a couple of us that he may have good feet for a big man. Clean cut chances weren't really on the cards, but we forced a couple of corners, once of which was delivered impeccably by Danno, and goodness knows how it didn't go in. Lovell at the back, and a midfield trio of Walther, Harris and Gaz had added some bulk and physicality to the midfield, and some "MINE" to every ball in the air - Pete...
Even Fardell got in on the act, using his slowly expanding busted knee to stop two one-on-ones, and his hands(!) to punch away a free kick. There was still time for Jagex to turn off badly, allowing the pacy fella to dance past 6 half hearted challenges. Clearly in a state of shock, he fluffed his chance.
Late on, Crick absolutely murdered a solid challenge, Warlord style, in one memorable moment from the second half, stopping a certain through ball. A final amusing spell saw Danno, clearly wanting to come off, absolutely belting a ball in the air clear first time, which happened to finish in a goal on the wrong field. Sweatman then came on to use all 9 of his good toes for the last little spell.
And that, was the end, of that. In 2013, we're getting better. We're just not any good yet.
Sadly, since this blog was begun, there hasn't been much of cheer to write about. Next weekend is Pete's Birthday Bonanza (TM), with friendlies on Saturday, followed by beers in the evening and a slightly hungover game on the Sunday. If you happen to be out in Cambridge on Saturday night and a group of large, obnoxious men happen to annoy you, sorry, that's us.
Fardell (GK), Walther, Gaz, Balls, Crick, Sweatman, Coles, Scottish Dave, Harris, Danno, Lovell,
Subs - Hope
Did Not Turn Up - Murby (Outrageous)
Things got better this week, only marginally mind, since we managed to improve from a 9-0 drubbing to only lose by the far more respectable score of 6-0. Who knows, at this rate, we might only lose by 3 goals next week
This week we played at Chesterton Community College. This lovely establishment engages in a number of dubious practices.
- Firstly, it throws every team into the same changing room, a changing room that is not really big enough for one team. Male changing rooms are fragrant environments at the best of times, but if you add 25-30 men into a confined space it's more like some sort of experiment in biological warfare than an area fit for human habitation.
- Secondly, Chesterton Village college has located the changing rooms in a different postcode to the pitches, meaning a fairly lengthy trudge from changing room to ground, across a main road no less.
- Finally, the pitch quality is pretty poor. We aren't accustomed to playing on finely manicured croquet lawns, but generally we expect more than a couple of dozen blades of grass to be contained within the playing area of your average 11-a-side pitch. We also expect the goalframe to be fully assembled. In this case, one of the stanchions was not attached, and the bolts were scattered nearby. There was even an open drain within the confines of the outfield. I suspect even crack addicts desperate to shoot up would turn their nose up at this quality of open space.
The weather was really rather cold, leaving a frozen field, more suited to viking raids than football. I won't try and pin the weather on Chesterton Community College, not this week anyway. I'm sad to say that the length of the introduction before I mention any actual football is indicative of what was actually entertaining on the day: much of the football most certainly wasn't, at least from our perspective.
As we were just about to start, Lovell and Crick engaged in a first: a pre-match fallout. Come on chaps, save it for half time at least. We lined up with a different team from last week, as we had lost Manu, Piers is still missing presumed dead, Ryan may have been hanging out in Norwich, and some other regulars weren't available. This week's villain was Murby for not managing to attend, crying off quite late.
We started badly, coming under some early pressure from kick-off and didn't really exert any hold on the ball. Fardell had some amusing moments, racing off his line badly and also popping one behind for a corner, which in all truth he didn't really know much about. He was then forced into a heavy challenge with his own defender, Balls, coming off with a rather misshapen knee.
Crick was slotting in alongside Balls trying to play from the back. Danno saw a little of the ball on the left and, after some neat interchanges with Scottish Craig, fashioned a few half chances. Pete looked sadly isolated up-front and everyone was deathly quiet, just absorbing pressure and hoping for the best. Walther managed one nice push forward, exchanging a pass with Sweatman - he of the extremely gammy toe, but none of it came to anything other than attack after attack from the Dobblers.
Then they scored. A hopeful punt was brought down and lashed hard towards goal. It was quite close to Fardell, but he parried it straight back out into the path of an onrushing striker to easily tap home. 1-0 - and my teflon coated gloves clearly need replacing. Balls carried on working hard winning balls in the air, but it was very much one-way traffic. Harris was being forced to help out more and more, even in this early stage of the game, to try and give the defence some semblance of cover. Sadly it was soon 2-0, as the defence backed off an advancing striker. He let rip, the ball was deflected by Walther's shoulder, leaving Fardell diving at thin air.
The third was rather unfair. A spot of good defending from Gaz and Walther had seen the ball out for a goalkick. The ref thought it was a corner, and rather unsportingly, the Dobblers didn't correct him and only chuckled at their good fortune. One of their chaps rose highest to nod home an easy chance. The Dobblers had their tails up at this point, and one player let fly from range with an absolute screamer. Fardell had no hope, but in an effort to make the goal look good, he dived theatrically. Thankfully the ball cannoned back off the post.
Jagex were really struggling to cope with several Dobblers players, including a Usain Bolt/Theo Walcott hybrid down the right. He could best be described as quick with a poor touch, and he repeatedly got himself into loads of good positions but then didn't really know what to do once there. Even when he fluffed it up he was enjoying himself. Jagex were camped in their half, Lovell was seeing nothing of the ball, and Sweatman had gone off early to allow the return of the Hope; a bit like return of the mac, but shorter, more white, and less prone to criminality.
Being overrun in midfield, Dobblers were taking any opportunity to shoot, and Jagex were backing off repeatedly. One player advanced, let fly with another screamer, and again Fardell dived just to make it look good, as it nestled in the net behind him. Briefly Jagex saw a bit more of the ball, after a re-jig in formation saw Walther helping out more in the centre of the park. Fardell then actually made a save, pushing one wide. As Jages exerted more pressure, it turned out that at the back, the Dobblers defence had yet to awake from their slumber. After some good play from Danno and Scottish Craig, and some fortune, Jacob found himself clean through. Sadly he could only tamely send the ball in the direction of their keeper.
Just before half time, Dobblers made it 5-0, when the Usain Bolt chap outstripped Hope for pace, and slotted home. Half time -5-0 again. # sad face.
The second half started in much the same way as the first, and Dobblers quickly found themselves 6 up. Some neat play around the box fell to a forward around the penalty spot, who slotted home. Then something strange happened, Jagex finally woke up and decided to play a bit more. Hope helped start a couple of attacks. Balls strode forward menacingly more than once. Also, our very own twinkle toed giant, Harris, decided to get out his dancing shoes and show a couple of us that he may have good feet for a big man. Clean cut chances weren't really on the cards, but we forced a couple of corners, once of which was delivered impeccably by Danno, and goodness knows how it didn't go in. Lovell at the back, and a midfield trio of Walther, Harris and Gaz had added some bulk and physicality to the midfield, and some "MINE" to every ball in the air - Pete...
Even Fardell got in on the act, using his slowly expanding busted knee to stop two one-on-ones, and his hands(!) to punch away a free kick. There was still time for Jagex to turn off badly, allowing the pacy fella to dance past 6 half hearted challenges. Clearly in a state of shock, he fluffed his chance.
Late on, Crick absolutely murdered a solid challenge, Warlord style, in one memorable moment from the second half, stopping a certain through ball. A final amusing spell saw Danno, clearly wanting to come off, absolutely belting a ball in the air clear first time, which happened to finish in a goal on the wrong field. Sweatman then came on to use all 9 of his good toes for the last little spell.
And that, was the end, of that. In 2013, we're getting better. We're just not any good yet.
Sadly, since this blog was begun, there hasn't been much of cheer to write about. Next weekend is Pete's Birthday Bonanza (TM), with friendlies on Saturday, followed by beers in the evening and a slightly hungover game on the Sunday. If you happen to be out in Cambridge on Saturday night and a group of large, obnoxious men happen to annoy you, sorry, that's us.
7 January 2013
Jagex Rogered by Rangers
Jagex 0 - 9 Long Road Rangers
Jagex - Mark Fardell (GK), Ben Walther, Gareth Edwards, Wayne Minney, Dan Crick, Danno, James Whittaker, Dave Harris, Manu, James Sweatman, Peter Lovell
Did Not Turn Up - Arash Amini (tsk tsk)
Sadly the first post on this blog is not good news for Jagex FC. The augurs were not good as we arrived at Coldhams on a day which was notable for the dense fog which blanketed the entire common. Really dense fog. The sort that makes it hard to see the goal at the other end of the field. We were, in effect, playing football in Skyrim. Had a large dragon descended out of the skies and set fire to a nearby village, it wouldn't have been a massive surprise. Indeed it might have given us something fun to talk about after the game.
The new year saw the reintroduction of right winger James Sweatman, sporting a pair of very shiny, recently tumble dried boots. We also were able to welcome Wayne "Warlord" Minney at centre back after a 6 month absence owing to some injury or other, possibly a stubbed toe.
Long Road Rangers are something of a bogey team of ours, and indeed everyone else in our league. They had managed to go the entire season 2011/12 unbeaten, and were a cut above the rest, so we did expect something of a thrashing. Still, it would have been nice to have been able to see the opposition goal, even if we very rarely threatened it.
The game started at a fairly frenetic pace, with Jagex rather holding their own. Ben and James were combining well down the right, and James looking no worse, and possibly better, for his 5 month absence from the game. At left back we had the poor man's Cafu, Dan Crick, making some penetrating, marauding runs, and leaving the entire team to cover for him on one of his forays up front. Manu was lively and was helping hold up the ball well for Pete. The best chance fell to Danno, clipping a whipped free kick just over the goal from a foul.
Harris in the centre of the park was exerting real control over the game, displaying a previously unseen turn of pace to help push the ball into some good positions, on both the right and left. Pete was being his usual handful up front, being as he is, tall and difficult to mark. He also pinged one raking cross field ball to Sweatman, who did exceptionally well to skim past two players and pull out a cross, which sadly evaded everyone.
For the first 15-20 minutes Long Road hardly had a sniff in front of goal. Warlord and Gaz were tidy at the back, with Wayne putting in at least one of his trade mark "firm but fair" full blooded challenges on the edge of the box. We were competing, and indeed dominating in parts, but without really threatening.
Then something suddenly, and very abruptly, changed. Perhaps we all suddenly realised in some collective moment of subconscious clarity that, actually, we're not that good. Maybe the christmas turkey had been dislodged. Or maybe, 20 minutes was the extent of our fitness. Whatever happened, from this point forward it very much went pectorals up for Jagex, as the floodgates opened.
Their left winger skinned past Walther, made space, and pinged in a low cross which evaded Fardell and Warlord, and was easily tapped in. Shortly afterwards a corner was only half cleared, and a Rangers player was given 10 seconds or so, in our box, to bring the ball down and pick his spot. The Rangers third followed with a moment of joyous hilarity. Warlord raced out of defence and lost the ball. In an effort to recover, he tried a bicycle kick, but only managed to trouble thin air. The fortunate Rangers player found himself one on one, and snuck in a cheeky lob.
Jagex were completely at sea, and rocked. Fardell made a reasonable one-on-one save and Harris really worked hard to try and get his foot on the ball, along with Whittaker, tracking back, with Jagex camped on their 18 yard line. The same tricky left winger from earlier then scraped the byline and pinged a cross in. Fardell decided to palm the ball into the centre of the goal using his teflon coated gloves, to allow an easy finish. Rangers then scored a fifth (which I can't even remember), and half time came. It had been a pretty brutal turnaround. #Shellshocked.
Half time saw tempers frayed, with Lovell and Crick engaging in a verbal exchange that wouldn't have been out of place at a Women's Institute annual moaning contest. Fardell tried to calm things down and failed. Jim sucked on his inhaler.
With no subs to be seen, thanks to Arash not turning up, the same team started the second half. At this point the game resembled attacked versus defence, with poor Lovell, Sweatman or Danno alternating in the role of "chap who stands on the half way line and doesn't get the ball at all". Early on a ball was clipped down the right, whipped in, cut back, and placed into the bottom right. Their seventh was very calamitous, and could have actually been worse. The Jagex defence parted like the red sea, allowing a ball to be pinged down the centre. Fardell raced out, and manhandled the striker, who calmly kept going despite the physical attention, and scored. A certain red would have been produced if he'd gone down.
At this point, even the dog walker who had stopped to watch shook his head and walked off. It was that bad. Lovell dropped back to centre back to try and stem the tide, winning a few in the air. Jagex saw a tiny little bit more of the ball - by which I mean we went from seeing "none" to "some".
One of oddest moments I've ever witnessed in Sunday league football then occurred. Danno, clearly frustrated at the shambles around him, went in a little hard on one of their trickier players. The ref blew up, and Manu then picked up the ball, holding it outstretched in both hands, which is the standard European football sign language gesture for, "but Ref, he made contact with the ball before the man, so surely it wasn't foul play". The ref, unmoved, awarded a free kick. Manu belted the ball towards the sky, and the ref produced the inevitable yellow card. Perhaps Manu didn't quite catch the colour of the card that had been brandished in his direction, as he purposefully strode of the pitch, with 20 odd minutes to go, in the direction of the changing rooms. He was last seen heading in the direction of the Dartford Tunnel, possibly never to be seen again.
Being down to 10 men was obviously great news, as we'd done sooooo well with 11 men up to this point.
Bizarrely, we briefly had some fun. Lovell and Crick made up by engaging in a little man hug. Whittaker carried on battling away. Harris once more managed to sneak past a few players and show some creativity. Even Danno and Sweatman had some possession. Warlord then got in another trade mark, extremely heavy challenge/block. The dog walker even briefly returned to watch some more.
Rangers engaged in a little bit of ole football, and finished two more goals from low thumped crosses. Fardell made a reasonable save and came off his line once. The assembled Rangers fans (we didn't bring any fans...), cheered their chaps on, and even brought on a rather porky looking substitute and cheered his every touch.
0-9, the final score. In truth, I'd like to say they didn't deserve it, but they probably did. The game was played in a good spirit, and hands were shaken at the end. Hopefully next week we shall recover, but goodness me our pride is hurt...Sadly, these things sometimes happen in Sunday league football.
6 January 2013
New Year - New Reports
This is a blog which aims to provide a factually accurate, but slightly embellished, account of the season of football Sunday League team Jagex FC.
Jagex FC is the corporate team of Jagex Limited, the online games company Most of our players work at the company, or have worked at the company at some point.
We play 11-a-side Sunday league football on Coldhams Common, Cambridge, UK in the Cambridge District and Friendly League. We play in all weather. The pitches are awful. The standard is pretty bad. But hey, we love it. The camaraderie. The banter. The moments of sheer comedy that only ever seem to arise in amateur sports.
I doubt a great many people will read this blog, other than those who are willing to pull on some poorly washed synthetic fabric at 10am on a Sunday morning, no matter how hungover, and run/jog around for 90 minutes in the hope of scoring - or just not looking terrible. If you aren't a player, well, welcome. I will do my best to avoid this reading like a stale sports report blog and will embellish everything as much as possible.
Jagex FC is captained by the one and only Peter Lovell. He's the one on the left. He's quite large (tall.. but he carries it well), loves playing football, and likes the occasional shandy in his local taverna. His organisational skills aren't the best: but most weeks he manages to book a pitch; convince 11 players to play for us; tell the opposition to turn up; and if we're really lucky, he manages to bring at least one semi-inflated football. He works in recruitment at Jagex. I hope the calibre of some of the players he brings along isn't indicative of how successful he is professionally.
Hopefully over the coming year, this blog should give you an idea of what we do on a Sunday morning, and give you a slightly more vague idea of what we do off the pitch to celebrate our wins, commiserate our losses or just what some of us like to do in our spare time.
No professional sportsperson was hurt in the making of this blog. We have, however, committed crimes against sport on a regular basis.
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