I really love it when real life proves weirder than scientific theory and such stuff. Years and years ago I remember reading about a bunch of researchers in biomechanics studying why the cheetah runs so quickly. The conclusion being drawn was that the cheetah's supple spine was generating a not insignificant amount of the animals speed. Flushed with excitement, they drew up computer generated models and the like in the hope of applying their findings to other areas. Just before publication however, a junior researcher found a flaw in the science when he pointed out that, according to their model, you could cut all the cheetahs legs off and its back would still be capable of doing around 30 miles per hour!
Now I don't know why, but that quirky thought revisited me as I watched our new signing Ernie Bentley running with the ball during the course of our semi-final on Saturday. More panther than cheetah, he still looked in absolutely tip-top condition as, legs and arms pumping, body beautifully balanced, he seemed to positively glide across the turf.Except that he wasn't actually going that fast. He just looked fast.
"Go on, take him on!" I urged from the sidelines as Ernie faced up to their short, fat full back. "Why won't he take him on?" I muttered. "He is taking him on" mumbled Derek Lamb beside me as he glanced up from his book. "Oh"."He can't take him; you watch, he'll have to check back in a minute" said Derek, turning his page. And what do you know, the white boots turned, the defender smirked, the attack petered out. Ernie looked quietly impassive. No scientist could have explained this one. But how lucky was that TV producer who saw Ernie run at a young age and dreamt up the slow-motion sequences that were to figure so prominently in the 'Six Million Dollar Man' series! The only clue to this mystery was provided later on in the Kings Head as we watched Ernie trying desperately to re-fuel on slimline dry ginger ale instead of the more widely recognised strong continental lager. Oh well, at least he scored.
Hopefully he might even score for our team next season. Catch my drift.....
But this wasn't the tale of one man acting on his own; oh no; as every straight man needs his clown. Cast in the unfortunate role of Eric on this occasion was our other newcomer, Andy Jacobs; the self-styled Welsh Wing Wizard! (Ok, I might have made that bit up).Bless his heart! He started poorly and it went downhill from there, but what, oh what, was he thinking when, with the Woods leading 1-0, the goalkeeper and three man defence playing majestically and half-time approaching, he picked up the ball in the opposition half, turned and started dribbling back towards his own goal. As he cut our hitherto impregnable defence to ribbons, another mental image loomed large in my mind...the image of the pram in 'The Untouchables' as it slowly careers down those steps, disaster awaiting as it bounces out of control... we all shouted "Nooooooo" as he shaped up to play the inevitable deadly back pass, straight to their forward - their best forward - the one we had all been talking about in the changing room - the one we said definitely not to give any chance to - the one who used to play for Marseille in the French First Division- yeah, that one.....So that was one-all then.
I actually looked up 'Jacobean Folly' on Google and despite there being 5,020 results in the UK alone, not one of them could come close to explaining what we had just seen. There was a very interesting link to Bolsover Castle in Derbyshire, mind. Perhaps on Youtube...?
1-1 at half time quickly became 1-3 early in the second half due mainly to some sloppy defending at a couple of corners. The defence were still playing fantastically, mind. Chris Grey was confidence personified (was he ever not!!), Sony Bravia was back to his 1080 best while Tim, freed from the pressure of familial support, tided up impeccably.
In midfield, Barry got his customary knock but was anchoring things nicely, Rob Miller was steadily becoming more influential while Ray Langley hadn't put together such a string of respectable performances since shorts didn't quite cover your hamstrings.
Up front Nobby's feet were working hard, although not as hard as his tongue, while poor old Atko - whose goals had carried us through this far - was having a quiet one. It was time for a change...
Forgetting completely about the 'curse of the star of the previous reports' skipper Martin pitched Joe Henry up front. If we were to salvage anything from this game then Joe was the man to do it. Enjoying a splendid game already, we sat back ready to enjoy the fireworks, as, with fifteen minutes to go, Joe got ready to strike.
Less than five minutes later our leggy hero was being escorted off the field with the bewildered look of an Irish farmer driving his tractor who had just come to a fork in the road. Turned out to be their goalkeeper who did the striking, as, in an almost comical turn of events, he set about Joe after mistakenly blaming him for taking his legs from under him. The referee - who, it must be said, hardly covered himself in glory - compounded matters by dismissing both goalkeeper and the unfortunate Joe.
Perhaps galvanised by this injustice, the Woods pulled a goal back. 2-3.
Then the moment arrived. We could sense the poetry, the irony of it as, in the very last minute, our fallen hero Andy Jacobs cut inside first one, then a second, and prepared to shoot with his favoured left foot. Sadly the ball took off, soared over the crossbar, and was still heading north when the final whistle blew. (Apparently it was later recovered from some castle place just outside Derby.)
We were out. Our marvellous run had come to an end. To cap it all, it started to snow...Oh Eric, Oh Ernie; Bring me bloomin' sunshine indeed!!
Thanks lads, all of you. See you next season.
Glenn
Team; Chris Grey, Joe Henry, Mike Jays, Tim Ross, Ernie Bentley, Ray Langley, Barry Greenstreet, Rob Miller, Andy Jacobs, Norman Sharie, Paul Atkin, Derek Lamb.
Also in squad and important contributors this season; Mark Lomax, Tom Fothergill, Brett Cahill, Andy Stacey, Dom Drodz, David Goldring.