Easton Monday 2 - 1 Barely Athletic

[04 Apr : AxA Sun Life]

Seeing his chances of claiming the Golden Boot award for this season scuppered by (amongst other things) having to play in midfield, not being around, and his own poor finishing, Stu Charlton now seems to be aiming for the 'Arriving at Games in the Highest Number of Different Vehicles' award. So far this term we've seen him turn up in a) his own car b) Steve Yarrow's motor c) his mother-in-law's Postman Pat wagon and for today's game d) the back of Paul Lappin's TT, squashed up against the rear windscreen like one of those Garfields that no-one seems to have anymore. Anyway, in the absence of midfield kingpin Felix, Stu managed to disentangle himself to partner Yarrow in the middle of the pitch – forming some kind of unholy north-east alliance. Tyne and Weary, if you like.

Some of the older players (alright – Matty and I) professed their delight at only having 35 minutes per half to chase around after the youngsters and the substitute list was down to minus one come kick-off.

GAME ON, ER, GOAL!

Easton 1 - 0 Barely

Easton took note of the Bristol Rovers Johnstone's Paint Trophy Final defeat and started in exactly the opposite way: like a rocket – Steve Jones lashing in a close range, left foot volley. John Howarth arrived to join the Monday forward line and take us up to the requisite eleven and treat the crowd to his full range of backheels, flicks and tricks.

Matt No-Name was making up for the lack of Brian at the back by doing enough shouting for two, even Sir Lee was heard to shout "Come on Easter!", although whether he was encouraging his team mates or REALLY looking forward to the weekend is up for debate.

Makeshift full backs Platt and Lappin were doing a fine job, getting forward whenever possible without neglecting their defensive duties and both finding time to laugh when Stillman gave away a corner by deflecting the ball with his spud sack in the most painful way imaginable. The rest of the half was merely glimpsed through a veil of tears although I do recall Lee making a marvellous save low down to his left from the Barely Athletic striker who looks like the Bloc Party singer, and the arrival of the Morecambe flyer, Chris Newby, hotfoot from London and straight into the thick of things on the left wing.

SECOND HALF

Easton were quickly out of the blocks again. Morgan Cummins hit the side netting having torn his way through the Barely Athletic defence like a supermarket trolley dash winner. Without the trolley of course. That would be ridiculous.

Easton 2 - 0 Barely

Pete Sheridan latched onto a through ball and finished neatly, belying the hard, bumpy surface and the pressure of the situation.

Where many teams would've gone under, Athletic dug deep and produced their best football of the match, pressing Easton back as if they were an annoying piece of wallpaper that just won't stick up properly. Looking back to his beanie-best, Newby was foiled by the Barely Athletic keeper – you know, their team name makes everyone ELSE look stupid. That's clever!

Steve Yarrow produced a sliding tackle that surprised everyone by being well timed and followed it up with a volley of abuse at the referee that surprised no-one by happening at all.

Easton 2 - 1 Barely

Athletic found their way onto the scoresheet by running at the Monday defence and sticking a shot into the top corner of Lee's goal. It seems that the only way to score past the giant shot stopper is to hit the top corners from distance.

Charlton missed a chance to put the game safe by hitting exactly the same piece of side netting that Morgan had earlier and Stillman produced a sliding tackle on the edge of the area which a) he got quite upset about as no-one has mentioned how good it was, b) caused a dead leg when their forward fell on him, and c) resulted in a case of gravel rash so severe that had the neighbours asking him to turn the heating down. Shame Marcus wasn't there – he'd have appreciated it.

Despite looking rockier than the AC/DC back catalogue at times, the Easton defence held firm – mainly thanks to marvellous Matty No-Name and the tireless midfielders who constantly dropped back to help out – and the 100% league record remains.

Coach Jones declared himself delighted with the result and the battling performance, singling right-back Lappin out for special praise because he shouted at him. All that remained was for Blazer Sheridan to mysteriously lose his trousers in the changing room and drive home to a no doubt disbelieving wife and kids in a fetching shirt/trackie bottoms/shoes combo. A new nickname beckons: 'Donald! Where's your troosers?'