The Back Row Four And Afful’s Eyrie Voluminous Shorts
The Back Row Four, including Bob and Gill, had beaten me to the seats yet again, despite the fact that I had arrived at Bedford’s Eyrie at 13.40 hours. They might well have been admitted to the ground on the Thursday afternoon, making sure of their preferred chairs. It is an ambition of mine to beat them to it one day but that is head-in-clouds unrealism. The lead singer of the quartet, Gill was wearing bright pink and I was wearing a pullover of a similar but paler shade, so we had something in common for me to enter into conversation about. Apparently, her companion, Bob wouldn’t ever wear pink and so I asked him out on a date, as she dug her teeth into a burger and he tapped his stick on a concrete step.
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Joe Broad passes neatly. He did that.
Marcus Martin has chin growth... |
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Martin Watts, right, shows Marcus Martin his right foot...
"Marcus, have you any idea what I should do with this?" |
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| Scott Walker looks pensive... |
Manager Sean McCarthy looked like a mannequin who had stepped out of a Next clothing catalogue, wearing a tailored shirt and marvellously pressed trousers, whilst the coaches grafted with the players in the warm August sunshine. Ian Anear nearly wore a shade of gold to complement and co-ordinate with the team’s colours. Bizarrely, a number of elderly Bedford supporters wore club baseball caps in the unseasonably pleasant weather for an English summer, no doubt given away free to anyone proffering a valid pensioner’s bus-pass at the turnstiles. Other fans had turned up in Southend pier apparel, in order to stand near a bar and sup their beers, contrasting strongly with some of Truro’s long-distance travellers, who, bleary-eyed and wearing replica kits or t-shirts, stood near a bar and, er, supped their beers…
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| Joe Broad, second right, speaks into Jake Ash's ear-trumpet... |
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Jake Ash ponders the numbers 12 and 4.
They are SO alike, Jake... |
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| Les Afful in his galligaskins and Jake in the wrong shirt... |
Jake Ash led his team onto the field, wearing the number 12 shirt, Affully confusing, especially when he attended the coin-toss wearing 4. The local fans were fascinated by Afful’s shorts and offered guffawing advice as to how he could wear them more comfortably. I was put in mind of a playmaker for the NBA’s Atlanta Hawks; Les certainly had room in his voluminous galligaskins enough to store his cellphone, a six-pack of Red Bull, his PS3, an acoustic guitar and Joe Broad’s hair gel.
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| The goalie has no shoulder to lean upon... |
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| A minute's silence... |
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| The Madame Tussauds version of manager Sean 'Buzz Lightyear' McCarthy replaces the real one, who was away modelling for a catalogue... |
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| The referee signals to some Dresden fans behind the goal... |
Andy Watkins, in comparison to Les Afful was a genuine aerial threat but study time would be useful, if he could acquire a copy of the ‘John Carew Anthology Of Leaning, Climbing and Dragging Back’, which could be of some use to the speedster. Neither team carried a persistent threat, bar the Bolt-like pace of Watkins but Truro were slicker, usually and despite one or two defensive shenanigans, ‘keeper Armstrong-Ford was only forced into one awkward save. True, an upright aided him, plus his fearsome frown, which forced promising substitute Dan Walker, in due hypnotic trance, to miss the target totally on a brace of occasions but Truro deserved the points.
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| Scott Walker sees one wide... |
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| Les Afful has placed his legs on the wrong buttocks... |
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| ...but once he got them right, he nearly scored... |
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Jake jumps.
4 is nicer than 12... |
Joe Broad angled his shot off a defender to score, something no doubt ‘practised on the training ground’ and Marcus Martin fed Andy Taylor for a confident finish. Martin Watts led the offensive line for a cameo appearance near the end, Gill looked and sounded relieved, the home fans grudgingly admitted that City were decent going forward but a good forward line would expose them, the sun continued to shine, Sean McCarthy remained ice-cool leaning on the side of his dugout and Danny Clay’s remit to irritate Battersby and Lewis had been a complete success.
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Danny Clay, behind the glabrous Power, asks Andy Watkins which bugger hit him.
You just KNEW Danny would get even... |
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Joe Broad has scored by passing off a defender's outstretched leg...
He SO hated taking the credit. |
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| Andy Taylor has added a second for Truro... |
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| Bless... |
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| Pugh and Clay, the Enforcers... |
I waited for the fab four to vacate their seats and quickly sat on them, one at a time. Sad, yes, but really satisfying…
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