COVENTRY UNITED v LITTLETON: THE POSTPONEMENT...

And the Rains Came And the Game Was Postponed And Fine Upstanding People Got Drenched And the Championship Trophy Remained Not Awarded…

The weather was overcast en route to Sphinx Drive, where a little huddle of early arrivals gathered around the hut next to the red turnstile and then spots of rain began to fall and one by one, we all stepped inside the hut, two by two, like a veritable Noah’s Ark, making room for our feet between plastic goal-frames, nets, shelves, paint-brushes, brooms, rakes, match day flags and a host of things quite unmentionable. Cans of lager appeared too and the atmosphere began to resemble a depressing soggy barbecue evening with guests squeezing into the garden shed. I used my new Starbucks coffee mug, bought for me this week by my daughter Lucy. Well, one has to keep up appearances, my dear fellows…

The rain worsened, thunder barked overhead, like the god Thor was banging his drum on behalf of Bromsgrove Sporting, who certainly wanted to prevent Coventry United from enjoying a successful evening. The curse would certainly work too. Lightning flashed, hail and then heavy rain fell, even Scouseman himself, manager Terry Anderson sought refuge with his coach and he spoke in a language that only footballers in Marbella understand, I believe. We just smiled and waited for words beginning with ‘F’, which we did understand but oddly never came.

Outside, Harry Barnes was soaked, his hair ruined, others joined a work party with brooms, rakes, spikes, even buckets but it looked pretty hopeless, in truth and I soon went out with my umbrella open to see what the pitch really looked like, after Marcus and Jason Timms had previously returned to the shed with negative shakes of their heads. I had foolishly paid to get in… I shall never forget Harry Barnes, like a kid on Bournemouth beach, who hadn’t got a wet-suit, bucketing water and casting it aside from around a penalty-spot and others a-sweeping, a-raking, a-spiking, a-cursing and a-shaking their woeful heads.

The sky however, was brighter beyond… But too far away for the officials, who inspected, discussed, postponed the match and walked away with the willing helpers, their spikes, rakes, brooms and buckets drooping helplessly. I remained wondering what had been decided for a minute or two. Maybe delay the start? No joy however, for the game had definitely been called off, unsurprisingly really, although wouldn’t you just know it, it stopped raining then…

I spoke with Edwin Greaves, the ex-manager, also Cagemen Pierre Moudime and Gift Mussa in the car-park, then left in the knowledge that Coventry United can still win the title on Saturday at Studley with one point, for Bromsgrove had won 6-2 at Bolehall Swifts on this soggy evening. I have therefore had to cancel a press-pass at Shaw Lane Aquaforce on that day, where I had been invited to go and watch Coalville Town’s play-off final but I had always promised myself that if Coventry’s players were to be awarded a trophy, I would like to be there to witness the occasion. 

The only problem I have with the shocking weather at Sphinx was that United have The Messiah, Brian Ndlovu in their ranks… Where was he when we needed him? 

Thanks for that, Brian… Seems the Norse god Thor was more effective on the evening and I do have his hammer hanging on a chain around my neck…

It’s what I do…

HARRY, LEFT, FISHES FOR CRABS...

WET MEN LOOK WET.
GRAHAM WOOD BRANDISHES HIS NEW E-CIGARETTE IN A LARGE, UPPER-CLASS HOLDER...

A-SWEEPING, A-RAKING, A-HOPING...

...& A-VAPING...

MEN STUDY GROUND...

THE FLOODLIGHT IN THE BRIGHT SKY SHONE DOWN WHERE BRIAN THE MESSIAH LAY, BUT HE DID NOTHING...

THE BODGING IS DELIGHTED THAT SOME BODGING IS GOING ON...

NO PLAYERS OWN UP TO BE A SWEEPER, A RAKER OF PASSES, OR BEING PROFICIENT WITH BUCKETS..
 
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