Hook 3–3 Andover Town

A Frantic Phone Call .............

It seems a long time since I last wrote a match report: inclement weather, family visits, holiday and a disloyal cannot be bothered to go to Portsmouth for another beating. So all my apologies. The Jones household expanded by one with the arrival of my niece on a Sunday night 5 weeks ago, after a frantic phone call from my cousin whom lives near Derby. After the frantic phone call on the Friday night before the Sunday “my eldest Rachel needs a bed to sleep in, she’s working in Overton, are you able to…”. It was a long weekend clearing 25 year’s-worth of collectables (read junk – Ed.) out of the cleanest of spare bedrooms (well done editor there). But hey ho we got Rachel in safe and sound, last time I spoke with my cousin a month previous at a funeral, before that 1 year ago on the phone, before that 25 years ago at a family party. Sometimes it’s good to have family. The next Friday saw me on kitchen duties and with the deftest touches managed to pull the oven door handle off - as you can imagine Editor was not best pleased, I tried my best to put it back together but the cooker was having none of it, so after a trip to order up a new cooker, our kitchen is now beginning to take shape (the wrong way - Ed.). All was calm until Thursday when Rachel managed to pull the kitchen blind down, the Editor looked at me and said “your side of the family, your fault” - sometimes you just can’t win. Jobless (Shadow) is slowly awakening from her winter hibernation so now we are playing the in/out of the door game while ignoring the cat flap. This involves guilt tripping my good self until I get up and open the door for her majesty. (Look just get on with the report-Ed.)

A fine Saturday afternoon found myself and Blue Army Alan on our 1st away day of the year, seems strange 3 months in although not surprising with the weather. After finally ignoring Sat Nav Sally we managed to find Hook’s ground which is combined with the cricket pitch, a venue surrounded by trees in the middle of nowhere, well a pub just down the road. After a few quick catch ups or Martyn hand your loyalty card back it was time to roll round the pitch to take our places after avoiding some swampy patches. A look at the pitch was to discover what can only be described as a thin covering of wet silt, kick off was taken at is was soon obvious the silt was like a covering of oil with players of both sides slipping and sliding. After 8 minutes of fiasco, Town broke, somehow 2 uncontrolled passes later and Jake Parton had the ball in the net Town were 1 nil up. In his excitement Blue Army Alan strolled away for a sly smoke and by the time he had returned we were 3-1 down, unbelievable. 4 minutes 4 goals and Town not for the first time this season found themselves behind. The first a fine Chris Redshaw save but a follow up from a Hook player then I just closed my eyes. The game settled down, I lie, Town brought on a sub Leon Fitzgerald, someone straight away you know would stand out head and shoulders above everyone at 6ft 8inches you’re not going to lose him in a crowd. He was put into the left back position well up against a tricky Hook player this could be interesting. Normally corners are our Achilles heel, not today it was throw-ins with the Hook No.4 launching into the box at every opportunity. Lucky for him we gave him plenty of goes. Although for once having a bit of height in our side almost put us at ease. A rare Town break saw a wicked Malachi strike hit the woodwork as the first half petered out.

A wander to the other end of the pitch for the second half saw us catch up with the rest of The Blue Army Loyal, a quick overview of the Hoo k goals was nothing could be done about them. That’s football, here we go again. Second half saw the introduction of Owen Trappnell and Peter Crouch moved into the centre of defence probably a better position. Hook pressed, Town defended with neither side seeming to get anywhere. Everytime we had a chance Hook closed it down or blocked the shot. One corner produced a chance for Peter Crouch only for his legs to get tangled and the Keeper to scramble the ball clear. The second half was 25 minutes old and I was done, resigned to another defeat, blow up ref let;s go home I’ve got a got a cat that needs treats. But like someone who is a glutton for punishment I stayed. Then something strange happened. It was a wicked shot, Charlie Pyke although blocked it seemed to put a bit of resolve into the Town - the game had shifted slightly Hook’s No.2 committed a stupid foul for no reason and completely lost his head, was lucky to escape with a yellow. Town seemed to compete more, have players in the right places, and on I’ll say 87 minutes for probably the first time this season we got the lucky bounce of the ball from a Rick ‘o’ shay off Peter Crouch to our midfield the through ball found Charlie Pyke who smashed with the venom of too many defeats past the Hook keeper. 3-2 Hook yeah we’ll take that not too bad a display from the boys, good journey home, still a defeat but there you go. Or not…. Hook kicked off and Town were upon them immediately a quick pass down the Hook left saw their No.2 go in with a poor tackle, the ref blew for a free kick, the No.2 went completely Dean Smith and was sin binned. From the resulting free kick a throw was given to Town, on the opposite side Sam Churchill had enough the fist half with Hook’s long throws and was returning the favour. Our hopes were up, would there be enough time? The ball came in, a goal mouth scramble saw Town get another chance. This is how I saw it: Sam Churchill threw the ball to the near post, whether Sam had put spin on the ball I don’t know but it hit that silt and spun through arms and legs until someone put into the back of the net. Time stood still, we waited for the ref to blow for a foul – nothing. The full might of The Town travelling fans went delirious like we had won. 3-3 from 3-1 down this will live in memory. Hook were all over the place now, discipline completely gone, 1 more minute played and full time. Still smiling 24 hours later and work doesn’t seem too bad tomorrow.

Thanks for reading (especially you Dad).

Thanks to Editor (the Wife)

Nice to rove again, Marty Jones.