Sunday 8th September 2013, Central Park Malvern
Central Park 3 - Old Melburnians 2
Central Park are......
Stayin' Alive!
as for good Old Melburnians.....
Things are so much easier to say when you feel your feet touch the bottom....
The stakes were massive in a final round relegation battle, and this match lived very much up to the hype. Plenty of goals, niggle and spice complemented a fiercely fought contest that quickly see-sawed to the dizzying heights Sunday football is famous for before being suddenly plunged to depths as low as the outgoing wooden spooned Boroondara Eagles. Oh yes, nobody wanted to take the ugly duckling to the dance this year..... but sure enough, one of these two sides would be joining the men in purple in Division 3.
What a way to round out a roller coaster season for the boys in blue and white, who'd dug themselves a nice old hole the week prior with a surprise loss.
There was an air of genuine tension buzzing through the change rooms prior to kick off this week, the butterflies very apparent for Petrakos who sent a scare through the Central Park camp revealing he'd left the all important half time oranges in the fridge at home. Old fashioned wisdom was on hand to quell the nerves though, Paul Davies, John Klotz and big Neil Appleton of Masters fame were key inclusions this week and their experience when it mattered was to prove invaluable.
One never knows what an Old Melburnians side is going to throw up - the only guarantee being that they'll definitely by younger, and therefore faster and fitter than us. No surprises then, that Rangers speedster Ian Loh was paired up with one of the away side's more zippy pup's, and wore him like a glove in a solid defensive display. An injured Richard Owen watched from the sideline with his plus one to cheer on this lads, and the intrigue didn't end there. The Master's timely forfeit provided several club stalwarts the afternoon off and a chance to bask in the sun and cheer the Central Park 'stars of tomorrow' to victory.
So it all began, and a cracking pace was set early with both sides frenetic in their attack on the ball. Tom Davies flew out of the blocks quickest, involved in absolutely everything and playing well above his weight with a fearless attack on the ball. Old Melburnians responded in kind with some slick passing and a bloody dangerous midfield who seemed to create the required space despite the hot pace.
Central Park ventured on the attack first, Alex B's slick footwork nearly paying dividends up front for the blue and white. However it was the unsung heroics of Brian, who, adopting the Mark Viduka role, had by far his best outing of the season - moving to space, providing a target, and holding the ball up back to goal before laying off to feet. The likes of Canonball Jones and Tom couldn't have asked for better service and were never too far away from testing the keeper.
The Central Park pressure was relentless, and amid all the attacking flare on show came a goal from an unlikely source as towering Neil Appleton justified his long run up from centreback. Young Tom the orchestrator once again, landing one of his long raking throw-ins on the head of a 20c piece for Neil to head home.
The tempo lifted another notch, and it was this Old Melburnians that put the acid on Central Park. Steve trying his best to keep the shape at the back as the away side's passing game started to see some leaky defense down the Rangers flanks. A couple of close calls were saved only by conceding the odd corner, which Central Park nervously ferreted out of harms way. As quickly as the ball was cleared though, it seemed to be coming back in just as quick.
Room on the edge of the 18 yard box suddenly seemed to be in endless supply, and Old Melburnians had their first direct shot away as a well beaten Tim in goals ducked to the sounds of a bullet ricocheting off the crossbar. The engineers were still inspecting the structural integrity of the posts when another torpedo was fired from long range once again, this time to Tim's right. Ranger's weren't to be so lucky this time, as newly installed DRS technology would prove their undoing - the shot cannoning off the crossbar and down over the line for a Old Melburnian equaliser - meanwhile Frank Lampard could be pictured shaking his head in a dark and seedy Chelsea hovel....
The lads were as rattled as the crossbar, and their defensive set up now had more holes in it than the shitty Stonnington Council nets. Old Melburnians smelt the fear in the air, and went in for the kill. A horrible mix up at the back found space between the Rangers last line of defence and Tim in goals who caledl the stray pass his own. Ten years ago he'd have been caressing the size 5 safely in his bosom.. Not at age 32, as the quicker and a tad more agile (lighter) Old Melburnian pounced, beating Tim to the ball and pushing it pass the No. 1 for the away side's second.
Parity then almost ensued against the run of play for Central Park. Almost i say, and who better to explain the almost part than the man who created all the chaos, Nick 'cannonball' (feathertouch) Jones:
Miss, can only be described as easily the worse miss of my life.
After a jinking run and a neat one two the OM's defence opened up like the parting of the red sea for Jones just to stroll through on goal, with just the keeper to beat and sending him to the deck with a little shimmy shimmy shake, Jones just had the green grass of Central park in front of him. Then came the moment (that if we lost he would never live it down) 4-5 yards out, no pressure, keeper on the deck, the ball didn't bobble, on his right foot, #16 passes it into the back of the net, wait a minute, that's what all 21 players plus the laziest ref in the world thought was about to happen but the big #16 from central park had different ideas, he thought he would spice the game a little and miss the absolute unmissable (and let Stu off the hook for the worst miss of the season) and hits it against the left hand post for the ball to cannon out beyond Alex P's outstretched foot and away for a goal kick. 2 - 1 down still! And all Jones could do was laugh.
Half time couldn't come quick enough for Central Park who all of a sudden were hanging on for dear life, and quite fortunate not to concede 1 or 2 more. In one final act of Thespianism, the away side's lippy, lanky and rather precocious team pest knocked Rod over for the hell of it. This after putting the laces into Tom as he lay on the ground, and a colourful verbal stoush with dad/linesman Paul. As both sides trotted to their respective huddles, the young fella was put on notice by Captain Cresswell.
The halftime talking point involved a rock, paper, scissors play off between the lads for first dibs on lanky No. 7. That, and settling things right down as it was clear a few relegation flavored jitters had crept in.
Off we went, and fresh legs in the form of Paul, Gaz and Stu were welcomed, and needed, as this one was going down to the wire. Steve and Rod swapped positions for the sake of team balance (and sanity!) and the Central Park of old (the winning version) was rolling again.
Petrakos cranked it up a notch and began to beat multiple opponents, and the passes started to really stick. A couple of close offside calls saved both sides, and No. 7 continued to stir the pot and at one stage got in the face of mild mannered Paul. With no shortage of enemies gunning for his head, it was with sheer delight and very much at long odds, that it would be the referee that bring him undone. His gangly post-pubescent frame left him in all sorts, handballing square in front of the ref inside the box. True to form, he squawked and carried on like an unpaid hooker at the ref, even after Steve had buried the spot kick AND dished out some comeuppance just for good measure. "He who laughs last" i tell ya......
At 2 all, the Rangers spark was about again and desperation from all to get the job done very much evident. Brian continued his Viduka inspired cameo, matched by Stu who like a right tack in the arse for Old Melburnians made some last ditch spoils to thwart the away sides scoring intent.
It was second and third efforts like this, that paved the way for Ranger's attacking elite to get their chances, and at one stage Canonball's twinkle toed, sweet feet got so carried away, he was passing opponent that weren't even there! Acorn never falls far from the tree though - my spies at the Caxton in Brisbane tell me that in another life the lad could regularly be spotted dancing by himself, 4am most Wednesday nights, brandy lime'n'soda in tow.....
Still wiping yolk off his face from the first half, Canonball had ground to make up for that first half miss, so i'll hand back to him for another wee moment:
As central park pressured for the win to keep out of relegation they steamed down the pitch wave after wave looking for the winner, after some brilliant team play from the back to the front and down the left-hand side of the park, the ball was played into Brian's feet who laid off to Jones, being outside the box is where he feels more at home and after beating his wood be defender Jones pulls the trigger with his left and it rockets into the top left hand corner for what turns out to be the winner and relegation saver. Move over Maradona 1994 world cup vs Greece. Canonball Jones golden croc winner from last year is back in town (too little too late in the last game of the season and let's not forget that miss in the first half!!!)
Don't know about you, but it's his modesty i like best.....
3 -2 and Central Park suddenly had one foot on dry land, their eagerness obvious and at times blatantly impatient (e.g. Rod asking "how long to go?" 5 minutes into the second half). Enthusiasm then began to morph into rambunctious, clumsy tackles causing themselves all sorts of chaos. Central Park held their collective breath, as several free kicks flew and corners flew over the bar.
Tim in goals suddenly had his goalkeeping counterpart standing next to him for an Old Melburnian corner, and we knew then that OM's were both desperate and running out of time. A last ditch goal mouth scramble kicked up a heap of dirt on a pitch that's had a long year. The dust settled, and the Central Park No. 1 emerged with the ball in one hand, and the keys to safety in the other.
Never a dull day in the life of a Central Park footballer, and in typically Malvern-esque fashion, the lads celebrated with (and i borrowed this from one of our Masters brethren) "afters served", consisting of some beer i can't pronounce and some pro-celiac fruitcake i couldn't eat, courtesy of Rowland's shameless cross promotion.
Now for the fun stuff, October 5 for a merry one - who's in!?
Best: Tom
The Rest: Brian, Stu, Alex B, Petrakos, Nick
Christy Brown: do i need to say it?
Central Park 3 - Old Melburnians 2
Central Park are......
Stayin' Alive!
as for good Old Melburnians.....
Things are so much easier to say when you feel your feet touch the bottom....
The stakes were massive in a final round relegation battle, and this match lived very much up to the hype. Plenty of goals, niggle and spice complemented a fiercely fought contest that quickly see-sawed to the dizzying heights Sunday football is famous for before being suddenly plunged to depths as low as the outgoing wooden spooned Boroondara Eagles. Oh yes, nobody wanted to take the ugly duckling to the dance this year..... but sure enough, one of these two sides would be joining the men in purple in Division 3.
What a way to round out a roller coaster season for the boys in blue and white, who'd dug themselves a nice old hole the week prior with a surprise loss.
There was an air of genuine tension buzzing through the change rooms prior to kick off this week, the butterflies very apparent for Petrakos who sent a scare through the Central Park camp revealing he'd left the all important half time oranges in the fridge at home. Old fashioned wisdom was on hand to quell the nerves though, Paul Davies, John Klotz and big Neil Appleton of Masters fame were key inclusions this week and their experience when it mattered was to prove invaluable.
One never knows what an Old Melburnians side is going to throw up - the only guarantee being that they'll definitely by younger, and therefore faster and fitter than us. No surprises then, that Rangers speedster Ian Loh was paired up with one of the away side's more zippy pup's, and wore him like a glove in a solid defensive display. An injured Richard Owen watched from the sideline with his plus one to cheer on this lads, and the intrigue didn't end there. The Master's timely forfeit provided several club stalwarts the afternoon off and a chance to bask in the sun and cheer the Central Park 'stars of tomorrow' to victory.
So it all began, and a cracking pace was set early with both sides frenetic in their attack on the ball. Tom Davies flew out of the blocks quickest, involved in absolutely everything and playing well above his weight with a fearless attack on the ball. Old Melburnians responded in kind with some slick passing and a bloody dangerous midfield who seemed to create the required space despite the hot pace.
Central Park ventured on the attack first, Alex B's slick footwork nearly paying dividends up front for the blue and white. However it was the unsung heroics of Brian, who, adopting the Mark Viduka role, had by far his best outing of the season - moving to space, providing a target, and holding the ball up back to goal before laying off to feet. The likes of Canonball Jones and Tom couldn't have asked for better service and were never too far away from testing the keeper.
The Central Park pressure was relentless, and amid all the attacking flare on show came a goal from an unlikely source as towering Neil Appleton justified his long run up from centreback. Young Tom the orchestrator once again, landing one of his long raking throw-ins on the head of a 20c piece for Neil to head home.
The tempo lifted another notch, and it was this Old Melburnians that put the acid on Central Park. Steve trying his best to keep the shape at the back as the away side's passing game started to see some leaky defense down the Rangers flanks. A couple of close calls were saved only by conceding the odd corner, which Central Park nervously ferreted out of harms way. As quickly as the ball was cleared though, it seemed to be coming back in just as quick.
Room on the edge of the 18 yard box suddenly seemed to be in endless supply, and Old Melburnians had their first direct shot away as a well beaten Tim in goals ducked to the sounds of a bullet ricocheting off the crossbar. The engineers were still inspecting the structural integrity of the posts when another torpedo was fired from long range once again, this time to Tim's right. Ranger's weren't to be so lucky this time, as newly installed DRS technology would prove their undoing - the shot cannoning off the crossbar and down over the line for a Old Melburnian equaliser - meanwhile Frank Lampard could be pictured shaking his head in a dark and seedy Chelsea hovel....
The lads were as rattled as the crossbar, and their defensive set up now had more holes in it than the shitty Stonnington Council nets. Old Melburnians smelt the fear in the air, and went in for the kill. A horrible mix up at the back found space between the Rangers last line of defence and Tim in goals who caledl the stray pass his own. Ten years ago he'd have been caressing the size 5 safely in his bosom.. Not at age 32, as the quicker and a tad more agile (lighter) Old Melburnian pounced, beating Tim to the ball and pushing it pass the No. 1 for the away side's second.
Parity then almost ensued against the run of play for Central Park. Almost i say, and who better to explain the almost part than the man who created all the chaos, Nick 'cannonball' (feathertouch) Jones:
Miss, can only be described as easily the worse miss of my life.
After a jinking run and a neat one two the OM's defence opened up like the parting of the red sea for Jones just to stroll through on goal, with just the keeper to beat and sending him to the deck with a little shimmy shimmy shake, Jones just had the green grass of Central park in front of him. Then came the moment (that if we lost he would never live it down) 4-5 yards out, no pressure, keeper on the deck, the ball didn't bobble, on his right foot, #16 passes it into the back of the net, wait a minute, that's what all 21 players plus the laziest ref in the world thought was about to happen but the big #16 from central park had different ideas, he thought he would spice the game a little and miss the absolute unmissable (and let Stu off the hook for the worst miss of the season) and hits it against the left hand post for the ball to cannon out beyond Alex P's outstretched foot and away for a goal kick. 2 - 1 down still! And all Jones could do was laugh.
Half time couldn't come quick enough for Central Park who all of a sudden were hanging on for dear life, and quite fortunate not to concede 1 or 2 more. In one final act of Thespianism, the away side's lippy, lanky and rather precocious team pest knocked Rod over for the hell of it. This after putting the laces into Tom as he lay on the ground, and a colourful verbal stoush with dad/linesman Paul. As both sides trotted to their respective huddles, the young fella was put on notice by Captain Cresswell.
The halftime talking point involved a rock, paper, scissors play off between the lads for first dibs on lanky No. 7. That, and settling things right down as it was clear a few relegation flavored jitters had crept in.
Off we went, and fresh legs in the form of Paul, Gaz and Stu were welcomed, and needed, as this one was going down to the wire. Steve and Rod swapped positions for the sake of team balance (and sanity!) and the Central Park of old (the winning version) was rolling again.
Petrakos cranked it up a notch and began to beat multiple opponents, and the passes started to really stick. A couple of close offside calls saved both sides, and No. 7 continued to stir the pot and at one stage got in the face of mild mannered Paul. With no shortage of enemies gunning for his head, it was with sheer delight and very much at long odds, that it would be the referee that bring him undone. His gangly post-pubescent frame left him in all sorts, handballing square in front of the ref inside the box. True to form, he squawked and carried on like an unpaid hooker at the ref, even after Steve had buried the spot kick AND dished out some comeuppance just for good measure. "He who laughs last" i tell ya......
 |
| (Charades anyone? - I must say, No. 7's illustration of his handball was 'interesting', in the least....) |
It was second and third efforts like this, that paved the way for Ranger's attacking elite to get their chances, and at one stage Canonball's twinkle toed, sweet feet got so carried away, he was passing opponent that weren't even there! Acorn never falls far from the tree though - my spies at the Caxton in Brisbane tell me that in another life the lad could regularly be spotted dancing by himself, 4am most Wednesday nights, brandy lime'n'soda in tow.....
Still wiping yolk off his face from the first half, Canonball had ground to make up for that first half miss, so i'll hand back to him for another wee moment:
As central park pressured for the win to keep out of relegation they steamed down the pitch wave after wave looking for the winner, after some brilliant team play from the back to the front and down the left-hand side of the park, the ball was played into Brian's feet who laid off to Jones, being outside the box is where he feels more at home and after beating his wood be defender Jones pulls the trigger with his left and it rockets into the top left hand corner for what turns out to be the winner and relegation saver. Move over Maradona 1994 world cup vs Greece. Canonball Jones golden croc winner from last year is back in town (too little too late in the last game of the season and let's not forget that miss in the first half!!!)
Don't know about you, but it's his modesty i like best.....
3 -2 and Central Park suddenly had one foot on dry land, their eagerness obvious and at times blatantly impatient (e.g. Rod asking "how long to go?" 5 minutes into the second half). Enthusiasm then began to morph into rambunctious, clumsy tackles causing themselves all sorts of chaos. Central Park held their collective breath, as several free kicks flew and corners flew over the bar.
Tim in goals suddenly had his goalkeeping counterpart standing next to him for an Old Melburnian corner, and we knew then that OM's were both desperate and running out of time. A last ditch goal mouth scramble kicked up a heap of dirt on a pitch that's had a long year. The dust settled, and the Central Park No. 1 emerged with the ball in one hand, and the keys to safety in the other.
Never a dull day in the life of a Central Park footballer, and in typically Malvern-esque fashion, the lads celebrated with (and i borrowed this from one of our Masters brethren) "afters served", consisting of some beer i can't pronounce and some pro-celiac fruitcake i couldn't eat, courtesy of Rowland's shameless cross promotion.
Now for the fun stuff, October 5 for a merry one - who's in!?
Best: Tom
The Rest: Brian, Stu, Alex B, Petrakos, Nick
Christy Brown: do i need to say it?
