Witney is Coming

Wintney is Coming.

After 16 months of the Covid pandemic, without non-league football it has been hard.

Hard for players who have missed nearly two years of their playing careers, hard for Managers who had to build their teams from scratch and even harder for us old men who have had to go Women’s clothes shopping on Saturday afternoon at 3pm.

After losing so many old friends and loyal Martyrs from the Baby Boomer Generation over the lockdown period, it was a worrying question on the mind of the hard working volunteer board of Merthyr Town:-

Just how many would turn up for the first competitive match of the season?

Filled with optimism,cheap Carling lager and inspired by the celebrities Johnny Owen and Vicky McClure, 600 footballing souls answered the  ‘Call of Duty’ to show this may have been a Southern Premier English League match but the 3G pitch at Penydarren Park- ‘This is Wales’….’LOL’.

The attendance was boosted by the mites of the Red Lion Pub in Heolgerrig and their proud parents hoping for their children to emulate the likes of local heroes, Matthew ‘the Father’ Harris, Kerry ‘the Son’ Morgan and David ‘the Holy Spirit’ Powell.

It has been a long time since we had a Chaplain at the Club - the last being owner ‘Gerald Applin’ or Charlie to his friends.

He does deserve some stick.

It was very fitting that today’s opponents were from the reputedly richest Hamlet in England- known to the writer as the ‘Village People’- so that the conversation could start in the hospitality boxes with ‘More tea Vicar?’

It was a surprise that the Away Side were clad in orange when I would have expected the Village People to be ‘in the Navy’.

They were of course the oft misspelt Hartley Wintney FC, who just like Merthyr Town were feeling the after effects of a year in naphthalene.

There were no sign of any mothballs on the field however, as in less than 30 seconds the Hampshire Outfit were one-up, thanks to their muscular 9, Kingsley Eshun, who put the Royal Rowers in front, while our defence were still getting up from taking the knee.

Quicker than a tainted Olympian , he was out of the blocks faster than Zarnhel Hughes - referee Craig  Scriven hardly had time to comb his Elvis sideburns before he was pointing to the centre circle for the restart.

He just like the Merthyr Management looked ‘all shook up’.

The watching under-8 Red Lion children were too busy laughing at the schoolboy defending to finish their pop and crisps , sat in the normal ‘debenture’ seats of Boz and the rest of the Faithful.

Feeling as displaced as a Palestinian, I dodged my head back and fore behind the metal stanchion like a Wimbledon Umpire to ascertain which of the opposing team Kerry Morgan had ‘just ‘skinned’ with his wing trickery.

It suddenly felt like my usual pre-season optimism was about to sink without trace, but as usual cometh the hour cometh the Merthyr Town version of Napoli forward Lorenzo Insigne- Super Ian Traylor- who hit another Worldly.

Just when you think he can’t score a better goal for Merthyr then he goes and tops it.

It is is a proven fact in football or the SAS that if you don’t shoot you don’t score
or to put it another way….’Who Aberdares Wins?’

It was yet another magnificent lob over tiny Away Keeper Luke Williams for the Edward Woodward.

Hartley Manager, Anthony Millerick was apoplectic with rage at his kitman for putting his goalkeeper on boil wash immediately before the game.

1-1 and being on my third pint of the day, I started to realise that I had released some previously thought extinct moths of my own from my wallet.

For the remainder of the half, my heart was in my mouth as for every cross into the box or corner kick we looked suspect and likely to concede a second.

It was only a combination of luck, poor finishing and long Covid that kept the scores level.

This is something that will have to sorted out if our Band of Boyo Brothers are to progress further.

Mercifully, the man in black blew up for halftime with many of the debutant Merthyr players (playing together for the first time)  unsure where the Home changing rooms actually were.

Halftime meant a visit to the little boys room, hoping upon hope that Peter Wyngarde wasn’t there again- it is a strange fact that I can now drink three pints of Magic Carling but urinate four….either I have developed a problem or my mathematics is really bad ( Pee=MCSquared?).

By the time I had fought my way through the sea of tiny red shirts and gone beyond the Wall, it was 2-1 to Hartley as just in the Game of (Footballing) Thrones Wintney had come.

Talk about a ‘Stark’ reality.

It came from their best player,Jacques Unpronounceable, who converted a corner with ease, as he rose high above the players from the Welsh Shire of Middle Earth, planting a header in Zinedine Zidane fashion into the net (rather than Marco Materazzi’s chest) with great force.

2-1 and another potential Hart Attack.

But what the makeshift miniature Merthyr Munchkins lack in height, they make up for in spirit and on 72 minutes Town were level after new signing, Fraser Thomas, silently ghosted at speed through the back ‘Row’ of the Hampshire Hamlet (who were busy having a cigar) like an electric Citroen car from programme sponsors Thomas & Davies at Pentrebach Road ( 01685 722773 - ask for Father Grant).

As invalidity claimants threw their walking sticks in the air in celebration, after my initial joy had subsided, I suddenly realised I had another 17 minutes left to contain my overstretched bladder and preventing my Malaysian Dagger from staining my jeans- no one wants a Kris Leek that late in the game.

After me checking my watch more times than Alex Ferguson and some wonderful ‘Match of the Day’ saves from goalkeeper Steve Cann- (the best shot stopper since John Lennon)- the game finished honours even with a point each a fair result for two sides, both of which deserved something out of it.

With Autumn just around the corner and flu season about to start in Earnest, let’s hope that it is only Wintney that is coming and not a Third Tsunami.

Boz