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Reserves 2-1 Derby
Reserves 2-1 Derby
Wednesday, 1st May 2002 23:37

Old Git reports as Town's second string end their glorious season by winning the FA Premier Reserve League (South).

(Dateline: May Day, 2002. Kick-off delayed as busloads of flinty-faced, anti-capitalist widowers in fluffy-collared brown car-coats clog turnstiles, moaning indecipherably about Blair, Thatcher and Cripps; it may have been 'crisps'. Ashley, the KO wasn't delayed. As per usual, the East Anglian's expectations about the match were not realised. There was a 40% shortfall in their crowd estimate. No matter).

TOWN WIN MORE TROPHIES IN SEASON THAN MANURE
MEN REDUCED TO WEEPING IN THE STREET LIKE LADIES
QUEEN PLEDGES TO 'CARRY ON' REGARDLESS
HEADLINE WRITER CONFUSED BY BLUE JOY

by OldGit@Res.Com.NotEu (dressed, funnily enough, exactly as a young man on the Message Board anticipated: lime green flannels, Hackett jacket and bowler hat; his mum must have been texting him from the game).

Under a Mike Salmon-pink sky tonight, though the brightness of the sky lent a daytime feel to the game, strangers embraced strangers and many gross of gross old men pressed their damp, gnarled lips onto those of Co-op waitresses out for an evening's Life, as Ipswich Town Reserves set off scenes of mad-eyed celebration not seen at Fortress-ish Portman Road since VE Day; well, since we beat Middlesbrough, anyway...by winning the FA Barclaycard Premier Reserves League (South). Wresting the title from the very grumpy grasp of Derby County, the team that, for the past two seasons, has stood astride the Premier Reserve League (South) like....the Gladiator over that fat Caesar, or like a remaindered Manchester United. Or like Ann Robinson over a lumpen hairdresser from Rhyl. Or like Mrs OldGit when I took that FishInABag out of its bag, to cook it. (This is called putting your Or in a lot).

We won. Not since the time of Nelson (the Norfolk Lord, not the pleasant African) have the sardine-packed, fish-niffing terraces of The Cobbold-Together Stand hummed with the gay sight and smell of so many happy, hairy-nostrilled, car-coated...sorry, that's enuf.

Umm, but why did we win? Derby County play at Sunderland, next week, I seem to remember, in a match that we desperately need Derby to win: couldn't we have allowed them the five goal advantage, tonight, that might have gifted them The Championship? Or have I been infected by the weaselly-thinking of The World's Least Gracious Loser, Sir Alex Ferretface? I can tell you that Derby weren't best pleased, tonight, and will point to our massive bookings tally -five! - and say that we weren't very nice to them, and they had a man sent off, rather unluckily, not the first time that that has happened to Derby County at Portman Road this season. Let's not spoil the night, though.

Oh, and, as I climbed into my beautiful British Racing Green Jaguar, after the celebrations, I tuned in my wireless only to hear a vile rendition of 'On The Ball, City.' No. Let's ignore the real world.......

As brave but tearful Ulricarcarcar handed over the trophy (a well-buffed bust of Annunciata Del'Olio) to a firm but moist Justin Miller, the effete little Boering Reserves' captain that no-one has heard of, surely only Slovenia's favourite son, Amir Karic, could have been happier (as, with all the likeliness of Nancy WellOileddio dumping Sven for me, Karic took possession, in some far-off land, of a champion's medal, Maribor winning the title for the sixth year running and they must therefore perhaps qualify for the Metaltec Suffolk and Ipswich League, Division Two (South) if Amir is their star (he was in talks with Cockfield United earlier this season, I hear, but negotiations broke down when he bit the manager's dog. Actually, that's true). (Editor's note: actually, it's not and there cannot ever, ever be grounds for mentioning him again unless he dates Ulrika. Oh, only a matter of time, then).

Will there ever be this number - 6,405--at Portman Road again? Will relegation burn away all those 'Darren Stewart is my favourite player' supporters? I hope not. In my dull real life, the only impressive words that I can ever use are, 'I've been a season ticket holder for over a quarter of a century'. I need part-time supporters, to impress.

No doubt Magic Jim Magilton thought he was impressing we regular, re-heated Reservers by deigning to drop by and win a medal. Sorry, Madge, you've already very well earned a Relegation Winners' medal; only Official Reserves, like Fab Ian, can qualify for tonight's honour table.


(To touch a more serious note for a moment, I hope Madge's son is recovering from his undisclosed ailment, and that for tonight, perhaps only momentarily, Dale Roberts has forgotten his cancer. There, I've reminded him. And another thing: people are calling for a cull of the backroom boys, but here's a pat on the back for Roberts' back-boys, Ian Smith and Ken Goody, whoever they are. Such unremarked men, be reminded, are paid annual stipends equal to Garfield Croft's cab tips. Noticing, to take an example at random, how Hermannn has forgotten how to cross the ball, perhaps we need more coaches, not fewer. Sorry, but just one more thing, so I can clear my desk/chest: Ipswich Town's Academy Player Of The Year is full-back Will Snowdon. His reward? His P45! Is this Arsenal? Remind me, did we dredge up the sludge from the bottom of the European barrel, and find Karic? But we sack Snowy?)

No more serious notes. Promise.

Actually, Magic was excellent, this evening, the shadows lengthening over both the stadium and his career. He fits in well with our skilful young stars, as he can play football. And Snowy's competition, left-back Matt Richard - close cropped fair hair, not that tall -was one of many stars, but losing Snowy is sad. Nicholls came on for a ten final minutes, but the man he replaced, Ian Westlake, too visually anonymous to describe, has replaced Nicholls in the pecking order. Our Yoofs' production line churns out all these Darrens and Matts like the US does golfers.

Town: Mike Salmon; Wilnis (Erdem Ourtune), Justin Miller (c), Brown, Matt Richards; Darren Ambrose, Matt Bloomfield, Magic, Ian Westlake (Ashley Nicholls); Darren Bent, Alun Armstong (Matt Robinson). Subs unused: Lewis Price, Lee Beevers.

DERBY COUNTY: Pretty well impossible to say, as the posh programme was printed days ago, so one had to rely on a) my old ears, and b) the announcer racing through eleven unfamiliar names, choosing them at random from a list of twenty unfamiliar names. I managed Andy Oakes, Ian Evatt and Lewis Hunt, none of whom did owt. Then Marvin Robinson, whose family resemblances to his parents, Marvin and Smokey, were easy to identify - he was replaced after 67 mins by Marcus Tudgay, whom we must pray helps stuff the Mackems and they had Gareth McKeown, their Beckham free-kicker, and, finally, a player I would undoubtedly start against Sunderland, hard-running left-winger Matt O'Halloran. I mention these names as you may be listening to a wireless commentary shortly in which they may feature. And because this is my last Report of the season and I feel I have to walk the walk for you all.

The referee was Mr Conn who, er, short-changed everyone by waving his cards so freely. He booked Brown, Salmon, Wilnis, Westlake and Armstrong, for us; and their Number 8. He sent off their Number 6, for handling whilst being the last man; harsh but not totally unfair, then, eh?

Frankly, the whole of the second half was obliterated, firstly by a scintillating goal from Darren Ambrose, and then by the bookings and substitutions. The goal killed off the result, and the constant distraction of the referee's scribbling killed off the interest and the match. He wrote more than me.

The first half had built to a crescendo, in an end-to-end encounter that, though, was not contrived from hoofing, though there were hatfuls of Hoddle-like long passes, from every segment of the perfect pitch (Or does that mean something else?). I counted eight Town shots in the first half, three from tall, slim, straight-as-a-die Bent, two from Westlake, and others from Brown, who is in what the Daily Express used to call 'a rich vein of form' -whatever happens to well-loved cliches? Ah, yes, Sir George eventually picks up on them -and there were also shots from Brown's did-nothing-wrong central defensive partner, Capt Miller and Man Of The Match, Darren Ambrose, who is surely a cross between George Best and Stuart Slater, ie not the finished article but with bushels of promise. (Hatfuls, bushels, think of another one, what about "Blair-fulls of promise"?)

Ambrose might as well have come off as soon as he scored his goal just after half-time. He had nothing more to prove, and he proved that by doodling about for the final half hour. But until he 'rested his case', he was a scrawny, scraggy wizard of the wing. In the 16th min, he created Bent's first shot, and, three mins later, his second, with intelligent, probing play, teasing, pointing; beating one and then another.

Immediately afterwards, an equally clever move which, though, excluded Ambrose, led to Darren Bent's goal. Salmon set the ball rolling, literally, then it twisted on through Richards, Armstrong (making only his second appearance for the Reserves this year) and Magic (3rd appearance) before, boom, boom, Bent, 1-0.

Ambrose and Bent each made 22 outings, for the Reserves, in the season that is now closed. Then come Nicholls, Justy Dusty Miller, Gaardsøe, Abidallah, Beevers, Bloomfield, Croft, Le Pen, Tommy Miller, and Wilnis makes 12.

The two Darrens are also the two best current Reserves, but the season has been blessed with super showings from Sixto Peralta, Pablo Couñago - yes, he has a lovely Latin touch; suits you, Sir - Martijn Reuser, the flash spiv, and hang-dog Jamie Clapham, who owns a boxer. I think that the promotion of 'Mumo' was the highest highlight of the season, the match of the season being the crushing of Chelsea 4-2.

The brightest sparkle of skill, this Championship season, may have come tonight, when Darren Ambrose looked like Archie Gemmill against Holland, on the half-hour and I wish that had finished with a goal, like it did for Archie.

Sadly, just before that joy came Derby's goal, a humdinger of a 35 yard blaster from Number 3 [Luciano Zavagno], a Steve Perryman lookalike, who drew applause from us all, as he ballooned the net, after some piggy-fiddlin by our right-sided defenders. We came to hate Stevie for his 'foreign' gamesmanship which became more pronounced as the game went on, but should we really have been alienating him; giving him money might have been more prudent, in view of The Outstanding Fixture.

Er, I've already told you that Darren Ambrose scored the winner, in the 49th minute, feeding the ball through everyone's legs, beyond the goalie's right arm. TOWN 2-1 DERBY COUNTY

'Leaping' 37-year-old Mike Salmon is angling (!) for another contract. OK, but, for the same money, he must be available for some stewarding, on match days, and he must drive the bus. Otherwise, you couldn't justify an Old Division Two club feeding the families of Sereni, Marshall, Branagan, Salmon, Pullen, Price and Darren Kelly (the latter being last year's ab-fab Yoof goalie, who has suffered injury this year and must not suffer forgetment just because of that. Forgetment is what I suffer, in relation to certain words, nowadays.) Makes goalie coach Malcolm Webster (who dips his head, upside down, in a bowl of hair dye. He does; this is just reportage) seem good value for money, though, if he's got a galaxy of goalies to tutor. Got to be an 8-seater Galaxy, though. Myself, I'd tin Salmon.

Perhaps Salmon was blinded by the same sun as me, that shone through the Kandinski concrete rectangles between the North and West Stand, when 'Pinkie' misjudged a well taken free-kick and took the ball out of play, conceding a corner, his appeals against which earned him a yellow card.

But let's not go into all that booking detail again. It was a good night, in its small way, for Ipswich Town. Like you, I'm praying for a miracle, this week, and, like you, I realise that it's unlikely, but it's only a silly game. We'll enjoy it just as well, next year, if we have to suffer the Old Division Two. Keep the faith. I'll be back, no doubt, if I'm spared, with these daft Reports, though this one has been rather normal, hasn't it?

Normal? I hope not !

THE END OF THE SEASON. WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS. THOUGH NO-ONE WILL NOTICE.

copyright oldgit@reserves MMII

oldgit@reserves and oldgit@res.com.eu are registered trade marks

oldgit got thru two flasks of tea tonight;
oldgit will have nowt to do all summer, now;
oldgit will have to go, now, as he is burstin;
oh, oldgit can stay, now, if you like; oh hell.


Photo: Action Images



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