Old Git was at this afternoon's tense reserves pre-season friendly between Town and Spurs.

Town Reserves 1-2 Tottingham Reserves
by OldGit@Reserves

This was my third match of the season. The first two proved to be exceptions that prove my favourite rule: The Team That Scores First Never Loses. Peterborough and Celta Vega both felt the lash of Town's, er, back.

Today, my favourite rule applied in inviolable form, in this tense Reserves pre-season friendly at the training ground - where I hate matches being played as you cannot see properly, from behind a piece of string in a damp-underfoot field, and where the presence of Phil Ham and his nice Dad, distracts me because we prattle like cackling old women.

Spurs' oriental centre-forward, Hu Flung Dun [Qu Bo to his friends — PH], hitting past ordinary James Pullen, recently of Blackpool Reserves, after a quarter of an hour, and then their left winger (Bernie Grant? I didn't have a team sheet [Franco Parisi]) tapping in Pullen's parry after big, shaven-for-the-new-season, puffing 'Billy' Beevers had gone AWOL 15 mins into the second half.

Hard running, poor passing, busy Beevers was immediately subbed by the assured, very young, very mature Chris Hogg, whose neck is as short as his fellow centre-back's is long, Justin Miller being a giraffe; not surprising, as he's an effete Boer, and suddenly, to me, Dusty Justy Miller seems to be dominating the defence; people are deferring to him as he strides across the Bent Lane veldt like a trekkie (Or was it trekker?).

Marytin Re-user had equalised through the penalty spot after being up-ended just before half-time. Does he look like a Dutch international? His facial growth is modelled on Van Dyck, but that's his closest resemblance to a Dutch international. Nicholas van Hoogstraten, to my mind, would probably be ahead of him, in the listings. The Stiffs has become Rooster's natural medium of expression. His future's not Orange.

And, talking of expressions, what other faces can Jermaine do? He's razored his head right down to his eyebrows and that dome now glows grey, like the Mekon, and his eyes glower. He really must be the fun bunny of the dressing room, his cheeky quips and Gazza-like tricks the talk of the Christmas party. NOT. He swore and grunted throughout the game, and quite scared the three children I dragged to the game and the Spurs midfield.

Jamma put through some good balls - and I talk some - but where is the artistry of Mumo, whose loaning to a poverty stricken Buenos Aires team is a backward step for him and us? Or Pablo, whose progress turns out to be real. He was the spark that ignited Town's flame on Saturday, wasn't he? And, when Bent crossed for Ambrose, you could see that the future is not just bright, it's Dazzling. Meanwhile Mumo will be changing in the toilets and doing the washing up. OK, let it go.

Are Matt Bloomfield and Ian Westlake the young midfielders that will carry the Dazzers' torch, this season? Alun Armstrong and Richard Naylor, the Twin Towers of Orange upfront, look like two torches but their flame don't burn too bright. Matt Robinson replaced AA after an hour. None of the three of them were as sharp as spears. On the Bent Lane slope, they looked in the Yeovil class, bent over ready for a slapping.

What would Marcus Stewart have looked like, on this pitch, if he had played as he did on Saturday, when the children and I, one of whom was the Woodbridge Preparatory School's captain of both football and cricket, this past year, I'm quietly proud to say, were trying to think of kind words for 'you was rubbish'...'the Spaniards perhaps surprised him with their speed, and he may have been disappointed with his performance in front of all those open goals when he eventually made his way up the park' was perhaps the kindest we came up with. Phil Ham thought Stewart 'made a contribution in mounting attacks'. There we are, Phil, you've got the hang of the game.

Both Phil and I were conscientiously recording all the boom and biff of this game, but this is the eighth match of the pre-season friendly programme and fatigue is setting in. Let's get on with it.

If you want a little taste of the happenings, here is a sample :

--Reuser headed just wide, immediately after Spurs opened the scoring, on the quarter hour;

--a couple of minutes later, James Pullen blocked well, then Jermaine Wright set through Reuser to cross for Armstrong to head wide;

--then Spurs hit the post;

--just after half an hour, AA's header was saved, from Westlake's cross;

--on half-time, the AA had another header saved, from Makin's far-post cross. Makin? Made up the numbers. I had hoped that the man who should be his mentor, Mauricio Taricco, might be present today. I looked in vain for the Man We Have Never Replaced.

Instead, the only famous full-back in the ground was that World Cup star, slinky, svelte overpaid bullock Amir Karic - no, no, he's gone; wrong ! - now driving a leading-edge grey Nissan Almeira family saloon; last time out, one of Slovenia's greatest left-backs of all time had a swinging Rover 75, 'as you have to be a millionaire to own one'. He was greeted today by Brian Klug with those well-worn hypocritical words, 'How are you, my friend ?' Words I use myself, when I have forgotten, or cannot be bothered to recall, who the bloke is. Klug clearly thought that Karic had packed his bags and was stunned, as we all were, to see that chunky little Alpine monkey, pitchside.

Where it was a snug 22 degrees centigrade during the first half, moderating to a damp, threatening but still comfy 21 in Part Two. Minutes earlier, it had been piddlin' down but the Lord looks after his own...as all we 73 watching today will be, given a couple more years of alcohol and butty abuse of our bodies, unless our livers can be rescued, as Bestie's was.

Talking of Beattie, I'm mortified to hear that he has been replaced on the lip mike. I had thought that Kevin was doing very well, neatly turned out, clean and tidy almost. I like his nerdy and repetitive commentary, simply because it is the real view of our greatest player, not the (fractionally) more lucid view of a pleasant nobody called Lee Bracey (I'm a pleasant nobody but you don't want my view. Hang about...).

Mick Mills is a fine little alliteratively named man - a description that also incidentally fits my aforementioned son - and a great, great player up there with Kevin evin. Not my son; Millsy. But his voice is as unevin and evin more grating, isn't it?

Like David Pleat's voice. Yes, he was there, crawling along the touchline, like...well, you know what like.

Erdem Artun came on for Makin, towards the end....'listen up,' said I, 'they're playing Artun'. 'I know', said Phil without drawing breath, 'I Erdem.'

Cap that, fun bunnies.

THE END

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

oldgit sponsors woodbridgetyreandexhaust, if it costs £800 to replace an exhaust; I replaced the rear bumper for the same amount, last month; cars are a total waste of money; 'beautiful BRG Jaguar' be damned.

oldgit will never again mention either Mumo or Karic;

eyup, my underpants have just caught fire.

Photo: Action Images

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