Blues Reserves 1 Aston Villa Reserves 2
or, Mr Whitestones Big, Big, Night
by IP Freely
Forget all about Sunday, This was Villa’s Cup Final. About 700 people turned up at St Andrews tonight, the majority of whom were Villa fans. The pink and blue was evident and the Cows logo was everywhere. It felt somewhat like the Milk Marketing Board AGM. Doug Ellis and his flunkeys were in the Directors box (actually Doug looked very fit and perky, so it looks like his health is holding up well). So, to summarise, lots of Cows, Doug in his throne, acres of empty seats – it was just like a Villa home match in every respect. Yes, this was certainly Villa’s Cup Final. I imagine there was a live video or audio feed on a website somewhere! No, I’m only joking; even Villa aren’t that sad, are they, ARE THEY?
Brucio was looking very chipper. I saw him in long and amiable discussion with a bloke who looked like Kenny Dalglish. I don’t think it was the Wee Incomprehensible Scotsman, but if it was, I imagine the conversation would have gone something like “Alright Kenny, how’s it hangin’?” “Nae bad, Steve, nae bad” “Remember that time when I kicked you all over the park?” “Cannae say I do, Steve – which particular time would ye be referrin’ tae?”
Both sides fielded a mix of experienced players and kids. Blues included Vaesen, Guitar Man Taylor and Clemence, whilst Villa included Postma, Drobny, Ridgewell, Berson, Whittingham and both Moore brothers. The early exchanges featured Villa playing the better football with Blues comically hoofing the ball up to 17-year-old Davion Hamilton, making his reserve debut against the 6 foot 8 inch Drobny.
Villa took the lead early with a well-worked goal. Berson played a neat ball inside Tom Parratt for, I think, Stephen Foley, who had stacks of time to pick out Stefan Moore, who had even more time to sign a few autographs before side footing the ball past a defenceless Vaesen.
Gradually Blues began to settle down, despite the incredibly over-fussy ‘refereeing’ (I use the term advisedly) of a Mr Whitestone of Northants. Both teams were playing some decent football. After 18 minutes Mr Whitestone made his First Big Move – he booked Marcos Painter for tugging a Viler shirt. Less than two minutes later, Whittingham pulled a player back with literally an identical foul. Mr Whitestone decided not to even speak with him! It went downhill from there…
After 25 minutes Blues equalized. It was a comical goal, straight out of the Dame Nellie Mellberg Book of Defensive Clangers. A hopeful ball came across to the statuesque lone figure of Drobny. Drobny headed the ball vertically into the air and then fell over trying to see where it was going to drop. Peter Till nipped in, seized the dropping pill, and had acres of time and space to draw Postma before chipping him very calmly. 1-1.
Well, let me tell you something – Mr Whitestone was having none of this, “oh no, not on MY pitch! I’M the centre of attention, not some spotty youth – people have paid good money to watch me referee tonight, in this big ground under all those sparkly lights”. The man was stagestruck. He couldn’t think of a reason to disallow the goal, no-one over celebrated, just a few handshakes on the way back to the centre cirle. What to do? Oh dearie me, what to do? His chance came a few minutes later…
After 33 minutes, Painter tripped a Villa forward about 30 yards out. Deffo a foul, but a pretty innocuous one. Mr Whitestone came swooping in like one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse – arms gesturing, whistle tooting, strutting and preening himself for his BIG MOMENT. The yellow card was flourished and then, with a grand sweep of the arm, somewhat reminiscent of the mustachioed villain in a Victorian melodrama, the red one was produced. I could swear I spotted an erection in his tight, black shorts, but it felt somehow impolite to stare.
That was pretty much that, as far as the game was concerned. Blues went 4-4-1 with Asa Hall dropping into the back 4, goalscorer Till relegated to midfield and 17-year-old Davion Hamilton trying to look like a lone striker. It was a waste of time and I seriously considered going home but, dear reader, I know you have been sitting in your lonely cold bedsit waiting for this report, so I stayed. Just for you.
Half time came, Doug’s nurse woke him up and he went for a cup of tea. The best bit of halftime was an impromptu tour of the stand by Clinton Morrison with an entourage of about 100 little kids of both persuasion – the Blues kids were heavily outnumbered by young Viler kids who just wanted to be close to someone who’s scored two goals and made another in local derbies. Doubtless in the morning the classrooms of Sutton Coldfield and Kingstanding will be buzzing with tales of ‘he looks just like one of our players, only he’s better’. I watched all this whilst supping an evil-tasting Bovril (£1.10), courtesy of The Sty’s Pigswill Department.
Second half, Villa huffed and puffed against the 10-men. In past reports like this, I’ve mentioned how impressive the two Moore bothers have been. Tonight they were hopeless. I don’t know what’s happened to them both but after Stefan scored his goal they did absolutely nothing worthwhile between them. I don’t know what’s gone wrong there; maybe a spell on loan to get first team football would help them both?
Mr Whitestone continued to star. He was getting frustrated because the Villa lads just wouldn’t pass to him, despite him taking up excellent positions time after time. His frustration showed most particularly when he booked Peter Till for a shirt pull on the halfway line, within five yards of where Whittingham had earlier committed exactly the same offence and walked away with ne’er so much as a word in his ear! He booked a couple of other Blues players as well, just to break the monotony.
Young Davion Hamilton went down with cramp, having run himself into the ground. Some kid called Nick Wright came on and actually looked pretty good in the lone striker role, at one point he wrong-footed two defenders, brushed past another two, cut inside and tested Postma with a stinging drive.
Eventually, Villa managed to get the winner their superior numbers deserved. Good shot by Whittingham from the edge of the area. There were people in Cows shirts jumping in the air, hugging each other, I kid you not! Game over, 2-1.
Job done, Mr Whitestone decided he’d better make the paperwork look a bit better. He booked the nonplussed Luke Moore, presumably for something he’d said or for having an offensive haircut.
Watching this ‘game’ gave me an idea for a mystery novel I may well write one day – It shall be about the Chairman of a big football club who doesn’t want to invest any money on players, so instead chooses to buy off no-hoper referees in reserve matches, to make the kids look better than they really are, in order to be able to claim that he doesn’t need to invest because the youth policy is so good. He goes along to the games just to make sure the ref does as he’s been told. I know it’s far-fetched, but it would make a good read, I reckon.
Blues: Vaesen, Parratt, Blake, Asa Hall, Martin Taylor, Painter, Howland, Clemence, Hamilton, Till, Birley.