20. WHEN SATURDAY’S GONE By Jonaldo

The COAT

Just as there are the Peles, Maradonas and Messis of this world we can all marvel at it stands to reason that there are players who occupy the other end of the spectrum. In our group we claim one of the outstanding examples of this breed.

Bob is a big, likeable lad now in his mid-70s, although he doesn’t look it, with an eye for the ladies. He has been playing our senior football for the best part of ten years and it is fair to say that his abilities have not depreciated in that period.

If one can recall when toddlers are first given a ball to kick about there is a lot of toe-plonking on the occasions connection is made and it’s totally random where the ball goes. Kicking the ball with greater control and a semblance of accuracy is acquired with practice. Well, despite 70 years of such training Bob has yet to progress from the inaccurate toe-plonks when he manages to make connection at all.

He loves the camaraderie and that’s why he plays and we admire his enthusiasm to be involved. The overwhelming majority of people who were that bad at a sport would consequently avoid it like the plague. For as Losing Derek once pithily observed:

‘I’ve played football all over the place for decades and he is definitely the worst footballer I have seen in my life.’ The Crappiest Of All Time.

Before the pandemic, John South was at another football group on a Tuesday when Bob rucked up. Knowing that Southey played with him on Fridays some players asked him what Bob’s best position was.

‘On the other side,’ Southey responded.

Pretty well every player has a favourite Bob anecdote. Mine is when he was on my side when we were hanging on to a 4-3 lead and Gordon was in goal pulling off blinding saves to keep our opponents at bay. We looked like we were going to do it despite having been really under the cosh until with about ninety seconds remaining there was another goalmouth melee. During which the ball came to Bob facing goal on the edge of the six yard box. He toe-plonked it past Gordon for an own goal equaliser. Nobody cursed him, we collectively shrugged our shoulders and thought ‘Well, that’s Bob for you,’ as we trudged forlornly to the centre circle.

Then, at the post-match drink after the following week’s match the subject of doing tricks with the ball during games arose. Bob then chipped in with:

‘It’s like last week, when I scored the own goal. I was trying to back heel it to safety.’ This from a player who has yet to master kicking the ball forward!

We all love Bob and when we had to temporarily move to Winterbourne during the pandemic he turned out every week and helped provide equipment. And we were all saddened when he experienced major health issues recently in the form of a stroke. His wife messaged us to say that the specialist he had seen said that he most likely wouldn’t be able to drive a car again, but that he would at some time in the future be able to play football. This was met with consternation in our group as it was observed that he couldn’t play before!

Despite all that we miss Bob. He epitomises what our football is all about and though his skills are very limited his spirit and enthusiasm knows no bounds.