Is there any sense in making New Year’s resolutions? I have already broken two of mine, namely ‘stop stealing content from the Daily Sport’ and ‘speelcheek evry post’, and it’s only a matter of time before the others are also consigned to the same proverbial trash heap alongside two bin liners of discarded Christmas wrapping paper. I very much doubt I will ‘live to be 100 years old’ or ‘teach the dog how to use Facebook and find a way to profit from it’ this year.
The only reasonable solution, I resolve, is to make resolutions you *know* you’re going to break, then gloat about how quickly you broke them. Ever wonder why that bloke simultaneously smoked 10 cigars and downed five pints at 0.01am on 1 January? Yeah, he had the right idea. Screw NYRs! No, not New York Railway Supplies…
Anyway, I doubt Gary Caldwell is the type to make resolutions. After all, why alter your side based on the day of the month? Numerology might be fine for Derren Brown or Uwe ‘What Can I Change Today?’ Rosler, but this ain’t television nor the television league – this is the Hindley and District Pubs and Clubs League.
…Sorry, I pilfered that speech from my Sunday League coach. Ignore it and read on.
New Year’s distribution
While Captain Cald eschewed Hogmanay tradition, Scunthorpe were eager to indulge in a spot of New Year’s distribution – at least for their goal. Following some neat interplay, Scott Laird unleashed a fiery ‘cross-shot’ that Luke Williams could calmly tuck away for his, and the Iron’s, first goal of the calendar year. (That one was just for the stat-nuts such as I that like to note those things in their exercise books and internet weblogs.)
Undeterred, the visitors began planning New Year’s retribution. Their response did not involve any unnecessary formation alteration for the sake of a little number 1 on the scoreboard, as such changes would only lead to New Year’s confusion. And that typically stubborn Caldwell resolve was thoroughly justified, because his side’s equaliser was close at hand.
I recall a certain commentator on a certain local radio station, who I shall not name here in the interests of impartiality (though I would Lovett if he returned). Said commentator had a habit of announcing “oooh, we’ve just scored” after at least six seconds of silence, which made every goal sound as though it came from nowhere. Equally amusing and thrilling.
Well, Michael Jacobs’ strike was a true ‘Lovett’ if ever I saw/heard one. Everyone present fully expected him to safely lay the ball off to one of his various advancing team mates. Hence, Luke Daniels raised a quizzical eyebrow when he heard his net rippling.
“Oh cripes, he must’ve controlled the ball and shot first time! Oh fiddlesticks, it must be a goal!”
And Daniels’ ears did not deceive him.
New Year’s substitutions
As the second half commenced, Yanic Wildschut and Will Grigg fashioned one threatening opening each. But as their New Year’s execution failed them, the game reached its final 20 minutes with a full crate of potentially spectacular fireworks yet to be lit. Hey, as every good festival organiser knows, you save the loudest and most colourful ones for the climax!
Enter Jordy Hiwula, the ‘forgotten hero’ of the Paint Pot saga that everyone suddenly remembers now Alex Revell has gone back home. Enter Jordy and his golden bonce, which manufactured a keeper beating header to put Latics ahead… except the fresh pins of substitute Kyle Wootton were waiting on the goal line to bundle the ball away. Rats!
With time now shorter than those shortbreads you made short work of by noon on 25 December, there was barely enough legroom for a New Year’s convolution. But surely there must be a New Year’s resolution to this winter’s tale? There is always a happy ending in these stories!
No. Sport isn’t like Shrek, you know.
Though they launched attempts on Jussi’s goal, neither Stephen Dawson or Paddy Madden could change their fate on the videprinter, that sacrosanct tablet of seasonal virtues. The hollowed machine that prints ‘thou shalt brag endlessly about thine win, for thou willst have no chance once thou art back to work on Monday’ on a piece of grubby tissue thin paper.
But that’s OK. I’d hate for Grandstand to become like a Disney movie, with Des Lynam the Fairy Godmother and Gary Lineker one of the ugly sist- er, Cinderella. Actually, I lie – that alone would be worth the black and white TV license fee!
JWAW Man of the Match: Jussi Jääskeläinen – he was all white… hyuk!