1st XI v King’s Chester, ISFA Cup Round One
On: Wednesday 27 September
Venue: Big Ground
Score: Won 4 - 0
Yeah boy! You little smashers. A week is a long time in Charterhouse football. After introspection, self-doubt, dollops of negativity and tortuous self-analysis, not to mention behind-closed-doors meetings, Charterhouse took a deep breath and strode into the light, embracing adversity like a long lost uncle, tickling pressure like a newly purchased pup and brushing off nerves as if they were toast crumbs on a freshly pressed suit. Truly this was the reckoning. And Charterhouse reckoned. It was the performance of performances, a display to top all displays and the showpiece of many a show.
Right from the start the players rolled up their sleeves and started looking around for a bit to champ. Before long it was 1 - 0. Jay Porter, remarkably spritely after attending three consecutive days at School, sprinted away from the King’s Chester defence, slotting home a right-footed shot into the far side netting of the goal. Relief. Oh relief. Blessed and glorious and flooding through a side in need of a fillip. And confidence began to flow through the veins and Charterhouse began to turn the screw. Soon it was 2 - 0 when the prolific Gilbey strode into the box like some sort of Chicago gangster in a speakeasy and just thumped home a header from a Sam Browne corner. Have at that I say! Half time and positivity positively radiated. How thrilling to see Alex Ford in full flight, one of the most gifted players in recent times really strutting his stuff. How resplendent to see the back four of Gilbey, Garrard, Bruce and Richardson putting up a wall of resistance that not even the White Walkers could have breached. How charmed we were to watch Raber, Dmitry and Browne sewing up midfield and prodding away, like an old lady buying boiled sweets. And then Shedden and Porter provoking handfuls and procuring fistfuls. And that was before Holmes, Briggs and Dovell came on, metaphorically picking up three batons and carrying torches above their heads, as if in search of the Minotaur at the centre of some god forsaken maze.
But the best was yet to come. It was time for Dmitry Tertychnyy, whose name has more ‘y’s than the recent referendum asking the Falkland Islanders if they wanted to remain part of the United Kingdom, to take the centre of the stage. Dmitry, who’d played with ridiculous nonchalance up to that point, fastened the top button of his velvet smoking jacket, and, whilst quoting Aeschylus to all and sundry ‘ah, lives of men! When prosperous they glitter ...’ he simply smashed a screamer into the top corner from all of thirty yards. Boom!! Pick that one out. It was like Hot Shot Hamish from Roy of the Rovers days. What delirium. Soon Porter was applying the cherry to the cake, bursting through the centre and finishing with casual glee. 4 - 0.
Fantastic result; great performance. Happy fans; happy players. The live draw takes place on Thursday evening, probably on Sky Sports News, at which point various reporters will doubtless be dispatched outside the gates of Charterhouse to report in darkness from outside the compound with no information whatsoever to inform their stories. As for us, we’ll prepare for Bradfield. We play more games than most Championship sides; it’s relentless. And while the Charterhouse community has their feet up watching Homes Under the Hammer, or being emotionally drained by DIY SOS, we’ll be in a minibus on the way to Berkshire, thinking about service station stops and worrying about whether we’ve remembered to register our driving credentials with the health and safety officer for the fourth time this calendar year. When it’s in your soul, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Plus there’s always iPlayer.
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