A one hundred percent record for the season...
Convocation (4-5-1): Farrell; Galy, Randall, Harvey Ja, Harvey Jo; Gerard, Barlow B, Round J, Kent, Hartt; Round I; Sub: 'Louis'
Convocation (4-5-1): Farrell; Galy, Bastow, McNally, Trollsas; Kent, Hartt, Gerard, Barlow B, Round J; Round I
Bobby Mimms reports
Those who might consider that Convocation's season has been anything other than an unmitigated disaster will surely be as rare as hen's teeth, as, with the exception of one draw in a cup tie - against Tuesday's opponents, Liobians - which they then lost on penalties anyway, they've been beaten in every competitive game they've played since the start in September. Occasionally they have been unlucky and have deserved more than nul points, but on the whole they have been rank; the one thing they've excelled at is finding dumbass ways of losing - they've not been wanting in that department, no siree. Which is why, in this eminently winnable Alan Brown Trophy fixture, there was no need for referee Michael Howells to shove his Hitchcock-esque physique into the limelight and, with some shocking decisions (and non-decisions), more-or-less decide the match in favour of the home side.
There was barely a minute left in the game - Convocation having been much the better side, with only some very shonky finishing preventing them from being well out of sight of their opponents - when, under pressure, Liobians won a throw-in half-a-dozen yards from their own corner flag. The recipient then Hail Mary-ed the ball up the field to the only outfield player in the Convocation half (not the only Liobians outfield player, the only outfield player) and he ran on, presumably unaware of just how offside he'd been, and slotted past goalkeeper Alex Hendry, who, as you might expect, took the dubious concession with his usual good grace.
It had been so much different at the other end of the match. Within two minutes of the green-shirted Liobians getting things under way (attacking the Mersey Road allotments) Convocation had taken the lead. They'd played the first thirty seconds with only ten men, Kalim Gerard being in no particular hurry to leave the changing rooms and take up his position on the right flank, but once numerical parity was achieved the visitors burst into life: Isaac Round tried his luck from about twenty yards out, but when the opposition #1 scrambled the ball around his left-hand post it was the tardy Gerard who took the subsequent corner, and at the near post new wonderkid Ben Prince backed into the 'keeper and then side-footed the low delivery into the exposed net to score.
As usual for an evening game at Mersey Road the sun was shining across the pitch (from behind the Convocation bench), while in the almost cloudless sky a half-moon was out. The dark-blue-shirted Convo lined up in a 4-5-1 formation, with Round (I) as the lone forward, ahead of a five-man midfield comprising of a very youthful-looking Jerome Galy (he was being called 'Jerome Button', as in Benjamin Button) on the left wing, Gerard (eventually) on the right, and Tom Pitt, Liam Hartt, and debutant Joe Harvey in between. Ahead of Hendry, in the back line, Prince was partnered by another neophyte, James Harvey, in the centre of defence, Jack Roberts was on the left, with Jacob Trollsas on the right, and on that previously mentioned-in-brackets bench was Chris McNally and a smorgasbord of other newcomers who'd somehow been tricked into signing up for Hell's first circle.
Also as usual for Mersey Road, the baize left a lot to be desired - you wouldn't have been surprised to find a few potatoes around and about - but that didn't prevent Pitt from going on a mazy dribble in the middle of the pitch, after about ten minutes, although his shot from the edge of the centre circle was way over the target and, frankly, a complete waste of time and effort. Round (I) was sent clear through on goal, moments after that, but his lob of the all-in-black 'keeper was also too high to trouble the nets.
And then, with no real sign of it coming, the home side equalised. They had the ball in the Convo half and launched it high towards the penalty area, where Prince attempted to head clear - unfortunately he only succeeded in unintentionally flicking the thing on, perfectly for a loitering opponent, and his first-time shot from the eighteen-yard line beat the fluorescent-green topped Hendry and found the bottom corner of the target. A goal and an assist for the club treasurer in the opening quarter-of-an-hour, there.
The latest Round to play for Convocation, Joe, was introduced to proceedings moments after that in place of Gerard, but it was younger brother Isaac who next went close for the visitors, when he was sent clear through by a long ball from Roberts, only to wastefully blast his subsequent shot at the opposition 'keeper's shins. Minutes later the home side recreated Pitt's earlier folly from halfway, the ludicrous attempt having the same end-product, with the added 'bonus' of hitting the tree behind Hendry's goal.
With the midpoint of the half nearing the Convo #1 was called into action to prevent his side falling behind, and this time he wasn't to be beaten. Liobians shunted the ball forward almost to edge of the visitors' penalty area and, with Prince exhibiting a positional discipline that would politely be referred to as 'all over the place', the recipient turned Harvey (Ja) rather too easily and fired off a low shot that required a great diving save from Hendry to keep out.
Prince and Harvey (Ja) had done nothing out of the ordinary in allowing that Liobians fellow to get off his shot, as there'd been some slightly desperate defending on both sides of the halfway line, and the latter of those two centre halves had otherwise put in a good showing in his first quarter-of-a-game in Convo colours (and hadn't set up the opposition for a goal). Either side of them Roberts and Trollsas had been unremarkable, which was understandable as they hadn't really been tested, although the former of those had made a number of unsuccessful attempts at long passes for colleagues, which by the end of the game would look like a spot of range finding.
In midfield there was regular bouts of sundry faffing - again, from both sides - symptomatic of teams not entirely confident in what they're doing, but Hartt and Harvey (Jo) couldn't be accused of hiding and were certainly up for the (admittedly, not exactly over-the-top) physicality of the game. Galy was putting in one of his more enthusiastic performances, and Round (J) had looked half decent in his short time on the pitch, while Pitt had a much more sensible attempt on goal than earlier at one point, but his effort from out on the left flank was still over the crossbar.
As the first period entered its final ten minutes - with the temperature dropping noticeably, as it always does at Mersey Road when the sun dips behind the nearby woods - the salad-dodging Mr Howells decided to start flexing his 'bamboozling' muscle and, as a result, began having an unwanted effect on the game. A blatant pull on Round (J) on the edge of the centre circle was completely ignored by the nearby man in black, allowing the home side to play some passes around for a bit, until a deep cross into the Convo goalmouth should have resulted in the net bulging; amid scenes of scandalous defending, a man in green ran in onto the ball and yet from inside the six-yard box he side-footed over the bar, unmarked (the tree got it in the trunk again).
A worse officiating crime was to come. The half was in its knockings when the visitors won a free kick for a nothing foul out by one of Liobians' corner flags (Convo's left flank), which Pitt punted into the goalmouth where a good dozen players had bunched up. The ball was probably too high for Round (I) anyway, but he wouldn't have got it even if it hadn't been because a man in green came up behind him and gave him a push in the back that would have moved an illegally parked tanker, and the youngster was sent sprawling yards away from where he'd been standing - yet again, the referee, who it seemed couldn't have spotted an elephant on a bidet, was completely unconcerned, and when he blew for the break a minute-or-two later he rather graciously deigned to let Convocation know.
Considering how hard done by everyone in blue felt, the half-time powwow was admirably upbeat; everyone knew this game was winnable. With that in mind Captain Anthony Lewis made a quadruple substitution for the restart, bringing Gerard back on for Round (J) (the returnee went to left wing as Galy had decided to swap to the right), and replacing Hartt and Harvey (Jo) with two newcomers, 'Luke' and 'Taylor'; a third youngster whose name escaped your correspondent was sent on in place of Prince in defence, a barren hellscape from where no soul ever returns sane.
Quite how Convocation didn't add to their score over the following forty-five minutes is a mystery, because they had so many attempts they should really have been out of sight by the time they were hit with the sucker punch at the end. That said, it was Liobians who had the first chance of the second period, when their 'keeper took a long goal kick (which was some doing as he appeared to be constantly toeing the ball) and a colleague latched onto it, ran on, but blasted over the bar.
For the following twenty-odd minutes though, it was all Convocation, and Hendry in goal might as well have gone and had a pint in the APH for all he was needed in that time. Galy tried his luck from twenty-five yards out and - and you're never going to believe this - hit the tree behind the goal (that big old brute took a right battering on Tuesday evening), while not long after that Round (I) was played through and had a shot from the edge of the Liobians area, but their 'keeper made a decent save to his right, conceding a corner that came to nothing.
Just after the hour mark the Convo forward had another chance, having been played in by a lovely low curling pass from Trollsas on the halfway line, but once again clear through on goal, he fired wide of the target. The Swedish right back seemed to be on a mission to claim an assist, because not long after that he sent Pitt away down the right flank, and after jinking and wriggling around past opponents the midfielder curled an effort just wide of the far upright; although the #1 made an admirable dive to prevent the shot going in, had it bent a fraction more there was nothing he could have done about it and the ball would have been in the net.
There have been some tremendous examples of doublethink to rival George Orwell's 1984 in Convo games down the years - the best known probably being "Time, man on" - and there was another in this game midway through the second half, although the Big Brother who exclaimed (in real time), "Shit! [as in, the pass] - oh, well done" sadly went unrecorded. Moments after that ode to confusion Gerard had a shot from about twenty-five yards out that was straight at the Liobians #1, while the stopper was in the way again several minutes later when Round (I) got on the end of a Galy cross into the box, but headed the ball at the only man-shaped place on target where he wouldn't score.
Convocation's undoubted, if unfruitful, dominance was largely down to the graft being put in by the midfield. 'Luke' and 'Taylor' looked like decent prospects, while Pitt continued to be busy and involved and was definitely causing the Liobians back line some concern, even if it did appear at the same time that he couldn't hit a cow's arse with a trampoline.
Behind them Harvey (Ja) and the nameless debutant beside him looked as though they'd played together for years rather than twenty-odd minutes, while Roberts' laser-guided passes had started reaching their targets, and Trollsas persistence was admirable, as he had started looking rather leggy on the heavy ground. That said - and this is a sentence that you should never really apply to any Convocation defence, let alone one at the tail end of the season that the Firsts have had - there was little sign that wouldn't hold out without conceding again.
With a little under fifteen minutes remaining the Convo Enigma, McNally was introduced to proceedings in a straight swap with Galy, but the game hadn't even restarted before the Frenchman was back on for Trollsas, who, you suspected, had rather been hoping to be subbed himself in the first place. And the new right back [Galy - keep up at the back] was immediately in the thick of the action, intercepting an offside (but not given) Liobians move and then playing a long ball forward for Round (I) to go through one-on-one and... shoot wide.
Earlier in the half Liobians had interrupted Convo's run of a thousand chances - the writing was on the wall, really, wasn't it? - by creating one of their own, heading just over the bar from a cross into the box, but inside the final ten minutes they had a mad few seconds in front of their guests' goal that gave you the impression that the game was destined to end in a draw. They had a throw-in on their right that was hurled into the Convocation box and the recipient fired off a shot through a throng of bodies that hit the back post and rebounded out to the opposite side of the pitch; the subsequent ball back into the goalmouth then struck the face of the horizontal and fell kindly to another man in green whose falling diving header (like a less intense replay of the earlier push on Round (I)) was pathetic and deserved to be easily cleared (and mocked).
'Luke' belied his Convo naivety by winning the ball in the middle of the park and hoying a shot from thirty yards out that actually cleared the tree behind the goal - give that lad a coconut - while not long after that Pitt was upended not far from the Liobians 'D' and took the resultant free kick himself, but like every other blue-shirted effort in the second half that wasn't directly at the opposition #1, it was off-target, curling just wide.
The final few minutes constituted of defensive mayhem at both ends of the pitch, culminating in McNally at one point attempting to make a clearing header but only looking like a seal trying to catch the ball on its nose - throw that lad a fish. And then the referee played the trump card that he'd been holding back all game, and Liobians had their winner after all; showing an admirable lack of self-awareness, Mr Howells, clutching his pearls, then had the cheek to warn Lewis about the Convocation bench's understandable (and reasonably polite - all things being relative) protests.
The last act of the game saw Hartt returning for mere seconds after Pitt had been snapped by an over-zealous opponent right in front of the official - no prizes for guessing what the green-shirted player's punishment was...
The end of the season can't come soon enough for Convocation, but as bad as they've been for most of it, they don't deserve the gods conspiring against them as well, sending along some pot-bellied Nemesis to curse them with dreadful refereeing decisions. The only consolation the boys from Wyncote can take from this latest defeat is that they played alright, and it was undeserved - a bitter pill to swallow at the moment, admittedly.
These two sides meet again in Convo's final league game, in a fortnight - an unwanted hundred percent record of defeats is on the line; it goes without saying, they need to win.
Man Of The Match: Nobody played poorly, but the best two players on the pitch were probably Round (I) and Pitt. Neither could hit a barn door, but as the latter was quite industrious in midfield, as well as wasting chance after chance, he just edges it.
Convocation (4-5-1): Hendry; Roberts, Prince, Harvey Ja, Trollsas; Galy, Pitt, Hartt, Harvey Jo, Gerard; Round I; Subs: Round J, 'Luke', 'Taylor', Anonymous, McNally
Convocation (4-4-2): Welsh J; Roberts, 'Tommy', Williams Sh, Heuston S; Gerard, Kent, Heuston L, 'Mark'; Barlow B, Prince; Sub: Randall
Convocation (4-5-1): Hendry; Roberts, Prince, Cunningham, Galy; McNally, Poole G, Seri, Kent, Gerard; Round I; Sub: 'Max'
Convocation (from): Elwen, Roberts, Welsh J, Williams Sh, Hartt, Randall, Seri, Cunningham, Mustafai, Pitt, Round I; Subs: Galy, Kent, Williams Si, McNally, Prince, Farrell
A swing of eight goals towards Convo!
Convocation (from): Elwen, Roberts, Welsh J, Randall, Hartt, Gerard, Trollsas, Kent, Nawrocki, Seri, Pitt; Subs: Lewis, Mustafai, Williams Si, McNally, Farrell
Convocation (from): Elwen, Galy, Welsh A, Randall, Hartt, Gerard, Mustafai, Welsh J, Seri, Parsons, Round; Subs: Barker, Pitt, Russell, Hardy
Oh Dear! A cup defeat to a fourth tier side...
Convocation (from): Elwen, Roberts, Welsh J, Randall, Galy, Nawrocki, Mustafai, Seri, Todd, Hartt, Round I; Subs: Lewis, Welsh A, Williams Si
Convocation (from): Welsh J, Galy, Williams Sh, Randall, Hartt, Roberts, Gerard, Trollsas, Seri, Williams Si, Round I; Subs: Barloe B, Welsh A
Convocation (from): Elwen, Roberts, Welsh A, Randall, Trollsas, Gerard, Lewis, Welsh J, Nawrocki, Russell, Pitt; Subs: Galy, Hartt, Round I, Todd
Convocation (4-5-1): Elwen; Galy, Randall, Welsh A, Bower; Gerard, Welsh J, Lewis, Todd, McGrath; Pitt; Subs: Roberts, Kent, Mustafai, Round I, Hartt
Convocation (4-5-1): Welsh J; Roberts, Welsh A, Randall, Galy; Gerard, Nawrocki, Lewis, Todd, Russell; Round I; Subs: Barlow B, Seri
| _ | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |
| LIOBIANS | O | O | O | O | O | O | X | O | O | O | O |
| CONVO | MK O | IR O | SW O | HWB O | AW O | AL O | AR X | AB O | JG O | JR O | JE X |
Convocation (from): Elwen, Roberts, Welsh A, Weston-Beyer, Boothroyd, Galy, Kent, Lewis, Randall, Williams Si, Croxton; Sub: Round I
Convocation (4-4-2): Nawrocki; Roberts, Welsh A, Heuston, Trollsas; Galy, Randall, Kent, Russell; Lewis, Pitt; Subs: Welsh J, Mustafai, Boothroyd, Gerard
Convocation (from): Johnson, Roberts, Welsh A, Randall, Trollsas, Galy, Nawrocki, Lewis, Williams Si, Round I, Pitt; Subs: Bower, Mustafai
Bobby Mimms reports
Convocation's bad start to the season got worse on Saturday when they were beaten in, what looks on paper to be, their easiest fixture - at home to North Hill, a team who, if you were being charitable, you might describe as average. This was the battle of the Championship's bottom feeders, and Convo lost, although they arguably didn't deserve to as there was very little between the two, poor sides; a draw would probably have been the fairest result, but once the visitors scored with their only realistic shot on target the hosts seldom looked like replying.
That the goal came from a 'keeper error made matters even worse. Debutant Mikal Johnson had an otherwise impeccable game: he was frequently quick off his line or out of his area when need be and, most un-Convocation-#1-like, communicative with his rearguard. But when he was called upon late in the first half, after North Hill had attacked from the back down their left flank and played a number of 1-2s through opponents putting in challenges like someone dipping their toe into a hot bath, the glover tried to catch a rising shot at the subsequent one-on-one instead of just blocking or deflecting it, and the ball squirmed through his hands and into the net behind him. This elicited a huge cheer from a squad of unwinding American footballers on the nearby cricket pavilion, but several minutes later during the interval the man in the lime green top was contrition personified; goalies would rather be thumped than lose 1-0 to a concession that was their mistake.
The visitors had already had the ball in the Convo net, just after the midpoint of the half, when their #10 had ran through his dark-blue-shirted-opponents' back line onto a pass but been correctly blown for offside - despite the whistle he still fired off a shot into the goal past Johnson and was promptly booked by referee Hadi Aliyari. It was particularly stupid on the player's part as the official had warned everyone before kick-off that he was being assessed - a shadowy figure on the balcony of the pavilion, trying to ignore the increasingly rowdy American footballers, was adjudged by those on the Convo sideline to be the assessor - and would be doing everything by the book. The North Hill man's folly would come back to haunt him.
This was Convo's first home game of the season - Wyncote having been shut for most of the summer for some sort of refurb - and thirteen plucky souls had turned out for the privilege of playing. Ahead of Johnson, the back four comprised of Jack Roberts (returning after serving a one-match ban, having been sent off two weeks ago for deliberate hand ball on the goal line), Andy Welsh, Alex Randall and Jerome Galy, left to right respectively, while up front on his own was Isaac Round. In between, the five-man midfield had Simon Williams (l) and Mike Kent (r) on the flanks, with the other co-captain, Anthony Lewis, in the middle alongside Mike Nawrocki and Liam Hartt.
After last week's vidiprinter-bothering shellacking it was imperative that the home side got right into the game from the off, but while they didn't concede any early goals on Saturday (they were two down in almost as many minutes last week), Lady Luck still seemed to have it in for them as, inside the first sixty seconds, Hartt turned awkwardly, his ankle followed suit, and his afternoon was over; he was replaced by debutant Darren Mustafai.
It had been showery on and off all morning in south Liverpool, and within minutes of kick off it was spitting again, but there wasn't much zip to the pitch, and it even looked a little heavy, which was slightly surprising considering that nobody's supposed to have played on it for months. The quarter-hour mark can't have been too far off when Convo, playing towards the as-yet-unpopulated cricket pavilion, had the afternoon's first shot in anger - Williams fired tamely into the visitors' side netting, having been played in by Lewis, which may sound rather inconsequential, but the way the game would pan out it would certainly have made a highlights reel on Match of the Day.
By the next time anyone went close to troubling the 'keepers the midpoint of the half had come and gone, and the sun was bathing Wyncote in its autumnal glory (a steady wind blew across the pitch towards the Convo bench from the direction of Tesco throughout the game). Those American footballing yahoos - who'd been training on one of the complex's 4G pitches - had begun filling up the pavilion by then (including the balcony/top tier, which is more than the Anfield Road end can do at the moment), and they became slightly animated when Roberts played Lewis in, in the middle of the North Hill half, and after running on to the corner of the 'D' the captain curled an effort just over the bar - it was a well worked move (admittedly, on Saturday the bar had been set rather low).
Up front on his own Round was quiet and struggled to make an impact, while from somewhere behind him a message had been received from Nawrocki: 'My captors are treating me well' it read. Possibly in homage to Richy Schofield, Williams was all over the shop and rarely in the left-wing position that he was supposed to be playing, while inside him Mustafai looked an interesting player, not least because, with his socks rolled down almost around his ankles and sporting a small moustache, he looked, as Matt Round put it, like "any mid-1980s Coventry City player".
The midfield in general though, was predictable and unimaginative, and regularly at a loss what to do with the ball when they were in possession, but the team as a whole were getting no bounce of the thing, or rub of the green; they were definitely suffering the damned luck of a side on a rotten losing streak.
They won a free kick just outside the North Hill penalty area shortly after the half-hour mark, but Kent's effort was woeful and had people on the upper deck of a passing 86 bus ducking for cover - the freezing rain (yes, it had started again) added another level of ignominy to his subsequent trudge of shame. The visitors had their first attempt at goal moments after that, when one of their men swung a cross in from their right flank and a grey-shirted team mate somehow got in in between Welsh and Randall and headed just over the bar - he should never have been allowed to win the ball. And shortly after that, Lewis took a jaunt along the opposition eighteen-yard line in possession (from right to left as he would have seen it) before eventually, off-balance, firing a low shot back towards, and just wide of, the furthest upright.
Your correspondent lost count of the number of times North Hill pushed forward during the first period and the Convo back line called and more-or-less stopped for offside, but while the referee kept on agreeing with the lads in blue, like watching Casualty, you knew something bad was going to happen eventually... you just didn't know when. And then four minutes before the break, the visitors scored.
If only football would stop happening to Convocation things would surely be a lot easier, but in fairness to them they didn't collectively curl up into a ball and start sobbing as they might have been forgiven for doing after last week, and a minute-or-so after falling behind Lewis almost scored directly from a corner when he curled the thing onto the top of the visitors' net, missing the crossbar by inches (momentarily, it looked in, although the American footballers were unimpressed, so perhaps it wasn't that close). It was North Hill who had the last chance of the half though, when, seconds before the whistle to end it, one of their men powered a header goalward at another quadrant kick, but had his effort blocked in the six-yard box by a colleague, in a similar act of self-sabotage as shown by that bloke who decided to have a crafty fag in the car park at Luton Airport last week.
Convo were playing into the sun at the start of the second period, the schizophrenic weather showing no signs of taking its clozapine, but the only thing of interest in the first ten minutes was the realisation that the North Hill right winger - who seemed to be called 'Lewy' - had quite the resemblance to former Tory MP Jerry Hayes; yes, things were that exciting. But then the grey-shirted #10 - remember him from earlier? - launched into two-footed off-the-ground-challenge on Mustafai and the referee quite correctly gave him a second yellow; had he made contact it would probably have been a straight red, but as it was it was a Diogo Jota-esque double booking - other dopey professional footballers are available.
Almost immediately the hosts made a second substitution, hooking Round in favour of another club debutant, Jacob Trollsas (of Sweden); the departing youngster could consider himself a little unlucky as he just hadn't been able to get into the game and regularly had two or three defenders on him - it might have been worth playing the bedbug card; the incomer went to right back, Galy pushed up onto the wing, and Kent went up front. And the co-captain was slightly unfortunate not to equalise several minutes later when he got on the end of a lovely Roberts cross from out on the left but directed his header straight at the light-blue-shirted North Hill 'keeper; due to his diminutive stature you wouldn't exactly say he leapt like a salmon, more like a goldfish.
Generally though, Convo were making hard work of taking on their guests, and if you didn't know it you certainly wouldn't have guessed that they had a man advantage. Midway through the half - with the mental weather continuing to keep everyone guessing - North Hill tried their luck from mid-distance but the shot was over the home side's crossbar and accompanied by that call of the scallywag, "Gerrin!" They never went close to scoring again.
Since the substitution Convocation had been playing in what appeared to be more of a 4-3-3 formation, with Williams and Mustafai regularly pushing forward to accompany Kent, and Galy and the freed hostage Nawrocki sitting deeper, but still they frequently looked short of ideas. The most attack minded player in blue was actually Roberts, the left back, who had been setting up potential chances all game and by the end was a little unlucky not to have netted himself; elsewhere in the defence Welsh and Randall looked a decent centre-half pairing, and Trollsas gave a good account of himself at right back, although that praise has to be taken with a pinch of salt as he had very little to do.
With about twenty minutes remaining Kent had a low shot from about ten yards outside the North Hill penalty area that was heading towards one bottom corner of the target before being deflected by a defender towards the other one, but, alas, the deflection also took a lot of the pace off the effort and the visitors' #1 was able to adjust his moves and scramble back across his goal to prevent a concession. Not long after that the co-captain was at it again when the increasingly influential Roberts played him through, one-on-one with the 'keeper, but this time he leaned back as he struck the ball and sent it high over the crossbar. Non-scoring aside though, Convocation were finally starting to wrestle control of the game from their guests and look lively.
And Randall will be having nightmares for days to come after he missed a glorious chance to equalise, about ten minutes from the end, when he got on the end of a Kent corner but, completely unmarked, glanced his header wide of the back post - it was a poor miss. Moments after that Convo launched a throw-in, roughly level with the North Hill eighteen-yard line, into their opponents' penalty area, a player in grey rather kindly flicked the ball on, and when it was then headed out into the path of Roberts, steaming in, he walloped a shot from just outside the 'D' inches over the crossbar.
The visitors' defending had completely gone to pot, with them regularly slicing attempted clearances, and passing the ball to their hosts on a scarily frequent basis, and at times you could almost hear circus music as they 'buffooned' their way around their half of the pitch; it's fair to say that they were just about hanging on. They survived one last scare, in the final minute, when Convo won a free kick about thirty yards out from the North Hill goal and Roberts commandeered it - sadly, his shot clipped the grey-shirted wall and deflected tamely into the arms of the #1, and thirty seconds after that Mr Aliyari blew for full time.
This was hardly a white-knuckle ride, but when you're on the sort of dreadful run of form that the Firsts are at the moment you'd settle for results over entertainment any day of the week: sadly on Saturday they delivered neither. A draw would probably have been a fair result, although that's only because North Hill didn't deserve to win; Convo didn't either and currently seem to be suffering from a form of footballing brewer's droop - on the few occasions they can hit their stride they can't keep it up for long. Their league campaign is on life support and the clocks haven't even gone back yet; is the 'Ged Houllier and Roy Evans' experiment to blame? Only by starting to put points on the table will the murmurs abate.
Man Of The Match: Johnson was unlucky that his only mistake cost Convocation the game, while Kent was as lively a little ratter as has been seen for a long time. It's got to be Roberts though, as he was integral to pretty much everything that Convo did well on Saturday (which, admittedly, wasn't that much) and was one of the few players on the pitch who looked as if he was actually enjoying himself and trying properly.
Convocation (4-5-1): Johnson; Roberts, Welsh A, Randall, Galy; Williams Si, Nawrocki, Lewis, Hartt, Kent; Round I; Subs: Mustafai, Trollsas
Convocation (4-5-1): Taylor; Galy, Weston-Beyer, Heuston, Welsh A; Hardy, Nawrocki, Lewis, Kent, Gerard; Pitt; Subs: Barker, Hartt, Randall, Round I, Williams Si
Jack was sent off for deliberate hand ball on the goal line.
Convocation (4-5-1): Elwyn; Roberts, Weston-Beyer, Croxton, Buckley; Galy, Barker, Parsons, Kent, Williams Si; Pitt; Subs: Welsh A, Round I, Salgado
[AL] Went 1-0 up early on. Angus played it down the left to Jerome Galy who laid the ball back to [Ant Lewis] on the edge of the area to finish tidily into the bottom right hand corner.
they scored an equalizer 2 mins later. long punt upfield from the back. Angus and matt hesitated and left the ball for their striker who ended up 1v1 with the keeper to finish into the top corner.
We went ahead again on 35 mins. Kalim picked up the ball on the right wing, drew in three defenders and played a nice through ball to me making a late run through to finish 1v1 with the keeper.
They equalized just before halftime. Harvey gave away a silly free kick on the edge of the area. Their left back scored the free kick. Keeper could have done better. 2-2 at half time.
Convo dominated the 2nd half and missed several chances through ant Lewis, Kalim, Ben and Alfie. That came to haunt us as Matt failed to clear a long punt over the top to leave their forward 1 v 1 with the keeper and finish neatly.
More chances missed by convo and Harvey mishit a free kick which ended in their forward slotting home. Not picking her but keeper could have been quicker off his line having saves several 1v1s earlier in the day by rushing off his line quickly.
Convocation (from): Elwen, Boothroyd, Welsh A, Weston-Beyer, Galy, Hardy, Nawrocki, Gerard, Barker, Buckley, Lewis; Subs: Barlow B, Randall, HarttConvocation (from): Barlow B, Croxton, Cunningham, Heuston, Kent, Lewis, Parsons, Russell, Welsh A, Williams Sh, Williams Si; Subs: Roberts, Taylor
Bobby Mimms reports
An inauspicious start to the LOBAL campaign on Saturday saw Convocation ship seven against the, ahem, artists formally known as Kingsthorne, Sefton OA, but though the boys from Wyncote created little and defended quite appallingly at times, the result still felt a bit harsh. You'd be pushing it to suggest that the game was covered in the fingerprints of those old friends of Convo, the fine margins, but outside of the eighteen-yard boxes there wasn't much to separate the two teams; sadly, the home side rarely had to worry about their penalty area being invaded, while down the other end of the pitch, in their guests', they were quite ruthless.
For Convocation, matters probably weren't helped by the fact that it was a ridiculously hot afternoon (the sun was glaring across the pitch into the eyes of their bench) and they seemed to have little appetite for exerting themselves too much (to begin with, at least); new co-captains, Anthony Lewis and Mike Kent, appeared to have little idea how to motivate their charges. And while the game was being played in deepest, darkest Halewood and not the Sahara - although the hosts had jumped the Kingsthorne ship and taken refuge with the veterans' team whose name they have now adopted (and who, coincidentally, the Seconds were playing at the same time as this match), they had retained most of the players from their previous incarnation and were still based in God's own postcode - could Convo have been further hindered by their dark blue kit, while their hosts played in heat reflecting white (with black pin-stripes; they also had the Casa Roni restaurant sponsoring their backs)?
For the opening quarter of the game Convo were pretty much awful, and when the red-topped referee Matthew Clarke - who sounded like Lindsay Hoyle when he spoke - signalled for a drinks break just after the midpoint of the half, not only were they 3-0 down but they could easily have been further adrift and were lucky to have 'nil'. That said, it was they who had the first opportunity of the tie to score when a daydreaming Sefton defender passed the ball straight to Jay Russell (who couldn't even be described as 'lurking') inside his own penalty area, but as the lone Convocation forward attempted to take it around the opposition 'keeper rather that immediately shoot, he smothered the thing and the chance was gone.
Within a couple of minutes Convo were behind under mysterious conditions - not to be confused with your correspondent being late and missing the early goal, although apparently it came from a defence-splitting pass and a simple slot past the visitors' #1 Josh Elwen.
The 'keeper was making his full debut for Convocation on Saturday, but he wasn't the only one as beginning on the left flank were Kalim Gerard (wing) and Jack Roberts (full back), while on the bench young Isaac Round would be introduced at half time; if the name sounds familiar that's because it is: Isaac Hayes, of course, recorded Theme from Shaft, and was the voice of Chef from South Park back in the day. Elsewhere in the starting line-up Adam Hardy and Liam Hartt made up the right side of the team, Harvey Weston-Beyer and Andy Welsh were the centre backs, and the three-man central midfield comprised of Rhys Owen, Alfie Barker, and Lewis.
And they were all, to a man, exceptionally quiet; Sefton barked out instructions and warnings to each other, while those in blue seemed to be playing 'next one to speak gets the round in'. They were also second to almost every ball and the home side were being made to look good. In fairness, when they scored again, not long after the ten-minute mark, it was a very well executed goal: one of their players swung a high cross into the Convo penalty area from out on their left flank (and not far from the halfway line) that Welsh, his go-go gadget neck malfunctioning, couldn't quite reach to cut out, and the intended recipient brought the thing down effortlessly before thrashing a shot into the net past the motionless Elwen from about twelve yards out.
It's often said that 2-0 is a dangerous scoreline in football... but not in this case, as Convo were offering very little in the way of resistance against their not-actually-that-good hosts, who were nonetheless quite clearly running the show; the boys in blue were playing as though it were an extremely warm afternoon, which it was, but their opponents didn't seem to notice. Shortly after the quarter-hour mark a Sefton player tried his luck from about thirty yards out, his effort crashing against the horizontal of Elwen's goal from where it rebounded down and hit the #1 (who didn't seem to have a clue what was going on) and almost re-rebound into the net - he came to his senses and grabbed the ball just before it could cross the line.
But then in the twenty-fifth minute the home side did net a third when they attacked down their left - which was becoming something of a lucrative avenue for them - put a low cross into the middle, and on the edge of the penalty area a man in white-and-black smacked home past the yet-again-static Convo 'keeper, completely unmarked. The referee blew for the drinks break immediately.
And what an expletive-laden drinks break it was on the Convocation sideline. It was erstwhile captain Jonny Welsh - some sort of knock he was carrying preventing him from playing - who mainly laid into the underperforming blues, albeit it in a sort-of-paternal (and yet still sweary) 'I'm not angry, just disappointed' way. His gist was pretty much that Sefton were being allowed to play because their guests weren't trying particularly hard, and nobody argued.
Gerard and Hardy swapped wings for the restart - which, in case you've forgotten, commenced with yet another Convocation kick off - but if the change had any effect on proceedings it was not immediately apparent. The home side continued to use those flanks much more profitably than their opponents, although there was a perceptible increased vibrancy in the team in blue, in general, their 'quarter time' rocket up the arse appearing to have had some effect. It still took a fine block and follow up save by Elwen to prevent Sefton from scoring again and disappearing over the hill on roughly the half-hour mark, and on that occasion his colleagues had left marking to the gods while they enjoyed an afternoon stroll to get back into position; still too many white-shirted moves were accompanied by despairing howls from the Convo bench of, "Too easy."
But the new approach of 'trying hard(er)' was noticeable, if only because of the complete difference in Convo's performance before and after the drinks break. A lot of that surely had to do with the midfield triangle finally coming alive, with Barker in particular looking more like the player of last season, while Owen and Lewis were also starting to complete moves and passes that had gone awry earlier in the half.
The deleterious effects of shipping three in the first quarter of the game didn't appear to have any long-lasting effects on the back line - PTSE on Sunday, though? - and the period between the drinks break and the interval was definitely their most composed. Weston-Beyer and Welsh (A) had stopped flapping like the swing doors on a Wild West saloon and were actually defending almost as if they are competent defenders; Roberts and Hartt were relatively untroubled out on the wide berths of the rearguard, although in the little he had to do the former of those looked like a decent catch for the club.
There were growing grumbles on the visitors' bench that Mr Clarke was penalising their players for things that the opposition boys were getting away with - in general, Sefton seemed to be getting all the lucky breaks, while Convo weren't getting any - but there was little the official could do other than issue a yellow card when Gerard made a frustrated lunge on an opponent in the middle of the pitch with about five minutes of the half remaining. Moments after that the home side were screaming for the midfielder's dismissal when he went in for a challenge and accidentally stood on his adversary's ankle, but only after he'd been pushed in the back by a second man in white; the poor bloke who'd been trod on clearly had a very low pain threshold though, as he started screeching as though he were being disembowelled. Nurse, the screens!
To no one's surprise, when the referee calmed things down and didn't issue the red card that the home side demanded the guy at death's door made a recovery worthy of Lazarus, but Gerard was soon off anyway, some sort of twinge doing for him seconds before the interval. Shortly before that though, Sefton had had another chance to net a fourth when one of their men had drilled a low ball through the Convo penalty area and a colleague running in at the back post brought out an excellent almost-point-blank save from Elwen.
The half-time team talk was conspicuously less foul-mouthed than the earlier drinks break, almost certainly because of Convo's (relatively) improved performance, although Welsh (J) still mentioned that the home side were "getting hard-ons from all [their] moaning." The visitors made a couple of changes for the restart on top of the one they'd been forced into making before the break, when Si Williams had swapped with Gerard: Round replaced Hardy (he went up front and Russell dropped to the left wing), while Adam Taylor went on in defence as Roberts (a little unluckily) was hooked (Welsh (A) moved to left back).
It goes without saying that the next goal was vital (as, indeed, it had been since the middle of the first half), but for the first ten minutes of the second period neither side seemed particularly interested in trying to score it. In that time Barker was the only player to get anywhere near the goals, but his rasping effort from about twenty-five yards out was straight at the diminutive Sefton 'keeper; the home side's only perceivable tactic seemed to be to try and rough up Round, but the youngster was having none of it and gave as good as he got.
But then, as Convo had begun looking the more dominant team for the first time in the game, they were hit by a sucker punch and Sefton put it to bed. They broke down their left and, with Hartt doing a good impression of the (walking) invisible man, were able to put a cross across the box, and at the far post a guy in white cleverly flicked the ball back over the nearing Welsh (A) and then slotted past the helpless Elwen.
To their credit Convo didn't give up - they were playing better now they were four down than they had at 0-0 - and Round even had a chance to pull a goal back when he was played in by Russell, but like a typewriter with no shift key (one for the kids, there) he couldn't capitalise and his low shot was tame and straight at the opposition #1. It was during the ten minutes after Sefton's fourth that you saw just how ordinary they were (and thus realised just how poor Convo must have been in the opening quarter), and it did make you wonder what might have been if the boys from Wyncote had actually created a few more chances (and marked at the back); it was also during that spell that both sides began campaigns of trying to out-foul-throw each other - rather in the spirit of schadenfreude, the hosts kept doing so every time one of their more moronic players sneered at someone in blue for doing the same.
Convo's smidgen of a recovery wasn't to last though, and at about the same time that that beastly (non-playing) Welsh opened his can of Brewdog on the sideline and more-or-less began gargling with it in front of your parched (and more pertinently, 'sober') correspondent, Sefton nabbed a fifth. And from the visitors' point of view it was probably the most disappointing concession of the afternoon: their hosts won a corner, but despite the penalty area having a whiff of the mosh pit about it when the ball was whipped in, one player in white was able to power a header into the net from about ten yards out with nobody anywhere near him.
Mike Nawrocki was introduced to proceedings on the hour mark with Barker making way for him, but adding fifteen years to the collective age of the central midfield was never likely to be conducive to a storming Convo comeback. Once again it was the hosts who created the next chance to score, although with hindsight the player in question might wish that he hadn't bothered, as when he was slipped clear through on goal and Elwen came flying off his line the Sefton man's attempted lob went absolutely miles over the bar, the perimeter fence, and also some passing cumulonimbus. Another drinks break followed that, during which Kent put himself on in place of Weston-Beyer; Welsh (A) moved back inside into the middle of the defence and the co-Captain went to left back.
He never really got into the game in the twenty-odd minutes he was on the pitch (so he was right up there with some of Convo's best players on the day), but inside him the combination of Welsh and Taylor did look semi-competent and, well, defensive; out on the right Hartt even found time to overlap with Williams occasionally, both flipping their designated roles intelligently. In midfield, the new triangle - if it was meant to be that - of Nawrocki, Owen and Lewis, were holding their own against their Sefton counterparts, although it's quite possible that those in the white shirts had begun to take their collective foot off the gas.
That said, with about twenty minutes to go the home side made it six when they knocked forward a hopeful punt from midfield and one of their ilk managed to outsmart the Convo offside trap, run on, and slot past Elwen as he advanced from his line.
But then - drumroll, please - the blues only went and pulled one back. They'd been puttering around in their hosts' half of the pitch for a minute-or-so without ever looking like getting anywhere until the ball was given to Owen out on the right flank, and from 35 yards out - maybe 34.5 - he let fly with an absolute howitzer of a shot that smashed against the front of the Sefton crossbar and rebounded back out to Round, who'd been the only person savvy enough to follow the initial attempt in; from near the penalty spot he gave the opposition 'keeper the eyes and side-footed home as his adversary dived out of the way.
As if spurred into (very belated) action by the goal the visitors made a couple of immediate substitutions and morphed into a 4-4-2 formation: Hardy returned in place of Lewis, and a rejuvenated Gerard replaced Russell, while Williams moved forward to join Round up front. The tactical jiggery-pokery was nearly torpedoed moments later though, when a deep white-shirted player attempted to send a colleague in the centre circle clear through, only for Welsh (A) to drag said colleague back with a foul so unsubtle you had to admire it; you also had to question the necessity of it from Convo's point of view, what with them being 6-1 down inside the final ten minutes, but the club secretary's bacon was saved by the presence of Taylor alongside him (and being so far out) meaning that you couldn't exactly call it a 'denial of a goal scoring opportunity' - he was given a yellow card instead of the red that the home side, once again, demanded.
The visitors' change to two banks of four didn't really have much of an effect on the game and Sefton continued to look the more likely to score again. And, with a little over five minutes remaining, they did. Elwen was forced to make another good block when one of the players in white slipped into the Convo penalty area past Hartt, but then when they advanced down their right and breezed past Kent the player in possession was all too able to play a low cross through the defenderless box and a colleague running in at the back post slotted with all too familiar ease to make it 7-1.
Williams went close to netting a second consolation for Convocation when he blasted a shot just wide from around about the edge of the opposition 'D', but with the game entering its knockings it was the hosts who had two final chances to score again. For several minutes some sort of alarm had been going off in the sports centre, prompting calls from the away side's bench for the match to be abandoned, but those in white paid little attention to the gallows humour and, with their opponents walking around waiting for the final whistle, one of their men curled an effort over the Convo bar after he and some colleagues had teasingly passed the ball around the penalty area for a brief spell.
The very last kick of the game came from a Sefton player who had been sent through from midfield, but his shot from just inside the eighteen-yard box was pushed onto the crossbar and over by Elwen, although the corner that should have resulted was never taken as the referee called it a day before the ball had even landed.
So what can you say about this first Convo outing of the league season? Well, their kick offs were superb...
It was a result that was both deserved and undeserved at the same time: deserved, because any side who doesn't turn up until it's nearly the interval can have no complaints at finding themselves needing to lasso their opponents back in order to stay in the competition, but undeserved because those opponents were not very good and the final scoreline flatters their players, if not their much more competent team performance.
The annoying thing from Convo's point of view was that they didn't play badly - 'badly' you can accept because, no matter how great some amateur footballers think they are, they're still doing it for fun - they just didn't play at all for great chunks of the tie. And that's worrying particularly for the first game of the season - let's hope it's now out of the collective system.
(And to address that rhetorical question from the start of this report; that ghost of a chance of some justification for this pathetic display: could Convo have been hindered by their dark blue kit, while their hosts played in heat reflecting white? No! Of course not.)
Man Of The Match: Elwyn deserves a mention because he made several good saves and blocks to keep the final score close to respectable (although at other times he looked as if he was only playing because he'd woken up in the goal seconds before kick off and didn't have a clue what was going on around him), while Roberts didn't do an awful lot wrong during his time on the pitch and was definitely near the bottom of the list of people who deserved to be substituted at half time. Round gets the award though, because he never stopped (and did actually start when asked to, unlike a lot of his colleagues) and took his goal well. Low bar this week, though.
Convocation (4-5-1): Elwen; Roberts, Weston-Beyer, Welsh A, Hartt; Gerard, Barker, Owen, Lewis, Hardy; Russell; Subs: Williams Si, Taylor, Round I, Nawrocki, Kent
Convocation (4-3-3): Elwen; Kent, Croxton, Welsh A, Opposition Guest; Salgado, 'Dean', Lewis; Williams Si, Round M, Round I; Sub: Opposition Guest
Convocation (4-4-2): Elwen; Boothroyd, Meadowcroft, Weston-Beyer, Sawle; Russell, Barker, Owen, Williams Si; Lewis, Salgado; Subs: Round M, Nawrocki, Taylor, Round I, Kent (unused)
Convocation (4-4-2): Farrell; Kent, Heuston, Weston-Beyer, Hartt; Salgado, Sawle, Owen, Williams Si; Round M, McNally; Subs: Roberts, Round I
Convocation (4-4-2): Welsh J; Welsh A, Owen, Williams Sh, Hartt; Williams Si, Parsons, Shore, 'Ethan'; Round M, McNally; Subs: Round I, Kent, Cunningham
Convocation (4-3-3): Welsh J; Galy, Weston-Beyer, Williams Sh, Bower; Owen, Welsh A, Lewis; Williams Si, Russell, Barlow B; Subs: Kent, Taylor, Hartt, Hughes
