Mill Hill NW7ers 6 v 2 Muswell Hill

Match Report

It was a battle fought in the cool chill of an Edgware evening, but won in the blistering heat of the barren Veldt, the bleak contours of the Spion Kop and nourished by the flame of the Braai. If there is a higher quality of international football than the local intra-London over 30’s shul friendlies, then this reporter, a lifelong Leeds fan, has never seen it.

The ‘Battle of the Hills’, even its name evokes memories of glorious days past. Muswell Hill, the Grand Old Man of London against its young upstart suburban cousin. Bijou coffee shops and specialist niche book stores against 3 betting shops and Iceland. Muswell Hill may not have a tube station, but do they have a fine football team? No, not so much.

In a game which had almost everything, including the need to use 5 different match balls and an unannounced rewriting of the offside rule (the new rules being essentially, ‘Stefan is always offside, even if you pass back to him’), this was a match which was never going to disappoint. Mill Hill found themselves in the unprecedented position of being the fitter, more able team and, in truth, the scoreline (I think it was 6-2) flattered Muswell Hill even more than the ‘Welcome to Muswell Hill’ website (muswellhillonline.co.uk).

The match was won in midfield. The South African Triumvirate of Jarrod, Anthony/Shnayer and Shnayer/Anthony (our manager was adopting the Ron Atkinson approach to man-management) won every 50-50 ball and can’t have failed to attract the attention of the Barcelona scouts who were on the adjacent pitch disguised in beards and hats. Both Jarrod and Anthony/Shayner scored good goals, although Anthony/Shayner’s imitation of John Barnes vs Brazil circa 1984 left the Muswellians head in hands and sick as the proverbial.

The wing play was sublime and only rarely ridiculous. Simon, Paul and Charles shared the duties (with Joel popping out there to stretch his legs for a while) running their opponents into the ground. Paul (I think) scored, as did Simon, the latter followed by a masterclass of understated satisfaction.

Spare a thought for the Muswell Hill defenders, whose restless sweat laden night’s sleep will have been haunted by the figures of Stefan and Gill, hounding their every move. Gill, as happy up front as he is marshalling the back four, added height and composure to both ends of the team. Stefan Redux, hat-trick hero, denied a hatful of others only by the cruel vagaries of fate, dressed all in black.

A back 5, rarely troubled, chiselled the Jerusalem stone and weathered by years of hard graft. Andy’s long awaited return to the goal mouth he knows as home, will consider himself unlucky not to have kept a clean sheet. A magnificent improvised header kept out one of the few breaks and he was also unlucky that his defensive unit misunderstood his shout of “Clear It” to mean “Relax, I’ve got this one covered”.

The Centre-Backs, Joel and David Peters (with Gill in cameo), marshalled the team imperiously the back, although David ‘that’s what the studs are for’ Peters might feel grateful for a lack of any instant replays on some of those tackles. Both also made telling contributions up front. Joel bagged an assist and Paul a disallowed headed goal.

Danny at left back was a constant source of attacking threat and his corners, which were of the highest quality, eventually earned their deserved result with a teasing beauty of a back post cross finished off by Stefan (I think). David P on the right showed all the doubters why he does more children’s services than football matches, and who could forget his distracting of Muswell Hill’s left winger by getting him to sing Ting-a-ling-a Torah while Mill Hill broke for an early goal.

In all, a great triumph. When they come to speak of legends, they will speak of these times. And, to paraphrase Captain for the night and Man of the Match Jarrod in his rousing half-time talk:

Tho much is taken, much abides; and tho
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

David Pliener