I promise that this is not an obsession or an addiction, but I still can’t get the World Cup commentaries out of my head. Time will sort it out, I’m sure; but for now, just imagine how Barry and Ron would cope if presented with a team of greengrocers.
* * * * *
Hello everyone, and welcome to the big game. We’ll see if the Greengrocers can produce something fresh for us tonight. They’re playing in their familiar orange shirts, of course. Mark Kit-Gardner, the manager, knows that many of his squad are now in their salad days. Here with me in the commentary box to make the pithy comments as ever is Ron, a man who knows his onions.”
“It’s a plum job, Barry.”
“Thoughts before the start, Ron?”
“Well, Barry, I’m expecting them to set out their stall at the beginning, the way they always do. Maris and Piper will pair up as usual, chipping away at the opposition defence. It should be a game to get pulses racing.”
“Thanks Ron. Like many of the press, I see this game as a potential banana skin. Looking at the team sheet, I see that he’s not playing Black tonight, Ron.”
“That’s right, Barry. It looks like Black isn’t in his currant plans.”
“The air’s a little chilli up here in our commentary position, but we’re all good to go. It will make a change for some of the players, who are more used to boiling conditions. The referee blows his whistle to start the game, and the Greengrocers are immediately having to defend. Early thoughts, Ron?”
“The defence is already looking leeky. They’ll have to dig in.”
“Oh, and there’s a trip , and the ref gives a penalty. The players argue. This could mushroom into a nasty incident. The argument is over, and Root the goalie is in position, feet planted firmly, cool as a cucumber. Is this a foregone conclusion, Ron?”
“It’ll have to be a good shot to beat Root, Barry.”
“Sage words there from Ron. The crowd go silent. Root starts to wilt. The referee pulls him up for unsporting behaviour. Root insists he needs water. He takes a drink and gets back in position. The shot comes in, Root can’t move, and it’s a goal.”
“Maris kicks off to restart the game quickly, passing to Piper. Maris and Piper will need eyes everywhere against this defence. Piper passes out to Celery on the wing, who is fouled by a terrible tackle. Dirty play, Ron?”
“Up against this defence, Barry, Celery is going to get stick all night.”
“Indeed, Ron. The free kick is played short to the Spanish player, Satsuma, who peels away easily from his marker. The team are growing more confident now. Satsuma plants a ball forwards towards Romaine. Romaine, all heart as ever, lobs a little gem of a pass to Arty. The ball bounces awkwardly, Arty chokes on his shot, and the ball is cleared. Kit-Gardner is giving some of his players a roasting. The attacking pair are in conference.”
“That’s another foul, and the Greengrocer’s have a free kick. Let’s see if it bears any fruit. It’s played to Farmer, who ploughs his way through midfield. He passes to Smith, who’s waving to his granny in the crowd, sat next to a lady in pink. What do you make of it, Ron?”
“Against a team like this, it’s no use pumpkin long balls upfield. The performance so far has broadly been disappointing. I mean, look at Harry Cobean on the ball now, with no one to pass to. He needs a runner up front.”
“But they’re back on the attack now, Ron. Broccoli spears the opposition defence with a lovely pass. Maris shoots, and then so does Piper. Now the ball is loose in the air, and there’s a great leap from Brussels, who seemed to sprout wings. They’re peppering the goal with shots. It rolls out to Spice, keen as mustard, who nutmegs a defender. Both teams have packed into the penalty area. It’s a bit of a squash in there. It comes to Korn, who collects it sweetly, then goes on a maizey little run. It leads to nothing, but he gets a few pats on the back anyway from his team-mates.”
“He’s used to being buttered up, Barry.”
“At the other end, in central defence, Brassica bolts up to head clear. His head collides with an attacker. Brassica may well get a cauliflower ear after that clash. In fact, I’m not sure he can carry on. If he does, he’ll be a virtual cabbage for the rest of the game. Now Citrus swings a foot at the ball, but misses. He must feel like a right lemon. The opposition defence has been squeezing him out of position all night, Ron.”
“For me, Barry, Citrus needs more zest in his play.”
“It’s time to pick your man of the match, Ron.”
“I’m rooting for the Swede, Barry.”
“Really, Ron? Well viewers, that’s a turnip for the books. I thought he was playing a bit gingerly. Anyway, thanks for being with us. That’s shallot for tonight.”