Action from the Vets game against Canterbury on 15th
February 2004.
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Martin Futter
Futz.
Goalkeeper.
Taught me at school so getting on a bit.
Parsimonious ‘keeper that has been known to play out-field. Was
persuaded to revert to goalie when team-mates saw his legs. |
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Paul Brivio
Briv.
Defender.
Classified under official secrets act. Agent Briv is a master of
disguise. His real life persona as secret double agent for CI5
(left) is instantly transformed into Norman Wisdom on the pitch (see
photo 2 above). |
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Clive Whittington
Dick.
Defender.
Ice.
The cool man of defence. Clive has X-ray vision and can always be
relied upon to stop the ball even when his view is obstructed by his
pot belly. |
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Kevin Goulden
Kung Fu.
Defender (Black Belt, 3rd Dan).
Young, free and single.
The most effective defender in hockey history. Attackers are too
scared to beat him due to his uncanny resemblance to David Carradine. |
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Clive Martin
Cave Man.
Midfield.
Pre-historic .
Clive the cave-dweller has been a feature of OW sides since time
immemorial and has consistently performed with club in hand sporting
his trademark shaggy grey beard. |
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Ian Harper
Harps, Psycho.
Midfield.
Mid-life crisis.
Midfield terrier that takes no prisoners. Scares his own team mates
as much as the opposition and gives small children nightmares. |
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Ian Pentecost
Ed, God, Peter Pan.
Midfield.
Doesn't.
Tireless runner with suspect right knee. A marvel of medical science
, Ed can be struck anywhere on the body but ensuing pain only
manifests itself in his right knee. |
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Martin Pinder
Pindu.
Midfield.
Slow motion.
This master of the stick and ball is poetry in motion (slow motion).
Rumoured to apply glue to his stick before each game and vaseline to
his nipples after. |
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Dave Routledge
Davey Boy.
Defender, Midfield, Forward.
Belies it.
A
one man team with plenty of big issues. Dave has been known to
tackle his own players and proceed to dribble around all 21 others
(plus umpires) before finding the goal. |
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Peter Heyes
Kamikaze Pete, Man’s best friend.
Forward.
Puppy.
Pete’s dedication and loyalty ensures he will eagerly fetch anything
thrown his way (stick or ball) with wagging tail. A Pete is for life
and not just for Christmas. |
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John Crittenden
Crit, JC.
Forward.
”I’m nearly 40 you know!”
Goal–a-game Crit honed his predatory skills hunting Moose in the
night spots of Gillingham in his younger years (very successfully it
must be said). |
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Peter Wright
Wrighty.
Forward.
‘B’ reg.
Prolific goal moocher is to goalkeepers' pads what dogs are to lamp
posts. Evades the scrap-heap by continually passing his MOT first
time. |
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Geoff Lee
Donkey
Dad, Mr. Lee.
Defender.
30 (Aged early due to wayward son).
A stalwart of the Club and the community. Often overheard at the bar
muttering “What did I do to deserve a son like that?” into his beer
glass.
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Peter Hirons
Pete.
Defendus Extinctus.
They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.
Former linchpin of cup winning 1st XI, currently on sabbatical.
Comes out of self imposed hermit existence once a year for Vets
games before realising just what he’s not missing. |
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Peter King
The Flying Winger.
Winger extraordinaire.
Retired.
One of the Club members that has almost become part of the fixtures
and fittings. A tireless worker behind the scenes who until
recently, when he took a shot full in the plums, was also known to
volunteer his services as umpire. |
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Trevor
Jordan
Golden Virginia.
Prone.
Pre-dates ready rolled tabs.
Roll-up, roll-up, it’s the Trevor Jordan show. Cool and composed on
the pitch, this defender even found time to roll a fag between
successive waves of opposition attacks. A gent of the old school,
and abscondee from a 1950’s Pinewood Studios film set, he has helped
in the transition of many a school boy into Club hockey. |

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Terence Doust
Leslie Nielsen
Usually propping something up.
Lost count, memory is failing him.
On the pitch, Terry proved he was no "Mr. Magoo" but examine his
goal-scoring record and he is more "Naked Gun" than "Lethal Weapon".
The ability to "Spy Hard" team-mates in open positions produced
great distribution of the ball and he would strut his stuff in the
bar after the game like a "Soul Man". Some would say his sense of
humour should see him answering to a "Police Squad" but his fellow
"Men With Brooms" are of the opinion that his jokes deserve a one
way ticket on an"Airplane" |
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Brian Webster
Slaps, Le Slap, Il Slap, Nous Slapons.
Umpire.
Don't even go there.
Having given years of service to the club, latterly as umpire for
the ladies team, continuous ribbing concerning his follicly
challenged pate has driven Brian to foreign shores to seek
deliverance from his juvenile tormentors. Don't let les batardes
pull the rug from under from under your feet Brian because you're a
toupee act to follow. |
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Murray
Evans
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Dave Gurney
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