Tim Brown: Son of Zeus

Tim Brown is a little more mobile than Hercules

Rarely does the Final Word venture an opinion on the state of Forest FC, leaving comment to those who are respected around Spooners Road for having performed on the turf at the highest level. As a spectator, and, dare I say it, a 'fan' of the club, I feel it is my right to both condemn and congratulate where necessary.

First up then, a belated welcome to the new management team of Tommy Nolan and Ron Thomsett. Ronnie was my first manager when I joined Billingshurst as a pimply youth some 15 years ago, and he was entirely instrumental, and influential in shaping the gob-shite, hated training, lost his fitness, noisy pain in the arse you see on Saturdays. Thanks Ron. Tommy? I know only what I have been told and seen for my own eyes. A hybrid of Billy Bremner and Danny DeVito (although he reminds me a lot of Stephanie Beacham, especially around the eyes) it is obvious that he has settled quickly, and lo, entertaining football descended upon the land.

Players, as we know, come and go. But there is a sense of togetherness at the moment at Forest that many clubs could only dream about. It starts at training on Tuesdays and Thursdays, is evident on the pitch, and in the bar, after a few lagers. Great spirit. We have opened the doors to allow some fine young, and not terribly young talent in. And allowed some of the dead wood out. Forest, after hours, days, weeks and months of tough negotiations that make the Kosova peace talks look like a chimp’s tea party, signed Stewart McCreadie who dived into the Forest kitchen, put his marigolds on, and declared, “I’ll wash, you wipe, let’s make our kitchen tidy!”

Goalie, he of no obvious taste in headwear, Ian “Panther” Purkiss, named not for his agile and cat-like movements, but for the stench and quantity of his urine, made tremendous saves to deny promotion hopefuls Westfield. Indeed, the crowd found time to notice Ian’s kicking had become a weapon of attrition, rather than the perfume-enriched invitation to the opposition forwards we had come to expect at Forest. What we didn't know was thet he played most of the game with a broken arm. Top man.

Further amendments to our first team roster include Paul Howes and Bradley Pearce. Affectionately nicknamed Butch and Sundance (as they might be after reading this article) these two have displayed already that they are prepared to jump off that footballing cliff into the depths of Bolivia if they think it will be good for Forest. Hot diggity damn!

JP continues in a rich vein of form that dates back to before Christmas. If ever the wing-back, up-and-down role was created with individuals in mind, then the creator, maybe even the good Lord himself, had obviously been watching Ian Cullern and Steve Russell. Lacking the physical presence of some of our heavier stars (and committee members) our two half-starved, half-baked wide men gallop relentlessly up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Up and................ . Competition for places is therefore fierce, and nowhere more so than in midfield where Tony Donnelly has added to the selection nightmare, already complicated by any competent manager’s forced inclusion of the gutsy Mark Woods, and the fact that, at somewhere between 17 and 70, Joe Yeates is possibly playing his best football since decimalization.

Forest’s most famous son, Michael Fairs, a true futility (sorry, UTILITY) player, awaits the call that will send his wiry form back into the fray. At sweeper? In midfield perhaps? As Henry, the mild mannered janitor? Could be.

The final outfield scotch egg that makes up Forest’s current picnic basket, is the, I struggle to find the words, HERCULEAN Tim Brown.

At Haywards Heath a few weeks back the travelling support were discussing the likelihood of a club, even greater than ourselves making an approach for Tim. At 7’4” (as confirmed by Jim Barnes) he has been a giant in our midfield renaissance. Discovered by Danny Lucas playing with kids in the park, slotting half-chance after half-chance between two strategically placed jumpers, Tim was encouraged to join our happy band.

As with Zeus’ son Hercules who was cast down to Earth to prove he was a true hero, Tim finds himself among Roffey mortals, demonstrating to the Spooners Road faithful, that it is not the size of a man’s strength but the strength of a man’s heart that is important. There you go. Stolen directly from the back of my “Hercules” Disney video. But all meandering nonsense aside, Tim is becoming a handful for our opposition in the County League.

His cut and thrust, bob and weave, duck and dive approach to out-gunning his opposing number are a joy to watch.

When not bossing his opponent around the middle of the park, he can be heard rallying his team mates. He pops up in the penalty box in ways, the like of which I have seen only on Scooby Doo. We get a corner, Waller floats the ball in, a secret sliding door draws back, and up pops Tim Brown!

And with all these fellas playing so well together, our dream has come true. People want to play at Forest again.

Oh, and one other thing, while I think of it. I read on our website (make sure you visit https://www.angelfire.com/sc/forestfc) that Forest had put in a 7-day approach for various luminaries of Horsham’s soccer scene.

What is a 7-day approach? I thought that was when you would take a week to let some girl know you fancied her. Perhaps in the case of Sun Alliance’s Andy “Knightmare” Knight, that’s what we are doing, and it has absolutely nothing to do with FA regulations at all. We are just teasing them. I told Knighter I’d find some way of taking a pop at him in another club’s programme.

Knighter - come on down!

To all our heroes of recent weeks (including Chicken and his oft broken beak) the Final Word salutes you.