Time until the next game at Benalmadena Polideportivo
Match Report by Rory
Welcome back sports fans. With the Human Rights World Cup getting underway with a snooze fest, it was up to the aged ball jugglers to restore the reputation of World Football. And the toe-pokers didn’t let the assembled crowd of lost migratory egrets down, as they stopped off for a breather on their way south. The game allegedly kicked off at 11 am but passengers on the legendary 103 bus will swear under oath that they couldn’t see anyone moving on the pitch. Gradually, the arthritic athletes soon started to shift their aged frames and show their class. The blacks started off well with Olaf making some good early moves over no-mans-land and landing a few early blows on the reds’ defence. Big Al made a conscious effort not to deploy his superpower and existed in only one universe, giving a good impersonation of Martin Chivers, and holding the ball up well for others to feed off.
Keef was running around the pitch like only Keef can do in a game that is meant to be about walking but he did have some great support from Stephen who had deployed several diversionary arguments about running and whether Dazza was the measure for the notorious over head height rule. This gave the reds an early territorial advantage and allowed them to build pressure on the blacks’ goal. The commander was in control for the reds midfield and made sure some of the blacks picked up a few unfortunate injuries while slipping on some strategically placed bars of soap. Boris was having a blinder with his silky touch and passing showing what Bolton missed when he retired in 1874. His surging runs down the right flank opened up a few early sights of goal for the reds who were starting to look dangerous. Dazza was having his usual blinder of a game, firing shots anywhere but towards the goal and dishing out multiple apologies for multitude of infringements and bad passes.
Bambi was having a good game in goal and had saved everything which came his way. However, after a scramble just outside the box, the myopic glove man accidently scuffed the ball out to Welsh wizard Steve who entered a dream like state as he imagined scoring the winner against USA! USA! and drilled the ball back first time into the goal to give the reds the early lead. Surely a great omen for Wales against USA! USA! Although the blacks were stunned, they continued to play with some passing flair particularly with Dave and Alan linking up well down the left flank. With Kevo playing libero the blacks started to get some good moves going and increasingly started to find Ken out on the right wing. The Stanley Matthews tribute act put together a few jinky runs down the wing, ending up next to the monkfish at Papa Erig’s restaurant in Arroyo.
Audrey was having a great game just hanging off the front-two for the reds and going close on a couple of occasions with some well-placed strikes on goal. And with Keef urging the reds forward and closing down the opposition with every opportunity it was only a matter of time before the reds got a well deserved second. With the reds pressing the blacks back in their final third the ball finally broke to Stephen and Keef, who (quicker than principled Harry Kane and Gareth Bale could whip off their one love armbands) slotted the ball through to glory seeker Glyn. The big man wasted no time in using his long levers to hammer the ball into the bottom corner past a full-length Bambi dive to make it 2-0 to the reds. Cue running round the pitch and pulling his shirt over his head.
The blacks were struggling to break down the reds midfield and defence with Sergei superbly disrupting any embryonic black attacks before they could have their first breath. Eventually, big Al decided to deploy his ability to move at will through the multiverse and having plunged through the looking glass found that he now had the long-dormant ability to kick the ball with his left foot. While the reds thought they had closed down the chance of a shot, the big man unleashed a curling pile-driver with his left which found the farthest corner of the net to lift the blacks’ spirits.
With Bambi now out of goal, the blacks were able to benefit from his inspirational cries of support for his teammates such as: “for facks sake why don’t you just facking pass the ball”; and “what the facking hell was that you useless piece of dog shit!” The blacks were suitably inspired and managed to pull one back thanks to a speculative long-ranged shot from Rory. Although it looked briefly like the Commander in goal had it covered, the “hand of plod” could merely assist the ball on its journey into the top corner of the net.
Unfortunately for the blacks, they were overcome by complacency and an inability to string more than two passes together. With Audrey, Steve and Keef running amok upfront, Kevo, Dave and Glyn were struggling to hold them at bay. Following a couple of near misses, Breck, on a rare foray forward, found himself in front of goal and pinged the ball into the bottom corner past the statuesque Glyn in goal. With the Commander now out of goal and controlling the middle of the park the blacks had an air of solidity about them which gave them the confidence to press forward. Keef missed the last of a hat-trick of sitters in front of goal, although credit to Dundee’s finest, Mick who put the lie to all Scottish goalkeepers being crap (even if it is true).
With the blacks desperately searching for an equaliser they left themselves increasingly exposed at the back. Sure enough the ball fell to Welsh World Cup dreamer Steve who had enough time to bash out a few choruses of Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau before firing the ball into the net and killing off any last hopes the blacks had of salvaging something. In his dream state, Steve was simultaneously collecting the World Cup for Wales, and leading Wrexham into the Premier League….zzzzzzzzzzzz. Final score reds 4-2 blacks. A great game with no dodgy tackles so well done everyone. And a big shout out to John for refereeing the match with his usual aplomb making sure that everyone made it safely to the bar.