A day with no referees, only the players know if they tried to abide by the rules or not. As usual, video evidence is available here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKFoPbbB-CA
Toni was tasked by Colin to make notes on game 1.
Having scored his once in a lifetime goal in game 2 Sean was in the mood for more and was selected to play in game 1.
I guess he’s still scratching his head as to how he could surpass Mondays high by scoring not one, nor two but a hat trick!!
The record will show the score was 5-5 with goals from:
Bambi 1-0
Graham F 1-1
Sean 2-1
Steve ed 2-2
Dave B twice 2-4 reds
Bambi and Sean 4-4
Steve ed 5-4 reds
Sean last minute 5-5 and his hattrick.
Match 2 report from Rory.
The aged ball jugglers continued their forlorn search for the “spirit of the game”. It was another beautiful sunlit day at the Polly-put-the-kettle-on. In another stroke of genius, it had been determined that it would be a game of reds against blacks. Only this time, most of the players had their new shiny WFS badged red and black tee-shirts on. How smart they all looked. Anyway, those shirts were also capable of generating enough static electricity to power the whole of the Costa should there be another breakdown in the national grid.
The blacks were overpopulated with a load of Dave’s not including Tommy, who for some reason is also called Dave. Don’t ask me why (that’s an issue for Interpol). The blacks certainly looked strong, with Dave the Fox (aka alter-ego Vardyman), Dave the twin overhead gasket Cab, Dave the King and Tommy aka Dave. This gaggle of Daves was supplemented by duracel driven Lawrence and walking wounded Kevo and Rory.
The reds once again had the ever-reliable Eddie between the sticks with his reinforced goalkeeping gloves. It was a pleasure to welcome back Hungarian wizard Jonny, after all, why hit a short simple pass to feet when you can bang it the full length of the pitch and into touch. The reds had “spirit of the game” chief advocate our Keef playing all over the pitch as usual. Plain speaking (incomprehensible) but very skilful Martin deployed himself in midfield, while Steve glided about the pitch picking an argument with anyone in the opposition who might just decide to give him the ball to make it all stop. Mick was much nimbler today as he had learned to use his fingers to work out how many touches he had and could therefore ditch the abacus.
Both sides were tentative as they concentrated on building up their possession statistics as opposed to scoring a goal. Something was bound to give, and after a rare attack (so rare it was last seen in the British Museum next to Tutankhamen) the ball fell to our Keef on the edge of the box. He didn’t hesitate to drill the ball goalwards although it seemed to be heading just wide before it flicked off Tommy’s calf. The dubious goals committee didn’t hesitate to award it to our Keef as they didn’t want him to get angry with them. Reds 1-0 Blacks.
The blacks were stunned, but before they could finish saying “we’re still in it”, they weren’t. A lovely through ball set up superfast Fez on his trusty left peg. Although he was still mourning Boro’s disastrous failure to get into the playoffs (Carrick to Hull anyone?), he spared Rory the 100mph bullet shot and instead pulled his cultured left foot away from listening to Mozart and used it to slot the ball past the frozen keeper. Reds 2-0 Blacks.
The Blacks were down but not out as they still had the evil goalscoring genius Dave (aka the Vardyman), who was singlehandedly capable of turning the game around. Sure enough he worked his dark magic spell and was once again in the right place at the right time to fire the blacks back into the game. Reds 2-1 Blacks.
Without a referee, the game started to heat up to gas mark 9, or 230 fan, if you’ve got an electric oven. It could have been something to do with age, but the players seemed to have forgotten all about the mythical “spirit of the game”, as they did their best to kill it off completely. But the chances were starting to flow at either end as the game opened up. Fortunately big Dave had dropped into goal for the blacks and proceeded to pull of a series of remarkable saves to keep the blacks in the game. At the other end the Vardyman had lost his potency and unbelievably missed a series of sitters, and I mean sitters. The blacks were in the ascendancy but when they did manage to hit the target, Eddie and his reinforced fingers kept them at bay.
Just as the spirit of the game seemed to be succumbing to this existential threat Rory showed the boys how it should be done. A nice ball in from Lawrence allowed Rory to stab the ball home from the corner of the box. As usual there was a lot of moaning about the scorer being in the box. The goal would have stood if not for Rory admitting that his big toenail had transgressed and grown into the box. VAR showed that the nail was 0.00000001mm over the line. Halleluiah, the spirit of the game was restored.
Meanwhile, crafty Mick positioned himself in front of the black’s goal, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed. And indeed, he wasn’t! Sure enough after another period of sustained pressure by the blacks the reds booted it up to Mick who somehow managed to flick the ball over Dave’s prone body. Reds 3-1 Blacks
As the seconds ticked away a great threaded ball from Rory split the reds defence allowing the ever-reliable Lawrence to beat Eddie from close range. Unfortunately, this was too little too late the Reds held onto their 3-2 lead. Final score Reds 3-2 Blacks.
We are approaching the 8 years anniversary of the club forming so look out for further posts over the weekend
