Time until the next game at Benalmadena Polideportivo
Match Report by Rory
How to make the most of an infinite universe when our time is finite
The match on Thursday threw up many existential questions about the meaning of life and how important it was to either win a game, or have your pants completely pulled down, run up a flagpole and set on fire. As most walking footballers know, we all live on average for about 4000 weeks, so every game is a precious gift. Furthermore, cosmic insignificance therapy helps us appreciate that what we do with our lives really doesn’t matter at all in the whole scheme of things. We are a microdot in an infinite universe, so just get on with it, as whatever we do is irrelevant.
Against this context, two ill matched teams went head-to-head in an energetic five as side massacre as the blacks mullered the reds 8-2. The reds, having a broader view of the universe decided before kick off that they were going to gift the blacks a hat full of goals, because life is more about giving than receiving. Sure enough, after an evenly fought out first ten minutes the dam bust and the boys in red started passing to the opposition so they could hit the ball into an empty net. And sure enough Yoza, Dazza and Stan were not going to miss out on this period of largesse and dutifully smacked the ball back whence it came and into the empty goal. Blacks 3-0 Reds.
The reds summoned up the spirit of Davey Crockett and big Jim Bowie at the Alamo and fought their way back into the game after keeper Loas had wandered halfway down the pitch before remembering he should have been in goal. With Al taking a long-range shot on goal Luton’s 33rd reserve keeper had no option but to stick his hand up and concede an obvious penalty. Our Keef stepped up to take his first penalty and smacked it into the top corner. The man who used to be someone now has a perfect 100 percent penalty record. But all of us of a certain age, know how the story of the Alamo ends, so there was a certain inevitability about the next 30 minutes of football. There had to be something wrong when Dazza was grandstanding down the right wing and pinging his passes right onto the foot of a teammate stood on the other side of the pitch. There was a crack in the multiverse?
The beleaguered reds were restricted to taking 150 metre shots from their own half as they did their best to repel the Mexican hoards. What was worse, was ball juggling Yoza scored with his right foot into the top corner. Everything that guy kicks seems to evade the keeper and go in. Surely there’s something other worldly about that? Despite the mauling, big Stacy kept going and displayed a range of intricate ball skills not normally associated with killer robots sent back from the future to terminate walking football. The Skynet T3 model used every ounce of energy to haul his team back into the game. Unfortunately, the 20th Century Gyroscope that Skynet had implanted in him meant that every shot he fired off never troubled the blacks’ keeper and was more of a worry for the maintenance men re-pointing the brickwork on the Polideportivo.
There wasn’t much for the reds to celebrate in this game, but Dazza did provide their best moment. Things were so easy for the blacks that their goalkeeper was playing further forward than their centre forward (are you paying attention Pep? it’ll be the next big tactical change). Sure enough, Dazza crept up on the right and scored a great goal past Keef, who to be brutally honest was totally useless. While still celebrating his goal, your correspondent managed to stroke a ball from his own half over Dazza’s flailing arms and into the net. These small pleasures kept the reds going, but this was short lived as the all giving reds defence continued to set up the blacks to bag another couple of goals to complete a humiliating defeat. The last quarter was the walking football equivalent of water boarding, as the blacks stroked the ball about the pitch, forcing the reds to chase shadows, and have to deal with Yoza simultaneously playing goalkeeper and centre forward. Oh the horror! Thankfully Breck finally put the reds out of their misery and blew the final whistle, leaving the reds to negotiate the patronising comments from the opposition about it being a close game. Surely there is a parallel universe, because that wasn’t the one I was in!
Fortunately, the reds were able to embrace the total insignificance of the moment and set about enjoying the after-match drinks where there could be a more meaningful and deep analysis of Kevo’s tach and whether he could pass as a retired Colonel in the British Army.
Match Report by a guest reporter
REDS …4 versus BLACK’S …7
We are leaving the photo of the commander up just to publicise the AC/DC world tour, with H replacing Angus Young on lead truncheon.
Please note that none of the below report is necessary correct but hey ho…..
On a humid, cloudy, sunny dry day, 6 blacks lined up against 7 reds.
The reds went into a quick 2-0 lead both scored by Our Aud and held on to the lead virtually to the break when the blacks pulled one back.
The water break seemed to invigorate the blacks who over the couple of periods went into a 4-2 lead. Straight after the next water break, the reds scored to pull one back however the lead didn’t last long following a cracker from Kevo tman man restore the 2 goal lead for the blacks.
Cometh the hour, cometh the man, and after spending the entire game ploughing a lone furrow up front, Ken added 2 further goals for the blacks with Bambi adding a goal for reds. Incidentally, Norris McWhirter has been contacted for an entry into the Guiness Book of records as it took Bambi nearly half an hour to shout the F-word, thus shattering his previous best by nearly 29 minutes.
In a game played in great spirit, reffed by Dave the Owl and Kevo, afterwards the players retired to the bar to top up their liquid levels.
Regretfully, only beer was available.