Benalmadena 30th May

Stranger Things
The reds looked like the slightly stronger team and were packed full of “running” walking footballers with their magic adidas soccer shoes (99 euro Decathlon). The blacks welcomed the quietly spoken Nigel into the team who went to the same “stick your foot in” school of soccer as Plymouth’s finest Pete. Steve Loasby took the whistle, ensuring a fast and fair game.

The blacks started off surprisingly well with their early Pep passing and moving pretty patterns, and generally getting nowhere style of footie. Sous-chef sharpshooter Steve bustled about up front, ably supported by the alligator (Ed: don’t you mean crocodile?) stretching the red’s defence down the left.

Although the blacks had early territorial advantage with their slick passing moves, they couldn’t get a shot off. Until that is they managed to work the ball through to Hamid, who for a good 10 minutes of the game, hadn’t touched the ball. But his first touch was a beauty, as the midfield maestro swung his titanium leg at the ball and it flew like a rocket into the roof of the net. What a goal! Reds 0-1 Blacks.

The reds moved forward, with big Al taking up more advanced positions in a tough physical battle with Nigel, making a rare appearance in defence for the blacks at the Delideportivo. Bambi was giving his usual encouragement to the battling reds with his inspiring – “for f**k sake” and “pass the f$$king ball”, and “what the f%%k am I doing here”, urging the reds forward.

Sure enough the reds responded to the clarion call for action, with total runners Keef and Johan driving the team forward, and Dave the Wednesday man in the hole, working some space off front man Al. The blacks looked solid with Alan, Glyn, Steve and Pete displaying some solid defensive play and closing down most of the reds’ attacks.

Out of the blue, the blacks dozed off and handed big Al a long-range opportunity on the Queen’s platinum Jubilee platter. The big man wasted no time in spotting the chance and pulling the trigger before the complacent blacks’ defence could get organised. The shot arrowed its way through the massed defensive ranks past the helpless keeper into the bottom corner. Reds 1-1 Blacks.

The blacks quickly composed themselves and reverted to their fluid passing and moving ticca-tacca game. With Mike creating some great openings down the left and stretching the reds at the back, Stephen was finding some good space in the final third. Sensibly, he realised that rather than shoot himself (because the ball usually lands with snow on it), he laid off a great ball to Hamid who amazingly fired another rocket into the corner of the net. Reds 1-2 Blacks.

As the tiring toe-pokers moved into the final quarter of the game, Keef mysteriously disappeared into the stock cupboard for some hypnotherapy and returned with an amazing improvement in his all-round play. The blacks could smell a rat. All of sudden, Keef had the ability to control the ball and find a team-mate with a deadly accurate pass. The reds were starting to look dangerous. The blacks thought they’d secured the game when Alan in the reds’ goal inadvertently knocked the ball out to Nigel who promptly banged it straight back into the goal. Surely game over. Reds 1-3.

However, the blacks hadn’t accounted for the strangely assured play by Keef, who was suddenly dominating midfield and pinging the ball to team-mates all over the pitch. The reds were galvanised by the weirdly rejuvenated and skilful Keef although the blacks still looked solid at the back with big Mick providing a strong tackling presence.

Then out of nowhere, Keef suddenly surged forward from midfield and drilled a brilliant shot at the stunned Pete in the blacks’ goal. Pete did well to parry the piledriver up into the air, but amazingly, it dropped over his head and into the goal. Could this be the same Keef we all know and love? Why was he suddenly playing like the mercurial Man City playmaker Kevin DeBruyne. Let’s face it, most of Keef’s shots go at least 20metres (or for those still working in imperial units – 21 yards) over the bar or wide of the goal. Something wasn’t right. Reds 2-3 Blacks.

With only a few minutes left, the blacks felt confident they could hold out given the paucity of clear-cut chances the reds had managed to carve out to date. Following some brilliant play involving Hamid, Nigel and Stephen, sous-chef Steve found himself in front of goal with only Alan to beat. The diminutive shot stopper managed to close down the angle and deflect the ball round the post.

With the match drifting into “Fergie-Time” the reds launched one last attack with Johan linking well with big Al and releasing Keef on the edge of the box. The blacks defence felt certain he was going to send the ball soaring into the bull ring. But to everyone’s shock Keef controlled the ball with one touch (his second touch is normally a tackle) and then calmly planted the ball into the bottom corner in one graceful movement. A second after the ball hit the back of the net, Steve blew the final whistle. What a finish and what a game. Reds 3-3 Blacks.

Thankfully, Keef’s belief that he was Kevin DeBruyne diminished as the effects of the hypnosis wore off. And sure enough, it wasn’t long before he was involving his mates in his latest tangled web of deceit over a couple of beers. Well played everyone.