11th December

Match report by Rory

Who would have thunk it? A woman playing football in that bastion of misogyny, that is – Walking Football Spain. Well, stranger things have happened….like…well, I dunno. Anyway, Audrey was welcomed (and I use that term loosely) into the fold and managed to establish herself as one of the toughest tackling footballers in a male dominated environment. Having announced her imminent departure to the sunny shores of Morcambe Bay, players on both sides were hoping that Audrey could leave on a high. And having left her studs on the majority of WFS players, she had one last game to collect the full set. The tension was unbearable. But whatever happened, Addidas knew they would have their logo seared onto the calves of a group of at least 50 pensioners on the costa. As in her professional career, so be it on the pitch, Audrey took no prisoners. Evenin’ all.

Anyway, down to business. The first quarter was a bore with both teams playing “proper” walking football and knocking the ball about sweetly to each other. Your correspondent was about to enter a catatonic trance when the game sprung into life. Soon to be relegated Wednesday supporter, Dave broke down the left for the reds after some neat passing movements from his team, before unleashing a rather tame drive towards wee Eddie in the blacks’ goal. In the best tradition of Scottish goalkeepers (Jim Leighton, Alan Rough, take your pick) the ball went straight at Eddie, who proceeded to let it squeeze between his bandy legs and into the goal. Typically, he blamed the fact that the artificial turf caused a dodgy bounce. Exactly the same excuse Celtic used when they were demolished by lowly Kilmarnock on Sunday. Nae matter, the reds were 1-0 up.

The reds soon started to exert their authority, and it wasn’t long before yours truly was finding Bambi up front with some great through balls only for the wirey striker to respond with his usual shout of appreciation and encouragement – “what a fackin’ useless ball!!” Big John (Jesus) Hudson was having his usual blinder in midfield for the reds although typically, when it came to hitting the target, he leaned back in his recliner and wafted the ball a good six feet over the bar. John was ably supported by his Hungarian namesake Jonny, who’s cheery demeanour ensured the reds didn’t take things too seriously. Woare Trevor was at the back for the reds….aye, aye, aye, supported by libero Fred, tidying up any dangerous breaks from the blacks.

Following another geometrically complex combination of passes, the reds sprung the blacks defensive trap releasing league 1 returnee Dave to the left of goal. Although on his own admission, the deadly owl doesn’t have the same power in his shot, he showed what a top striker his is by passing the ball into the bottom corner of the goal passed the laboured movements of the normally reliable Breck in goal. Reds 2-0 Blacks

The reds were cruising, and in a bid to avoid complacency setting in, our Keef’s AI replacement started to increasingly bark instructions to his unsuspecting teammates to pick up a man with cries of WHO ARE YOU MARKING?!! Meanwhile, for the blacks, the light breeze carried Kevo’s plaintiff cries of “play the easy ball”. Who would have thought it would be so difficult, but indeed, neuroscientists have spent the past decade trying to understand why people just can’t do the obvious. The blacks started to exert their authority, and soon Dave the Cab, one touch Han, and Kevo were grabbing the midfield by the throat and threatening to get something out of the game. With wee Eddie doing a fair impersonation of Phil Foden, the blacks could afford to send Audrey forward in an attempt to bludgeon a goal out of the wilting reds defence. It was then that the reds made their fatal mistake of allowing your correspondent to go in goal. Although reasonably good with his feet, yours truly can’t tie his shoelaces, let along save a low grass cutter from the opposition.

This message hadn’t got through to Pete, who actually hit the target with a couple of thunderbolts, one of which was zipping into the top corner. However, this was meat and drink to robocop in goal, and he was able to easily swat away the shots. The turning point came when our Keef’s AI prototype’s circuitry went awry and let the footballer of the future wander into the penalty area. Fireman John had no alternative but to penalise the gormless humanoid and award a penalty to the blacks. Up stepped Audrey to comfortably bang the ball home on her seventeenth attempt. What a fairytale ending.

For some reason the reds then fell apart, aided an abetted by a goalkeeping howler to out doo wee Eddie’s cock up in the first half. A shot from Kevo which was travelling so slowly that you’d have to use stop motion photography to notice it moving, crawled under robocop’s creaking attempt to bend over and stop it dribbling over the line. Shock horror. As they say punters, these things tend to come in threes, and sure enough the reds defence obliged by disastrously failing to knock the ball about at the back and instead, presented it on a plate to Dave the Cab. The knee knacked midfielder wasted no time in picking his spot and side footing past the liability in goal. Remarkably, and totally out of nowhere, the score finished Reds 2-3 Blacks. Well, at least the reds could console themselves on the fact that Audrey finished her distinguished playing career with WFS on a high. Many thanks to Audrey for the generous bar tab after the game.