Match Report
With twenty minutes gone, playing up a steep hill and against the wind, and at 2-0 up, it seemed like the dream would surely become reality. Set up in a 4-5-1 formation, pressure was soaked, the game was controlled, organisation was supreme.
An excellent Rogers corner resulted in the mother of goalmouth scrambles with ten minutes gone. The ball eventually ricocheted out to Eddie Jones, lurking on the edge of the box, and his excellent curling cross-shot established the lead. Ten minutes later excellent work from Mornington put Clay in on goal and his cool finish doubled the lead.
The hardest of the 9 game winning streak was probably Nomads at home, and this game was no less competitive than the last. The skipper’s polite request for the return of the ball for a free kick following a foul on Russ Hall was declined with the charming refrain of “Fuck off you prick, I remember you from last time”. I suppose it only reflected what most people were thinking.
The lead was preserved until just before half time, when the Vets were caught on the break. A cross from the left floated towards Pointon, who had been left with two men to mark. He went for the one at the front, the ball to the one at the back, and the hosts were back in the lead. “Shut the fuck up and pick the ball out of the net” said another charmer shortly afterwards. The game was on.
Market research has revealed the Co-Op as the provider of the best oranges but half-time was a serious, concentrated affair, the determination to keep the lead resolute. But then for ten minutes we somehow lost our way, the organisation that had been so good wasn’t, the shape was distorted, the lead was lost then a third Nomads goal put us on our heels. Chances came. A cross-field free kick from Rogers was nearly headed home by Clay. Bodey, pushed forward, closed the keeper down, the ball broke to Mornington but he couldn’t quite get the ball out of his feet. Whyte pressed, Bibby ran, Killen chased. But to no avail. A hard fought game, but we came up just short.
The game nearly done, the skipper leapt (allow some poetic licence, please) above Clay to keep out a corner. He fell awkwardly on his ankle which has swollen like a balloon. But fear not, Kingsford is travelling to London and will gather his kit together when he reads this report.