It’s early in the L household. Young H has finally stopped his nighttime mewling and sleeps peacefully in his Superman-themed cot, a tell-tale dribble of McKetchup on his chin.
In the next room, A silently slides over to the edge of the bed and swings his legs out … but misses his slippers. Half awake, he stumbles to the lavatory. Oops, a large ammoniac puddle forms on the white-tiled floor.
Downstairs, A prepares a cuppa, but the tea bag misses the mug and scalding water spatters off the formica worktop. He pours a bowl of Breakfast Oreos. Less than a third of the frosted chocolate cereal rings make into the bowl. The rest lie scattered across the kitchen table, attracting the interest of a nearby colony of ants slumbering near the fruit bowl.
After initially putting both legs through the same opening of his underpants, A gives up with any idea of socks today and wisely opts for public transport to take him to the BC’s late-afternoon EFL game against the unfancied Longwind FC. Unfancied, because they are rubbish. Nice guys, but hopeless at football ... and a daft name for a soccer team.
The pitch is well watered by the tropical rainfall of recent days, the Corinthians line up on the adjacent pitch, the crowd, bolstered by a few malingering BC cricketers, is restless … except young H, who lies in his buggy under a plastic fan attracting the innocent interest of teenagers distracted by anything of novelty value.
IG swings over a corner from the left for MJ to head home. Moments later, scorer turns provider as MJ floats over a cross from the right that bounces off a startled AL’s chest and over the line. By now, it’s clear the Longwind keeper hasn’t a clue what he’s supposed to be doing and little appetite for trying to find out. Anything swung into the penalty area more than six inches off the ground stands a good chance of being a goal. Or so it seemed …
GT creates space on the edge of the area and smashes home right-footed for 3-0. The visitors, already, are just trying to hang on – without pretence of trying to score. For 90 minutes, they struggle to make two consecutive passes. JL, in the BC goal, buffs his nails, checks his Blackberry and signs autographs for passing locals fooled by his Premiership good looks and pristine goalkeeper’s jersey.
AP, as is customary, gobbles up anything in the air. JR, CS and IG have time to play the ball around. In midfield, JR (Elder) buzzes with intent, DH lazily sizes up potential goalscoring chances, GT feints and teases, and MJ calls, controls and despatches with ease. JM, son of Silver Fox SM, gives options up front and runs unselfishly. And then there’s the skipper. Big AL.
Chances come, chances go. Longwind work out fairly quickly that A is not worth marking. The spare defender is better employed polishing boots and preparing betting slips for the Sunday horse-racing. It takes the home side a little longer to realise it’s “one of those days” for the club’s top scorer. They keep passing it to him. Kind, in a way, but a cruel mistake, nonetheless. The misses keep coming … and they get worse.
Clean through, A slips, the ball runs harmlessly to the keeper. A cross is whipped over, A, in acres of space, screws an easy header wide, or over, or into the arms of the hapless keeper. A shot on the turn scrapes the outside of the post. The ball sticks in the mud. But at least, he’s getting in the right positions.
AP arrives to head in another MJ cross. GT’s second makes it 5-0 at the break – the BC’s 100th goal of 2007. His third and fourth goals – one deliciously smacked back over the keeper’s head direct from a poor goal kick -- put the result beyond any doubt. It’s now all about whether AL can add to his accidental first.
MJ shoots from the corner of the box. 8-0. He then crosses from the left for a towering UN to stoop and head in at the far post. Between times, AL has missed the ball, missed the goal, missed the point and missed the bus. He asks the referee how long until the final whistle. He just wants to end it all.
AM and TH-S have come on and, quite frankly, AM looks a more likely scorer. AL buries a shot … wide. UN swings over a cross, AL is a metre from the goalline, the keeper has gone AWOL. The chance goes begging. A header grazes the bar, another shot is scuffed, another screwed wide of the post when the empty goal glares.
Finally, AL swivels on the edge of the box, stumbles, recovers and swings lustily at the ball, which rolls slowly, almost apologetically, goalwards. The keeper crouches to gather it but, crucially, keeps his legs apart. Not for the first time, the ball slips through his hands, and his feet, and over the line. AL is mobbed by his team mates. Double figures and, implausibly, Big Ant has scored one fifth of the total when, given 100 shots at a full-size Golden Arch, he would be hard pressed on today’s performance to hit it once.
In the closing minutes, a shot rebounds off the crossbar and AM moves in menacingly for a first open-play score for the BC. The ball bounces up, half a metre from the goalline. The defence is nowhere. The club’s Member Mentor, Founding Father and Outstanding Gentleman pulls the trigger, cocks back his left peg … and CS arrives just in time to smash the ball home for his first goal for the club.
A Sunday walkover win against CFU puts BC second in the ESPZEN Div 5. The top three teams are locked on 19 points, with BNP Paribas top on goal difference and having played one game fewer. Third-placed Gogooryo forfeited their game on Sunday against Killer Whales – to give us a chance, and lift KW off the foot of the table. Our EFL tally is now four wins from five, and a goal difference of 29-7. Oh yes, and we’re in the EFL Cup semi-final, drawing 2-2 with Titans after the first-leg so, with able bodies, commitment and desire, three trophies are there for the taking.
BC Corinthians went down 5-0 … and then drank most of the jugs of Tiger in the Sports Bar.
Man of the Match: AL … only because there’s irony there, and he’ll miss it.
OK, GT for four cracking goals and an imperious performance at the heart of the midfield.
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