Football is a lot like going to a seedy nightclub looking for a good time.

Sometimes it’s pretty,

sometimes it’s ugly. Sometimes, it’s messy you take what you get and make the best of it.
Sometimes you have to go and see the doctor afterwards. This was so nearly a pretty one, but
we got over-excited and finished a little early. At least we’ve scored.

Ben Gunn, as solid as hewn oak, was yet again between the sticks. It’s no coincidence that the
game he has been away for was our only defeat of a so far propitious year. His booming goal
kicks and distribution put their defensive line under a consistent bombardment.

The centre back partnership was forged in adversity. Mike Gowland and debutant Simon Taylor
were introduced during the warm up, but played together as if they had only been separated at
birth. Simon’s performance was exemplary, with stern discipline in the tackle and disproving his
supposed lack of confidence under the high ball. Mike was as Mike is, glorious. Tackles were
leapt into, attackers were cut down and short and, one mis-control, upon which we shall not dwell,
aside, he was confident and expansive in possession. The fullbacks remained constant,
consistent and cool. Seeing Amish Patel’s name on the team sheet is succour to the senses, and
Scott is a leader of men on and off the pitch. I filled in at Right Midfield for the first 10 minutes,
and Scott’s calming and cajoling words seeing me safe, like a lighthouse in a storm.

The midfield had a sense of mystery to it. James Perkins was again all things to all men and one
lucky lady was partnered by Rob Attreed, making his competitive debut and covering as much
ground in one game as some players haven’t covered in the previous three. Rob Cumber was on
the left supporting the attack with verve and vigour, and Jamie Mellor on the right was itching to
get involved. I was partnered up front by Kaka, a beast of a man with the touch of an angel.

We started with but 10 men, as Rob Attreed hadn’t arrived yet. I’d like to say I slotted seamlessly
into right mid, but truth be told I was all over the place and Scott bailed me out on more than one
occasion. Despite having a deficit in numbers, we had the lion’s share of possession and were
operating near exclusively in their half. A quicksilver attack down the right, with Kaka, Jamie,
James and myself, led to Rob Cumber having time and space ten yards from goal. His shot
lacked conviction and it was smothered by the keeper.

Rob Attreed’s arrival led to the reshuffle, and an extended period of SCB dominance. James
Perkins, manfully playing through a hangover that exists to this very day, chose to try and play
the ball out wide to Cumber, rather than through to me. Jamie Mellor was given offside in what
was a marginal decision at best, and my sense of despair at tapping home his cross was not
helped when I spun mishit my shot woefully wide. A corner led to the ball dropping out to the
edge of the box, but Rob Cumber skewed a shot wide.

They weren’t pushovers by any means, and a long ball nearly proved our undoing. Fortunately,
Ben came out and made himself big and their striker, with terror in his eyes, prodded the ball
wide. The same striker felt Simon’s breath on his neck when through, mere seconds later, and
spanked his shot as far high and wide as possible, so as not to incur our enforcer’s wrath. Soon
after I picked up the ball on the half way line, drove forward and shaped to shoot, eschewing
Kaka places in a somewhat better position. My shot was blocked, but after something of a
scramble, Rob Cumber skewed a shot wide.

Half time was full of encouragement. The defence were to all intents and purposed untested and
the opposition were arguing among themselves, their confidence as brittle as a brandy snap. One
goal and they would crumble. That was the message.

15 unadventurous minutes later Kaka was withdrawn for Gav Redknap, his last game before a
trial spell at FC Amorsolo. James Mellor moved up front with Gav out right, Gav’s energy and
drive were especially useful as the second half sapped energy levels. That said, after the stories
we were told after the game, I’m surprised Gav has any energy of his own left.
SCB remained the dominant force in the game. James Perkins had control of the centre of the
pitch, but we couldn’t unlock the door. I got the ball out on the left hand side and beat my man but
my cross was shanked away for a corner. Minutes later I repeated the trick and arrowed a ball
across the 6 yard box, but age wasn’t on Jamie Mellor’s side and he couldn’t quite reach the ball.
Some fine work down the right gained us territory and possession and the ball was worked out to
the edge of the box but the tireless Rob Attreed but Rob Cumber skewed a shot wide.

The goal, such as it was, would have broken the spirit of anyone. Robs A and C bypassed B and
gave the ball to Jamie Mellor, whose through ball was as delicately weighted as a Swiss Watch. I
raced against my marker, like Bustino against Grundy in 1975. He slid in and passed the ball
back to the onrushing keeper who, attempted to catch it. My appeal for a passback was cut short
as the ball bounced up and I knocked it over the keeper (with my knee, completely by accident),
hurdled him, and went to apply the coup de grace. I was 6 yards from goal, within touching
distance of greatness, like Devon Loch in 1956, when the whistle blew and the world stopped. I
turned with raw reproaches already leaving my lips but he had given the goal! The referee’s
reasoning that even I wouldn’t miss from 6 yards was accepted by the opposition, as we went 1-0
up.

SCB ramped up the pressure, like Evil Knievel before a leap. A corner was taken short and Rob
Attreed, shimmied, knocked the ball past his man, and was felled like a tree. The referee gave
nothing, other than a withering look and the explanation that he had lost the ball. “He was about
to lose the ball, right into the top corner.” I taunted as I jogged past the ref, but my wit was
wasted. More intricate interplay got the ball in range on the left, but Rob Cumber skewed a shot
wide.

If the first goal was comic, the second was farce. A lung-bursting run down the right from Jamie
earned all of us a throw in. Gav hurled the ball into the mixer and Jamie flicked it on. Now, I was
lurking on the penalty spot, for the half clearance, and in the wind I had heard the voice of Mike
Gowland, exhorting me to get to the far post. You can’t teach instincts like Mike’s, and had I been
at the back post I would surely have bagged a brace. As it was, Jamie’s flick on was chested into
his arm and then into the goal by the man on the line, singularly failing to appreciate the point of
being on the line, and we were 2-0 ahead. The dam had burst.

Two became three like Jules et Jim (et Catherine), or for the less arthouse, Timon, Poomba and
Simba. A raid down the right was met with nominal resistance, and Gav passed to Rob Attreed
who squared to Jamie, who passed to James who had enough time to line up his shot, consider
it, change his mind, wish he could just get some sleep and then clip the ball into the bottom
corner.

Three was as far as we got. Jamie, with three assists to his name and fed up with being the
bridesmaid and never the bride, decided against playing me in and scooped a shot over the bar.
My look of reproach was all he needed. And some fairly strong antibiotics. Rob Attreed’s cross
was blocked as I was alone in the box with enough time to claim the land and start growing crops
on the penalty spot. The ball was worked forwards through the middle, and it was laid off to the
onrushing midfielder for a strike, but Rob Cumber skewed the ball wide.

The opposition, buoyed by their support and our growing complacency, launched wave after
wave of attacks. Our defence was imperious, heading and clearing and tackling and never
troubled, but then a dangerous cross was sent in and Ben couldn’t reach it in time. Their striker
got a looped header to dip under the crossbar, and we were 3-1 up.

We were comfortable at 3-1, but when it became 3-2 after an unfortunate mistake at the back let
them in, we had our backs to the wall, which was the wake up we needed. However, this SCB
team is nothing if not 100% committed and with a fantastic display of defence we launched into
tackles, booted the ball away, and withstood everything they threw at us, which is why we will be
in the next round, and they won’t.