“Looks like we have enough for a football team today” thought Pugwash scanning over the “team sheet” this morning. As it turned out, we were one short at the start (even with the addition of a “trialist”) following a couple of withdrawals. Colin was last to arrive just as we were thinking that he was hiding around the corner, “waiting” to turn up at his predicted time of 09:29:55.
Once the “whistle” sounded we adopted a 5-3-2 formation as we headed over the Westwood to Manor House. The “strikers” keen to tackle the opposition had immediately created a gap in midfield. “On me head SUN” sprung to mind as we surveyed the cloud cover overhead. Back in formation again, we continued to “take the game” to Walkington. The “strikers” set off again. “Right let’s see what the opposition is made of” as we combined to overcome Bluestone Bottoms. On achieving our first objective, it was clear that our “team” were “playing” different games. It was decided to split up. Anyone for six aside?
The newly formed “team” then advanced to the next level led by Matthew P. With the “goal” in sight, a roar went up from the “crowd” 🎶”One Nil, One Nil”🎶 rang in our ears as we “ran” down to South Cave in celebration. After the restart, the “game” went a bit flat as we continued to probe the defenses, flying down Water Lane then Common lane. Sparks started to fly when an unknown “player” came down our flank. It was like red rag to a bull to Matthew P who was at the time in No. 9 position, suddenly increasing tempo in an effort to “catch” the miscreant who had the temerity to “scalp” our team. A bit more coordinated effort might have regained our “honour” but twenty’s plenty sprung to mind for the rest of us.
In the next round, we faced Broomfleet. Despite all the potholes and brickwork defense they put up, we were able to proceed safely to the next “round”. Along the way, we gained a couple of “supporters” happy to jump onto the back of our train. When the “referee”, just after Yokefleet, blew the whistle for a “foul”, they continued on their way while we stopped to phone ahead for our “half time” order. “Twenty minutes from here?” came an anguished cry as the team overheard the conversation with the cafe. “Have you been to the same school as Neil?” they asked incredulously. “It’s no more than 10km from here, easy” assured the captain.
“OK Team, we’ve made it through the “group stages” and now we face Eastrington and Sandholme” for a place in the quarter finals. In an effort to avoid meeting North Cave, we decided to adopt a different plan by heading to Gilberdyke then back through the brickworks to Broomfleet. After successfully negotiating our way to the next round at Ellerker a voice cried out in pain “Who are we facing in the final?”. The grimaces on the faces of our team were clear to see when it was confirmed that we’d be facing Brantingham Dale. A tough opposition at the best of times, but in the heat of the day, would provide an even stiffer challenge.
It was a “war of attrition” but steadily we managed to come out on top. For our “victory” parade, we raced downhill to Little Weighton with open tops as the imaginary “crowd” cheered us on our way home. “Some people were on the pitch. They think it’s all over. It is now!” Back home just in time for the “real” match âš½!