Cast your minds back, if you will, to the first ever match report on this page. It was about a year ago, we got thrashed by those benighted Brummies and, roughly paraphrased, it went: Birmingham won 6-0. Noone has bothered to do a report.
Well, that was then and this is now. Quite a lot has changed, just not the fucking scoreline.
Throughout the previous day I called in a few favours to make sure that we had enough players to contest the fixture, giving call-ups to old schoolfriends Matthew Thomas and Jonny Dodds and a second appearance in sky blue to my erstwhile work colleague Neil Brown.
Having surmounted the team tomfoolerising hurdle, I then proceeded to get directions to the wrong frigging sportsground, prompting a few 'World's worst drivers'-style episodes in the early-morning convoy over to Marston Green.
Having banged on about the amount of hassle I had getting the fixture sorted, there's relatively little I can say about the game itself. In fact, receiving a six-goal trouncing was actually comparitively stress-free after all the prematch tomfoolery.
We initially lined up in our established 3-5-2 as follows:
John McCutch
Digger Steve David
Matt Neil
Joe Russ Dan
Sam Fin
Given the events of that evening, perhaps we would have been better off adopting the 'bedraggled Christmas tree' formation favoured by the grown-ups.
We kicked off up the slope in the first half, which put us at an immediate disadvantage. The ball spent quite a lot of time coming into our box and didn't make it into the opposing half of the field too often. Despite this, the defence were coping manfully. Right up until the point where a few nasty deflections allowed the Brummies to put away their first goal.
Stung into action, we stormed back and the celebrated McKeown 'Cruyff turn' instantly comjured a goal. Sadly, it was for the opposition, since I'd- somewhat unwisely- opted to practice my fancy footwork on the edge of our penalty area and (surprise!) got dispossessed. To their credit, the rest of the team didn't lay into me, although, had I dropped a similar clanger at WorldNet, I suspect I would have been lynched.
What followed was even better: a shot drilled toward goal and David, attempting to block it, volleyed it sweetly on the turn against his own post with John in goal stranded. Our traumatised custodian's bemusement swiftly turned to horror as the ball rebounded across the penalty area to the Brummie forward. Despite John's brave effort, the ball was swept home, providing a rather disappointing punchline to an otherwise comical sequence of events (although that does rather depend on your perspective, I suppose).
Having not given a goal away in at least ten minutes, I then let a man get in behind me to apply the finishing touch to a decent cross whilst I was covering the wing-back postition. I firmly believe that it was offside, but, with no linesmen, this is rather a moot point. Better still, I actually turned to the touchline as if I expected an assistant referee to materialise from thin air and disallow the goal. Fat chance. 4-0.
There was still time for us to leak a fifth before half-time, which we duly contrived to do, the opposing player striding unchallenged through the midfield to within shooting range before driving the ball home. A great finish, but a bit disappointing to see him get so far without anyone putting a foot in.
A few changes at half time, but not too much in the way of recrimination. Although resigned to the fact that we were probably going to lose the match, we resolved to try and tidy up our game and at least get something for our efforts.
What we did achieve was to restrict the opposition to one goal (another scrambled effort through a crowded penalty area, for the record). Meanwhile, David had probably our best effort on goal of the half, winning a header at the back post, but failing to direct it goalwards. The best incident was probably John (goalie!) getting dispossessed on the halfway line and Birmingham somehow not scoring, thanks in large part to a good defensive header from Matt the debutant.
That pretty much covers the whole sorry ordeal, plus in rather more detail than last year's pasting. I won't say that the scoreline flattered the opposition because it didn't. However, the players on the day faced a huge task with many of our key players absent and a handful of unwary debutants thrown into the side. Although our football wasn't too sharp, I can't- and won't- fault anyone for effort or attitude. There was no lack of determination in the side (although I probably lacked competence on one or two occassions); Birmingham had the better side on the day and it showed.
Not to worry, there'll be other games. This leaves me the enviable task (in the rare absence of Mr Myton) of sorting out this week's Shooters and Rooterstm. In a game defined by stalwart performances, none are more worthy of this week's Shooter award than Digger Draper, to whom I am doubly indebted because he went out of his way to collect David, then had to go back to the Memorial Park to provide transport for others and subsequently ended up at the wrong place because I tomfoolerised the directions, yet ne'er a word of complaint. Rooter-wise, I cocked up the directions and gave away at least two of the goals. However, this week's festive pantomime villain is Sam, for a tackle which I shall generously describe as 'borderline', although my exact words at the time were 'fucking hell.' Sam also received a bottle of cold water down the back in the shower for his pains, but escaped further punishment from the SBA disciplinary commitee. 'We weren't overly fussed,' a spokesperson later said.
That would be it, except for our brand new feature: Russ' scapegoat!
'Nah, I'm not doing it- it wouldn't be fair to single someone out for blame. That's not what we're all about. I'm not doing it. Mind you, I thought Steve had a shocker- never made a tackle all game. And his hair's too long. Get it cut, ya hippy...'
Disclaimer: this match report is 100% Unofficial. It has not been tested on animals. The Russ' Scapegoat award does not necessarily reflect the views of Russ himself. I say 'not necessarily' because, although those were his exact words, he probably didn't want to see them in writing. DM