And so to WorldNet, that sparkling jewel set in the collective IFA Crown. Joe, Lanie and I were well chuffed that our early start on the Friday meant that we arrived before the rest of the rooters and were able to annex the squad's entire allocation of double rooms before other people showed up and tried to assert their rights.

After that, a summary stuffing at Wembley singles handed out to shiftless local youths on the bottom pitch and a wait for the rest of the tomfoolerers to arrive.

In due course, arrive they did, and our assembled squad comprised the following:

Danny Mac
Tiger Tim
David Beidas
Woody Hickman
Two Goals Fahy
Joe the blow
Lanie Stan (he'll drive you frantic with his lanky antics)
Ali Evans
Rich "Goalie" Adams
Orca
Pete Myton
Banjo
Edwin Silvester...
Cross Ross
Martin Spare
Pissed Jed Hardy
Liam McGoat
John McCutch
Micky Hibberd (40)

With the following die-hards in support:

Di
Anita
Polly
Michelle
Becky
Chloe
Karen

All of which made for a good night's carousing in the WorldNet Bar. Joe opted for an early night, so I took the entire sesh back to our room as a bit of "tough love." Fortunately, he took it fairly well, although not so well as certain other people who were later to have their repose disturbed...

Having experienced similar tomfoolery in y2k, I was a little concerned for Ed when I found out at 5am that he'd gone missing having set off in search of the toilet 20 minutes previously (the toilet being adjacent to his room, incidentally). Jed and Ross were already doing their best to calm Karen's hysterics and we set off on an extensive Edwin search around the grounds, shouting his name, waking people up and generally doing everyone`s head in. One bloke thought we were looking for someone called Bodwin.

Although we were utterly unsuccessful in finding our diminutive somnambulist, he showed up a few hours later, with no recollection of where he`d been, although it seems to have coincided with a hair-raising nocturnal visitation experienced by Gary Hickman.

Anyway, on to the football...

Our first game was against Sports Interactive, a team entered by the competition sponsors and boasting tubby former Liverpool ace Ray Houghton in the middle of the park. Thankfully, the inclusion of Mr Houghton gave us someone we could all outpace, which was a great relief because the rest of the team looked pretty solid. The first action of the match involved Lanie trying out his celebrated shoulder charge on his opposite number and getting wiped out. Oh dear.

Having wiped the sleep from our eyes, we adjusted pretty well to the pace of the match, but then came unstuck after the opposition took a quick corner and, from the ensuing goalmouth scramble, forced the ball home. In a 30 minute game, teams can't afford to give away goals like this, and all we could muster in return before half time was a single long-range effort from Lanie.

We looked better in the second half, but were forced to play without the ball for a lot of the time, as Sports Interactive retained possession and moved it about well. I managed to shin one effort at goal, but it went over the bar. Meanwhile, the opposition doubled their lead with a badly deflected shot from the edge of the area.

This piece of downright poorness sealed our doom: there was no further score and we finished up with an avoidable, but deserved, defeat.

Our next game was a pretty bizarre friendly against Wolves, which I'd organised the previous evening. Wolves took an early lead when we got a wee bit over-excited after a corner, but we equalised when Ali produced a stubborn floater of a shot from outside their box. The keeper evaded, the net penetrated, and parity restored.

Wolves response to this was to get in behind our defence again and, from the consequent cut-back, Martin helped himself to A Slice Of Brown (ie- stuck it in the wrong end.) Own Goal tomfoolery and the Yam Yams back in the driving seat.

Into the second half, and the Sky Blues drew level again, as Simon Fahy rediscovered his goalscoring touch to "hip" the ball over the opposing keeper. After this the SBA promised to go on to bigger and better things, but a suddenly becalmed defence allowed Wolves to virtually walk the ball to the edge of the penalty area, from where they slotted home their third goal. The SBA fought back but couldn't produce an equaliser and it finished up 3-2 to the golden shower.

Next up was our 1pm showdown with Scunthorpe, defeated by Leeds in their first game, but a fit young side. Fortunately, they weren't all that tall, so we spent most of the match tonking the ball over their heads in classic Nationwide fashion.

To cut a long story short, we murdered them 0-0. The first half was completely one-way traffic and, although they had more of the possession in the second half, they didn't do much with it. Their keeper pulled out two or three stops, not to mention having to go and retrieve any number of errant shots from the massed horde of Sky Blue attackers, whilst Scunthorpe only threatened with a sharply inswinging corner at the end, which Rich gathered safely.

The game finished goalless, but we were still in with a shout for group qualification, as Sports Interactive had beaten the Lards.

In the meantime, we had the second of our tomfoolerous friendlies, this time against Stockport. This game seemed like a natural progression from the Scunthorpe game, as we kept up the good football, but looked a lot more relaxed. Stockport looked a good side, but seemed conscious that their final group game was not too far distant.

John McCutch had taken over goalkeeping duty for this game, and was involved in the game's only goal when his kick from hand handsomely cleared the opposing defence. Once I'd gone and retrieved the ball, I squared it to set up David with a 50/50 challenge with the opposing keeper, which he won, putting the ball just inside the post. The Merson style celebration apparently alluded to a pint of beer bet he had with Pete about who would score first (unfortunately for Pete, being substituted at half time had dented his prospects somewhat.)

There was more fruity football from the Sky Blues, but bugger all else happened and the game finished 1-0.

This left us with our date with destiny, in the unlikely shape of the Leeds Lards, who needed but a single point from the fixture to go through in our stead.

The game began briskly and brightly for the SBA, looking much the sharper team, but then disaster struck in the shape of a disputed penalty award (Bodwin disputed it anyway...)

We all held our breath as the opposing forward placed the ball and took his run up. As he struck the ball, Rich threw himself down to his left, but the ball seemed to be going over his head; an instinctively raised arm flipped the ball up against the underside of the crossbar. Both teams watched in disbelief as the ball rebounded down and spun away from the goal. As the penalty taker started to follw his shot in, Rich tried to bitch-slap the ball behind for a corner, only to miss it entirely. Regaining his composure and calling upon last reserves of adrenaline, the debutant keeper crawled over and smothered the ball at the striker's feet.

At this point, the whole team went mad, Edwin was celebrating like we'd scored the winning goal, meanwhile Ali nearly took the gloss off the moment by throwing Rich into the goal, ball and all, in a rather over-exuberant celebration.

A brilliant save, but we still needed a goal if we were to avoid a 9am start in the also-rans tournament. Fortunately, one was in the pipeline: a jinking run into the box from Lanie was rounded off with a precise chip which Orca nodded home. For the first time all day the SBA were in the driving seat.

Half-time came and went and we pretty much dominated the second half, without managing to add to the score. Thankfully, one was enough. The final whistle signalled that, once again, we had made the second round, albeit by the skin of our arses.

We had a few drinks whilst we waited for the other games on our pitch to be played, then we took the field once more for an entirely tomfoolerous friendly with the Lards (example of tomfoolery: defenders only allowed to use left foot, five press-up punishment for using the right.) After this, we partied hard, ate fried chicken and stayed in the bar all night singing songs and playing drinking games, Lanie Stan particularly excelled at "Pornmaster."

Sunday morning arrived, and the team looked in pretty good nick for the big 2nd round game against QPR, and a few "What Happened Next?" moments. We started off with our usual Darwinian warm-up (last 11 players to be vertical and apparently alive make up the starting line up.)

It was a good job we were warmed up properly- QPR were a fit, fast side who play a very high-tempo game. Fortunately, everyone looked a lot more switched on than the previous morning and, although the oppo had plenty of the ball, we didn't look like giving them a goal.

Then, disaster: a corner to QPR drifted deceitfully over Rich's head, leaving him stranded and Liam on the line with no chance. Into the onion bag it went, leaving the SBA aghast and the spawny West Londoners jubilant.

1-0 down at half time, but spirits were still high. We were playing pretty well and could still be in with a shout, so long as QPR didn't score any more juicy goals. The best laid plans and all that...

Into the second half, and possibly the most remarkable incident I've ever seen in Internet Football (with the possible exception of Russ scoring a header, Pete scoring a penalty and Ali scoring a tap-in.)

The opposition broke down one or other of our flanks and crossed into the middle. After a bit of rebounding tomfoolery, Liam took command of the situation and headed the ball over his own crossbar... What Happened Next?

Answer: the ball hit an overhanging tree branch, dropped onto the top of our crossbar and rebounded out to the QPR striker who was stood in solitary splendour on the edge of our six-yard box. He buried it and the referee, without a second's hesitation, awarded the goal.

After a few of our players had offered their views on the rules and spirit of the game (which was done with commendable decorum, given the circumstances,) the referee pottered off for a consultation with his lino and it seemed that common sense would prevail. Even the QPR lads felt that it would be a bit peculiar to award the goal. My own relief was tempered somewhat when the referee, concluding his discussion with the linesman, blew his whistle and pointed to the centre circle, prompting a great deal of booing from the QPR bench, of all places.

The whole team looked a bit dazed after this controversy, but carried on battling to the end. John McCutch came so close to scoring when his shot was parried onto the crossbar after we were awarded an indirect free-kick in the opposing box.

Meanwhile, a nifty break left their striker clean through and with a great opportunity to score a non-flukey goal. However, that boy Bodwin chased back like an angry Ratter and wiped the lad out with a mean, but clean sliding challenge.

Try as we might, we couldn't counter the vomitous projectiles OF outrageous fortune. The game finished 2-0, and with it our hopes of absconding with the trophy for another year. Although QPR were an excellent side, they must have been quite relieved to have had such a smooth passage to the next round, given the way the game went. On the subject of their second goal, although I appreciate that the circumstances were pretty unique and the referee has the hardest job on the pitch, I honestly don't believe that, had we scored an equalising goal in that fashion, it would have been allowed to stand. That's not a conspiracy theory about a pro-QPR bias within the IFA, but I reckon that, as we were a goal down already, it was reasoned that it didn't matter so much. Obviously my opinion on this is rather different...

Anyway that's enough bitching- if I'm such an authority on how to ref a WorldNet match, why don't I grab a whistle and have a go? Because it looks shit, that's why. Kudos to those brave, brave individuals.

After this, we tried to establish our credentials in the "Unofficial" WorldNet final against Dumbarton, but blow me if we didn't lose that 2-0 as well.

All that remained was the annual triumph for democracy which is the WorldNet player of the tourny vote:

In the best tradition of British democracy, it was a two-horse race. Another strong showing from Midfield Mick, but an outstanding debut from Rich in goal secured him whichever pennant we gave out (can't remember if it was Scunthorpe or Leeds.)

The "Official" WorldNet trophy was won by Celtic who beat Inter Milan in the final. For more info go to the IFA site.

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