The draw for the Sunday was kind to the mighty Sky Blues, not necessarily in terms of opposition, but certainly in terms of timing: we were given an 11am start against Airdrie, quite a few of whom were pissed up in the bar with us on the Saturday night.

I was woken up on the Sunday by Britney, berating me for having stolen all the toilet roll from our floor's lavatories. Since he was waving the evidence at me, I thought it best not to argue and went in search of some breakfast instead. After that, it was a trek up to the pitch for our date with destiny (although I hit the Leeds mini-bar again whilst we were warming up).

Thankfully, Airdrie didn't look any less hungover than ourselves but did look susceptible to the ball being punted over their defence. After already having muffed one such opportunity, I got on the end of a long ball from Mick. The covering defender, not in a position to make a tackle, resorted to shouting "You're offside!" at me. Am I hell, I thought, whacking the ball in. Sure enough, the flag had stayed down and we were a goal up. Despite this fillip, we didn't really establish a rhythm during the game, although I thought we were still the better side. Dons in goal (who has somehow managed to escape mention so far in this report) particularly distinguished himself with one excellent save from a close range header. 1-0 the game finished. Although it was a tense game and a few of us received knocks, it was sportingly played. I remember exchanging laughs with the full-back about quite how plastered we'd all been the previous evening.

We were now faced with a repeat of our 1999 second-round epic against Watford (we lost 1-0 that day, despite solidly pumelling their goal for the entire 30 minutes). However, it was Watford who set the early pace, playing downhill and pressurising our goal for much of an exacting first-half. The change of ends brought us a change of fortunes, though, as we were attacking down the slope. Another change was the introduction of Peruvian midfielder Lanie Stan. The Inca Llama produced a display of silky South American brilliance which saw a header against the bar, a close-range volley blocked on the line and, best of all, a spectacular overhead kick, which narrowly cleared the goal. Although Lanie's crusade for a first score since puberty proved fruitless, it was tremendous fun to watch- especially when an over-exuberant attempt at a header left him entangled in the opponents' goal net. A frantic match ended goalless.

Which, as we all know, means penalties!

First up for SBA was Tim, who buried his shot into the bottom left-hand corner of the goal. Watford's first penalty taker hit a Di Biagio-style shot against the bar. The lad looked gutted, and I couldn't blame him. Orca stepped forward next and fired his shot to the left of the keeper, who had gone the wrong way. Watford's player knocked his in and I also scored, the keeper going the wrong way again, to my immense relief. Watford scored again to make the score 3-2, and up stepped John McCutcheon. The skidmark-bonced wunderkind smashed his shot towards the bottom left-hand corner. We saw immediately that the keeper had dived the right way, but the ball flew past his outstretched hands. John, who had frozen in mid-stride, gave a jump of celebration and Watford couldn't afford to miss another penalty. I was convinced that Dons wouldn't attempt to save the next penalty, since he was down to take our fifth- I was proved wrong: the debutant goalie parried the shot and we were in the quarter-finals.

Although delighted to make the last eight, I felt for the Watford lads. We've played each other quite a few times now, and get on pretty well. As new match tomfooleriser, I'll definitely want to sort out a game against them as soon as possible.

We had fifteen minutes' grace before we faced Bradford for a place in the last four of WorldNet. Unfortunately, the Watford match had left us rather drained. An early ball over the top found the Bradford striker running between our defenders and he clinically finished, causing much profanity amongst the rear guard. Bradford could have pressed home their advantage in the early stages, but were denied in the main by some great saves from Dons. Our best effort of the first half was a lengthy run from Liam, which culminated in a left foot shot at the keeper.

Half-time brought us a particularly resonant piece of Cassidy quotage: "Don't beat yourselves up for making the occasional mistake lads- if you never made any mistakes you certainly wouldn't be playing here would you?" Fair point.

The second half was agony, trying to chase and harry the Bradford players on exhausted legs. Unfortunately, an element of panic had crept in and, when we did get the ball, the urge to thump it forward usurped most of our attempts to play good football. The fifteen minutes was over in what seemed like a trice. To be honest, Bradford were worth their win, being a fit, well-organised side, but also a decent bunch of lads.

Oh well, a last eight finish isn't exactly the end of the world. In the aftermath of the match, Russ announced his retirement from management for the nth time (just like he does every WorldNet), Pete announced his retirement from match tomfoolerising and me and Tim are suddenly looking at a lot less free time.

Lanie Stan was voted Player Of The Tounament, with Liam and Orca also receiving honourable mentions. After that, it was time for Orca Cabs and the bloody M1. For those interested, the Unofficial WorldNet champions were Charlton, who beat Bradford in the final on penalties.