Thanks Once again to Danny Mac for this wonderful account of Worldnet 2001
Worldnet comes but once a year and after some untidy performances on and off the pitch in y2k, I’d been looking forward to this one for months. After a torrid trip up the M1, highlights of the first night were Dan "Barbie" Hobbs of the Net Baloos and his shiny new hairpiece; our youthful trio of Ali, Joe and Lanny stealing a mattress from someone else’s room to ease the sleeping arrangements behind door 44 a bit, and losing my voice within half an hour of entering the bar.
The morning found the SBA in fine fettle, with the lame exception of my roommate Edwin who was yacking up in the sink. Our qualifying group comprised Man Utd, Celtic A, Exeter, West Ham and Hull City. On paper, a tricky proposition, but we were quietly confident.
SBA- 1 Man Utd- 2 (d’oh!)
For the first half of our opening fixture, we looked pretty good. Firm at the back, pert in midfield and tantalising up front. An early goal arrived when Orca Winkless menaced the opposing keeper, before squaring to David, who joyously slotted home. Further opportunities followed, but a few good stops from the Man Utd goalie frustrated our strikers. From there, itall went a bit Banjo. Kicking uphill in the second half, our footballing aspirations came unstitched, as we conceded possession, territory and (most damnably) an equaliser from a Man Utd setpiece. Aghast at this, worse was to follow for the embattled SBA, as a scramble in our area led to our sweeper and keeper being flattened and a match-winning goal scored. A great result for Man Utd, who turned the game around in the second half and an early setback for the Sky Blues.
Above and beyond: for me, the outstanding performance was from second half keeper John McCutcheon. But for some breathtaking saves in the closing stages, the scoreline might have reached wrist-slitting proportions.
SBA- 4 Celtic A- 1
With a bit of catching up to do, the SBA faced up to a Celtic A side who dominated possession in the first few minutes of the match, forcing the SBA to content themselves with a counter-attacking strategy. We struck gold with a Peter Myton "Pitching Wedge" corner, from which Lanny produced a fantastic header for a debut goal. Another Myton assist for the second goal, finding Joe who, from an acute angle, calmly nutmegged the Celtic keeper (one David Lacey). At halftime, the SBA looked well in control at 2-0. There were a few jitters early in the second half, when Celtic forced home from a corner, but it proved only a temporary blip: Unnerved by the power of Orca in the air, Celtic conceded another goal from the predatory Beidas, who profited from a penalty area melee. Right at the end, a few nifty one-twos left me a run-in on goal, which I finished off, despite the Celtic goalie’s attempts at psychology ("Yer gonna miss, Danny! Yer gonna miss! Etc"). A great result for the SBA, against strong opposition.
Above and beyond: in a game crammed with good performances, Lanny was outstanding. Great skill and vision in the midfield and a collector’s item debut goal.
SBA- 2 Exeter- 0
After a bit of a white-knuckle ride, we eventually overcame Exeter, but it could all have been so very different. In a lacklustre first half, the opposition had a pretty good shout for a penalty turned down, whilst the SBA struggled to create chances. A well-deserved halftime roasting from Mr Cassidy bucked us up a bit, but the Exeter defence held firm against the marginally improved Sky Blues. With the clock ticking, a breakthrough finally came from Peter Borough-Myton, who latched onto a John McCutcheon pass to lob the Exeter custodian. If Exeter felt a little put off, they must have felt doubly so a few minutes later when a defensive mix-up gave me the opportunity to further punish their goal. The 2-0 final score was a bit tough on the opposition who only slipped up twice, but it just shows what a finely honed killing machine the SBA are these days.
Above and beyond: versatile match tomfooleriser Pete Myton, who provided the crucial breakthrough goal, before taking out half the supporters with his celebration. An injury shortly after the second goal put an untimely end to the footballing side of Pete’s tournament, but he continued to contribute to the administrative side of the team (plus the sesh). Rock on.
SBA- 0 West Ham- 0
In our third match in two and a half hours, the SBA were well and truly put to the test by a disciplined and industrious West Ham side. We created few chances, whilst the Irons struck our woodwork and narrowly missed a late opportunity, when their striker lobbed our goal. A little unlucky for West Ham, but consolation for us after our early profligacy against Man Utd.
Above and beyond: James in goal didn’t put a foot (or hand) wrong all match and really earned his clean sheet.
SBA- 2 Hull- 0
Death or glory against a Hull side who did superbly in the Psinet League this year. The refreshed SBA produced a very accomplished performance and kept the opposition’s pacy front runners in check. After dominating possession in the first half, we had to settle for a goalless scoreline at the midway point. Russ with uncharacteristic tranquility assured us that our moment would come, and so it proved. A McKeown through ball/ underhit shot put Orca in behind the Hull defence and he finished the move off with style. Although we had our noses in front, we refused to get sloppy and continued to apply the pressure. A slick move again picked out Orca in space, but his shot sailed comfortably over the bar. No matter: the effervescent Banjo received the ball with his back to goal. Dismayed by the six SBA dummy runners, the Hull centre half was unable to stop him from swivelling and shooting home. Now two goals clear, the Sky Blues still kept things tighter than a gnat’s chuff at the back and played out the clock. Despite what must have been a disappointing end to the day, Hull wished us the best of luck for the morrow. We warmed down and decanted the bottle of rum I’d brought back from Cuba before hitting the showers.
Above and beyond: "Goatboy" McCrea, who put the two-hour sojourn since the West Ham match to good use by banging a dislocated toe back into place, before conducting his usual guerrilla warfare in the midfield. Hard as nails.
All of which tomfoolery left us handsomely placed at second in the group, with a well-deserved qualification for the second round against Celtic B. As Rangers were also in our half of the draw, we had an unprecedented opportunity to put the whole of Glasgow out of Worldnet. We were well aware that we were going to get a really tough match in the morning, however.
In the meantime, I was able to bask in the glory of having won the "Spot Ye Ovoid" competition, the prize for which was "a bottle of whisky of dubious provenance". This eventually transpired to be a seventeen-year-old single malt, which knocked spots off our previous Worldnet prize (signed Stockport County football, won in the 1999 raffle by Banjo). Another glorious result on a day of unbounded SBA joy. We seshed long into the night, and then John, Ross and I went around all the rooms depositing bottles of water outside the doors for unwary risers in the morn (heh heh).
As it happened, the morning brought us an unwary riser of a different sort: "Headshot" Hickman and His Half-Mast Hard On caused a great deal of mirth when he stepped out into the corridor without monitoring the rigidity of his member (or putting on any trousers). Classic. Out we went to the pitch to confront our destiny.
SBA- 0 Celtic B- 0 (SBA consigned to an early shower by bloody penalties)
Once our goalie finally showed up (cheers to Celtic for waiting). It was an absolute humdinger. The stakes were high and so was the tempo, with the commitment of both teams beggaring superlatives and time on the ball at an absolute premium. The SBA’s best opportunity probably came in the first half, when a whipped cross from Orca narrowly evaded Claire in front of the goal. Meanwhile, despite obdurate defence, Celtic crafted a few chances, but James distinguished himself in goal as usual. 0-0 at full time meant further punishment, and 10 minutes golden goallessness meant shit or bust from the penalty spot.
Obviously, Celtic had plenty of practice last year (it took 26 pens to decide the Celtic derby in y2k) and it showed. All of their penalties were clinical, whilst their behemoth in goal made two fine stops. Whilst we had hoped for better, we weren't too upset to concede the victory after the way we played: Celtic are a superb side and we took them right to the wire.
Above and beyond: undoubtedly, the man of the moment was our glorious leader "Rabid" Russ Cassidy. Despite some truly magnificent profanity in the past, he was serenity itself through this entire match. His golden goal team talk of "sod it, have a go," was inspired, as well as concise. Plus, I'll never forget the look on Claire's face when he told her she'd be starting up front. I also think it was a credit to the attitude of the Celtic lads that, when their keeper made the match-winning save on our fourth penalty, several of their players ran to console our dejected taker rather than congratulate the keeper. We wished them luck for their quarter-final against Rangers, which we would have supported them through, had we not at that very moment been offered a friendly against Huddersfield, a match that we billed as THE UNOFFICIAL WORLDNET FINAL.
SBA- 2 Huddersfield- 3 (golden goalkeeping gonad)
In tomfoolerous mood, we organised a Strachan-style randomiser for the SBA line-up and pulled out a fairly motley crew, although James ending up back in goal and Banjo (who was recording the randomising) going up front led to some doubts over the integrity of the process. However, the golden rule is "play it as it lies", so with Myton administering the tactics from the sidelines, the SBA went out for one last hurrah.
The opening stages were largely in our favour. Erstwhile sweeper Edwin, now a woeful wing-back, got put through on goal only to blaze miserably wide with his trusty left boot. We were still guffawing about this when an entirely identical chance presented itself to the SBA's resident chunder bunny, except that this time he buried it into the top corner. Relative indifference echoed around the arena, whilst Ed got over excited and came in his shorts as usual.
Despite this, the halftime team talk from Pete was a little more caustic than usual ("Edwin, it was a cross- off you come. Ali, you need to get into this game more, not that you're going to get the opportunity- you're coming off too.") Much to my dismay, some diabolical machination of fate (or more probably Myton) had selected me for second half goalkeeping duty. I took my bottles of rum and scotch down to the goal with me, knowing full well what would happen if I left them anywhere near Pete. For the first five minutes, I was absolutely redundant as the SBA continued to pressurise. Some good passing led to defensive stalwart, mailing list guru and all-round sweetheart Rory Donovan adding a second SBA goal. That was when the nightmare started: a long ball over the top turned defence into attack for the Terriers, whilst I frantically tried to get the cork back in the scotch bottle without spillage (not easy in goalie gloves). By the time I'd accomplished this, the Huddersfield striker had steadied himself and delivered a shot which left me on my arse and our substitutes in stitches. Whoops.
This set the pattern for the rest of the match, as my defence had well and truly deserted their posts. My starfish antics in goal put off the first couple of Huddersfield attackers, but as soon as they managed to hit the target an equaliser inevitably resulted. We agreed to play golden goal, although by this time I was trying to turn back a tide of tenacious Terriers single-handedly. Recipe for disaster? You bet. After stylishly thwarting one potentially match-winning scenario, I knew that the safest thing to do would be to play a short pass to one of my defenders. Unfortunately, to be in a position to do so required me to be about sixty yards further up the pitch, where my defence was now firmly ensconced. Undaunted, I set off up the left wing only to be waylaid by a northern type, who knocked a long shot into our unguarded goal and brought the footballing frivolity to an unceremonious end. The post match recriminations were quite ugly: I demanded that the defence compensate me for their wholesale desertion, whilst they demanded that I piss off for being such a goalkeeping clagnut. Touche. At this point, the rain began to descend, so we headed for the great indoors.
Thus ended the SBA's Worldnet. Immensely enjoyed- my only regret was that it wasn't about a fortnight long (unlike this report). Congratulations to all who tasted success over the weekend and commiserations to the also-rans in the "Spot the ball". Many thanks to organisers, referees, everyone we played and everyone we didn't. See you all next time.
Sounds like you played shit, take me home and don't spare the horses!