Here I try again....Lynn Doyle in Siemens shocker! "I never thought it was
so sticky" she cryptically said.

Real Ale Madrid 3                 Siemens 1
Ian 1                                     Some fat b*****d 1
Simon 1
Lynn 1

So the game to end all games. The 7th sign of the apocalypse. Revelations
and all that tat. Even the Pope started breathing enough to put down his
flank steak mush and keep a jaundiced eye on this one. In the end though it
had all the tension and testerone of a Church and Jarvis production of
"Hallo Dolly" starring Roy and Thomas. With Soccer City employing the best
young ref they have and Rob from the cracked management team watching
closely through his catwoman glasses, the game kicked off with nary a voice
of dissent, except for Nadia in the bar who hates us playing at 11.30 cos we
are not there long enough for her liking cos she loves us or something or
hates us but likes big tips. Or something.
Real Ale dominated early proceedings with some lovely passing and touching
of naughty bits. Siemems employed two rather chunky gentlemen up front and
they were causing some real problems for the foundations of the bldg. Chance
after chance went begging for Real Ale as most of our forwards seemed intent
on blocking efforts towards goal with their backs, backsides and sides.
Inevitably, towards the end of the half, Siemems poached a lucky goal as Roy
"flapper" Boyce misjudged a slow ball into the corner. 1-0 at the half and
those wheezes and groans were not made by the heating system. With Mike from
the outdoor over 30's providing some welcome relief in midfield the second
half got underway and this is where the fun started, such as it was. After
some relentless pressure, Real Ale finally drew level with a fine finish
from Ian. 1-1. With Simon attempting some sort of Cirque Du Soleil act every
time he took the pitch ( give it back !) the entertainment value was
soaring. Simon should really not try and do a Harlem Globetrotter imitation
with his nose.
After a vicious foul on yours truly brought Roy and Chocosanta from the
other team together nose to belly, pleasantries were exchanged of the like
not heard since Oscar Wilde caugh Sir George Bernard Shaw putting itching
powder in his thong. Among the many bon mots heard by these virgin ears were
Chocosanta saying why are you so racist when Roy called him a fat c**t.
Classic.
At this point Real Ale were clearly in control of the game, if not their
bowels. Simon claiming a dubious header to make it 2-1. As the ball had hit
every other part of his anatomy, why not the head too?
With the ref keeping the game under control, some decent footy was played by
both squads until Chocosanta decided it would be a jolly good idea to try
and run Roy when he was not looking. I saw this huge blob of blubber coming
and at the last minute put my hands up and pushed him. I caught him off
balance and in the throat. He went down like a woolly mammoth at the hand of
Marks relatives from the bogs of primordial Ireland. Of course he was faking
it. After that words were said by Chocosanta, but no action taken by the
ref, so it was a fair tackle in my books.

Then, the moment we have been waiting for ever since a mischievous gleam in
our eye suggested we sign Lynn for outdoor over 30's. She got the goal that
we have been holding our breath in anticipation for. Several former players
had died going blue in the face, but no matter! It was all worth it. A
cracker it was too! A superb pass from Karsten sent Lynn in one on one with
the keeper. So many chances gone missing must have gone through her head at
that point. But she kept her cool and with aplomb not seen at this club for
many a year, she chipped the advancing keeper and the ball nestled sweetly
in the top corner as if coming home after 18 months in some Iraqi ditch. 3-1
and game over. Of course there was still time for Chocosanta to say a few
words, but he was ignored. Game over and handshakes all around and upstairs
to the bar for some congratulatory pints. Real Ale amazingly are still in
with a shout for the playoffs and if the spirit shown here (76 distilled) is
there every week, why the world is the teams oyster. Or clam. Or something.



Paul Grimes.=