9:7 Red Bull United 4/3/09 9.15pm

WON 17-15
Matt, Leo3, Robbie1, Steve1, Alan4, Gareth8

The key thing you have to remember is that I don't deliberately set out to criticise our erstwhile leader and goalkeeper. It just comes naturally. I want you, dear reader, to keep in mind, that we won. That we won, even whilst conceding 15 goals, when in any other game we would've probably lost. That the gaffer let in two less goals then their keeper.

Now. There had been initial apprehension leading up to the match that we would get duffed up again by the heavy hitters Local Lads. Matt teased us with rumours and counter-rumours of cancellation, but in the end, the match was on against a new team slotted into the Lads' position. Leo contemplated Red Bull United being a professional looking, sponsored shirt outfit. Steve theorised a bunch of young hoods who liked to drink Red Bull at the weekend. Well, some of their foot work looked suited for an under the influence dance floor.

When we saw them in the flesh, they certainly looked to some Molly players as 'do-able'. Robbie was incredibly chuffed upon the sight of their keeper, declaring himself the third fattest man on the pitch, but would ultimately put in a performance that made him the best fattest man of the match. Congrats.

However, the team started shoddy. Too much loose lost ball in the middle third saw Matt concede a weak passing shot, and then Leo pin-balled a tame wide shot into his net for an obvious own goal. The opposition were playing like the rookies they were, getting used to the surface, the back-pass rule, and the prohibition of entering the D. But we made them look good. Their touches were initially awkward, and they frequently got caught on the ball. Positionally they were sound enough and their confidence steadily grew throughout the match, to the point where they were solo trying to run the ball out of defence from deep, when the keeper was the easy safe option.

After the initial weak start we stamped our control onto the football, and Leo displayed simply awesome technical displays of one touch shooting to smash home three long rangers in quick succession past their reactionless keeper. Their keeper {remember he conceded two whole goals more than Matt} was clearly the weak link in their team, a pretty static, leg heavy brute, and Gareth was determined to butcher him into tenderised meat. Gareth punished him for a blatant hand ball outside the D as Leo chased down a long ball from Matt, and would go on to at least a further seven goals. Alan ably supported the frontline, and the link-up play between him and the G-boy was almost godly to behold, but a magic piece of solo magic, saw the old timer control a long pass with one touch, drawing him inside off the left wing, and then thunder home the ball with the second touch.

At the back, we were never exposed, or lacking bodies. There may have been a couple of questionable positional moments, but Robbie or Steve or both were always loitering at the back, and when the opposition came running at them, the tackling was exceptionally holding up their attacks, and frustrating their forward play. This was a constant battle of attack, and counter, counter and attack. Leo was freed up to harass up and down the right wing - Matt actually managing to find him off the wall on a couple of occasions, and the tracking back by Alan and Gareth meant Red Bull never had an easy shot {still remembering that we conceded 15 goals?}.

With Gareth working through his shot repertoire, Leo having bagged his hat-trick early, and Alan consistently menacing throughout the match, it was either the greatest surprise or the obvious of fate, that Robbie and Steve would complete the outfield scoring. Robbie lashed a long range central shot that cruised home, like a charged power shot from a soccer video game, and Steve, in the second half, stepped forward into the centre circle, and whip curled a trademark peach into the bottom corner.

At some point during the first half, the ball got skied over the fencing. Accusing fingers pointed at Leo should instead be promptly put up their owner's bums. And in the most selfless display ever, the referee reticently earned his match fee by running back indoors to get another ball (and a spare) whilst the theme music to the slow-mo bit of Chariots of Fire played in his empty head. Ten minutes later, and I was ten minutes older, and the match re-started, with a little Molly momentum lost.

Half time soon rolled around and we were 10-6 up. It felt like more, but we (and I use the term vicariously) had let in some soft ones. We had been organised, disciplined and we played with some semblance of teamwork. We discussed their poor keeper {remember, one of the two fattest men on the pitch}, and the need to shoot on target; the need to take better, quicker free kicks in their half; and confirmation that Leo did not hit the ball over the fencing.

By and large, the second half was just as incident packed as the first, but you'll have to excuse the memory of which half said incidents took place. Firstly, there was the greatest piece of recent skill from a Molly player, as showboat Steve outdid his marker, by backheeling a pass to himself off the sidewall, and then having the vim to take the ball back on and away. Gareth weighed in with a stunning tight right side angled drive that smashed into the goal off all three posts, and there were a couple of pure passing movements from one end of the outfield to the opposition's onion bag.

Matt contributed to the scoreline in numerous ways. The gaffer pulled out an emphatic right-sided diving save of shot-stopping brilliance, and also saved another hard hitter whilst supposedly being distracted by Leo's shout of "KEEPER!". It's called giving advance notice. But he also made a great save with his arse, as a shot almost squirmed through his legs, and he fell onto the ball, sucking it up into his cheeks. Like Foghorn Leghorn laying an egg, or Butterbean riding a space hopper.

Of course, we'd happily accept this goalkeeping methodology to the alternative of letting in goals through the legs, as Matt contrived to do on at least two occasions, on one occasion actually deflecting it into the net off his inner thighs. Worse was to follow as a soft central shot from the Red Bull's big man, having been effectively closed down by the defence, to limit his shooting to a soft central shot, then hit that aforementioned soft central shot, which wrong footed Matt, and glanced through his dipping fingers like a gentle stream into the net. What followed was not the usual tirade from Leo, but a angry eff and blind from Steve, of all people, incensed that we seemed to be throwing away all our good work.

And that's exactly what we were doing in a good (as in long) spell of the second half. Matt's central throw outs were not so much as being intercepted as being greeted with a hearty hug and a cheeky pinch on the bottom. Some of team (i.e. not me) were playing ridiculously unsafe balls that had little margin of error and were putting us under the constant pressure of the counter. The opposition trusted their keeper little and were happy to run it from deep, and we too seemed less inclined to play the safe short ball to keeper, or the safe long ball to nowhere.

Their big man was a constant threat, and Leo and Alan both felt the brunt of walking into the brick wall. Leo getting unfairly bounced away with a shoulder charge that went unpunished, and Alan trading studs, falling to ground, and getting the kick awarded against him. Indeed, direct free-kicks were being thrown around in abundance as the game turned scrappy, and we attempted something we had no scooby doo about - being hard. Frustration was creeping into our subconscious as we lost focus on playing the ball and more on gipping at the ref for his lame decisions. A couple of late steady goals from Gareth allowed us to hold onto a lead that we didn’t realise we were so close to losing.

Robbie continues to have a winning talismanic effect on the team, like a golden Buddha, and Grandpa Steve continues to rehab nicely from his groinal injury. The team looked fitter, and it was good to see Don back on the scene, sexy leg stockings and all. And there was a beautiful wafting smell of shit that raped our nostrils to further enhance a fantastic action packed game.