The Vale were back at home, no longer a bogey pitch but the site of the glorious history-in-the-making first victory over a team in the cup and in a higher division. The usual tall stories started off the meet whilst the nets were erected. “Phwoar you should have seen this bird”, “I had forty two pints last night” and “My daughter said ‘ba’”. This inane babbering seemed to settle the Vale and calm the nerves, especially when facing the potential of extending a three game winning streak and a four game unbeaten-a-thon. Who was the opposition? The Ladyboys? The Ladyboys of 5-4, four nil up then thrown away by dirty cheating reffing? The Ladyboys of “Who laughed? Come out into the centre circle and I’ll beat the crap out of every last one of you” fame? Bloody hell lads chatter away, get those nonsensical ramblings out into the ether and settle those churning loins… erm… bowels. Luckily Brew did his best to diffuse the tense situation with a well prompted ‘attempt’ at the crossbar challenge, unfortunately landing arse first, clad in Sunday best tweed slacks, in a muddy puddle. Always willing to take one for the team, especially in the arse department.
And so it started, the heavens opened and God let forth the torrent of cold stingy piss from his holy hosepipe and all didst get the most golden of golden showers. Then came the Ladyboys… “Is the nutter there?” “Which one?” “Sav’s Grandad”… “yep there he is”. So off kicked the Vale with Danbo on a hat-trick of nosebleeds in consecutive matches so riding on antagonism level 5. As always like a pensioner who’s just taken Viagra, the lads were slow to start, off the pace and a bit stiff. Passes went astray and ashtrays were passé. The ball was given away and nobody seemed to want it back. Why must we Valains be forced to watch this week in week out, the fear of conceding a goal or two before the boys finally get their heads on. And shocker Dumpy up front for the Ladyboys decided to get the ball on the edge of the box, was neither closed down by the midfield or Camo (in his defensive zone), and popped a feeble looking shot passed the startled Sofa and into the bottom right corner. “Head up lads” came the muffled cry from Slovakian Laan. 0-1.
But at least this would be the flick on the testicles the Vale needed would it not? It would not. They continued in the same vein, playing bollocks and getting well and truly shafted for the next 7.23 minutes then suddenly the switch was flicked, the bean was tickled and full arousal had arrived. The Vale’s eyes glazed over in unison as they entered a spirutual, quasi-etheral state and the ball started to do the work. Andy threw the ball out to Pedro, it was passed around the back of the defence, Geremi slotted the ball up the line, Mick latched on, Laan and Savo were formation running in the middle, working off each other like lesbian sisters. They frolicked in and out of the ladyboy defenders getting more and more space waiting for the ball to come across… and finally, weeks of crossing training for the smelly one finally coming to fruition in one special moment… the ball came across, perfectly weighted, moving quickly past the defenders but Mick expertly attempting to use Laan’s excess mass to slow the velocity as it approached the Valites in the middle. All watched as it floated across in slow motion, this was going to be the best cross ever, converted with pin point accuracy as Jupiter entered Uranus and the stars aligned… until “F*ck this” said Mookface of the Ladyboy back four. He caught the ball, bounced it twice twixt his drinking straw pins, round the back and slam dunked over the bar. ‘Peep’ went the ref’s whistle. “PENALTY? WHAT THE F*****?” Unselfishly Laan stepped up to the plate, stuck the ball down, took one, two, three steps, turned around and smacked the ball at the goal. Luckily the keeper dove to the left and the ball powered through the space he had previously occupied. Not pretty but an equaliser nonetheless. 1-1.
Finally we started to get on top with some flowing football, the rain slowed then stopped, birds began tweeting again and the lads started to feel like the effort made to drag their sorry arses out of bed was worth it. Then a straightforward lob over the top of the defence was met by Camo. He faffed about a bit, thought about laying it back to Andy, then thought again. Eventually one of the Ladyboys closed him down and proceeded to attempt to hump the ball out of him. Not one to take one for the team, the gaffer fell over bottom to the ground and the Ladyboy passed across to Dumpy who slotted home from 5 yards out. Brew bellowed at the Boss, not sure whether it was because of the giving away a goal or the poohole action he had turned down, but most importantly the Vale were behind… again. 1-2.
Half time came and the gaffer called everyone over quickly. Inspiration seeping out of his pores, the lads rapidly took a knee to listen to some worldly words of ancient wisdom. Cue tumbleweed. Camo didn’t speak for 6 minutes. Or at least he didn’t seem to speak… whether there was some kind of subconcious communication so to avoid any tactics being spilt to the opposition, this reporter cannot possibly comment. Let’s just say there were a lot of puzzled looks and scratching of heads. Finally the inevitable words erupted from his mouth “Enjoy yourselves”.
Out they went and straight from the off this was a stronger team, everyone had found that extra bit of juice and that upped gear. Shots started raining down on the Ladyboy keeper like rain and he didn’t look too happy about it all. Then the Vale got a corner. Nutter, marking Danbo, had heard whisper of the nosebleed hat-trick and decided to do the business. A well timed forearm smash was actually less than well timed, as Ratboy ducked, his conk following suit albeit with a slight lag, and the corner came over and landed square on Nutter’s arm. Yet another great set play from the Vale. ‘Peep’ Penalty. “F*CKIN PENALTY? WHAT THE F**K??” came the standard reply. Again Laan stepped up, this time banging the ball into the corner of the sprout bag, well away from the clawing hands of the shortarsed keeper. 2-2.
Well, the Ladyboys were less than happy now and as usual the Vale motto of enjoy yourselves was starting to pay off. As the Ladyboys tired, the pitch opened up like the belly of the Ton-ton when Han Solo rescued Luke on the ice planet Hoth. Half chances became full chances and tackles started flying in but the Vale made them look like monkeys… well more like monkeys. A move was started by Geremi at right back, passing to the smelly one down the line but carrying on the run. Micka ended up on the goal line after running too fast, stopped and crossed the ball, less refined than his previous effort but satisfactory nonetheless. A superb dummy / showboat pass by Geremi to claim the assist went through to Laaner on the penalty spot to smash home for the hat-trick. 3-2.
Dan and Matt decided fun was to be had and started having a score from the corner competition, Matt from the left and Dan from the right. Shorty in goal, Shortarse on the front post and Shorty McShort on the back post had little chance of keeping the ball out but the ball just wouldn’t go into the net. Little Sav curled a beautiful strike from outside the box only to float just over the bar. Another well worked team up from Sav and Laan and another strike just wide. Finally the next goal came. Savo laid in Laan down the left hand side. A few tricks from the Laanster gave him enough room to cross to Alex and despite his best efforts to look unsettled and spoon the shot it was converted coolly to put the Vale two up. 4-2.
The Ladyboy temper was starting to spill over, two players were booked for whinging at the ref and Sav’s grandad, keen not to miss out, attempted a serious assault on Tigger by kicking the bucket… no not dying, but booting the medical bucket. Luckily Tigger came off shaken but unscathed. The bucket came off less well, having to be put down that afternoon in a sombre ceremony attended by family and friends, and Sav’s Gramps received a booking and a wet foot for his trouble. With five minutes to go, surely the points were in the bag. The Vale had avoided being dragged into the mire of arguing and allegations of cheating and Dan had not been involved in any action… or had he. Jumping with Nutter for a header he quickly went down in the middle of the park. The ball was kicked out and everyone crowded round in anticipation… a muddy hand revealed a few drops of blood, the collective crowd inhaled… “Don’t worry lads, it’s me cakehole not me shnozzer!” exclaimed Danbo to the cheers of his teammates.
The Ladyboys didn’t want to roll over though and a final attack saw Dumpy closing in on the Sofa with Brew alongside. All could foresee the goal, all except Andy that is, as he moved off his line like a gazelle with the Flash’s superhuman running ability on a fast moving travellator and dove at the attacker’s feet. Superb save. Everyone on the Vale side stopped and applauded Andy for his excellent and courageous save. Unfortunately the ball didn’t go out of play and fell back to Dumpy’s feet for him to stroke home for his consolation hat-trick. 4-3. Oh well so what, what about that save though?!
And the ref blew. Time for a little more of “F*cking cheats, you had the ref in your pocket you c*nt” from the sore loser ladyboys and a quick drafting of a 99p invoice for a replacement bucket before the lads retired to the changing rooms for some well earned p*ss taking. Back to winning ways indeed Mr Vale. Elementary my dear Watson.
Attendence 9.
