The heady heights of division 5 beckoned the Mighty Vale to the far flung reaches of their automobiley challenged players with a long-driving red-eye stylee trip to the deepest parts of Callow Hill for the first match of the 2006-7 season. The scenery was sparse and flora scarce, trees grew roots upward, fish swam through the clouds and birds tunnelled and dug holes in the fresh turf of the Rock Sports Carling Arenabowl, much to the annoyance of the new groundsman. The brand new changing rooms promised to the fresh faced stars of the fifth division were promptly shut up when the Vale arrived and the lads were swiftly relegated to the six div starred portable changing rooms, much more akin to the ‘couldn’t burn em down cos of the damp’-esque doss houses they were used to back in the homely Midlands.
The squad shuffled out of the newly extended team bus and bugger me but what a squad. Since the smelly ginger one deftly sidestepped customs and left the country the ranks had swelled, with a lofty seventy two players turning up for the chance to play for the New Vale, under the instruction of the fabled lore of the ancient Ming dynasty in the guise of Ginge in a Wolves shirt. Was this to be a new step in the Mighty Vale learning to walk steps up the escalator of life? Ninety minutes plus a bit of faff would tell that story… oh and me, with my scribe of wisdom, truth and just a hint of justice. Bring on the new season.
The kick off saw a Vale virgin in the form of Just Rick slotting into the left back position, with Flopsy relegated to right back, and the first game of the season also saw another new comer, the Vale tannoy system, chaired this week by the audacious thesp, The Difference aka Carwash Stu. For the first twenty minutes our lads looked shell shocked by the pace and skill of the division 5 game, clearly a big leap up from the sixth, and decided to sit back and study this new found talent. Rock were all over the team like a particularly itchy and flaky rash, but the Vale didn’t pick or scratch at it, they just let it come over them in wave after wave of sticky white lovepiss. Finally after half an hour of play, Rock capitalised on their advantage and stuck one in the sprout bag. It came from a corner, lots of floating marking and a bit of headless chickening by Captain Ratboy, a rebound fell to one of their midfielders and bash, into the top of the net. Complaints about regulation sized goals and hitting the bar normally were quickly brushed under the carpet by the ever fair-minded ref. 1-0.
It seemed that that had been the electroshock therapy the lads needed to bring them out of their semi comatosed dreamsleep and away they ever so slowly went. The ball started to do the work and they actually made a few chances, Camo generally faffing in front of the net, invoking a “pull the trigger” from Laan – seemingly less telling him to shoot and more indicating to a concealed gunman to take down the ex-gaffer and get a more worthy striker on the pitch. Danbo, keen to avoid next weeks match against the Moriarty to his Sherlock, Mostyn, threw himself under the boots of the Rock forward and promptly subbed himself off with a comedy hand injury. On came Geordie Lee for the second debut of the game with a bootful of terror and a big fist of northern vengeance with Rock Sports name on it, and promptly gave away a freekick two seconds later. Camo settled back into his familiar propping up the back four role and all was calm. Simmo and Rupert worked hard in the middle with good linkup play betwixt wings starting to get the team playing properly. Half time came with a couple more half chances and some sprightly goalkeeping from the Rock net-protector, and off trudged the lads.
Ginge ranted and raved, the air was blue, three buckets were smashed and wages were withheld from the squad based on their lacklustre display in the first half. “You’re doing well lads, its starting to come… keep it up”. Honestly I don’t know how they take the abuse week in week out.
Over the tannoy could be heard the war music of the Vale, as the lads came back out after the break. As King Louie’s dulcet tones finished with the whoop de doops and me hee hees, off kicked Rock and the boys got stuck straight in. Finally we were seeing the form that dazzled the lower leagues last year and the gaffer could be seen to smile on the touchline. Andy got the ball and whallop, hoofed it as hard as he could into Laaner’s path. People gasped as it bounced over the defender’s head and Laaner muscled his way in front and then bish bash bosh stroked the ball into the bottom left corner. 1-1. Get in, first Vale goal in division five. Also, unbeknownst to the team or the striker in question was also, this was Laan’s 100th goal in the mighty Vale colours. No one knew or cared.
Things carried on end to end stuff, the Vale made chances then absorbed a bit of pressure, then made some more chances. Lee nearly started a fight but held back when he realised the Vale motto, “Fight on thine own, for we shall run away before throwing a punch”. Things started to get a bit heated and the Sports became a touch more pushy on the push scale of pushamability. Then it happened, a rare moment of lapsing concentration saw a cross come over, header on target and Andy forced to make a save, patty cakes style, into the net. The net fluttered, the ref waved play on, the Vale stopped then Paul “The Honesty” Chuffbrother held his mighty flag aloft and signalled the goal. Ten minutes of abuse from Andy gave Paul the keeper’s true feelings about him with such classics as “It didn’t touch the net” “Andy it did” “Yeah it did Andy” etc etc. 2-1.
Two minutes later disaster struck again, with Steve in one on one with the attacker, a tunnelling titpecker (see above for bird tunnelling explanation) upended the strawberry blond wonder, leaving the attacker to calmly stroke the ball past the helpless Andy, still remonstrating with the lino. 3-1.
No sooner could you say “bugger me it looks like they might score again cos they’ve got the ball again and they’re heading towards our goal and ups a daisy shit it looks like yes that’s in bollocks”, they’d scored another. Flopsy was a yard off the pace as the tricksy left winger cut inside and plopped the ball past Andy. 4-1. The wind was out of the sails of the good ship Vale, the sails were on fire, and the ship had run aground. Forcing the issue, Ginge looked to his well stocked bench for the player to make the difference. Rich Paulbrother looked at the ground, a tropical marmoset bite ballooning his shin to three times the size ruled him out of the change. Chuff waved his wand and after the flash Gerry was sat in his place, somewhat confused, wearing a nurses outfit… and not a male nurses outfit either. Chuff went in search of some Div 5 scalp.
A well rehearsed Mexican wave on the sidelines brought the lads back to life in time to give it one last push. Flopsy took a long throw in for Laan in the box to flick on but no, pushy pushy in the back and a penalty was given. Down went the ball, dive went the keeper and swish went the net as the ball was kicked right down the middle of it. 4-2 and 101 for the Laanster, this time celebrating as the tannoy system announced his triumphant feat. Finally the whistle blew and all could relax. A tough game against good opposition with a lesson to learn… never give Stuey a megaphone.
Attendence 10
Nibbler.
