As the Mighty Vale’s mighty bus turned up to pitch in deepest, darkest Starbreege, a collective shudder passed through the teams backbone. The pitch was a school pitch. Vivid memories of lunchtimes spent alone with a cruel mistress, the stench of bad breath and the cane… not all good memories though, some remembered the weird caretaker who insisted on watching you shower through that little peep hole, you know the one that Mucko stuck his nob through once and the matron caught him? Well anyway, reminiscing aside, the lads trudged in to meet the gaffer of the Stourbridge Spots. “You’re in the girls changing room lads”. Spots 1, Vale 0.
Camo, knowing that a little pre match incentive might do some good, decided to offer a pint to everyone if the Vale actually won…. Not this game, that wasn’t important, the next match against extreme arch rivals Mostyn Boys. A point to note and one to celebrate if the nasally abundant one actually reaches into his skyrocket and fulfils this promise… watch this space.
Anyway, suitably empowered and high of spirit, the lads marched out and off kicked the match. The first attack of the game came and went and a long ball over the top saw the Sofa come racing off his line to collect, only to receive a boot to the bollocks for his trouble. “It was there to be won” said the player… “Good aim” said the Vale, knowledgable indeed about the size (or lack thereof) of Andy’s baby berries. Luckily our beloved keeper was prepared for the strike and had practised for just such an eventuality that very week in training with the help of the captain. This heinous assault was to be the standard of the match thereon. Any ball bouncing anywhere near a Vale player was met with “Hand ball!”… very amusing I must say. But finally some extended pressure was converted into… well a graceful reverse pike twist from Beaky just inside the Vale box after a challenge from Mick. The penalty was awarded and all the Vale didst protest. “He must have dived ref, look at the bloke who tackled him… if he’d have made contact our Mick would have a very broken leg at the moment…” to no avail. Up stepped Beaky and despite a supoyb dive from the recently recovered Andy, a fingertip was all he could get to a well taken penalty kick. 1-0.
Not exactly plan A lads… The match continued and the Vale woke up a bit, passing the ball around and making the odd chance but never looking that dangerous. Accusations of taking the game too seriously were bandied around but no-one cared. Our lads started to get kicked up in the air and the ref didn’t really seem that bothered about it… “The ball was there to be won” was bandied around again… “It was there, but then it was gone and you still kicked me…” came the retort. Anyway it was all for nought as all of a sudden a crap shot was met at the back post by Mister Squealy and tapped in from one yard. Most of the team couldn’t hear the celebration, but by the obvious unrest expressed by the dogs roaming around the pitch, it was loud and indeed squeaky. 2-0.
Mick tried to get into the game using his tappy tappy run run but the defender’s had it sussed, with one dropping off to get the ball after the tappy tappy bit. It seemed the Spots had been researching and were using the website against the lads. Mick also missed one of his usually safe 1 yard tap ins, commenting the keeper got a finger nail to the cross and also that the balls were all crap. Camo attempted a crappy black country accent to mock the opposition, their number eleven stuck out his baboon arse for the fifty third time, someone said handball and well that’s about it for the first half.
Half time came… “Mick why don’t you learn a new trick?” “I’m too old for new tricks mate”.
Back out they came… new returnee Rich, keen to enrich our team with tricks and tales from the Premiership, swapped for Alex, and Laan cracked a crap gag… “Ref sub.” The ref looked at Rich, “No ref, you!!” giggle giggle giggle. And off they went, the lads still getting knacked, Laan getting taken out by Fatty McFatfat at the back who actually ended up coming off worse… like a big fat giraffe falling over… Dan and Matt got booted up a few times but it appeared the ref had had his shirt repaired by his good lady wife and she had sewn up his card holding pocket. After fifteen minutes of misery, they scored again. A long ball over the top floated over Steve and Pete ducked only for it to drop to Nobby who again tapped in past the startled Sofa. 3-0.
Time to retaliate, the lads started kicking back, but was it too late. Senor Baboon didn’t like getting kicked and said so in a strangely feminine whine. And then it came, the best move of the match. A ball out from defence from the Pedro went up to Gougey and in front of him, on the left, was… no it can’t be, its Mick! Utterly right footed, the Mickster was out of position and well out of his depth as he received the ball and continued to the byline. A deft outside of the right boot cross was met by Matt and bish bash bosh, they’d scored. Mick gets the record for most celebrated assist and Matt was left mostly alone as he trotted back smugly. 3-1.
Could they get back into it? It seemed unlikely and as the minutes passed impossible. Rich showed the lads how to be caught offside and Laan was quick to pick it up and demonstrate his newly found skill. A couple of half chances, Rich missing from close range, Smudger vacationing from his centre half position had a one on one that was well saved. Tackles continued to rain in and then Pedro got nailed. Picking himself up I’m sure I heard a ‘sunshine’ or two thrown at the offending Baboony. “Well, erm I went to witty retort college followed by three years of heckle comebacks at DeMontfort and erm… you’re just a erm… A mophead!”. “ WoooHOOO!! He called me a mophead!!” said Pete and that was enough for self proclaimed barberphobe. He had realised his dream and promptly left the pitch for pastures new. “Man you lot just can’t take a joke can you” said Baboony. The poisoned dagger currently ripping its way into the Vale’s heart was to twisted however with a final insult, and for once not of the barnet dissing variety. Somebody got the ball outside the box and a shot was unleashed. Andy saw it coming though and with an athletic showboat save tipped it over the bar… of a five a side goal, and it promptly dribbled over the line to elated squeals from the Spotty twats. 4-1.
And so it ended… the game and my love affair with the so called Mighty Vale. Kicking practice this week in training I think… take your shinpads.
Attendence 12, including 2 blondes (no matching collar and cuffs however)
The Nibbler
