The Mighty Vale knew what had to be done... the last game of the season, hanging perilously close to mid-table mediocrity, just one result away from mid-table triumph. As ever a figure of athleticism, the mighty Vale trudged out to the field and the limbering up started. Naturally it was not all plain sailing for the gaffer. Following a flurry of activity in the changing room, Leon, unfortunately still carrying a strain of Denghi Fever, stood aside for the big man Sidder to proudly march into the back four but the remaining team was as picked by the boss.
The match kicked off to a mighty cheer on the sidelines. A capacity crowd had turned up on the bleak morning… unfortunately only five supporting the Vale. This did little to dampen spirits however and the lads went straight onto the attack. The referee had yet to remove the whistle from his lips when Pete Kajagouge-goo stormed down the left hand side, checked, cut inside then back outside, laid it off to Danbo who floated in a high, curling back post shotcrosskickitoutforathrowin sorta ball. Leaping like a baby elephant weighed down with a couple of heavy bags from Tescos, French international (synchronised swimmer) Laan Davidoss flew through the dirt to miss the cross. Luckily the keeper wasn’t watching. The ball bounced off his nose, into Laan’s crotch, and the big man’s tallywhacker, semi aroused from close proximity to the ‘nice smelling’ keeper, propelled the ball into the bottom right corner. Get in, one nil to the Vale.
Minutes passed and Ringo wanted in on the action. The centre forward was eager to shed his self inflicted ‘AstroSpod’ title by cramming home a goal today and it showed in his game. To say he was all over the pitch might be an exaggeration, but he was certainly putting the willies up the Nest’s defence, he was sticking it about all over the place, making a real nuisance of himself, not least with an edge of the box scorcher striking the post on 10 minutes.
The match continued with the lads on top until a rare mistake let the Nest back into the match. Chuff made himself a little room, walking past two defenders, whipped out his wand to bewitch the ball, but lo did realise his wand was in fact a mint matchmaker, switched at the family get-together the night before by his cheeky younger brother. The resultant shot caused the corner flag to explode, but the Nest keeper booted the ball back down the pitch and the Vale felt themselves on the end of an attack. Lucky for the Vale, The Difference stood in harm’s way and the ricochet was cleared off the line by Pete Pickled Pecker Brothwell.
Back on top though, the Vale went on to make some chances, with Ringo and Laan smacking the ball down the keeper’s throat, and Dannyboy narrowly missing the left hand post with a badly shinned strike. The crowd started to get involved and Brothwell Sr Sr administered a rare compliment to The Cat claiming “I haven’t seen Andy come off his line that fast since the ice-cream van went past”. Camo Jr soon settled the team down with a superb demonstration of greed in the oppositions box to scuff the ball into the bottom left corner to make it two nil.
Half time came and went and the lads were back out. Virtually straight from kick off, The Cat got hold of the ball, belched, scratched his arse then launched it with all of his might. The ball bounced in front of Laan, over him, bounced again. The defender fell over, Laan fell over, Laan got back up again quickly then set off after the ball. Five yards later he punted it goalwards and straight into the keepers greedy mitts… but no he caught it then dropped that hot potato, what a dolly, straight into the net… three nil Vale.
On 55 minutes Camo had the ball at his feet, but not for long… a well timed tackle by the opposing centre half muscled him off the ball and he fell into the mud with a squelch. The Vale knew what was coming and they covered their ears. Dogs barked like crazy, windows shattered along with Camo Sr’s crystal brandy decanter as he took a swig. Blood was clearly oozing from the ref’s nose as he awarded the free kick to Camo. The spot kick was taken from the squeaky voiced one, naturally taking advantage of the disoriented Nest squad, and as the ball bounced slowly across the line, Dannyboy Brothwell Sr was there to snatch the glory with a cheeky slide in, superb, four nil.
Seventy minutes of the match had passed and Ringo was clearly ready for his moment. A bit of tussling by Shanks on for Sicknote Camo minutes before, spilled a loose ball to Danny, who stroked it left to Ringo. He controlled it, looked up, looked around with a huge grin on his face and lofted the ball forward, pointing the shot top right hand corner. The ball sailed, time slowed, the heavens yawned, and the ball sailed into the top left. A bright beam glared from his face and a mighty rip in the space time continuum opened around Ryan’s face as his smile took over the world. It was short lived as Sr Brothwell, seemingly galloping up for the congratulatory hug and grope, poleaxed the mesmerised Ryan. The ancient rite of Pile-on was called and man was he piled-on, with both Petes, Laaner, and half the Nest team welcoming Ryan into the scoring club.
The Cat was calling for a clean sheet but the words hadn’t left his lips when Pete Mophead showed a clear head by carrying out a perfectly legal tackle on the edge of the Vale box. The ball dribbled out to The Cat and inexperience was clear as the gloves dropped to the floor to scoop it up. The ref blew his whistle and promptly pointed to the spot… where the ball was kicked…. not where it had been picked up… what can I tell you? The Vale wall, nineteen strong with reinforcements plucked from the sidelines, stood a whole three yards from the kicker. Heads dropped as the ball was calmly swiped sideways to an unmarked man, who struck the ball low and neatly goalwards. Luckily The Cat saw it coming and saw the opportunity for a bit of goalkeeping showboat. The ball was stopped with his left testicle, chipped up and keepied-up for fifteen with a combination of veg, veg, meat, veg, meat, then calmly cleared with a rather swollen boil on his inner thigh.
Dan keen not to get through a game without conceding a penalty… erm.. conceded a penalty. The Cat wasn’t napping however as left he dove, and the ball went left… very left and into class 4B of Burlish Primary School.
4 minutes to go… surely they had kept that clean sheet now. Five nil was a good score wasn’t it? Not for Ryan it wasn’t. Again a big boot out by the Vale stalwart The Cat saw a Nest defender walk it out of their box, straight into the Ringonator. The leg swung back, muscles tensed and gleaming in the midmorning sun, then forwards, slowly at first then gathering speed until crack into the ball. The defender could only watch gobsmacked as the ball sailed over his head, past his stranded keeper and into the back of the net… closely followed by a chunk of his calf. Six nil to the mighty Vale. The crowd couldn’t believe their eyes as ticker tape rained from the sky as the ref blew the final whistle. What a spectacle, what a match… what an end? (Goosebumps…)
Yours The Nibbler.
