On the back of their first 3 points of the season, the Mexocoans were sent out with the words of their manager still ringing “remember how shit we all were against FC Martyrs”. Messrs Moyes, Ferguson, and Dalglish need not be worried.
The first half began quickly for one Paddy Davis - Mexoc’s long haired left back from London - with a beautifully deflected shot into his own net, followed by his cracking set piece delivery which was met with the minimal force of Devine’s little toe.
The home team weren’t happy just to equalise though, and when L8’s left back aka Moses aka Energy opened his defence like the Red Sea the gap was found accurately by Devine for Shaun to run onto without breaking his step, the through ball received the finish it deserved.
L8 then equalised from a mistake at the back from Johnson’s attempted sweep which left Ragi Omar with the ball at his feet, all he had to do was find the net. Despite the further setback, the home team continued to push for a further goal, if the author had been paying attention he’d have known who scored, how and when. The only incidents to really stick in the mind were Williams’ pass back to Davis which gave him plenty to do, and the two crosses from Devine onto the heads of Faulkner and Roberts, both crosses given finishes that mirrored the L8 central midfielder ... wide.
The half time team talk was also inspired “remember how shit we all were in the second half against Rockville”. Need I say more. Further goals were gained by Mexoc (I really need to pay more attention to what happens up front). I do remember the back heel from Hudson to Faulkner for the final goal – pure class.
Then it happened. THE talking point of the whole game. It was like a scene from Hong Kong Phooey, Crouching Tiger, and every Bruce Lee film there has ever been all rolled into one. Rich Reynolds, rising like Neo in the Matrix, scissor kicked an innocent L8 midfielder full in the chest. It was fortunate the recipient only had to put a couple of his internal organs back in (spleen and liver). There was still time for Williams to pop up with a shot worthy of the man of the match vote however, and it could only be compared to the manager’s range with his loaded weapon outside the pub – limp.
John Devine
