Tuesday, August 23, 2005
From the green, grass of Spencer Park to the dirty, god-awful squalor of Osaka
Sunday turned up a bit of a goalfest in Real "Penguin" Osaka's game against the mighty bunch of Japanese lads to whom we dish out periodic beatings.
I wasn't feeling too flash prior to kick off, as I'd worked a full day's shift on the back of four hours' sleep, following a night at pocket park with the Vending Machine Man.
Roy: I've done... questionable things.
Tyrell: Also extraordinary things. Revel in your time.
I got more fun out of the team's Japanese striker, Issei. As mentioned in a previous post, I regularly give him lessons in how to offend and bemuse English-speaking persons. This time my target was good friend, mince Andy. I made Issei repeat his lines a couple of times to make sure he had them down pat, then unleashed him on the unsuspecting Andy.
Issei: Andy?
Andy: What's up, Issei?
Issei: No means no. Stop.
Andy: Eh?
I laughed and laughed- it didn't take the mince boy long to figure out the real culprit.
The match itself brought plenty of incident: a fair few goals, including one little honey from outside the area for me, a few near-death experiences on the goal line and a hell of a lot of rain.
The sad truth, however, is that the opposition squeezed 4-3 ahead with a few minutes remaining. This was particularly galling, as I'd pursued the attack from the halfway line and, after Tom the centre half trod in a puddle and did an impromptu back-flip, I managed to get goalside of the striker, only for his shot to go straight through my legs into the bottom corner of the goal.
Unable to contain myself at this vile mishap, I punched the ground in frustration, adding a row of bloody knuckles to my problems. D'oh!
This temperamental tomfoolery turned out to be unwarranted: with the seconds ticking away, I intercepted a pass on the halfway line, powered up the left, leaving opposition players floundering like fish in a net, before squaring the ball to the team's other Earlsdon representative, Leon. Defying all our expectations, the Kensington Road terrier hit a scoopy, loopy shot from the edge of the area, which arced tantalisingly over the keeper into the top corner of the goal to get us a draw.
Moral of this story: never give up? Nah. Patience is a virtue? Nah. Earlsdon footballers rock and the rest of the world can eat a dick?
Yeah, that should do it.
I wasn't feeling too flash prior to kick off, as I'd worked a full day's shift on the back of four hours' sleep, following a night at pocket park with the Vending Machine Man.
Roy: I've done... questionable things.
Tyrell: Also extraordinary things. Revel in your time.
I got more fun out of the team's Japanese striker, Issei. As mentioned in a previous post, I regularly give him lessons in how to offend and bemuse English-speaking persons. This time my target was good friend, mince Andy. I made Issei repeat his lines a couple of times to make sure he had them down pat, then unleashed him on the unsuspecting Andy.
Issei: Andy?
Andy: What's up, Issei?
Issei: No means no. Stop.
Andy: Eh?
I laughed and laughed- it didn't take the mince boy long to figure out the real culprit.
The match itself brought plenty of incident: a fair few goals, including one little honey from outside the area for me, a few near-death experiences on the goal line and a hell of a lot of rain.
The sad truth, however, is that the opposition squeezed 4-3 ahead with a few minutes remaining. This was particularly galling, as I'd pursued the attack from the halfway line and, after Tom the centre half trod in a puddle and did an impromptu back-flip, I managed to get goalside of the striker, only for his shot to go straight through my legs into the bottom corner of the goal.
Unable to contain myself at this vile mishap, I punched the ground in frustration, adding a row of bloody knuckles to my problems. D'oh!
This temperamental tomfoolery turned out to be unwarranted: with the seconds ticking away, I intercepted a pass on the halfway line, powered up the left, leaving opposition players floundering like fish in a net, before squaring the ball to the team's other Earlsdon representative, Leon. Defying all our expectations, the Kensington Road terrier hit a scoopy, loopy shot from the edge of the area, which arced tantalisingly over the keeper into the top corner of the goal to get us a draw.
Moral of this story: never give up? Nah. Patience is a virtue? Nah. Earlsdon footballers rock and the rest of the world can eat a dick?
Yeah, that should do it.
