Offord, Elliot and SP all vying for the rights to lead the prestigious warm up, there was one winner, and Scott vowed to drop 6 players to the subs bench of 4. The game started in a strong fashion for PHC who asserted their dominance quickly, running riot with the attacking flair of Chee, Ramon and the 3’s debutants Ben Bell and Dave Q. After a quick 10 minutes Ben Bell threaded a ball to a waiting Ramon. Taking time out of his busy life of flirting over snapchat and wanting to eat waffles, he, as always, was waiting at the back to fire one into an open goal.
The next thing we saw was a short against the rock hard defence of Weibe, Paul Caine, SP, Sturdy and Wiley. In something since we hadn’t seen since Tim Krul coming off the bench to send the Netherlands to a World Cup semi-final, Weibe picked a ball that had all but beaten Allwood around the post. It was glorious, people clapped, people cheered and people cried. However soon not even the furious work that AJ and Elliot were putting in the centre of the park, the ball was slipped through to a Wayfarers forward who decided to take a touch reminiscent of Lionel Messi’s footwork, nudging it away from the defenders stick with a world class set of feet, they drew level. After a couple of minutes of political outcry, reminiscent of the popularity that Donald Trump holds by anyone with a brain, the umpires gave the goal.
Outraged PHC pushed on, raining the fury of the gods down on the Wayfarers D, Billy and Binks were providing balls for Offord and Quaile to strike. The glory of scoring a reverse goal was calling, Offord did not comply. Dave was also putting his body on the line for the team, however it was not to be and soon Wayfarers won the momentum. In a dazzling display of strength Paul Caine battled through some vicious stick tackles, only to be tripped by the third stick tackle in a spate of 2 seconds, finally going down in a scene reminiscent of Mufasa’s last stand he nudged the ball with his foot. Result P corner and another Wayfarers goal. Soon the game restarted with PHC looking like a group of baffled Karl Pilkingtons, trying to understand the meaning of life.
Further chances were squandered in the dying minutes by PHC to regain a goal and push the game into a draw. However it was not to be, the fates had decided the third elevens fate and it was not the result they were looking for. They retreated to the pub, attempting to drown their sorrows in the bottom of a potent cider. Soon it was decided, Wiley was our Starboy, whilst Offord was the False Alarm of the 3’s, with all the spooning he had done recently, he managed to keep spooning it away from goal.
MOM: Wiley – Solid defending
DOD: Charles, terrible reverse and brining his GF