It was a game of two halves. My the other side looked big and butch. And we could have been 6-0 up by half time. I was one of the miscreants missing a header that by rights I should have put in the net.
On the upside...for there must always be an upside....I set up the first goal or was it the second? Whichever it was what really counts is the beauty of the pass. A thing of such rare beauty from my right boot that I was deeply pleased that it was dispatched into the goal for that was the finish worthy of the pass.
Strangely enough the opposition were a lot better in the second half when they got rid of their player who was able to go past three or four people. Very annoying playing against someone who you can't actually tackle so skilful are they.
When he went off they were a lot better. As if they were relying on him to do the damage.
It reminded me a bit of playing football at primary school. We had someone who was so good that he never got tackled to the point where it wasn't fair. Chris Hardy was his name and he lived with his mum in Dahomey Rd. A feral boy was he and I wonder what became of him.
Anyway we won 4-2 and it was a bit hands to the decks in the second half. It wasn't pretty but that was probably because we lost one of our ball holders to a thigh strain and I sacrificed my attacking tendencies to man the pumps in defence.
Work seemed quite ordinary after all that. But it was action packed with the world cup qualifiers. England managed to get past Kazakhstan and Franc danced with defeat but came from 2-0 down to draw in Roumainia.
It is not over until the final whistle.
Oh how I love a cliche.