Fleet Spurs Vets 2 – 1 AFC Laffans
In a game that was due to be the last of the season, a considerable turnout gave the selection panel some tough decisions. With a huge pool, an injured Holbrook stepped into the right back position, an exhausted Etherington was put at left wing with the Krankies, Racey and Lambo turning up late.
The selection of a new lad from the school of street soccer caught everyone by surprise. Standing 6ft3 and with a shock of silver hair the new false 9, Spavonista blessed the field up front for the first time this season. With Raceys eye for a pass, Dan’s ice like composure and the chirpy outlook of a Martin and Reg hybrid he prowled the front line probing for openings, like some stitched together ‘best of’.
Meanwhile, another unspoken genius drifted up and down the right wing like an apparition, leaving his marker confused. That level of confusion hasn’t been seen since Filks first took a shower at Fleet Spurs.
When Willy Wonka first gave out the golden tickets to Charlie Bucket and Augustus Allaway there was a third recipient. A young Dysandro was given the golden pass to become one of the most silky smooth chocolate wingers in the Aldershot League 2 bottom half of the table division.
He was banned from the division for being too delightful to watch with many grown men crying when they watched his turn of speed, balletically leaving the defenders for dead. In a tribute to days past his shackles were released and he was started on the wing. The defender was soon had ‘on toast’ as they say. Sobbing like Maicon against Bale the unfortunate Laffans left back was roasted time and again by the Double Decker of Delight before delivering a cross that would have made Pontius Pilate wince.
Matt ‘Mailman’ Coote delivered the package, rising like an ember driven by the heat of pure football he simply finished what Dysandro had started. 1-0.
1-0 it stayed until midway through the second half when having substituted the argumentative rock at the back, we decided that charity was the best form of flattery and let them bundle one in. They soon celebrated by kicking the ball away on their next attack and reduced their line up to 10.
Colin, like many other famous Colins (Powell, Baker, Dictionary) channeled his commanding presence and sent the entire defence up for a last gasp corner. Allaway put in an inswinger, under the cross bar. They cleared, there was a scramble. The ball bounced, Spavonista started to swing his leg.
The ball cannoned off a defender, the leg still gaining momentum reached 45 degrees. Three more ricochets and the leg, that fateful leg, reached head height. With a sound like cheese being pulled through a keyhole, Spavonista’s leg cranked another few degrees and
With a sound like cheese being pulled through a keyhole Spavonista’s leg cranked another few degrees and toe punted the ball from next to his own head, over his shoulder into the opposite top corner. Having started up front, he’d bossed the park, been subbed, come back on to ‘do a job’ at left back and scored the winner in what was a milestone in footballing lore. From rags to rags our Cinderella striker made his way back to left back to then seal a win in a game that meant nothing to anyone. With the league decided we will never know how things could have turned out if he’d scored earlier in the season, or indeed, not missed the 2 sitters earlier in the game.
2-1 Vets and the season ends on a high….but we might have one more game, so don’t go thinking that’s the last of the reports.
Fubar@Forty 