Nannas 5 plays Pornstars 7
CB, DC, CG, JH, RH, TH (2), AW, TW (2)
Well, here I was, standing on the sideline watching as the game started against the same team we had played only two weeks before. They beat us 13 to 5 last time. One side of me (let’s call him Nice Jim) was hopeful, thinking, well maybe with an almost full bench of subs, and with Gill, Cocky, Chas and Tao back in the fold we could make an imprint on these bastards, maybe we could even go one better and take the little shits down a peg.
But then my other side (let’s call this one Cooker Jim) was all like, Jesus, what if we do beat them, what would it look like having lost to them one week by a margin of eight goals and then the next week coming back and winning. For a start all my plans of restructuring the team would go astray. I would also have to put up with Cocky telling me how like Arsenal it was, you know, like the time little Cesc was out injured for most of the season, resulting in a slide down the Premiership ladder, only for him to come back and the Gunners to find some form again. I hate Arsenal. Or Tao, who I sent a text message to, after our loss last time, saying, in jest, that it was his absence that was the cause of us losing by so great a margin the week before. Or Chas, who I would have to sit down and, with our eyes locked in a deep and intense gaze, apologise for our previous dismal display.
It seemed like my text message to Tao was a good omen for he started with an early goal. Nice Jim was all happy, pushing Cooker to the side of my brain for a minute, as the thrill of being in front consumed me, forcing me to yell and scream encouragement to Tao, telling him how good he was (it’s true!)
I then came on and of course Nicey and Cooker had to take a back seat, for there are no sides, no prejudices, no hesitancy when a Nanna takes the field. A Nanna is brave and true and fights for all he is worth, to death, for, as all Nannas know, we dishonour never, ever our grandmothers or any female who we may be distantly related to.
Soon after Tao scored again and Nicey was riding pretty high but Cooker was all like, man, just settle a bit, it’s so early in the match and shit, these guys can play. But even so Nicey had it that the one chink in our opponents armour, their shit defence, was being exposed. And so it went. From two corners, Tommy stood statuesque in front of their goals waiting for a cross, which came, and which he cooly put away. I say statuesque because there he was, stationary, with literally metres of space around him. Nicey took infinite satisfaction from this seeming over-confidence from our opponents, like they thought they were so good they didn’t need to mark us or anything. What’s more Gilla denied the opposition’s best player from what seemed a certain goal, pulling off what some would later say was the save of the whole ten years the Nannas had been playing. Could it really be true that we were beating these guys, giving them a right royal old taste of their own medicine?
I think it was four zip at this stage and old Cooker definitely couldn’t believe it, walking around muttering to himself. But then our opponents, or shall I say, one player from the opposition started to gather steam, running around us like we weren’t there. And then the inevitable happened. He scored. Even though he was on the sideline and even though there was a Nanna shadowing him, he was able to produce a stinging shot that hit the far top corner of goal. Even Gill could do nothing. We got another goal somewhere, somehow, I do not remember who it was. Five to one. And that was the way it stayed until half time.
After the interval, there was something of a change in the complexion of the match. The Nanna scoring dried up, even though we had our chances, but the opposition seemed to find not just more ball but more space with the ball. Again their whippet-like star player led the charge with many a run starting deep in his own half and finishing somewhere deep in ours.
The following are the crucial moments of that second half that decided it.
One, Tao missing a sitter in front of goal. The pass came quick, it wasn’t as well directed as it could have been, being ever so slightly behind him, but with an open goal beckoning, he stabbed at it, trying to hit it too hard, and he missed the ball entirely. As Nicey noted, the omens had changed.
Two, their whippet like star player ran past a couple of Nannas down the right. He was pushed into the far corner where he delivered a blistering cross. I was on the back post marking one of their players, and as the cross came in I reacted. Instead of stopping the ball getting to the player I was marking behind all I did was direct it into my own goal. A very low point.
Three, a foul on the edge of our box resulted in a penalty. Even though we managed to get their littlest (metaphorically speaking), most punk-arsed played sent off (a triumph for the Nannas), from the resulting free-kick the ball squeezed in between both Cocky and my legs and through for a goal.
Four, with a couple of minutes to go with the scores locked, Tommy had a chance to get our noses in front. He lobbed it over the keeper and it looked like it would go in. But it hit the crossbar and came back out again.
And how were Nicey and Cooker feeling?
Well, as you can imagine Nicey was crying. He tends to do that. Old Cooks was truly bummed too, for even he, self-interested and crazy as he is, hates it when the Nannas lose.
After though, both did laugh hysterically when the MOM was announced.
