Death or Glory

Part 1

Scroll scroll. Wet poo. Scroll. Are the boys changed yet? Andy’s had a hair cut. Scroll scroll. Contacts in. Trunks on. Second wee in 5 minutes. Something is up. Jesus they’re keen warming up on time. I wonder if it will help them in the game. Try hards. F-me Whitgift poolside is slippy. Must be the algae growing on the tiles. Everyone feeling slightly run down and poorly? Yes. Good good.

Cut to a few hours earlier.

Rio Ferdinand is on the tv. Clicking his fingers rhythmically. Click. Pause. Click. Pause. Click. Pause. Click.

Rio “Every time I click my fingers, a northern ejit does something crap.”

Pause. Click.

Paul Gascgoine comes into frame.

Pause. Click.

Gazza has a crazed look in his eye, “Something has to stop. He keeps chucking it over the bar when an easy one step pass would do - he thinks he can see shots and passes which clearly aren’t on.”

Pause Click.

Rio, “Join us today in our campaign to stop the madness. No-one deserves to lose this way. Call in now and donate £5 to our appeal. This ends here”

Gazza, “I’ve got my fishing rod and a bucket of fried chicken. I’ll talk him down. Don’t you worry pet.”

Part 2

855pm . Q1.

Swim off. George loses. At least we don’t need to swim a whole length. Click. They score two good goals both from short swims where we found ourselves the wrong side. Click. One a pen, the other from a drive. We get one back through Dario. Click. They score three more goals all from short counter attacks. Click.

1-5 down first quarter.

915. Q2

Excellent pit work from Oggy, Finch and Gio bringing us back into the game. Click. Defence is pushing out and we’re starting to find some shape. Click. Click.

4-8

930. Q3

George wins the swim off after the change ends. Maybe the refs should have put in the cone for half way?

We’re starting to play well here. The clicking stops. Goals from Dario off the wing, Finch scoring a well worked arc goal with great movement, Shute counter attacking lob, Rob 1:1 goal, and George scoring a drive. We’re dominant. They score two shitty goals from long range.

Gazza appears in a dream. “F-me, we’ve done it. The clicking has stopped.”

Our defence is on top. We’re on our way to win.

9-10

950. Q4

Dickinson finally scores a long ranger. 10-10. It’s on. The fightback from 2-7 is on. Bang. Shute with a trademark waggle waggle hammer. 11-10. We’re going to do it. Oh Jesus Orca 7 and 10 are back trying again. They pinch two goals. We’re down again. Oh wait. Matt Finch scores another beauty. We’re drawing 12-12. Probably a fair result. Good tackle there by Dickinson. 15 seconds to go. Let’s not let them have a shooting chance. Lets score on the buzzer.

Gazza and Rio’s ghost appear on half way.

In unison, “Dario and Finch have made an amazing swim there Rob. Don’t not give them the ball after all that effort. Why don’t you chuck it to them, they score, we win. Let’s not wait till it is too late for them to score. Death. Or. Glory.”

Click. Screams of No Rob howl out.

Orca’s keeper has the ball with 10 seconds to go.

Whistle.

Pen Blue.

Orca win the Arctic Whale Derby.

Pub time.

Sour pint. No crisps.

Home.

MoM: Finch or Gio or Zacha

Moment: Rob 1:1

Fluff: Rob

Forza Narvali