Nick Wall's Match Report
Jakkals trou met wolf se vrou (Fox is marrying wolf’s wife).
Saturday started, as usual, with me waking up absolutely devastated that I hadn't been horribly hacked to death by an intruder in my sleep. Dusting off that familiar disappointment I immediately started to ponder the style of my inevitable match report this week. Ultimately I decided to go with a different theme to mix it up: my miserable life.
This week saw some long curses being broken with the Chicago Cubs winning the World Series for the first time in 108 years and Ireland beating the All Blacks for the first time in 111 years. In a foolish way I thought this may finally be the week that I could break some of my own curses:
- feeling the warm embrace of someone who cares for me
- making my parents feel happy they had me
- or maybe even doing a goal in the hockeyness.
As usual, I was wrong.
We turned up to the Sils with a huge sense of optimism after limiting Chesterfield to less than 14 goals last week - something every other team who has played them so far has managed to do as well.
I went into the physio room and unfortunately witnessed Tom Starkey getting an upper thigh rub down, sporting a semi and giggling like a little girl. I left before the happy ending.
I was equally repulsed when Luke Kent entered the changing room wearing what can only be described as children's curtains wrapped around his legs. The Daffy Duck theme making him look like a Daffy *snowman*.
Ali Raza turned up in the changing room in the middle of Boston's 'More Than a Feeling' guitar solo... a coincidence? Unlikely - he later confessed it is his favourite rock ballad from the 70s.
He kindly walked us through the press again (always the best part of any Saturday) but without the use of red or blue magnetic counters it was clear that Luke Kent and George Bayliss had no idea what was happening.
The warm-up was brisk and highly intensive. That is until Andre Tchakhotine spent 5 minutes telling us how we had wasted 3 minutes of warm-up time when the umpires had told us we only had 2 minutes until push back... something didn't add up. Maths.
Ali Raza continued to amaze us with his game day apparel. The one day he actually needed sunglasses he failed to bring any, probably thinking being blinded by the sun would be better than witnessing another 13-0 hammering of kingdoms.
We started the game well and found ourselves 1-0 down inside 48 seconds... bloody Etienne Blatt coming over here and taking our clean sheets. Vote leave.
I looked over to the bench:
- Ali Raza was staring straight into the sun, wondering what he got himself into.
- George Bayliss was eating sand off the floor again.
Just like against Chesterfield we showed our team spirit and quickly reacted with an absolute 100% goal through a hard push from the top of the D. Tom Harrison quickly doubled his tally with another aggressive push a few minutes later.
After doing hockey for more hockey minutes we scored a third which was swiftly followed by a dab. I don't know who scored it but as I looked over I saw James Clapham dabbing, so I presume it was him. Congratulations James 'Dabmaster General' Clapham!
Unfortunately, right before half-time they did a goal. 3-2.
At half-time we discussed how it was very important to keep our discipline so naturally I looked for the first opportunity to cause trouble.
Matt Northcott fired the ball into their D, hitting a foot and winning a short corner... but I wasn't having it.
With the sound of the whistle ringing loud in my ears I carried on. This was my chance to show my 5* skills and I executed a fantastically dangerous and meaningless act which didn't go down well with our opponents.
Words were spat.
I was shoved.
My hairband was mocked. So ‘n bek moet jem kry... (amirite).
None of them called me fat though - missing the opportunity to cut straight to the dough filled insides of my flabby heart.
I wasn't having any of it. I shoved him back one handed with the strength of 1000 Matt Northcotts and somehow avoided a green card.
Anyway, the game carried on.
Tom Starkey aka OpticStarks (virgin), with his first touch heavier than the sense of loneliness I get when the sun sets, then set up Patrick O'Malley, who marauded forward from our D, to slot home a decedent goal.
Dr Andre Tchakhotine later added a fifth to seal the deal. Jy kan hom met ŉ blaas ertjies die skrik op die lyf jag (You can chase the fright on his body with a bladder of peas).
We did a winningness 5-2.
MOM: Tom Harrison
Reason: aggressive pushing that got goals done.
DOD: Nick Wall
Reason: ŉ Man van twaalf ambagte en dertien ongelukke (a man of twelve trades and thirteen accidents). Fat *unicorn*.