Knobs 5 Old Pretenders 2

No snow, a welcoming change - yer soft southern ninnies, yi divvint caal what we've had snae di yi ?
A spare sort of team, Kevin didn't show for his season's debut but fortunately Phil made a comeback, at least fortunate for those who didn't mind his abrasive, chiselled 'encouragements' (the new Big Bob anybody?).
A goal down on a bouncy pitch with a new ball saw us struggle for cohesion. Too many attempts at playing pure football, one touch instead of controlling the ball and passing- a little slower perhaps but more certain. That fucker up front played like Johnny Haynes at 100 not £100 quid a week that is. Look up yer history books.
Gavin made several incisive runs in the first half before being upended for a penalty which Steve slotted with aplomb. 1-1. Steve then shot a ball up a tree but divvint worry they sent a dwarf orang utan up to retrieve it at half time. Well twas a new ball!
A Steve miscue fell a- wanting before asaid mentioned orang utan, ancient and grizzled, smacked in the rebound to give us a 2-1 lead.
Second half saw many more raids from a fleetfooted but coffeeless Gavin before one of his cutbacks from the by line was smashed helplessly home by their centreback, a man who wasn't so hapless later when flattening Matt as he rampaged goalwards. Freekick came to naught.
They scored again before a busy Ron ran in front of a Matty shot to divert it succinctly behind the line for 3-1. The og became the 4th. Two goals and a woz on a hattrick. Unfortunately Mark wasn't up to doing a spot of reffing to give Bill a run so yours truly had to sacrafice the opportunity of sextuaganarian glory and take over reffing himself. Thank you Mark I come from a long line of elephants! A goal for Matt was disallowed when I felt he was offside and took pity on a forest of opposition hands so claiming. Not in the mood for an argument on such a bounteous day the goal was disallowed and only Matt's ire had to be faced. The fifth goal was a pretty little move when Matt slotted a ball to Bill who finished with firmness, coolness and precision.
Roy fouled, Dave asthmaaaaaed, Brendan ran without caution and all was well in the world. Their man John played his final game at 60, didn't he look old- fucking hell what does this mean?
Someone stole the corner flags so a new monitor is required if they ever reappear.
We adjourned to the Fox and Malcolm's hospitality where even JB drank proper beer. A good turnout capped by suasages, onions and bread which was as welcome as it was unexpected. It almost felt like a pub, in fact it was!
Me back hurts, where was Kevin, and next week it's a tough game v Walkern at home, 1-1 results on the season, next game the winner.

Almost but not quite.