So James assured me he’d turn up. Luckily we had enough for 4-a-side but he didn’t know that. So using my imaginative writing skills I will sully his name in punishment…..let this be a warning to the rest of you.
Take your mind to a dark place. No, darker than that.
In the absence of windows a low wattage bulb hanging from an old wooden beam provides just enough light to reveal the damp brick walls of the cellar and the unfolding scene……
An old kitchen table stands in the middle of the room. The rest of the space is bare except against the walls are a number of chairs, some occupied, some not. They sit in the shadows, a few hunched forward with hooded eyes staring. Indiscernible old men, some with a cigarette in one hand and the wisps of smoke gently rising in the gloom. Watching, always watching. A sparkle sometimes reflects off a gold tooth exposed by a sinister grin.
The rope is tied around his wrists, knotted to the table legs, biting into his skin and keeping him bound face down upon the table which moves backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, creaking rhythmically. He had intended to leave for football two hours ago, he really had – the Liverpool top he was still wearing was proof of this. Some of them liked that but there were a few Everton supporters in the queue; the increased tempo and ferocity meant he could tell who they were even without being able to turn around to see.
A large trickle of spit runs down to the underside of the snooker ball strapped firmly in his mouth keeping him from screaming out. The screaming wasn’t for trying to attract attention of someone who would hear him, nor for the pain. No, there was no pain, just pleasure. You could tell (if you’d been in the room) by the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. The saliva stretched from the underside of ball and dripped to the pool on the floor below and as he fought for breath, a bubble of snot burst out of his nostril. James liked the Everton fans the most.
Anyway….
Yellow (4): Oz, John, Ed, Jim M
Red (4): Steve, Daniel, Richard P, Jeremy
Welcome back Steve and thank you for bringing a friend. We split the teams on who’d turn up in Red clothes and those who hadn’t. Sunny & warm with cut grass.
Tit-for-tat initially. Yellow drew blood first but Red soon equalised, and soon scored again only for Yellow pull them back. Red then slowly increased their lead to 6-3 up at half time. It could have been worse but Jim M made some great saves. The best goal was an Arsenal-esque one touch masterclass ding dong ding dong ding dong up through the field between Jeremy and Richard P (I think, though it could have been Steve but it definitely wasn’t me) culminating with the ball in the net, tasty. Also tasty was Daniel being described as Dennis Bergkamp! A pass up through midfield arrived with two defenders just behind and either side of him. With his back to goal and deft touch to the right he nutmegged the defender while spinning on the spot and fired low into the far corner. Hmmmmm
Yellow came out with a little more oompf because they talked about football at half time (Red discussed the merits of AV) and they slowly but deservedly clawed their way back to 7-7. Steve always brings some pinpoint passing with him and John on the other team was much the same. Oz popped off some shots, blocked by opponents and teammates alike and Ed provided the speed down the wings. In the final 5 minutes, when it could have been anyone’s for the taking, Richard P (inspired by a fan base who made more noise than a Justin Bieber crowd) popped in the killer blow – the valiant fightback wasn’t to be.
Final Score: Red 8 – 7 Yellow