Dog Turd Formations.
So it was the final hurrah in the competitive set of games. We needed a win to be in contention of the play off to get to the final (against South Shields).
So once the fight for the fat bastard shirts was over, the plan was all out attack, with 3-4-3 based on the players we had. Callum Robinson came in for this one after his start on Thursday’s game and Macca returned (and wished he hadn’t).
Opening half, we were a bit overrun, but the complaints were about the formation, which boiled my testicles, because if you’re a lazy cunt, it doesnt matter if you play 3-4-3, 4-4-2, 8-5-6 or any formation shaped like a dog turd, because it means you’ll still need to put a foot in.
Watching opponents dance around without even a sniff of a challenge meant we were 1-0 down. Harper then fired in a spectacular equaliser, but as always chances went missing. They went 2-1 up from a howler. Know it all, Gourlay shouted for me to pass back to the keeper who then proceeded to whack the ball, full flow, at me, only to see it rebound to their player and an empty net.
Then, before the end of the half, the insipid referee showed zero authority, by first not giving Gourlay a card for calling him “a knacker” at the start and then just listening to shouts for a penalty. With Pie Face giving his best Shilton impression by being too heavy to reach one side of the goal meant it was 3-1.
Half time is where the entertainment began. Gourlay took charge and despite telling me for years he hated playing left back; played left back. It appeared to work, as Harper banged one it at 3-2. Then Callum missed a sitter and it went to pot. All game we had really good chances, but having chances isn’t as effective as scoring goals. But for the whole team in general, the second half was probably worse than the first because they were genuinely dancing around us with no challenges and players raising arms shouting offside because they can’t be arsed to put a challenge in. No one did much, apart from possibly Callum and, dare I say it, Harper.
Not a good end, but at least it allows me to moan at the helmets and say 4, 5, fucking 1 and no offsides.
