The Ginger Diver

In typical stallions fashion 3 people at the ground with only 20 minutes til kick off assessed the turf as soft.  Gradually trickling in the boys looked amped (at  1 mW – roughly the power of a small hearing aid) and ready for the game.

With pony geared up with a lovely offwhite, freedom fighter graced sweatband and matching arm band, Panda finally abandoning the mystery van’s heater, we took the field. What a motley looking crew indeed. A few blasts over the post, while the central midfield practised their pinpoint passing and suddenly Fidel had blown the whistle much to both his, and our, surprise.

Justin Bieber and his BFF made a slick passing move straight through the advancing midfielders, with aplomb. A sign of things to come, it came to nothing – mopped up easily with excellent positional play, great communication and a gargantuan game by the back line.

Although slick passing the norm, fortunately for the stallions, their final pass was absent to say the least. A few shots from outside the box either went well over the top, were deflected by defenders, or in the case of Paul ‘the cat’ Kilford saved brilliantly.

A good ole fashioned tug o war ensued with pressing runs going in both directions.  Until Tangihaere let Beiber go around him, only the once and for half a step further bringing him down with a delicate sledge hammer swing around the ankles. Penalty Miramar. 1-0.

Heads not down at all, the stallions were able to answer almost straight away, Rauru opened up his account early with a well finished goal, followed by another, then some other blokes scored, before Rauru  was able to get both the hat trick and his fourth goal.

Unfortunately for this writer, with so many goals coming from Rauru’s boot, (and god forbid, his head) they have all become a blur. Not mention the concussion received when this writer was viciously shoulder charged by a 6foot 3(around the middle) angry Irishman, who moments before had stopped Lloyds’s  second attempt this year to set a record 810° turn, with a wildly inaccurate swinging arm.

Booked for the first and second infringement, he was asked to leave the field. This started a tirade of misdirected childlike insults regarding the colour of a certain attacking midfielder’s hair (yes I do have red hair, thanks for noticing, but I can dye it – you, me old china plate, will always be a tosser), and his sexual orientation (there was a fair amount of crying in the loo this week over that one). Insults, seemingly having no effect, meant the tackles became harder and more illegal (Bieber and his BFF were seen holding hands discussing the best way to take out old ginge) in complete disrespect for the game.  

Nonetheless there were hand shakes after the game and promises to ‘get me’ never materialised, though I bet Miramar will be looking forward to the return fixture with relish.

Never let the truth (or details) get in the way of a story I say. 

For posterity you may comment on what actually happened. (Goals only - the sending off occurred exactly as written here, apart from some theatrics that had no impact on the sending off whatsoever -he really hurt my head, and the so-called smile was a grimmace)