This was a brrr-illiant away victory for the ‘Chels, played in sub-arctic temperatures and on a pitch that looked as if it had been ploughed up for spuds. The poor old Popes started out well enough but faded so badly in the second half they were scarcely visible.
I knew it was going to be cold today because the smoothly shaven chest of El Tel was covered in goose-pimples even before he left the changing rooms. As for myself, kicking off the last vestiges of the Ebola virus that struck me down last week, I decided to wrap up warm and watch from the touchlines.
Last week, of course, I decided to wrap up warm and go back to bed, something which EP would never have forgiven me for had there been actually been a game last week. (Actually, you will never be forgiven. Period. EP)
As I told him on the phone, minutes before the game was rained off, if I only had one leg I’d still show up on Sunday morning, boss, you know me – but this tickly cough is proving too much to bear…
He took it in good heart and spent the rest of the day working out a cunning scam which involved the ‘Chels, reduced to ten men because of me, losing 14-1. This would probably have ended with a guilt-ridden Dot swinging from a rope under Blackfriars Bridge – fortunately, though, Stevie B brilliantly blew it with a masterful email that gave the game away. Not the first time he’s done that, I hear you murmur, arf arf!
Anyway back to this week’s thrilling encounter. We set the pace early on and made a few chances, the OtherJamie having an immediate impact. The Popes came forward well but seemed to flounder in front of goal – with our defence of Stevie B, Mike P and Tel soaking up the pressure nicely, with Newbs having an excellent game in his usual position just in front of them.
Imagine our surprise then when the Popes broke down the right, put a diagonal ball into the box which their forward took quite nicely on the half volley put them one up. They’d had one shot on goal and they’d scored.
Our equaliser came minutes before half-time, when Alex raced through one-on-one with the keeper, who fumbled it and gave Alex the second chance he needed. One-one.
The second half was a different game completely. EP made some incisive subsitutions, firstly pulling himself off (personally, I thought it was a bit cold for that), and bringing on the near-frozen Jake and Tommy T to replace himself and MKP.
Fairly soon we were running riot and the Popes crumbled. With the exception of a brief period of about ten minutes when they had us under a bit of pressure, it was all Chels, Chels, Chels. Craig had little to do except massage his chilblains.
Our second goal came just a minute or two in when one of their defenders, being closed on by Euan, managed to lob the ball over his own keeper. Two-one.
The third came from OtherJamie who snaked through the defence to end up one-on-one with the keeper, just lifting the ball over him in time. This was the killer goal and the Popes seemed to lose interest at this point.
The fourth was a cracking nice move that started – I think – out in the left back position, and culminated after a series of elegant passes with a superb Alex finish just inside the box. The coup de grace came from Tom B, following up a Jake strike.
So that’s the story. The Popes were sick at the result. But not as sick as I was last week, ho ho.
Regards to all
Dot Lazarus.
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