28 January 2014


The magic of the cup, then - or, in our case, the miracle of a run not yet impeded by an impossible kick-off time at the behest of our broadcasting overlords.

The sky went black, hailstones hammered down and Brez was named in goal but, on paper, even on a pitch cutting up worse than Edward Scissorhands at a teenage emo papier-mâché club, we were favourites. Sure enough, Rohan Ince - who will surely be playing alone in midfield soon, purely to prove a point to the still-AWOL Bridders - put us ahead from what The Argus neatly called a “flag kick”.

The other two goals also came from flag kicks: they equalised just after the monsoon (the weather, not a ‎reference to Jon Obika being a damp squib with The Cyclone on the bench), and then Solly March scored from one of those overhit crosses you immediately claim as a curled stroke of genius on a Sunday league pitch once in a while.

Read the full article on the At The End Of The Day Des website HERE

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