Fossils 1 - Bowdon Killer Bees 3

A bruising encounter (well, for some of us ) between the Killer Bees and our nearest rivals, the Friendly Vets, took place on a beautiful sunny Spring day, and turned out to be an absolute pleasure to play in.

As the 'away' side the Bees were always looking slightly vulnerable, and when "Hang 'em High" Gaunt used a little known legal precedent to switch the game from astro to grass, we knew the psychological warfare had begun... Undaunted (or should that be 'ungaunted'? Erm... never mind) the Bees formed up on the exhibition pitch, which was in superb condition having just been watered the old-fashioned way (rain), to face the experienced ranks of the Vets. Despite some extremely unsporting references to the age of the opposition by the skipper (the suggestion was made that they might be able to tell us how the dinosaurs died out...) the game started in a most professional manner, with the Bees passing the ball slickly from player to player and building up a foundation upon which to launch a series of raids on the Vets circle.

The pre-match strategy had been to exploit the weakness of the opposition keeper, Ronnie, who has played several games for the Bees this season, thus giving us an insight into his technique. Alas, it was pointed out that his main weakness had normally been our defence. Arse. Plan B was to use our pace, so a Plan C was quickly formulated.

While the Bees had 60% of the play, the Vets demonstrated a canny ability to break (must be the brittle bones!) and gave our defence some serious trouble on more than one occassion in the first half. However, some nifty footwork by Bees keeper Richard Higham ensured a clean sheet was maintained, and a policy of leathering the ball to the awaiting Bee's midfield proved quite successful. (This also minimised the prospect of being tackled by one of the Vets (yes you, Blackwell!), who were demonstrating their intimate knowledge of the game by performing a series of light hearted, but effective, professional fouls ). Although sorely lacking the prescence of Swarbrick in the midfield (yeah, right!) the Bees managed to use both wings effectively, and if you think that sounds unlikely, just wait 'til I tell you this; Giles scored!...

The halftime team talk was, as ever, inspirational, covering as it did a solution for the troubles in Northern Ireland, world poverty and how to get Bill Ball to drink out of a bottle. Traditionally the Bees instantly forget what they have just been told as soon as the whistle blows to start the second half, and so it proved once again, with yet another piece of priceless information for humanity being consigned to oblivion.

With the sun beating down we started to see players paying the price for a series of lightening fast attacks in the previous half. Legs went, faces reddened - suddenly it seemed harder to breathe! Was this it? Had the team of octogenarians finally had enough? Well, not as such. This was, in fact. the Killer Bees, who had peaked, burnt out, or whatever it is that top class athletes do, and boy was it showing... The skipper, suffering the affects of a schoolboy error the previous night , substituted himself off in order to gain a better strategic view of the game from off the pitch/in the bar. Dave Taylor took the opportunity to score. The Vets counter attcked and only the stalwart defence of "Stabber" Braithwaite & "Highlights" Tennant kept them from scoring. Seeing the team in dire straights the obvious thing for the skipper to do was to bring himself back on and save the day. What this actually achieved was to prove to everybody once & for all that he cannot keep up with 'Crazy Legs' Gaunt, who launched a penetrating attack which finally pierced the Bees defence & gave the Vets a well earned goal.

To morale boosting (but unjustified) cries of "It was all the keeper's fault! He's shit!" from the skipper, the Bees swarmed forward. In a bizarre combination of luck, misjudgement and basic not-getting-out-of-the-way-in-time playmaking, Stuart "I'm just a poor student" Buckeridge got the final goal for the Bees and put the game beyond doubt. Ten minutes later the final whistle went and a relieved Bees team stumbled towards the bar, wondering just what the hell the Vets were on, and how much it is per gram.

A fab game of hockey, enjoyed by all.

Quiffster