So here's the poop. We had 18 subs and they had a gaggle of players so we were evenly matched on numbers. Captain Flicky organized and motivated with the flair of Mourinho and the drive of Klopp but something went awry. Doug Vee is doing some forensic work on what he feels may be Captain F's defective white board. To the match ... the numbers tell the story ... we had 105% possession, hit the post 21 times and the bar 32 times. We had 82 corners and they had one. They only got into our half thrice although on two of these forays they scored ... and when I say scored, I mean that we gave them two goals. I could go into exhaustive detail about the match but I only write flowing prose when we win. Dimos scored our only goal by weaving around the keeper and slotting home comfortably. We played some decent football but the melon just would not go in the old onion bag ... I'm just spit balling here but it could be that fruit and vegetables just don't mix.
Moving on ... here's the thing .... Paschal the international man of mystery once again proved that he is an enigma of a puzzle of a mystery wrapped up in a conundrum. We played pickup on Wednesday as usual and adjourned to the rubber for sherberts. Paschal was the last to leave at around midnight and then the trail went cold. Paschal literally disappeared. I know what you are thinking ... a nocturnal shag fest with a goat ... you might be right but the truth is that nobody knows what happened ... more to come? Perhaps or perhaps not ... the urban legend that is Paschal lives on and he's keeping his own counsel.
Back to the footy ... NS Internationals gave Stoneham a tonking and Crappoli tied Nashua. The table looks decidedly upside down right now but it's early days and our trip to Crappoli this week should put the cat among the pigeons or my name's not Arthur Pewty.
Arthur Pewty (not).
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