It's been a busy week at theBoroWalk towers. But thought it best to offload a cavalcade of verbal diarrhoea, just for the sake of our own sanity.
So spank my arse and call me Judy. Let's peddle back to 10 days ago and there we were traipsing the streets of Potters Bar, knowing full well that we'd just pissed our title hopes well and truly up the wall with another second half capitulation.
It had been an odd venture into Hertfordshire. We'd witnessed a fight at a service station, a guy fall off his moped & what can only be described as an 'albatross turd' obliterating the car windscreen with the moral abandon of a Donald Trump tweet. Maybe that should have given us some warning for how the afternoon was going to pan out. The Pakex stadium was neat and compact, much like many of the other places we've graced with our illustrious presence this season... lots of trees though. Always nice to see local residents able to gain "premium" seating just by taking a crap in their bathrooms too.
Curtis "Mayfield" Osano was back in the starting lineup after his cameo against AshFord Mustang. Eddie "Gillette" Smith was back from his ankle troubles so 'Boro's line up had a smidgen of an attacking vibe to it... nice. Ollie "hands" Treacher & Jack "Mischa" Barton would make way like a cheap chair collapsing under Steve Evans rotund buttocks. Also worth a mention that the number 11 shirt was absent... presumably it'd been out on the Jagerbombs in Camberley the prior night.
Boro were at it from the off and after a foul in the box, the glorious sound of the refs whistle instigated a Boro spot kick. Of course "Gillette" knows how to write a script, so he stepped up and smashed the pen deep into the Ravan Constable's ball bag. He 'beat' the keeper 1-0 (need to stop there or we'll get bogged down in police puns, don't panda to me).
Anyway, chances came and went until around 25mins when Nic "Clintons" Ciardini bent a free kick in towards Sam "Fogle" Pearce who got a bit Messi and flicked it into the path of Perry "The Hoffen" Coles to despatch like a UPS employee of the month. Not really surprising, the lad scores so frequently that his blood type is A-goal positive. 2-0
So there we were, cruising. Plus, we were stroking it around like John Terry at a player's wives night out. The start of the sowing of the seeds of doubt commenced when Gillette went down under the tackle of the fantastically named Willy Wambeek a few minutes before HT. Ankle grabbed and off he goes. Football can be a cruel mistress at times. Mischa Barton made his way on and the Boro coasted through to half time like a red funnel ferry.
Second half? Well, let it not be said that we don't acknowledge opponents efforts. The Bar came out and had a hypothetical outfit change Elton John would have been proud of. Heart, drive & commitment. They started winning the challenges that they were losing out on 1st half and, as with many Boro away days this season, you felt like an oppo goal could really land us in some bother. Boro, on the other hand went more backwards then a republican voter. Took less then 15 minutes...blah blah blah 2-1
The Bar took the game to us and were hitting on us like, well, like John Terry at a player's wives night out. John "tiny dancer" Oyenuga, "Mischa" Barton & "Fogle" all made huge last gasp clearances when goals looked on the cards. The Hoffen could have wrapped it up on a couple of occasions but was just not firing on top cylinders.
So roll on 90 mins and the hypothetical bright green 3 goes up. All Boro fans bums squeaking like a sooty show puppet factory. The ref allows the time to tick over and "hands" Treacher gets turned on the edge of the area, at the corner of the box, the attacker then has a touch of Torville and Dean's Bolero and goes for the perfect 10. Ref buys it hook, line and sinker and awards the spot kick for which "the Slayer" can do nothing to prevent the inevitable. 2-2 AHHHHHHHHHHHHH
To add salt to our gaping wounds, Royston potato chips have only gone and edged out Beaconsfield psychos 6-4... 6 BLOODY 4. What the fuck is that about?!?!
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and then... in midweek.....
KIDLINGTINGTONG 2-1 ROYSTON POTATO CHIPS
Soccer eh??
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RIGHT... Saturday. Time to stand up and be counted. After the euphoria of the Royston potato chips result, in midweek, it was time to rise from the shadows and start the crusades to exorcise the ghosts of Potters Bar.
Barton Rovers were the unwitting lambs to the slaughter. On paper, this looked trickier than to rock a rhyme that's right on time. "The mighty Rovers", yes that really is their nickname, were 4th placed and had lost fewer times then the Harlem Globetrotters lately. But stuff it, the San Cherrio was rife with burger hunters and euphoric optimism for some reason. There was something in the air.... and today it wasn't Nic "clintons" Ciardini's dodgy poundshop aftershave.
Team news? Nothing to report other than Eddie "Gillette" Smith shaking off his latest round of ankle trauma to take his place in the starting XI. We were all pleased the number 11 shirt was back in play, his absence had definitely been felt, guessing it was a rotator cuff injury.... No, you shut up!! On the bench, George "Weah" Jeacock was back.
The first couple of minutes was basically most of the Boro outfield getting really fucking shirty at Aaron "the slayer" Bufton for a couple of dodgy shanks. This climaxed in the Boro bench absolutely crucifying him for not picking up a ball which was clearly outside of his area. However, Buoyed by some old skool encouragement from Curtis "Mayfield" Osano & Keith "Reggie rat" Emmerson ("ignore them and play your own fucking game"), the Slayer launched a route-oner which ended up in the slip stream of Perry "the Hoffen" Coles who despatched a half volley of absolute filth into the keeper's NEAR side ballbag stick. My fucking god that lad has got more execution than death row.
1-0
Boro continued to grow into the game and were starting to show more application than a pimped up Samsung Galaxy, more Pace than a Jamaican sprinters convention and more conviction then operation YewTree.
A few more minutes rolled by and suddenly the BRovers defence decided to take another nap and John "tiny dancer" Oyenuga foxtrotted to the byline and cut back for "Gillette" to calmly sidefoot past the ballbag protector. 2-0
Boro continued to press like a room of journalists but couldn't add to their tally before HT was upon us. Special note for "Fogle's" monumental effort from just inside the Boro half which had the keeper scrambling like the world omlette championships. Foot lower or so and we were in viral youtube territory. HT 2-0
With the previous week's balls up still fresh in our minds, there was a tangible feeling of trepidation in the air as we grazed upon the second instalment of free food January. Special mention for the young lad in front of us who poured sugar all over his chips. Maybe there's a metaphor for the HT team talks there, but who knows.
It hadn't gone unnoticed in the first half that a few of the BRovers players appeared to be auditioning for extras roles in the sequel to the Football Factory. Unfortunately that would develop as the match went on.
The second half started and the good news was that we weren't sitting back, weren't standing off and weren't looking to shepherd out the 2-0. It was a different 2nd half Boro, which had brought out some work rate to show off to the baying hoards. They needed it to. BRovers were really starting to bring their partypiece as they fast realised they didn't have the skill or patience to unlock the Boro defense. That skill? Getting more physical then an Olivia Newton John Greatest Hits. "Fogle", "Mayfield", CJ all joining in with some absolutely exquisite examples of how to defend. "The Slayer" must have been purring in his ballbag.
"Fogle" went on a footy pub crawl and hit a couple of Bars. His last San Cherrio game before he departs for pastures new??
As BRovers couldn't get anywhere near the Boro box, their physicality poured into the midfield and one border line assault left our heroic captain flattened and in need of the stretcher. Very very lucky to escape a red card from where we were. Perhaps the ref applying subconscious caution due to the fact he knew the result was only going one way.
By the time their number 4 got right up in the linesman's face and was subbed for being a complete bellend, Boro had just about had enough of toying with their opponents like an Ann Summers party rep. "Clintons" took the ball on a mazey run across the outside of the BRovers area and smashed a left foot drive into the ballbag which nearly ripped the net off the stanchion, in a similar manner to him donning the 11 shirt at Potters Bar. 3-0
What's that sound?? It's the sound of Sam "Ali" Shaban twitching on the bench. He smells goals that boy and knew there was more to be had. So when the "Gillette" show was cut short, on came "Ali" to thunderous applause and within a minute he stamped his authority like a 1930's headteacher with a cane. A driven cross from "Reggie" on the left found substitute George "Weah" Jeacock's head and he calmly steered it back across goal for "Ali" to rise like a salmon and nod in the cherry(wood) on top... despite the best efforts of the neanderthal number 5 trying to bum him Gentle-y. 4-0
It almost felt like those hazy August days when we were steamrollering everybody in sight.... Credit where it's due... the formation looked as solid today as it's looked in ages. CLICK!
SOOOO.... the small matter of the almighty Royston now.
Look, we don't subscribe to this "massive underdogs" tag that our almighty leaders are peddling, because we don't think there's too much between us. Yes, Royston have had a phenomenal run and have pulled off some big results in the trophy. But these things happen and, when it comes down to it, it's 11 v 11. Our boys can mix it up with anyone in this league. We've got nothing to fear.
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