So after the big pile of excrement that was the home spanking we received last Saturday (see our review in the previous post) we couldn't possibly stoop any Marlow-er as we took the short trip to our North East Hants neighbours, Fleet Town.
It was pretty knicky knacky noos at Calthorpe Park but the 4-3 reverse fixture was warming the cockles as we approached the ground, especially as recent signing Pat "Mixu" Cox was making a rapid return to his former stamping ground after starting for the first time in the 3-0 rodgering at the weekend. Hattrick hero Jamie "Curo" Cureton on that Bank Holiday Monday in August has gone, come back for a game, scored, and buggered off again in the meantime, and since then our esteemed leader SD has been trying to lure The Butcher down the road to San Cheerio with no luck, until the new man attempting to fill the massive shoes of Steve Cantle decided to suspend all pay and he hot footed it to the mighty yellows. All a bit contentious so we'll leave it there.
Caligula gave the big thumbs down to the first eleven and decided to obliterate the team and formation following the return of Scott "Castrol" Donnelly into the midfield "engine" room to give us a bit of "va va voom" and a real "drive" in the centre of the park. Bruum bruum.
In came Castrol for Gillette, meaning we'd only have two up top. Mischa made way for the third member of the triumvirate of new joiners, Jordan "GoalDen" Graham, and The Hoffen made way for The Fire Engine to partner Mixu. Tiny Dancer was drafted into left back as Reggie took a knock last time out and Pammy moved into centre half with Fogle taking his place in front of the back four.
Early signs were the changes were a God send and our full backs were pushing forward with menace, the midfield was as water tight as a mermaid's brazier and the forward line was keeping the ball up the slop.
Chances were a bit few and far between until "The Butcher" opened his account. And boy was it a popular scorer. There was always half a chance he'd be reserved as he nodded the opening goal in the 19th minute, but instead he went ape shit and ran into his adoring new fans. Clintons charged at the defence, cutting outside and laying it on a plate for someone to tap in but it avaded everyone. Fortunately, Castrol appeared on the right wing to knock in a wizard ball and Cox rose highest to head in. We'd taken a decent crowd the massive 5 miles down the Fleet Road and they made a bleedin din, completely drowning out the boo boys.
The tails were up, and we poured forwards time and time again, Tiny Dancer clearly benefiting from his rest and and recuperation from.... whatever the problem was, lead the charge. Driving down the wing, twisting and turning like a twisty turny thing, he could have created a hatful. As it happened when the second arrived it was from GoalDen's run at the Fleet back four and thunderous shot that hit a defender and turned into an up and under which was held up brilliantly by The Fire Engine, who laid the ball back for Fogle to swing in a beauty and Mixu rose like.... well... The Salmon, and planted a textbook header into the bottom corner. 2 fucking 0!
It was then that the foot was removed ever so slightly from the gas. Fleet started running at our defence and winning corners and freekicks and then we won a few goalkicks. Unfortunately it was from one of those corners that Fleet smashed a goal back into the onion bag. In the nicest possible way, as ever, some prick scored for them. There was just enough time before the half time whistle went for Clintons to force their bulging ball bag preventer to tip over a tasty dipper from left of the area.
Off we wandered round to the tea hut for an XXL brew straight from the pot. As brilliant a job the ladies and gents do in the FAST Food kitchen, they could learn something from the good people at Fleet.
The initial concern would be that we'd be facing a Fleet buoyed by the last gasp goal and come roaring out the traps like Lance Armstrong post injection. This didn't transpire immediately and it was end to end stuff.
If anything, we should have put ourselves out of sight. Firstly a goal mouth scramble saw their ball bag guardian pull off a worldy and the resultant melay was forced out for a corner. From the inswinger, The Salmon jumped really really high, and planted his header down and....somehow fucking wide.
Immediately, Fleet surged forward and a neat ball through saw their No.7 take round the Slayer but it took him to an acute angle and his effort hit the outside of the post and bounced in to Aaron's grateful arms.
Despite heading downhill in the second period the ball seemed stuck in our half and every clearance came straight back at us. Some tidy interplay from their midfield and wingers always came to nothing, as, unfortunately for them, they needed the prolific goalscorer they had last year to put the chances away. But we had him. And he'd already scored twice.
With bottoms squeakier than Orville with his bollocks in a vice, we crept over the line to three valuable points. A marked improvement on Saturday, but it couldn't have been worse.
Next is a trip to Kempston, whose early season form had seemed to have deserted them until last weeks win so their peckers will be up. We then travel again to Northwood for the third away game on the trot. Following that is the visit of not so much champions elect as nailed on got the trophy in their cabinet already Royston Potato Peelers.
If we're honest 7 points from these three would be a job well done.
Confidence restored, we go again.
COME ON YOU YELLOWS!!
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