Match report: Sporting Apostrophes vs Real So So Bad
“Sporting Apostrophes remonstrate with referee Dizzy Gillespie after he fails to deliver penalties promised. Left to right: Hawkins, McInerney, Lissimore, Gillespie (referee), Stickland, Hinceman.”
Sunday’s encounter with Real So So Bad resulted in yet another defeat for the Super A’s, extending their humiliating winless streak to a total of eight matches.
“This season has been a total write-off,” complained chairman Ernest Borgnine, his despondency clear from his enthusiasm for extracurricular pursuits. “It must be the blue shirts: sure, they’re breathable, but as such they don’t retain the scent of onion, the very essence of Mother Nature’s goalscoring goodness.”
A unique septet of footballing genii, the Apostrophes, like the fabled seven brothers, sought seven virginal, onion brides, ripe for violation. With Tina Turner’s “Simply The Best” blaring from the stadium tannoy, they appeared from the tunnel to rapturous applause from the capacity crowd.
Apostolov and McInerney led the pack, eager to build on their recent goalscoring exploits. Stickland joined them, making his sixteenth appearance for the world famous club: an impressive figure given for a player that has quaffed just twice at the fountain of victory. Hinceman and Lissimore followed, a few inches taller, a few pounds lighter respectively. Fresh from Telford Central, new signing Bell came next, leaving sheathmaster Hawkins to complete the “Magnificent Seven”.
Sporting Apostrophes kicked off the first half in a confident, almost nonchalant fashion, the promise of two penalties from referee Dizzy Gillespie the perfect motivator. The Super A’s assured play soon evaporated, however, as it became apparent that the new line-up deprived the team of its trademark mellifluousness.
“This is not football, it’s bogusball!” complained fans, frustrated at the team’s inability to make the Yorkshire Pudding rise.
The Apostrophes’ incoherent, disjointed play resulted in first blood for Real So So Bad, as another embarrassing capitulation seemed as inevitable as income tax.
“Two, four, six, eight, our penalties are Terry Waite!” sang the crowd, enraged by Gillespie’s reluctance to deliver the penalties he had guaranteed, having sworn on the life of Stephen Hawking and the Ghost of Christopher Reeve.
With chances in short supply and the penalty spot a sad, unloved, lonely place of broken promises, the Super A’s second half harvest was certainly no festival. Inadequate defending; the dearth of opportunities; the “let’s see if I can beat my man on the edge of my own box” trickery: the team’s failings were as unsightly as they were innumerable. A debut onion bag violation from Bell was the only highlight of what proved to be a torrid day for the Apostrophes, who languish at the bottom of division II with just one game remaining.
Sporting Apostrophes fourth season has been an unqualified disaster, and, with a team divided by shirt colour, the prognosis is bleaker than a Christmas in Birmingham. A terrible injustice!
Score: 1-7
Squad: Apostolov, Bell, Hawkins, Hinceman, Lissimore, McInerney, Stickland.
Goals: Bell (1).