Unibond Northern Premier League, April 4th 2009
The Good Ship Pilgrim was back in port last Saturday and, given an injury list the length of my gangly arms, was in desperate need of repair. Micky Nuttell, having shaken off his arthritis, was out having his elbows sharpened and he wasn't the only one beyond repair.
Leigh Genesis are a baffling team. Despite their biblical pretensions, their progression to the book of Revelation (a.k.a. inglorious relegation) has been rather swift, although at least their wandering in the desert has finally finished after finally moving in to their new stadium, beautifully oversized for their purposes by a factor of about 100. One of the flags hung in the York Street stand read 'Astra Army on Tour' and their invisible travelling support could probably have crammed into the aforementioned Vauxhall conveyance.
Such is life following Boston United, however, that Genesis were permitted to return to Manchester (or the Holy Land) with a point which really did no one any favours. Wes Parker, trying to run off the symptoms of a hernia, nodded the Pilgrims into a first-half lead but, with an all too familiar stroke of misfortune, Genesis were awarded a late, late penalty, duly converted.
However, with the sense of crushing inevitability that could only happen in Boston, the most riveting entertainment was found off the pitch. Below my perch in the Town End stood, as per usual, a gentleman whose God-avowed intent to blast every unfortunate referee dispatched to South Lincolnshire with an accented stream of invective.
The geezer really excelled himself on Saturday. Teetering on the brink of cardiac arrest, he verbally assaulted the official with such x-rated gems as "Why don't u just fack off weferee..." and "howsabout that then wef!" and with as much regularity as a Pilgrims away day reverse.
Twice, at pivotal moments of refereeing incompetence, he made an excursion, verbally-challenged son in tow, to the cusp of the pitch only to be denied by a polite notice which read 'Emergency Gate.' If only all hooligans were so considerate...
The penalty incident brought the final straw and the bloke nearly exploded. He was so damn enraged with the ref, the opponents, the temperature of his coffee and life in general that he even left his flask behind. Shame. "The game should never have been played..." was his final salvo. Hmmm.
And so, we'll set sail for Hednesford (which could be difficult given it's extreme inland location) next Saturday, as usual more in hope than expectation.
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