The agony of defeat - Cup Final Special

It was an expectant arena we arrived to on Monday night as Sparkshop faced their most important game in many a long year. A journey of rollercoaster proportions had seen the team progress from the qualifying games after many months of disinterested participation. It has never been a competition we have taken an interest in because it lasts for so long, is decided in part on a league created by some bizarre formula and decided at that stage by goal difference. On this occasion we had somehow progressed and made our way to the glory of quarter final and semi final wins over much fancied opponents.

It was a similar scenario again this time with first division representation confronting our quest for glory in 2009. It seemed an early arrival had been planned by several members of the team with a series of elaborate warm up routines in progress although Pete had stuck with the usual two or three pints in preparation to bring him to the peak of fitness.

Richard in goal, Dougie and Dom the bulwark in defence, Kev, Pete and Matt in midfield with holding roles the order of the day, new Matt and myself upfront nursing chest infections and a bad back in Matt's case.

The team was bolstered by the presence of a large and vociferous crowd and their partisan support was valued throughout the game as oohs and aahs littered a game of much excitement. Young children, partners and children formed a phalanx as the team took to the pitch in their new kit (at least some of the shirts had been freshly washed this side of Christmas).

The hero of the hour was unknown at this stage and Gary explained the new rule of not kicking the ball out at the penalty of a booking for deliberately wasting time. It was kick off time and I took to the sidelines as the gladiators stood locked in concentration like some echo of a time when Britain's heroes bestrode the world. Nelson, Wellington, Drake, Kenny Dalglish, men of might and purpose were our role models as the game kicked off to the sight of Sparkshop pressing forward. Oh for a goal to settle the nerves and to extend the lead we held as part of the handicap cup. Two up before the whistle blew, it was almost three within a minute as pressed downhill and struck the post with early efforts from Matt and Dougie.

So near were we that the form book looked redundant amidst the promise those early sallies forth held for us and our eager crowd. The game swung back and forth but of a goal, there was no sign. The defence held firm like a beacon cast upon a rocky shore guiding travellers to safety, holding on to a clean sheet as a man clings to life in the face of adversity.

We turned round at nil nil and the future looked rosy indeed. A cruel blow from fickle fate stabbed home as a shot, bound for safety thundered in only to find an unmarked player at the far post with the simple task of diverting the ball home. Richard's heroics in goal deserved better. His man of the match performance tells the story of a change in balance as the play was condensed in front of our noble defence. He was everywhere and protected the lead for some time yet as all gave everything they had in an effort to stem the tide. As vain as any attempt to quell the force of nature became our task as shot upon shot sped goalward but bodies were thrown into the path of player and ball. Rich was there to glance away or smother any threat of an equalizer until late on a shot arrowed into the bottom corner levelling the game with minutes remaining.

Still we were pressed into action as corner followed corner. Kev put his body and testicles on the line as he blocked the crosses with no fear for his safety and that of his manhood.

A shrill blast brought penalties and the cruellest but most exciting way of deciding the outcome.

The toss was won by Kev and he opted to go first with the spot kicks. Calm, cool and collected he strode forward like a behemoth and smashed his kick low to his left sending the keeper the wrong way. One up and the promise of more to come. Rich, our star in the game dived left and pushed the ball onto the post only to see it rebound across and in off the upright. So close to an early advantage.

Matt bravely stepped up to the plate and placed the ball with aplomb. His kick was true and fierce but destined for the solid frame of the crossbar whence it struck with a brutal thwack. Upward it shot and the pleas to follow up were in vain as the moment slipped from beauty to a dark void of hopelessness. Time stood still as he returned to consoling teammates, those of us who had feared the same fate befalling us and knowing it could have been me.

A confident penalty gave our foes the lead their play on the night had deserved but there was yet one more chance. Dougie, so engrossed in the game he had not thought to volunteer for the penalties, sped forward in my place. His demeanour hinted at a mission not to be left undone. He sidled goalward and struck home a confident kick which blasted to the keeper's right. level again there was a chance.

The last kick. Saved and it meant more penalties, scored and it meant the end, cruel defeat. The kick was true and in but more drama was present on that fateful evening. Gary had not blown as the kick was taken and a retake was ordered. Fate was on our side perhaps? Tension filled the ground as Wimborne crackled in the electric heat of combat. Rich flung himself to one side but alas to no avail. The net rippled treacherously, welcoming the sphere which had run to their advantage and spurned our advances.

Then we went down to the pub and had sausage and chips and a few drinks.


(I just thought the poetry of the match could not be spoilt by such a loving retelling of the anti-climax of defeat but as a teacher I'd be telling the students to rewrite that last bit because it undermines what has gone before).

It was great evening though and thanks to all who watched and played. It made it a special evening. Here's to next time.