With parents looking about as fresh as The Happy Mondays emerging from the Hacienda on a Sunday in 1990, the Wokingham and Woodley players had a lot to do by way of marshalling their seniors towards wakefulness. Woodley were set up in a disconcertingly coherent formation and immediately set about doing the simple things well, namely kicking the ball in the right direction towards a player which the kicker had identified as wearing an exact replica of the repugnant green shirt he himself was wearing. This playing of the ‘simple ball’ thereby contrived to destroy what I can only describe as an ‘aesthetically deluded’ Wokingham line-up. Careful observers will identify the root of this problem as originating in a misinterpretation of Thursday evening’s training seesion in which the skill focus was on the correct execution of a Cruyff Turn. Thus Connor Mulvaney, last week’s 5 goal wizard, was so beset by the false imperatives of Mr Cruyff that he came to resemble Mr Cholmondely-Warner on an empty wing, a static Cruyff machine which spun and spun until Woodley got bored and nonchalantly poked the ball from its pointless cycle. The sooner we leave the spectre of this conceited Dutchman behind, the better.
A two goal lead was quickly achieved before Evan opportunistically hit a loose ball from outside the box to pull one back, sparking false hope among the Satsuma ultras congregated behind the Burgemeester Stramanweg end of the ground. Hope was false because Johan continued to exert his moronic spell on the Wokingham team throughout the game, allowing Woodley to amble through a Wokingham & Emmbrook defence which possessed about as much conviction as Mike Gatting in the face of apartheid. To lighten the atmosphere, as if to atone for the transgressive elements of last week’s song, the Wokingham contingent opted for a much more environmentally friendly effort this week, spontaneously breaking into a chorus of ‘King of the Road’, complete with gendered parts: (men) ‘No car, no pool, no pets’: (women) ‘WE AIN’T GOT NO CIGARETTES! THIRD BOXCAR, MIDNIGHT TRAIN, DESTINATION BANGOR, MAINE. OLD WORN OUT CLOTHES AND SHOES, I DON’T PAY NO UNION DUES!’
The final score was, of course, immaterial and the Satsumas thankfully left the pitch in relative ignorance of its truth and implications. Mesmerised by the shambles, our drive home then took a turn for the worse and resulted in a three-point turn near the railway line in Earley. Evan remarked: ‘You are driving mad. This is not how we get home. Where the HELL are we going?’
Wilderspool Causeway 