Gonnae Move; Ah Cannae see The Pitch...

5th April 2008: East Fife 2, Dumbarton 1 (Barrs Scottish League Division Three)

Beauty is simply the consciousness of our perfections. So said that auld Spanish (well, really Catalán) guy wi the wee moustache and a talent for weird pictures. For the six hundred odd that turned up this afternoon, there's now the opportunity to debate long into the night as to what we actually witnessed today.

Was it beauty? Well, I don't know about that but I'm aware of what perfection is on a football field. I understand what good looks like. And, in the end, we grabbed another three points, scored two decent goals and scrubbed one more game off this season's schedule. That all seems good tae me. But was it beautiful????

Well, ah'm no' as sharp as Senor Dali so, for me, naw, it wasn't really what beauty means. What ah did see, however, was our team once again trying their best tae win the game. It certainly wasn't pretty and they were up against another side seeking tae give the champs a bloody nose. But when push came to shove, they had enough bottle to score two goals and hold the visitors to one. Sometimes beauty is in the eye of the bookie's line. I'd bet that Liverpool, Leeds, Grays and East Fife would win; only the beautiful people at the top end of the Premiership let me down so maybe beauty's overrated!!!

Once in that mindset it was easy to reflect on another fine performance by our heroes. And it's worth remembering that Baikie's spent the last couple of games shuffling the players around to give the whole squad a chance. Before kick off today the Boaby, Ryan, Kevin Gordon and GG all made their way to the dugout to watch; in a normal week, they could pretty much all expect to start. So maybe it's not too surprising that some of the guys are finding it tough going right now - they've hardly had a kick all season.

The team did have plenty of regulars, mind, and they started brightly enough, kicking off in the normal blustery, sunny, cold, wet, scorching conditions (wind to our backs.... and into our faces!) that we've become used to at Bayview. But to be fair to the Sons, it was evident that they were a different team to the one we horsed just a few weeks ago under the shadow of the Rock. They were well organsised and in the opening minutes really looked to be in the mood. Such was the pressure that they exerted throughout the fixture, they'll feel aggrieved to be heading home west with nothing to show for a rousing performance.

After the first ten minutes or so the home side were fairly pushed back and, despite gallant efforts to fight back, proved to be somewhat ineffectual against a tough Dumbarton midfield. We were allowed little time on the ball and, as a result, all too often our control and passing let us down. It was already looking like it might be a long afternoon...

With twenty minutes on the clock the sunshine disappeared and the sleet started to batter down. It had already been a dour afternoon but, with the wind blowing it right into the stand, it was to get all the worse for the fans sitting there. Nothing special on the pitch and fuckin' freezing in the stand... Mr Corstorphane wrung out his flannel (nae use in this weather) and headed for relative safety underneath the roof...

Only to be huckled moments later by a solitary Dumbarton fan who muttered to the big man, "could ye moove pleese; ah canny see the pitch....!". This fucker had been bouncing around the far end of the stand since kick off, picking various vantage points from the three hundred seats available. As soon as Mr C took his place, the twat was nudging up beside him lookin' for bother. Or maybe that's unfair - Johnny Nae Pals was perhaps just looking for a friend. Sadly, he picked the wrong man and so, for the first time since I met Jim, ah heard a sentence (mair of a paragraph....) that went on for ages and was made up entirely of sweary words. Way to go, James!

The saddo retreated to the back row of the stand and, apart fae the occasional slurp fae his Bovril, ah heard not a further peep for the rest of the game. Neither he nor the other Sons fans (located strategically some way distant of the loonie) would have been much in the mood for cheering anyway. With the minutes ticking away, and with the Fife appearing to be happy to get in at the break on level terms, we pushed forward and grabbed a goal. Against the run of play? Well, maybe yes but that's why we're champions! In a rare foray up the field the ball fell to Stevie Nick who looked to have squandered his chance, only for Paul McManus to have a pop from the edge of the box.

His effort appeared goal bound but bounced back off the post where the Wonderhorse, quickest to react, simply popped the ball away from close range. The three dozen Dumbarton fans (except, surprisingly, the lonely bovril monster) shrieked in anger - convinced that Templeman was offside. But there were no complaints from the defenders on the park and the linescheat's flag stayed by his side. Good goal and, somehow, we'd be going in at the break in the lead. Beautiful!!

So, while the respective managers were attemping to come to terms with just how the score could be what it was, I headed to the other end of the park, tried to warm up (ah didnae) and read a text message fae ma missus. No' often that she does that; nae doubt she was missing me and wanted me to know. Either that or the fridge-freezer had packed up she wanted me to know that we'd be heading for Comet before ah'd be gettin' ma tea.... The pie ah was scoffin' was goona prove to be the dearest one ah'd bought all season...

But ah soon forgot about such trivia; Baikie sent the boys back out and, for the first time in the game, we really started tae look like the home side. Dumbarton stuck to their game plan but, showing far more pace and control, we spent much more time in the Sons' half than we'd done so far. Templeman, McManus and Stevie Nick all played well and were supported by Lloyd Young and Dougie Cameron who put in a great shift and was to be rewarded just on the hour mark.

We'd won a corner when we should probably have done better. Dougie trotted to the corner and fired over a great cross. Templeman, McManus, Steven Tweed, Smartie and the Fozzmeister rattled about in the box, giving the Sons' defence plenty to keep them occupied. Their keeper had little to do but still managed tae make an arse of himself, a mere spectator as the ball whisked past him and straight into the goal direct from Dougie's boot. Shitey defending but outstanding stuff from Mr Cameron.

As the fans went bananas, he simply stood at the corner and waited for his team-mates to run to him and pay homage (don't think ah'd have been inclined tae snog his boot, mind....). It was a stroke of genius but probably not any more than we've come to expect this season. And with less than half an hour to go, we had to be confident that we'd be able to add more to the tally.

The Sons had different ideas, mind. Unperturbed by the goals and the noise that was finally coming from the fans, Dumbarton simply brushed themselves down and concentrated in getting back into the game. They had to wait just five minutes to claw one back. I was at the other end of the park so didn't see much of what happened. However, most of their fans enjoyed the goal; the only one who appeared unfazed was the solitary tosser at the far end of the park who, rather than jumping up and down with delight, just changed seats again.... strange!

And after that it really was end to end stuff. The Boaby came on and was his usual wonderful self but, although he upped the ante, failed to really pressurise the Sons' keeper. At the other end, however, it was another hero that we had to thank for ensuring that we took all three points. In the closing twenty minutes of the game, Dumbarton created a number of decent chances; with big Tweedie limping off just before the Sons' goal, his pal, Smartie, looked a bit exposed at the centre of defence. No' that that proved tae be much of a problem - we had the Wight Stuff!

With every passing game, I remember the comments of my big pal, Keith (the Hun). "Craig Wight", he mused, "He's fuckin' garbage!". And yet, week after week, the big man's delivered. Today was no different. In the final quarter of an hour Dumbarton threw everything at us and rattled in three or four great efforts. With the defence left helpless it was up to Craig to show that he really does deserve his championship medal. Not only that, the keeper's gone one better than a mere SFL medal - he picked up today's FC Man of the Match award. No brainer, the big man was fuckin' outstanding!

So the time ran down, the cheat blew for time and three more points were safely marked into the credit side of the ledger. Ma missus picked me up ootside the Gospel Hall in the High Street (funny how she's aye late except when we're gaun tae buy a fuckin' freezer....) and before I knew it, I was three hunner pound outa pocket (if only Liverpool had won.....). Should be delivered on Thursday so ah wouldnae bother comin' round ma hoose for a cuppa before then - the milk's likely tae be off. On the positive side, however, when you open the door of ma new Hotpoint, the first thing you see is a huge bottle rack. Fuck the quality of today's game; that really is a thing of beauty!