Easy Day At The Office...

17th Jan 2009: Arbroath 0, East Fife 2 (Barrs Scottish League Division Two)

The Lichties managed to sting Willie McCulloch's finger tips a couple of times in the opening ten minutes of today's match but, that apart, the big keeper had his most straightforward day of the year so far. This was the fourth time we'd faced the Smokies this term and after some decent performances at Bayview, we'd expected far, far more from our hosts today. And having lost the services of big Tweedie during the week, there were more than a few of the Fifers who made the trip who were feeling less than confident. Fuck knows why we were worried - we horsed them!

That's how it appeared to me anyway. Granted, it could have been the beer talkin' - a big thank you must, therefore, go to the kind souls at the Angus (can't remember what they call it these days...); anywhere that charges just over a tenner for seven drinks (including three bottles of gay-dago beer (racism and homophobia in one word - beat that!) and a bottle of Dog) is asking to be exploited. And exploit it we did, only halting when ah saw a wifey wi' a tail headin' oot the door. By then, of course, it was time for me to go too...

By the time ah was seein' straight again, the Lichties had already done as much damage as they were gonna do this afternoon. After that opening ten minutes, the only question to be answered was whether we'd be able to break them down and take all three points. Wonderful performances all over the park made sure that eventually it was to turn out to be a simple enough task for Baikie's boys.

There'd been a fair amount of pre-match concern about the personnel available to Baikie this week; the team roster is down to such a low number that the side pretty much picked itself. With the subs' bench so threadbare that we had to draft in Goran Stanic and Jason Dair, it was essential that the starting eleven could settle quickly and put in a shift to be proud of. We weren't to be disappointed. Baikie reverted to two up front and thus ensured that McGlashan had to keep plenty in reserve at the back. And that allowed our midfield to dominate throughout. Paul Stewart and Lloyd Young were back where they're comfortable and both played blinders (Lloydie just pipping Bebo for the Man of the Match award).

Having said that, despite our possession and some great passing football (how much more attractive than hoofin' it at every opportunity), we were still finding it difficult to create anything clear cut in front of goal. Stewart and Young were winning everything in the midfield and that allowed the Wonderhorse, the Craw and (especially) the Boaby room to make some outstanding runs. Time after time we headed forward only to be frustrated at the last moment. However, the breakthrough came when Bebo took the opportunity to head towards the Lichties' box; Crawford slid through a neat pass and was more than happy to let Paul take his chance in front of goal.

His first touch took him just into the Arbroath box, intent written all over his face. Sadly, before he could prepare to shoot for goal, the Lichties' Marc McCulloch clattered right through him and sent Stewart sprawling. The ref (who'd done well to keep up with play) came running into the box and pointed immediately to the spot. Talking later to a few of the fans who'd seen the event from the side, it was apparent that the consensus on the terraces was that we'd gotten lucky. However, from where ah was standing, it looked like Bebo had just made the box when he was popped. There wasnae much complaining from the Smokies either but that might just be because they were all as relieved as fuck that the ref only produced a yellow card. Staggeringly, McCulloch stayed on the park... No' that it was much of a worry. Apart fae lampin' Stewart, he'd done fuck all anyway.

With our normal penalty taker sitting behind Dave Baikie (lovely view....), the responsibility fell to the Boaby; his effort went high to the keeper's left and nearly burst the net. It was a cracker of a goal, no more than we deserved and knocked the first of the nails into Arbroath's coffin. There was barely half an hour on the clock but, already, it looked like our hosts were well beaten. They kicked off and went through the motions as best they could but could do nothing to excite their fans. Soon enough, the Smokesters in the stands were slowly drifting off for their half time refreshments - whatever they fancied, it would have been tastier than the fare on offer on the park.

And so, for the second time in as many weeks, ah got tae the pie stall seconds after the whistle but was still too fuckin' late for a steak pie. As they say in ma hoose, ah was fuuuuuckin' raaaagin', but soon got over it and decided tae gie the mince pie option another chance. Complementary broon sauce, a smile fae the wee wifey that would brighten up the deepest depression and a taste that wasn't exactly good but at least wouldn't be breakin' any laws if it described itself as foody. What more could a hungry, bald drunk ask for? (well, it would have been good if the burd wi the tail had turned up at the game...).

No changes at the start of the second half for either side so unsurprisingly it started much like the first had ended - Arbroath were showing very little (even ambition...) and we kept piling forward looking for goals. Linn in particular looked right in the mood, pushing forward at every opportunity and ably supported by Crawford and Templeman. Once again, the best chance that the home side had in the entire forty five minutes came within five minutes of the re-start; a free kick from just outside the box was well saved by McCulloch but hardly worth getting worked up about. That, however, was as good as it was gonna get for the home fans and they spent the next forty minutes in silence, broodily wringing their hands in exasperation as their team was slowly but ever so surely taken tae bits.

The defining moment came just past the hour mark. Picking the ball up from a neat Crawford pass, Linn was miles from goal but had just one thing on his mind. Hitting the accelerator, he pressed forwards towards the Arbroath box and was only finally stopped when Alan Rattray scythed the forward down. The linescheat waved his flag, the ref blew his whistle and... we all held our breaths wondering what the fuck was going on. At first the ref appeared to be awarding a free kick to the Lichties but just seconds later he was popping the ball on the penalty spot before turning his attention to Mr Rattray.

Fortunately, the ref had remembered to pack both cards for the second half so he had no hesitation in taking out the big red one (oo-er) and stuffing it right up the big defender's nose. He trudged off the park as Bobby Linn confidently ran in and doubled the lead, this time sending the keeper the wrong way and blasting the ball high into the net.

And that was that! The game went on, it got darker, it got colder and we continued to do our best tae break down the home defence. Down to ten men, there was never any chance of the Smokies fighting their way back and so the fans simply huddled together to keep warm and enjoyed the last half hour of the match. For me, the brightest moments of the remaining time were when Goran and Jason came out to do some warming up shortly before the end. Mr Dair tells me he's feeling fine and rarin' tae go and Goran looks 'zelo dobro' to me (Oprostite, Goran, govorim malo slovensko, ni makedonsko) which all augurs well for the future - the sooner the two of them are fighting for a place in the team, the better.

Proceedings eventually came to an end and another three well earned points were added to the tally. As the fans drifted happily away and the players congratulated each other, Dave Baikie made his way into the dressing room, secure that he'll have a week free of demands for his head, his baws or his job - hey, we're a fickle bunch. But fair play to the gaffer - if he takes the flak when it goes wrong, we should applaud him when he gets it right. A great display, a fine performance and just the reason ah needed for mair beer!

Uneventful enough back at the Angus apart from watching our very own Angusfifer get his marching orders from his missus after being the pub for an illicit post-match twenty minutes (he's got more in common wi' me than ah thought). And as he made his weary way and we headed for the bus, we calculated that we had just enough time tae pick up four cans of Export (don't ask - guess it was on offer) and a packet of Sports Mixtures. Picnic sorted, it was a thirty second stroll to the bus stop and... 'sorry lads, this one's fur Eberdeen'. Ah'm no' that bothered that oor bus had fucked off early; just the fact that the hour that we had to wait for the next one was spent in the salubrious surroundings of the Station Bar.

Ah've no idea what the locals were getting up to in that wee back room but it didnae sound healthy. But fortunately (???) we had the pants bored (rather than ripped) off us by an Aberdeen supporter who told us about all the good pubs in Aberdeen. Well, he told us about one pub in Aberdeen - so long as we don't wear our colours, talk wi a Fife accent, make eye contact wi' the locals or breath in a threatening manner, we should be more than welcome on the 7th February.

Which all sounds grand. But before we take our place in the quarter finals of the cup, we've got another couple of league matches tae think about. Next up is Queen's Park, that stubborn bunch from the south side. If we play as well as we did this afternoon, we should finally open our account against them for the season!!