The Raita Dip of Omar Khayyam

6th Aug 2008: East Fife 0, Brechin City 3 (CIS Insurance Cup)

We've had a gang of IT geak-freeks up from Head Office this week so it's been fun all the way. To be fair to them, they've been nothing less than charming but then I suppose that's all down to how well they were brought up and knowing how to behave in company. They almost certainly must also be right in wi'the high heid yins; not only have they been determinedly politely spoken and kind of deed... THEY'VE ALSO GOT A BUDGET!!!

Don't ask me how they did it but they've somehow managed to snaffle some cash out of the megalithic citadel that is 'The Company'. Flush with the kind of confident generosity that only possession of the corporate credit card can muster, they happily invited us all out tonight for a few drinks and a curry - the glories of the Omar Khayyam in Shandwick Place beckoned...

It was a no-brainer for good ol' Bryan the Consultant (Conan's brother-in-law??). 'Ah'll just check in wi the burd and be right there'. Check in wi the burd, Bryan? You've been here since January and we've seen neither hide nor hair. He insists he's got a wumman (or 'gelfren' as he insists on pronouncing it.... the lad's from Chelmsford, I believe....) who goes by the name of Danny (aye, right...) but even after all these months we've still no' seen him... er, her.

Nevertheless, it was a straightforward two part equation for the big man - 1. Will you guys be payin'? and 2. Good - count me in. Loathed as I am to accuse the guy of bein' tight (even if Danny does like it that way....), this miserable fucker hasn't even got as far as buyin' the team a packet of jaffa cakes in the last six months...

However, the idea of wiling a few pleasant hours (even in Bryan's delightful company - honest Ian, I've got a gelfren and her name's Dani....) away over a lamb bhuna, spicy onions and raita & chilli dips was certainly somewhat appealing. But.... NO!, I declared (in capital letters), I have to decline your kind invitation - I have a date with destiny...

So ah loupt on ma train, got home and quickly shoved two veggie burgers doon ma neck (did ah tell you that Mrs FC is on a diet, by which I do, of course, mean I'm on a diet) and by the time that the IT-meisters (and two meistrettes) were remarking on how big nan breads are in Scotland, I was already at the Theatre of Dreams and rarin' tae go.

But talk about ma bubble burstin'. Naw, naw, naw - ah'm no' even talkin' about the game yet. Pushin' ma way through the turnstiles, editor in chief, big Liam, cheerfully informed me that he'd had to 'edit' ma contribution tae this week's programme. Edit? Down right censorship if ye ask me - don't you understand, Liam? Press freedom is precious... an' also, ah was confident that it was Pulitzer Prize standard this week.... it's no' easy turning that (lack of) quality out every week!!! (Note to self... if he didnae like the stuff about Stirlin', ah'd better have a wee rethink about next Wednesday's Airdrie piece...)

In the meantime, however, I had other things on my mind... like whether we'd even get to kick off before the heavens opened and washed Bayview into the sea. With hindsight that might have been a better option as the following ninety minutes were as dreary and dreich as any ah could remember. That the weather was so shite was hardly unexpected - fuck; it's been raining since July... That a team which appears so strong on paper could deliver such an insipid performance on the night was nothing short of shocking.

Despite startin' off confidently enough, we were soon on the back foot; it took little time for a vengeful Brechin side tae find their feet and get stuck in. For the hundred fans who'd made their way down from Tayside (or, for the geopolitically anal among you, Angus) there was plenty to cheer them. In the first fifteen minutes Willie McCulloch was forced into three fantastic saves when it looked inevitable that we'd be going behind. Shortly afterwards, it looked like we had.

Proving that he's just as capable of bollocks as brilliance, McCulloch failed miserably in his attempt to hoof a clearance up the park and instead simply battered the ball off the Brechin centre forward and was helpless as it ricocheted into an open net. The Hedgemen's fans went wild, Willie looked dismayed and the referee.... staggeringly decided that the keeper had been impeded and awarded us a free kick. Unbelievable and hopefully an indication that luck would be on our side tonight...

Or mebbe no'. We were working hard but there appeared to be no control, no cohesion and no end product. Brechin just concentrated on their game plan and looked sharper, faster and altogether more interested in getting a result. Just seconds before the interval they grabbed their first. They'd been exploiting lax defending for half an hour but, as time ticked on, our midfield also started to look rather rickety. Taking advantage of that, Gary Twigg found himself in acres of space and had time to look up, pull out a pencil, jotter (waterproof, of course) and protractor, remember old Mrs McClung's geometry classes and then, finally, pick his spot. Willie had no chance; the defence didn't even seem to be in the same postcode area...

What a fuckin' scunner - team strugglin', freezin' rainwater dribblin' doon ma arse crack and the knowledge that a dozen greedy bastards would, by now, have finished stuffin' themselves with oriental scran and would be movin' on to a skin full of free beer... Things, as they say, can only get better...

Ahem, not so fast! It wasn't nine o'clock yet but it was already dark and there was nothing in the second half that was to brighten things up for anyone other than the Brechin supporters. The rules of the competition meant that there was the possibility of extra time and penalties. However, it was already apparent to the visiting fans that they'd not have to stay in Fife too late tonight. From the ref's whistle their team got stuck right in again; it was obvious to us all that with forty five minutes still to go, there was gonna be no way back into this one...

Just shy of the hour mark we had our one real chance but were frustrated to see Shagger's headed effort slide just over the bar. And that was as near as we'd get. Five minutes later Brechin went up the park and finished off the game when David White rose and showed us just how to put one away with the napper. Unchallenged, he simply picked his spot and bulleted the ball home.

It was pretty much deja vu ten minutes later when they grabbed the third. Kevin Byers (Sharon's brother perhaps? Knew her at school; got me interested in Patti Smith....) fired over a decent cross which, when McCulloch fluffed at it.... and missed, became a crackin' cross. It's questionable whether John Ward headed the ball or whether it simply skelped off his heid. Whichever it was, it ended up in the net again and the humiliation was complete.

In the last ten minutes McManus and Crawford, who'd again put in great shifts to be rewarded with absolutely fuck all, left and O'Reilly and the Wonderhorse got a chance. To be honest, though, all that they added were two more wet shirts for the auld wifey that does the laundry. They gave it a go but, by then, the team was in disarray. It had been a dismal evening all round, the guys had given it their all but their efforts had been disjointed, naive and futile. And to top it all, the rain had not stopped all fuckin' night. The guys squelched off, the few dozen fans who remained at the end drifted off into the night and our hopes in the Diddy Cup (which it now, surely, has become....) were extinguished for another season.

Which leaves us nicely prepared to concentrate on league duties which commence again all too soon. On Saturday it's a tricky visit to Stirling that's in store for our heroes. It's been a tough start to the season for them and for us so it's important that we all stay united. Tonight was a disaster but that's it finished. Now we've got to get over tae Stirling in numbers and let the boys know that we're behind them. And if you do make the trip, look for me an' ah'll tell you all about the story that didnae appear in the programme tonight - well, that's if Liam doesnae mind...

C'mon the Fife - champions!