Gubbed - An' No Excuses...

31st Jan 2009: East Fife 0, Peterhead 0 (Barrs Scottish League Division Two)

Well, at least somebody had some fun. Ah guess that a free bar can do a lot to ensure that, come what may, we can still hold onto our sense of humour. As you know, one of the perks (apart fae the free beer) of enjoying an afternoon's corporate shenanigans in the Jeek Fleming Suite is the right to choose the man of the match. At a quarter tae five the day, having endured nearly two hours of torture, the tannoy rang out to tell us all that, incredulously, today's MoM award was going to.... the Golden Nugget. The two wee ballboys at the sea end laughed their tits off, screeching their disbelief and commenting that they must've been puttin' somethin' in the beer today.

Now ah've never been one tae single folk out when we've lost a match - hey, for as long as ah've been watchin' East Fife, all ah can remember is every one of them working their hearts out for the shirt. So, rather than goin' tae town on it, ah'll just say this; young Nugent had the misfortune of being involved (that's the best way to put it) with all three of the Blue Toon's goals this afternoon. The young man certainly did his best to redeem himself but ah'd have tae admit that ah didnae think that his efforts quite merited man of the match. But then, ah wasnae as fuckin' pissed as the boys up in the JFS. Or, as the ballboys said, "that's the best laugh we've had aw week...".

For me, however, the best laugh was still to come. With time almost up, we'd pushed forward and the Blue Toon defence managed to scramble the ball behind. The linescheat signalled immediately for the corner but the Peterhead keeper thought otherwise. As he ran behind to collect the ball, this eighteen stone leviathan had failed to account for the five stone Fifer ballperson (to give him (or her) his (or her) politically correct title). The big ginger heided buffoon tried tae grab the ball but the wee man was havin' none of it...

"It's a corner ya prick!", he casually announced flicking the ball from one hand to another, "it's a fuckin' corner!", at which he simply popped the ball over the keeper's napper and strolled nonchalantly back to his position behind the net. As the goalie's puss went the colour of his hair, me an' the guy from the East Fife Mail could only snigger like bairns. In an afternoon that had long since gone right doon the pan, it was just what ah needed tae cheer me up. So, whatever yer name is wee man, top marks - from the mouths of babes... (just don't let yer ma hear ye using language like that...).

By then, of course, it was all over bar the shoutin' and plenty of the home fans had already made their weary way home. But just two hours earlier, as we headed into Bayview, the mood had been so much more buoyant. With last week's magnificent second half display still clear in all our memories, we'd braved another freeeezing Methil afternoon and expectations were high as the boys took the field. From the kick off all prospects looked good. With less than a minute on the clock, Shagger sneaked in behind the Peterhead defence and was only stimied by the oncoming keeper who collected the ball comfortably.

Undeterred, we continued to push and just moments later came close again. Bobby Linn, who again looked to have a free role, slung over a great cross and as his team mates queued up to take their chances, a despairing header from fullback, Callum MacDonald, was nearly enough for us to take the lead. The keeper was well beaten but somehow the ball stayed ootside the net and was cleared.

And that, sadly, was as bad as the Blue Toon's defending was to be for the whole match. Thereafter, they coped easily with virtually everything we threw at them - the hardest part of all of it was watching the blimp-like Bobby Mann stroll through the game. He might be fifty eight years old and weigh in at something over twenty three stone but he earned his 'bag-of-buns-on-the-bus-back-home' easier today than he has all season.

As our visitors settled at the back, they managed to gain some more possession in midfield and soon moved forward into Fife territory. Tragically, their first effort on goal provided them with their first goal. With us failing to get in an even half-hearted challenge, they were able to float a cross over to the far post where it was the simplest of jobs for Stuart McKay to head home from close range. McCulloch's first task of the afternoon was to pick the ball out of the net.

It was a fuckin' sickener for the home fans but the bus load who'd made the trip from above the Arctic Circle were as happy as hell and made as much noise as their collective lungs could muster. All except two of them, of course. Love's Young Dream sat on their own at the far end of the stand, oblivious to what was happening on the pitch.

Ah wouldnae have noticed but for Jim Corstorphine - look, Ian, the boy's feelin' that burd's tits... (or words tae that effect...). If only we'd known - by the end of this one, the young highlander wasnae the only one feelin' a tit!

But with the scent of last weekend's victory still in their nostrils, the boys kept at it and got stuck straight back in again. From the restart we pushed forward in an attempt to get right back at Peterhead. We continued to have the best of the possession but the conditions were far from conducive to silky football and as often as not our last ball tended to get caught up in the strong wind and left McManus wanting. That said, however, it was Shagger who created our next chance. His shot appeared to be on target but was well blocked, only for the ball to fall to Lloyd Young. The nearest defenders could only look on, expecting the inevitable, but Lloydie somehow contrived to punt his effort right at the keeper and the chance was lost.

We were eventually to pay for the miss because, as the half wore on, more and more of our passes forward were pushed too far and fell safely for the keeper. Just past the half hour mark, we were to rue Young's miss all the more. In a rare foray forward, Peterhead had taken a chance to have a pop at goal; McCulloch made a great stop low at the post but could only slide the ball out for a corner. The resulting kick appeared inoccuous enough but the entire Fife defence looked like nails on an old-fashioned bagatelle. The ball made its way unhindered across the box and found McKay at the far post; he'd have been checking his diary at half time to see if it was his birthday - he'll no' have an easier chance this season. And just the way we all used tae do at the school, faced with an open net, the forward blasted the ball home from barely a yard out!!! Take some of that...

At the side of the pitch, Dave Baikie was apoplectic with rage. Fortunately, there were none of the substitutes in his way when he lobbed his notebook heavenwards and swung a kick intae the side of the dugoot. What a clatter; ah just hope that the gaffer didnae hurt himself. The way things had been goin' on the park during the first half, the last thing the team needed at the interval was a pep talk from a grumpy auld fucker wi' a sore toe! No' that a pain in his foot would have stopped him bootin' one or two of them right up the arse...

No' that ah was worrying much about what was going on in the dressing room. After weeks of searching for the ultimate football ground half time steak pie, I've resigned myself to never finding it. Instead, ah thought ah'd gie the Bayview Scotch Pie another go. Things looked mighty promising - instead of the usual two wee lads who cannae count for toffee, ah was greeted at the pie stall by a wumman. Fifteen seconds later I was clutching a piping hot pie and the correct change out of one fifty. Delicious, simply delicious. No' quite good enough tae take away the pain of those two goals but certainly enough tae at least warm me up a bit. I was already anticipating a l-o-n-g second half.

And that's exactly what it proved to be. Peterhead had coped well battling against the gale coming off the sea and now looked to continue playing neat football while we struggled to even make the simplest of passes. They came out, looking to sit back and catch us on the break but soon they realised that they had plenty in reserve at the back and moved forward themselves.

At times things were so bad that Stevie Crawford was forced back to help Dougie Cameron at left back. Meanwhile, however, Lloyd Young persisted in his efforts as best he could and Paul Stewart moved out to the left wing. Alas, it took about a minute for their right back to realise that Bebo's got no left foot so simply tracked him infield and allowed Bobby Mann to do his stuff. He cannae move far or fast but when yer colleagues just funnel Fifers towards you, all he had to do was wait... It's a fuckin' tragedy that someone so grotesquely cumbersome can challenge for the man of the match award... But, hey, it is a strange old game.

Not that this particular game was turning out to be that strange. They were better than us, they were beating us and... ten minutes into the second half they bagged a third goal. Moving up the right, they slid past Dougie C and headed towards goal. Their initial shot was well saved by Wullie but unfortunately rebounded into play off the bar and the quickest to react was Graeme Sharp who just tapped the ball into an empty goal. It was already clear that last week's heroics would not be repeated. Over half an hour to go and bugger all to look forward to.

The longer the game went on, the more forlorn our efforts looked. But fair play to the boys, they kept working as hard as they could but were thwarted time after time by a team that was far better organised and, honestly, appeared far more adept at dealing with both the weather conditions and, more importantly, anything that the black and golds could come up with. The match appeared to be fizzling out to no' very much but with fifteen minutes to go, the Wonderhorse made a welcome appearance from the substitutes' bench.

Dave Baikie insisted after the game that he'd planned to put Chris on earlier but the big lad had been oot on the lash since his wife had a baby son last Thursday an' it took until the seventy fifth minute for big Temps tae sober up. Maybe he should go on the ran-dan every week - the big lad was immense when he came on. All of a sudden we had a new urgency about us and finally we found some room in front of goal. Combining with Shagger, Lloydie and the Boaby, Temps injected the wee spark that we needed and it looked like we might be able to grab a consolation goal in the closing minutes.

The big fella even managed to carve out a shooting opportunity for himself, easily losing his marker before heading infield to the edge of the Peterhead box. Time slowed down - everyone held their breath - here we go - edge of our seats... Chris swung his boot towards the ball, made contact and... hmmm... jury's still oot but ah'd say it was Graeme Irons who started weeping first. Thankfully, Peterhead made nothing of the resulting throw-in...

But at least Templeman gave us all some reason for cheer and, of course, the ballboys provided some light entertainment late on. In the end, we couldn't quite make the breakthrough that we wanted but, if truth be known, we were well beaten this afternoon by a team that was just hungrier on the day and adapted better to the conditions. I guess that there might have been some thought on next weekend's cup trip to the Land of the Sheep but with things getting so tight in our league campaign, we really need tae keep our eyes on the real prize. The way results went today means that there are now half a dozen teams that can realistically set their thoughts on promotion. Whatever happens next week in Aberdeen, we'd be well advised to remember that there's an altogether bigger game back at Bayview in a fortnight.

So let's all enjoy our day out next week but get back in numbers for the Ayr game on the fourteenth. With our help the boys can make it a Valentine's Day Massacre for the Honest Man!