In The Next Round - That's All That Matters...

10th Jan 2009: Stenhousemuir 0, East Fife 1 (Tennents Scottish Cup)

Ah only caught the last half an hour of Sportscene last night (ma missus had forced me to struggle through a ten year old episode of Jonathan Fuckin' Creek before ah could watch the fitba) so obviously missed the only game ah was lookin' for. From what ah did see of the Pars, the Accies, Airdrie and Inverness, mind, we've got nothing tae worry about if we get any of them in the next round (ok, fair enough, the Pars' goals were no' bad...).

However, what really did piss me off (even more than missing Linn's goal) was Dougie 'ah-used-tae-be-in-a-famous-pop-group' Vipond's nonsense at the end of the programme. As they put up a caption showing the eight teams already through to the next round, he glibly mutters, "So Aberdeen, Airdrie, Celtic, Inverness, Hamilton and Falkirk all through..." Do teams fae Fife no' count, Dougie?

Thank fuck that it's only occasionally that we have tae suffer the BBC. And thank you very much to the good folk at SKY Sports - hey, you might well be owned by that bastard Murdoch but ah'll hear nothing said against him today. I switched over just after midnight and the first thing I saw scrolling along the bottom of the screen was "Stirling 2-1 Raith Rovers" which cheered me immediately. Fifteen seconds later the first 'action' to be seen was a certain wee guy called Bobby Linn launching over a great corner kick... and seconds later the only thing you could hear was the noise errupting from the away end! You can stick yer 'Freeview' up yer arse - ah'd pay a subscription tae watch that goal any time!

And it just about made the nine quid entry into Ochilview value for money too. In truth, the opening eighty five minutes (ahem) of the game were only made memorable by the fact that, no matter where you were in the stadium and whatever roof you were crouched under, every single fuckin' one of us got rained on. Ok, so the sight of that wee dark haired steward fair warmed up the boys but how Cazza and the Boaby Lover managed tae stay warm is anyone's guess. (but make sure you don't spend too much time thinking about that one though...)

No' that ah had much time tae be worrying about the womenfolk (hey, fitba's a boys' gemme anyway). A wonderful combination of age, pre-match beer, shite fitba, freezing weather and a shot-tae-fuck prostate meant ah was mair interested in findin' the bog than takin' pictures of the match. So when you're ploughing your way through this week's photos be happy at least that ah did find the Gents in time. They could have been a lot worse.

However, tae business. It had the potential tae be a rather interesting day out. The Warriors have been in decent form this season, we've been up and down and you know what we're like when we've a plastic pitch tae contend with. Both teams were well up for it but as the Fife kicked off it looked more like a scene from the Book of Revelation (hey, just cos a don't believe it doesnae mean ah've no' read it...) than a fourth round Scottish Cup match. The clouds gathered in malevolent mood, a sickening darkness fell, a fearful gale from the depths of hell blew around the stadium and torrential rain fell from a malignant sky. With that armagedonesque context, it was hardly surpising that the fare on the park was less than the pure, total football that we might have expected (well, ah'd been lookin' forward tae a good game anyway...).

But fair play tae both sides - despite the conditions, they tried their best tae give the fans something to cheer about. Sadly, the reality of it was that the weather ruined the game completely. The first twenty minutes went on and on and on and failed to deliver anything that could be considered exciting. We huffed and puffed at the far end but the reality was that neither keeper had much to do at all.

But just before the half hour mark, the Warriors created a decent chance and tested McCulloch at last. The big keeper made a bit of an arse of it but that was hardly surprising; he'd been up to his knees in a pool of slush and had lost all feeling in his legs. The fact that he managed tae grab the ball at the second attempt says more about the lack of cutting edge in Stenny's attack than is does about our defence. But, hey, at least the bag lad got there in the end.

He had no chance just minutes later, however, when the home side pushed forward and, after some frantic defending, took an opportunity to bang one goalwards from the edge of the box. It was a decent enough move and they'll feel aggrieved that the ball rattled off the bar and up into to baying away fans. The simple fact, however, is that a goal from the move would have been far more hullabaloo than the first half deserved to provide. Whether the attempt excited any of the home fans is unknown; by then they were already starting to queue for the halftime comestibles.

Which probably explains why there were nae fuckin' steak pies left for us. Ah was about fifth in the line at the pie stall (and three of the bairns in front of me were only lookin' for sherbet sweeties) but still managed tae get there after they were 'selt-oot' so had tae trudge ma way through a sturdy cardboard number that toiled manfully tae live up to its name - pie? Questionable.. but it certainly was fuckin' mince! And so was the other half time entertainment.

Remember the last time we were here and that daft bastard wi' the beer belly and the builder's arse fell over and broke his collar bone? Wi' that in mind, our hosts today arranged tae have their shooty-in at halftime in front of the main stand instead of at the away end. If they thought that would stop the Fife fans rippin' the pish out of the contestants, they were surely much mistaken. As the four fans involved in the competition took fifteen minutes tae score twice, the Fife Faithful merely adjusted their binoculars and laughed all the louder. Honest tae fuck, you'd think they'd have some kind of pre-selection process tae weed oot the wumin!

Thankfully, the second half was to provide at least one bit more excitement than the penalty shut out had. It still wasnae up tae much, the weather continuing to dominate everything that happened, but East Fife, at least, had more possession now than they had earlier in the game. We looked more comfortable but still found it difficult to maintain any real control or create much in front of the Stenny goal. Paul McManus and the Wonderhorse were doing their best top end but hard work from the home defence and a swirling wind worked hard together to keep us out.

Soon the game got a bit bogged down (which is rather ironic considering it's supposed tae be an all weather pitch...) in the middle of the park. Lloyd Young, who'd come on for Nugent at the start of the second half, had looked the one player who might be able to rise above the conditions and create a wee bit of magic. However, despite combining on a number of occasions with Templeman and Shagger, we were to be frustrated every time. The longer the game wore on (and, believe me, it felt like it would never end...), it became more and more apparent that we were in for a second stab at this one in Methil a week on Monday (ah'll have tae SKY Plus University Challenge...).

But thankfully the Boaby was there to fix it for us. Or rather... thankfully the ref made a mistake and awarded us a corner and THEN the Boaby was there to fix it. The wee man had made a pig's arse of three corners already so you can be sure that there weren't that many of us holding our breath in anticipation. But give it to the wee guy, it was a perfectly flighted kick, slung over to the back post. As Temps, Torro, Jay and Shagger hustled and harried the defenders in the box, the weather got its way and guaranteed headlines in Sunday's papers. Caught in the swirling wind, the ball appeared to get caught up and then swereved towards the far post, clattering the stanchion of post and crossbar before ending up in the net. Was it flair? Was it fluke? Well, whatever... It was a windfall that, on the balance of play, we probably just about merited. Mind you, that's coming from a Fife fan. Ah don't suppose the Warriors will see it as anything more than jammy, jammy, jammy.

But ah cannae help thinking that there'll no' be many of us complaining. After all, a win's a win and, as the final whistle sounded, we were all more than happy to give one last cheer, clap the guys off the field (get a fuckin' move on, boys, it's cauld...) and then head for the exits. Another wonderful pint of Best at the Plough and then off tae the station. Have tae admit that ah'd have happily stayed with the boys at the boozer but, hey, ma missus tells me ah should think masel lucky that ah'm gettin' tae the games at all (can see already that it's gonnae be tough next season) so off ah toddled tae catch ma train.

But talk about every cloud havin' a silver lining. As a plopped doon on the quarter tae six tae Edinburgh and got maself comfy, ah looked up intae the eyes of a pathetic, drowned rat of a lino-likker sitting in the seat opposite. Ho, fuckin' ho - enjoy the extra beer boys; this looks like much more fun altogether.

"We won," I cheerily informed him, "what about yous?"

And that appeared tae be as much of a conversation as the lino reakin' fanny wanted... Tell you what, they're no' so fuckin' chirpy when their team's just been fuckin' horsed. And even though the rest of the train must have thought that ah was a complete fuckin' retard, it was a price worth payin' as ah sat there an' every two minutes muttered quietly,

"We won; what about yous?" all the way intae Haymarket.

Ah jumped off tae pick up the next Kirkcaldy train but, for some reason, the Pratt Street Pussy stayed determinedly in his seat, refusing tae even look out the window (he'd only have seen me mouthing, "We won; what about yous?") and headed intae Waverley. Who knows, maybe he's a Rovers' fan fae Edinburgh (right...) but it was a perfect end to the day for me as ah settled down and headed home, secure that, whatever time the wee wank finally made it home, he'd be in all sorts of bother fae his mammy (big sister?). Sent tae bed withoot any supper and nothin' on the telly worth watchin' apart fae Jonathon Creek! Well, he wouldnae be watchin' Sportscene, would he?