Eminently Do-able

29nd Aug 2009: East Fife 1, Arbroath 1 (Barrs Scottish League Division Two)

Twenty minutes from time today, Nipper proved well and truly that he's an East Fife man, taking one for the team in the most courageous way. The Lichties had been pressing and took the opportunity to skelp a hard shot towards goal. The keeper looked beaten but Thomson gallantly threw himself at the ball and doubled up in agony half a second later when he took one right in the haw-maws. On strode Brian McNeil, the finest physio this side of the Mississippi, to do the biz. Deep Heat spray right in the knackers; if you listened carefully you could hear the precise moment that Nipper's meat n two veg sooked up into his body and ricocheted aff his diaphragm.

Now ah don't want tae be accused of casting aspersions on Brian's abilities as a magic sponge man... But, it could have been so different. Ah'll bet you the moment that the spray hit his nads, Nipper was wishin? he was wearing a white shirt instead of a black and gold one. Did anyone else clock the Arbroath physio?

Ah'd heard that the Arbroath Supporters' Trust had been fund raising for a special project but hadnae realised it was tae get one of their backroom staff a sex change. The money looks very well spent because Leona (hey, ah'm so smooth ah even got her number...) looks the biz. It's surely nae fuckin? wonder that every time one of the Lichties' players got tackled, doon he went. In the first half, Lloyd Young clashed heads wi one of their midfielders but seconds later there he was, blood gushing from a slit across his forehead, but writhing about in agony screamin'. "ma baws, that bastart goat ma baws..."

But there were no flies on our Leona - one she slinked (sultry, eh?), kneeled down beside her prostrate charge, whispered something in one ear and before you could say "who's the wee ride in the grey?", up he rose, like some latter-day Lazarus and he was soon back in the thick of things. Each time a Smokie was tackled, it was the same show and eventually, eleven minutes before the break, there she was, treating Paul Lunan at the by line, Jim Corstorphine just feet behind her moaning in pain...

"When you've finished wi him, darlin;, could ye help me. Think ah've poked masel in the scrotum wi' ma tripod..."

Fair play tae the big man, mind; up until then the best ah could come up wi was askin' Colin Cameron what he liked best about her. "Ah don't know, Colin, the erse is lovely but hav ye checked they tats?" Smooth bastard, am't ah?

It was as well that the Lichties had thought to bring her along. Other than the relative merits of her bits an pieces, there wasnae a whole lot else tae be getting excited about. Arbroath had scored plenty in their opening couple of weeks and a fortnight ago we'd easily taken Brechin tae bits so it was all set for an engrossing afternoon's football. The weather was also playing ball, the pitch looked its customarily perfect self and a decent crowd (well...) were well prepared for a skillful, high scoring encounter. The first half didnae deliver much of anything - aye at times it was end to end but all too often the final shots from both sides were disappointing (or, if you're not that charitable, woefully inadequate!).

In the opening minutes neither team appeared particularly comfortable, both taking some time to settle. Crawford and Linn combined well after about four minutes but the Boaby's effort isnae even worth talkin' about (so, ah'm sorry ah mentioned it, wee man). A few minutes later we appeared to have carved out a more promising opportunity when Lloyd Young's long crossfield pass beat the Lichties' offside trap and left Div Muir in plenty of space at the edge of the box. He probably had more time than he realised so although his first time effort looked good enough, the ball rattled well wide.

We huffed and puffed for the remainder of the half but created very little. At the other end, traffic was a bit more one way. They never really looked like scoring but that was more down to their shitey finishing than any great defensive display by the Fife. Don't get me wrong, Smarty et al were working as hard as they always do - it just all appeared to be a bit disjointed when the defence tried to combine with the midfield. It was noticeable that neither Shaun Fagan nor Lloyd Young were quite as sharp as they have been in recent weeks.

With the indecision in our defence, Arbroath had more time than they should have expected. On the twenty minute mark Steve Hislop had a great opportunity to open the scoring when he rose, unchallenged, to meet Lunan's fine cross. He appeared to have only to pick which corner of the net it was going to bang it into but somehow allowed the ball to balloon aff his napper and end up nearer the corner flag than the back of the net.

It was the same story ten minutes before the break when Arbroath counter attacked at pace and wrong footed the entire Fife side. The only question to ask was who was going to pop it away. Thankfully for us, the opportunity fell to Hislop whose pitiful attempt once again threatened to upend the corner flag rather than embarrass the keeper with his finishing. It was a shocking miss and begged the question of whether Leona had anything in her wee bag of tricks that would do something about the striker's blushes.

Whatever she was packin' it was more than enough tae tempt Barry Sellars back to the dugoot just a minute before half time. The tackle looked inoccuous enough but that was to be the last of it for today for the mighty midfielder. He looked fair cosy as he schmoozed up beside Leona but soon realised his mistake when just a minute after limping from the field, the cheat was bringing things to a halt and he'd lost his chance. Daft fucker should have waited until a minute after the break - a woman like Leona needs to be wooed and that takes a good forty minutes.... You can be certain she'd have been less than impressed with a beaker of weak tea and a chocolate hobnob back in the dressing room.

But apparently, the biccies did just the job for the rest of the team. Right from the off, McGlashan's mob were up for it and were soon looking dangerous in front of the Fife goal. After five minutes, Jay Smart did well to clear the ball for a corner (the Arbroath forward was also hit so hard he nearly ended up in the car park). Our defending from the kick, however, was far less accomplished - a straightforward near post cross, an even more straightforward header from substitute Robbie Ross and Mike Broon scrabbling about in no-man's-land while the ball nestled in the back of the net. To say it was too easy would insult the long etymological traditions of the word 'easy'. Fuckin' bollox better described it.

However, the reaction from the boys was far from bollookas. Right from the re-start we powered forward looking for a speedy response; and were to find a perfect answer less than five minutes later. Risking a nosebleed from being so far up the pitch, John Ovenstone launched a long throw into the box and... well, it looked harmless enough, a ball just waiting to be hoofed clear by big Robbie or one of his pals. But no, on it soared, bounced on the penalty spot, cleverly evaded more defenders and eventually fell to the feet of the Craw. Kaboom - nae probs for the skipper who blasted it into the empty net from all of three yards out. Ah think he enjoyed it...

And finally we had a game on our hands. It had been a while coming (and even the distraction of the belle Leona was starting to wear a bit thin...) but with half an hour left, it all looked far more promising than it had so far. We tried to maintain our momentum and pressed forward; sadly, the next chance we created fell to Jay Smart rather than one of the forwards and the big defender was found wanting (that's all I want to say about it). In spite of the miss, however, we did appear to be far more comfortable. The Lichties were still enjoying plenty of possession but so long as Hyslop was on the park, we'd have been as well just sending the keeper home - Steve, you are fuckin' rank rotten, by the way...

Twenty minutes from time, the Craw made what almost turned out to be an inspired substitution. Linn trotted off to well earned applause and was replaced by young Jordyn Sheerin who appeared to be positively chompin' at the bit. Less than sixty seconds later the youngster had the opportunity to grab a cracker of a goal and win all three points. The ball had been fired hopefully upfield towards the Arbroath box; that soon transpired to be an awsome choice (bring back the long ball game...) and the Lichties' defence simply froze in the presence of Sheerin. The big lad powered his way past his marker, the ball fell into his path and he scooped it beyond the flailing arms of their dispairing keeper - only to see it agonisingly just past the stand side post. Pish!

At the other end, Arbroath continued to make loads of room for themselves but just as consistently created fuck all of any consequence. Right up until the seventy fifth minute anyway when they finally got a shot on target. At which time, of course, Mr Thomson's baws took a whistle stop tour of his lower abdomen. Give him his due, when Brian had worked his magic he battled honourably on for anothe five minutes before he finally succumbed to the inevitable and limped heroically from the park. At last, a genuine injury to the knackers but neither he nor sexy wee Leona appeared in the least bit interested. She'd had a quieter second half, making just the one foray onto the park, but still looked the biz ... Sorry Brian, but burds wi' sponges has got to be the future.

In the meantime however, we had to be content with our home made future. Young Stuart Cargill got ten minutes to show us what he's made of and immediately settled, pushing the tiring Arbroath defenders back before firing off a sharp effort from just inside the box - he was unfortunate not to do better. Not as unfortunate as Mark Staunton, mind. He'd been on the pitch barely ten minutes when he must've seen his whole life flash in front of him. Way at the far end (or "Cameron Corner" as I'm wont to call it), there appeared to be nothing much for anyone to be worrying about. Staunton picked up the ball and looked to fire his clearance forward.

He was never to make contact with the ball though, as the Lichties' goal hero, Ross, lost the place, forgot that there were seven hundred witnesses and clobbered the young Fifer with such venom you'd have thought Marky had been trying to clear the ball upfield following another inoccuous Arbroath attack. The cheat was barely ten feet away and had no hesitation in whipping out the red card and giving Ross his marching orders. It was a disgraceful tackle and one that would have been even worse had ah actually seen it. He absolutely deserved to go.

But with only ninety seconds remaining there was scance time left for us to take advantage of the extra man. The time ran out and the cheat brought things to a close shortly afterwards. Some confusion for me and Mr C behind the goal; looked to us like the ref had sent off Rob Campbell but, as it turned oot, the big winger was just dying for a pish and headed up the tunnel as soon as the ref blew for time.

So everyone had to be satisfied with the single point. Overall, ah guess it wasnae a bad result - the league leaders (there's a name you never thought would mean "Arbroath") will feel aggrieved not to have picked up all three but, like ah said... Steve Hyslop. Ah hope that Cowdengelly have got someone just like him. Mind, fae what ah heard, they've got a whole fuckin' team full of them. A bucket load awaits next Saturday so let's get behind the boys again and watch you don't catch anything from the fans who make their way from deepest ShagYerSisterVille...

C'mon the Fife!