My Family And Other Animals

15th Aug 2009: Stenhousemuir 1, East Fife 1 (Barrs Scottish League Division Two)

The forecast was dismal - heavy rain, ferocious winds and sombre conditions expected. As it turned out, by the time me, Mrs FC and the bairn had battled our way through Glasgow (fuck, anyone would think it was the first day of the SPL season), our trip doon the water didnae turn oot too bad - pleasant sunshine, blue skies and a mother just this side of right fuckin' annoying. The rain stayed away but blustery conditions were also to play their part back in Larbert where the mighty Black and Gold were taking on the Warriors in our first away trip of the new season.

Fighting into the gale for the first forty five, our heroes knew they'd be up against it. That didn't stop them starting brightly enough, mind, and, within sixty seconds of the start, the boys were heading forward to test the Stenny defence. Deservedly retaining his place in the starting line-up, Rob Campbell again looked right in the mood when he easily outflanked his marker and whipped over a fierce cross, only to be disappointed to see it end up in the keeper's hands - albeit at the second attempt.

Nonetheless, it was a great opening to the match and showed the Craw's intent of ensuring that our hosts didn't settle. It was a complete pisser, therefore, when they came forward and opened the scoring with virtually their first foray into Fife territory. Well, I say "came forward" and "Fife territory" but the free kick they won was somewhere just inside their own penalty box.

Up stepped Pat Scullion (or "Cybee" as he'd be known in Ayr), defensive stalwart, handsome way beyond Clackmannanshire standards (despite the receding hairline) and always happy tae hoof one fae his own box. Sadly for us, this particular hoof turned intae a screamer, caught on the wind and flew, rapier like, towards our goal. One final wee movement in the breeze ensured that Micky Broon could only sting his finger tips; as the ball bulleted high into the net, the eight dozen home fans went berserk and Scullion took one step back, got caught up in his own net and fell right on his arse. Great goals don't always have tae look glamorous, y'know.

Undaunted, however, Craw's Crusaders knuckled down and fought their way back into the game. Fagan and Lloydie again looked comfortable in the midfield and linked well with the Boaby and Stevie Crawford, who was replacing McManus in today's line-up (Shagger injured?). We were putting some decent passes together but tended to lose it at the last moment, at times simply gifting the ball to our hosts. As it was, our best effort of the first half came from a set play - Bobby Linn trying to repeat his efforts from the last time we visited. His corner kick was perfectly weighted but collected comfortably enough in the end by the Warriors' keeper.

At the other end, the Fife back four were also being kept occupied. For all our control going forward, the home attackers were still finding a way through our midfield and into the Fife box. However, the boys concentrated and kept it together until twenty minutes from time when Jay Smart got in the way of an otherwise innocuous looking effort and left Brown to pull off a fine reflex stop that saved the big centre half's blushes.

That was the wake up call we needed and for the rest of the first half we piled pressure on the Stenny defence. We'd been a bit shot-shy so far but in the closing minutes both Linn and the Nugget came close while young Div Muir will think that he should have done better when getting onto the end of Nipper's cross.

Fair play to Div, however; he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. In the forty third minute he pulled a goal back to level the scores. He was ably assisted by Crawford who'd put on a master class out wide, beating two hapless defenders before forcing a cross from the by-line, leaving nothing more for Div to do than get his nut on the ball and fire it home. It was a cracking goal and well deserved on the balance of play. And coming when it did, the goal surely would bode well for the second period.

Not that second half shenanigans were exactly on my mind at the time. By 3.45 I was just shoving the last of ma ma's home made Yorkshire puddings doon ma face, guzzling the last of the wine and musing to myself that missing the occasional game on a Saturday afternoon mebbe wouldnae be too bad after all. But praise be for ma mother (she still believes in all that shite even if ah don't). Twenty minutes alone wi her was enough tae make me realise that there can surely never be a good excuse for missing the fitba (well, other than your still hormonal wife telling you ye cannae go!). By the time she'd finished wi me, ah'd have even settled for an afternoon oot at the dungheap that is Starks Piggery - aye, it really was that bad.

No' that any of the real fans would have been givin' a shit what ah'd rather be doing. While ah fought aff ma mam, Ozfifer got pissed wi' Nipper's brother and Exile read Mein Kampf for the fifteenth time, they all settled down for forty five minutes with that pesky breeze now at our backs. Now to up the ante and show this mob just what we're made of...

Ahem! Well, no' quite. We certainly still looked accomplished enough in the middle of the park but the longer the game wore on, the more you got the impression that the Warriors were quite happy to let us have possession in the midfield. Certainly, we pressed forward from time to time (the Boaby and Div Muir will both feel they should have done better when offered half chances in front of goal) but the home defence was well organised and coped well throughout. Shaun Fagan was still playing well but lapsed into those old tenacious ways of his; booked in the first half, he was lucky not to be punished more severely in the second.

The Warriors weren't doing too much themselves going forward but, facing the stiff wind, tried their best to play the ball on the ground and at times put together some decent short passing moves. Boosted by our inability to create much, they sensed that there might just be something for their own cause; twenty minutes from time they should have taken the lead. The build-up play was controlled and confident, the cross into the box composed and conclusive. Poetry In Motion had a free header at the back post but his effort was more cack-handed than controlled, more cruddy than composed. Only he will be able to attest to how he somehow put the ball wide. Only he will be hoping that the Stenhousemuir TV man was changing the battery on his camcorder...

With the weather still playing its part but both sides trying to play football, the game sparked into life in the final fifteen minutes. Just moments after their miss, we had an opportunity to enter the miss of the season competition ourselves when Smartie rose well to meet a corner but popped his headed effort just wide of the post. We'll blame the wind and say nae mare aboot it...

The let-off breathed new life into the home side and, cheered on by a small but noisy ragbag of fans, they pressed forward looking to steal all the points. In the final ten minutes they created three clear chances... and spurned them all. Diack looked the business as he cooly sidestepped the keeper only to bang it wide from inside the six yard box when he could have got down on his knees and nodded it in with his heid. His decision to no' risk the header was perhaps vindicated moments later when faced with another clearcut opportunity, he walloped one against the post - he must have a square heid!

Moments later, with Michael Broon still pissing himself laughing, the big keeper contrived to hoof a clearance directly towards Diack (more a shitey clearance than any kind of "here, have another go; you'll still miss...." approach). Acknowledging the fact that he probably couldnae score in a brothel wi a fifty pound note tied roon his nuts, the forward cleverly passed to team-mate, Scott Dalziel, who appeared to have a straightforward job of wrapping up all three points.

Ho, ho, ho - Scotty boy was as profligate in front of goal as his erstwhile buddy. With the Fife keeper out of it and our defence in disarray, the Broxburn Balloon blasted his effort off the crossbar and the rest, as they say... It just wasn't to be. Well maybe...

Linn grabbed the ball and, head doon, chest oot, piled forward (thank fuck the wind was still at our backs, the wee man would've struggled otherwise). Only Lloyd Young and Rob Campbell had enough puff (or enuff pough?) tae keep up but they piled along with the Boaby. His pass, when it came, was met well by Lloyd but, despite beating the keeper, appeared to be off target. Big Rob strode purposefully into the box, knocking defenders and other lesser mortals out of the way before swinging a boot at the ball and blasting it high into the net. The points were won, the Fife victorious.

Well, that was the vision in my mind's eye as ah sat there in front of ma mam's telly, listening to Jeff Stelling and the rest of that shower of hawfwits. Eventually the thick red bar across the fixture confirmed the final score at one apiece. Alas, big Rob's effort, although spectacular (as only a man of such awkward grace can be), ended up firing wide of the post and the chance was lost. Just moments later the whistler brought things to a close, a share of the spoils being just about fair for both teams on a day where only the weather would be happy - three points won for making sure that, in spite of the players' best efforts, you'd have been as well visiting your mother than suffering the wind swept spectacular that unfolded at Ochilview.

But an away point is always a point gained rather than two lost. We remain unbeaten with the next two matches back at Bayview; first against runaway leaders, Arbroath and then the Blue Brazil who, if they can afford the bus fare (and find someone tae read the timetable for them) will be messing up Methil on the twenty ninth. A real chance of six points from those two encounters to continue the great start to the league campaign so far.

C'mon the Fife!