Attic overcrowded as Dynamos rewrite classic

Claptonspecialbrew Athletic 8
Dynamo Staropremium AFC 8
Att. 32, 409

A classic, classique, classico: whatever language it was, the general consensus was this was a night of majestical football. The post-match analysis combined with the MotD2 team’s own opinions held this encounter up there with the all time best.

With the season drawing to a close all who took to the field of dreams were playing for their bib. Be it Tangerine or Lime, they invested their vests with the zesty passion we have come to expect of this bunch of citric footballing fruitbowl inhabitants. The mood in the camp has been at an all season high. The banter, the wet towel flicking pre and post match, the text messaging in the final third, have shown a unity and cameraderie which is surpassed only by Spurs' line-dancing spectacular after their Milk Cup glory week at Faces Discotheque.

As the Nolan sisters (later simply the Nolans and a formidable 5-a-side team in their own right) once memorably sang: “Dance...Go on and dance...ooh let’s dance...”. These words seem appropriate on a night when the teams took on the sentiment expressed in the very next line of the song and gave it their all tonight. The squad was strengthened not only in number, but, more importantly, in depth. Those returning from the oxygen tents and the new in vogue method used by Andy Murray, a Steam Yoga session, showed great form and willingness in the challenge. Aderonski and Garrattino sharpened their shooting boots as the evening progressed and the increase in accuracy can be seen throughout the 90 in the adjacent chart. Claptonspecialbrew Athletic, playing at their homeground 'The Attic', and now, in the roundabout of Premiership managerial appointments, under Makkapakka McClaren (who left DSPAFC pocketing a hefty settlement fee, which he added to the wad of cash he trousered in his departure from Colors of Benetton just 5 days into his appointment) may have returned triumphant from their 2-0 victory away to Steaua Bucharest but that doesn’t put the porridge on the table in the more domestic context of the Premiership dining salon with PlaystationTM annex that is today’s game.

The 6v6 option chosen by Juande Vamos this evening was brave. At the off it seemed a tad confusing for those not familiar to this system. Namely all who donned the bib. A 1-4 or a flat 5 stonewall? It changed dramatically throughout, in the ebb and flow of this relentless attack-minded sporting exhibition. A clash of Titans some say. A showcase for the modern game say others. A cornucopia of threaded passes and embroidered doilies in the final third of the pitch say others.
It was on, even before it was ON!

Gizzabaldi set his stall out very early doors: he must have been up at the crack of dawn to prepare himself for his new approach to this game. Before the stonewall rendering had even set itself, he combined with his team-mate (unknown due to your correspondent’s multi-tasking in the home side’s D) to score the goal he had been rehearsing in his mind all season. The sphere sat up, like a puppydog begging to be patted on the noggin; then it became clear what he had here: not a puppy after all but a mouthwatering soufflé, 6 eggs lightly whisked, gas mark 6 for 6 minutes. Fan-assisted, the finest example of home-baking the striker had seen for several years awaited his approval. When he had chosen his next move, it was a possessed strike. The boy had to have sold his soul, to enable him thus to levitate, no strings, and hammer the beast to its doom in the sack of onions/garlic. As it ignited and formed a toxic pool in the corner of Conngiggskï’s goal many could foresee that this was to be no ordinary football game.

Referee Jorge Satatango, the crowd, players and admin staff all stood still for a full 12.4seconds. As if awaiting an action replay on the big screen. Sadly we had to wait till 10.30 BBC7 for that treat. It was very reminiscent of Ronaldinho’s goal on Saturday in La Liga. Youtube, you may well crash once these two gadflies of football get their 60 seconds of fame.

But this was only the beginning. He followed on to get his Striker’s Pure Hat-trick. Left, right and a half bicycle kick.
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It was tight in all areas. The near miss became the norm, with the usual champions of the almost area striking well wide of the mark, sometimes wide of the corner flag. Every ball was contested. Oh what a crowd pleaser. Showboating was at an all time high: stepovers, shimmies, nutmegs, what a night, and all this with a congested mid-field.

The squad and rotation system played their parts. Roperaroo, the solid goal a match insurance policy, again took his opportunity and he too could hold the double sided sticker for goal of the month. It was a feast of feasts. The newly named Ballack Milktraykaiser played his usual flawless game, hollering at his team-mates to fall back. No hang on there not that much. This however became his own decoy, to plant a fine match winning glory goal, to befit any match, on any other day (but would this be such a day?).

Jean-Michel Turnbulletin did not, for a change, get his double figure of deposits in the sac d’oignons. He was kept relatively quiet on the goalscoring front by new signing Michelides in a contest of chess-like complexity. He did however get his just rewards in the end. Twist, turn and, finger to lips to the home-crowd, he let the ball whisper a “don’t mess with me” warning to the home fans. The trademark celebration as he recreated the final scene from episode 27 of Bonanza left the Arena silenced.

Waddolucci had a barn-storming game, not only ‘tween the barks, but on the flanks, Whippet-like running and crisp passing. Yes it was a case of in-in-one in the players’ car-park, just as he had predicted in a pre-match press conference. Another beneficiary of Juande Vamos' attention to nutrition, the urbane attacking midfielder (who would have been called a winger in former times - not his own of course) has reportedly reduced his wine glass size at the pavilion from large to medium. Science has its part to play in the modern game and no mistake!!!! Coweyscatsi masterminded operations from the holding position in midfield, deploying the lexicon of the Bingo hall as code, while Seve Ballesssssterious looked anything but below par, despite a bogey in an edge of the D one-on-one with the bunker patrolled by 'Brylcreme'TM Conngiggski.

In a night of linguistic mayhem “Calamity Jesse James Jennings” Conngiggskï, still nursing a mangled Metatarsal, stayed as Keeper of the Grail for the full 90. He was praised no end for his endeavours and diving saves straight out of the top drawer. However on reflection he has, with “No Dis” to the sponsors, refused his Marmite Sticker. “Basically, having let in 8 on the night, I feel I could have done a bit better. I was looking for a clean sheet, and while I came close I didn't come close enough”.
The challenge of the night was one for the http://www.tacklesofdistinction.com/ scrapbook: Waddolucci tracking back to shoulder Wolfkaiser and edging him off the ball. What a legendary meeting of Ws with a wery wery supwising outcome (surprising for all except that is Juande Vamos and the team nutritionist).

My Gosh it brings back emotions of glee which I cannot compare to any other sporting event since 1965. We, the sponsors, supporters and most of all football itself won on this night of the inevitable draw. 8-8.
“Oh what a night” came up over the tannoy and the dancing began in earnest.

Marmite PotM: step up G. Gizzabaldi, while the Southall (headband and sticker) goes to C. Conngiggski.