A masterclass for students of the beautiful game

DSPAFC Hotspur 16 Goners of Benetton Utd 5
att. 63, 247


If this was a cook-off, the DSAFC line-up would have had Gordon Ramsay in mid-field, J. Oliver on the flanks, Nigella in the engine room, Anthony Worrell Thompson ‘tween the sticks, Keith Floyd in attack and Delia Smith as player manager. What a culinary delight we had. The taste buds were tingled and toyed with for the full 90.
The 8’o clock kick off was looking unlikely at 8’o clock, a mere 3 were present and amidst internet confusion and it being the end of the transfer window it was looking ominous. But as ever through the London mist they appeared like overpaid pampered clothes horses in their splendour.

A formation of 4 v 5 was quickly arranged through the old favourite whites the visitors/off whites the home side. At the off Campellese questioned the numerical makeup and had a brief mid-field banter filled chat with his marker Conngiggskï. “We may need to do the old school half time shuffle”, or something of that ilk. He had fear in his eyes as he saw what was potentially a one horse race.

Pitch No 2 were brave, but noticing our ability, requested a match-off. They were men-down and asked for a game. We looked around and saw what could have been a situation.
“Grow up and watch and learn” was the holler from Waddolucci.
“Come back in 10 years” was the general consensus from the rest. It’s great to see the youth witnessing such glory week-in-week-out, but really we did them a favour, allowing their game to develop at its own pace rather than subject them to the humiliation of a lesson in how it’s done from us.

That horse – erm... horse? - became a beast of a foursome.
Early doors the 5 took hold of the game. A couple up and the whites sat back to admire their superior number and ability, only for the 4 to take advantage of the stall they set out early doors. The stall in question was doing a roaring trade, best Nanas, Pomegranates and 2 for a pound the lot was being screamed throughout the crowd. It was ON!

Before the 5 knew it they were 6-2 down. The mighty 4 had speed, agility and the heads did not drop. Unlike the famous 5 when pudding was withheld after their new shoes had got scraped on the garden wall as they solved a mystery. Sulking, petulant cursing and the rest were soon to follow. Aderonski was singled out for some rough treatment as the clock ticked away, while Gizzabaldi was subjected to an off-the-ball incident not seen by referee Jorge Satantango. Clashing with Conngiggskï on the edge of the D, a minor scuffle soon turned into a full-scale fracas. Both players were lucky not to take an early bath.

The 4 DSAFC were on fire. The Health and Safety chiefs were on standby. As Hoddle is my witness they were showing all in the last week of the window transfer what they were made of. Stern stuff is all I can say.
Keegan, who has been having lengthy talks with midfield supremo Wolfkaiser, allegedly, re. the possible Director of football position, was notably missing.
Still no sign of those pins in midfield.

The flair of the 4 was at times supernatural. Gizzabaldi having the game not only of his life, but of his dreams. His recent detox, coupled with his more recent tampering with retox (in a controlled environment), have paid dividends. What a cocktail of sublime tinkering. He appeared to have had adhesive substances on his shooting boot this night. It clung to his pegs like a limpet. He danced around the field, shimmied, shuffled and like the great Barry Scott would say Cillit Bang TM. He banged he banged, oh baby he moved he moved, Sorry I moved onto Rikki Martin .It was poetry in motion. Bang went the sphere, he converted from every conceivable angle, bagging a quadruple brace or a 2 and 2/3 hat-trick.

Al Kinghali along with his teammates had a funfair. The talk of the night was the new tactic in the DSPAFC display cabinet of technical excellence. Oh yes, bring on Mr Whippy. Scoop? One scoop or two? And a 99 to boot. Add to that a few hundreds and thousands, and what about a dash or two of raspberry sauce, and you have about the size of it. And still change out of a five pound note for all those who had come through the Arena turnstiles to gorge themselves on this wafer and ice confection.

But as ever the downfall of the ascendant team came to haunt. What followed was a display of showboating which even Berbatov would have been embarrassed by. The adhesive glue which Gizzabaldi had been used to appeared to have been sniffed by all and he was lucky not to be cautioned for attempting a back heel when he was clean through and facing the other way to begin with. They could not kill off the game. Being 15-3 ahead, the game was there for the taking, with 5 minutes to go.

PotM went, by unanimous decision, to Gizzabaldi. However on this display of fighting for his cause, corner and every corner, Al Kinghali is the recipient of a new award, the Keown (sticker). His rapid-fire tackling in the 85th minute left a trail of overturned Goners from centre circle to D as he singlefootedly demolished the last remaining hopes of the equaliser.

With Waddolucci claiming that a curse had been put on the diamond geezer (see below) formation of the visitors, and evidence of strange magnetic forces (or perhaps magpies) operative in the vicinity of the home D., Gilesihno still celebrating after recent events in north London, Jay-Jay Lohmann thwarted by the flat back 4 of the home side and distracted by the flat pack 4 of his recent trip to IKEA, and Garrattino led into an offside trap of his own construction, things were not going to go according to the ‘romance of the cup’ scenario. With half the production team on that particular show off doing charity work and several central characters still playing their part in the Tyneside pantomime, or else playing a key behind-the-scenes role in the Wearside revival, it will be hard for them to take any pluses away from this one.

A press release from W. Wolfkaiser: "No doubt the press will claim to see right through the club's official statement that I'm left out of the squad due to light calf strain and speculate about an impending transfer to Tyneside. I would like to take this opportunity to clarify that the pictures of me with Kevin Keegan that appeared in the tabloids today were taken in a night club where I met the Mighty Mouse on a purely social occasion." The editorial team at the blog have been passed on this official press release but I cannot guarantee that the media will not exploit ambiguities in the statement. Wolfkaiser's longstanding friendship with Dennis Wise is of course not going to help matters. The Keeganwolfwaiser (as the tabloids are calling it) dreamteam speculation has sent the Geordie Nation into a spin not seen since the days of Jimmy Nail's number one. "I should be so good for you". Or was that the hit by his former Peckham neighbour, Delboy Trotter? Or Rodders? Answers on a postcard but the sentiment is apt whatever anyone's postcard says.

DSPAFC find inner Ipanema in North Dulwich

Many facets of the beautiful game were on display on this windswept eve. From the west it looked like an embarrassment of riches; from the east a pandora’s box; from the north a midfield melée from 1982 and from the south a wonderfully threaded pass beating the off-side trap of days of yore. But from the north-east came a gale that would have caused lesser mortals to stay home with a cuppa and a couple of Holby re-runs. No wintry conditions however could deter these champions of the sphere from showing form, grace and determination.

What a turn out, not only in their newly acquired attire (as mentioned last week) but in number and spirit. A healthy amount of pros were ready for the 8’o clock call and the rest were not too far behind. The crowd were bouncin’. It was ON!

Jean-Michel Turnbulletin in particular was looking keen. He was throwing shapes, jivin’ and body poppin’ each time the ball of dreams entered his personal space, and that was before the off. He had a determination after kick-off which would unhinge any defence in the league.

Controversy was rife early doors and make no mistake. A full squad of eager sportsmen at the ready and no bibs, not to mention no golden gloves. The usual plan B came into play. Whites/off whites Vs the Benetton Colors.

It didn’t tally. For the first time in the history of DSPAFC the theory of the number of light coloured purchased t-shirts of the sort found in the wardrobe of the average player equalling the number of multi-coloured garments purchased by the rest did not weigh up. Numberswise that is.

Conngiggskï had to give up his newly sponsored personalised shirt to Roperaroo.
The confusion which followed was uneasy but brief, for the whites/off whites, apart from Conngiggskï himself who could not pass either to himself or his doppelganger, “the wolf of goals in my clothing” as he later, somewhat incomprehensibly, put it. The emperor’s new clothes, so to speak, the situation was his undoing.

The formation of 6v5 was not new by any means, “au contraire” as Turnbulletin observed, but this night there was not only a new signing on a Bosman - Seve Ballllllllllsterian signed from Rotherham - but also a steely determined vibe which shook the stand’s foundations.

An early lead from the flashy 5 was soon to lead to a further flashy extension lead from the 5. They were all over the higher number and make no mistake. The only mistake being, as per usual, complacency.

Conngiggskï took hold, metaphorically, of the match ball, only for it to be retracted after his dismal stint ‘tween the sticks. 4 goals in as many minutes. At least he scored the same number at the other end. Gizzabaldi had an equally prosperous time on the offence with 4, but he too fell victim to the showboating goalkeeping stunts that have occasionally marred his handiwork in the ‘D’. The young hot shot from the north soon read him like a book. He had him cover to cover, done and dustjacked in a trice. Dive early and you will pay the price.

The new Keeganesque messiah signing showed all the signs of a real gem. Our inside reporter, inside a locker, in the locker room of the Arena, overheard him stating, post-match, that “the universal language of football” was the main means of communication in evidence at the spectacle he had just helped to ignite. How true!!!!!!!!!

With minutes ticking away to a 10-9 victory for the home team, it was Alamo central with Roperaroo resorting to route one football, trips by Gilesinho to the corner flag and possession football led by Garrattino straight out of the top drawer. Consternation as referee Jorge Satantango penalises Roperaroo for handling outside the D. He points for an indirect free-kick and Turnbulletin doesn’t need to be asked twice to turn it into the inviting sac d’oignons. Remonstrating with the referee, Aderonskï is cautioned. But it’s just the incentive he needs singlehandedly to pick the game up by the scruff of the neck and drag his team back. Oops not for long. 10-11 in favour of the visitors. They don’t call him King Sunny Ade for nothing. Two goals at the death seal it for the home side. A strike force unrivalled by all but that at “the Lane” took a step back to allow Aderonskï to boss the park. 12-11. As the bossa nova rhythms kicked in, he put on a display of Ipanema karaoke in celebration. The crowd, of course, went "Ahhh."

The forestry commission are looking into complaints, as the robust tree trunks and maturing pine saplings which were ever present all season in mid-field were lacking. Environmental groups are said to looking into why such a green belt was destroyed, as if overnight. The middle of the park was, as a consequence, carnivalesque, a bull run, a feast for any forward thinking forward with a forward-thinking mind. Such nights are made for the likes of Jay-Jay Lohmann and Al Kinghali. They queued up like urchins outside the January sales or compulsive podders outside Apple’s London HQ eager to convert the cash of their team’s hard-won scoring chances into the sofa or podphone of goals. But gravity, wind, voodoo and vindaloo seemed to conspire against them as mysterious near and far misses heaped on the agony for the visitors.

The excuses of the teams being depleted by the African Cup of Nations and transfer issues were numbed by what was on offer. A goal fest. An exhibition game, within a testimonial, within a game of dreams. Basically, a kaleidoscope of folly along with a thunderstorm of brilliance. It was a game which reached high levels on the Enjoyometer TM scale without giving too much to shout about. A game of many facets.

Conngiggskï having found a new robust approach to the game, clearly took out Coweyscatsi late doors, to the screams of the away crowd, who called for his head, in red. Never one to turn the other cheek ‘Giggskï seemed to relish his revenge, but then a bit of relish always comes in handy when that particular plate is served up, as it was tonight, cold. However, in Keano style, the ex-SundIreland winger took his hand and said, “I would have done the same”. What a pro, what a gent, what a gem in the tiara of the clubhouse cabinet.

Marmite PotM has to go to the Golden Booted J.-M. Turnbulletin. The fella (or garçon as he would say himself) has a gift which could not be diminished by any amount of post-match-analysis and slo-mo. Using these marvels of the modern world we can break down his contribution into three categories: twist, turn and shout. Modelling his tactics on a combination of several mid-50s rock n’ rollers and the forward play of the likes of Derek Doogan and Mike Summerbee, he twists from the hip, turns from the torso and lets the ball do the shouting as it whizzes its way into net past the keeper like a mosquito. At the final whistle he was presented the match ball for his 4-goal salvo only to be instantly refused the honour of taking it home, as the ball itself belonged to pitch number 3. The official ball was later retrieved in due course by Conngiggskï who had been responsible for the sole skied effort of the night. A record for the season, and it was off the thigh. Another one for Garth Crooks to mull over. All this as yet another name enters the player-manager hat

Players see darkly through transfer window

Well readers it seems to one and all that the transfer window has had an effect on all of DSPAFC and Monday night showed it in all its crystal clear double glazing glory. It was again a treat for all ages and one which will be remembered for an age.
A lot can happen in a week of the funny old game and this week was no exception. Not only were the numbers reversed, a 5v6 to a 6v5, but the teams ended up staring themselves in the mirror as through a glass darkly. We had a game not of two halves but of two weeks, with the core of DSPAFC’s first choice players of last week now signed for Colors of Benetton Utd and vice-versa. They say in football that a week is a long time. Well double that and here is what you get. Not that it lasted that long.

After the blog-ollocking which the team received via the internet from DSPAFC supremo Makkapakka McClaren, last week, the full squad made a much bigger impact not only on the hallowed turf, but in their timekeeping. At the time of the off, we were nearly off. It was ON!

There was a keenness about these athletes which some believe had been absent in recent times. Sure they look the part in their new kit, python-skin boots and the rest (not to mention Al Kinghali’s fetching scarf) but this week they played their part too. Eyes were focused. Their feet were another matter, but the warm up was bright and positive, wise-cracking, back-slapping and repartee straight out of the top drawer.

Despite Tabloid talk of possible point deduction and the administrators being called in, we welcomed back the player-team-treasurer Aderonskï, from a self-inflicted injury, sustained, some say, while fighting his way out of the club’s financial difficulties. He brought back not only his banter and skills, but also the piggy bank to which he has received several donations for the future survival of the club. (All donations have been passed on to the financial director and have been made for the sole purpose of the survival and development of the club).

The match itself was lively even before the off. Gizzabaldi picking his peeps for the game and taking on the complexities of selection for a 5v6 encounter. Colors of Benetton Utd v the Bibbers DSPAFC. As with last week the underdogs took the lead early doors, despite them being a player down. The windows of opportunity were numerous and they seemed to take each one in their stride. As the window analogy strained, the keeper rolled up his sleeves and got out his squeegie. He sprayed some windowlene passes and the vision in midfield greatly improved, while the strikers popped out of velux windows all over the final third to cause the Utd defence to open like a set of concertina doors, allowing their leaded stained glass window of a goal to be peppered with 5 in the first 23mins.

Memories of their demise from last week returned to these seasoned pros and they battened down the hatches for the torrent of attack which we all knew was forecast. Roperaroo had been preparing this cold front all week and as he unleashed a 25 yard screamer from the flanks DSPAFC knew there was going to be a storm to weather in the second half. When Gizzabaldi took over the gloves after the interval things took a turn for the worse. Through Cowescatsi and Gilesinho’s formidable Keegan n’ Tosh/Torvill and Dean/Archibald and... erm...Jones two-pronged attack and the effervescent Campellese playing just behind the front two, DSPAFC had taken a 7-1 lead at the interval but few in the crowd could have predicted the catalogue of embarrassments which was to follow. Two Carsons and a couple of Robinsons from Gizzabaldi’s stint between the posts in a 10 minute onslaught saw the swagger return to Colours of Benetton Utd, as they paraded around the arena in their eye-catching home pastel kit.

The goal tally at this point was almost equal to the totted up skying of the match ball, the likes of which we had never before seen. Pre match we had at least two. Another forced Jay-Jay Lohmann to take to his bike to retrieve it and several mid match made the fourth official’s game a confused one with the change of match ball every 4mins.

Coweyscatsi had a blinding return to form much like his hometown team SundIreland. Keano’s influence has made its way down south and he rightly left the field with the match ball. (No one really knows which one but it was the one they did not sky in the final late doors of the encounter). His only fault saw him miss a very very rare penalty. The ever vocal El Darrylinho appeared to have constructed an impregnable conservatory around his goal and made himself big, dancing and effin’ and jeffin’ to put off the seasoned pro. It worked but alas it was not enough. Darrylinho continued his coaching throughout with hollers of: “Back Door”, “Man On”, “Jockey”, "Track Back" and “make some Fu-king Kung-Fu space”. Oh the crowd loved it, especially the under 8’s who had received free passes for the school outing.

Coweyscatsi again appeared to have had further lessons in the Martial Arts and his Shaolin Soccer, wire enhanced, sliding tackle appeared again. Al Kinghali bore the brunt of it and Hansen, Lorro and Barnes all agreed that the media-savvy pro was lucky to not be cautioned. Again world-renowned referee Jorge Satantango saw nothing, his detox still not having given him that clarity both Gizzabaldi and Darrylinho dream of as they peruse the alcohol-free wine-list at the pavilion. 7-5 at the whistle.

Pavilion talk was brief, mainly detox and the Feb Retox. Lee Sharpe and hair products. Marmite MotM by unanimous decision went to C. Coweyscatsi.

Transfer possibilities and managerial unrest featured in the punditry. In: Sheringham, Lee Sharpe and Ginola. All have great hair and are player-manager material. With Makkapakka McClaren still refusing to give team talks except through powerpoint presentations and pre-recorded video, and insisting on conducting his preparation for big matches exclusively through Facebook, DSPAFC's directors are looking to bring back the feelgood factor. They have however told Shearer he can get lost. The hair has got to be right for the job. Gizzabaldi, last week told by DSPAFC that he is surplus to requirements and free to leave the club was snapped during the week by the paps checking out Chinese remedies. What has the modern game come to when a receding hairline is taken as an early indicator of relegation? Jol, Rafa, Gizzabaldi...who’s next for the axe?

Teddy endorses DSPAFC New Year regime

"I support the DSPAFC squad in all their New Year resolutions," Teddy Sheringham had revealed when Constantin Conngiggskï caught up with the seasoned (with oregano and other herbs) pro at Colchester’s pre-FA cup Third Round tie buffet. They could have done with the journeyman footballing legend, in his post “dentist’s chair” incarnation at any rate, this evening!

Consternation characterised the first fixture of 2008. With the crowd growing restless as minutes ticked by to 8.20 the official kick-off time was a distant memory by the time the teams exchanged pennants and the captains mumbled their barbed new year wishes. It was ON! Better late than never, but only just. Come on DSPAFC, think of your supporters. Kick-off 8.00pm! The match when it did start began as 2007 ended with Gizzabaldi side-footing the ball past the advancing visiting keeper. As the defence scratched their collective head and wondered if they had in fact linked arms and joined in ‘Old Lang Syne’ with Jools and the rest of the Hootenannies, and whether, rather, they were reliving the nightmare finish to the previous year, they came to their senses and realised that the television programme had in fact been recorded in October. This realisation brought scant relief, however, as at that point their season was full of hope, the collective thought bubble out of the collective head revealing at that time a selection of silverware and bonus money in pounds sterling, euros and all major currencies. By the time they had picked themselves up they were 4 goals down to the rampaging DSPAFC. The home team had themselves been dealt a setback early doors, with star midfielder King Sunny Ade Aderonskï sending news to the Arena about a “freak accident” said to have taken place the night before outside a Leicester Square watering hole. Speculation was rife that Aderonskï had broken the 36 hour curfew on drinking strictly enforced by DSPAFC supremo Makkapakka McClaren. His mishap on the pavement led to the predictable tabloid headline “Kerb your enthusiasm: tipsy Aderonskï’s night on tiles goes topsy turvy”.

Further astonishment lay in store as the home side’s fifth goal was not registered by the scoreboard and was only reinstated after French legend Jean-Michel Turnbulletin put away his 7th goal of the night. That this missing goal was a breathtaking garyowen-inspired “kick ‘n’ sprint (50 yards) ‘n’ tip” past the keeper solo effort by Garrattino only compounded the home side’s anger as they protested to referee Jorge Satantango, the fourth official and stadium officials.

Something was afoot. Could it have been the transfer window force-field created by the lines crossed as Robbie Savage and Nicholas Anelka passed each other at junction 21 on the M1? Nobody is sure but as the visiting team stretched their lead from 7-5 to 15-5 DSPAFC were subjected to taunts from the crowd, their manager repairing early doors to the pavilion. Referee Jorge Satantango did not seem his usual self. One wag suggested that his Marlboro Lights habit (10 a day like Gianluca Vialli), which the official had managed to quit following his ejection from the Big Brother: Celebrity Hijack show just in time to be allocated tonight’s fixture, had clouded his judgement and that he singled out known smokers, much like Zinedine Zidane, to bear the brunt of his withdrawal symptoms. As Conngiggskï, a player very much in the Zidane mould (regularly snapped by the paps outside the pavilion having a rollie), hit the decks after a series of wayward tackles, of the sort recommended by Alan Hansen to Tottenham Hotspur but taken a bit too far as seen on MotD, it was easy to be persuaded to this way of thinking. Get some patches Satantango! Adding insult to injury the groggy-headed official satisfied his craving for nicotine by breathing in instead the air of DSPAFC fans’ disgust as he called a series of debatable high balls, handballs and other “infringements”. Appeals by DSPAFC following Coweyscatsi's "Shaolin Soccer-style mawashi geri wire-assisted traversal of the pitch" (to quote teammate Turnbulletin) to flatten Garrattino with an illegal flying mawashi geri were waved away by referee Jorge Satantango. "I saw nothing," said the referee after the match, "although video playback shows evidence of a wire apparatus to which Coweyscatsi may have been attached during the alleged incident, which I did not see."

This of course is to take nothing away from the visiting team, and especially 10-goal Turnbulletin, whose 12 week absence seemed only to add to his accuracy. Gilesinho unveiled a pair of custom made boots. Their apparently elfin proportions were a decoy, however, as they expanded and contracted depending on the run of play. The botox-enhanced carapace of the boot (fashioned from the same python as the handbag of a top footballer’s wife) was surely responsible for at least 80% of one of his audacious finishes this evening, while the Celebrates! TM enzymes that are released upon scoring to propel the scorer into a choice of three demonstrations of delight, ranging from the old-style fist in the air leap to the double somersault with baby’s nappy unfurling from the shorts upon landing, also kicked in when he skied the ball with the boots’ first touch during the warm-up. A hiccough which was well timed at the end of the day, you’ve got to say.

Other highlights included the solid tackling of Al Kinghali, a player who had the demeanour of one sitting under the festive tree hoarding the Scalectrix, Subbuteo and Top of the Pops cover version (or, for younger readers, the just as crap Now That’s What I Call Music originals) album all to himself, such was the determination to hold on to the ball. Jay-Jay Lohmann was in and out of the game à la Berbatov, but just like the Bulgarian you can never rule him out. Wolfkaiser treated the game like a stroll in the park with his beloved dog, Sandy. But blasting the ball wide at 15-5 when faced with an open goal and calling out “fetch!” to the home keeper was taking it just a tad too far

DSPAFC can of course do without the negative headlines concerning lager-fuelled mishaps and 10 goal deficits as they prepare for next week’s much anticipated confrontation with the petro-dollar fuelled all-star, steroid-enhanced-ego-bestrewn, globalisation-endorsing Colours of Benetton Utd. The pundits will be reaching for the superlatives as we speak.

Not just an ordinary festive fixture but a DSPAFC festive fixture

This was no ordinary game; it was a succulent, robust, mouth-watering, even tantalisingly mouthwatering D and S AFC football game. Christmas came early for those who braved the winter chill, where the frost was deep and crisp and even, much like the style of play on this memorable eve. The Advent calendars of the players popped open and amazed all. What a feast of football.

The pack of hardy red-nosed stalwarts arrived in their usual casual manner and yet we did field a strong 4v4. They were layered up to the hilt and there was even talk of some wearing the thermals!!!! There were hats, scarves, multiple socks, far-from subtle knitwear was unpacked and well-packed with rippling six-packs; basically it appeared that Christmas had indeed come early. Gilesinho took hold of the situation early doors and called for an Engerland IVs the Rest of the World/DSPAFC selection/wishlist. The overseas representatives bibbed up and took on the 3 Lions. No need for an interpreter here, make no mistake, the only language spoken was the language of football at its most advanced level. The bonding was instantaneous. It was On.

The RotW4 took advantage in the opening minutes, their energy levels being higher - they had obviously planned to unsettle the lions by converting the cold air into hand-warming shots from every point of the compass: the flair was there alright.But they soon became complacent, losing themselves in overindulgent runs, elaborate passing, discarded packaging and generally pissing about. However they were always a threat. Mainly to themselves. Conngiggskï, suffering with a bad dose of man flu, spent most of his time in the back of the 3-1 formation as they battled against the ever-changing Lions shape - sometimes a flat 4 and other times a diamond with a hint of a star on the horizon, leading them to glory or a close one anyway.

It was as ever a tight end with the lions making up for indiscretions early on and moving on the tricky surface like Torvill and Dean in Helsinki, or wherever. Wolfkaiser, however, took on all around him, and as ever his stockings were near to bursting with his gifted legs (what a gift for any team!). But his stuffed stockings were his downfall in missing an open goal, the selection box of an opportunity went a begging as he tried to remote control the ball into the net (watch out next time: batteries not inclued). Again the World 4 went for crowd pleasing above getting results: "appearance over substance" (Anon.). Tis a time for giving and all that but it was soon a case of Pantomime season on the half hour mark. Waddolucci had a jolly time ‘tween the sticks, thwarting multiple opportunities that the world had to sew up the last game of the season. High Ball, "Oh no it wasn’t"; "Backdoor" was replaced with a comical "He’s behind you!". "Never mind the gala dinner, this is a feast in itself", quipped Waddolucci as he skipped down the wing like an elf nipping off down the Lapland Arms while the gaffer slumbered in front of a bumper edition of Opportunity Knocks. It was Heston's perfect Christmas! Nigella's trip down to the festive fridge for a midnight feast. Mmmmmm! Oh the banter was at a new high. No need to take the elastic band off the minitature scroll containing a festive joke or limerick here to have a chuckle. No it was all laid on. "Oh no it wasn't!". Ho ho ho (that's enough now - Ed.)

Goals were too many to mention, to paraphrase the great Mick Hucknell, but Garrattino had a particularly cheeky Eggnog back-heel into the onion sack which will be remembered for all the right reasons. Oh yes it was a peach.

Waddolucci has cancelled his application for his allotment on the flanks after receiving multiple beautifully weighted passes in the open areas and has decided to go the DIY route. He scored a beauty early on but anyone who was there to witness the festive match this evening, saw what could have been THE goal of the season. He took the ball on the move, controlled and let fly with his trusted boot. It was blinding, it was curling, and it had a new home in the top right corner. But it was brushed on to the post and away for a corner by Conngiggskï’s reflex save. All present, including pitch no. 2, fell into a stunned silence, the squirrels glanced from the frosted ground, dropping their nuts, a crow stopped mid flight and fell into the centre circle. Swimmers in the nearby sports centre missed a stroke. It would have, it should have but it wasn’t to be.

On an evening which lived up to its billing on Radio 5 where Coweysqatsi was guest commentator, there were souffle-assisted volleys, intricate diagonal icing on the cake interplay (followed by finishes worthy of a drunken relative who's been sucking the cherry brandy bottle dry while "we're walking in the air" splurges out of the goggle box), plum puddings dispatched into the side netting and slices of cake that went down very well with the home crowd.

It was quite a game with little afters, much like the Gala Dinner, more of which later, or rather now.

The Gala Dinner was also a great success; the players quickly donned their festive football suits and headed to the pavilion. Drinks flowed, well much like any other Monday. The Superfoods were ordered and we had a fine old time. Apart from Wolfkaiser. The backroom nutritionist didn’t agree with his request and so had to wait 40 minutes to get a foodstuff he did not want. But his body is a temple. El Darrylinho, Roperaroo along with Campellese joined the carb-fest, despite having been on the treatment table all week, and regaled all those present with tales of their xmas shopping. What an auspicious sign glimmering in the sky it was that after all the transfers, possible moves abroad, a couple on Bosmans, others on buy-out clauses, that we could all sit down and discuss the season that had been so far, the festive season and the post-seasonal left-overs. Not a turkey in sight but trimmings, baubles and silverware all the way.

Gala Dinner and Awards Ceremony 2007

Dynamo Staropremium AFC Gala Dinner 2007

If the list of squad members reads like a who’s who of extraordinary footballing talent that’s because it is a list of extraordinary footballing talent extracted directly from the top drawer. The gala award ceremony is upon us! And the sticker goes to.....?


King Sunny-Ade Aderonskï
Freser Al-Kinghali
Michelangelo Campellese
Constantin Conngiggskï
Christiano Coweyscatsi
Marcus Garrattino
Gilberto Gilesinho
Gianluca Gizzabaldi
El Darrylinho
Jay-Jay Lohmann
Gianluigi di Parma
Adriano Roperaroo
Kirin Da Silva-Fox
Jean-Michel Turnbulletin
Michelangelo Waddolucci
Wolfgang Wolfkaiser

The ultimate of penultimates

The penultimate game of this long and hard-fought season was a scorcher. It was in the depths of winter but only the onlookers could have sensed any chill. What a night of football we encountered and all could gauge how far we had come. (Well the football correspondent drove from Saffron Waldon but that’s another matter, he’s had worse, East Norfolk comes to mind.) As they entered the players’ carpark the adrenaline was palpable, or tangible, or both, or was it just the output from the exhaust pipes of the array of Dulwich Tractors and Bentley Continentals? Waddolucci set out his stall early doors with a one touch reverse into bay no. 2 while Gizzabaldi – who still insists on driving a second hand saloon despite his rumoured 32 shillings a week contract – opted for a five touch manoeuvre which was, frankly Mr Shankly, a bit of a balls up. The three eager pros, Waddolucci, Wolfkaiser and Darrylinho looked encouragingly keen.
Yes please, bring on 8pm.

As they bibbed up and did the odd 23ft sprint the spirits were high, talk of last week’s encounter with pitch No2 was on the agenda together with the choice of sweet at the Gala Dinner next week. Not to mention dress code and sticker allocation.
They had the by now familiar and healthy 4v5 and it was ON. All cautiously welcomed back Wolfkaiser from his ill-fated but highly publicised move to the Darkside, last week. He had a lot of making up to do. The crowd gave him a muted reception. But he showed his true non-high-visibility colours later on. He knew on which side his bread was buttered. You can’t buy class, you live it and express it where it counts – on the pitch.

The game had a fluidity which we had rarely seen in recent weeks, crisp passes, movement off the ball and a little afters to boot. Oh it was dreamlike at times. The 4 took an early lead, then it was even, then again the lead then level and so on. You the readers know how it works. It ended with a thrilling 12-10, I think. But one could easily call it a draw. Let’s do that! (hey hold on a minute you can’t play God – Ed.)

There was a new found determination amongst some of the crew. Namely Conngiggskï and Aderonskï, who both have felt the influence of Da Silva Fox and Pitch No2 in recent weeks. They went for everything, even lost causes. By the way, in post-match discussion with Conngiggski, he announced himself “flabbergasted” by his lunging sliding goal on the D being disallowed, having only heard of it at the post match. "Bastards" (Anon.).

As mentioned Wolfkaiser won back some of the crowd with his extendable and retractable interceptor-legs as they stopped everything that attempted to bypass them. He doesn't have a Mystic Force Power Ranger named after him for nothing. Aderonskï scored a triple and a half brace (estimate) and was a predator from even a full 43 yards. The five looked at times to be unsure what to do with the extra man. Waddolucci, who in recent times has threatened to build an allotment on the right flank, with the space available, has now got planning permission for three four story apartments on the field of dreams. The service was not there. A “flankless task” one pavilion punter stated.

The injury, or alleged injury, to the returning to form Darrylinho saw him between the sticks for a full 75mins. He was the new protector. The Terminator. The gladiator of the 4. He was the lynchpin in a side intent on seizing the crumbs of a draw from the jaws of the DSPAFC yuletide bird table and fake snow dispenser victory in the making. The 4 were under the sleigh for the final 10mins - it was reminiscent of a works Paintball Day out, with the MD getting pelted from left, right and centre. Our Master of Defence was bruised all over but his pride stayed intact. What a find, what a Jewel in the crown, what a diamond in the rough diamond formation. The names Neville and Southall were invoked, in that order. Nuff said. More please.

DSPAFC stalwarts Garrattino, Lohmann and Al-Kinghali and Waddolucci (the latter like his near namesake, Waddle, in the 1989 FA cup fourth round cup tie shamefully underused, as previously mentioned) all swept forward and sideways together like a Bobby Charlton comb-over, and pounced on the leave-takings of Darrylinho to send the home side’s goal tally into double figures. “Dizzy, I’m so Dizzy” sang the home crowd.

The post match was an interesting one. Only a 5 strong squad, but strong we were. Conversation turned to global warming, Bryan Robson making Merson and Gazza roomies in their Boro days and Paul McGrath having a bodyguard to prevent him from the sauce from Thursday to Saturday, which practice Gizzabaldi immediately adopted by getting rid of any open bottles when we got back to the lodgings.

The pundits analysed the Crown and Greyhound menu and singled out the new signings in the starters and some old favourites in the mains. They had Peacock's Three As: Advancement, Awareness and Ability. The Gala evening approaches: Pasta, Protein, Carbs, horseradish mayo, maris piper chips and alioi, all the trimmings, and plenty of liquids. Nod off with a warm sherry in front of Gabby's speech on MotD3?
Lovely.

The fourth official writes: “On examination of the video evidence and putting at our disposal the latest technology from NASA we are able to reverse the disallowed goal by Conngiggskï, making the end result 10-9. Moreover the controversial decision by referee Jorge Satantango to award a penalty for the handling outside the D by the away team goalkeeper is now adjudged to have been an error. The rebound scored by Gizzabaldi is hereby disallowed, which gives the result of 9-9, making it, as I understand it is known, another classic.”

With his goal reinstated Conngiggskï’s tally rose to a hat-trick and 1/3. For this and his mazy runs (often cleverly disguised as jogs), shots from all angles, and 4 shots off the woodwork he was, by unanimous decision, the official Marmite PotM (sticker). The United keeper lived up to the “Brave Darrylinho” moniker he earned last season with a performance straight out of the top drawer and he is duly awarded a Southall (sticker and hairband). Aderonskï was on a different planet, defying several laws of physics and totted up a goal tally which even the Arena statisticians could not keep track of. We’ll have to dig deep to find a sticker to cover such a performance.

Word on the tabloid street is that DSPAFC are to appeal both of the decisions made by the video referee (the peerless Jorge Satantango will have something to say about it too), while Colours of Benetton Utd, as a result if the overruling by video evidence, now find themselves even on points and on goal difference at the top of the table (as befits two teams often confused with one another). What a situation to be in going in to the last match before the Christmas break.

Like a hungover relative faced with a large festive tin of Quality Street, the pundits will be poring over the contents list to find the good ones, but unlike a large festive tin of Quality Street it’s unlikely they’ll want to discard anything from next week’s selection-box-Christmas-cracker-with-cranberry-sauce-in-the-wide-areas (pending planning permission) yuletide jamboree of festive footballing excellence.