Milton Keynes U7 League
15th March 2008
Great Horwood 5 - 11 Southcott Owls
All the world’s a football pitch and all the boys and girls merely players. They have their exits and their entrances and one player in his time plays many positions. Thus the young gentlemen of Southcott gathered together on the playing fields of Great Horwood to play a deadly and conniving game of football.
“Friends, Owls, Countrymen, lend me your ears,” hollered the Owls’ coach Mistress Johnston. “We come to bury Great Horwood and not to praise them. We must beware the Ides of March; watch your backs and be not afraid. I prithee, play your best; go forth and seek victory. Bring sweet music to my ears!”
Captain Craig Rattray took his place in goal alongside Benedict Turley and Connor James in defence and Jake Sanders and Jamie Hunt in attack. Horwood quickly raced into the Southcott penalty box but were parried well by the defence. The resulting goal kick was picked up by Sanders who blasted it into the right hand corner of the Horwood net. A further clearance from Turley enabled Sanders to fire another winner and soon the squires of Southcott looked like they could be early victors. However, as the end of the first quarter approached The Horwood number 10 made a terrific shot from afar to bring the score to 1-2.
“Rattray, O Rattray wherefore art thou Rattray!” cried Sanders raising his hands to the heavens and swaggering from the field with a sullen disposition.
“Alas, poor Sanders he has become crazed by football,” whispered James to his companions.
“Soft, Sire! Be careful what you say, lest he take vengeance upon you and revenge your most foul and unnatural comment,” replied Turley. “All boys and men should love football; it is the noblest sport of all.”
Returning to the field, Tommy Johnston was now in attack with Sanders. Turley and Rattray had swapped positions and alongside Hunt the team threw themselves into a voracious attack on the Horwood penalty box where a handball from the Horwood defence gave them a penalty.
“I will take the penalty,” cried Hunt drawing out his dagger.
“No, I shall, said Sanders, unsheathing his sword.
“No, it is mine!” cried Johnston, pulling out his vial of poison.
“I shall take the penalty or I will place a curse upon you for a thousand years!” replied Hunt, running at the ball and blasting it with all his might.
“No, no!” wailed Hunt, holding his head in despair as the ball rebounded furiously off the post. “A goal, a goal, my Nintendo for a goal!”
The game continued apace and soon the ball fell at Johnston’s feet.
“Is this a ball I see before me?” he cried in amazement and taking advantage of the opportunity scored with a killer strike.
However, Horwood quickly secured a corner and in the panic that followed the ball glanced off Rattray past Turley for a home goal to bring the score to 2-3.
“A plague upon you Rattray!” cried Turley in undisguised horror. “Off with your head!”
Horwood sensing a sudden affliction in the Southcott defence made a concentrated surge on the Southcott goal. Turley was working flat out to curb the onslaught but the number 10 was on a roll and shot 2 goals past Turley to bring the score to 4-3 at half time.
“There is something rotten in the State of Horwood,” moaned Turley, swinging his mace around vehemently as he made his way over to Mistress Johnston.
“Young men from the House of Southcott, now is the winter of our discontent! You must be vengeful, seek the ball and control it or I will punish you with such odious retributions that only a mother knows,” said Mistress Johnston pulling out her damp tea towel and wooden spoon and brandishing them about her.
The squires returned to the field with Turley and Sanders now in attack ready for battle.
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; or we shall close up the goal with our Southcott dead!” yelled Turley, kicking off to Sanders. Then, passing the ball between them they ran up the field until Sanders was in the penalty box and able to shoot a goal past the keeper to level the score at 4-4.
The pressure was escalating and although Horwood got possession of the ball they could not get past Rattray who was in superb form. In contrast, Southcott took their chances, ran with the ball and by the end of the third quarter Sanders with his speed and agility had outpaced the Horwood defence entirely and had scored a remarkable 5 more goals to being the score to 4-9.
“To play football or not to play it? That is the question,” mused Sanders.
“See, I told you,” said James to his team-mates, “Methinks Sanders has confused thoughts about football.”
“It seems these are dangerous times for Sanders we must encourage to rid himself of these unnatural thoughts,” replied Johnston, “Otherwise my mother will throw him into the dungeons!”
The final quarter commenced with Hunt at full stretch preventing an almost certain goal from the determined Horwood. Turley then took the Horwood defence by surprise with his left foot to score yet another Southcott goal. However, Horwood were resilient adversaries and would not concede; their talented number 10 pounced on a goal kick and whipped it behind Hunt to bring their final tally to 5. But Sanders was still almost inseparable from the ball and scored another fine goal to bring his personal tally to 9. Still Southcott would not relent, and in the closing minutes they secured another penalty and as disquiet broke out amongst the Southcott ranks again Captain Rattray assumed control and took the penalty only for it to disappointingly rebound of the crossbar.
“Alas! Alas!” cried Rattray wringing his hands, “A goal, a goal, my Xbox 360 and Kylie Minogue CD for a goal!”
But before there was time for any more entertainment the whistle blew and the Southcott supporters cheered loudly.
“O happy days! The Heavens have looked favourably upon us!” praised Mrs Johnston. “Sanders you have been supreme and indeed all of you are worthy of Squire of the Match, but it goes to Turley for bravely saving a goal with a part of his anatomy that no man or child should dare!”
Sanders with 9 goals to his credit and clasping the ball seemed content at this decision.
“If football be the food of love, I must play on,” he whispered.
“Son,” said Mrs Sanders, grabbing his hand, “You have been reading far too much Shakespeare, I’m taking you home to watch Thomas the Tank Engine!”