Corinthians 6 - 1 Hawthorn Tomkins

Paul Bryant once said, ‘Show class, have pride and display character. If you do, winning takes care of itself’.

But who was Paul Bryant? He was an American Football coach who wore a hounds tooth hat and generally coached teams that won all the time. He was famed for wearing only one piece of jewelry, a ring that said, ‘the junction boys’ on it.

I am having a giant sovereign ring with ‘the Incisive lads’ emblazoned on it. Presumably when I die of a massive heart attack in a local hospital people will assume that this is some kind of homosexual homage rather than the sense of sentimental loyalty and identity that it was intended to indicate. That will be due to my anonymity, so to avoid it, I intend to die on the grounds of the Attlee community centre, thus appearing more like a hounds tooth hat wearing paedophile and groomer of the less fortunate than simply some old gay man.

You just can’t win.

But the Corinthian can 6-1 in fact.

The usual inauspicious beginnings rang in the air. 4 men, one withered old alchie, one peanut lunged hangover, a walking flu and a goal keeper in the midst of a never ending perpetual party lumbered into the changing rooms, but LO, who should show his rosy face to make up the 5 men, Finnegan, half cut but brimming with enthusiasm.

It took hawthorn just 30 seconds to bag goal number one after a subdued Lewis failed to show sufficient strength losing out to the Hawthorn black cat, mound of muscle who slammed the ball past Gomez.

Creeping doubt was apparent on the blue side of the pitch, but it didn’t last. The lungs may have been wheezing, the legs wobbling, but the natural footballing intelligence of the side in blue shined through…which rhymes.

Sensible defending and fantastic movement and distribution won the day.

The highlights were the relentless fervour of the goal keeper, prompting moans of disbelief from the opposition:

Cenamor’s 4 goals including the nutmeg nearly goal:

Glynn’s modus operandi fake kick at the ball, before the whistle had even gone for the kick to be taken. Unforgiving psychological war fare:

Finnegans unselfish release into the path of Cenamor in a 2 touch each passing movement that went through the entire side.

And finally, the broken shell of man that was Lewis, finally pulling himself together to deliver the killer blow 6 th goal out of nothing.

The celebrations were noticeable, a team that knows it just played incredibly well against the odds.

May it long continue, until the ultimate decline of an anonymous manager in a hounds tooth hat.