Three weeks can be a long time in football. It can be an even longer time when there is not football. The break had seen the Corinthians squad strength ebb and flow like the quality of BBC broadcasting, but with far less public interest.
Thursday at 18:45 the day finally arrived for the re-acquainting of old friends and the unifying of the bond of underlying talent that all the champions so unselfishly share, more momentous than the ghoulish reanimation of Christ (some call it the resurrection), but more casually dealt with than Manchester United winning the league cup.
However what should have been a slick process of turning up, adorning the baby blue victory jersey and administering the routine brutalizing of the young Attlee opponents rapidly turned into a comedic shambles, an embarrassment of anecdotal riches.
The line up, Finnegan, Cenamor, Lewis, Gomez and new signing Patrick Gallagher.
Finnegan and Lewis were obstructed in transit. Finnegan was concerned that his flashy red boots may prove an over egging of his perceived flair and ability so with time on their side the duo hit the shops in a less glamorous Sex in the City montage, Finnegan playing Sarah Jessica Parker (by request).
As time slipped away a dash for the tube that would have resolved the issue was met with wild ineptitude as incapable of navigating the process of staying still for long enough to reach the destination, Lewis inexplicably leapt of the train, afraid of contracting..tube-urculosis from the tightly packed public.
Luckily, Lewis knew the way to the ground...simply turn down the wrong street and navigate an elaborate and unnecessary walk up to Tower hill and back down to Aldgate. Simple.
The Corinthians fined a 1-0 deficit, Lewis and Finnegan rushed to get ready.
Incapable of even this simple exchange of one set of attire for another, the situation spiked into the ridiculous when a moment of self realisation unearthed the following reality:
I was standing in the middle of a men’s changing room in just my boxers and socks, struggling to undo the cufflinks of a topless Finnegan who had locked his hands into his shirt with an ill chosen attempt to pull the shirt off without undoing the cuffs.
If my mother had walked in I would have been disowned.
If a 1940's Nazi had walked in I would have been instantly shot dead.
If Steven Hawking had walked in, he would have just been showing off his miracle cure.
Finally, the game kicked off. Except it wasn't against 5 skillful yet under developed 14 year old Asian urbanites....it was against 5 very effectively developed, salivating savages, convinced that the white man had come to plunder their women.
Initially there were some fine performances all round, skilful exchanges between the Corinthians and solid, energetic tackling when defending.
Cenamor ensured that the equaliser was quickly found and in no time the Corinthians lead 2-1. It was notable that the opposition had developed a penchant for the hand off, the kick in the back of the leg and the thudding crunch into a side wall though, which as the Corinthians tired began to wear on their nerves.
With fatigue setting in, Attlee grabbed an equaliser which galvanised them into believing that victory was in sight. Quick exchanges and well positioned runs kept them on the back foot but on occasion, a lacklustre defensive effort would leave Gomez exposed. Preferring only to expose himself in urban back alleys' on a weekend, he did a fine job of keeping the scores level.
Then a 3-2 lead was opened up, which lead to a further escalation of violence and an eventual sin bin for one body odorous bearded member of Attlee.
Eventually, including goals from Gallagher and Finnegan, the scores were poised at 4-3 and time was ticking away. The Corinthians looked shaky though, Cenamor literally dragging his lungs behind him like dog that didn't fancy going for a walk. Lewis resorting to positional delegation and weakly being nudged off the ball, Gallagher sensing the rise in tensions was looking to calm the team and Finnegan had begun a slow process of taking personal issue with the personal hygiene challenged bearded chap.
Suddenly a rucus exploded between Finnegan and Mohammed el Beard and face slapping was in evidence. Naturally the teams ran in to calm the situation, though one of the Attlee players, closer resembling 'The Thing' from the fantastic 4 than an actual human, got up a pace that belied his build then forgetting that he was playing football at a community centre and not cage fighting for the world championship, an easy mistake to make, grabbed an unsuspecting Finnegan from behind and administered the type of WWF sleeper hold that all teenage boys circa 1994 tried and failed to administer to anyone that came to hand.
Gradually a sense of the situation came upon us all. He wasn't going to let go. He was going to kill Finnegan. Headlines raced before our eyes as Asian/Irish relations looked doomed to be placed under international scrutiny.
'Irishman butchered on the field of play by local Asian activist'.
Corinthian protests were met with the call,
"What does he think he's doing? This is home turf blood"
Quite right too.
As Finnegan slipped into unconsciousness and 'The Thing' accepted his inevitable banishment, I noticed that there was a man taking professional photographs at the side of the pitch.
Presumably the cash strapped community centre in a bid to secure further funding wanted to create a presentation including visual evidence of the local integration propagated by the 5-aside project.
Instead he left with an arm full of photographs of an Asian man strangling a Middle class white man to death...whilst wearing shorts.
Perhaps he had been witness to the sexually confusing cufflink incident earlier in the episode and it had suddenly snapped his simple mind? That, we could all understand.
Understandably this left the final 5 minutes to be quite a tense atmosphere. Attlee equalised, and promptly celebrated as if they had just received conclusive evidence that Christian Jesus wasn't real.
Always quietly confident though, the surviving Corinthians battled for the honour of the now deceased Finnegan and Cenamor managed one last gasping wheezing effort, and the game was won. A roar greeted the 5-4 score line and MBE's are in the post for all concerned.
A letter of commiseration is being Drafted for Mr & Mrs Finnegan, who will be comforted to know that their son died fighting for his religion on a foreign field.
For God, For Country, For Finnegan.
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