(...or "Why We Wear Red")
Oskar, the Melchester Dog
Desperation hung in the air like a Paul Holland hoofed clearance on Saturday, as only four players arrived at Melchester HQ for that afternoon's crucial tie against Galaxy. Three points were essential to maintain hope of a top half finish, but with league rules requiring at least 5 players, and fifth confirmed man Ali M.I.A., messrs Smith, Mestanek, Kimbrell and Holland were forced to resort to begging calls to other players, to little avail.
One man who heeded the call, however, was Costea, cajoled into playing in goal despite a knee injury, and so it was that Rovers headed off to Armenska to face the league's top-scoring team.
Just moments before kick off, another ray of hope in the shape of a phone call from Ali. Rover WAG Petra was quickly despatched to collect him, but even at full gallop, all were aware there was little chance of the cavalry arriving before half-time - by which point the damage would be done.
It's become a cliche, but as has so often been the case this season, with no expectations, the pressure was off the reds, who were therefore relaxed as they lined up one man down for the kick off. Damage limitation would surely be the order of the day, and even a point for a draw would be a miracle.
Fate had other ideas, and within minutes Melchester were shaking their heads in disbelief as CK9 made a nuisance of himself in the box, won possession, laid the ball back to Smith, who, with still 3 to beat, fired hard and low into bottom left corner. But Galaxy soon equalised, and the pattern was set for an epic match. Like Mohammed Ali v George Forman, Melchester allowed Galaxy to attack at will, soaking up the pressure, waiting for the moment their opponents let their guard down to strike with devastating precision, Matt Smith springing the offside trap to latch onto CK9's sliderule pass and poke past the onrushing keeper to retake the lead.
By this point fears of a drubbing had been banished, and even another two goals from Galaxy to give them the lead failed to dent Rover's confidence. And the arrival of Ali just before half time gave just the lift that was needed.
Half-time, making the most of the shade
4-3 down at half-time, now with a full team - albeit without subs, but with a fresh Ali - Rovers began the 2nd period quietly confident, and rightly so. Having again soaked up Galaxy's increasingly weak attacks, Rovers launched a counter: Smith laid back for CK9, whose shot the keeper saved, but couldn't hold, and Ali, Le Fox in Le Box, tucked away the rebound from close range.
With Galaxy imploding and the flow of play evening out, Melchester started to push for an unthinkable victory, and the pressure paid off when the Galaxy keeper made a mistake in possession, allowing Ali to coolly slot home a simple but well taken fifth.
Things are about to turn very, very nasty...
Still plenty of time left on the clock, but now it was Galaxy who were desperate, with Rovers in complete control of the game. But desperate times call for desperate measures, as Galaxy were about to demonstrate. An innocuous challenge on the halfway line led to some "handbags" between CK9 and the Galaxy defence, and as the reds moved in to calm things down, Galaxy lifted their shirts and unsheathed their Samurai Fucking Swords!!!
With a blood-curdling scream of "Galaxyyyeeeeeeeeee!" a ferocious attack was launched. Melchester, unarmed and unprepared, did their best to avoid the blades, but soon the air was filled with shining steel, swooping and hacking in all directions, and casualties were unavoidable. As the Galaxy samurai scattered their enemy, they then formed packs to hunt down the helplessly outnumbered Rovers.
Then, as soon as it all began, the call to retreat was heard, and in a flash Galaxy had disappeared as if they were never there. As the referee tentatively emerged from his hiding place, Ozzie The Melchester Dog pulled the injured Rovers into the centre circle, as the ladies of Melchester recited ceremonial chants to their fallen heroes.
Having heard the battle from his nearby donjon, soon enough the BMSK Shogun, Filip-san, arrived with his ceremonial guard. Those Rovers who could stand bowed low, and Filip-san respectfully returned the bow, before asking, "Where is the daimyo Loy Lace?"
RACEY!!! In the confusion, no-one had had time to count the casualties, and now the Rovers realised their leader was unaccounted for! Searching the field frantically, the reds feared the worst - and rightly so. For there, in the dugout, lay Roy Race in a pool of his own blood, a shuriken star barbed in his throat.
"Ninjaaaaaa!" cried the panicked Reds, spinning around in case the enemy was still lurking. But the attack was over, and there was nothing for it but to await the arrival of the medicine men....
With the game abandoned and an automatic 5-0 victory awarded to Melchester, none of the events described above actually count for anything. However, 3 points edge the Rovers into the top half of the table, and (ignoring the cock-up in the graphic above) with a game in hand against lowly Palermo, a fifth-placed finish is well within reach.
C'mon the Rovers!!!!
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