BEFC (1) 7 - 4 (1) Futako Primera 6 August 2000

On a slightly chilly August afternoon Bystedt's silly run of managerial success continued, as BEFC strode surely, then a bit uncertainly, then quite surely again, towards another league win.

A 2 car convoy got us to the ground: an Oklahoman dustbowl next to Shinmin Museum in Kawasaki. Cooper was lead driver in his luxuriant Nissan Gloria, replete with water in the radiator. Cat tried to keep up in his knackered old Bimmer. Directions courtesy of Ronaldo, who in a wholly uncharacteristic display of 'not-quite-leaving-enough-time-to-get-to-the-game', had left instructions with the Oji Homes cleaner. Some nervous moments (and a prophetic "Where's Mark?" from Cooper, after losing the rear car at a Shibuya traffic light) but all arrived in one piece and started sweating in earnest when they saw the size of the pitch.

BEFC kicked off with Crowley in goal, Cooper, Jones, Thornington and Spivey across the back, Bystedt, Bridge (who? remarked the touchline wags), Willis and Collier in midfield, and Court and Woolhouse up front.

After a tough, nip and tuck opening, the deadlock was broken by a sublime piece of midfield interplay, moving from Cooper throught Bridge before Bystedt released Woolhouse who crossed in from the right wing [actually, Bystedt passed across the goal to Collier. Ed]. Collier timed his run in from the left beautifully, using 2 thighs, a knee, a pair of laces, some shinpad, and a loose piece of ankle tape to deftly guide the ball in at the far post. Bystanders heard a brief "Bloody Nora" and an exhalation of breath, before Collier collected himself and turned to receive the well-deserved plaudits of his teammates.

Futako came back strongly and had a stonking free-kick disallowed for being too good. But they soon got their equaliser. As everyone hurtled towards the BEFC goal the winger pulled the ball back, cleverly wrongfooting the BEFC contingent who all ran into the net, from where they were unable to stop a Futako piledriver. 1-1.

Several BEFC chances followed, largely attempted chips as a result of the Futako keeper's preference for hanging out on the half way line with his mates, and the BEFC preference for not running all the way up the pitch on such a hot day. All went over/round/didn't reach. The heat started to play its part and the Chelsea-esque rotation system came into its own. Our very own Tore Andre came on up front for Court (himself not unlike Sutton? Ed.) (p.s. all you stattos out there - yes, yes - he doesn't play for Chelsea any more), and late arrival Ronaldo coming into midfield for Vern as Matt T took a well-earned break at the back. But no more goals and 1-1 was a fair-ish result at half-time as we wandered off the direction of the side line for medical attention.

After the referee had had an extended 40 minute conversation on his mobile phone (comment censored in the best interest of the club. Ed.) play restarted.

The new look Laurel and Hardy front line (Watts/Lynch), with support from Bystedt/Bridge, combined to quickly move the score on to 3-1: Watts with a clinical strike which broke the sound barrier as it bobbled over the keeper's outstretched arm and in off a post, Lynch with a rapid pinball exchange with the Futako defence which has just received accreditation in the Guiness Book of Records for use of every body part by all three participants in under 3 seconds.

The underlying guilt of the BEFC team at the way we'd surged ahead then found its voice in classy piece of finishing by Thornington, who cleverly drew the keeper (The Cat) off his line before drilling an unstoppable header into the far corner of the net [our own]. 3-2. Futako followed his lead to score a fine equaliser of their own minutes later.

BEFC then played like a bunch of schoolgirls for about 15 minutes, covering their faces and going knock-kneed when the ball came towards them, screaming when they were tackled, and falling over when the opposition caught them with an elbow in the tits. Rotating substitutes Jones and Woolhouse (the manager had wisely affored the team's 4 largest breasts touchline protection) cringed on the sidelines and started volunteering to write the match report to make sure they didn't get lumped in with the rest of us when the debacle got written up.

Somehow Futako contrived not to take advantage, partly due to a commanding performance from the Cat and nerveless control of the backline by Vern. Then BEFC got tired of never touching the ball and went on the attack. Bridge did some of those ponsy foot stepover thingies and sent through Court, then Woolhouse (twice) who both showed a classy calm, finishing with aplomb. Woolhouse later added to his tally with another superb finish feigning the other way before slotting through a needle down to the keeper's left - a fine hat-trick. 7-3.

The game approached its final minutes. But something wasn't quite right. Murmurs went around the ground. Something was amiss.. the game had had everything hadn't it? Goals, end-to-end excitement, a couple of young opponents booted into the air by Grandpa Jones, a really crap spell in the second half by BEFC... But with the last touch of the game all was resolved - a Futako mis-kick soared through the air and gently lobbed the BEFC defense, dropping into the goal to make it 7-4. All was well again with the world, and the ref was able to blow his final whistle with a clear conscience.

Another fine team effort. Jonesy withdrew his offer to write the match report. He, Court and Bridge selflessly stood on the sidelines listening to Woolhouse talk them through his goals, while the others skivied off and raked the pitch.

One more step towards denying the French nation their glorious treble of World Cup, European Championship, and Tokyo International Friendship League 2nd Division League B winners.

BEFC: Crowley, Cat, Thornington, Jonesy, Vern, Les, Donald, Collier, Bysedt, Bridge, Lynch, Watts, Court, Woolhouse

eCarlos/Ronaldo management Joint Men-of-the-match: Cooper and Bridge