A's match reports

All the reports for the current season are here - latest first

A's 10 - 0 Sporting Hounslow

Bremner, Giles, Gray, erm Fulwood, Thompson, Smalley, Donders...

Under the stands and through the doors, round the corridor and out onto the fields, this field of hate. Under these b@stard southern skies, these dirty grey b@stard southern skies. You don’t believe in luck, he believed in luck you don’t believe in luck, in god or in luck – not you. You can feel it before the game starts, Uxbridge wont win today against Harrow and you will beat Acton, they’ll be on 46 points and you on 45 – you Tilburg Regents in 4th place.

This is where promotion is won, not at White Hart Lane or Anfield in front of 40,000 and their tv millions here at Warren Farm. Here in the filthy f*cking changing rooms in this filthy Ealing town, here on this filthy Ealing pitch on Saturday in April in front of no-one, the opposition calling you every filthy f*cking name under the sun, here is where promotion is won and lost.

Today you will not lose, not today –

Not on this field, not today.

From the first minute to the last while you sweep away acton town from first to last, from the minute Taylor slots home after Wilcockson at outside right plays weston through for the cross. From the minute Thompson sets up Donders who lobs their keeper. From the minute Smalley plays through Weston who rounds the keeper to make it 3. From the minute Taylor adds a second on his left. From the minute Thompson, the inside left, smashes home the 5th from the edge of the box.

The half time talk is easy, your work is done. No sweat you tell the lads, more of the same.

Dirty cheating b*stards, dirty b*stards. Not our lot, we don’t cod, go down looking for a penalty, harangue the referee cheat and dive our way to a win. Not our lot, not Tilburg Regents.

The sixth goal comes from Weston combining with Donders who plays in Thompson to put it in the net. The seventh goal from Wainwright, bloody Wainwright from right back exchanging passes with Wilcockson and beating two men. On 70 Minutes Donders plays in Weston to curl the ball round the keeper for eight. Two minutes later Weston Beats his man and pulls the cross back for Taylor to complete his hat trick with a far post header, then on 80 minutes Weston beat his man again and squares the ball for Krmadjian to make it 10. 10 - nil, 10 bloody nil. Not since Freezywater have Tilburg put 10 past another team.

Here on this field in Ealing is where promotion is won and lost, here on this filthy f*cking Ealing pitch.

Unstoppable, un f*cking stoppable, Todd, Lawrence, Fulwood, Garfield, Wainright, Taylor, Smalley, Thompson, Wilcockson, Weston, Donders, Ryan and Krmadjian.

Nothing lucky about it, no blue suits, no dossiers, no bingo. Nothing lucky, no envelopes full of cash no gamesmanship or cheating –

Just football

Not superstition, not bloody ritual and not f*cking luck

Just good clean, honest, football

Into the tunnel, round the corridor, up the steps and through the doors. Glass in your hand and another win you celebrate, not them, you, Tilburg Regents.

As 2 - 1 AMU

We're all just a bit tired and emotional

After finishing one game already, it was time for every man to stand up and be counted as they embarked upon the second game of a tortuous double header - the crazy b4stards at the leagues helm had decided that two games should be played back to back rather than any sort of sensible option. The Tilburg lions roared into action after enough time had been granted to ensure all the players had warmed down from the previous game. It was always going to be tough, but you could almost smell the beach, hear the gunfire, and feel the tension as the Tilburgers evoked the spirit of '45 to repel the forces opposite them. This was not to be confused with Wandsworth common in South London where all of these qualities are actually tangible given the huge sand dumping on the pitch and problems with violence.

As the game kicked off, the Tilburg mighty machine started moving, and 11 tanks rolled into the opposition half, each fitting together like the cogs of a finely oiled machine, crushing the life out of the opposition. Admittedly, some of the cogs didn’t roll quite to plan or at least got their wars confused. One incident involved Russ crushing the life out of JT as he fell on him invoking the spirit of '03 and landing a pre-emptive strike on the bun eater himself. Within about two minutes of the start, a move down the left led to some embarrassing defending, and Adam struck a shot which was saved onto the bar. Belgian Rob, new to the team for this game, duly headed home the first goal, taking his tally to 1, and becoming Tilburgs' top scoring centre midfielder. A very deft finish from a newbie to the team was always going to get some post match attention, leading Martin to ask, "Belgian Rob, what's your real name then?"

The Tilburg army marched on, evoking the spirit of 1239, with most of the balls up to the strikers looking like they had been delivered by a Trebuchet. As the wind blew strong, and the Tilburgers contemplated the thought of playing uphill against the wind, it was clear that the mortal blow would need to be delivered. Unfortunately, that blow was to previous hat trick hero JT, pulling up with a non-injury (cramp). Some speculated that he had lost concentration after someone had mentioned Hamburger Hill for war-time inspiration earlier on. Some speculated that he was in trouble after the winger invoked the war-time spirit of '04 and pissed all over him. One more captain was slain by the mighty armband.

As the half drew to a close, there was confusion in the defence and Adam seized the moment, breaking a tackle, and charged through towards the goalkeeper. Some people, perhaps even some Gregs might have said there was too much time on the ball. Leaving singed grass and desecrated field in his wake, he shimmied the goalkeeper, tying him up like an old muddy shoelace on a rugby boot before placing the ball into the corner of the goal astutely. Tilburg were 2-0 up. A small boy cried for the last time.

There was still time for some action though in the first half, as a goal came out of nowhere for the home team. As Tilburgs defence stood strong, and refused to be beaten, it became clear that they needed to think outside the box. One of their players duly obliged, running outside the 6 yard box and off the pitch with the ball before squaring it to get a goal back. Earlier suggestions that Brett was better off the pitch were starting to look foolish as he stared blankly at the pitch while prancing around with the flag.

The second half started, and Tilburg once again refused to wave the flag. The white flag!!!!!!! Their no surrender attitude, sung about in bars all over the country by people devoutly born in England was a joy to watch. Russ and Rob were immense in midfield, breaking up the play from the oppositions attacks heroically. The wingers were providing an outlet whenever possible, and the defence and goalkeeper evoked the spirit of '44 as they refused to be budged, this time not taking it as a licence to look like Dads Army at the back. As they rebutted constant batterings, the wall was becoming weaker, the pressure getting stronger. Like a small boy with his finger in the leaking dyke, Stu was reminded to be careful what you wish for. All of a sudden though, the light shone through the clouds, and Greg broke through the defence, miles away from any defenders. After running through to the goalkeeper, who obligingly gave him the 2 metres on his left side to aim at, Greg unselfishly put the team first and proceeded to lace the ball as far and high away from the goal as was humanly possible. By the time the ball was retrieved, the game had cooled down, and the only thing heated was the ball after burning a little returning through the earths outer atmosphere.

After some more great stops in the defence, and some more tidy work in midfield, the ref blew his whistle for the end of the game. Tilburg had won the war of attrition, and also the game of football going on in the background. With only a few more games to go, the intermittent appearance of God, and the leaving of Jesus, it looked like Tilburg might actually batter down the drawbridge door to Middlesex Division 2.

A's 4 - 2 AMU

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is It Robin?

Tilburg are used to double headers. We have Rob and Bob, we have GK and his double, misplaced self-confidence we have Martin and the fact that he is also in a coma back in 1995. Despite the wear and tear these may bring to our psychological well being, they have never tested our fitness.

Sadly the league had arranged for us to go toe-to-toe with AMU twice in the one day. How on earth could this collection of bedraggled late twenty and early thirty somethings cope against a team who may not have the 'burg's points haul so far this season, but certainly don't have our mid-drift haul either?

Well a starter for ten is to play down-hill with the wind at your back. Utilising the elements we bombarded the AMU goal as Tilburgers rolled down the sloped, knocking defenders out of their way like skittles, and the reward of an opening goal came soon enough as a corner swung in from the right saw Adam jump with their keeper, skittle him out the road and deflect the ball home with his shoulder.

Then Danny, our Morph-shaped captain for the day in recognition of his last FCTR outing this year, saw his swansong ended as he took an elbow to the back. Alas Danny would forever look at the records for season 07/08 and be haunted by the stat that would mark Smalley down with one goal, and Danny with none.

The second goal soon followed, and what sight it was. As a corner again from the right was not cleared, it dropped at the edge of the box, and meeting the ball with the full force of a gale at his back was JT, who leathered the poor unsuspecting ball sweetly on the volley past the equally unsuspecting 'keeper.

JT was not finished though. As the second half got underway with Tilburg wheezing into the win, AMU pulled one back as their annoyingly youthful and sprightly attacker scored, this was an affront. JT scorned, as though refused a burger at the Vic, once again smashed home a loose ball from the edge of the box to re-establish our two goal lead.

But as the wind blew hard, AMU claimed a second. A long ball over the top caught the back four flat, and the ball, curiously heading in a straight line, caught the keeper out as he kicked fresh air with all his might, the ball trundled, almost embarrassingly into the net. 3-2.

However, the game was soon finished as a contest, when Patrick fed Sam who once again crossed into the box only for the defender to save GK's blushes and handle the ball clear before Greg could inevitably smash it skyward. Penalty.

As JT placed the ball on the spot, sensing greatness, or was it HP sauce? Bridgey advised it was no time for sentiment - but this attempt to dupe JT into handing over the responsibility of the penalty was doomed to fail. JT took it once - scored and so impressed was the ref, he made him take it again, and so JT claimed his first hat-trick with a cool finish.

As the ref brought the game to an end, we rejoiced, sure that this pack of ageing rockers had broken the young urban upstarts spirits. How depressing it was to see 11 fresh faced new youngsters pitch up readying themselves for game 2…

FCTR: Todd; Wainwright, Thompson, Lee, Lawrence; Wilcockson, Dowd (Fulwood 20), Donders, Taylor; Cummings, Krmadjian. Scorers: Cummings, Thompson (3)

A's 2 - 0 Acton Town

We kick off at Russ-time

If the true test of a team is in grinding out a victory in a game, then Tilburg passed like Albert Einstein doing GCSE physics.

In a game that did for flowing one touch football what King Herod did for babysitting, Tilburg had to cut out all the fancy stuff

(passing and moving), and concentrate on good old fashioned grit to get the result.

In charge of the game this week were Rob and Robin; a fearless managerial duo with a penchant for not speaking in Scottish riddles to justify the existence of a nation said to be North of here. Surprisingly, the organisation still suffered as the

wheels didnt so much fall off as be forcibly removed from the vehicle by several scousers in a carjacking leaving several people dead in their wake. This largely revolved around a combination of chubby fingers and a match time plucked out of an an4l cavity leading numerous people to think the meeting time was 2pm and not 1pm. Russ managed to prove he was no match for Einstein after

failing to appreciate time and space completely, arriving after the kick off prepared for the beach. Unfortunately Bridgey was a victim of lateness of trains, and after changing on the pitch for the second match in succession, Tilburg took to the field with only 10 men.

I cant honestly remember a single play from the game, such was the magnificence on show and my poor memory. I have a feeling that had I been able to, I might be able to regale you about a player who might have performed a dragback before being robbed of possession, or other suitably adrenaline pumping scenarios. However, in the the plethora of tepidness on display, there were actually patches of ok. For example, Robin managed to equal a Tilburg record by ruthlessly exploiting Haurel and Lardy in the oppositions defence to ram home two more goals. How far can he go? Effortlessly tumbling down the walls of history and what people said couldnt be done, it was like witnessing the reunification of Berlin.

In the end though, it was a very functional display from Tilburg, who were only really troubled by their own skill levels. The match was sealed, the points won, and the march up the table continued. Announcing that they were as serious as cancer, the first time since Snap many years previous, Tilburg took the 3 points and the plaudits, and deservedly changed indoors for once.

A's 2 - 0 Barn Elms

Not even British Rail can stop him

With the teams tighter than a Scottish man at the end of a dole queue at the top of the table, but less predictable, Tilburg embarked on yet another game against one of their challengers for promotion. It wasnt to be easy thanks to a journey that would make John Candy stay at home, as South Western trains took the opportunity to prove why they can reject above inflation pay increases for their skills and diligent work ethic. After a slow train to Twickenham, a walk to a bus stop in the rain, a bus to Richmond, and a run onto the pitch itself 65 minues later than expected, recent reports of God deserting Tilburg were proving prophetic.

The game started approximately 5 minutes later, giving the Tilburgers time to squeeze in their normal warm up with a few minutes to spare. The game kicked off, and proved to be pretty open in the first half, largely in Tilburgs favour. The Barn Elms attacking lineup struggled to penetrate the back line of Bridgey, Brendan, Patrick and Rob in any meaningful way, while the Tilburg attack managed to piece together some flowing moves through the Barn Elms rearguard. The two best chances fell to Russ and Ronan who managed to demonstrate a diligence to not scoring that even Dirk Kuyt would have been proud of. The royal mint were last seen going back to the drawing board to produce a coin which could have missed that header at the back post. The first half ended nil nil, and whilst the result wasnt going for either team, everyone was glad of a good clean game in the conditions. Actually, I take that back, yellow cards were handed round to all and sundry, as the ref made up for years of abuse for his fondness of midnight visits to the fridge. Special mention must go to Kev who ran a fantastic line for the first half, and to the delight of anyone with a passing interest in Darwinism frequently risked his fertility by scaling a spiked fence to retrieve the ball. Despite having to play uphill and against the wind in the second half, Tilburg were optimistic that things would drop into place in the second half.

This ambition was dashed within minutes of the kick off with a move which will struggle to appear in any comic strip. Rumours of Danny dropping the water he was carrying back from the well continued to circulate into the second half as massive puddles of water formed over the pitch. The kick off was taken, and the ball was laid back to Shane who successfully managed to pass it into the largest of these within the centre circle, stopping the ball dead. Even so, the Tilburgers kept their heads up, and started crafting some quite amazing moves, using the wings fully as Ronan and Sam both started coming into the play more prominently and causing the Barn Elms back four all sorts of trouble. It was inevitable in the end that Tilburg would go one nil up, with a flowing move that resulted in Sam scoring. There were suggestions of a biological weapon being employed, as everyone seemed to fall over in the box, and Sam appeared to have some sort of a mask on, but the goal stood anyway.

At one nil up, the game started getting a little tetchy, and there were a few more bookings by the referee. Tilburg managed to keep out it by and large apart from Tilburg bruiser Danny, who managed to earn himself a yellow card for his free osteoporosis tests on some of the Barn Elms midfielders legs and impression of Javier Mascherano. There was still more good work by all involved in the defence, and it was only a matter of time before the second was scored. Sam was released up the right wing, and 'did a Scooby Doo' past the defender into some space for the cross. The ball was played across the box, and desperation set into Barn Elms. Shane managed to just miss out on it, and it ran across the goal. The defender could have booted it away there and then, but looking round and seeing Adam, opted to turn the ball into his own net. He explained after the game to LivingTV+1 that it was a time saving technique for the inevitable, allowing them more time to reverse the deficit.

After this, it just required a bit more diligence, something already applied twice by this point. The Tilburgers created more chances, stifling Barn Elms into a succession of hopeless balls and before long, the game was won. The Tilburgers were ecstatic for a flawless display, and a couple of well ground out goals. It was clear that God had deserted Tilburg by now, leading some experts in religion to describe him as more of a Mary Poppins figure in the deity world. As God clearly wasnt playing dice, the Tilburgers rolled snake eyes, and romped home to victory laughing in the face of God, who was last spotted at Old Trafford keeping the score down to 4-0.

A few final words I think are necessary on the exploits post-game in Infernos. I must state that this isnt in any way to do with the match report:

Shane: Seemed isolated, not in control.

Danny: Stumbled around carrying liquid.

Adam: Made a few contributions in places, but didnt look like scoring.

Russ: Very tenacious, chasing down lost causes.

Ronan: Wasnt interested in getting into the box, but did some good work otherwise.

Patrick: Didnt turn up.

Acton Town 0 - 4 A's

What ever happened to modesty?

After a journey which would have made Phileas Fogg blush and Jules Verne get an RSI in his writing hand, Tilburg arrived at their destination and its state of the art facilities. The Acton Town changing rooms took their inspiration from Sol LeWitt and created a minimalist surrounding which placed the emphasis on the warm up. This wasnt down to a comprehensive set of designer pre-match equipment however, but more down to the fact that it was so fcuking cold before the pre-match frolics even started. With that in mind, the Tilburgers commenced on a long and arduous warm up to make sure they started the match in the peak condition. See photo 1 unless Damo the webmaster is slacking.

The match started off quite frantically as Tilburg aimed to break their hosts early on, with a selection of 'just getting used to the pitch' passes, 'just getting used to my boots' shots, and 'just getting used to gravity, and physics in general actually' runs from midfield. In truth, the first half was a bit of a non event, and the only real winner was the ionosphere, which actually had possession of the ball for about 70% of the half according to the opta stats. However, there were a few moments. For example, in the second display of caring in two weeks, Robin dressed up like Terry Butcher for the cause, even including a large red bit of sticky tape for the benefit of blood stained shots from the blimp cam. It may have been a cheap publicity stunt for the Tilburg player of the year awards, but with this management board anything is worth a shot. See photo 2. At the very least it should guarantee column inches for commentary on Englands continual failure in football tournaments.

At the half time interval, it was time for the team talk, and Kev laid down the law. The emphasis was placed on getting the ball down, spreading it to the wings, and stopping them shooting. Them being Danny and Shane by the way, as they continued to prove that they couldnt hit water if they fell out of a boat. It proved to be sound advice as upon starting the half, Tilburg took an early lead.

The ball was played down the left, a cross delivered in, and the defender headed the ball away towards the back of the goal. In a display of predatory skills which would make the Serengeti look like the Isle of Man, Adam ghosted in at the back post, pounced on the loose ball, and headed into the net. Photo 3 shows an artists impression of what this may have looked like. It was the breakthrough that Tilburg needed, but it came at a price. It is likely that Little Britain may be off the screens for a little while until Matt Lucas gets over concussion sustained from a collision with the post.

Tilburg were in the ascendancy at this point, and shortly after, a corner was floated into the box to find Bridgey, once again managing to get his head on a loose ball and guide it into the net with some panache. At this point, Acton Town heads finally went down, and it was looking like being a free for all. People who could actually score anyway; all of a sudden there were breakaways all over the pitch in a way I havent seen since JT opened his lunchbox. Runs from Bridgey, Ronan, and 'Is that, no it cant be, it looks like him though' Rob cut apart the zonal marking of the Acton town defending. It was only a question of time then before a third was added.

The ball broke loose on the edge of the box to Adam, faced with the choice of burying it into the visible 5% of the goal, or laying it to Shane with an open goal at his mercy. If Alan Hansen has taught anything over his career, it is the value of playing percentages, so the shot was unleashed by Adam, arrowing into the bottom right of the goal, making young boys cry in the process. As the sun set on the day, and on the ambitions of Acton Town, there was still further punishment to come. Sensing that Ronan wasnt up to the task of putting a free kick past a concussed Matt Lucas who was stood behind his wall entirely unsighting himself after his two earlier 'blimp downers', Adam grabbed the ball. Placed it. Struck it. Scored it. And with the nonchalance of three spurious short sentences, Tilburg went four nil up, as the young boy, disconsolate and drowning in a sea of tears was consoled by his dad. We had now seen the father, the son and the holy ghost in reverse order. The holy trinity were here in the form of a divine hat-trick.

There was still time for a little goal mouth action afterwards, and some smart saves from either keeper kept the strikers at bay. The ref blew time and the sun shone brilliantly, even Chris Martin would have known it shone for Tilburg on that day. It had been a very good team performance to secure the three points and the march towards the top of the league. The Tilburgers had clearly been touched by God again, and not in a disturbing way which would require a 7 page spread in the Daily Mail either.

Phoenix Rovers 2 - 3 A's

Someone stop him scoring....

The clouds drew over the sky, darkening the atmosphere, as evil once again threatened to grip the mighty Tilburg in the form of 11 players and a horrendously bent linesman. In a game against one of the bottom teams in the table, there was only one result that would do for Tilburg in their pursuit of the holy grail of promotion. From playing on a beach the week previous, they were invited to take the field on a revolutionary new hard surface, with a bouncy ball for added hilarity.

The match kicked off, and was a fair old battle until half time. It was proving difficult for Tilburg to implement their brand of Total Football as the pitch and the ball and the linesman and the weather and the pitch, and did I mention the ball (?), were blamed for the tactic of lumping it at most opportunities. Fortunately, this appeared to be a tactic which Darwin had noted might work against primates during his earlier tour of the Galapagos islands, and as documented, the height of the pass deceived the opposition defenders on more than one occasion. On this basis, Tilburg managed to carve out quite a few opportunities and hit the post early on, having a succession of shots that were just over, just wide, or just sh1t.

At half time the message was clear, and that fact coupled with it coming from a Jock seemed to shock Tilburg into stepping up a gear. You could almost hear the grinding of the clutch as Tilburg disjointedly moved into second early on in the second half. The new policy of actually distributing the ball to other members of the squad directly, fully supported by the RSPB, seemed to pay immediate dividends as Ronan crossed for Bridgey to nod astutely into the corner. Tilburg were on a roll.

Unfortunately this wasnt the best tactic, as they were playing uphill, so this duly resulted in them conceding two goals. The first was a fairly decent move, and the second came as Stu forgot how tall he was as the ball bounced over and was headed into an unguarded net. Amongst some good saves and tackles, it was a blow to Tilburg, and the other team were already celebrating the win as the tide had turned.

Unfortunately this wasnt the best tactic as the most bold waves in a tide tend to go uphill because the curvature of the bottom arches the waves upwards menacingly, so once again, Tilburg regained the initiative. Figuratively speaking of course. The match was becoming increasingly dirty, and Tilburg were occasionally channeling their aggression into other peoples shinpads, something which was also on the agenda of the other side, and you could witness a few challenges you wouldnt see at the top level. Oh.

It was getting late on with time ticking, and being 2-1 down, it was time for Tilburgs striker supreme Robin to step forward again. Realising that the Derren Brown tactic of celebrating non-existent goals vigorously was not going to sway the ref to writing one of them down, he decided to pitch in and score a real one. The score became 2-2 as he slotted it away. Tilburg seemed galvanised, the clouds became a paler shade of grey, a young boys eyes welled up, and there was 110% commitment right from the goalkeeper, through the defence and into the midfield and attack, as the Tilburgers defied fate and maths to mount a comeback.

Time ticked on, and it was ripe for a last minute goal once more. Another excellent run by Bridgey up the wing led to a cutback, and a finish by Adam so sharp, it could have scythed the tip off a diamond. Tilburg were 3-2 up. On the corner of a pitch there was a man stood shouting "I'm cured" as he ran around the pitch; his wheelchair discarded like a salad menu in the Victoria. As Jesus had once turned water into wine and cured leprosy, 2000 years later, cutbacks were turned into last minute goals, and a man who previously had been unable to walk now found he could use his legs again. It was a beautiful sight.

The whistle was blown, and Tilburg had recorded another win as a crack of sunlight edged through the clouds to light up a plastic bag rolling across the pitch. It was a message from God. He was saying not to give up second place in Middlesex Division 3 in his own special way, before he dashed off to give minor injuries to sinners in an earthquake.

Tilburg 2 - 3 Harrow

Yet another Adam goal, yet another one-sided match report

It was a surprisingly warm day as the Harlem Globetrotters of Middlesex Division three came to town. Despite a fairly cold start to the day, the sun was shining brightly, and seemed to suggest bright things for the Tilburg crew. The pitch had been newly replaced with a beach, perhaps in preparation for a clear forecast, and Tilburg were looking to extend their run of good form and top corner goals. Despite the fact that Greg had picked up an injury, rendering his Futbol de Salao skills useless on the Wandsworth sands, there was considerable cause for optimism in the Tilburg ranks as they warmed up. Some may say that this was due to the fact that pitch conditions didnt matter when the ball rarely uses the earths contours (Copyright Hendon 'A' 2008)

The match started with a fiercely contested opening, as the 4-5-1 by Tilburg led to an almighty battle in the centre of midfield with studs flying into shins and legs from both sides. Danny and Shane kept their midfield quiet while the entire back line made sure that any aberrations were not costly with a selection of well timed tackles. Like the prison guards against the officers in almost every wartime scenario passed, it was time to make a mark in what was surely to be an unwinnable game by Tilburg, against a team who had won every single game they had played this season. Only Tilburg didnt read the script; the squads' general illiteracy coming to their rescue.

It was a fairly evenly matched game of football, when Shane and Robin combined to send a ball over the defenders heads and surely into the arms of the onrushing goalkeeper. But that wasnt to be. Beating his 4ft 3 marker for speed, Adam rushed through the centre of the field with awesome acceleration and pace and lifted the ball above the onrushing goalkeeper with some aplomb. Given the new found interest in these goals, there was inevitably a wealth of media attention and criticism; these are some of the highlights:

Dr Helmut van der Schlong of the Niels Bohr physics institute: "I am always concerned when I see irresponsible pace and acceleration of this kind. At the Niels Bohr institute we have been worried for some time that this sort of negligence may rip the fabric of space time, causing the end of the universe. If it were not for an exceptionally deft touch to lob the goalkeeper, I feel we all may have perished"

Child crying on the touchline: "People wonder why I turn up week by week and cry on the touchline. The truth is that I havent seen anything as beautiful as these goals since I saw a plastic bag moving in the wind sometime ago"

After this goal, Tilburg battled until the break, matching the prison officers move for move until they managed to sneak a goal just before half time against the Tilburg resistance. This was followed almost immediately by another sneaky goal much to the despair of Tilburg. Needless to say, there was a lot of sneakiness and Tilburg went off at half time 2-1 down.

Despite this, Tilburg started the second half well and made some great chances to equalise, probably more than matching the might of Harrow at this point. There was a spate of petulance, rearing its head yet again after it was invented by Beckham in the '98 World Cup. The Harrow guys were doing anything to try and preserve their lead and break down the Tilburg defences again.

Despite all this, with 5 minutes on the prison clock, there was a cross into the box, and the brave JT got his head on it, possibly sprinting really quickly into the box to get his head on it. It was a just reward, and as he ran away celebrating, it still wasnt clear if the Sub-12 challenge should be renamed the Sub-way challenge as the slowing Tilburgers ambled over to congratulate him easily on making it 2-2.

Despite the last two paragraphs, it came down to the final minute, and in an extremely brave move by Harrow, perhaps by design or instinct, they all pushed forward in a last minute counter attack, when the ball dropped in the box to one of their players, who smashed it into the net to go 3-2 up. The prison guards had won the game - it was almost inevitable - but they had a new found respect for the plucky Tilburgers after they almost ended their 100% record, matching them all the way until the end. There would be no more truncheon based rapes in the showers from now on, and the Tilburgers could hold their heads high.

We're in a 'final' - albeit quarter...Adam (now Tilburg's most prolific author) writes...

A's 3 - 1 Park Place

On an overcast but mild day, the Tilburgers once again dragged themselves from their beds to the pitch for one of the most eagerly anticipated cup games in years. There was a thriving crowd of about 10, and they were all believing the hype. Hope was almost tangible, such was the aura surrounding the Tilburgers after their latest forays into excellence and top corner goals.

The match began in a fairly disjointed manner with some end to end stuff typical of two teams pulling out all the stops to win the cup. Unfortunately for Park Place, the goalkeeper decided to pull his stops out also. Robins turn and snapshot caught the goalkeeper unaware and he couldnt shift his weight from one foot to the other; an understandable problem having seen the goalkeeper in question. This resulted in the shot skimming off the turf and under the goalkeepers torso, a feat rather less understandable. After a prolonged period of battle between the two sides on a pitch which actually did have a passable no-mans land and some trenches upon it, there came an equaliser for Park Place. It came from an unlikely source; not the man with the pink gloves - dont be silly, but from a guy who was promoting his health and beauty clinic throughout the game. At this point, Park Place were in the ascendancy, and had a renewed belief that they could go on and secure the win. As the sky became darker and evil looked to be consuming good, Im sure I saw a child cry over on the touchline. (yes, again). In retrospect though, it may have been the daylight diminishing due to a ridiculously shambolic and late turn up time for Park Place, meaning the game was finished in the evening. But it was probably creeping evil.

Who can forget May 2001. Probably not Liam I would imagine. That poachers goal. The race through the centre accompanied by a deft finish into the corner in the final minutes. For a moment everywhere, cynics sat back embracing their new found spiritualist tendencies as the magic of the cup was reinvigorated, and millions of observers rejoiced in a manner not seen outside of every single xmas movie ever made. They said lightning couldnt strike twice. But it did. Or four times, depending on how you want to itemise things. First there was a roving run by Sam, somehow making his Scooby Doo style run overtake some players on the right hand side of the field. An excellent cut back, and a finish so crisp by Adam it could revitalise Golden Wonder, and Tilburg took the lead. Pressure mounted after this, and Patrick played a deft through ball, practically checkmating their defender into playing a ball behind his own defence. Similar to Michael Owens pacey run past a set of donkeys years before, Adam pounced and slotted the ball home with aplomb. The game was finally won amidst much rather strange foaming of the mouth by Rob and no WWF moves from Martin in celebration.

It seems churlish to talk about other things, but after being contacted by the Dept of Health and Safety, I have to bring you down from this high before signing off. In between the two latter goals, it was not without incident. In fact, such was the frenetic nature of the game that there was plenty to talk about. Two name two things, first there was Shanes free facepack afforded to him by a member of their opposition who had scored earlier. The referee did not take too kindly to these treatments in the middle of the game, and gave a straight red for his efforts. Secondly, there was time for Kev and Dannys wooden spoon race to notch another anecdote as they both raced for the ball about 5 yards out. In this case, Dannys wooden spoon won, and he prompted used it to guide the ball wide of the post.

In the end though the 'Tilburg for the cup' bandwagon gathered more pace, and travelling at 4mph, it finds itself in the next round.

Warren 2 - 3 A's

And God made Adam.........write a match report

Nervous laughter accompanied the Tilburg players as they walked through Kensington to play in what was destined to be one of the crunch games of the season. This was partly due to trying to sneak Notherners (Danny and Shane) through one of the poshest areas of London without incident, but it was also in knowledge of the six pointer about to commence.

The game kicked off, and immediately took a turn for the worst as one of the Warren players ran through to score a goal; Tilburgs offside trap narrowly failing by virtue of our entire back four being closer to the goal than their man. Despite this though, it was common agreement that the linesman Patrick was at fault for the first goal. Russ scored an equaliser in a goalmouth scramble moments later to restore parity.

There were two more goals for some guy for Warren and the prolific Robin to make it 2-2.

As the sun gradually fell behind a building, after desperately trying to pierce through a layer of cloud, it looked like all was lost. The referee looked at his watch. He put his whistle to his mouth. The dreams were to be retired to the back of the mind for another year. I saw a child cry on the far touchline as the sadness and emptiness started to spread. People playing tennis held onto the fence in a Terminator style moment, preparing for the worst.

It was at this point, that the ball dropped to Adam about 40 yards from goal. In a moment which will give Palestine and Israel, Thailand and Malaysia, America and everyone else hope, supernatural forced collided and the most amazing thing happened. For a moment, God, Allah, Buddha, and all the Hindu ones stopped their bickering, and combined their efforts to create the perfect goal. God said, "Let it be with the very last kick". Allah said, "Let it be in the very top corner", Buddha said, "Let it be struck with the silk of a thousand spiderwebs". The Hindu gods couldnt make their minds up on a feature; a disadvantage with spreading responsibility and the final decision across Gods I suppose.

As a young teary boy squinted over the other side of the field, a flash of light and inspiration lit up the field as the ball floated into the top corner, with the goalkeeper rooted to the spot. Tilburg had won the game against all odds. The power of good over bad triumphed, and no-one got burned in a nuclear holocaust type thing while holding onto the fence surrounding the tennis court.

As 6 Hendon A 4

Saturday 5 January 2008

The Long (ball) and the Short of it.

After a long (ball) break for Christmas and New Years, the As, complete

with alcohol addled livers, even more hopeless levels of fitness than

usual and an extra cm of fat on the waist took the long (ball) and

winding road to Mill Hill to take on Hendon A.

This was the return match for the bizarre 8-4 thumping they dished out

to us at Wandsworth in the fag end days of summer, but there was a

confidence that we could over turn the result despite them holding aces

like youthfulness and fitness and even skill.

As we sat in the changing rooms thought too tatty for a suburb of Basra

waiting for JT and Bridgey, who if not late had taken longer (ball)

routes to get to the ground, there was agreement that we would be in for

a long (ball) afternoon as the pitch looked heavy and each goalmouth was

sodden through.

However, we put such concerns to one side and took to the field,

determined to keep the score tight and enforce our game on them from the

start...

So after going a goal down in the first five minutes we slowly got into

the game, the midfield started to win more possession and release the

wide players with Ronan and Sam giving the full backs, one of whom had

just returned to league football after Christmas work in the land of Oz

as a munchkin, a hard time.

The equaliser came when a long (ball) corner was floated over to the far

post where Shane flicked on (or not) past the 'keeper. After a long

(ball) period of further pressure, we took the lead with another header

from Ronan who made a long (ball) run into the box to meet Sam's centre.

At half-time a wheezing Tilburg tired to regroup as those pesky kids

from Hendon attempted to keep the interval to a couple of minutes.

Taking long (ball) gulps of breaths, we resolved to play more of the

football that was giving their defence problems.

Not long (ball) after half-time we extended our lead further when Robin

latched onto a mistake from the 'keeper, who attempting to hit the ball

long (ball) instead kicked into the feet of our striker who slotted

home.

No Tilburg win is complete without the inevitable wobble, and we duly

obliged with a 10 minute spell of football more uncertain than a drunk

in Sauchiehall Street given extra cans of Tennent's Super for Christmas.

The Hendon number 10 pulled one back with a long (ball) range effort

before Robin once more restored our two goal advantage and then a couple

of scrappy goals brought Hendon level. But this was not to be a tale of

glorious failure.

Regrouping, and resolving to get Sam back on the ball we took back the

initiative. Sam once again scorching past the full back as he had all

game to set up a corner which he fired into the near post, not long

(ball) to the far, where Bridgey, lurking like a Solksjare, flicked it

beyond the 'keeper, as he said "get lashed on Friday, hang around the

near post and nip in for the winner. Sweet."

The sixth secured Robin's deserved hat trick as once again Sam left the

full back for dead setting up the final score. The result was final when

Bretty made the tackle of the season like a vintage Beckenbauer who

appeared from the long (ball) mists of time to dispossess the Hendon

striker.

A fully deserved win, where despite the long (ball) break, however, as

of today there was still no word on the whereabouts of the Hendon A left

back who was believed still to be trapped in Sam's back pocket. We hope

it wont be to long (ball) before he can be returned to them.

FCTR: Todd; Thompson (Cummings 55), Lawrence, Dowd, Fulwood, Garfield,

Wilcockson, Smalley, Weston, Fitzpatrick, Donnelly (Taylor 60). Scorers:

Donnelly, Fitzpatrick, Taylor, Weston (3).

A's 4 - 8 Hendon A

I once bumped in Chesney Hawkes on the platform at Richmond station, I

had to ask him to move his mole so I could past - he was obliging and

polite and stopped to chat about the good times, Daltrey, Buddy, his

number one hit and what it was like being idolised by millions for a

fleeting moment - sadly I didn't have time as the shop was about to shut

and I really fancied a coffee and a croissant - still its one to tell

the grandkids. Playing Hendon A was a similar experience, Hendon A being

the youth team of Hendon of the Ryman league - not quite the big time

but you might just be able to boast about it if their ginger number 10

turns up at Grays in a few years, although it's more likely they'll turn

up at Halfords to be honest.

We started the game well for 3 minutes and we matched them at belting

the ball into touch and doing foul throws sadly they then decided to

start playing and we decided to be jolly good about it and made it very

easy for them. A back four of Jimmy Saville, Dr Barnados, Jane Tomlinson

and Ian Botham wouldn't have achieved as much charitable work in 45

minutes. Gifting them not 1 but 7 first half goals - some would say that

level of generosity was vulgar, id probably go as far as to say it was

just sh*t.

A fine punt downfield by a despairing Adam deceived the Hendon a defence

and robin paced through to score the only goal for the hosts, coolly

slotting home when 1-1 with the keeper. Who to be fair had f*ck all to

do for 30 minutes and was actually reading a book at the time and was

caught mid page turn just as the shot was unleashed, we'll never know if

Dick and Jane went to school with a cat and a hat, but we do the ball

nestled in the far corner 7-1 at half time.

I'd like to say the Tilburg heads weren't down, positive talk and

encouragement all round, but this would be totally untrue - bridgey

summed it up nicely when he said, we can only let in 5 in this half lads

we've got to concede less than the bees otherwise Damo will be

unbearable. So with that motivational speech implanted in our minds we

took the field.

Amazingly the 2nd half kicked off and Tilburg scored from the off -

Bridgey putting robin through to grab his 2nd of the day - a toe poked

effort that flew into the stanchion like a bullet from the edge of the

box. Tilburg began to believe, I wouldn't say fervently - more like when

kids are told they have to believe in Jesus or they have to sit out the

assembly with the kids who were of a different religion - or was that

just my school - Mikey you're with me on this one????

Another fine move in midfield by Mikey and Shane and through ball by

Robin then allowed Bridgey - solely motivated by the giant head of Damo

mouthing you'll never score past Hendon which was visible in the Clapham

skyline - to blast past Hendon's keeper, now on page 5 of Dick and Jane

have fun at the park. 7-3 and for once we were playing with belief and

passion and skill. So much so that even Robin managed to chase down a

backpass to the keeper and deflect the ball for an easy tap in for his

hat trick, 7-4. The game had changed and Tilburg sniffed a come back.

Russ got in on the action hitting the post when clean through, bridgey

missed another, as did robin - Russ then missed another easy chance

haunted by a vision of Damo still lurking like a malevolent cloud on

laundry day. The more we pressed the more the goal deserted us, it was

all one way and after countless efforts by Sam, shane and mikey from

corners and crosses the inevitable happened and we decided to not track

back after another of those corners we just couldn't put away. A long

ball down field found their centre forward who rounded the defence and

slotted past Stewart to break Tilburg hearts and rob us of at least a

7-5 or a 7-6 defeat - we were that close.

So like Gemma Atkinson from Hollyoaks our brush with fame ended with a

bitter taste in our mouths and the notion that we'd just done something

terribly wrong - anyone else reckon Greg probably would - if he got a

signed shirt thrown in, I think he would, ronaldo seducing him with a

step over or 12 and GK swooning and giving in to his Latin charms,

Ronaldo and GK in unison at orgasm kissing 2 fingers and holding them

aloft - yessssss. The next morning a silver and red Ronaldo 7 condom

lies, used, on the floor the only thing to remind GK of the night he met

a star.

Phoenix 1 - 7 A's

or a load of crap references to Phoenix Nights because of a tenuous

link...

After the 120 minute epic cup match against Phoenix Rovers the week

before, Tilburg were bracing themselves for the return visit of Phoenix

Rovers (AKA Max & Paddy FC) in the league. They were also bracing

themselves for much of the match after the referee threatened yellow

cards for anyone caught pissing in the bushes...

A match tighter than Brian Potter was expected, but it seems that the

Max & Paddy wagon went missing as yet again kick off was delayed when

the Phoenix's strolled up at 2.45pm. Stringent stud/net/ball and metal

detector tests by the referee delayed kick off further, so just before

3pm we were underway.

It wasn't long before Tilburg had got their noses in front after some

good work down the left saw Robin slide in the first goal. And it was to

prove to be the first of many as Mikey nodded in another cross from the

left before Ronan swung home a long throw in from the right. Both sides

had goals ruled out for offside before Mikey rifled in a header from

Bridgey's corner. 4-0 at half time and Max & Paddy were on the road to

nowhere. After 45 minutes of kicking his heels, Stew's team talk was the

usual hairdryer treatment but with the setting firmly on cold. Cold and

calculated. Finish off the Phoenix.

These words were ignored in the first 5 minutes however as Max & Paddy

came the closest to scoring in a good 5 minute spell. However, as the

second half continued, Tilburg's midfield machine whirred into action

with Shane, Ronan and Bridgey using the ball well. The 5th goal wasn't

far away with Ronan finishing a great Tilburg move. Meanwhile Mikey was

winning everything in the air and he was soon rewarded with his 3rd goal

from short range after the keeper flapped at a header. A hat-trick from

Mikey? Time to mix things up. Off went Bridgey and on came the Greek.

Phoenix were in disarray. The Tilburg defence, who had been enjoying a

pleasant stroll in the park up until this point decided it was time to

show the flair that a new pair of white boots in the ranks merited. It

wasn't to be. Consecutive clearance opportunities were passed up before

Phoenix Nights took up the invitation and slid home what would prove to

be a consolation goal.

It was all over bar the karaoke, but there was just enough time in the

game for Ronan to score a penalty to complete the second hat-trick of

the day after an outrageous piece of volleyball on the line by a Phoenix

defender. Final Score: 7-1. Tilburg FC....Coming in your ears.

Attendance: 2 (though I think Danny only came down cos he heard the

referee was a bird)

Match report: Brendan

Sporting Hounslow 0-6 A's

Oh Danny Boy

Oh Danny Boy, the goal, the goal is calling

From wing to wing, there’s nowhere to hide

The chance is gone, and all our hopes are dying

With a banjo, yow couldn’t hit, a cow’s backside.

But come yow back, with the Bees in the meadow

Listen to Sven, he’ll show yow where to go

Yow’ll be benched, and in Damo’s shadow

Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I pity you so.

And if yow miss, when the keeper’s a lying

And we are mad, as mad we may well be

You’ll come and find the place where Stew’s crying

And kneel and say “Yow mad that om yampy?”

And we shall see yow back in the Bees

And all our dreams will be answered please

If yow’ll fail to score with these

We’ll simply point, laugh and tease.

Team: Todd; Thompson, Garfield, Fulwood, Lawrence; Barlow (Jennings 60) Fitzpatrick, Dowd, Smalley; Palmer, Donders

Goals: Donders 3, Barlow, Palmer, Smalley

A's 0 v 4 Barn Elms

Saturday 08 September 2007

No need to dress this one up. Not a good day at the office for Tilburg. Wandsworth Common looked lush-green as a result from being pissed on all ‘summer’, the sun was out and the birds were tweeting so it wasn’t the conditions to point the icy finger of blame at.

Saxondale

Barn Elms made the short trip from just over the other side of Putney and were at the ground bang on time. Amazingly so were a fresh-faced Tilburg. The ref? Ah, he had another game this morning at Regents Park and opted to drive across London. Smart move. For the first few minutes minds were elsewhere as those on the touchline were greeted with a voice saying ‘I bet you haven’t a clue who the f*ck I am’. ‘Er, no actually’ was the collective reply to some bearded Tommy Saxondale / Bill Oddie / Jim Royle hybrid who naturally was an utter c*nt. Turns out this kn*b, seemingly vacated recently from a bird-watching hut in Norwich, was a referee’s assessor. Great. Just piss off a look out for the ref you ugly b*stard.

Low ‘n soft

Once the ref showed, nearly 30mins late, the 2007/08 season was underway. Tilburg lined up with a host of new lads recruited during a fruitful close season however the back four and keeper one had only one major change with Brendan debuting at right-back. Capt Smalley was in the middle with Brummie Danny; Shane and Sam on the wings and Big Adam and Slough Liam were up front.

The bouncy pitch looked a nightmare initially but when both teams did manage to get hold of it and play it on the ground the match opened up and so did the chances. 10mins in the Elms struck. Piling through the middle a mighty scramble in the box followed which ultimately saw the ball fall kindly to a visiting player who smashed in low ‘n soft(!) past Stew’s left. 0-1.

King

Tilburg came back at them. Shane and Sam had some neat touches but Tilburg were, if anything, struck down with a crippling case of ‘Arsenal disease’. Triangles but without really getting anywhere. Then, contrary to being all Alexander Hleb, Danny raced through and danced merrily into the box like Michael Flatley. He was then unceremoniously hacked but an Elms loafer. Penalty. Without Ronan, GK and gawd, even Robin, Tilburg were fresh out of penalty kings. They could have even had Jonathan King rather than Adam whose one-step run up and tap into the diving palms of the Elms No.1 wasn’t the thumping, cool equalizer the ‘Burg were after.

All downhill from here. Elms claimed two quick goals before the break. The first was a fierce corner met with an equally fierce nut into the corner of Stew’s net. The second came as a result of a bit of WWE Smackdown from Rob. The ref ruled that even though the Rugby World Cup had started, the penalty box of an Association Rules Football game in south London was not the best place to emulate. Penalty kick for the visitors. Unlike big Ad, the Barn Elms skipper despatched past a helpless Todd.

NBA

Not one to be outdone, Shane decided that NBA should be on the agenda and did a piece of LeBron James in the penalty area. The ref warned that as Wandsworth had no hoops to shoot a penalty was the sad outcome. This time Adam must have whispered sweet nothings into the ear of the Barn Elms dude who Svenko’d over at high speed.

0-3 at the interval and the ice-creams were conspicuous by their absence. Scottish spittle laced yells were on the menu and frequently served.

Hooves

The second half was muted by comparison. Brendan was outstanding at right back and Brett put in a good stint. Stew was making a large share of flying blocks, one-on-one foiling, and ‘one for the cameras’ saves as the ‘Burg midfield were overrun. Smalley must have wished he slept in as he seemingly had hooves in place of boots. Sam and Shane were desperately trying to release Liam in the final third but the moves broke down like Harry Kewell in a Champions League final. Then suddenly Sam the Greek zipped a ball across the Elms box, Adam’s long strides were outstretched……but the ball sailed over the bar at pace. FCTR were ejected, drunken and embarrassed from the last chance saloon. It just wasn’t the Oranje’s day. A break then made it 0-4 to compound woes and aside from a flurry of corners - with which JT was making a nuisance of himself not usually seen outside a greasy spoon diner – and that was that.

It’s a long season and everyone put in a good, good shift. Hell, even Sowrey got his obligatory two minutes on the park to shout at someone as Liam cramped up and was forced off. The Tilburg lads looked disappointed after the game but a little bit more luck and a little more in the fitness tank and they’d have been right there. This is the time of the season Spurs are top of the Premiership so no-one is worried at this stage. Right?

FCTR. 4-4-1-1. Stew, Brendan, JT, Robbie, Brett; Sam, Danny, Kev, Shane; Adam; Liam (Matty).