Chaos Cup 2007 report

Cast – Richard Shand (capt), his butty Martin, Darren Tandy, his butty Russ, Adrian Colley, Stu Ropke and Paul Shore.

Sick notes - Marc Thomas, Huw Thomas. All the other 150 27 Club members who didn't want to play. At least Marc and Huw nearly turned up.

Location: Douglas Eyre sports ground, wonderful Walthamstow.

Weather: we boiled lobsters on the centre spot

Trophy gained: wooden spoon

All I can say is – we must be the best team ever to win the wooden spoon because no bloody way were we the worst team in the tournament. One more time for emphasis, no bloody way. NO BLOODY WAY. And that’s not just cos I happened to miss both penalties in the crucial penalty shootout. As Oscar Wilde said: To lose one penalty may be regarded as a misfortune, to lose two looks like carelessness. OK maybe it was carelessness, especially the second one which went exactly the same place as my first – I think the keeper caught it with his knees. Show-off. Anyway I bled for this club on Saturday. Not copiously but I have been putting lots of Savlon on my legs as they hurt. Question – where do you put Savlon on a sore psyche?

Yes, boys, it still bloody hurts.

Act 1 – 1927 Club 1 Birmingham 1. The holders were well on the way to a humiliating defeat when, with 30 seconds left, your correspondent confidently let a long ball over his head knowing that keeper Shandy would collect it with an exaggerated roll, like a snared eel, on the floor wasting another 10 seconds in the process. Mistake. Next time head the fucking thing to fucking Andromeda. A Brummie had a different idea, picked up the ball and slammed it home for the equaliser. However I earned the right to a mistake cos I scored our only goal of the tournament with a fearsome lunge between their keeper and last defender from two yards out to win not a 50/50 but a 98/2 ball (the 2 being my theoretical chance of winning the challenge). Please remind me of this goal next time you see me and I’ll buy you a drink and talk about it for 10 minutes. I later heard the defender sadly telling the keeper: “Sorry about that. I didn’t know he was allowed in our box!” Heh, heh, stop polishing your trophies and read the rules next time, suckers!

Act 2 – 1927 Club 0 Stratford Stompers 1. It was disappointing to find out our opponents were locals rather than some hobbledehoy itinerant band of devil-may-care Shakespearean hooligans. Their name has a bit of ring to it, no? Fie on these guys. We should have won this one too. Why? I dunno, I can’t remember anything about the game. Ask someone else.

Act 3 – 1927 Club 0 Celtic 0. Jocks have a deserved reputation for fearsome violence delivered with relish, as anyone who was at Anfield in 1977 will tell you. Having once walked up Gallowgate (top tip: DON’T! Hire a tank) to watch the Bhoys play Tel Aviv, their name on the fixture list commanded instant respect and I wore seven shinpads on each leg. Maybe that was why I felt a bit tired. However, it’s only fair to point out that our opponents were not at all inclined to behave in line with their reputation and were remarkably fair-minded. Russ played very well and so did Tandy. It’s official – Glaswegians are cuddly.

Act 4 – Plate semi-final: 1927 Club 0 Sarfend 1. Cor blimey we wuz well up for this rumble but one of their geezers burst through second ‘arf, larged it towards Shandy. Wallop, 1-0. Sweet. Fancy losing to Sarfend eh? Gutted!

Act 5 – Wooden spoon play-off 1927 Club 0 Orientear 0. Another glorious 0-0 draw. Christ how did we not win this one? Suppose it helps to have a shot from within 10 yards but bloody hell the gathered crowd of 50 rabid Orienteers were begging the ref to blow for full-time more or less from the start. I swear I heard them trying to persuade blackbirds to mimic the ref’s whistle so they could proceed to their cunning plan of penalties which they had obviously been practising for months, if not decades. Anyway it went to penalties. Ask me about the penalties and I’ll thump you.

The ref was Scottish, maybe we can blame him. And as the guilty penalty-taker I’m blaming just about bloody everybody.

Torquay won the cup, beating lucky Birmingham in the final. Full marks to our skipper for trudging round to Number 29 Edward Road and saying in a high-pitched voice: “Can we have our ball back please?” after it was booted into No 29’s pond (did we murder any guppies lads?) and also for some classy goalkeeping. Scott Thomas may have played his last game for the 27 Club. It has to be said we were extremely hard to score against but lacked punch up front. We are all absolutely adamant that we played far better than our final rating.

Best quote: Tandy, recalling the day we were showered with all sorts of unspeakable Italian effluent in Milan at Wales v Pisschuckers in 2003, all of it emanating from within the heartless Italian hoolies’ own bodies: “It was just like an episode of Tiswas.”

Best player: our ringer Russ. Turned up in specs and wearing a Man U shirt and baseball cap. Played the whole of the five games wearing specs, Man U shirt and a baseball cap and, blow me, always a tricky customer and barely a trace of sweat on the cap at the end of the day.

Next year – I’m playing cricket instead.