A Classic Cup Final

Perhaps an unfortunate turn of phrase for the Bristol Churches shield final, but it was one hell of a game.



Our opponents Rock Crusaders hit the post early on with a miss-hit cross. It was quite a let off as we've conceded far too many goals already this season from miss-hit crosses. Our keeper was left flailing...





After the early scare we were holding our own against the higher division team, and James Taylor soon put us infront after Nick had miscued a shot across the 6-yard box. 1-0.



We held onto the lead for about three minutes when they scored direct from a 40-yard free-kick, after everyone including our keeper had missed the ball on it's way through the penalty area. 1-1.





Shortly before half time, the ref (who apparently looks just like Mike Roberts' Dad) made Pete take his wedding ring off...



At half time the score was 1-1, and chances had been few and far between. Ten minutes into the second half we regained the lead when their keeper parried Neil Watkins' long shot onto his own post. The ball bounced across the goal line and yours truly was in the right place to head it into the net from about eight inches. 2-1.

Here I am getting mobbed by James. As you can see, the crowd was going mental...



This time we held onto the lead for about five minutes, which was a slight improvement on the first. 2-2.

It was pretty demoralising to concede the lead so soon yet again, but we were definitely still in the game.



Sure enough, our top scorer James popped up yet again with a peach of a goal. 3-2.

Having gone ahead for the third time with twenty minutes left, we were determined to hold onto the lead this time.





We battled harder than ever before, and even hit the post and forced some good saves from their keeper to prevent us taking a 4-2 lead. However, in the last minute they equalised with a pile driver that flew into the top corner from 25 yards. It was the only way they were going to score, and we were gutted (not least because it meant playing for another half an hour, and we were exhausted). 3-3.



We all dug deep and amazingly we took the lead yet again five minutes into extra time when Chew headed in a corner (via a wicked deflection from their number 6, but we'll let Chew claim it)...



4-3!

Surely the game was ours now. After taking the lead for the fourth time, we walked slowly back for the restart and all reminded each other to concentrate and keep it tight for the rest of the game.

They equalised within 20 seconds of the kick-off, with a killer of a goal that trickled under our keeper's flop. 4-4.

At half time of extra-time we looked shattered. I for one felt like I had hit what runners refer to as 'the wall', and my legs felt like jelly. If we could keep it tight for 15 minutes we fancied our chances of winning on penalties.

A few minutes into the second half we went behind for the first time in the game with a deflected long shot. 4-5.

Gutted. But we kept battling and very nearly got the equaliser once or twice, until we were hit on the break in the final minute and ended up losing the game 4-6.

So, my first ever final ended in defeat, but at least Chew and myself got onto the scoresheet. Here we are displaying our 'shield finalist' medals with pride...



Finally, after going down so well last time, it's the return of 'Spot the Ball'...



What do you reckon?