Melbourne Park, Chelmsford.
Midway through through the first half, the Mighty Saints are 2-0 down and having a shocker. Our midfield dynamo and captain for the day Solomon Sambou advances on goal, bringing a little bit of hope into the bleakest TLF heart. ‘Shooooot’, we cry and Solomon responds with a disappointing and unsuccessful pass to a colleague.
“Carpe effing diem Solomon!!” shouts TLF. There was a pause, some tumble weed passed TLF and Barry and Trevor raised quizzically eyebrows at this little outburst.
Without doubt the poshest thing TLF has ever shouted at a football match or indeed the pulchra game. I’m not sure where it came from to be honestus (no seriously). I mean obviously we are the Forti Saints from Verulamium, but the Latin isn’t usually part of the terrace Lingua Franca.
Julie had tracked down a parco run as part of our away diem, but the ordnance testing that took place at Gunpowder Park was nothing to do with the occupying Romani and post-run refuelling with a Full Anglicus breakfast has never made TLF feel the need to use the ancient language before.
Still we all needed a diversion, as it really wasn’t looking bonum and the mood was bleak as the ref blew for the end of the first half. Despite the warmth of the September solis, you got the sense that the players would be getting a very chilly reception from the gaffer at half time or dimidium temporis as they call it on Match of the Dies.
Well whatever he said it worked. Within seven minutes of the second half starting, it was 2-2 after two thoroughly deserved penalties had been tucked away by Ralston Gabriel. But Ralston wasn’t finished and by the 67th minute the boys from Verulamium were 4-2 up, which was how it finished.
Us away fans were occupying the twilight zone; somewhere between complete delight and utter bemusement. The wildest optimist wouldn’t have bet on a draw after that first half performance, nevermind a vincere.
Truly a ludum of duo halves.
Perdidit vulpes
Teamius Sheetius.
Oh alright, not really…