The reason this one is crap is because I was bet I couldn’t include as many Robbie Williams references as possible. I have no excuses for everything else.
It was another lazy day at the office for Dyslexics as LAD Galaxy were easily bested and left holding back the tears. Only the woodwork and an innate desire to play “good football” prevented the vermelho e preto from making the margin of victory a double figured one as our erstwhile heroes continued their relentless quest to rule the world.
Following on in Sunday’s vein, Dyslexics produced another blistering start, battering a clearly unprepared Galaxy side and peppering the goal with shots. Although it did take a while for the breakthrough to come, another Dyslexics trademark, after around eight minutes George (who else) sent a crashing shot into the top corner, and victory was assured. As many teams have found, you may be able to hold out for a while, but it only takes a minute for Dyslexics to do their inexorable thing (score). And as every disaster movie aficionado knows, after the first crack in the dam comes the flood.
What followed was a game that was never going to be lost. Superior in every department, Dyslexics tore through the foe time and again, slick combination play reaping massive rewards against a constantly rotating back line. If Sunday’s win was a demonstration of the benefits of squad depth, today showed that nothing can match a consistently selected team that knows how it wants to play. Towards the end of the game, with ball zipping between port, vale and mountaintop in an ever rotating circle, onlookers could have been forgiven for thinking they were watching Barcelona back when they won games.
The Dyslexics forwards could be forgiven for wondering if they’re cursed, such was the frequency of the post being called into action. When the woodwork wasn’t busy denying (seven!) goals, it was the opposition keeper coming out of his area, timewasting and generally being a Grade D (he gets a low grade because his team lost. By a lot.) Dickhead (hidden track).
If there is a key to this team, it is surely Ben Milligan playing as the deepest player. Seemingly every move starts with him receiving the ball and beating the first man before dropping the ball off to someone in space, raking it forward or ploughing through the middle to launch a piledriver goalwards.
Up front George is a law unto himself. Finding yards of space from seemingly nowhere with his almost angelic movement, when he shoots everyone within earshot knows about it. Aiding and abetting this one man Unitt of terror is Sam Fox, all guile, trickery and elbowing people in the ribs. Moo Stringer is (how many times do I have to say this?) a seemingly bottomless pit of pure energy, like Dr Manhattan if he was good at football. But often overlooked is his skill on the ball, the first touch that leaves defenders desperately turning as he’s already gone past them.
The inevitable price of this quality up front is that the team can become stretched and open. It’s at times like this that the covering of Ben, Dave and, later in the game, Moo really come into their own, proving time and again that playing direct football against Dyslexics is akin to giftwrapping and posting the ball back to Tim.
Speaking of the short-clad superman, his throwing was an exceptional highlight, as he got himself three (3) assists against a disorganised defence, as well as getting involved in a hand-to-ball situation the moment he stepped outfield for a ten-minute cameo. Dave really seems to be growing in confidence (it’s like I can read his mind), and disappointed no-one by doing something stupid and needlessly scything down the opposition centre back for no reason whatsoever. What goes on in that lad’s head is a mystery to me, although towards the end he did display one of his famed random acts of kindness, slipping a delectable, moist?, ball through the defence to a lurking Tim.
In short, this was an almost archetypal Dyslexics performance, packed to the seams with control, precision and generally being better than the other team. On yet another day the work was done, and you can’t ask for more than that. Unless you’re greedy.
Goal of the Match: Not a goal this week, but instead one that should have been. Receiving a stunning ball from the back, Moo Stringer kills it dead before flicking it over the head of his onrushing marker. With nary a pause, he juggles it on his knee past another defender before sending the most gracious left footed volley agonisingly wide of the post.
Scorers: George (5), Moo (2), Sam F