Whistleblower

In case you missed it on the first Hall of Fame night


 
The sound of the Verve’s bitter sweet symphony played in the ears of Gallagher as he bumped his way through the mass of shoppers flocking to High Street, Pontmorlais Merthyr Tydfil.
 
Dressed in a  mod parka, thirty years behind the fashion he made his way towards the steps adjacent to the old YMCA building which was in desperate need of repair.
 
The self-proclaimed ‘Lino-Stalker’ wasn’t worried about being hit by falling masonry- he was hard….Merthyr Hard.
 
He didn’t come to Penydarren Park for the football…he came for the  hour and a half of venom he could inject into the football officials.
 
He hated all authority and football was the last untouched bastion of the bigot, the thug and the abuser ,where he could spew his bile and rant at the linesman and referees that gave up their time to make sure independence and fair play prevailed.
 
Well that was the theory.
 
As he passed the turnstiles, pretending to be a student of the Open University, he got a concession to £5.00 – he laughed at the entry fee- he made more than that cash in hand as a DJ in a local valleys nightclub and treble that selling Imodium and Horse Tranquilisers to pissed students in the club toilet on the weekend, passing them off as ecstasy.
 
In a way,  if you had diarrhoea , Imodium WOULD be ecstasy.
 
The team was announced over the intercom by a former mayor.
 
He did manage to get three names of the home side correct this week.
 
Merthyr Town were playing their biggest game for years, the Semi Final of the Welsh Cup versus North Walian opposition Bangor City.
 
It was a repeat of the 1987 match,  in which Merthyr Town had gone on to lift the Welsh Cup and play in the European Cup Winners Cup, for the first time- losing gracefully and narrowly to Serie A Team Atlanta Bergamo.
 
The team was nicknamed the Martyrs, after the Tydfil the Martyr murdered by Picts in the Dark Ages.
 
The fans were bigger Martyrs for having watched the standard of football for the last 25 years and since the floodlight failures of 2009 were still in the Dark Ages.
 
Fans of the Town were easily pleased, they cheered when three successive passes were completed.
 
 
 
Penydarren Park was stuck in a time warp, like most of its fans, most remembering the chants of ‘ Webley, Webley  we’re the famous Merthyr Town and we’re going with Webley…. !”
 
It would have been a good chant but the match wasn’t played in London but
Ninian Park Cardiff.
 
Gallagher was only a teenager then in 1987 and had barely been admitted to Borstal by this time.
 
In 1987, he was unable to watch the football as he was too  busy being bummed by the guards, dressed in black uniforms.
 
A latchkey kid since he was three , he had left school at 11 and had to fend for himself since.
 
His  alcoholic mother had once told him that his father was a famous English Football referee and that she had ‘blown his whistle’ around the back of ‘Strikers Club’  every time he came to Merthyr.
 
Gallagher was merely getting his own back on authority and in a perverse way trying to make contact with his estranged dad.
 
Being the son of a referee,  born out of wedlock, made him doubly-qualified to be called a bastard.
 
His mam never revealed the exact name  of his father, but he knew from his mother that he was very fit and could last 90 minutes sometimes with extra time and penalties.
 
The teams filed onto the pitch- Merthyr Town in its traditional black & white and Bangor City contrasting in red.
 
Music from 1987 continued to blare from the ancient speakers as the two teams lined up.
 
There were not many teams out there that still had a Chas N Dave football tape.
 
As suddenly as the strains of the Argentine voice of Ossie Ardiles faded and a ‘Cup for Totting…ham’ was consigned to history’ (for another week) the voice of the ex-Mayor returned with a vengeance as he asked all three spectators in the David Miles stand to be quiet as they were to hold a minutes silence.
 
The referee ,his assistants and the players from both teams bowed their heads as a mark of respect.
 
The crowd and the players were puzzled as nobody had in fact died that week in neither Bangor or Merthyr.
 
It turned out to be an old message about someone called ‘Buddy Holly’.
 
To the roar of the crowd both in Saesneg and Welsh, the referee finally blew his whistle to start the game.
 
Len S Crafter wasn’t well experienced in refereeing.
 
The only big matches he had been in charge of were giant Swan Vestas, which he used  for his weekend Scout Troop in Newtown , Powys.
 
He wasn’t biased one  way or another, he was  completely neutral as both he and his linesmen who hailed from  the Birmingham and Hull areas originally- he was just hopeless.
 
Gallagher didn’t care if they were the best officials in the World he hated them all.
 
As both teams tested each other out so did the fans.
 
The hooligan fans from Bangor were known as the ‘Bash Street Kids’.
 
There was a small wire mesh between their Merthyr counterparts- the internationally renowned Dregs Firm Choir.
 
“ What you looking at …you Nosy Parker!” said the Gog peering through the away end which was segregated from the old men in the main stand.
 
The red haired steward in the luminous yellow tabard (with ‘Property of Railtrack Plc’ removed in black felt pen)   turned round at the mention of his name.
 
Bravely, he walked up to the wire and told the 13 year old kid to be quiet.
 
The baby Gog wasn’t alive when his father had smashed the front windscreen of the Junior Martyrs coach in 1987 but the steward was.
 
He and his wife and children had to eat flies all the way back from North Wales for some four hours.
 
He wouldn’t forget the experience.
 
Closer to the touchline, Gallagher was in full cry.
 
The Linesman had flagged Steino offside…he claimed that his feet were onside but his beer belly was just off.
 
Gallagher took in a giant suck of air through his nostrils, made a disgusting sound in his mouth and flobbed out a giant green lugie with amazing accuracy at the linesman.
 
 
 
 
It was judged with years of experience, from some 20 feet away  allowing for wind direction and movement it landed in the  hair of the lino –and hung like a yellow laburnum branch for the rest of the game.
 
Perhaps it was the momentary distraction,  as he felt something land in his Kevin Keegan tribute perm but the lino missed Bangor City Striker George Huws  take a tumble in the Merthyr Penalty Box with no defender anywhere near him.
 
The lino seizing his S4C camera moment raised his flag for a penalty bilingually.
 
A huge divot had come up from beneath the pitch.
 
It was in fact a dead Roman Legionnaire, who had risen from his grave in the Roman Fort beneath the pitch, who had recognised the shouting and screaming of the warring Welsh Tribes of the South Walian Silures and the Druid led Deceangli from the North and thought he was being attacked again.
 
The unsighted referee had no option but to award a penalty- for the first time ever- Tubbs really hadn’t touched him.
 
Super fan, Gordon Bennett  rolled the pitch to flatten the bump so that penalty taker Arthur Picton couldn’t do a John Terry and blame  a hole for missing a penalty (or was that just training).
 
Dave ‘Statto’ Woody sat behind the goal on his racing cycle in full lycra suit, spouting to all that would listen, the facts of the last time a penalty was given at this exact time in the match …who were the opponents, date , year , what number the player wore and also his star sign and favourite music.
 
“ Those blokes behind the goal on the Theatre End are making horrible ugly faces ….their trying to put me off…!” protested Picton as Joe Perry wind-milled his arms imitating cheating  Liverpool Goalie Jersey Dudek .
 
“ Their not trying to put you off !” whispered Captain Steve Willo, busy swimming in a puddle on the edge of the penalty area…” They are really THAT UGLY….why do you think the Home Players don’t go near them to celebrate their goals…that lot were extras in the horror film ‘The Hills have Dais’
 
Picton looked up at  regular fans Crazy Eyes,  Carl Pilkington and Goat-herder and realised he was speaking the truth.
 
Picton steeled himself for the run up and sent Joe Perry the wrong way.
 
Athletically, like a cat falling from a ten storey building, he changed direction mid air, only for the ball to hit a divot on the Porthcawl Sandbank that was the penalty area, and spin in the opposite direction and nestle in the corner of the net.
 
Even then Joe’s right toenail had clipped the ball.
 
 
 
“1-0 to the Bangor Boys!” screamed the away end completely in Welsh.
 
The language barrier didn’t prevent the Home fans believing it was yet another referee who wasn’t a ‘Homer’.
 
A rapid note was made in the notebook of anorak fan, Mr Bean as he noted the goal time for his  Martyrs Scrap book.
 
His football diary was more comprehensive than Anne Frank , Samuel Pepys and John Motson.
 
He missed the female streaker that ran on the pitch in doing so.
 
15 minutes and 3 seconds, he scribbled with a black and white ‘C’mon the Martyrs’ pen bought from the Club shop in 1987.
 
He ignored the excitement , unlike the man you can ‘trust’, Custer Strand who made a mental note to get the grounds-man to mow that  long grass near the box.
 
Walton already had his scythe in his hand and was  busy chasing the trespasser out of the ground.
 
The Home team meanwhile, redoubled their efforts and some wonderful wing play saw Marcus Griffiths outstrip the away defence, only to be told to remove the ‘jet pack’ from his back by the other linesman from Hull.
 
To a crescendo of boos from the  Reddy Money Stand, ironically named in honour of two of the great Merthyr Town Patrons- to raise funds for the club…he reluctantly agreed.
 
At one time, the Club was so desperate for a cash injection, it had to have a whip round on the Cardiff City Bob Bank to find 50p for the electricity meter to feed the floodlights.
 
It  took the ‘importunity’ to  name the toilets in honour of Pop star George Michael who sent some of his royalties to keep the club from ‘going down’ the toilet.
 
Russian  Oil Billionaires, ex hooligans, radio celebrities and even bankers were courted – anyone-who could help keep the Club afloat.
 
But as usual it was the ‘little people’ – the die-hard fans, all supporters direct ,that were en’trust’ed with its survival and out of the ashes of Merthyr Tydfil AFC was spawned the ‘Phoenix Club’ of Merthyr Town.
 
Thanks also to  a bunch of Taffies down the road too , who offered their sloping pitch to the Town as they were so inclined.
 
 
 
Back on the pitch, Bangor City huffed and puffed towards getting a second as the ball skills of their defender Bryn Coch and their powerhouse Wali Thomas who encouraged the team with cries of ‘C’mon Midfield’.
 
Gallagher , on hearing the roar from the Bangor fans decided to ‘sledge’ the gob covered lino again into making a mistake….checking his programme, he noticed that the assistant referee on this side was called Ritchie Wonder.
 
“ Lino…Ritchie… you have been putting that  offside flag up all afternoon…doesn’t your arm hurt!” he said lulling the official into a false sense of social security.
 
“And while you are on this sideline…..whose shagging your missus…John Terry and Ryan Giggs are both playing ‘away’ today…..All Night Long  Lino Ritchie…All Night Long!” said Gallagher
 
The Lino only took his eyes off the Park for a split second  , for the offside Ryan Prosser to score passed their keeper Tecs Morgan.
 
The Messiah, with his Christ-like beard and ability to hang up for crosses was hero once again.
 
The poor man was then surrounded legitimately by the Bangor defence, who complained like they were undone unjustly, just like Man Utd did every week on Match of the Day.
 
As it wasn’t   Man Utd , the lino wouldn’t change his mind…the goal stood.
 
1-1
 
The Martyrs Fans went crazy….singing their local hero Gallagher’s name  in a ‘Wonderwall of Sound….as he was credited with the assist .
 
Throwing their hip replacements  out, tossing their wigs and dai caps in the air and pointing their walking sticks and zimmer frames  menacingly at the North Walians.
 
The Bash Street Kids reacted angrily by making V-signs and pelting the crowd behind the goal with sharpened coins and darts.
 
Most of the theatre end hid behind their self-styled leader Gordon Bennett who took all their punishment and chanted back ‘Who Are You?” repeatedly inciting the horde of vandals further.
 
With a Pavarotti-sized diaphragm he could out shout anyone.
 
His voice was once heard at Taff’s Well when he was standing in Penydarren Park.
 
They started tearing down all the advertising hoardings causing the loss of advertising revenue totalling £10.00.
 
 
 
They then threw these onto the pitch at the Merthyr Defence.
 
Alan Griffiths, a sponsors dream, didn’t lose his focus, he just caught the Aberdare Solicitors logo in the cheeks of his arse and cleared the ball, making sure the sponsors name was visible for the S4C cameras the whole time.  
 
The ex-Mayor Mr Chloride, too turned purple with rage at the lack of respect.
 
Their worse behaved than the other lot in the Council Chamber he thought.
 
He began to get worried as a rumour went round the Candac Suite,  that the Bangor Hooligans  were in possession of flares and having witnessed a sad event in a Wales Match at the Millenium Stadium began to fret.
 
After all they wouldn’t want it to damage Strikers Club.
 
The truth was that the Bash Street Kids WERE in possession of flares but only because they were Forty years behind the fashion in North Wales, and were still wearing those kind of jeans to accompany their burberry ‘casual’ jackets and River Island hooligan-wear.
 
The Merthyr Mob, the Dregs Firm Choir were clad in Poundstretcher shirts swiped from the Cardiff Offices that closed overnight in 2012.
 
Mr Chloride had heard that music affected the mood of the crowd and searched vainly for the CD of Lift Musak that had served the club well for the last 40 years.
 
Unfortunately, by accident he loaded a CD of the Kaiser Chiefs belonging to
bar steward Steve Rees and track one…’I predict a riot’ was followed by lots of ‘Ruby’ as the two sets of fans clashed on the pitch as the players trooped off to an early whistle for Half-Time.
 
In the middle of this mayhem , stalwart fan Len Sankey tried to sell the Bangor City players soccalot tickets.
   
It was unusual for the officials to send themselves off for an ‘early bath’ but as Richie Wonder was covered in more spittle than a spittoon in the Wyndham Arms , he had had a gob full anyway.
 
The Police intervened for the first time ever at Penydarren Park and the North Walians were put back in their cage and given a police cordon.
 
At half-time, the anonymous Neanderthal cave-painter who locked himself in the Candac suite bog recorded the score on the cubicle walls in his favourite material.
 
Who needs to check the vidi-printer or sky sports news,  when we have Merthyr’s own ‘Shatto’ to keep score.
 
 
Appeals for calm were made over the tannoy system by the Ex-Mayor, asking ‘Colwyn Bay FC ‘ to refrain from breaking our stadium -as we’d only just had clearance from the English FA that it was acceptable for promotion up to and including Premiership Standard.
 
Heysel Stadium or Hillsborough standard that was.
 
The Second Half got under way and Merthyr’s Brian Clough and Peter Taylor decided they would have to make changes as the game was being televised and so the substitutions were made with the Good Shepherd and Get Carter came on to see if they could ‘get’ the winner.
 
With a combined age of over 150 years and one good knee between the pair, the veterans played out their own testimonials.
 
With ten minutes of the second half gone,  Bangor’s George Huws  dived in two-footed on the showboating Carter  who lost not only his boot but his right foot in the challenge .
 
Lens Crafter didn’t even give a foul.
 
Old Shep picked up the boot and ‘tuckered’ it under his  shorts waistband for later.
 
Carter played on, one footed until his stump got trapped in the centre circle.
 
He was stuck there like a rotary line, as play went on around him as the Barry Town ‘Wurzel Gummidge ‘ tried to desperately to move.
 
Suddenly , the ball was picked up on the right by Club Captain Steve Baywatch, who ghosted past the mid- fielder like Willo the wisp,  then exchanged a picture perfect pass with Dorrian Gray in a fine one two…he crossed the ball towards the diminutive  Shep who headed the ball passed the keeper to make it 2-1 to the Home Team.
 
No-one could understand it…. Old Shep was only four foot in stocking feet….but on this occasion he had appeared to have grown an extra foot.
 
Everyone on the ‘condemned’ side of the ground thought it was the best bicycle-kick goal ever to be scored at Penydarren Park.
 
Only Mr Bean knew otherwise.
 
He marked the goal on his pocket book down to a Carter assist.  
 
He had missed the streaker but this was the only ‘booty call’ he wanted to have.
 
They say a football team is at is most vulnerable when it has just scored.
 
That  saying isn’t true of Merthyr Town FC they are vulnerable at the back whatever time of the match it is.
 
It only takes a Shep Back pass to turn attack into defence.
 
Merthyr no sooner than the game had restarted than they were down to 10 men.
 
The referee booked the disabled Carter for obstruction in the centre circle and sent him off for refusing to move from his spot.
 
Three of the coaches had to dig him out of the cloying mud to get the restart restarted.
 
No sooner than it had  but Bangor scored through midfielder Wali Thomas with a shot that bounced off a beach-ball  buried in the Trecco Bay sponsored penalty area  .
 
This time the fault for the goal wasn’t down to the players.
 
It was in fact the first goal that the crowd had actually conceded.
 
The beach ball was a souvenir of Gordon Bennett’s end of season trip to
Weston Super-Mare  and he had buried it in a drunken state to mess with opposition goalkeepers heads.
 
It was another mare for Merthyr this time, as the goal was allowed to stand and Bennett was booed by the players in retaliation for all those years of endless barracking he had given them.
 
In the words of the other supporters Merthyr had been given their
‘Wakey, Wakey ‘ Call .
 
As if supported by the ghosts of past players from the famous ground, photographs from Harman’s camera showed Bill Hullett clearing every ball  in the air over the penalty box, Jarman trapping the ball in his oversize shorts stopping the ball from going for corners and Ceri Williams line of 50 empty Newcastle Brown Bottles stopping the ball from crossing the goal line….or was that a trick of the light (Brown Ale) .
 
At one point a mad scramble in the Martyrs penalty box, the ball deflected up in the air off Joe Leahy and in the ensuing  operation ‘desert storm’ the Bangor players lost sight of the ball.
 
The ball was put over the Martyrs line but to due lack of goal-line technology at the park it was disallowed – Mr Bean recorded that the lucozade bottle in Perry’s goal had helped .
 
The  Hull lino had flagged as two of the Bangor City players having lost the ball in flight were busy kicking lumps out of Tubbs midriff.
 
They genuinely thought he had tucked the ball up his Trade Centre Wales sponsored top.
 
 
 
 
 
 
90 Minutes and two  periods of extra time came and went with Lens Crafter still hopeful of a lift back on the Bangor City coach …..looked to see how much Ferguson Time he could on ‘legitimately’ .
 
It was the first time 16 minutes extra time had been added on to extra time for years but still the Martyrs held on.
 
Some of the older Bangor City players were starting to drop.
 
Arthur Picton in particular, at the age of 50 wanted to emulate Sir Stanley Matthews and not finish  his playing days till he was 57 years of age.
 
He always gave his all…he was a whole hearted player.
 
He had never before reached a final in over 41 years and like most Liverpool players he was trophy-less.
 
He was sweating in the May sunshine and his heart was racing.
 
The Cup Semi-Final was to be decided on the lottery of penalties.
 
That cruellest of fates.
 
Bangor City drew up their list of ex-Wrexham players and semi-pro’s who were used to  the big occasions that the  League of Wales regularly held.
 
Merthyr with its Premiership hopefuls, ex Cardiff City rejects and of course the criminally insane, drew lots to see who would be the unlucky ones to get sent on and end up in a future ‘Pizza Hut’ commercial.
 
Penalties shootouts was not about who could score but more importantly whose arse would go when the pressure of letting the team down got inside a players mind.
 
Bangor City had selected George Huws, Wali Thomas and his bald brother Mickey, Tecs Cottage-Burner and of course the evergreen Arthur Picton.
 
Merthyr’s alternative Soccalot draw had Badger, Hartshorn, Steino, Prosser and of course Mattie Harris in the hot seat.
 
The whistleblower lined them up and sent Bangor to the Theatre End to take the first penalty.
 
George Huws complete with Alice band against the fresh face of Joseph Perry.
 
After a short run up, Perry dived to his left and palmed the ball athletically past the post.
 
As Badger  strode up   to the penalty spot, he looked the part, black n white kit matching his black and white hair, he ‘Sett’ himself , hit the ball fiercely but knew immediately that he was in a hole.
 
Hans Little, the Dutch amateur international goalkeeper stood tall.
 
He was the first thalidomide keeper to make it to the green jersey of Bangor City and got a hand to it and tipped it over the bar.
 
“I hope that isn’t going to be on Martyrs TV!” he groaned.
 
Conscious not to look a real wally,  Wali Thomas picked up the ball and made his way up to the spot.
 
Perry watched his movement looking for signs of body language like his father, Ex Cardiff City Tennis Coach , Fred had told him.
 
He looked his rival in the eye and stared him down.
 
 
Wali missed the goal completely.
 
Joseph celebrated with a punch in the air and a walk, the Gurnos boys would be proud of.
 
Hartshorn was next up,  but ballooned the ball over the bar , only to hear Owen Money joke that the ball hadn’t even landed in the same postcode.
 
Mickey Thomas was next, , he hit the ball sweetly high towards the net only for Perry to do a ‘Colombian Scorpion Kick’ away.
 
The ever reliable Steino was next, the ex Leeds United Professional had been the fans favourite for the last decade- he missed for the first in his career….and it was only because Gordon Bennett behind the goal predicted he wouldn’t.
 
Tecs Cottage burner was next and sent one so hot that it would have burned a hole in any other  keepers gloves.
 
But not that genie-us Peri,… Aladdin Goal…. that slave of  the sandy penalty box.
 
“ Closed sesame!” he declared as he ran back from his usual position on the half-way line diving  towards Mecca (Bingo).
 
He had done his homework and put in a pair of asbestos gloves just in case….but just for fun had saved it with his nob.
 
“ Don’t get cocky…next time!” barked his father from the stand.
 
Four penalties each and still 0-0 .
 
It was typical non-league standard.
 
Prosser was next and following Hartshorn’s lead hit it complete- lee up in the air like a Garry Owen.
 
“ Ryan Air!” said Money again.
 
“ Keep the ball down lads !” shouted Matthew George from his stand.
 
“ You can’t see the sponsor board for FIRST 4 RENTALS otherwise!” he shouted loud enough for it to be picked up by the sound engineer for S4C.
 
The veteran Arthur Picton looked at Matthew Harris who had his shirt off.
 
The shirt sponsor had told him he wanted it now (as he had been out injured all season  in case he got it dirty) and as the £50.00 had already been paid so he couldn’t exactly refuse.  
 
There was no pity…they both knew it was gladiatorial stuff on the former Roman Fort Pitch.
 
One would  leave the amphitheatre end as Russell Crowe and the other by a ‘Southgate’.
 
The ‘my little pony’ tattoo on Matthew’s torso,  he had got on the end of the season tour didn’t make him feel manly…it seemed like a good idea at the time.
 
Picton was sweating …his blood pressure was through the roof…almost as high as Gordon Bennett’s when he was relaxing, miss and Bangor were as good as out.
 
Rushing up to the ball, anal sphincter on overload, he took a swipe at the ball with his left leg and collapsed on the floor in a heap.
 
“ Jeepers ….!” said the three Everton fans behind the goal….” So that’s why they call it  sudden death!” said Papa Bear.
 
“ Crikey!...  he really isn’t moving!” said  Middle Bear .
 
“ F***ing get up!....he’s bastard acting…the cheating C***!” said Baby Bear.
 
“ Where did you learn to swear like that!” asked the referee astonished at the reaction of the child dressed in a blue Everton romper suit.
 
“ On these terraces…!” he replied” and my F***ing porridge will be  going cold too!” said the nipper.
 
“ He did touch it !” shouted Anthony Hughes to the referree unsympathetically as £ sign’s appeared before his eyes.
 
“ Rule 133b of the Geneva Convention….says that if a player moves the ball off its spot during a penalty then it cannot be retaken!” said Wolvesy flashing his Welsh FA Badge like a cop from CHIPS.
 
The whistle blower referee looked confused.
 
If it hadn’t been for the whistle blowing through the left ventricle of Mr Picton’s heart he wouldn’t be in this predicament.
 
The whole hearted player had played for forty years without knowing he had a hole in his heart.
 
The referee looked at both linesmen for assistance but Lino Ritchie just put his head down and wouldn’t help.
 
He just made those ‘Well your the referee…you decide’ sort of eyes!”
 
The Hull Linesman , Prescott was too busy fighting with Gallagher having landed two jabs on his chin before jumping over the First 4 Rentals signboard Cantona Style as the shit hit the fan.
 
All the while , Harris stood motionless, he was always afraid to move too much on the pitch in case he got injured again.
 
The referee signalled for him to take the  penalty kick.
 
He walked up to the penalty spot on wobbly legs like  Liverpool goalkeeper Bruce Grobbelaar – it wasn’t an attempt to put the keeper off…. it was just the way his dodgy ankles had  been set last time in the Queen Camilla hospital.
 
The white Brazilian playmaker was to have his  15 seconds of fame.
 
In a noisy packed stadium, an eerie calm came over him and a ghostly voice appeared in his ear.
 
It  had tones of the Rhondda  in it ….it was the legendary winger, Ceri ‘Georgie’ MacWilliams….who had scored last time in 1987.
 
“ Ceri…. whispered back Mattie…I didn’t know you were dead!”
 
“ I’m not you daft sod…I’m on Real Radio…you left your ear-piece in on the Sixty -Sixty  coach ride here!”  said Bestie.
 
“ Listen to me…..follow the  line of tarmac I laid behind the goal….that keeper dives to his left!” said the voice.
 
“ Tarmac?” asked Harris….”No wonder we have to resurface the Theatre End…he did it last time!”
 
“ No problem!” came the reply.
 
Harris ran up…put his foot through the ball and it spun wildly….his foot not the ball that is….and not just ‘One Direction’.
 
The keeper dived in a completely different direction to that MacWilliams had said.
 
Mattie hit it to the keepers left but due to his mis-shapen  Brazilian boots it curled in the air over the keeper and into the roof of the net…through the giant holes missed by the Prescott the linesman…. hitting Bennett off the wall like humpty dumpty.
 
Bennett didn’t care …he didn’t mind taking one for the team…after all it was only his beer money that had kept the club afloat for years.  
 
The crowd went wild with excitement as European Football  beckoned.
 
The Bangor fans were escorted out of the stadium in a police cordon but still managed to smash the St Mary’s Catholic Church choir bus windscreen on the walk down the Walk.
 
Len S Crafter walked off the pitch but was pushed backwards by Gallagher in Paulo Di Cannio style as he tottered like Paul Alcock into the away team dugout.
 
The Club had its finest hour .
 
But like Everton because of the Liverpool fans in 1985 , Merthyr were banned from Europe by the actions of their fans.
 
The ultimate ‘Whistleblower’ – the match officials had included the crowd disturbances to the FA.
 
Who instead of living up to their name- didn’t do Sweet FA this time.
 
They banned Merthyr from Europe.
 
Happy days if you were a red.

First time I've read this, brilliant. Made me chuckle quite a few times.   

Yes - must have taken a lot of work. Well done.

MTFC's answer to War & Peace!
A good laugh. Really enjoyed reading it. (Boz's musings, not War & Peace) 

A labour of love written over the course of a weeks lunch hours two years ago...it sums up Merthyr Town, it's fans and the spirit that we have in the club...glad you enjoyed it...it is just 1 of a total of 155 stories about the Valleys I have written since 1999....Boz

For those fans who may have missed it....here is a blast from the past....Boz