Unbelievable Jeff ( Hurley)

Unbelievable Jeff (Hurley)
Never mind Soccer Saturday, what was witnessed through the 'Kamara' lens of Merthyr Town photographer Peter Harman last night, was truly unbelievable.
The Ten Men of Merthyr teaching fifth placed Tiverton Town a footballing lesson they won't forget.
On a bitterly cold Tuesday Night, high up in the South Wales Valleys- so cold that the dairy farmers of Abergavenny were forced to slip into a warm Jersey before they left -the Home Faithful were treated to a game of football that will long live on in the memory as one of the absolute classics.
A Max Boyce-style ' I was there' boast that is complimented by a warm smile from fellow Martyrs.
Now the game itself starting innocently enough with the highlight of the first ten minutes being a thunderous shot from the multi-talented 'Jean-ius', Levi Landricombe, which rattled the bar and disoriented our keeper Joe Perry.
It was so powerful a strike that it had the effect of shrinking our 3G penalty area.
That could have only been the reason behind our keeper's bout of 'Madness'.
(He went 'one step beyond' - Ownes) as he decided to turn into the 'Catcher in the Rye' and handle the ball outside the box.
Referee Rob Cockle had only brought one card with him in his Gestapo Uniform and unfortunately for Perry it was red.
With the away fan pointing and laughing at 'Joke Perry', Merthyr Town did the unthinkable and set about Tiverton Town, as if their players were recruited from Madame Tussaud 's.
I for one thought that Cockle had ruined the game as a spectacle but on a bizarre note the sending off of Perry actually galvanised the ten men into a feat of sporting excellence that I have never before witnessed first hand.
The decimation of Tiverton started with a free kick from the right wing, which was 'converted' by the Ponty-iff Prosser, who executed a 'miraculous' two footed volley past the out-'stretched' limbs of Tivvy keeper Liam 'Armstrong'.
The passion of the Christ was there for all to see, as he celebrated wildly with his teammates -like it was his first ever goal for Ton Pentre.
Experience has taught the Holy Beard not to reach up and swing from the crossbar - otherwise he would nailed to it again by the opposing fan from Romans.
With the poor Away side having to journey by cars and not coach, it was no wonder they looked a little off colour, especially as their kit was a shade of 'Devon Custard'.
But then again there was no excuse for their tactic of hurling themselves to the floor like a tantrum-throwing toddler in a supermarket checkout line on a frozen pitch.
But then again Devon Custard does go down well with an Arctic Roll.
Now last season, Tiverton justly took all three points after a wonder performance from Landricombe, who singlehandedly put Merthyr to the sword with his power shooting and accuracy on goal.
But tonight even he was eclipsed by the second goal scored by new number 8 Lee Lucas.
The predecessor to Eminem (L & L) hit His net-buster was hit with more venom than Steve Irwin's autopsy, as the shot flew in from a distance of about 8-Mile turning Keeper Armstrong into Liam Armstrain.
The ageing crowd in my stand celebrated with a series of Irish Jigs and unbridled OAP joy last seen in the film Cocoon.
I hope they all find their correct sets of dentures.
2-0 to the ten men and the sound of Bucks Fizz popping from the Prawn Sandwich Brigade in the hospitality boxes signalled that we were now in the 'Land of Make Believe'.
But Town weren't finished embarrassing the Gold Army.
It was time for the Ian Traylor Show.
His first came just before the interval, before even by-standing Referee Cockle could use the half-time break to locate where he left all of the yellow cards he should have awarded to the men clad in yellow shirts, yellow shorts and yellow socks.
I hope they charged him a spectator fee on the gate.
There is a saying in deepest darkest Devon:- If you can't beat 'em , foul 'em or take 'em into custardy.
And the punishment dished out to the Holy Beard left him a marked man in more than one sense of the Holy Word.
He must have felt that Referee Cockle had forsaken him.
Our fouler which art from Devon hallowed was thy name...as Cockle once again put his head in the 'sand' and refused to book a single Tiverton player.
Watching the leniency from the sidelines, SuperGav - with an impeccable disciplinary record himself-sought to try his own luck by booting footballs onto the pitch, at the same time as they had already been retrieved.
An exhibition in time wasting par excellence.
But you can't keep a good 'Lan' down forever.
Levi Landricombe that is , or to give him his Welsh nickname- Attiver the Ton (the Scourge of God) popped up in the box with a powerful header which passed backhand goalkeeper Joe Hunt to hint at a comeback.
And with the young Devonites starting to build up a head of steam with their extra man advantage, the game began to 'churn' in favour of the butter mountains.
The busy Landricombe reenacted his own Soccer PM crossbar challenge, as he hit it for both the second and third time that evening.
The Merthyr goal seemed to have a charmed life, as Assistant Manager, Wikipedia's own Dean Clark, changed a few letters on the team sheet and full back Joe Hunt suddenly became goalkeeper Joe Hart.
To ironic cries of 'England...England's Number 1' , he set about saving with his feet when Bath was 'clean' through.
For the rest of the time, the 'perfect ten' defended from the front, with Prosser, Traylor and the footballing colossus, Craig McDonnell guarding the Home Goal from the Gold Army, as if it was the gold depository at Fort Knox.
And soon entering the field of play came another nugget.
Kerry-Gold to act as a golden suppository to finish off Tiverton.
To form a partnership with Captain Marble - an occasional 'butter' himself, that showed there was not only skill, speed and agility but a steel backbone running down the spine of the team.
With the young Tiverton full back lying prone after an off the ball incident not spotted by either the officials nor fans alike- one wondered if he had been struck by a mystery virus, either of the above innocents or merely slipped into the path of El Dorado.
But the entertainment for the night wasn't over.
Ian Traylor produced the best curler since Hilda Ogden and Mr Whippy was caught having a shit, as he bent his shot around the stranded Armstrong and into the top right hand corner to cue much celebration from the Merthyr Noise, much bleating of approval from the Roving Sheep and much beard stroking from the Wolverhampton contingent.
To add insult to injury Traylor imprinted his name on the match ball with mucho respect, as he did an impression of Ronaldinho and lobbed keeper Armstrong from an acute again.
To say Armstrong was not over the moon was an understatement.
A home win and total football from Merthyr Town.
Despite Joe Perry's one small step for man....and a sudden lack of atmosphere...it was to turn into a giant leap for Merthyr Kind.
Or as I said to our hard-working volunteer steward.
Unbelievable Jeff.

Boz