The eagerly anticipated match got underway. The two teams, resplendent in their newly acquired strips (grudgingly supplied by their respective factory owners after they realised that the match was to be featured by the local press) got to grips straight away. The colours of the strips were, incidentally, decided on after some forceful input by the owner's wives. Both of them fancied themselves as the last arbiters of good taste hereabouts.
Neither side was dominant in the early stages. Both sets of lads were eager to show off their finely honed break-time skills and some quite promising moves were only just stopped by some ruthless, fearsome, crunching but fair (ish) tackles.
Ink & pencil crayon on paper
Both sets of supporters loudly cheered on their teams and exhorted them to greater and greater efforts - too much of many a wage packet rested on the final outcome. Most of the action took place in the centre of the pitch and neither goalie was unduly troubled. In fact the Bartholomew's keeper, 'Stumpy' Williams (so-called because of an unfortunate accident with a spindle-whittling machine) took the opportunity to exchange pleasantries with some young ladies behind his goal. All was frenetic in the midfield until Jenkins (junior apprentice spittle mopper-upper, ) broke clear and homed in on the Bartholomew's goal. 'Stumpy' hurriedly, but politely (having a notion of continuing the liaisons later in The Feathers), excused himself from the conversations and faced the onrushing lad.....
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