Sunday morning, donning my newly acquired Shower Crew hoodie, I jumped in the car and did the milk run, collecting the shower crew subsect known as “the beard bros”. With stalwarts Daniel Bain, Cowan Waddingham and newly inducted Martin “I no longer have a child molester’s beard” Armit, we headed to Skye to watch the Maidens compete in the FFV Division 4 finals against Berwick. I can honestly say, the most interesting thing about Skye is the drive to Skye, and the most interesting thing about the drive to Skye is that in 31km’s it’s not interesting in the slightest.

If you’re looking for the most boring place on earth; it’s Skye. The pitches looked like a beach… if the beach was made by the strength of Smithy’s imagination. So there was sand, and not a lot else. We arrived at the game to be informed that the Maidens were 1-0 down to a team that looked and sounded overall…manly…

The game was, well, it was a game. Which is about as much as I can say about the quality of it. Berwick, having got the early goal they so desired, parked the bus. I don’t know if anyone has ever tried to pass a football through a bus. I have. It’s a fruitless endeavour, and it generally gets you arrested. In fairness it’s not my fault that there were kids on the bus, or that it was driving on a highway. How are you supposed to play road football with that sort of bullshit obstruction? Anyway, there was a lot of hustle but not a lot of end product from either team. The half time whistle blew and we ventured off to find out what the Skye canteen had to offer. Not much is the answer.

The second half was a bit better in terms of Catherine Taylor pole axing players, but not as good in terms of the Maidens scoring goals and winning the game. It was simply one of those days where try as you might, you just can’t seem to get the rub of the green… Or the sand as it was in this case. Either way, the match ended 1-0 to the Berwick Bus, disappointing but overall a damn successful debut FFV season for the Maidens.

So with the game done and dusted and absolutely nothing of interest to see or do in Skye, we loaded into the beardmobile to go see king of the beard bros Dale “Flakey” Malone and the rest of the first team take on Seaford needing only a point to clinch back to back championships.

Before we get to that though, some quick house keeping. As this was a catch up round there were a couple of scheduled matches. The reserves were set to play Bayswater as their initial match was called off inexplicably at half time with the reserves leading 5-0. Showing the passion and desire to play of an overripe avocado, and probably still walking a little uncomfortably after the spanking they endured in their last 45 minutes against the Shower Crew, Bayswater contacted the league and begged them to just award the reserves the 5-0 win, which was a better result for everyone except Jiyah, who reluctantly put away his studded paddle. The veterans were due to play Seaford, however that match was called off as Seaford would be unable to field a team, due to Father’s Day. I can’t say I blame them, as Father’s Day in Seaford would be as confusing as trying to find a clean syringe in a Frankston public toilet.

Finally the thirds took on Langwarrin, and reluctantly I bring you an interview with …sigh … Smithy…

Smithy: Frank!

Frank: …Yes Smithy

S: Do you need a run down of the third’s game for your match report?

F: Look to be honest man, I’m probably just going to write the score and the scorers. I’m feeling a bit burnt out

S: Well Frank! Since last time you threw me in the mud for my excellent reporting skills, I’m going to keep it short.

F: Look man it’s really not necessary…

S: Docking proceeded to catch the ball and then throw it into the back of our own net. 0-1 to Langwarrin.

F: Ok I guess we’re doing this…

S: Sexy man Smitdawgy Dawg scored for Boronia after their defender miss kicked it in the 10 yard box straight to his feet; 1-1.

F: Smitdawgy…Are you fucking serious man? I try to suspend disbelief in these things, not fucking shatter it. Sigh What happened next?

S: … Don’t remember the second goal but I’m sure it was horse shit. 1-2 Langwarrin.

F: It’s definitely your attention to detail that I appreciate the most.

S: Michael Jansen ran the ball from our box to theirs and scored, 2-2.

F: Nailed it mate, it’s like watching a video highlight.

S: Half time, we proceeded to listen to their team talk as Alex’s team talk was “good job.”

F: Jesus Christ, it’s a good thing you’re painting your team mates in a good light or they may have cause to be upset with you..

S: … Yep, can’t remember the third goal either but again I’m sure it was horse shit. 2-3 Langwarrin.

F: Did you actually play in this match? Or did you sit on the sidelines making daisy chains?

S: … … … 2-4 Langwarrin.

F: May I have one of those daisy chains? You know what, no, I don’t want one, it’s probably covered in your spit. What happened next?

S: Full time, Alex forgot to open the bar and the Langwarrin guys got pissy.

F: That’s it? You’re not giving me a lot to go on

S: Leechy decided he didn’t want to be a centre half anymore and spent the 2nd half going on an adventure. He almost scored from 25 yards out.

F: Isn’t Leechy supposed to be your best friend? Anybody else you wanna piss on?

S: Alex was more concerned in filling the 2 empty spots for their end of season dinner at the Hoffbrauhaus

F: I was being sarcastic you idiot

S: The referee was a twat who rocked up late but got out of his car all dressed and wearing his boots. He definitely slept in them he was that excited.

F: I think we’re done here

Trust me, that was more painful to live through than it was to read. Anyway, the beardmobile arrived at Seaford and we set out to find nourishment. Feeling fancy we dined on bruschetta, garlic baguettes and these fancy wedges that had bacon and chicken. Flakey would have been proud.

So with full beards and full stomachs we set off to the appropriately named Seaford Reserve. Upon arrival we grabbed a beverage and we settled in to see the show. Back from his European adventure Liam “Cupcakes” Edwards reclaimed his spot in goal, sporting a new hair cut and looking a little bit rounder in the middle.

It was the sort of day where the weather made you want to kill yourself, and not painlessly with sleeping pills, but brutally caving your own skull in with an overused bocci ball. However that would have to wait as the referee blew the whistle to signal the start of the match.

Like the miserable pack of piss midgets that they are, Seaford decided to ruin everyone’s day by taking a 1-0 lead. Fair enough, no need to panic, let the peasants have their goal, we have Brian Roper. However we could have four Brian Ropers and it wouldn’t have helped when the linesmans flag was going up faster than Gary Glitter at a One Direction concert. Ten minutes before the end of the half and that bocci ball was looking even more appealing as Seaford bagged their second. This is why I don’t make plans, it’s just another way to get fucked over. The half ended with Boronia trudging to the change rooms on the wrong side of a 2-0 score line and Seaford prancing back to theirs presumably high on life…or meth…it was probably meth, and I bet that dodgy number 8 with the rapist beard was supplying them.

I didn’t hear Darren’s halftime team talk, but I can only assume it was a rousing, heart wrenching call for the boys to look inside themselves, dig deep, summon that inner strength, and pass to Roper, so back to basics I guess. Which is exactly what they did, and were rewarded as the man himself slotted the ball into the net with either his head or his foot 4moregoals. Man I have the attention span of a duck, I wasn’t even drunk.

With the methamphetamine induced high seemingly wearing off, and Seaford coming down like Whitney Houston in a bathtub, (…too soon?) Boronia got their tails up, and trading card favourite Jack Hudson levelled the scores after weaving through a packed Seaford defence and firing home. 2-2 and Seaford started to choke, and in a massive way. Sensing the deflated nature of his opponents, Roper pounced, scoring another goal with part of his body 3moregoals. As the match ticked on, Eoghan became involved in a minor altercation with Captain Shitbeard, presumably taking offence to being offered something to “boost that championship winning high”. Defending the rights and safety of children everywhere, Eoghan bravely kicked him in the shins.

Matt Soawyer came only to give the probably injured again Graham Dunne a well deserved rest, and with minutes left on the clock, angled home a right foot shot to make it 4-2 to Boronia. As the seconds ticked by and the referee brought the whistle to his lips, Eoghan decided that maybe, just maybe he had been too harsh on Shitbeard and ran over to give him a bit of a hug and possibly see if his magic icing sugar really could make a good feeling last longer. The referee however mistook his repentance as an act of aggression and with the last act of the game, gave him a yellow card. It didn’t matter though as Boronia won back to back league championships. As they celebrated on the pitch, laughing and singing and being merry, Seaford dried their tears in mounds of heroin. Which I’m assuming they melted using spoons stolen from their canteen, which explains why the tea I had at halftime was so fucking good and does anyone fancy some tea? I could really really go a cup of tea… I mean allegedly that all happened, I couldn’t say for sure…now… about that tea?

Food of the day: Bruschetta. Oh my lord, why didn’t I decide to be fancy sooner, this was amazing

Beer of the ….TEA, I… I just want some ok, I can stop anytime I want I swear

If you have a positive or negative response or just generally feel like disagreeing, I can be contacted at bscmatchreports@gmail.com.