I don’t miss much stuck here in this old cemetery, but I wouldn’t have minded a run out to Clitheroe last Saturday. By all accounts Byrnes the wine merchants, suppliers to HM the Queen no less, was as interesting as ever with a few canny bottles picked up for Christmas, or to keep the wife happy as a newt; the local beer was very palatable, the locals were, comparatively, welcoming and the game itself, well OK I guess.
OK? OK? I don’t think so. The sort of game which nobody will forgot playing in or watching. My admirably even-handed reporters tell me that it was a game of three if not four halves. RCA started a bit shorthanded, played OK in the first half, but lost two key players to injury and ended up on the wrong end of four goals, came back ferociously in the second half, but forgot to defend as well, took it to extra time and scored twice when past the 92nd minute to get a draw. Oh, and the opposition managed to get themselves reduced to 9nine men with six minutes to go, scored again anyway, (how many teams over the years have conceded when playing 11 against 9? Some team, RCA), and ended up with RCA thinking they should have won it? Manic.