Line-up (4-4-2)
Sloane, Johnston (Moore 82), Waite, Newman, Jacobs, O’Toole (Butt 73), Pratt, Littlechild, Cavanagh (Fribence 64), Walsh, Kuczynski.

What is six out of seven?

It’s about 86%. An ‘A’ in a higher level exam paper. A landslide in an election. You’ve probably forgotten the names of six out of the S Club seven. 6 out of 7 people found this review of the Formotion N-Wave Sport Wrist Watch useful. What activity is enjoyed by 6 out of 7 people? Gang rape.

But all these statistics are mere frivolity. The 6 out of 7 that everyone is talking about is CPR’s current league form – six wins from seven games – a league busting run that has drawn hyperbolic praise from all corners of the league “Clissford are a decent team with some good individual players.” C. Bahman, Adrian FC. Gushing praise indeed.

How Bishop’s Park will wish they listened to Mr Bahman’s words. They turned up cocksure and fancy free, expecting to stroll to another 6-2 thrashing. This transpired to be the biggest misjudgement since the future Mrs Lauren Moore said to her friends “It’s just a phase. Don’t worry, when he looks in the mirror, he’ll realise how ridiculous they look and have them cut out straightaway.”

The game was won courtesy of a goal shrouded in controversy regarding the scorer, and, ultimately, it is irrelevant how this match reporter saw the goal. Club secretary, Stuart Kuczynski – a man of unquestionable honour – has already submitted the goal to the league as his own. Nonetheless, my personal views will be discussed in due course. But for now, onto the game.

As so often this season, Rich P’s warm up inspired all for the battle ahead, and all members of the team, young and old, limber and stiff managed to get their legs over the gate and ready for action. But the real good news was that Steve only had four pre-match injuries to contend with.

the real good news was that Steve only had four pre-match injuries to contend with

Although the first 10 minutes were relatively even, the remaining 35 of the half belonged to CPR. Every player was pressing and passing like a training session, with Paddy particularly energetic on the left, rushing about the pitch with no particular care for anyone’s safety, least of all his own. The pressure began to tell and soon CPR were firing off more shots than a Korean on a college campus. Stu was beating the left-back time and time again, while Walshy was dominating the aerial battle, and linking with the midfield men superbly. On 20 minutes the big man controlled the ball on the edge of the area and beat his man to cut inside, and, wisely realising his left foot is of little more use than for standing on, allowed the oncoming Littlechild to unleash the fury of one of his famous 25 yarders. Sadly, the bobbly pitch contrived to reduce the midfield man’s effort to a plucky grasscutter which the BP keeper duly ensnared. Still, it was sign of things to come.

The game progressed nicely for CPR on both attacking and defending fronts. The forwards and midfield combining once more as Rich L took advantage of defensive confusion and got his head to a bouncing cross, which meandered agonisingly wide of the post. At the back Waitey and Steve had the strikers under control, whilst Sloaney dealt with a few tricky crosses with a series of fine, robust punches. The CPR glovewearer is becoming more and more prone to the accomplished use of his fists. Good news for CPR, more ominous perhaps for his girlfriend.

At this juncture I would like to have written about a fine CPR counter-attack, involving a great pass to unleash the pace of Kuczynski, who whipped in an inch-perfect cross for Walshy in the box. But sadly it didn’t get that far. It got as far as Stuart, who with the ball no further than 2 yards from him, and under no serious pressure, allowed the ball to harmlessly dribble into touch. What happened only he can say, but the theories are flying around like wildfire… Was this an elaborate scheme to avoid Walshy scoring again? Was he Scotty in disguise? Most likely is that he was utterly dumbfounded to see his favourite pinup ever, Gail Porter, standing on the sidelines next to his lovely girlfriend, and was so overcome by excitement he forgot about the game.

His subsequent disappointment at the realisation that it was in fact Martin Maule with his missus probably explains his subdued demeanour at half-time.

Half-time: Bishop’s Park 0 – 0 CPR

The first goal came shortly after half-time courtesy of a high-kicking hook from scrabble-spaz Stu. A high ball loose around the edge of the area was duly won by Walshy, who obeying orders, knocked it gently into Littlechild’s path who rather scuffed it in to the box-lurking Stuart. The wee man wasted no time in hoiking the ball over his shoulder and into the top corner. No less than the men in red deserved. 1-0.

CPR continued to dominate, forcing a succession of corners, for which the ‘big two’ (Steve & Waite) would venture into the danger area for. And one corner, following an O’Toole ripsnorter well saved by the keeper, almost brought CPR’s second. Steve, buoyant with excitement over the impending Superbowl, almost grabbed his first of the season. As John Madden NFL commentator would describe it:
“Bottom of the 59th and Kuczynski fires in an end zone offensive play. Newman completes 10 rush-yards, climbs the hill and fires the head strike for the 1 point gain. But no cherry pie for the big man – the soccerball flies north of the scorebag.”

It really should be said that, for all the attacking prowess shown by CPR, the defence was in superlative form. Rich P protected the back four like a guard dog, whilst the aforementioned quartet of Peppers, Waite, Steve and Jacobs were seldom tested by the BP front line. Jacobs, despite the stubble rash from the previous night’s conquest still evident on his cheeks, mopped up the danger particularly well, suggesting that with the good grace of god, his own goal days are firmly behind him.

And so to CPR’s second. In brief, Stu hit an in-swinging corner, and with the wind firmly behind it, the ball ended up in the net via a melee of players and a flapping ‘keeper. So in order to conclude who did score, let us rule out whom, of the attacking contingent, did not:

*	Jacobs – wrong end
*	Pratt – Sheriff Waite does not allow him past the halfway line for corners
*	Terry – distinct Sideshow Bob hair would surely have been noticed
*	Rich L – wasn’t a goal of the season contender
*	Waitey – scores far too many for a centre-back as it is.

So it would seem to be between Walshy and Stu. The two rascals vying for top goalscorer. But it was neither. I clearly saw it as a Mad Dog own goal… Or maybe that was just what I wanted to see. Either way, what could not be denied was the scoreline. 2-0 CPR.

Rich L even had time to check Garry wasn’t over cucumbering his post-match Pimms…

The five minutes following the second were almost too good, and CPR were perhaps guilty of complacency. The ball was being passed around to shouts of ‘ole!’ from the crowd. BP were chasing shadows; they had nothing. CPR had so much time to pick their passes, that when Rich L received the ball in the centre circle he had time to check Garry wasn’t over cucumbering his post-match Pimms before moving the ball on to the next red shirt. It was delightful stuff ruined by a breakaway goal from Bishops Park. A long ball sent forward and their man toe-poking it in from the edge of the area. Ginge was at all times marked and presented no danger.

BP pressed for an equaliser, but in truth never looked like scoring. And CPR would have run out winners far more comfortably had Ref No.3’s watch timed ‘one minute’ in line with conventional measurement practices. (Obviously he was the 1 out of 7 members who didn’t find the above review of use.) But as it was, despite the game drawing on for that little bit longer, CPR still held firm to claim the spoils at the final whistle.

Bishops Park have been riding high in the league all season, but they were outplayed and outmuscled by a confident CPR team, with no respect for league position and even less for ludicrously nick-named buffoons with questionable haircuts. There was no doubt CPR were worthy winners: they dominated, harried and hassled BP from the first to the very last, extended minute, and only a mad man would disagree. Or in this case, a Mad Dog. And he didn’t argue. He didn’t say a word. He just panted back to the dressing room, tail between his legs… and licked his wounds… and probably his testicles as well. Pervert.

Final score: Bishops Park 1, CPR 2

Match Reporter: Rich Littlechild