Douglas Villa’s players must have wondered if they’d taken a wrong turn when they saw a sign welcoming them to Martinborough’s “Stadium of Goals.” The intimidation started early – goals? Plural? How presumptuous.
The capacity crowd of twelve had filled the terraces to bursting point, chanting “we’re top of the league” – technically accurate if you employ the sort of creative mathematics that sees Douglas Villa mysteriously vanish from the table entirely. Marty Ladies had secured second place, which, as any football historian will tell you, is precisely where Manchester City finished last season. The parallels are uncanny
What a transformation. Last season’s Martinborough Ladies were less football team, more case study in humiliation. They lost every match bar one, finished rock bottom, and conceded scores that would have embarrassed a rugby team. This season? Seven wins, 21 points, and swagger that would make Pep Guardiola weep with pride.
A Game of Two Halves
The first half saw Douglas Villa benefit from what Jim Hickey would term “atmospheric assistance” – wind – assisted goals that suggested Mother Nature had placed a cheeky bet on the visitors. Clear match-fixing.
The second half told a different story. DV managed three attacks – generous description for what resembled light jogging – producing zero shots on target. Meanwhile, Marty’s “uncharacteristically short for a goalkeeper,
but not short at all” keeper collected DV’s feeble attempts like fallen apples, prompting spontaneous crowd singing of “Marty’s Number 1.” She is usually No 9, striker.
Poetry in Motion
The afternoon’s masterpiece arrived courtesy of sublime teamwork. Lynly took the throw in, the ball landed with pinpoint accuracy at Sophie’s foot a massive 35 metres away, she pirouetted like a ballet dancer, delivering a pass with the nonchalance of someone reverse-parking. The goal itself was crafted by Liv, who nutmegged a defender with such audacity the victim looked confused, she threaded a slide-rule pass to Louise. Clinical finish, biblical celebration, pitch invasion of one cleared before intoxicated security arrived from the snack bar. The mother and daughter combo combined on the left wing just as they do at home.
‘That Tackle’
The 53rd minute changed everything. Mandy, with all the confidence of someone who mentions playing for Girl Whites most games, received another inch-perfect pass. The defender charged with blind determination – like someone chasing buses. The tackle itself was something: apart from missing the ball entirely and “suspicion of studs up,” it would have been beautiful.
Mandy crumpled. Above the crowd’s roar, some heard a crack. The referee, positioned in the next postal code, eventually meandered over. Cards? They usually only come out for cribbage.
A nerdy spectator ambled over suggesting “Apply the Ottawa Ankle Rule.” Mandy thought this meant immediate flight to Canada and ignored him. After A&E examination by actual qualified professionals, she was diagnosed as… fit to party hard. The moon boot offered no hindrance to her legendary dance floor moonwalk.
The Verdict
From last place laughing stocks to second place sensations, Martinborough Ladies proved improvement is possible and entertainment guaranteed. The fun-ometer went off the scale. The open-top bus parade is planned, though budget constraints mean it may involve someone’s ute, karaoke machine, and toilet rolls. Constellation Park took on a new meaning with the constellation of stars.
This was football as it should be: passionate, chaotic, often brilliant. Everyone went home with stories that will improve dramatically with each retelling.
Match stats: Possession 73%; fun-ometer 113%; entertainment – total.
