Back to the Foot-Ture: E7

6 min readNov 15, 2021

We’re getting to the business end of the season now, and don’t we have some serious fucking business to attend to. A Scottish Cup 5th round tie against Livingston and potentially being 5 wins from the title have meant that the atmosphere round the ground is electric. And this definitely has nothing to do with the slight failure of the mains cable replacement adjacent to the hotel — granted its made all the receptionists’ look like backing dancers in a Tina Turner video.

Our path to the league title is blocked this week by the scum of Hamilton AKA the West Brom of the West. They’ve thwarted me on each occasion we have played them this year so far and I would love to put that right with a big win. I watch as their 14 supporters enter the ground, wearing vacant expressions like characters from an Aphex Twin video and I almost feel sorry for them for a second, til I remember they support Hamilton so they fucking deserve it. I keep the mainstay of the victorious cup side from the week, and bring Stevie Lawless in for the jaded looking Scotty Fraser and Alex Osborn for Ikechi. My team talk goes full “Any Given Sunday” and the team go out pumped up to the max and I bounce in my technical area.

Its an even first half which Hamilton more than play a part in. Tony Watt misses a couple of chances which Andy Ryan matches, but then Robbo gets a chance with 5 minutes to the break and picks his spot to give us the lead. It takes us the majority of the second half to seal the game though Tony Watt, who having missed about 14 chances himself finally puts one away. I don’t care how shit it was, I love beating this lot.

I am still active in the transfer market and line-up a new centre back for the summer. I am very aware of the fact I’m a little over-reliant on loanees and as much as I would like to sign the Liam’s it’s probably wishful thinking that I could afford both of them. And then this comes in:

Just wonderful.

Our next game has us travelling back up the road to Arbroath, and we head up a day early to spend a day as a squad. Fish and chips on the pier, crazy golf, a quick training session and game of 5-a-side in the park. All of these things would have been even better had it not been 3 degrees and blowing a gale. But the players don’t mind — and if they do they know better than to moan lest they be dropped from our all conquering XI. We alter the wide-men but otherwise roll with the usual suspects.

If you are a neutral, this is great entertainment. There are 12 shots in the first half alone and we go in with a 2–1 lead thanks to goals from Melker and Tony Watt. Similar to our last trip up north, the home side are great value and Dick Campbell has them purring. They press us in the second half, forcing me to swap nearly my entire midfield due to their own incompetence — and we are maybe a touch lucky to escape with maximum points. Well at least that’s what Dick Campbell says at 2am in De Vito’s — as our respective squads have a full on “tug-o-war” on the dancefloor which ends in a £1500 bar tab after both central defences skittle hen parties as the rope snaps, seating Ricky Little and Liam Scales backwards like Michael Bay just planted 4 tons of plastic explosive underneath them

I get another phonecall in the week from our friend at Tynecastle. John asks me again about Ikechi and I indicate my disapproval. He offers me 400k so I ask for 500…and then he offers me 700k. That’s a lot of money for a 34 year old, even one that has been productive…I reluctantly accept and leave it up to Ikechi as he’s been a delight this year — and I can’t begrudge him the ludicrous Hearts contract he signs. He doesn’t take long to make a decision, and that is that he leaves in the summer. Fine.

The following Saturday I wake up with a throbbing head and a sense of anticipation. My stomach hurts when I move and my joints feel like that of an 80 year old. But its not the hangover from the 2 bottles of Banana Schnapps I drank last night watching repeats of Seinfeld, I’ve got Scottish Cup Fever! and the only cure will be a victory against Livingston. We name an unchanged side…(I’m so sorry)…

Somehow we end up in a great position straight from kick-off and Tony lays it into Robbo who shoots…GOAL…OH FUCKING NO…Offside and my near ecstasy interrupted by a wee speccy twat. It’s a tight game until the 32nd minute when Robbo gets the ball, knocks it past his man and the keeper to make it 1-OH FOR FUCKS SAKE….another one ruled out. This time because the referee didnt like the taste of his pre-match filled roll. At least I assume this as I cannot explain it otherwise.

And of course, Livingston then strike with their first effort of the game in the 38th minute when Cerny heads home a corner. And they double their advantage in injury time when another corner isn’t cleared. I lose my shit at the referee as he walks of the pitch and have to be restrained by big Ade who takes me outside for a bovril, a cigarette and a small hug. I push the wingers higher up and bring on Georgey. Its full guns o’clock!

And just 7 minutes into the second half it pays off when Tony Watt finds a yard of space and squeezes a shot past Stryjek in the Pastafarian goal to make it 2–1. Our new formation has left us wide open though and despite another close call, Kabia gets loose and scores their third to restore their two-goal lead in the 62nd minute and Lewis makes it 4 in the 66th minute.

I push arrows onto everyone and Robbo goes up top by himself with Lawless on the right. George gets a goal back with 15 minutes to go with a looping header and then Big Kev runs onto a long ball from Adam Jackson to smash home and make it 4–3 in the 84th minute. It’s all us now as they camp 10 mean behind the ball — but this doesnt stop George Byers from finding a pocket of space in midfield. He runs at the defence on the left, cutting in and unleasing a shot from 25 yards out….SAVED BY STRYJEK…and with that…our cup run is at an end…