2 – 5 vs Gash Backs

TH (Mom, GK), DC, AW, JH, CB

I don’t know if any of you were in Stalingrad circa WW2 when the spaghetti hit the fan. That shit was fvcked up. The Germans were the sophisticated, well drilled, experienced hard men and the Russians had nothing except for about 20 times as many men and a bitch of a winter. Basically you had no chance, if the cold or the starvation or your own secret police or the enemy or dysentry or the tuberculosis didn’t get you then you died from drinking anti-freeze for the high. You were stuck between two megalomoniacal egos refusing to back down. That’s kind of how it was for us. Them with there fancy skills and the ex-australian rep ref playing for them and little iron crosses hanging around their necks, and us with the glorious will of the Soviet people.

Simplest way to understand it is to think of me in goals as the Volga river, nothing can get past, that’s not even an option, but fritz is still going to shell the shit out of me day and night. Jim was the October Tractor Works, a lot of bad shit happened there, men eat horses if they were lucky. Cocky, as always, was the poster boy magnificent sniper division getting all the food, all the press, and all the ladies. Chas was the 5 million strong Red Army troops who the Hun could not conceive of existing over the other side of the urals with their T-34s ready to die in wave after pointless wave. Wal was frostbite, eating Jerry whole and turning his flesh black. Tao was of course the generals who never showed up for the fighting but invented new medals for the dead soldiers to wear.

So despite what history tells us we lost. But we drew the second half, and if you take the two goals that the ref got out things don’t look so bad, plus I was in goals and that sucks harder than having the Romanians on your flank. Then my bicep got ruptured and it took a week for the bruise to come out. Amen