Week 06 : Cup Final : Match Report

THE BOBS WIN CUP FINAL IN STYLE

Dancing outside Cunninghams reported.

TEAM TRIFFY BOTTLE IT ON PENALTIES

AFTER PRE-MATCH BINGE ON MANKY PORK PRODUCE

Local heroes 'The Bobs' returned home to fucking unbelievable scenes this week after lifting the inaugural Fr. Delaney memorial champions challenge league cup, we can exclusively reveal. Jubillant local crowds crammed onto the Main Street from O'Neills nearly all the way down to Cunninghams.

"At one stage there was a run on battered sausages", said Padraig Cunningham. Then one of the Dooleys came in and told him to fuck-off 'cos they owned the place now. Anyway - there was definitely a run on sausages.

News of the heroic victory of Tramore's very own Bobbydazzlers spread after it was mentioned at 11 mass last sunday - just after the communion. " You won't fucking believe this" said the priest ,"- but the Bobs have only gone and beat those townie wankers - The Triffs" he added.

The final game of the 6 week competition commenced with a visibly over-weight Team Triff lumbering onto to the pitch, confirming recent rumours of pre-match binges on mingin' pork.

The Triffs took an early 2 goal lead, due in the main to poxy ricochets and goalkeeper assault, but impressive defending from this years surprise defensive pairing of Jama & Danson, soon steadied the ship. Despite the fact that the entire squad of Team Triff packed their own goal for long periods of the first half - Capt. Bobby lead by example and with the bravery of somebody very brave indeed - pulled back the 2 goal deficit by half time, underscoring his iconic & talismanic credentials.

Outrageous diving by Capt. Triff on numerous occasions led eventually to his own team asking him to 'pack it in'.

Thankfully for all - he did. Eventually. Fuck sake.

The second half started with the Bobs on the offensive and clearly enjoying the ocassion. Not the other guys - they were all angry and shit, a direct result of the mouldy bacon they were firing down their cake-holes. Again though - mainly by just barging through people - they managed to pull ahead by a goal. The Bobs drew level again. 3 all. Then - a lucky deflection sees the ball rebound in a crowded 2 yard box, and trickle over the line. 4-3 to the Triffs - with 5 minutes to play.

"No fuckin' way" says Garvisco (AKA 'Pat The Postman' - The newly self appointed referee) as he blows up for full time. "We win this game. We're finishing early - while we're in the lead, and I have decided we will have penalties to decide the cup."

And so 6 weeks of blood, sweat, tears, urine & buckets of spittle came down to a penalty shoot out. One man and a ball against another man in front of a net. Awesome.

5 minutes later it was all over. Suffice to say The Bobs - with steel in their belly, determination in their eyes, belief in their lower intestines, and God on their side,smote the smitten & lifted the cup!

As for the Triffs, they were fucking apalling. Never practiced their penalties. Simple as that.

Now with their season in tatters, a squad of players addicted to rancid bangers, and whose ability will never match their ambition, the future for this band of 'Guns for hire' looks as promising as a knackers crusty jocks.

A glorious end to a fabulous inaugural cup, with The Bobs not only winning the Cup, but also the hearts & minds of the people of Tramore. What thoroughly decent fellows they really are.