Team:

GK K/ Mercelis

DF D. Lebbink / S. Lachia / J. Mojena / D. Bernardo / S. Lambrecht

MF R. Mc Geehan / A. Hodgson / S. Lamarra

FW T. Kellermann / M. Vadora

Subs L. Legère / M. Billiet

Wednesday evening 9.08pm: The seconds have been schooled, JD’s shuttles survived, and John Mc Grath bemoans another passing drill that the boys ‘didn’t quite get’. Training is over and it will be a long two and a half days until we kick a ball again. The wait begins. Thursday comes and all is quiet on the email front. Have I made the squad? Will the weather hold? What’s availability like? Too many questions, time to clean the boots. Friday, the most important email of the day arrives, the squad is announced and I’ve made the squad. Preparations can start in earnest. Lifts are organised, Premier League predictions made, and fantasy teams changed, but more questions: Will I make the team? How will we play? Will Sammy go to the right ground? Finally, Saturday comes, bags are packed, pre-match meals consumed and it’s direction Rosières for the best day of the week is finally here.

This week it would be the turn of Coin du Balai to try to derail the Brussels British bandwagon. Fresh from exams the students were hoping to give the Brits a test of their own and dent their title ambitions. The Brits were aware of the threat posed and pre-match preparations were as meticulous as ever. As Mc Grath Jr and Sr entered the changing room the music was respectfully dimmed and our crocked captain set about further impressing us with his tactical know-how. Following last week’s appearance of a notebook, this week saw the introduction of some chalk to proceedings and everyone’s worst nightmares were confirmed when a tactical diagram followed. We were going to bamboozle them by playing in triangles and keeping the Corinthian spirit of the Winter Olympics alive. Mc Grath Sr, clearly less of a geometry fan, said he didn’t really have much to add: 5 minutes later and he had finally succeeded in translating Nils’ tactical masterclass – Hodgy would play in centre mid and Sam would line up as right wing-back.

As the game kicked off it hadn’t escaped anyone’s attention that the pitch was suffering from recent downpours and was more akin to a cabbage patch - albeit one long abandoned by any self-respecting cabbages. Despite the conditions both teams were determined to pass the ball out from the back and British soon took command of the early exchanges by dominating possession. The defence was rock solid as usual, superbly marshalled by Mojena playing like a man desperate to get a mention in the match report. With Sylvain sweeping up and distributing smoothly and Dex enforcing his usual stop and search policy on any attackers who had the temerity to take him on, the wing-backs were free to maraud forward which they did at every opportunity. RBBFC were now looking for the goal that would confirm their superiority and, as the half wore on, their perseverance was finally awarded. As another opposition attack broke down, defence was swiftly turned into attack from the back and the ball fed into Mc Geehan in midfield. Mc Geehan spotted Vadora making a dart outside the full-back and slipped the ball through. Vadora looked up and saw Dex at the far-post and sent over the perfect cross. Dex braced himself for the bicycle kick – it was going to be fantastic, a goal made in Italy. Mc Geehan, sensing the foolishness of the Italian plan, popped up to score with a plain old header to the delight of (almost) everyone. 1-0 to the good guys and so it remained at the break.

Half-time and a rumour was doing the rounds that Coach Mc Grath had actually applauded our first-half performance. Either that or he was just keeping his hands warm. Whatever, the game wasn’t won and we needed to keep our foot on the pedal in the second half. Complacency was the watchword and half the team nodded knowingly while the other half nodded wondering when someone was finally going to explain what this word ‘complacency’ meant. Message understood, kind of. Second half up the hill, opposition pressing, game on. British knew a second goal was needed and went on the attack with Vadora prodding and Kellermann sniping up front. After a quiet first half Tommy finally got a shot away and the keeper could only parry it to where Lamarra and Vadora were both ready to snaffle the rebound. Mickey got there first and put it away – 2-0 to the Brits. RBBFC were really purring (it’s the noise a cat makes apparently) now and bewildering the opposition with the quadrilateralness of their passing.

Sustained pressure was applied to the opposition goal as the Ones went in search of the killer third goal. They didn't have long to wait as Kellermann chased down a long ball and closed in on the out-rushing keeper. The keeper could only confirm Billiet’s pre-match prophecy about his pudding-like qualities by making a meal of the clearance. The ball fell to Mc Geehan 40 yards out and he coolly returned it goalwards with interest – 3-0 to the league leaders. With 20 mins to go and the game in the bag, a rout was on the cards but it was Coin who struck next. A ball was floated over the defence and a cross sent in from the right. As he had been all afternoon, Hodgson was diligent in his defensive duties and was perfectly positioned to intercept when the ball skidded across the mud and hit a motionless arm – penalty. Hodge was devastated, his Linekeresque goodliness unravelled by a yellow card. Kris on the other hand was delighted at the thought of some action but was unable to keep out the pen – 3-1 to RBBFC.

With 15 to go it was time for some experience from the bench to steady the ship. Lolo and Marten came on for the distraught Hodgson and impressive Sylvain with a switch to 4-4-2 for old times’ sake. The replacements were soon into the action as the Brits attacked afresh. Lamarra had a shot deflected wide, Lolo squared when a shot was the better option and Marten cleared one off the line from a Kellermann shot. At least the referee showed some consistency by blowing up for a handball on the left. Billiet called far post, McGeehan delivered the cross, Billiet didn’t move but the defender could only knock it down and Marten slotted it home with the help of a ‘slight’ deflection. There was just enough time for a few more efforts on goal and for Kris to try and impress everyone by saving some shots that were clearly going wide before the final whistle came. 4-1 the final score and another three points in the bag. Time for a much-needed shower and well-deserved beer. Then the wait begins all over again.

Post script: com•pla•cen•cy (k?m-pla's?n-se) n.

1. A feeling of contentment or self-satisfaction, especially when coupled with an unawareness of danger, trouble, or controversy.

2. An instance of contented self-satisfaction.

MOM & Reporter: Richard McGeehan (former worried Welsh Rugby Union supporter)