The Rosse Saltaire 3 vs 0 Revolutions FC

3-0.

3-bloody-0.

When even the ref makes a point at the end of the game of saying how well you played and you’ve lost three-chuffing-nil you know it was tough to take. And it was.

Down to six due to Dave P and James’ romantic weekend, Gaz’s absence and Phil not really caring about the Revs, we lined up still with a decent side - Olly in goal, me up top, and Lewis, Matty, Jamie and Ty in between. We had a game plan and at kick off were all quietly confident we might nick something.

The first 10 minutes were dreamy. The passing was crisp, we found space and snuffed them out at the back. We were playing so well we deserved a goal and my header against the post should have been the signal one was coming.

It was, for them, via a horrid deflection off Lewis’s foot. Their first shot on target, probably only their second attack, and a right kick in the Jaffa Cakes.

Still we kept on and we were on top, playing really well so another was coming. It was, for them, via a horrid deflection from me blocking a shot. They couldn’t believe their luck. 2-0 down at halftime was a huge injustice. Ridiculous in fact.

We started the second half exactly the same way and genuinely played at times at the top of our game. Unbelievably we went three behind, another deflection but this time Jamie blocking the shot and hitting it onto my toe and in. Rarely have we ever played well and lost 3-0, but here we were.

I hit the post again, Matty had an excellent chance but it wouldn’t go in. The whistle went and it was over, and to a man we were absolutely gutted.

Play that way again and we win, simple, we really were that good. Put it out your mind and go again, it’s the only way.