Line-up: Mercelis - Lachia, Thom, Minne, Bernardo - Donner, Springbob, Hodgson, Gimeno, McGeehan - Kellerman

Subs: Lopo, Lebbink, De Roeck

A dark and wet day greeted the RBBFC warriors as they arrived in the land of 'bacalao', 'sagres' and Sergio. The white knights waited patiently as the changing rooms were cleaned and a crate was gradually filled up with empty bottles from the previous team’s victory. RBBFC knew that celebration could be theirs, that feeling of victory, of leaving it all on the pitch and knowing that each individual battle led to a collective win.

That feeling would have to wait as Richie’s team talk focused on past victories or something like that as he continued his smooth transition into an old boy. However, the gaffer did outline what we’d have to do to win, how we’d have to support each other, and how we’d still smash the Portuguese despite having less possession than we’re used to. Just as the team talk was reaching its climax and Jean Minne was gyrating with excitement, in entered our Italian stallion, Decio Bernardo, only 30 minutes late- a personal best. Dex said something about babies or cradles, and then proceeded to strip naked while VC Hodgson explained the need to treat the ball with the respect.

With the team talk finished RBBFC’s white shirts glimmered against the dark sky, and with storm clouds brewing a full-on fuck off argument between two locals greeted the players as they walked over to the pitch. Once the native English speakers had heard enough and increased their French vocabulary by approximately 13%, the warm-up had begun.

Match time.

Kick off and RBBFC start relatively well but with intense Portuguese pressure off the ball. A few fouls to let the opponents know what they’re dealing with followed. Unfortunately, the luck looked to be on the side of Portugal as a shot from the edge of the box deflected off Lachia, and looped up over our beautiful goalkeeper whose hair blew elegantly in the wind as he fell to the ground and watched the ball drop over the line. 1-0 Portugal as the skies opened and rain fell as the footballing gods showed their displeasure with this unjust scoreline.

The next spell of play was tough for the Brits. Portuguese domination, quality football, and tricky weather conditions led to a challenging environment to pass the ball around and gain a foothold in the match.

Nonetheless, they all knew: We’ve been here before. We’ve come from behind before. We’ve beaten this lot before.

Finally, a rare free-kick in the Portuguese half and the big boys from the back went up. A deflected cross ended at the feet of our ginger superstar, Super Thomas Kellerman who sent over a high cross to the back post. The cross was too long, too high, and was greeted with disappointment by Kellerman and a ‘rubbish’ shout from the negative Nigels on the sidelines. However… Thom was lurking at the back post and displayed a flexibility and level of skill few had witnessed since van Basten’s famous volley. He rose like a salmon above the heads of the Portuguese midgets and caught the ball full on the volley with a sweet right-foot strike high into the net. 1-1 game on and the caralho’s were shell-shocked.

Half-time arrived and the boys in white knew they were in the ascendancy.

The second half saw the weather calm but tensions and worry in our opponents became more visible. Gone was Sergio doing kicks up with himself as the whites pressed and harried and started to force errors. One of these errors led to a McGeehan classic free-kick low into the near post, surprising everyone including his own left foot. The keeper fumbled and Gimeno Blanco was there to pounce with a left foot shot into the empty net. 2-1 and RBBFC in the lead.

From then on the whites were an immovable force, a solid unit, working together, winning every challenge, every header, and dominating the Portuguese. With this solidity even ever more desperate attacks from our opponents came to nothing, and space opened up at the counter. The boys couldn’t convert any of the chances, despite our man on the inside, Loco Lopo, hitting the post and translating the caralho’s nonsense. His verdict: they’re the worst of Portugal.

They may not be the cream of the crop, but we all know how good a side they are, how they’re still top of the league, but how they’re now looking over their shoulders knowing that that we’re on their heels and that every match from here until the end of the season will see us deliver similar spirited and defiant performances.

Momentum gained but it has to be sustained here on out.

Reporter & MOM: Ben Thom

Honourable mention: Mamma Kellerman