Round 11, v Mitchell Rangers, away

It goes without saying that listening to or reading about someone recount a dream they’ve had is incredibly tedious and boring. Ones own dreams, however, are fascinating, illuminating and worth sharing. So here goes.

The night before Sunday’s game against Mitchell Rangers I had a dream about playing, as it happens, Mitchell Rangers. After a tight first half, played on an indoor stadium that looked like a converted greenhouse (how it passed an occupational healthy and safety test I don’t know but the walls and roof were made of glass), we went into the break trailing by a goal, with only two minor injuries due to falling glass. Retiring to an adjoining room generously laid out with canvas deckchairs we all took the opportunity to have a nap while we waited for the second half to start, including me. Trouble was, none of us woke up until much, much later. With great alarm we discovered the pitch area was locked, the lights were out, and Mitchell Rangers were nowhere to be seen.

“I suppose this will go down as a loss,” I lamented to gorgeous Katie A who was wearing an eye patch and had, clinging to her back, a mongoose which was singing a pitch-perfect reggae version of Edelweiss. (Okay, that bit’s not true but it could have been, because that’s the sort of rubbish people have in their dreams that make them so tedious to hear about.)

Naturally enough I made a mental note on Sunday morning to remind the Bras about staying awake (figuratively and literally) during the match, particularly in the second half. Clearly my dream was a warning about second half fade outs, not to mention the dangers of playing soccer in a greenhouse. It was a warning I was intent on heeding.

Fortunately, Mitchell Rangers do not play in a greenhouse (instead, they play on a pleasant though somewhat muddy field adjoining Broadford Secondary College, some 75km up the Hume), so I could relax on that front. But the second half fadeout thing was significant because we went into the break at 3-3 after a pulsating, nerve-tingling, exasperating first half during which we played extremely well yet gave away three of the softest goals in recent history.

In brief, the first came through a free kick we inexplicably allowed to bounce twice before it crossed the line; the second through an unfortunate own goal when a timid shot bounced up off Katie’s shoulder, rebounded off her mongoose’s head and into the net; and the third a penalty after Loz raised her arms to protect her face from the ball only to have it hit her hands. The referee, a pleasant chap who crossed all his Ts, dotted all his Is, and made sure every player had her shirt tucked in, pointed to the spot.

Fortunately, outside of these goals, we defended well. That may be like someone saying ‘Well, if you overlook my multiple facial deformities I’m actually a very good looking person’ but it’s true. Doubly fortunately, we scored three ourselves, not least a belter of a goal from Rhi that put us up 3-2 (earlier we’d trailed 1-0 and 2-1). After receiving a gem of a ball from Em, who was absolutely mercurial on Sunday, Rhi paused at the corner of the 18yd box and absolutely smashed it across goal and in off the far upright. Goal of the year to date.

At halftime I didn’t bore everyone with my dream but I did show off my new black and white scarf (one kindly knitted for me by Rosie’s mum, Mandy — thank you, Mandy, it’s a beauty), which gave me a rakish air. I also begged the Bras to scrap and fight their way to victory if necessary. On the basis of what I’d seen we deserved it and we had the class to win it if we kept our minds and hearts on the job.

Well, compared to the see-sawing first half, the second half was almost anti-climactic. But in a good way. Seven minutes into the second stanza Rhi completed her hat trick when she slotted home following a well-taken corner by Rosie. Seven minutes later Em deservedly got herself on the score sheet. After defying physics to weave around three players, the ball seemingly stuck to her boot, she unleashed a powerful shot from the edge of the box and it rifled into the roof of the net. That 5-3 lead then pushed out further when the Mitchell keeper made a mess of a Rhi free kick, gifting Rhi her 4th goal.

While Rhi and Em were cutting Mitchell to ribbons at this point everyone was contributing. Loz at centre back, and Katie, playing sweeper, snuffed out numerous Mitchell raids, and Rosie, Sue, Timmy and Jane were commanding the midfield and winning more than their share of loose ball before, and this is the good bit, doing something smart with the spoils. Further afield, Merissa, Maz, Jess, and Jenna made some delightful passes, such as the one Merissa made to put Rhi in space for her 5th, and our 7th, goal.

The lovely girls of Mitchell (“free range, grain fed, organic girls,” remarked Sue) dropped their heads a bit after that —and it’s worth considering that up until this game they’d conceded only eight goals in their 10 previous fixtures, so they were in new territory. But they got some consolation late on when, after Jen manhandled one of them in our penalty area with all the menace of a butterfly landing on your shoulder, they were awarded another penalty which gave Deb no chance.

It wasn’t ideal to give away a 4th soft goal but when you’ve got seven in the bank you can live with it and we all made the hike back to Brunswick with smiles on our faces, mud on our boots, and the knowledge that our dreams that night would be sweet indeed.

[Result: 7-3 win. Goals – Rhi, 5, Em, 1, Timmy, 1 —the ref put this down as an own goal because it involved a deflection, but I’m prepared to give it to you, Tim.]

NEXT MATCH: Sunday July 18, v Tullamarine Jets, Tullamarine Reserve, Melrose Dr, Tullamarine, 3.15pm

STOP PRESS: No doubt you’ve all heard way too much from me already but your friends may like to know —particularly your friends who may still like to purchase a copy of [cough, cough] The Mighty Bras— that I am being interviewed at Brunswick Library at 7.30pm on Thursday, August 5 as part of Moreland Council’s Talks on Moreland program. It’s free (it’d want to be) but you can let them know you’re coming on Ph.93898600. If you do come —and please do, I may even shave— you can be safe in the knowledge that if it gets boring there will be plenty of books and magazines around to read.