Spoiler alert. Match report. Wigan v Middlesboro. 3 – 1.
Wigan 3 Middlesborough 1
It was a mere coincidence that this old man had to get up at 03.00, just as a lot of us old men have to, and Wigan were preparing for kick off. With Mrs The Other Half in the UK having the audacity not to go to a game, but visit her Mum instead, I could cheer the roof off when Charlie Scored a crackin’ goal which all started with Max. I know the cynics amongst you, take no notice of the match reports, but in the last one both Charlie and Max were mentioned with a degree of accuracy.
What is clear is that when a game against Wigan looms ex-players disappear faster than Yanic ran down the wing. Sam MorsyMorsymorsy has gone to a different league and Lea Clattermole is hiding under a desk.
Today’s game, a sedate 07.45 kick off. Oh, for the days of Mushy peas chips and 2 halves of ‘Sure Shot’ and ‘Black Ebony’, but I had to put up with duck egg scrambled egg and coffee.
Kicked off under half the lights such is the price of power; it was a gorgeous evening.
The ‘Boro, desperate for points played the high pressing game but Whatmore just kept giving more and more, What more can he give. More perfectly timed tackles and intercepts. As usual the officials disagreed, the linesman gave a goal kick and remarkably he was overruled and Wigan got their first corner. The secret code of 2 straight arms raised by Max, used at every corner, gave the subtle hint to them scuffling in the box. Whatmore could he do? Only score. Only he understood the secret message.
The next 20 minutes were tedious and boring. Even the gulls were back.
Then the officials disagreed with each other. Lino gave a goal kick. The ref overruled him, realising he was wrong at the other end, and gave a corner. At least the ref was fair and consistent. Everyone argued with the ref, the ball was a shot off goal by the Boro striker. It sailed high over the south, sorry, Leam Stand. ‘Boro took a quick corner even though the ref wasn’t watching. Amos hadn’t even got his gloves on, wiped his forehead with the towel or had a swig of water. No one knows how the ball got in the net, but the ref gave a goal. They hate us.
1 – 1 at half time. Leam was having none of it, he was fuming. Aasgaard was pacing the touchline, back and forth like a caged cheetah. Whether Leam liked it or not – he was on. If you thought his Luton goal was GOS contender, wait until you see this one. 2 – 1.
Shinnie shinnied back and forth like an Eddie Stobbart truck. Charlie snitched the ball, passed it square to the on running Tom. Naylored on. 3 – 1. Sorted.
The lads dug deep and worked hard to get the positive result. We’re in the playoffs. Are we ready for the Prem?
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