With Clarke blathering about his prospects of winning Manager Of The Month awards, Sidaway discussing in-depth the thrice-weekly circuit training sessions which have brought him to a peak of physical fitness, and the 'don't-change-a-winning-team' philosophy invoking the possibility of an incredible, top-quality bench pairing of Spence and Masting, the Logica players who gathered for this second game of the new year could be forgiven for thinking that they were actually still tucked up in bed having a very surreal dream.

In fact, Toman was indeed tucked up thus, and his failure to appear before the kick-off time meant that at least Spence got a reprieve and started the game. Clarke's wisdom and knowledge are beyond the comprehension of most of us mere mortals, and so it was that the misunderstood Supremo decided to play ex-striker Sidaway as the left wing-back, and further enhance the dream- like quality of the day.

The dream began well, as Logica started positively against third-placed Raiders. Sidaway (rapidly becoming a utility man of Paul Warhurst proportions, having played as striker, sweeper, midfield anchor and now left wing-back this season) passed to Abbott who sent Spence speeding down the left. The returning Aberdonian did well, with no support, to beat one defender and win a corner off a second. Indeed Logica's early pressure resulted in a number of corners, but sadly they all came to nothing. Raiders made a few breaks in response, but strong tackling by the Logica backs denied Raiders a final pass or shot at goal. Millar, Hatton and Sidaway were early exponents of this defensive mastery in the first quarter.

At this point, though, the game began to take on a rather nightmarish quality. The first sign of this came as Logica started to split the rather square Raiders defence with greater regularity, as well-timed passes released midfield runners into dangerous positions. It was not an advancing goalkeeper or a backtracking libero which extinguished these threats, but instead a rather Adamsesque figure running the line, who maintained a bright yellow flag erect above his head at all times. The paranoid flavour of the nightmare was added to by the referee, who seemed quite happy to acknowledge each manic flutter with a peep on his whistle. Whilst there were times when the white shirt of Logica was clearly offside, there were others when it was very close, and some too which were quite blatantly on-side. As with most nightmares, the unravelling horror story actually seemed to be heading for a happier ending, before taking a dramatic lurch back into the unexpectedly gruesome. Half an hour had elapsed when Lambert burst from the half- way line in pursuit of a well-considered ball over the top. Up went the linoe's flag as ever, but this time not even the referee could sanction this incessant flapping of Skippy proportions, and Lambert was waved on. The keeper advanced out of his area, got to the bouncing ball first, but could only head it skywards. Lambert was all set to take the descending ball past the stranded number one, when the keeper dived and used his hands to halt the Logica man's progress. The referee immediately gave a free-kick but ominously failed even to caution the offender, let alone send him off as the rules demanded. The forces of darkness further conspired when Woolhouse's accurate top-corner-bound free-kick was deflected by a head in the wall just over the bar.

After Raiders had wasted a chance opportuned them by three day- dreaming Logica defenders, Abbott experienced his recurring nightmare once more. Showing bright anticipation to rob the Raiders centre-half of a square pass and simultaneously catch the Raiders goalkeeper out of position, he thus availed himself of a large portion of unguarded goal in which to deposit the snaffled ball. Remembering his miss against Morganite the week before, Abbott rolled an excruciatingly deliberate shot towards the huge, gaping goal. But the nightmare always ends the same way, and after what seemed an eternity, the ball opted for the wrong side of the post.

Lambert's particular recurring nightmare on this day was the common one of falling, falling, falling .... With minutes to go before the break, more pressure on the Raiders back-four (who seemed determined to pass the ball across the back until Logica intervened) saw the ball fall to the similarly stylish and well-groomed Jobling, who's fundamentally conventional pass forward released Lambert. Lambert raced into the penalty area and his quick reactions took the ball but not himself past the last defender, as he was upended by a grim and clumsy challenge. Not only did the referee fail to see this as the blatant penalty it surely was, but Lambert was also badly injured and had to hobble off. Surely we'd all wake up soon?

Fortunately, Lambert was back after the break when things carried on in much the same way. Logica created the more incisive openings, largely due to pressure applied to the Raiders back-four and midfield when in possession. Sharp passing interchanges, especially between Abbott and Spence, also contributed. Lambert broke, but shot when maybe a pass would have been the better option. Abbott cut inside a defender and slipped a pass through to Spence, but his left foot shot on the turn was maybe a tad ambitious, and it went wide. The linesman's flag was still active, but the referee was becoming a little more selective about his acceptance of these indications. As the half progressed, the linesman became more and more desperate to foil every Logica attack, and as time wore on he even began raising his flag before the "offending" pass had been made, or even whilst play was still in Logica's half! However, credibility had been lost aeons ago.

When all seemed to be drifting along quite nicely, the spectre in black dramatically reappeared to drag this potentially pleasant little daydream back into the realms of horrific fantasy with a series of nightmarish decisions that Sigmund Freud would have been hard-pushed to analyse. Gradually building pressure by Raiders had so far not breached the fine Logica defence, but a string of calamitous mis-hits culminated with the ball firmly in the back of the Logica net. Clarke could only just get his head to a long hoof, and the ball ballooned upwards and backwards. Sidaway more than matched this with a wild swing with the right boot, causing the ball to loop back and to his right. Even better, Hatton executed a perfect McCabe over his head, and it was only as the ball bounced evilly in front of Wildsmith, that it touched terra firma again. The skulduggerous tyke between the sticks somehow recalled this as a training ground perfected pass-back that the referee would penalise with certainty. Keeping his hands well out of the way, Wildsmith could only chest the ball upwards, but the ensuing heading duel against a Raider with a large advantage in the momentum stakes was no contest. One-nil, or so we all believed, until an unexpected peep by the man in black added bad judgement to his previous big-girls-blousiness and cancelled the goal out for a supposed foul on Wildsmith.

Within a trice though, this arbitrary arbiter had proved himself to be simply incompetent rather than in any way bias. Abbott and Spence were finding increasing space up front by moving wide. Now Abbott peeled away to the right and Woolhouse, obviously on the same wavelength, simultaneously played him in with a superb ball. Abbott ran on but was somewhat startled to be met by the Raiders goalkeeper ten yards outside the penalty area. Abbott easily side-stepped one of the madder members of the goalkeeping union, advanced into the box and this time made no mistake side-footing into an empty goal. Somehow it was not a complete surprise to find the hatstand official blowing his whistle for a free-kick rather than a goal. Again twenty-two players looked on incredulously. Apparently Spence had been offside. Whilst Brian Clough may ask what he was doing on the pitch if he was not interfering with play, the new FIFA rules explain quite clearly that Spence was not offside being on the other side of the penalty area as Abbott scored. In fact, since Abbott did not pass to anyone, there is no set of rules anywhere in the world, from any era in history, that could penalise Spence. However, now at least it was one gross injustice on either side.

Rather than heads dropping, Logica were spurred on to greater things by such farce. After a period of pressure, it was Lambert dancing his way past a succession of defenders that opened the door. As he pushed the ball between the last two defenders, it seemed he was clear, but once more found himself falling, falling as these last two sandwiched Lambert and sent him tumbling. This time the referee gave a free-kick. Sidaway and Abbott stood behind the ball. Would it be one of Abbott's prima-donna- style curly things, or would Sid give it an old-fashioned welly? It was the latter, but brain and boot combined to perfection as Sidaway bent a banana shot worthy of Rivelino around the outside of the wall and into the top right-hand corner, past the proverbially flailing goalkeeper. It was a goal worthy of winning the World Cup Final (for Brazil of course), let alone some Mickey Mouse SSSFL league game.

With ten minutes left there was still plenty of time for some hair-raising moments, and it was for this reason that it was decided to bring on Masting rather than the closely-cropped Toman to revive an understandably flagging midfield. Logica could have so easily have sown it up before the end with crosses inches away from their intended target, but that would have reduced the drama awaiting the final seconds and would not have been in keeping with the general dream-like quality of the whole contest. With seconds left on the watch Raiders tried one last raid. The right-winger (suitably enough named 'Major') broke into the penalty area, cut inside Millar and pulled back a dangerous cross. Logica were caught on the wrong foot for once, and the centre forward had the goal at his mercy. Incredibly though, Wildsmith appeared from nowhere to get a hand to the goalbound shot, but the ball only rebounded to the same player. With Wildsmith grounded the Raider tried again, but this time Hatton materialised from nowhere and blocked the shot with his knees. In the resulting scramble, Millar cleared the ball and at the same time the villain of the day blew the final whistle. Relief soon turned to joy as Logica pinched themselves and realised it was not a nightmare after all. They had turned over high-flying Raiders, and could now dream of great things to come in 1995.