For once there are no words that can fully describe the post-match atmosphere as the majority of the players sat outside the Beverley public house, sipping slowly from their pints in stunned silence. Shock. Disbelief. Devastation. Depression. All those emotions that combine to make one feel as sick as a parrot were present and correct. Perhaps on-field captain Abbott best summed up the feeling when he remarked that he’d "never felt so depressed after scoring a hat-trick!".

So how can a Sunday morning football game in the Wandsworth and District Alehouse League cause grown men to cry? The context of the match gives some clue. Logica FC, after an up-and-down season, were now flirting seriously with relegation due to a rather sad and limp return of just thirteen points from eighteen games. Captain Clarke, who as Professor of Relegation at the University of Fulham is somewhat of an expert in the field (although not on the field, ha ha), reckoned a total of twenty two points would be required to avoid the drop. This was nine more points from eight games. Further pressure began to build up as news broke that divisional whipping boys Magdalena had dropped out of the league, leaving their assured relegation place up for grabs, and Logica denied two potentially easy points. Thus a game against the newly installed bottom of the table Morganite (one of the few teams that Logica has beaten comfortably this season) required two points without fail.

And this was the crux of the pre-match inspirational team talk; that it was absolutely essential to win. Abbott’s motivational capabilities were clearly reflected in the first ten minutes of play, during which Logica performed quite appallingly. Although Abbott was only inches away from one Masting cross, the remaining time was spent busily defending as yet again Logica failed to keep possession of the ball for longer than a nanosecond.

Thus it was not exactly against the run of play when Morganite opened the scoring. Abbott culminated a nightmarish ten minutes by trying some fancy back-heel pass deep in his own half, which only found the Morganite right-back. A hopeful punt forward completely deceived the back-tracking Millar, who finally stumbled to the ground allowing an eager forward to crash the ball into the roof of the net from six yards. At this point Logica looked a very sad outfit indeed, and the potential for self-destruction was clear for all to see.

Gradually though, Logica showed great character and no little skill to force their way back into the game. Toman positively shone on what was a sunny day anyway, and Masting and Woolhouse began to get more of the ball and use it well. Slowly chances began to present themselves. After a good build-up, Spence flicked the ball through to an unmarked Abbott, but, as the Nite’s keeper was caught in a two-minded no-man’s land, Abbott’s hashed attempt at a lob went horribly wrong.

Toman continued to cause havoc on the left, and a superb run took him past one man who couldn’t get close enough to hack him down, and a second who could, and who was justly booked. With half an hour gone, it was Toman who provided a deserved equaliser. Abbott was found in space on the half way line, and finally he managed to do something right. A perfectly weighted ball forward put Toman clear, and the shiny headed wing-back showed self-belief and perseverance to get to the ball before the keeper, and flick it over him and into the empty net (1-1).

Suddenly the tables had been turned. Logica were now playing with supreme confidence and applying all the pressure. A succession of corners and a couple of free-kicks in ‘Sidaway territory’ produced nothing, but two minutes before half time a second goal did arrive. The ball fell to Masting, seemingly trapped amidst a huddle of defenders. After the merest of glances up, the talented midfielder cushioned the ball on his thigh, and lobbed a superb diagonal pass over the Morganite back line. Abbott was equally alert, and timed his run so that he could meet the ball as it dropped. Side-footing it past a helpless keeper was then a formality (2-1).

Half time again found Abbott trying to fire up the eleven gladiators of Logica. It could not be emphasised enough how important it was to win this game. Wisely, nobody was listening to Abbott, for Logica exploded into the second half and for ten minutes tore the visitor’s defence to shreds. Possibly the best football played all season; the Nites were left in a daze.

Within a minute of the restart, Logica doubled their lead. Woolhouse dispossessed a slow-witted Morganite defender and instantly saw a simultaneous run by Abbott. The through-ball could not have been better, and Abbott took it in his stride and rushed goalwards. A desperate defender caught him up, but Abbott (in characteristic style) feinted to shoot before cutting back inside, and side-footing casually but precisely into the right-hand corner (3-1). This is what the experts call passing the ball into the net!

Ruthlessly, Logica continued piercing the Nites’ armour at will. Only two further pressure packed minutes had elapsed when a fourth goal was scored. A long throw from man-of-the-match Toman found Sidaway jumping highest and flicking the ball on. Abbott, marked, and with his back to goal, controlled the ball and swivelled in a flash, before smashing the ball into the roof of the net (4-1). An excellent striker’s goal to complete a hat-trick that nobody would have predicted twenty minutes earlier.

Would Logica sit back and defend this healthy lead with an eye on the desperate need for two points? No, they surged forward for more, and within another couple of minutes they had a fifth! Masting won a ball in midfield and used regular outlet Abbott, who once more had pulled out wide to find space. Masting continued his run down the left wing, and the three goal hero wasted little time in returning the ball to him. The midfield ace from north of the border considered his options briefly, before arrowing in a wicked ball behind the Nites’ defences. The keeper was tempted to come off his line, but Moore had anticipated the cross to perfection, nipped in front of the lumbering number one, and half-volleyed home (5-1).

The biggest home crowd of the season (seven) went into a frenzied orgasm of uncontrolled ecstasy (well, those who had not wandered off to get a cup of coffee did anyway). Logica had scored five goals in twenty minutes to obtain what was surely an unassailable 5-1 lead with forty minutes left? You’d wager your mortgage(s), car(s), wife(s), Fulham Season Ticket(s) on it, wouldn’t you?

The game petered out for a while as both teams seemed to have resigned themselves to a Logica victory. Then, out of the blue, Morganite nicked a goal back as a long ball found Logica napping at the back. One Nites forward controlled the ball well and passed to another in acres of space down the right. Only a magnificent shot could beat Wildsmith from the edge of the area at that angle, but that’s exactly what the second man produced (5-2).

The ease of this goal tempted Morganite to believe that the situation was not as irretrievable as it had at first seemed, and within five minutes they had another goal. A midfield scrum found the vertically challenged Morganite right-back stamping on Sidaway’s heel. The referee missed this offence, but as play continued, he could not ignore the self-confessed legend warning at the top of his voice that his opponent should be careful or else he might get hurt if he carried on in that manner. A free-kick was awarded against Sidaway for this ambiguous forecast, and Morganite punished this verbal indiscretion ruthlessly. The ball was hoisted goalwards, but appeared to be easy meat for Hatton. Its not clear whether it was a call from Wildsmith, or the sun in his eyes, but in any event the be-ponied libero ducked and let the ball over his head. Wildsmith was as surprised as anyone by this, and, remaining rooted to his line, it was easy for the striker to nip in and steer the ball home (5-3).

Finally Logica were stung into action as at last they realised the danger, and should have extended their lead. A free-kick was won, and Sidaway curved a superb ball in behind the wall. Abbott had lost his marker and arrived at the far post at the same time as the waist-high ball. Unfortunately his efforts to try and contort his right foot into position, only resulted in the ball whistling the wrong side of the post. Shortly afterwards, Spence was sent clear by Abbott but the chance was lost when a defender got back to tackle the Scot. This profligacy was almost immediately punished when Nites stole back a fourth goal. Woolhouse, also blinded by the sun, lost a ball on half way, and somehow Nites took the ball almost unchallenged all the way into the penalty area and scored. At 5-4, the nerves were now well and truly jangling.

And just to keep everyone on their toes, it was end-to-end stuff. Jobling, on for the benched Sumo, had Logica’s best chance of this period; once again sent clear he was unable to apply the required finish. As Logica held on desperately, the unthinkable finally happened. A long ball over the top (surely not) seemed to have been covered by the back-tracking Moore, but from nowhere a speedy Nite appeared, got in front of Logica’s last goalscorer, and poked the ball past the advancing Wildsmith (5-5).

Jubilation for the visitors, disbelief in the home ranks. This was compounded by a grinning referee who informed those who cared to listen that having stopped the clock as the goal went in, there were precisely two seconds of the game left when Morganite executed the fatal blow.

Still Logica could not exactly count themselves as unlucky. To lose a one or two goal lead is perhaps disappointing, to lose a three goal lead would be downright careless, but to surrender a four goal lead is just bloody incompetent. Perhaps the boys in white could excuse themselves on the grounds of unfamiliar territory. This was the first time this season that Logica had scored more than four, and also the first time that they had held anything more than a two goal lead. However it seems unlikely that they will gain much more experience at handling such heady situations in the near future. And one point will not go a long way to easing Clarke’s relegation fears. Six games left, eight points required.