Throughout the ages battles have been fought furiously over the ground surrounding Tranent: not just the prominent battle of Prestonpans, but also John and Jane’s 2012 battle of the Dishwasher cutlerisous -up or down?**, the little-known- well-known sojourn of Hercules for a spot of boar hunting*, with the latest, fought on the banks of the A720, the clash between the Watsonian’s L3s and Fidra.
So it was beneath this murmuring mantle of Peugeots and Fords that we once again took our stance on the battlefield and with the hawking scream of the whistle began....

Excusing the part in the story with the drunk centaurs, the gossip abound is that Hercules got advice from his old pal Chiron ( with further rumours of immortality) on how to catch his boar – something about snow and well, snow. Well due to global warming and the fact it is merely the beginning of October and winter is still only just pending, we could only rely on a sprightly icy wind. Perhaps not quite sufficient; instead we would have to dazzle with geometry.

And indeed from the beginning we did, casting triangles and hexagonals to the right, to the left, to the right again and occasionally down the centre, from which we got two goals. There were some short corners too, but well. The cast of the shapes did not always fall in our favour, with the help of a reverse hit that mythologists could go to town on (though others could label it an practice in not diving in) Fidra fought back. A casual foot in the D, whistle, short corner, some confused lines run, the famed reverse hit and a goal for them.
We began the throw our shapes once more, and once more we won a short corner, and did we score? Well reader, I am pleased to report that the drought is over, the sow is barren no more, cakes and breads for everyone because the ball left the D, the ball returned to the D, the ball passed around the players in a pattern that caused at least one member of the defensive section to take out their contact lenses and rub their eyes with wonder, and the ball hit the backboard. There was also another goal.

Half-time beckoned, and with it its usual refreshments***. Though this time perhaps two bags too much? For the feet that returned to the fray felt heavy, the steps leaden. Once again we began to cast our shapes on the floor, though this time we were perhaps more aligned with Footloose than Saturday Night Fever, with some occasional contact theatre thrown in for good measure **** The play, the ball and the players all roamed from end to end with our goalie-for-the-weekend occasionally being required to throw in some spider-monkey moves. Two goals were our reward, one of which coming from a short corner. Gasp. Does this mean that we are close to beating our last season conversion rate? Do we now have something to lose? Well, with an entirely accurate reported short corner amount of 3972, with 2 converted – that gives a current success rate of roughly0.00050352. So at the close of the fourth labour, that would probably be a no then, oh well.

For the record:
Proof levels: 32%
Successful shortcorners: 2
Number of metaphorical confetti guns harmed in the celebration of said shortcorners: 15

*Neither side has capitulated and rumours of press gangs roaming the streets are increasing
**Part of the Hellenic outreach scheme, an early prototype which journey and development through Greece and Rome can be read about further in the fascinating book – Book, Olympic Press 2015
*** Though we took the BBC route and discovered that other refreshment options were available: fruit pastels and drumstick squashies for the curious
**** see photographs

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