Friday, January 22, 2010

Albatera - don't hurry back, hurry past!

Sometimes, when you've walked into a smoky pub and then left, your clothes smell a bit rank don't they?, well Albatera is a bit like that - you drive home thinking "what the fuck is that smell" At this point I need to extend a profuse apology. To the people who frequent smoky pubs!

Albatera is a small town just about twenty kilometres from Elche, as shit holes go it's quite a bad one, barely worth four lines on Wikipedia. Ten thousand odd poor souls, (although arse holes would have done just as well), live there and of that five figure number, approximately eighty five per cent are inbred. It shows. Manchester City striker Carlos Tevez isn't the most handsome chap is he, try finding his 2010 calendar, compared to a typical Albatera resident though, Snr.Tevez is most definitely Hollywood 'A' list.

Inbred number one, who, I think goes by the name of Gregorio, (initially I mis-heard and thought it was Prickorio), works in the football club ticket office at the ramshackle El Calvario stadium, which, if it existed in the United Kingdom would have been condemned some time ago. Dear old Gregorio it seems, has only one mission in life, namely to take ten Euros from anyone who passes within fifteen yards of his glass window. Aided and abetted outside on the gate by the ninety four year old bastard son of two cousins, G even tried to gently coax the Santa Pola Club de Futbol players and their Delegado, Rafael Fuentes, into parting with a few quid, (can you call Euro's that?), before letting them in to take part in the game. Next time, I'll suggest they call the dumb cunt's bluff, don't pay up and let Albatera C.F. explain to the Federation why the game couldn't take place. It's well worth mentioning that on the afternoon Gregorio tried in vain to trouser some cash from the Santa Pola players and technical staff, the visiting coach broke down en route and everyone aboard the stricken bus was mighty pissed off when they eventually arrived and in no mood for that old malarkey.

Eventually, just in time for the scheduled 1600 kick off, Santa Pola had cobbled together eleven players, some managerial types and a subs bench who were allowed in and a game of footy took place, granted not a particularly good one but ninety and a bit minutes of soccer nevertheless. Santa Pola scored first with an outrageously streaky free kick from German, who only has one modus operandi, kick it fucking hard and hope it hurts the goalies hands. Today, as it happened, the bloke in the green shirt was also the bloke in the photo on the homepage of this blog. Choki is his name and he made a bit of a pigs ear of fielding German's free-kick pile driver thingy, the ball bounced off his chest and in, 0-1. Sorry, don't care who you shout at, it's your fault sonny!!

Urged on by quite a few local spectators, who very publicly demonstrated their complete lack of understanding of the rules of football as only the truly ignorant can, Albatera were much better in the second half, a goal down at the break they emerged for the second half and took Santa Pola apart. Despite their dominance, the yellow shirts could only manage a single goal and the match finished one apiece. A cheery middle finger goodbye to the educationally challenged Gregorio and we were on our way. Ideally, Albaterta, who are a shit football team in a shit village of a small town will be relegated this season and replaced by a team from a town where the inhabitants don't hump family members to perpetuate a freakish bloodline, Full time 1-1

We'll see.

Top - the City of Manchesters resident knuckler scraper
Middle - the excellent German
Bottom - Carlos Teves' most recent one night stand - his sister!!

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