CHAPTER 39
Graeme Crawford headed away a Twin Knox Town corner.
Lennox Milne picked up the loose ball and the break was suddenly on as he played in Leo Martin.
Martin began to run at one of only two Town defenders in their own half.
He was tackled, losing possession. Town were ready to counter, releasing their left winger.
He ran around the edge of the Broxburgh defence, then cut inside, trying to pick out a forward to pass to.
Instead, he spotted McQuillan stepping forward and unleashed a shot of his own at goal.
The ball took a slight deflection off Murray Robertson and fizzed across the six yard area. Fergus Graham cleared it.
I grabbed hold of David's top. “I can't take this anymore.”
“We just need one chance, Sasha,” he insisted. “Just one.”
Joe made a double substitution, swapping one midfielder for another and bringing off a forward for a defender.
Lee Browne didn't react in the Broxburgh dugout.
Wilkesboro was drenched in sweat, as Martin said something in his ear. Wilkesboro looked to the Town defence, then nodded.
I wasn't sure what'd been said, but as play resumed it seemed we'd adapted our 4-5-1 system to a 4-4-1-1 with Martin playing as a false number 10.
“That's risky, but it might prove smart, especially with Town having the extra man in defence,” David mansplained.
I leaned my lips towards his ear, then flicked my tongue seductively across his lobe.
“Christ, that's good, Sasha.”
I retreated my tongue. “David, I've been following football since before you were born... I know the game.”
He was adjusting the bulge in his pants when my point struck him and he whipped his head to look at me. “Wait, did I come across like a know-all just then?”
I nodded.
“Sorry.”
“I'll forgive you later,” I began, “when I finally have you inside me.”
His eyes almost exploded from his sockets.
McKay played a defensive ball back to McQuillan in goal, inciting cries of “Attack! Attack!” from the crowd.
McQuillan encouraged his defence forward, particularly the full-backs in a style not particularly seen since Joe had been managing the club.
The 'keeper picked out Graham on the left with a pass worthy of the sweeper-keeper style he appeared to covet.
Graham looked at home running forward with the ball, overlapping winger Milne and continuing deep into the opposition's half, forcing Town's back 5 to widen their positioning.
He released the ball to Martin in the middle.
Martin nutmegged a centre-back, sending the ball to the feet of Wilkesboro.
Wilkesboro took immediate aim and fired a vicious shot at goal.
Town's goalkeeper dived to his right and tipped the ball around the post.
“See that, Sasha Liu?” yelled DeShaun's girlfriend.
I needed David to hold me back.
The resulting corner amounted to nothing, as the clock showed 15 minutes to go.
“Maybe you should text Willie again,” David suggested. “Get him to evict her.”
I looked at Wilkesboro on the pitch, as he struggled to make it back as quickly as Martin. “I can't do it to him.”
Town sat back, inviting us to attack. Crawford fell for the lure, straying from the back line to go for a ball he'd no business reaching.
He failed, leaving Town on the offensive and with the 'Burgh defence depleted.
It was 3 forwards against McKay, Robertson and Graham.
Town played the ball to their furthest attacker, looking like he'd only the goalie to beat.
Our right-back came flying in with a lunging tackle, missing the ball completely and taking out the man.
Hearts were in mouths around the ground.
The ref blew the whistle.
Robertson didn't even wait for his second yellow.
He was shown a straight red instead.
We were down to 10 men.
The home fans booed and hissed.
“He had to,” David said. “I know I'm doing it again, but it keeps it nil-nil. We're still in this.”
I no longer believed it was possible.
“If we can survive this free-kick.”
What remained of our defence made a wall inside the box.
Town's set piece starlet readied himself to have a crack at goal from 25 yards out.
Wilkesboro rallied his troops as he trotted to the edge of the wall.
Town's player ran at the ball, sending it over the wall and curling towards the top corner. McQuillan leapt at the last second to try to reach it. He failed.
The ball ricocheted off the crossbar and back down into play.
Wilkesboro hoofed it clear.
I'd one hand over my mouth, shaking my head. We were going to be playing in League Two again next season.
10 minutes to go.
Lee Browne was on the touchline, waiting for the ball to go out of play as 3 subs warmed up.
“He's bound to bring Wilkesboro off now,” David said.
“For who?!?” I demanded.
“He's useless out there.”
“We haven't got another forward to bring on.”
“He's done, Sasha.”
Milne was trying to cover two positions on the right side, but Town were taking every opportunity to exploit that flank, forcing him further and further back.
“Kill them off, boys!” Joe shouted to his players.
Black cut out a ball meant for our right wing, then played it up towards Martin. It was thumped out for a throw-in by a Town player.
Browne tried to seek permission from Wilkesboro to make the substitutions.
Wilkesboro shook his head.
“You need to get down there,” David said. “Talk some sense into that moron.”
I pulled my hand from his palm.
“We're effectively down to nine players the longer he stays on, Sash.”
“David, he's the manage-”
“Come on, DeShaun, baby!” cried his girlfriend.
“Why don't you shut the fuck up, bitch?” I yelled at her.
Several supporters around us gasped.
“Fuck you, Sasha Liu!” she screamed back.
David pulled me into his arms. “She's not worth it, sweetie.”
She doesn't know shit. She doesn't know where he's been behind her back.
“Yeah, keep your mouth shut, Sasha!”
I pouted in silence.
Twin Knox Town overwhelmed us in our final third, their playmaker combining with their centre-forward only to blast wide with only McQuillan to beat.
5 minutes to go.
My perspiration had stuck my bra to my breasts.
Sean Kirk was off his feet, giving Browne his say on whether changes should be made. Browne shrugged, as if the matter was out of his control. Kirk shook his head and sat down.
Joe was laughing at them.
Wilkesboro aggressively booted the ball towards his opposing manager, missing him by mere centimetres.
Joe and his assistant berated the fourth official for action.
The ref showed Wilkesboro a yellow card.
I closed my eyes as the seconds ticked towards the full-time whistle. Our experiment with the injections had failed. We were going out.
“Suck my left one, referee!” shouted DeShaun's girlfriend.
David's fingers tightened on my midriff.
Town thundered forward again, throwing players into attack yet leaving enough back to defend in case of any counter. Their burly number 8 passed out to the wing, only for the winger to immediately fire the ball back to him in a better position. He had a chance to shoot. He took it.
McQuillan caught it with both hands, then tried to quickly pick out a Broxburgh player upfield. It was intercepted.
My heart was sinking.
McDonald encouraged his players to hold onto the ball and run down the clock.
Browne was rooted to the spot on the touchline.
Town's centre-forward was played into Broxburgh's final third as the match entered the 90th minute.
His route to goal was blocked by Crawford and McKay in the middle.
He was happy to head towards the corner flag and wait for our one remaining full-back, Graham, to come to him.
Graham was heavy in his approach, but it didn't dismay the forward who played an easy ball off him to win a corner-kick.
Two legs and no goals. It was a damning indictment of our squad depth.
Town spent so much time taking the corner the referee booked their taker for time wasting.
The fourth official indicated there'd be four minutes of added time.
I crossed my fingers.
The corner was played short as the home fans booed the tactic, their players shepherding the ball and forcing Graham to come at them. Their midfielder goaded Graham, then hit the ball sideways towards his team-mate. He overhit it, sending the ball into no man's land.
The crowd sucked in their breath in unison.
Wilkesboro reached the ball first, then played a wonderful long ball up the pitch to Martin in the middle. Martin caught it brilliantly on the turn with his chest, sending it past two defenders and into a dead heat sprint for the next touch as the Town goalkeeper retreated towards his goal.
“What a ball from DeShaun,” I said to David.
He looked at me.
I didn't take my eyes off the pitch.
Martin outran the two centre-backs, nudging the ball forward with his foot.
“Shoot!”
Town's last defender scythed Martin down before he could take the shot.
There was a almighty roar from the Broxburgh fans, rocking Lady Macbeth Park to its very foundations.
“Cheating bastard!”
“Fucking glipe!”
“I'll shoot that wee shite!”
The ref showed the Twin Knox Town man a straight red card, as he was surrounded by a trio of protesting players.
He waved them away. They wouldn't budge.
One shouted right in his face. The ref produced a sudden yellow.
The rest took the hint, and dragged their booked team-mate away before more cards followed.
“It should be one-nil to us,” I muttered. “We should be headed for extra-time.”
We entered the 92nd minute of 94.
“Who's gonna take the free-kick?” David asked. “This'll be our last chance to score.”
Wilkesboro was positioning the ball.
McKay appeared alongside him, exchanging words.
Wilkesboro waved him forward.
“He's telling everyone to get up,” David said. “It's dangerous. We could easily give a goal away on the break.”
My breasts heaved in my tight top as I breathed.
Town lined up their wall in the 18 yard box, leaving four other players to mark the rest of our boys.
It was 10 against 10.