It is perhaps not so unusual that, come mid-February, Logica had not won a competitive game of football since the previous September. What was strange, however, was that this barren spell was largely down to a conspiratory combination of fixture computer and administrative red tape, and that with just two defeats all season, the club still harboured realistic hopes of promotion. The validity of such an ambition would be thoroughly tested this morning, since Deportivo came into the match boasting the same number of points as Logica.

It was a miserable, wind and rain-swept bog that greeted the players as they arrived at the Riverside Stadium, and Logica’s bright start to the match made for a pleasing contrast. Inspired by the central midfield pairing of Buck and Gautam, the whole Logica team harried and pressed their opponents into submission during a first half that boasted the team’s best football for quite some time. With Reevaldo and Lambert posing a constant menace on the flanks, Abbott was able to drop off and find space to act as the passing link between midfield and attack, whilst Hoyland’s pace and non-stop runs off the ball were causing all kinds of mayhem in an increasingly chaotic Deportivo rearguard.

The home side had already gone close on a number of occasions when they won a free-kick, dangerously just five yards outside the right-hand angle of the penalty area. Reevaldo flighted in a deliciously tempting ball behind the rigid line of Galician defenders but out of the reach of the keeper. Disappointingly there was no Logica player on the same wave-length and the ball ran out for a goal kick. Five minutes later, however, Buck was fouled in an identical position. Abbott at least had learned the lesson, and as Reevaldo whipped in an identical dead ball kick, the aging Lag peeled off to the back stick where we was able to fire home powerfully on the bounce [1-0].

It was not just their attackers who were in the ascendancy, for Logica’s back four were also in total control. Even when the ball did go beyond Messrs Hatton, Hatton, Trovato and Mainwaring, goalkeeper Booth was on hand (or foot) to deal with the danger. Like the time he sped 20 yards from his goal to clatter attacker and ball unceremoniously (and legally) into touch. So Deportivo hardly had a sniff of a chance until they equalised out of the blue. Their central midfielder, whose dimensions resembled those of a certain type of brick outhouse, picked up the ball in the centre circle. Advancing no more than ten yards he unleashed an unbelievably powerful shot, that swerved viciously in the wind before crashing in off the underside of the bar [1-1]. Booth had no chance.

Unphased, Logica responded with more of the same. Their passing was cutting the Galician defence to ribbons, and only an end product was missing. Gautam lobbed a pin-point ball over the top straight into the path of Steve Lambert, who had perfectly timed his diagonal run from left to right. The Lag wide man opted to round the keeper, but in doing so took himself a little too wide and then slipped on the quagmiric surface anyway. Abbott also had his passing boots on, and twice sliced open the visiting defence to leave Hoyland with just the keeper to beat. The first chance was blocked, however, and then the Sheffielder drove a low shot narrowly wide from fifteen yards.

Soon the compliment was returned. A weak goal-kick was intercepted by Hoyland, whose cushioned volley was directed straight to Abbott just outside the box. With ample time to select the fanny of choice, he tempted the last defender into a foolish lunge, which he casually side-stepped before elaborately rolling the ball past the keeper and into the corner of the net [2-1].

But there was still plenty more to come from Logica, and they carved out two further goals before the interval to round off a splendid half. It was the Methusalian Abbott who made and executed the third. Collecting the ball in the inside right channel he fed Gautam outside him. As the midfielder took on his marker and danced down the right, the striker began an arcing run towards the back stick that would have graced Big Ron’s Chalkboard. Gautam reached the bye-line and swung over an inch-perfect cross to the striker, who, unmarked, headed home from six yards out to complete a first half hat-trick [3-1].

Abbott now returned to the role of provider for the fourth goal. Collecting the ball in the inside left channel he looked up to see his strike partner making yet another probing diagonal run into the box. He threaded the ball between two defenders into the path of Hoyzone, who took one touch with his right foot before drilling an inch-perfect low drive just inside the near post with his left [4-1]. Surely that was ‘Goodnight Galicia’?

Much backslapping and stirring words at the interval yielded the standard result: a flurry of early goals for the oppo. Having convinced themselves that they needed a solid fifteen minutes to reinforce their strong position, Logica duly allowed Deportivo a lifeline within minutes of the restart. A free-kick was not dealt with, and a gleeful Galician fired home [4-2]. Worse followed five minutes later as some skilful play on the left touchline was finished by a blistering shot that arced over Booth and into the top right corner of the goal [4-3].

From a position of comfortable dominance, Logica were now required to desperately hang on for the last thirty minutes or more. It was time for the players to stand up and be counted. And Booth proved himself number one in more ways than one. As well as the spectacular shot-stopping, what marks the Leeds glove-man out as a class act is his ability to execute the less glorious parts of his job description. Organising the rabble in front of him. Coming to claim crosses through a melee of elbows. Diving bravely at the whirring feet of onrushing attackers. Rushing from his goal to get to the long ball over the top first, before dribbling past two, three, and four attackers down the touchline.

All this, Booth does consistently over a season, but for the next thirty minutes he did it all brilliantly with increasing frequency, and at times was single-handedly responsible for Deportivo failing to notch that seemingly inevitable equaliser. The pick of his many saves was the full-stretch parry of a point-blank header from a corner. He even got up to pounce on the rebound.

That is not say that those in front of him did not excel. They did. All four defenders regularly made vital tackles and interceptions, and were ably supported by the four midfielders doing some valuable donkey work. Slowly the belief ebbed out of Galician minds, and Logica began to create chances of their own. Abbott nearly added a fourth goal for himself when he raced clear of the last defender only to curl his shot inches wide of the upright.

Ever ruthless, Supremo-for-the-Day Hatton Major immediately substituted the hat-trick hero for missing his first chance of the morning. Fazel also soon came on for Hoyland, and the spritely Sutton replaced Buck just as soon as he had covered every blade of grass. Fresh legs helped to further stabilise the ship, and Banoub and Fazel might even have put the game beyond doubt courtesy of a half-chance each.

Despite this, the final whistle was still gratefully received by the exhausted Logica players, who could now deliver their ‘game-of-two-halves’ observations in the post-match press box with the satisfaction of three points safely tucked away. The goals scored by Abbott and Hoyland had proved just enough, but only by virtue of the heroic efforts of Booth in the second half. But would this long-awaited victory re-ignite Logica’s stop-start season? Possibly, but vital games against high-flying Spencers and South West Utd in the next two weeks would further examine the club’s promotion credentials.