Logica went into what looked like being their last game of a promising season, determined to end the campaign on the high. Whilst the bookies had them down as favourites to beat Division Two's bottom side, was not taking anything for granted.

is experienced enough to know that there are no easy games at this level, especially where Logica are concerned. As evidence for this wise view, he had only to look back to the first league meeting between the two clubs, when his charges struggled to overcome the feisty Tigers by a narrow 2-1 scoreline. He also knew that our opponents would be full of confidence following their first victory of the season the previous Sunday, a convincing 5-2 demolition of fourth placed Spectraprint.

Following last week's selection difficulties, deployed some astute man-management stratagems to ensure bumper availability. No sooner had end-of-season drinks at a river-side pub in Chiswick been mentioned, than was able to announce a full-strength squad with which to try and claim a final three-point haul of the campaign.

The gaffer cannot be expected to think of everything, however, and a set of amnesic pre-match charades caused much distraction as kick-off time approached and a few players were still missing. A call to revealed that the talented Scottish midfielder had unfortunately forgotten that he had been selected. Cleverly, though, was able to trump this act of absent-mindedness; having completely forgotten to select the available , he was now mightily relieved to find that the unphased left-footer had turned up anyway as a ready replacement for

Meanwhile , an old hand where match-day logistical mares are concerned, produced an elaborate two-act farce of international calibre that all the judges agreed took pre-match cock-up creativity to a higher plane. He began with the relatively standard opening gambit of failing to note the earlier kick-off time, thus arriving just before half-time under the impression that he was early, and somewhat surprised to see the game already underway. He followed this up during a hasty effort to change into his kit al fresco with a classic slapstick routine that has made all his own, the one where he suddenly realises that he has forgotten to bring his boots.

But what excited the judges was a particularly clever and imaginative climax that built hilariously on this solid foundation. Eschewing the rather obvious and boring get-out of borrowing a spare pair of boots, or those of a substituted player, immediately determined to return home to retrieve his own pair and set off jogging towards the car park. A sequence of comedy-enhancing traffic jams later, the fleet-footed forward finally returned to the amphitheatre clutching the offending footwear with just three minutes left on the referee's watch. Keen to contribute to this comedic master-piece, then eked out the last laugh by neglecting to throw into the fray.

But high comedy quickly turned to the threat of farce when the identity of this morning's referee was revealed. Vincent Caulkin will be remembered by those who were there as the man who turned a good-natured and meaningless end-of-season double-header against Gardeners Arms into a near riot with a display of dictatorial ineptitude without compare. Here was a man for whom the sheer preposterousness of his almost every decision made Radius Reynolds look like Pierluigi Collina.

It was thus inevitable that an eventful morning was in store. Similarly bamboozled by the early kick-off, the Tigers kicked off two players short, but Logica seemed intent on proving the old adage that it was always difficult playing against nine men. The even battle defied the numerical imbalance, and it was only when the visitors fielded their late reinforcements that the Corinthian Logica felt able to assert their authority.

Master Caulkin was clearly warming up slowly, and only a couple of dismissive refusals to penalise blatant fouls on the frolicking (one tantalisingly on the edge of the box) hinted at what was to come. But even our arbitrary arbiter would have struggled to do other than award a penalty when a spell of increasing Logica pressure saw the ball played into the box once again. One effort was blocked, but with the Tigers' keeper hopelessly ill-positioned, 's perfectly placed looping header seemed destined for the top corner. Until, that is, a leaping Tiger tipped the ball away quite blatantly with an outstretched hand. The referee pointed to the spot, but in complete defiance of the laws of the game refused to show the offender a red card.

The spot-kick drama was intensified by the fact that the hitherto 12 yard master had somehow contrived to miss his last three pennoes in as many games. To his credit, had kept the faith, and the Lag forward once again placed the ball nervously on the spot. With at least one passing man and his dog stopping to watch, an intense cauldron of pressure immediately swirled around the Riverside Lands stadium as waited for Caulkin to fussily ensure nobody was encroaching in the box. But, after what seemed an interminable wait, the striker held his nerve to slot home the penalty clinically into the bottom corner, and Logica had the lead [1-0].

The tension eased visibly throughout the home ranks, and Logica began to play a bit. Some flowing moves followed as far as the bobbly Riverside surface would allow, and as the interval approached Logica were unlucky not to double their haul. Some neat interplay freed in the inside-left channel, and despite an unpromising angle, the Yorkshireman clipped a deft shot past the advancing keeper that seemed goalbound until it rebounded back across goal off the inside of the post. was quickest to react, getting to the bouncing ball first, but perhaps caught in two minds, a weak shot enabled the recovering Tigers keeper to smother the danger.

The second half found the West London Tigers with the strong breeze at their backs, and they began to produce some neat build-up play that belied their lowly position and solitary victory. Keeper had already been called upon to make a couple of sharp interventions, when some shambolic attempts to clear left a Tiger with an inviting shooting opportunity in the box. Rounding the keeper, a goal seemed inevitable until, from nowhere, appeared miraculously and without the slightest regard for his own safety slapped his face in the path of the goalbound shot. As he crumpled to the deck, trying to stem the torrents of blood flowing from his mouth, his colleagues were aghast to spy Master Caulkin far away in the centre circle pointing to the spot. After some incredulous protests had been waved away in haughty fashion, a grateful Tiger dispatched the penno in ruthless fashion [1-1].

Caulkin was in regal mood now. A Tiger dribbling two yards into touch was majestically waved on. Another Tiger desperately hoiking the ball to safety over his own goal-line could hardly contain his amusement to see a goal-kick awarded. Players on both sides quickly realised that those shouting loudest were invariably awarded the decision, and the game descended quickly towards farce as the Tigers forward line regularly positioned themselves 10 yards offside when they realised that no whistle was forthcoming.

Logica's frustration was growing visibly as they struggled against both the ludicrous Caulkin and a frustrating period of increasingly poor play. was booked when he loudly voiced the opinion of one and all as to the referee's level of competence. But acted decisively, first sacrificing himself for the fresh legs of and then replacing his out-of-sorts club captain with .

This was the injection the home side needed, and they quickly regained the lead. It was the penetrating run of substitute down the left flank that opened the door, although his dangerous cross evaded both strikers. But was in support to collect on the right, and the industrious midfielder turned back an equally threatening cross. couldn't quite get his toe to the ball, but as it rolled loose off a Tiger's shin, showed the predatory instincts of a striker, perfectly caressing the ball into the far corner off the outside of his right boot [2-1].

Once more the frustration evaporated, and Logica could even afford to join in the amusement at Caulkin's erratic decision-making. And with five minutes remaining they made the points safe with a splendid third strike. The build-up was less than elegant as a long-throw was flicked on by . jumped with the keeper and managed to get his head to the ball first. The ball bounced across the box before pounced to lash the ball into the corner from ten yards with a sublimely lethal finish.

And so the season had finished on a high note in every sense, or so it seemed as the players and supporters retired to Ye Olde White Harte for some well-earned celebrations. But as the Logica stars sat in the sunshine refuelling at their leisure, the other results began to come in from around the country on the vidiprinter. Champions elect Supercala had duly beaten Spectraprint, but Croydon Red Star had kept their slim chances alive, staying just a point behind the leaders by beating Broadway in their penultimate fixture. With three unscheduled fixtures to choose from in which to collect the three points needed to wrap up the title, Supercala plumped to play Logica. Quite clearly an unwise decision, and one they may well live to regret.