As Logica FC had not seriously challenged for major honours for a number of seasons (not in fact since the days when Captain Clarke was still at school, when the two ends of Sumo's short-strings touched, when Readie was still in his thirties, and when the first two yards was in Abbott's feet rather than his head), the end of season has not contained much in the way of excitement for some time. Usually it was just a question of playing out the last few games on bone-hard pitches just to complete our fixture list. This year, however, as we approached what was likely to be our last game of the season, there was very definitely something at stake. Unfortunately what was at stake was relegation rather than major honours.

The scenario was a simple one (luckily for Toman). After Gardeners Arms had decided to quit, and Logica had had those two hard won points deducted, we were left on the same number of points as bottom-of-the-table Dark Star : three! Win and we were almost certain to stay up. Lose and relegation beckoned.

Believe it or not Logica FC have never, ever, ever been relegated before. Thus the burden on the players duly selected this Sunday morning was enormous. No one wanted to be associated with the first failure in Logica's illustrious history. This threat of humiliation must surely inspire our heroes to brave deeds and ultimate victory?

Er, no, actually. Most of the team decided to go on holiday. Others were injured. One had fled to Japan months before-hand. The continental talent imported at the season's outset had long since disappeared. No Clarke, Trovato, Humphries, Millar, or Spence. Only eleven men, strong and true, were left. And unfortunately they turned in a performance somewhat lacking in threat.

The first half went the course of so many this season, A competent defensive performance gave hope of at least a point, but an insipid attack did not look like scoring very often. The star of the day was Tim Appleyard who, despite making his debut in possibly the most important game in the club's history (*Exaggerated Journalistic Clichés Ltd), showed a cool head throughout along with a rare defensive competence. His reading of the game was excellent, and this enabled him to cover behind his fellow defenders and make regular and telling interceptions. Surely a Logica Great of the future in the Trovato mould.

As half-time approached and two poor attacks were making a stalemate looked inevitable, the Great God of Penalty Area Pin-ball intervened. A number of Star corners had been dealt with comfortably by Logica, but this one was angled dangerously into the six-yard box. A tentative Abbott stood rooted to his line when he should really have advanced to collect. This left the ball to bounce off one knee, deflect off another leg and enter the goal finally via a valiant attempt by Xenophontos on the post to clear. The comical nature of the goal was emphasised by the owners of the aforementioned knee and leg: both Logica players.

In the second half attacking equilibrium was maintained but as time wore on and Logica's clutch on a place in this division began to loosen fast, the home-side's attempts to score became a little more desperate. Inevitable gaps appeared at the other end, Brian, and soon Dark Star were 3-0 up as long through-balls left Abbott exposed on two occasions.

The last throw of the dice was to bring Abbott out of goal and into attack, and it was the unlucky Turner who was sacrificed to become Logica's umpteenth keeper of the season. Hope flickered as a few half chances were created and missed as Sidaway continued his intelligent prompting from midfield, before Logica did in fact pull a goal back through Gow. A quick but hopeful long free-kick from Sidaway left Gow a lot to do, but a combination of brave determination and skill saw the youngster battle past two defenders before slotting home precisely.

As is traditional in these situations, the flimsy flame of hope was soon doused as Dark Star added two late goals to complete a miserable season for the mighty Logica. All that remained was a few consolatory beers, some rather desperate mathematical hypothesising, and a more realistic consideration of life next season in a lower division under a new regime.