It was with some trepidation that the Logica FC players arrived at St Anselms’ Trinity Road stadium for their fourth league game of the season. For one thing, St Anselms were once more perched atop the divisional league table, and for another, Logica had never taken so much as a point off today’s opponents in three years of close-fought struggle. The final reason for a collective nervous disposition, was the large circus which had settled behind one goal only yards from the bye-line. One had visions of slightly askew shots being greeted by irritated Ring Masters, livid lion-tamers, or even short-tempered dwarves. In the end, however, a fine performance from the ever-improving Logica side blew away the home side’s pre-match assumption of a dead cert two points, and ninety minutes of inaction behind the goal hinted more at a dead cirque.

Johninho immediately adapted to the circus environment and firmly threw his hat into the ring with a pre-match comedy strop worthy of any highly-strung artiste. Pre-match media coverage had left nobody in any doubt that Johninho’s punishment for the previous week’s ‘Red Mist Shame’ was to be a game with the gloves on. Insensitive to the disgrace that he had already heaped on the club, Johninho was having none of it. "Why me again? I’ve already been in once this season" he whinged as the number one jersey was tossed into his quivering pram. "It’s not fair, everyone should take their turn." he mythered as the toys began to fly. "It doesn’t take any skill, anyone can do it. Why not Abbott, or Toman?" he stomped as we all ducked to avoid low-flying teddy-bears, action men and dribbley dummies. "It’s just NOT fair!" the burly Teessider finally stammered as he blew his big top and burst into tears. It was commendable that Captain Trovato stood firm in the face of such child-like petulance, and insisted on Johninho serving his penance for the good of the team. It is suspected that a close observation of Sr. Ravanelli over the last twelve months has had a detrimental effect on the star-gazing season ticket holder.

A hard bumpy pitch, liberally sprinkled with elephant shit, did not encourage quality football. Despite the previous week’s excellent display, Logica began nervously and St Anselms had most of the play without unduly threatening the sulking goal-minder. It was about mid-way through the first half when Toman received the ball out wide, accelerated past his marker and clipped in a low, hard shot past the flailing home keeper. Logica were not in luck however as the ball hit the inside of the far post and rebounded to safety, but this did inspire a bit more confidence in the away side. They continued battling hard, and some promising moves began to develop, although most fizzled out due to a rushed final pass.

As the interval neared, St Anselms took the lead, and it was through a mistake from Johninho. It is not clear whether it was caused by his chin catching on the ground, or his whirring bow-tie causing a distraction, or those farcically long shoes causing him to trip up, but our clown for a day hopelessly muffed a goal-kick and the ball ran straight to a Saints’ player. Two incisive passes later and the ball was in the back of the net.

Logica shrugged off this mishap and continued their endeavours although few chances were created. After a succession of comedy goal-kicks by replacement number one, Jeff Hatton, it was ironic that Logica should obtain their equaliser from just such a kick. Spence flicked on to Hoyland, who cushioned a pass back to Burdett. The substitute wing-back was the man to find the key to unlock the door, and a raking forty yard pass split the Anselms defence. Abbott was on to it in a flash, and two touches took out the last defender before he side-footed home from ten yards.

St Anselms finally woke up to the fact that Logica were perhaps not the pushovers that they had imagined, and a late onslaught had Logica walking the high-wire. The defence stood firm once more and Appleyard and Clarke were tremendous, with Johninho finally achieving some redemption with a solid performance as sweeper. Hatton turned out to be the saviour of the day, and a series of accurate long-shots found our latest last line of defence flying though the air with greatest of ease to turn each ball away to safety. Hatton seemed more affected than most by the proximity of a circus, for as well as his trapeze-like agility, he also showed on one occasion some deft juggling skills. As his colleagues perched on the edge of their seats, Hatton’s fourth attempt to catch the ball from a stinging shot just kept it the right side of the line.

In amongst all this Abbott even had time to fluff the chance of a winner. A good move down the right saw Hoyland lay off Burdett’s low cross. Abbott later blamed a bobble, but in any event the ball disappeared off his shin up into the atmosphere with less grace than a human canon-ball. And so it ended one-all, but at least Logica could be well satisfied with their first ever point wrestled from St Anselms’ strong-arm grip.