At last we feel that the season proper has started. The first signs of howling winds and lashing rain always make the more experienced Sunday League footballers feel at home. And of a fifteen man squad optimistically named for this first cup-tie of the season, only nine were present at the appointed tube station some twenty minutes prior to the official kick-off time. A school-boy planning error found two committee members in the same car, with the predictable outcome that they went to the wrong tube station (again!), and then got tangled up in some complex one-way system and were not seen for some time. The remaining committee member, Manlio Trovato, rang in sick at the last moment, having mysteriously caught some rare flu bug between the time of England’s magnificent triumph in Rome and Logica’s more mundane fixture the next morning. Finally, a new goalkeeper was enthusiastically anticipated, but unfortunately the only person who knew what he looked like was at that very moment heading towards Bristol in Hatton’s new jalopy, and we never did find him - perhaps just as well, all things considered. At the eleventh hour, some desperate Tier One mobile communication managed to direct the remaining squad members to the well-disguised venue, and the kit arrived as well. This, as ex-Supremo Clarke wryly observed, was more like it.

With such chaotic preparation it was perhaps inevitable that the Logica team would not be at it’s best. The omens were not good, as we had drawn one of the best teams from the top division, where a number of semi- and ex-professional players have been known to appear "for a laugh" on a Sunday morning. The last time we drew such a team in the Cup, Varsovia casually disposed of us 11-0. Sporting Club de Londres are in fact the London branch of the Lisbon based club (i.e. Sporting Lisbon), and have the kit, track-suits and general appearance of wealth to prove it. Thus, when we shambolically fell behind 4-0 with only some twenty minutes gone, emergency orders were already being placed for add-on abacus rows.

To Logica’s credit, the team recovered from their early disorientation, and whilst never remotely appearing in the same class as Sporting, at least competed a little better for the remainder of the game. Five-nil down at the break, Logica managed to restrict the Portuguese side to only two further goals, and even created a couple of chances of their own. Johninho was the main reason for this improvement. Lambasted over recent weeks in the tacky tabloid press, Johninho put everything into this game and competed for the entire ninety minutes. His tackling and chasing were relentless, and his composure on the ball was an inspiration. Spence was replaced in goal by Hoyland in the second half, and added an extra outlet for the beleaguered away side. It was Spence’s vision that created Logica’s first shot after an hour, but a tame Abbott effort went straight to the keeper. Shortly after, Abbott created a chance for himself which the keeper palmed away. That apart, Logica were restricted to the odd long shot.

Sporting in comparison were more than a league apart. Pace, strength, and skill left Logica chasing shadows for the majority of the game, and in the first half it was only poor finishing that kept the score to a "respectable" five. The seventh goal appeared to sum up matters, as a Sporting striker controlled a high-ball instantly and swivelled away from his marker in a flash. Ghosting past two defenders as if they weren’t there, he crashed a pile-driver into the roof of the net from twelve yards. Late entertainment was provided when Sporting were awarded a penalty which their keeper insisted on taking. Making an immense song-and-dance as he cavorted from one end of the field to the other, he proceeded to balloon the spot-kick miles over the bar. In the category of penalty-taking goalkeepers, Logica at least retained some level of superiority.