Wednesday 26th December 1990   Portmere vs. Blaenau Ffestiniog 14:15

The wind was bitterly cold and the rain stung our faces as we walked towards the stadium. We kept our heads down.

Kevin Kendall was on the turnstile. He had his right arm in a plaster of Paris and a sling.
“Hi boys! Your Dad was right about my wrist. He made the diagnosis on the ‘phone! I have broken one of the little bones. He even said it might not show up on the first x-ray. I’ve got to go back in 2 weeks for another check.”
Kevin took our money awkwardly in his left hand and gave us the tickets.
“Would you like a programme?”
We both looked at him as if he was stupid.

We passed the kitchen. Bethan Rees appeared to have made a good recovery from her recent heart attack. She was cleaning the worktops energetically and chatting chirpily to her sister, Lynne. Big Sam was lurking in the background. He’s in charge of the hamburgers and disposes of any stray chips he can find and a few that are not officially missing. Sam looks as if he could have a heart attack at any moment.

Phil was standing in the queue waiting for a cup of tea. We nodded to each other.

“Is that cancer, Den?” Declan was looking at a large, black mole on Mr Crombie’s forehead.
“Don’t be stupid, Declan. He’s had that for years.”

Laurence Lawson walked quickly past us. He coughed loudly and I could hear him wheezing. Maybe I should have given him some antibiotics.

The Blaenau lads were jogging purposefully up and down the touchline. Half of our team were on the pitch, toe poking the ball about. The rest were in a huddle outside the changing room having a final cigarette before kick-off.

It was a dreadful match. We lost 1:0.

Portmere vs. Blaenau Ffestiniog.
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