Five on the pitch. Forty minutes. Centuries of composure condensed into the width of Nan's front room.
Every campaign leaves a mark. The cabinet is small, the weight is not. Each piece was won on a pitch smaller than a tennis court, against five men who wanted it just as badly.
The promotion campaign. Fourteen matches, eleven wins, one defeat. Clinched on a Saturday afternoon in mid-October under a sky that couldn’t decide what to do.
A knockout played across three Sundays. The final went to penalties. Hartley scored the fifth. Nobody slept that night.
A five-team mid-season tournament played indoors on the coldest Saturday of the year. Three games, three wins, a combined scoreline of 12–1.
The campaign continues every Thursday night. The shelf has been measured.
Down to the bare five against Phoenix 5's eight, Minan ran riot to end a barren run with an 18-2 rout.
With only five players to Phoenix 5’s eight, Minan set the tempo from the off and never let go, running out 18-2 winners to end a barren run. Jake led the goal rush with nine, Scott weighed in with six, Alan bagged two, and Phill capped a big night with a goal and four assists.
Alan put it down to taking full advantage of “their inexperience and a poor goalie,” pleased above all to finally get a win on the board.
Jake was less charitable about the man between the posts, reckoning he “clearly did not want to be there” — a suspicion confirmed when one of their outfield players swapped in for the second half, and the original keeper wandered off the pitch and took no further part.
Outnumbered but unbothered, Minan played the game at their own pace, easing off whenever legs got heavy. Jake and Scott were both in clinical form, space opened up all over the pitch, and passes found their targets. At the other end, Dave’s distribution out of goal kept the tempo ticking too.
Five colleagues, one Tuesday booking at Riverside Courts. The name is borrowed from a mishearing at a bar. Nobody bothers correcting it.
A full squad forms. Matching kits are ordered in the only colour nobody else is wearing: neon yellow. The club finishes mid-table and buys its first round afterwards.
Third in Division 4. The playoff is won on a wet Thursday against a team who insist, loudly and inaccurately, that they are the better side.
The breakout year. Eleven wins from fourteen. A league title is lifted by a captain who couldn’t find the trophy that morning.
A knockout tournament across three Sundays, settled by penalties. The celebrations last into Monday’s commute.
The mid-season indoor tournament. Three games, three wins, 12 goals for, 1 against. The trophy sits on a shelf that is visibly bowing.
The current campaign, live on the results board above. The cabinet has room for a fourth.