No, Buddha Never Called Anyone “Asshole.”
Sorry, ¡FUTURISMOS! Fans, there’s no real write-up this week. Apparently the Gods don’t me to spend any serious typing time on Transfomers because we played them back in Game 6 and I didn’t have time that week either.
All too appropriate (as in maybe the Gods really are at work here) because there wasn’t much to say. The weather was just this side of miserable: 50-degress, windy, and raining… at night. It was fine on the pitch while running around but miserable on the sideline standing still. Transformers scored twice, once each half.
The first was a routine save that Elliot was going to easily scoop up but a ¡FUTURISMO! defender—not knowing Elliot was all over it—stuck a foot in the way and the ball was redirected to the far post leaving Elliot out to dry (in the rain, no easy feat). Basically an own goal. It happens. Not often, but it happens.
The second goal wasn’t complete rubbish but it wasn’t anything to brag about either. A ¡FUTURISMO! defender turned the ball in toward the center of the pitch instead of out toward the sideline. There was a Tranformer there, a brief scuttle of a mess ensued at the edge of our box and the ball ended up in the goal. This also happens. Far more frequently.
Aside from those goals I couldn’t say either side had many noteworthy chances to score. As a matter of fact I can’t remember a single close call either way. It was that kind of match. They happen. Now and again.
Then the game was over.
Your ¡FUTURISMOS! have been bounced from the playoffs. The mediocrity of our season wasn’t as average as I’d believed because I confirmed with a CSC official after that we’d moved up a couple divisions from last season. So advancing to the semi-finals and basically playing .500 ball against considerably stiffer competition wasn’t so bad.
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