As a happy group of Covesiders celebrated our 5-3 victory over Norvan, we knew that the game following ours—the Freybe-Nordic match up—had important implications for our chances to be champions. Any result other than a Nordic win meant that we would be champions. So, as we bade farewell to Cam as he departed for his trip to Montreal, to Cloudy as he departed for his trip to Coquitlam, and to Bernie as he departed from sobriety, we wrapped ourselves up warmly, grasped our cold beers in shaking hands and settled in to watch.

Our pre-game observations did not cause us to feel optimistic about Freybe’s chances. Freybe had a team of only 11 and the total age of those eleven players was about 550. Nordic, on the other hand, were hopped up on Red Bull and amphetamines and had multiple subs ready to go. But Freybe won the crucial coin toss and had the strong wind at their backs for the opening half.

They took the play to Nordic early and often, creating by far the majority of the chances. On at least three occasions, a Freybe attack or set piece led to the ball bouncing around about 3 yards in front of the unguarded Nordic net, but no sausage boy or sausage man was on hand to apply the finishing touch. And when Freybe did succeed in putting the ball into the net, following a nice left-wing run from one of Freybe’s many mustachioed defenders, the ref (who we affectionately nicknamed “Frodo") waved the goal off and ruled the ball had crossed the end line. From our position on the sideline we couldn’t really tell if that was the correct call or not, but that didn’t stop us from being certain it was the wrong call.

The upset Freybian responded to the referee’s decision by comically kicking the plastic container that holds the goal nets. And here’s me thinking that when you get older you learn to have more control over your emotions.

Nordic had the difficult task of playing against the wind, and they were largely stymied by that wind and the hard working Freybe midfield and defense. Their only chance in the first half was created by Freybe: a cross was deflected in the air by a Freybe defender over his keeper towards his own net. He then retreated nearly under his crossbar and headed the ball away into touch. Bernie's sigh of relief was the strongest gust of wind we'd felt all day.

As half time approached, we on the sidelines felt it was crucial for Freybe to get a goal or two with the wind at their backs, as surely once Nordic got to switch sides they’d take advantage of the wind. In addition, we were all making plans to leave, as the gusting wind was causing most of our testicles to retreat to any warm and accessible spots within our bodies. But then the wind miraculously began to die down. And by the time the second half kicked off, we were all feeling much warmer and ready to start enjoying our beers
and Nordic were deprived of the advantage of the wind.

It’s a funny old game, football. Nordic have had a fair helping of good luck this year, with a number of late goals (and a missed PK or two) helping them get the points they needed to contend for top spot. But the football karma, as it always seems to, evened out today as they had the bad luck to play the second half without the wind at their backs. (And even more strangely, the minute the game ended the wind picked up again. Football karma: ignore it at your peril.)

But even with no wind, Nordic never looked like they were going to take over the match in the second half. Freybe seemed the more confident and the more energetic team. Their players were throwing themselves into tackles, forwards were covering back well, and their defenders making good decisions.

Nordic’s best chances, not surprisingly, came from T, who had one chance from a sharp angle well saved by the keeper and a free kick from the top of the box creep just over the bar. But apart from those half-chances, Nordic were not creating any problems the Freybe lads couldn't handle.

Time ticked by, and as the score stayed at 0-0 and Nordic failed to take any control of the game, we on the sidelines grew more excited about our chances of clinching the league that day. All of us, that is, except for Bernie, who for some reason was convinced that Nordic was actually winning the game 1-0. No wonder he seemed so nervous as the game went on.

But even those of us who knew the correct score remembered Nordic’s penchant for taking advantage of late breaks to snatch result, so we didn’t celebrate too quickly.

When the break finally came, it came Freybe’s way, when formerly-mocked-as-an-OG-specialist-but-now-our-favorite-player-on-the-pitch Duzzi was clattered from behind in the box for a clear Freybe penalty. And after a quick game of “I’m not taking it, you take it” one of Freybe’s elder statesmen stepped forward and coolly dispatched the ball into the corner.

The score was one-nil Freybe, and Nordic now had to score two in the remaining few minutes. An unlikely outcome, but, as they say, it's a funny old game, football.

We then began our vigil over referee Frodo, who, I think checked his watch approximately 42 times over the last few minutes of the game. And every time he checked, we leaned forward in anticipation then leaned back again to wait for the next watch-check. Bernie was getting so nervous that he
started a running banter with Frodo about how much time was left: “Less than a minute left? You said there was less than a minute left five minutes ago!”

Those minutes and seconds passed without Nordic creating any solid chances and the final whistle saw a 1-0 victory for Freybe and a league title for Coveside.

We’re all grateful to the Freybe lads for coming out and playing so hard in a game where, for them, only pride was on the line. Of course, actions speak louder than words and, while I'm sure they appreciate our kind words, I'm sure what they really appreciated was the free beer we game them from the cooler. (Richie joked that we should bill them for it later.)

We then moved to the Black Bear, where the beer and laughs were periodically interrupted by Bernie’s chants of Champions!