6th Oct 2017
Los Campos Under 8's Victory at Camber Sands International Tournament
The South coast of Kent has a history of repelling invaders from the Barbary hordes in the 17th century, through the the numerous French and Spanish invasions attempts in the 18th century to eventually repelling the forces of the Nazis to overcome the brave allied troops in WW2. In all these cases a strong defence was made possible by scouring the horizons of the iron grey sea of the British channel. We live in different times now however, and for once the south coast was conquered by a native force that arrived inland from London travelling south and took to the sword all those before them led by a vegan general with a voice softer than a marshmallow on candy-floss on top of a feather pillow. I give you Los Campos under 8's and their general/coach Kieran.
After the first day of the Camber Sands Under 8’s Football Tournament they were in the top three of their league and needed to climb into the top two places in order to have a shot at the final. In fact were it not for a "ghost goal" they scored that was disallowed in mysterious circumstances on day one they would already be in the play-off position come the start of the final day’s competition. In the event this was as academic as on Oxford Don on University Challenge as just needing a draw, they won their last game 4-1 to secure a place in the winner takes all final.
What's more, with a delicious irony they were to play the team they had scored the aforementioned "ghost goal" against, so here at last was the perfect opportunity to exorcise the injustice they had suffered the previous day. The under 8's team took to the pitch fired up with a sense of destiny, hope and purpose, with Kiran's speech not ringing in their ears as they couldn't hear his words because they were drowned out by the gentle lapping sound of the waves of the incoming tide over a mile offshore.
The opposition, diminutive in their black and white striped kit looked just like Newcastle, albeit from about 200 yards away. But they weren't far, they were near, and in Los Campos' faces. Campos were ready though, a well oiled machine, as well oiled as the Los Campos' coaches come 6 o'clock on a Saturday in the Heart of Hackney public house. Enough of that, lets talk about the Campos team and their soon to be triumphant players.
Like the bum-flap on an old punk's trousers, the under 8's had a great rear guard. In goal Nico, who would patrol his area with his arms bent mantis-like ready to grab at any ball like a passing bug. In front of him in defiant defence were Louis Olly and Flynn, that stuck to their opposition attackers like stink on a monkey. On to the midfield. On one wing they had Alfie, tall athletic with a killer's eye (which, if rumours are true, he keeps in a glass amulet under his bed). On the other wing Archie, strong, tall and silent. He would appear out of nowhere to score, tackle and break up the play like a wrecking ball at a Shakespeare convention. In the midfield was little Lexi all heart and knuckle. He'll stick to you like a limpet on a barnacle superglued to a plunger. In the free role comes Javi with his page-boy haircut and steely determination. A boy who's more at home in the box than a box jelly-fish in a box somehow boxed in at a box junction boxed up in the middle of a boxing ring on boxing day in China during the Boxer rebellion.
Anyway as soon as the final started there was only ever going to be one winner and spoiler alert it was Los Campos! After the final whistle the opposition kit looked less like the famous black and white of the toon army, more like Zebra crossings for Campos to traverse on the way to lifting the trophy. Two - nil doesn't tell the whole story but I've things to do.
So back to London with the spoils of war, the first successful raid on the south coast for well over 400 years, the team slept like babies on Sunday night, was it the exertions of winning or the stain of trying to hear Kiran's instructions. we'll never know.
Viva Los Campos Under 8's
Gideon Cleary
