Off Kilter – Season 3 Episode 3 | @PeterJonesPhoto

Here’s Peter and Alloa, at the conclusion of season 3. Will it be three promotions in a row for Alloa?

“Ever since someone said Alloa was like the music of Mozart, they play at Recreation Park, a footballimento knowing it’s a symphony.” He has a few chants up his sleeve, did Norman McCaig.

Back in Division one and we’ve established a nice gap to Forfar who we dispatched in a tight 1-0.

But first, stepping on to land their accident forbears could not, we welcome AS Roma for a second leg with a 2-0 lead. They dominate us again and we are wasteful with our chances. McGinty comes off the bench does not waste any time. But Roma run down the clock as the updates remains silent. A pleasing journey through Europe comes to a pre-Christmas end.

Clearly the heartbreak hangover hasn’t subsided, and we wither to a 1-0 defeat to a 2nd half goal from Dud. Bridget Bardot nowhere in sight.

Another defeat this time to the hand of the commentary glitch. Sharp turns in a rebound from a goal stanchion. Surely the ball was out of play? We protest but the Henry-esque goal still stands. Bastards.

Motherwell are in the oxygen tent and struggling. Ray pulls one back for them but we sneak a second half goal to stop the rot.

The lack of goals has been a worry but we don’t have the finances to sign anyone and I don’t trust our loanees. A quick scout reveals this fella, currently 6th choice stricker at Liverpool but valued at £1m. Worth a punt I suppose but that form is a worry.

Dunfermline put up a fight but after the threat of losing his place in the team, a Spence double sees us back in form.

From St. Mirren with Love Street and Martin grabs his first goal. Two goals from the back from Brown and we look to be playing some decent football again.

The Cow’s have come back to roost but our new boy slots in another. More pleasing is a clean sheet that has been absent for the last 5 games.

Morton anti-virus, fresh from the millennium bug threat, scan us, knows how to contain our attack and we’re out of ideas again. I’m close to having another clear-out and to bring in same fresh faces. Anyway, we use McAfree at the Rec. The software, not the bloke who appears to be a few haggis’ short of a Burns supper. Actually, a whole factory of Haggis’.

Rangers have been the headline news for the last three matches. The game keeps informing me they have suffered yet another shock defeat so it’s with little trepidation we make the trip to Glasgow. This Martin fella its quite good. I can keep an eye on him until I have the funds the bring him in fulltime. As expected, the news Rangers lost to us…doesn’t make the headlines. “Hello?? Human fly over here!”

We crack on with a victory over our nearest rivals. Brebner scoring from the resulting foul that sends Brady back to his over enthusiastic family. Fortunately, he’s only out for a week.

Hamiton are no threat to a team back in form. Spence reacts to his recent side-lining and scores a brace. McCormick tries to make things spicy, but a dose of yogurt turns down the heat.

Bloody St. Johnstone again. A drab second half and our mini run is over.

Motherwell come back in the hope of a cure, but Martin is a man on form and we’re into the next round.

They can’t stay away and we give a big hello to Dean Windass. “HELLO!”

Another draw and we have 2 (two) goals disallowed. The second one being the vague “The ref saw something.” What? What did he see? His wife getting off with the linesman? The hopelessness and futility of life?? What?? Give us something understand what happened. You know what? I saw something. A dodgy ref!

Ian comes on for an encore but the gig is over and we’re already piling out into the streets singing “Stormy Weather.”

Although the detail tells a different story. After half time, shots read 0-14 against a 0-0 scoreline.

Full-time reveals our profligacy in front of the goal reminiscence of the frustrating afternoons playing Championship Manager 93/94. 3-22 and it finishes 1-3.

Whatever the stats, we are at least in the playoffs!

How did we manage that? A tight 1st half but Darryl, pre-scalpel days, gives us a helping hand. Midway through the second half and we make 2 subs. Straight into the game and Brady gets reinjured and we have to play the last 30 minutes with 10 men but Celtic and are the least impressive side in the Rec this year.

It looks like the Cows will miss out on Promotion which is a cause for celebration as I’m fed up of the sight of Ian Crook. “Oi, Crook. You’re a crook!”

Two bit of good news follow. Our first full international! Well done Billy!

And we’ve won the league!

I decide to bring back the loanees and give them a run out. Predictably, Helen shows the youngsters a bit of leg and we create nothing.

Back on form and it looks like the experience away from home has worked.

Nope. The bedroom is full of dirty dishes, they’re sleeping until 2pm and the washing is yet to be hung up and starting to mould in the washer.

On top of that, another game glitch robs us of the Brebs. So many offers come in and by the time allows we to join the fun, Man U inform me that won’t be accepting any more. What?? We’ve been fattening him up for the last 3 years and that’s the loyalty we get?? Not even a penny is sent to us to say thank you.

Another big-club release clause comes back to haunt us and Donny barely lasts 12 months. But the money is welcome. First act of business, signing Alex Martin permantly. Liverpool politley say he’s not for sale?? Is it the turn of the century that the innocent gloss of this new fangle English Premership starts to fade?

Another dull came but we survive the honey trap and one of our youngsters pays back the loyalty.

And that’s that. Too many draws for my liking but I suppose the level we’re playing at is getting higher.

Oh really?

As usual, the FA put the fixture board on the spinwheel of uncertainly and two days later we’re playing again. Spence was on the viagra and we’re past the semi.

Aberdeen, clearly knackered by the 2nd half, succumb to our advances and put three past them. Looks like another European adventure. Get your passports updated, lads!

Hang on, this is happening too soon!

Fortunately, none of my protégées play as Spence is dropped after failing to score a single international goal and Pep puts the Scottish haggis to the sword.

On to the misty and rainy uplands of the Premiership!

Och aye for now!

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