Caps 4 St. Augustine Lions 1

In terms of mis-matches, this was the soccer equivalent of the U.S. invading Grenada. This was late 1980's Mike Tyson fighting a crippled nun. This was the first scene in any bad science fiction movie where Caps are the ravenous creepy swamp creature and the Lions the almost pretty teenage girl who should have listened closer to her parents when they warned her of the dangers of taking the Old Mill road shortcut after dark. Were it not for an inspired performance by Rixom in the St. Augustine goal this one could quite easily have been a double digit margin of victory for the men (and woman) in orange. As it was, Caps had to settle for a brace from Wilson and one each from Hubble and Tennyson whose acrobatic bicycle kick left Coghlan and Meyers shaking their heads and ruefully acknowledging that a similar attempt on their behalf would have landed them both in a wheelchair and communicating by means of blowing into a straw for the remainder of their lives.
The game began at a pace that suggested both teams had been visited by the lobotomy fairy whilst they slept. But in reality, nothing so sinister contrived to give this game the waltzing at geriatric, drug induced speed. Father time, Father beer and humidity that made it seem as if one was running inside a large vat of over moist cotton candy were the reasons for this somnolent tempo. That is not to say that Caps didn't move swiftly through the gears when opportunities presented themselves, but it was the gentle, careful acceleration of an antique pickup truck rather than the feral voom of a Maserati, that led to shots on target.
As a contest the game was all but over within the first ten minutes. Caps scored twice and then settled into a rhythm of lazily knocking the ball around the pitch and squadering chance after chance when one on one with Rixom. Still there were moments of splendid lunacy that enlivened the proceedings. With Meyer a no show the goal-keeping duties fell to a rotation system that worked well until Coghlan took his turn. Showing all the grace of a retarded wolverine addicted to crystal meth, he allowed the Lions their only goal of the game and provided much unintentional comic relief. Shirley did a lot of running which made his team-mates nervous, DeMartini gave a clinic on how not to head a ball and Braun added absolutely nothing to the game, but did it in a manner that suggested there was less to come in the future. No mean accomplishment. With Zub attending a "How to play extreme sports and still look good" lecture in a hot tub in the mountains of Costa Rica, Zeits a wedding in Maine where no shoes was a requirement for admittance and Howell stuck on his commute somewhere between Jax Beach and Tampa, (Dante's 9th circle of Hell?), it was left to Hubble, Tennyson and Wilson to inject some class and skill to the contest. They failed.
Still a win is a win and Caps can be comforted by the fact that at least they are not the St. Augustine Lions seven a side team. Oceans of beer would have to be consumed to live with that fact. Oceans.