With the announcement on SkySportsChile that the much anticipated big match was to go ahead, we embarked on a specially tailored 4-day conditioning programme, designed to improve our speed, strength and stamina. The rigorous training schedule was conducted in the hot, high and dusty Atacama Desert in the far north of Chile, and predominantly consisted of cycling up and down towering, red-sanded mountains bearing rock-filled sacks, and carrying lumps of unwieldy lead back and forth across raging torrents of dangerous, near-uncrossable white-water.
Nature and the Elements vs World XIDate: 19th - 21st July
Arena: The 10,582 km² Salar de Uyuni Salt Flats and Surrounding environs.
Attendance: Similar to an East Fife home game.
Ref: Pier Luigi Collina.
The home team lined up in the tried and tested ancient rock formation:
The towering Volcan Licanbur keeping nets; a slightly rocky looking defence; a lake studded midfield; and upfront (forming a typical big man/small man strike partnership) a big spiky cactus and the speedy, elusive and lethal finisher - Señor Cold. Warming the bench; a load of geysers (fuming at being left out of the starting XI) and a handful of llamas, vicuñas and flamingos.
The World XI: Lanky Jim("The Cat" from the Juan Fernandez Archipelago) in goal; a backline comprising of Riverdance extras; big Joaquim (good touch for a big man) and big Mags (good man for a big touch) forming an impenetrable Spanish/Chilean midfield core; Kev and Jools running the flanks; a couple of chubby Bolivian utility players (drivers/cooks/mechanics/tour guides/counsellors)up-front. On the bench,(no anti-English sentiments intended) all the English.
As the teams faced up and prepared to do battle, the atmosphere was .... erm, well.....thin..as it should be at heights of over 4000 metres. With the senses dulled from the minus 20 temperatures and the extreme altitude it was first blood early doors to the Elements- an easy tap in from 2 yards after some good build up play from the cold and a cute one-two with a rocky outcrop.
It was end to end stuff as play ebbed and flowed for much of the remainder of the first half. But in general it was a cold, sloppy affair, characterised by the cactus and his trademark hard tackle. Neither team able to locate any barn doors with their banjos.
Fortified by halftime sausages and cucumbers the World XI hit back in style - determined to make it a game of two halves. A bit of jiggery, pokery, high kickery in defense created a fraction of space for a great
high pass up the wing of a flamingo to Jools, who proceeded to dribble;
..rounded a giant chocolate bar,
..turned a rock to stone with a dazzling array of footwork, nutmegged a llama, avoided the dangerous, late challenge from some geysers and showed a remarkably deft touch to lob the active volcano and draw things level. The girl done good.
For a game played out at such dizzying altitudes the World XI did well to escape with a share of the spoils and had to be the happier of the two adversaries. When The Elements central defender was asked for a comment at the end of the game, the interviewer was met by a stony silence.
At the end of the day, after giving 110%, we took an early bath. It´s a funny old game.
Smallprint: The above drivel was inspired by an actual game of football which took place at altitude in a small Bolivian village. The opposition: a group of 10 year olds. The stakes: a bottle of Coke. The winners: the altitude (and the kids of course).
Using me loaf, I got on the dog and bone to BA. Cor blimey me old chinas. What’s the jackanory? Them merchant bankers really get on me thr’penny bits. So, I took the trouble and strife on the Michael Caine for a butchers daaaaan saaaaf.
caravan park. Amongst the throngs of Poles, Ukrainians, Bulgarians, Romanians, Russians, Georgians, Slovakians (repeat ad infinitum), the two of us formed a thriving British ethnic minority of two. After a mere 5 days of back-breaking, near 12-hour days of picking raspberries and blackberries for minimum wage, my back broke. A broken back not being a condition particularly conducive to a fruit-picking career, we were prompted into breaking cover, beating a hasty retreat back to the safety and comfort of Jools' brother’s back room in Kensington.
