It is in the deepest, darkest depths of Nha Be district, where we set the scene for what would prove to be an epic clash of the tri-annual meeting of Saigon’s oldest rivalry.

Once all the Raiders had completed their own lonely, independent journeys, it was time to put any ego or sense of the individual aside and come together as a unit and produce a team performance to overcome our bitter rivals.

Arriving at the pitch I knew more of the opposition players than I did my own team. However, after only moments on the field, our new additions to the Raiders family felt more like brothers on the field of battle, than teammates. It was this new cohort that would be the breath of fresh air to the dank, stale game plan offered by the S@*nts.

Just seconds after the whistle had left the lips of the leathery skinned officiator; Tam was seen to be gliding through the opposition defence like a “Gazelle” (Aron Schuftan, 2016), linking up nicely with Stu, the Raiders were unlucky not to take the lead.

It was the S@*nt’s Brian who would latch on to a speculative long ball and deliver the cross of a lifetime onto the bronzed, quaffed head of James Quantrill. The graceful Tam would draw the Raiders level with a well taken header into the corner of the net.

With the game all square, panic did not creep into the tactics of Coach Cartier, who managed the substitutions extremely well all game. The introduction of Aron proved to be an inspired inclusion into the Raiders’ forward line. The star striker popped up at the back post in quick succession to bag a brace of goals. Raiders took a two goal advantage and high spirits into the halftime break. Talk of a white wash and nail filled coffins soon dispersed as the Raiders set to the field with Tam’s words of “We haven’t won this yet…” echoing in their ears.

It was a lack of organisation and composure that led to a second Saints goal. The predictable long throw in was again predictably difficult to deal with, as the ball found its way into the Raiders area only for Chuckles Marrion to lash the ball home to raise the hopes of the Sa*nts heading into the last quarter of an hour.

As Tam was again felled in the middle of the park, with 10 minutes to go, Mike “Casper” Owen stepped up to take the kick, both his previous attempts had sadly failed to beat the first man. Owen’s non-existent performance hadn’t gone unnoticed as the Raiders’ travelling crowd began heckling the follically challenged frontman with gems such as; “You’re as much use as the Pope’s left nut.”, “Your performances are drier than a camel’s urethra” and “F*ck off, Baldy!”

Owen, who now takes his goalless and assistless run to two games, relinquished the set piece mantle to Rich, who sculpted a glorious delivery to the back post for the relentlessly talented Stu to loop a luscious header over the helpless keeper. Its brilliance was only surpassed by the following celebration which saw more guy-on-guy action than an Owen Greenow stag-do.

The deflated Sa*nts managed to sneak a goal back with the help of a dubious free kick, given by the silvery stallion, who had managed to stay fairly impartial throughout the game.

But the Raiders showed tremendous resilience in the remaining five minutes, holding off another set piece which was dealt with by the steadfast Harry. As the final whistle tooted, the jubilant Raiders were visibly relieved to end the game as victors. Individual performances were bolstered by an overall team performance by the players on and off the, pitch as well as the committed, travelling support.

Other notable performances:

Mirko: who made a great one on one save late in the second half.
Breustedt: who gave a classic captain’s performance delivering a few dead legs to the Saints midfield.
Pedro Petey Pants: who was at his aerial peak, winning a header, only to give away a free kick for handball and give himself a black eye in the process.

Written by Jamie Patrick