Read Episode 8 Here.

🪦 Rising From The Grave

The sun beat down on a frosty Molton Road. Steam rose from the stands as a collective sigh rolled around the ground.

After commanding a comfortable 3-0 lead early on, we were pegged back to 3-3. A combination of bad luck, Guzan snapping a tendon when stretching for a stanchion-bound rocket, and the referee gifting our opponent a penalty when Barry had seen harder pillows while working at Dunelm in 1984.

Down but not out, it was time for our star man to rise from the grave of despair and clinch victory number ten.

The clock, finally right as we never bothered to switch it to British Summer Time, ticked on. 90 minutes. 91. 92.

The passing was furious, the middle of the park like a World War One battleground. Tackles flying in, screams of agony, interceptions like air defence missiles working overtime.

It seemed as if the deadlock would never be broken.

Up stepped Lynden Jack Gooch.

Our diminutive captain, playing in an unfamiliar right midfield role, received a pass from Crystal Dunn. Jinking, darting, he evaded not one, not two, but three desperate lunges as he soared towards the edge of the box.

A drop of the shoulder put him on his weaker left foot, but no bother for our Lynd. He lashed an effort, curling, towards the top corner.

The air was sucked out of the ground, the fans simultaneously rose from their seats as if one person, the sound of seats clattering acting as a metronome. It was as if time itself had stopped, until a subtle ‘ding’ and whooshing of the net was heard from Molton Road to Mumbai.

Eruption.

I have never in my 34 years heard a noise like it. It was bedlam, pandemonium. Gooch sprinted over to the fans, ripped his shirt like Hulk Hogan and roared in delight. He revealed ‘GOOCHBALL’ scrawled across his chest in what we can only hope was red paint and not blood. In return, the fans swamped him as if the Earth itself has opened up and swallowed him whole.

Our Captain. Our Leader. Our American Boy.

It was the win that secured us maximum Rivals points for the week, but it was more than that. It was a statement.

A statement that this is a team that never gives up. Never falters in the face of despair. That you can believe in these boys and girls, because they fight for the badge. For what’s right. For freedom.

Kitman Kevin was fuming about the shirt, but even he knew you don’t bollock destiny. Lynden got a yellow card for his troubles, but it was more than worth it.

We can buy new shirts. We can serve suspensions. But moments like this? You only live them once.

Up the fucking Yanks!

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📺 Previously On…

Chaos reigned at Molton Road as Goochball flirted with footballing divinity. Four penalties, a red card, and a 4–0 deficit had the faithful fearing the worst — until Mallory Swanson, wings unfurled, dragged the team from the abyss with a four-goal masterclass to seal a 5–4 comeback for the ages.

Barry called it “rebirth,” then fainted, while Guzan’s knees clicked out the national anthem. The week ended in madness, miracles, and the faint scent of cigar smoke — proof that at Molton Road, even when all hope is dead, Goochball finds a way to rise again.

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🆕 New Arrivals & Squad Tweaks

#HereWeGo – New Players:

🇺🇸 Timothy Weah (85 – RB) Faster than logic, sharper than Gooch’s fringe on a windy day. Spends more time overlapping than a Venn diagram on Red Bull. Barry calls him “the American Cafu,” — and he should know, he coached him at Palmeiras in 1995 while seconding as an au pair for Zico.

🇺🇸 Casey Krueger (84 – CB) Built like a chest freezer and tackles like one falling down the stairs. Calm on the ball, murderous off it. Barry swears she was born during an earthquake — and causes a tremor every time she jumps for a header.

🇺🇸 Diego Luna (84 – CAM) A man who looks like he should be in a Mexican drug cartel but plays like he’s possessed by the ghost of Zidane. Smooth dribbling, reckless hair, and a first touch that could cure gout. Barry once described him as “mercurial, but with taxes paid.”

🇺🇸 Owen Wolff (84 – CM) Looks 12, plays 40. The sort of midfielder who’ll quietly rack up 40 passes and three arrests. Barry says he has “the eyes of a prophet and the haircut of a geography teacher.” Reliable, if slightly unnerving.

🇺🇸 Zoe Matthews (84 – CM) So tall the Grand Canyon looks like a crack in the pavement. Dominates midfield purely through gravitational pull. The last player to nutmeg her is still orbiting somewhere over Birmingham. Barry’s terrified of her — and rightly so.

Barry pulled me aside after training and said he’s never seen a squad so tall, talented, and terminally confused — and that includes his time coaching the 1996 Barnsley U-15s during a locust outbreak.

⚙️ Tactics:

4-1-3-2 Full-throttle, heavy-metal Goochball. Both full-backs bomb forward like they’ve got unpaid parking tickets, and defending is mostly theoretical. Barry calls it “organised chaos,” though only one of those words applies.

4-3-3 (2) A slightly more sensible setup — the tactical equivalent of switching from tequila to shandy. Solid through the middle, deadly on the break. Barry refers to it as “the calm before the calamity.”

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🎃 Trick Or Treat — The Week in Review

Barry says Halloween isn’t a holiday, it’s a scouting opportunity. “Only the brave show themselves under a blood moon,” he muttered, before handing me another fun-size Mars Bar with a fucking bite already missing.

Of course Ultimate Scream, one of the community’s favourite promos, is back. As I mentioned in the last episode, it appears we’ve been blessed with approximately 16,000 new central midfielders, in a formation where I can fit one. Fabulous.

Week Two brought us our scariest Spooky recruit yet. Zoe Matthews, a 6’2” behemoth, is so tall the Grand Canyon appears like a mere hairline crack. However, she is nothing compared to our latest Evo.

Patrick Hickey isn’t a player. He’s a pure, unadulterated specimen. Standing at 6’6” and adorning the most majestic of moustaches, I’m pretty certain that, as he entered the stadium, he briefly left the Earth’s atmosphere.

Rub It Better Rob, our 25-stone physio, had to lend him his oxygen mask just to bring him back to this planet, all while Barry was on the blower to Red Bull to ask if they could do another parachute jump from space — only it would just involve Big Pat standing on a ladder in the car park.

What’s even better is that Pat has come from the Irish league, which means he should definitely bring us some luck. Surely.

Our second Evo has possibly one of the best names in the squad. A genuine juxtaposition, a ying and yang — Brian Gutierrez — last name of a telenovela star, first name of a lad who runs a chip shop in Wigan. Starting out as a measly 68 rated card, our Evo path has him turn into a genuine menace. But more on that next week.

While I’m extremely excited about welcoming both Patrick and Brian into the Molton Road fold, there is one slight bone of contention. The Evo requirements will take me approximately a millennia to complete. Honestly, these are paid Evos. I’m spending cold hard coins upgrading these fellas, only for it to take me 20 fucking matches to complete them. It’s genuinely absurd.

So by the time FC27 comes round we might have completed them, but they will have to wait — this week was about continuing our good rivals run while also Evoing our main man Lynden Gooch so that, finally, he’s no longer a silver card.

Weirdly, the Rise From The Grave Evo we put him in was actually a LB one, which gave decent all around boosts for a +6 overall, including dribbling, balance, agility and defensive stats.

Talking of rising from the grave (or probation) CCV is back in the squad, equipped with a handy ankle tag. He might not be able to play on a Tuesday night (court order), but a monstrous Evo might thrust him back into the team come next Saturday.

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📊 Week Summary:

Played: 16 | Won: 10 | Drawn: 0 | Lost: 6

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🌟 Player of the Week

Lynden Gooch — A true captains shift this week as he inspired us to victory while playing out of position on the right side of midfield. Ripped his shirt off, scored a banger, and probably violated three FIFA regulations in the process.

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🧬 Evo Watch

• Lynden Gooch:
  • Rise From The Grave – 70 > 76
• Sarah Gorden:
  • Phantom Fullback – 76 > 81
  • Ice Veins – 81 > 81
• Gio Reyna
  • Fast Like Adama – 75 > 81
• Lo’eau Labonta
  • The Big Fella – 84 > 85

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🪦 Closing Thoughts

Later that night, Barry appeared in the doorway of my office — face half-lit by the light of a vending machine filled only with Curly Wurly’s, and the embers of a fat Cuban cigar.

The smoke curled around him like smog on a Tuesday in Middlesbrough — dense, ominous, and faintly depressing.

He didn’t knock. He never does.

He spoke slowly, voice gravelled and low, each word dragging the weight of a hangover and hidden knowledge.

“When the tall one bends and the small one spins, balance will be restored. The wardrobe of flesh shall guard the skies, but it is the boy seasoned in tapas and sangria who will find the cracks between seconds. One born of reach, the other of rhythm — together they bring the balance on which Goochball hinges. But beware… for when the Hickey howls, even Row Z will tremble.”

He tapped the ash into my freshly made mug of instant coffee, gave a knowing nod, and, on the half turn when leaving, muttered,

“It’s all in motion now.”

He disappeared into the corridor, leaving only a very ‘ashy’ coffee, the faint scent of cigar smoke and impending chaos.

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Until next time, YEEHAW!