Weather hotter than lukewarm Slough

Slough Town

Slough Town

Bushay (70)


Abbott (24), Blackford (40), Cobb (46, 1-4)
League Attendance: 1018 Trevor Bunting
The sun is beginning to come down over Wexham Park, drying the overused pitch and baking those who have come to watch what is, in essence, the last home game of the season.

Small pools of fans filter down onto the terraces - talking excitedly but rather inaudibly of 'halfwits' and the like as Alan Thorne cases into his seat in the directors' box.

The match itself doesn't matter. Enfield are champions - and they proclaim so loudly while Slough are waiting for the last laugh which will probably arrive in a few weeks' time. It's just as well, for the Rebels are thoroughly trounced by the team one position above them. They fall apart so badly at times that it is embarrassing.

The game starts badly, and the first 23 minutes are dour, with the usual hopeful hoofs and plethora of kick-ins, the ball travelling aimlessly from end to end. Enfield take the lead from nothing, as Abbott arrived in a decidedly offside position with Bunting woefully exposed and easily beaten from eight yards.

By now, the outcome is fairly inevitable. The home side look justifiably tired from three weeks of solid action, too heavy and complacent to tame the visitors, and only the outside of the post prevents Cobb from adding to the score. That happens on 40 minutes, with Blackford hurdling over the goal-line after nipping the ball resourcefully out of Bunting's hands.

Sayer and Connor seem to be doing most of Slough's graft, and both miss rare chances, the former skying the hall from just six yards.

The score is 3-0 seconds after the restart, when Cobb is again adjudged to be onside and ambles his way round Bunting.

Only on 70 minutes do the Rebels get it right, with Bushay on hand to drive home after the defence make a complete mess dealing with a high cross and Pape ends up scrambling around on the floor.

Both sides have further opportunities; Bailey blasting a free-kick onto the top of the crossbar and Bushay seeing one effort cleared as it rolls over the goal-line, but it is a sad swansong to a difficult, though far from disastrous, season.

The light is dimming by the end, and the supporters are retiring either to the bar or the safety of the living room, to mull over the events of the night, most missing a late fourth as Cobb scores a carbon copy of his earlier strike.

Next season can't come soon enough.

Enfield Lineup


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