Taking on Clyde United, many pundits thought the result a foregone conclusion.  

However, the Moruya men not only took them on, but outplayed and outclassed them in the first half.  

The erstwhile minor premiers looked confident, but within minutes of the kick-off the Blues were all over them like a proverbial rash.  

Heeding coach Saines’ advice to ‘dream to play and play like they dreamed’, they threw caution to the wind and were simply phenomenal.  

Fearless glove man Corey Powell was back in goals, providing a welcome return to that sense of unpredictable brilliance that the Moruya defence had been lacking of late.  

Coupled with the dependable central pairing of Darren Lynch and Carl Whiffen, Moruya’s backbone was once again in fine fettle – resolute in defence, miserly with the ball, but strangely generous with their advice to the opposition and the officials.  

In the midfield Moruya were spoilt for choice.  

Like a vintage sports-car they were once fast, powerful and beautiful to watch.  With Phil Timms and Andrew Gmur providing the engine that often threatened to grind into second gear, Ross Newman and Joe Hennequin were the well-worn but obviously classy accessories.  

But as fashions turn, and vintage is rejuvenated, this sports car showed it had a least one last hurrah. 

With the loss of Greg Downie and Levi Cameron due to sudden illness, Moruya were forced to improvise in their attack – enter captain Geoff Hodges and the dynamic Ligin Joy.  

While Joy’s bewildering enthusiasm was becoming more inspirational each week, it was Hodges, who captivated the crowd with bursts of speed that were painful to watch with the naked eye.   

Like a wounded rhino he repeatedly charged at Clyde’s defenders.  

Thankfully there were no great white hunters in their ranks and Hodges was allowed to carry on, often not slowing until well after the goal line.

Moruya’s goal was as simple as great goals often are.  

Mid-way through the half another impotent Clyde attack was snuffed out by the giant frame of Gmur.  

Despite his intentions the ball bounced to Newman’s feet.  

Newman collected and in a typically dazzling display of skill beat the same opponent several times, without making any substantial forward progress, before sliding the ball to the irrepressible Dave Salter.  

Uncharacteristically Salter opted not to turn and shoot, but instead aimed for the Clyde goal and sliced a miraculous through ball for Matt Fraser to chase.

Fraser veered towards goal and beat the last Clyde defender and he had only the keeper between him and glory. 

As time itself slowed, Fraser remained calm, deaf to his team mates’ screams of advice, as they remembered the fate of all his previous shots.  

Shooting low and hard, he left Clyde’s keeper with nothing to do but watch the ball scream into the back of his net.  

The travelling army of Moruya’s fans simply erupted - vuvuzela’s blared, women screamed, children danced and grown men cried – making it increasingly difficult for the players to maintain their focus.  

Now in a dominant mood, Moruya created a veritable host of chances and it was Clyde who was thankful to get to the half-time break only one goal down.  

As the second half began it seemed that Moruya’s fairy tale would continue, and indeed it was Lynch with the first strike at goal with one of his signature set pieces.  

But as fairy tales often go – the hero’s hopes were snuffed out by a cruel twist of fate.  

In this case a penalty against Moruya.  

A decision obviously wrestled with by the match officials, and described as debatable by at least one impartial observer.

Tragically while experience and enthusiasm can count for a lot – they need legs to run on, and fresh legs were now in short supply.  

Running on pure emotion, they were unable to traverse the giddy heights of the first half, and could not stop what may have been another reasonably good goal.  

At full-time it was Clyde winning 2-1.

But it was Moruya hearts that were smiling – everything else hurt too much.