Vic-to-rious

Today was an unusual outing for Finn and his mates from Park Celtic. 
They all got soaked to the bone, but this wasn't unusual. 
It was chaos trying to find parking and the residents in the vicinity of the park were livid, but this wasn't unusual. 
There was a lot of stress leaving the house, with a missing water bottle, a change of shoes at the last second imposed by Mrs Raheny and the non-questionable order to take two towels with us, but this wasn't unusual. 
There were overenthusiastic dads shouting moronic advice at the top of their hungover voices from the sidelines, but this wasn't unusual. 

Finn's team won. 

And that was quite something. The three coaches (it takes three to bear a cross the size and weight of Park Celtic's...) were afraid to dare to hope when no goals were conceded in the first half (they'd normally be nearing the double digits by that stage). 
And when Park Celtic scored the first goal five minutes into the second half, the Musketeers adopted a new posture. They looked less old. More alive. Straighter, younger, stronger and bouncier on the side line. 
When their proteges scored the second goal (which was a real goal, rather than some messing in the box that somehow translated into a ball crossing the line and hitting the net), they could not believe their eyes. 
Months and months of going back to the tactical drawing board were finally paying off. 
Today they left Bushy park with their heads (and bushy tails) held up high. 
Today Park Celtic left victorious. 
And with the first clean sheet ever (or at least as far as anyone can remember).