Strikers Instinct Read Online Free

clustered around their wireless sets on Monday lunchtime to listen who they would draw in the next round.
    When the draw was announced they couldn’t believe it – they were to face First division Bolton Wanderers at Burnden Park! Bolton were a professional side filled with international players, no-one outside Wishton gave the underdogs a chance. It seemed however that the footballing gods had other ideas. The day of the match was wet and windy – almost blowing a gale. The surface was slippery in patches, bog-like in others. In those days it took more than a bit of wind and rain to postpone a game and the match kicked off as scheduled. It soon became clear that this was never going to be a classic. Both sides struggled to cope with the surface and with the gusting wind.
    The longer the game went on the worse the conditions became and both players and spectators alike were looking forward to the final whistle. With ten minutes to go Bolton realised that they were on the verge of an embarrassing draw and they re-doubled their efforts, throwing everyone forward in a desperate bid to claim a winner. Unfortunately for them their centre half slipped in the centre circle, just as he was going to thump the ball upfield to his waiting teammates.
    The closest Wishton player to the ball was my grandad and as he quickly looked around he realised there was no-one between him and the Bolton goal – apart from the goalkeeper. Grandad put his head down and set off with the ball at his feet, dancing through the puddles and trying to avoid the boggy patches. The goalkeeper advanced right to the edge of his area – grandad didn’t hesitate, he pushed the ball to the keeper’s right and he ran around him to the left. He still couldn’t trust the ball not to stick in the mud so he continued to run right into the back of the net to make sure he didn’t miss!
    The small group of Clough fans went wild and neutrals listening around the country on the radio were equally excited. Bolton restarted the game and threw everything they had at the Wishton defence but it was to no avail, they clung on and the final whistle went. The footballing world was stunned, an amateur side had defeated a first division team of professionals in the biggest cup competition in the world.
    However, the best was still to come. Everyone wanted to speak to my grandad and although he was probably more excited than he had ever been in his life, he was also a very shrewd young man. The newspaper reporters and radio interviewers all asked him what he put his success down to and he replied with the same answer every time. “All credit has to go to my teammates and manager, they are the real heroes here but I also have to give a big thanks to my father, I drink Tierney’s Tonic every morning and it has made me the man I am today.”
    The next day the papers were full of the story and the telephone in the small shop began to ring and it didn’t seem to stop for days. Everyone wanted to know how they could get their hands on a bottle of Tonic and this is where once again my grandad proved to be mature beyond his years. He advised his father only to agree to sell to shops who were willing to sign up for long-term agreements. This proved to be a very wise decision because soon they had to buy up adjoining buildings to the chemists shop in order to implement a small production line.
    Great grandad was happy at last. He had wanted to make his fortune but it seemed that being recognised as an innovator made him happier than being wealthy!”
    â€œWhat about Francis?” Luke broke into the story, “Sorry to interrupt you Ed but I have been a Wishton fan all my life and I didn’t know the background to this story.”
    â€œGood question Luke,” replied Ed, “however, I must apologise, I seem to have gone on with the first part of the story for longer than I intended, the children will be back soon. Let’s