The Franco-British Team
The great match for the European Cup is still being played out, and I daresay there’s a record gate, though you can’t see the spectators from the field. That’s one of the rules of the game when this match is on. Our team is about as fit as you can have them, and they’re all good men, though some of them are amateurs and the Germans are all “pros.” The German forwards are a rotten pack. They have no dash worth talking about, and they come up the field as though they were going to the funeral of their nearest and dearest. When they are charged they nearly always fall away on to their backs, and their goal-keeping’s about the rottenest thing you ever set eyes on. I wouldn’t give a brass farthing for their chances of lifting the Cup, and if you have any brass to spare you can put it on the Franco-British team, who are scoring goals so fast that we haven’t time to stop and count them. The Kaiser makes a rotten captain for any team, and it’s little wonder they are losing. Most of our side would like to tell him what they think of him and his team: A Gunner of the Royal Field Artillery.