It was the day we’d all been waiting for. The chance for boys to turn into men. After an all-timer of a performance against tormenters West Wickham in the semi-final a few weeks before, a first cup final for 15 years lay in wait for the Purple Princes.

Back in 2011, Fuse was a young whippersnapper and Dave Harry was merely in his early 40s… Heck, Aidan was only 5 years old! Halcyon times indeed, yet much had changed since that magical, silverware-laden day. They couldn’t go and do it again… Could they?

The eagerly anticipated AFA Junior Cup Final unfolded in the deepest, darkest depth of South East London, necessitating one of the oldest and most treasured Old Tiffs away-day rituals – a train from Waterloo East.

The vague and unhelpful ‘smart casual’ cup final attire issued by the AFA was the only change from the usual routine, with nearly 20 shirted-and-tied men meeting (and in some cases, kissing) under the clock at Waterloo station bright and breezy on Saturday morning.

The scale of the day was evident when even the temporally challenged maverick Michael Birse managed to make the intended train. The journey itself was punctuated by stories of the opposition captain, crypto scams and Vegas debts… and occasionally a combination of all three. Nevertheless, nervous excitement bubbled away, with some of the usually loudest team members very much keeping themselves to themselves, even when passing the magical ‘Clock House’ station.

Heads down. Together. Focussed.

When the smart-shirted Purps arrived at Old Wilsonians, they were greeted by a rock hard, sandpit-goalmouthed pitch; with London having seen some of its first sunshine of 2026 a couple of days earlier.

Having explored the niceties of a smartly-dressed pre-game pitch walk, in an attempt to look as much like the infamous ‘Spice Boys’ at Wembley in 1996 as possible, a pre-game photo was on the cards. This however, was interrupted by Amr, who arrived in crutches (“okay you’re injured mate, we get it”) having somehow managed to break his foot playing beach volleyball on a school trip – a real disappointment after such a commanding individual performance in the winning semi-final weeks before.

The team changed and readied themselves in nervous, concentrated silence, accompanied as they often are by some tuneful yet confusing Turkish music, before heading out to warm up. Crisp touches, clear communication, and some words of encouragement before heading back to the changing rooms.

Skipper Forsyth’s final rallying cry, fuelled by a monstrous 6 hours sleep granted to him by his wife and newborn the night before, focussed on enjoying the day and continuing all the good work that had got us to this momentous occasion. Kimber nervously mumbled something about fires, bellies, ice and brains, before they returned to the clubhouse for the pomp and ceremony of the official pre-match walk-out.

Handshakes completed, and coin tosses won, the Purps kicked off – roared on by their passionate away support. It was a nervy opening 5 minutes or so in howling wind, with both teams clearly looking to test each other out, with Kimber and Harrison making a couple of crucial early blocks and interceptions to settle the nerves.

After that? Superb.

Forsyth led from the front, crunching into multiple tackles against his opposite serpented number (who swiftly subbed himself off in fear at half time, never to return) – followed by an immaculate Cryuff turn on the edge of his own penalty area to start a counter-attack.

Parkes, Burns-Peake and JJ11 were combining to great effect, causing havoc down the left flank – the Poundland Steven Bartlett wriggling free of his marker on a couple of occasions to test the opposing ‘keeper.

Other than giving away a free kick on the edge of the box that led to a Jordan yellow, and a resulting smart save from Seb, the Purps were mostly in control – and went into the break level but confident at 0-0.

The team talk centred on doing more of the same, and keeping calm at the back – and that if they continued playing as positively as they had done in the first half, the chances and inevitable goal would come.

10 minutes into the half, Forsyth opted to pull on his magic thread, making some changes to keep the tactics fresh and the knees supple. Gledhill and Birse entered to fray, adding some height and guile to the midfield, with the mercurial Davidson having joined the action just before half time to get the ball down and create.

Shortly afterwards, disaster struck. Having conceded a free kick mid-way into the Tiffs half, Civil Service hoisted the ball high towards the Tiffs box, taking the aerial route in an attempt to cause chaos.

The familiar cry of “JORDAN’S” rang through the air – the Tiffs midfield lynchpin having eyed up the ball for a thunderous header from way out. The call was subsequently ignored, and a miscued Purp-headed clearance fell perfectly to the feet of the neck-tattooed centre forward, who gladly rifled home to roars of delight to the men in red.

After all their good work, Tiffs somehow found themselves behind. But how would they respond?

Buoyed by the customary calls of “heads up!”, the men in purple immediately forayed deep into the Civil Service half in search of an equalising goal. Following good work on the left hand side, the ball was fired across the penalty area, where who else but that man JJ11 bundled home at the near post less than a minute later to deservedly put the men in purple level.

The noodle-haired assassin turned, jumped, and roared with delight, sending the legions of purple-clad fans on the touchline into beer-soaked raptures.

Momentum had swung back towards the Tiffs, and shortly afterwards, a flurry of corners each presented the Purps with a chance – the first was cleared off the line, the second blocked by the goalkeeper, with the third rattling the crossbar following a fantastic run and thumping header from Gledhill.

The Tiffs were baying, but would their luck finally turn?

Shortly afterwards, yes. Following a meaty coming together in midfield, a minor scuffle broke out with complaints about an elbow. The Civil Service number 6 (affectionately known as ‘Luke’ in the match programme) turned, sent a volley of expletives, and decided the best course of action was to disgustingly spit at MBP, right in front of the referee.

Despite Kimber’s confusing pre-game routine centring on (a) not chatting back to the ref, but (b) at the same time ensuring we appeal to the ref to get decisions, thankfully some of his words rang true. The entire Tiffs team went up (Kimber himself screaming from the other side of the pitch that there’d been a punch and “he’s got to go” – indicating very clearly that he hadn’t seen the incident), and the man in the middle relented – brandishing a fully deserved red card.

Civil Service would be down to 10 men for the final 15 minutes of the cup final – would there be a better chance than this?

However, the opposition were no mugs – showing their previous cup-final-winning experience, Civil Service sat deep, were solid and played for time – rarely making it out of their own half, but slowing the game down, and repelling each purple onslaught. After some smart saves, and a couple of efforts flashed over the bar, eventually, the final whistle rang through the air – the game was going the distance.

A short changeover at half-time led to a few more changes to keep the men in purple fresh, and the first half of extra-time began much as the game had finished.

Tiffs were well on top, but occasionally rushed and frantic with the man advantage, with final balls not quite coming off. That was until one piece of neat interplay on the right hand touchline led to Sandy searing towards goal at a tight angle. The middle-aged-Messi dribbled past his man, and sent a fierce strike goalward, with the combination of the keepers’ fingertips and the shuddering post the only things preventing him from smashing Tiffs into a deserved lead.

The back three were calm and collected on the ball, with Harrison in particular looking to maintain possession and build from deep. The only moment of nervousness in that half came from a lofted, 35-yard purple backpass that was met by gasps, that sent the mostly untroubled Seb rapidly backpedalling…

Under pressure, Seb sprinted back, and brought the ball down immaculately on his chest – sending the pressing centre forward out to the shops with a smart dummy, before playing out to his backline. The Tiffs stalwart showing his calmness under pressure as it looked like the game might well head to penalties.

The game remained level at the break, with Forsyth deciding to make some final changes – Jordan on at centre half to add some more composure to build from the back, and Forsyth & Talman back on for some more creativity in the middle of the park. There were only 15 minutes to go, and it felt like just one chance might be all it took to bring Tiffs their first piece of men’s silverware in 15 years…

Both sides were beginning to tire, and as the game wore on it looked like penalties was the most likely outcome. Shortly after the break, Tiffs were dispossessed in their own half, and the 10 men in red smartly opened up the Tiffs defence with a swift one-two, with their central midfielder firing across a fantastic square ball under pressure to the back post, where their bald-headed centre forward arrived unmarked to smash home. Sending the fans in red in that corner into raptures.

Seb was down in a heap after his despairing dive on the rock-hard ground couldn’t quite keep the ball out, and it was 2-1 to the men in red. Tiffs had fewer than 15 minutes to salvage something for the chance of penalties.

Forsyth once more went to his bench in order to get that elusive second goal, switching up the formation and replacing a tiring Sammarco… who was welcomed on the touchline by his brother-in-law, who supportively stated “I thought you were pretty ineffectual actually” as the full-back trudged off.

They huffed and puffed, but following some more smart game management from the experienced Civil Service side, The Brave Boys in Purple ran out of time. The final whistle blew, and the hopes and dreams of lifting silverware ended in tatters.

A narrow, devastating 2-1 defeat (AET) was a cruel end to a fantastic cup run. Skipper Forsyth’s main message at full-time was that while this was a great experience and we should all be proud, it should also give us the taste to go again next season.

After addressing the masses of applauding fans, the Purps trudged up the balcony to receive their runners up medals, and watched Civil Service lift the AFA Junior Cup for the 2nd time in two seasons.

Spirits were initially low in the dressing room as Seb elected to link up the bluetooth speaker with some melancholic Turkish melodies, but were soon lifted as Ralph appeared in his goggles and ‘shower shorts’… much to Kimber’s delight.

Pints and fines were undertaken in the sun in good spirits, with ex-Tiffs stalwarts from Jimmy Evans, Fuse, Dicky, Luke Peake, and the beloved Chairman himself showing their faces and passing on their commiserations.

Indeed, it was a brighter post-match for Forsyth, who much to the disdain of his teammates won his first man of the match award in… **checks notes** 7 (seven!) years. The skipper was last seen stumbling into a local framing shop, unfolding the battered piece of A4 fines book paper for the man behind the till…

Back to Waterloo East they headed, with a number of women’s, 3s and 4s players turning up to sink the last few pints of sorrow with the beleaguered 1st XI (#OneClub).

This time, it just wasn’t their day – but this cup run has shown that the Purps can mix it and compete with anyone at this level, and with a bit of luck will be finding themselves in more cup finals in the seasons to come…