This was a football mud-bath that could have been played at Vicarage Road or Turf Moor in 1972.     Only two thin strips of grass were visible down the flanks while the rest of the Enfield bog was a black swamp thick enough to have allowed a freezing Hippo or a stray hippy from Glastonbury to roll around in the mud.    Time after time the ball simply got stuck in the stodge while both teams hacked and plugged away bravely in the freezing rain. The Reds were on top for most of the mud-fest and we could have scored half-a-dozen – especially when certain goals from Louis and Tom were only denied by the best defender on display…Mr Mud.    On any other day their goal-bound strikes would have arrowed home but, in Enfield, they were bogged down in the mud only inches from the line.    Eventually, inspired by the tireless Tom, Daniel broke free to joyfully hammer a sweet shot over the mud and past a helpless Enfield keeper.    With only a few minutes left it looked as if our second successive win had been deservedly secured…only for Jack, briefly blinded by all that black stuff or memories of Fabianski’s midweek nightmare in Porto, to take a swing of his heavy boot at the ball.   He just missed and Enfield had their chance – Harry did his best to keep them out but the goal crept in and we were unlucky to be stuck with a mud-caked draw.    But Steve and Dan praised the hard work and the brave efforts of all nine of our muddy heroes: Harry, Jack, Alex, Tom, Nathan, Bradley, Sam, Louis and Daniel.