Titus Bramble Championship GW1: Return of the Draft

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Draft, the Beginning and the End.”

– Titus Bramble

Draft. Draft never changes. Much as the sea returns to source and the night shall have its dawn, draft, draft never changes. It is inevitable, it is indefatigable, it is a constant reminder of our fleeting existence, the grand totality of life itself and the infinitesimal part we play in it. Draft never changes. 

Tell your wife you’ll be late, book a table at Poets and tell the bank not to worry about suspicious withdrawals, DRAFT IS BACK, BABY. LET’S GOO.

As with all life last year’s Draft ended with no winners and many losers.

Whilst the entire world was brought to its knees by a global pandemic little media attention was paid to the real pressing issue of the summer: Who actually won the league, like actually? 

Somehow every single team in The Titus Bramble Championship managed to lose out on at least some amount of money despite two separate winners being somewhat crowned.

A rushed owners meeting saw *Name redacted* crowned the Pre-Covid-Asterisk-Next-To-Their-Name champion, a decision of complete folly that only revealed itself somewhat later. Following the resumption a spirited performance from Real Shepperton finally fell at the hands of the big bad Muschampions, seeing the Portslade Pirates take the After-Covid-Did-It-Really-Count-Though title.


What if the two leagues were added up? What if the unplayed City Arsenal fixture had given Muschamp and his men a win Pre-Covid? Did the change of fixture scheduling mean anything? 

That’s right, no one knows what the fuck really happened, and at the end of the day, was that not the most fitting ending really?

Away from the top of the table the 19/20 Titus Bramble Championship was not short of storylines, the likes of which would maybe win many an Oscar.

Preseason joint-favourites Accrington Grantley and Karius Fan Club faded into mid table mediocrity, a reliance on Reddit statistical analysis powerless in the face of Draft’s complete dedication to silly buggers.

Such was too much for the Accrington Board, who took an axe to the entire club over summer and rebranded as Royal Grantwerp F.C.

“Rebrand? No, no, no, this is an Historic club, always has been,” manager Doug Grant lied, winking at an Oligarch in the wings.

“Royal Grantwerp F.C are the people’s club, it just so happens those people are Russian oil Billionaires, but they are technically people too!” He added, swilling a pint of Gazprom.

In related rebranding news, the world’s most chaotic team, RED IMPS appear to have dulled their edges somewhat over the summer and are now to be known by the confusingly-singular and bizarrely-capitalised moniker Mighty imp.

“I just thought right, all caps is a bit much, so I thought right, capitalise one word and leave the other ya know,” explained head coach Keith Willford.

The Imps/imp them/it selves/self was one of the big stories of the 19/20 season, an unrelenting whirlwind of chaos that performed above every expectation to finish strong in both seasons.

Led by the somehow talismanic Willian and Fred, the artists formerly known as RED IMPS turned a great number of heads in their debut season, most notably that of KFC David Goulborn, who fell foul of the pendulum of chaos at every single opportunity.

“I just don’t want to talk about it, it makes no fucking sense, it’s total bullshit.” he stropped.

Elsewhere AVERAGE, the footballing equivalent of Micro Chips, was finally bested by humanity and got a right kicking in the resumption mini league, having made a mockery of us all the six months prior.

It was expected that Al Verage and his merry mathematical men would not be taking part in the 20/21 Titus Bramble Championship but new entrants FC Stratberg failed a fit and proper owners test at the 11th hour.

“FC Stratberg will not be admitted into the 20/21 Titus Bramble Championship following their failure to show sufficient accounts for the last 10 financial years,” commented a Titus Bramble FA spokesperson.

“The owners behind the club seemed to think that Instagram followers constituted income and furthermore opened each and every conversation with the phrase ‘sup my dudes, it’s ya boy Lloyd’. Such reckless dereliction of adult communication will not be tolerated in the league.”

Away from much of the drama, Sporting C.S.B and Real Shepperton quietly progressed through the season and rose from basement dwellers to kinda-but-not-really challengers for the top of the tree, a result so positive that Sporting Bossman Jean Barmbé stopped talking about folding the club for upwards of three hours.

“Was it a good year, yeah I guess it was, would I still like to fold the club, absolutely, football is trash now, VAR has ruined everything, I hate Deliveroo, bah humbug boo hiss harumph,” he opined.

The mood was decidedly sunnier over at Real Shepperton, where manager Tom Rush was rewarded for his late-season title slant with a new Forever Years contract.

“Yeah look, I always said that we were destined for the top and no one believed me, no one believed in us and that’s perfect.  We know who we are and what we do, humility, grace, and composure under pressure, these are the Real Shepperton ways and things we are excited to carry into the new year.”

“You threatened to kill yourself more than 20 times last year,” a Sentanta Sports journalist commented.

“Listen here you fucking mug no I didn’t, speak to me like that again and I swear to god I am off the fucking pier, what is the fucking point, amateur hour.” Rush screamed into his own hands as he thundered out of the press conference.

And so we go again. Once more unto the breach. All a year older and none the wiser.

Draft is back and IT’S LIVE.