The Gaffer - Davie Scallan. A man of few words, most of which are noises. He enjoys farting, talking about plumbing and dogging (empirical evidence available).  The Fifers' perennial top scorer and a model professional - modest and never complains about a decision going against him...

The holy goalies - Nathan & Manny. The former has an unhealthy obsession with Kanye West & the latter with baked potatoes. Nate 'Griffin' Roberts is descended from African American slaves, which explains his hiphop apparel. Manny is chubby, which explains where all the potatoes at FatJackets go AND where his casino winnings end up...

A rock solid defence - HIV Dunc(an Foreman), Kevin West & James McRitchie & Steven Anderson. All 3 possess unique abilities and threats, which make them integral to the Flying Fifers' quest for glory.

Duncan has to be in Dundee on a Friday and then Tayport on a Sunday morning for fear of Fat Sam’s & fry-up withdrawal syptoms. Inability to go cold turkey means he will never leave the club.
Kev - a superstar DJ - has a car and makes sure I can get to matches on time. His ghostly white locks put the frighteners on opposition attackers and his link-up play is pretty damn awesome.
James' no-nonsense attitude leads to more fouls and kick-ins against us than I care for. However, he can use both feet and weighs in with important goals now and again, so he can't really be dropped. Looks like that guy in the BT ads.
Steve is the 4th man of a Tayport-only defence rotation and is, comparatively, the new boy of the team, with the least number of appearances to his name. God knows what would happen if he didn't go through his pre-match ritual of Relentless & a fag (a cigarette, not a gay man).

The rest of us - midfield/attack.
Runaway Rob Metcalfe, like Marty McFly is stuck in the 80s. Armed with one solitary t-shirt and his trusted black arrows, Rob is the legs of the team. He’s fast, quick-footed and, due to some jiggery pokery, is on course to become the league’s player of the season.

Andrew Kennedy. When not in semi-retirement, Ken’s Berbatov-esque, languid style of play adds a different dimension to the side… one of raw shite. Admittedly, he did score a hat-trick once, despite the obstacle of a few cones.
Blacky O’Kane looks like something out of Twilight/True Blood/Buffy/Mona the Vampire. A stalwart of the Morrisons’ cheese counter, Nicky provides a secondary goalthreat and a talented foil to Scallan’s headless chicken runs.
Lastly, there is yours truly, Andrew Gillespie. It would be unfair to write my own little paragraph and so I still welcome SERIOUS suggestions for this space.