I never played competitively but, years ago, I used to play casual astro in Dublin. Generally speaking, it was two separate groups of friends who played with each other as we couldn't get the numbers alone.
Most weeks, we had mixed teams, which was the fairest way, as their group all played at a decent level with a local club team, whereas the closest myself and my friends got to 90 minutes of competitive football was on Pro Evo. One week, a particularly dangerous biff from their group made the teams, putting himself and his club teammates in one team, and us in the other. Bear in mind, we would be the lads you would pick last if there were even marginally decent footballers in the mix. It looked like it would be a whitewash, but we bit our lips and played.
What ensued was 60 minutes of blood and thunder football, where we crunched into them the way only unskillful footballers know how. We defended in numbers, caught them regularly on the break (they had too many Henrys and not enough Keowns) and ended up winning by a goal in the minute just before the astro lights went off. We celebrated like we won the Champions League.
We actually played them in a rematch 2 weeks later and drew, a match in which I sustained what would later turn out to be bruised ribs early on. When I regale the first story, I put the bruised ribs thing into that one to embellish it. Yes, I'm incredibly sad.