28th September 2016 - Cheadle Town 1 v 4 Widnes FC - I had spent a day shrooming again and clocked up 92 species by the time I arrived at the game tonight. Not a bad effort considering it was a struggle but I was paying the price by overworking my Achilles Tendon and having a fair amount of grief. Luckily I had another dose of non-league footy to take my mind of things and with a caressing zephyr blowing across the ground and an obvious autumnal feel in the air I awaited an encounter which saw two teams still trying to get their gnashers into the season proper and build something akin to impetus. Saying that, Widnes are doing well this year and with the 2 Lomax lads up front things look set to get a whole lot better!
And the ball is rolling...
No sooner had the globe been kicked than Cheadle had pilfered the ball and won a corner from which a cross was latched onto and the bar was struck. Phew. Widnes immediately responded which saw a run, cross and final volley duly saved and keep the embryonic game level - double ruddy phew! Widnes gave the early impression of being organised and built from the back whilst Cheadle were as industrious as ever and occasionally testing the opposition's keeper. The home teams No 9 was putting in a good stint and keeping the rear guard of Widnes honest and got his due reward when a good pass was latched onto and hammered home with aplomb. The oppositions number 9 was equally menacing and linked up with his fellow team mates that made for some very eye-catching manoeuvres. It was frantic end to end stuff with half chances coming thick and fast, in fact a bit like the bowel movements of an elephant on fig juice - ooh err! The equaliser looked imminent and arrived when another neat pinging movement saw the Cheadle boys stand off and go to ground a little too easily and allow Jack Graham to slap the ball homeward. Cheadle should have instantaneously gone back in front after an awful goalkeeping clearance was picked up by that man No 9 again and struck goalward with the netman somehow redeeming himself with a low save. Lucky bugger! Hectic action came and it was noteworthy that the main flaw with both sides was their inability to relax. More problems were made than what were necessary due to a reluctance to get the ball, take stock, assess the situation and pick ones pass. The half continued in the same vein - huff, puff error, huff, puff, error ad infinitum. Still, exciting for the neutral tha' knows!
Half time, bag of crisps and a chill and watching the leaves start to fall. Many looked at their phones, I am stubborn bugger and am resisting that techno-twattology!
Back to the game and the Cheadle Greens came out as did their rivals the Widnes Yellows - almost like a flock of Yellowhammers going at it claw to claw with a gathering of Greenfinches - let us hope feathers fly - oh I do digress!
The start to the second period was scrappy, Widnes slightly imposed their physical advantage, turned the screw and put the home team on the back peg. There seemed to be a lot of industry from both sides and an equal abundance of wasted breath with untold mistakes creeping in. Widnes should have taken the lead after their frontman attempted to lob the keeper from close range but it was a poor effort and was plucked out of the air with ease. Cheadle wormed back in and beavered away like flies with a fever but when Chris Lomax of Widnes rattled in a goal it seemed to alter the overall dynamics and give the away 'erberts a big up in confidence. It was a goal out of nothing and forced Cheadle to scurry harder which duly led to Mr Lomax popping up again and hitting the net for the second time and making a two-goal cushion seem insurmountable. Cheadle searched for the plot, seemed all at sea and when a 4th goal added salt to an open wound that was that and it was obvious to all that were in attendance that there would be no way back for a home team completely out of sync. Widnes were more aware, had more adhesion and offered more movement and as Cheadle tried to force a way back in to the match it was Widnes who finished with the upper hand and deservedly took all three points back home. A woeful performance by the home team and far too hurried and hectic for their own good. As said, the match was a bustling affair and for me the only chap who offered any glimpse of calmness was my pick for Man of the Match, one (Oladimeji Odesanya), a cool customer who would not be flustered and who has a name that would score mighty heavily in a game of Scrabble - bonus.
FINAL THOUGHT - An entertaining match that highlighted the high fitness levels of these players and their inner passion to get stuck in. The most striking aspect though is that both teams need to calm down and play a game that is more thoughtful and considered. I once knew a man who buzzed about at great speed and did everything in a rush - one day he became such a blur that all that he did was deemed indecipherable and pointless - oh and his nob dropped off - think on ye players, think on and...calm down!
Thursday 29 September 2016
Tuesday 27 September 2016
MANK AND MURK CLASSIC
26th September 2016 - Maine Road 5 v 4 Bootle FC - A day catching up with moth, butterfly and hoverfly records, a 3 mile wander, a read of an Agatha Christie novel, some good scram and a few household chores - ooh I needed a footy fix. I arrived at the ground in the mushroom friendly rain and watched the teams go through the warm-up motions. A chill was in the air and I suspected that before the night was out my nipples would be doing a fine old impression of freshly pulled wine-corks...ooh heck. Little did I realise though that the cause of this pap-based erection would be down to the thrilling football and not the subtle drop in the thermals.
Kick off came on the greasy, bejewelled green and the liquid leveller still dropped from the heavens. Things looked set for a goal fest but I was as surprised as anyone when Bootle started the came, glued together a couple of passes and put their first strike home with only 17 seconds on the tick-tock. The goalkeeper didn't move - was there a deflection or was it a case of cruelly caught cold? What a start! Maine Road needed a quick response, went back to the centre spot, flicked the ball around and after a quick run by an attacker forced an immediate penalty which was slapped away with aplomb - 2 minutes gone, 1 goal each - hold onto your nadgers folks. My mate turned up a few minutes later with a couple of cups of cha and when I informed him that 2 goals were already netted he stared at me in disbelief. No sooner had his rear touch the bench and The Road were 2 - 1 up after Richard Williams bagged a goal and contributed to the continuation of the madness. Bootle responded and a shot was cracked forth, it pinged about and could have gone anywhere but, on this night of goal mania, the away side picked up the scraps and suddenly we had an equaliser on the score card - pass me the ruddy tranquillisers, I am too old for this lark. Bootle continued to push now, the No 10 offering angles and the centre forward being a menace. Maine Road offered stout resistance and counterpunched with danger and when Bootle attacked it came as no surprise that a reaction came, Maine attacked down the wing, a superb cross was launched and a sliding tap in gave the home chaps a 3 - 2 advantage. Williams again, 2 for the night and surely hopeful of more. 24 minutes down, 5 goals and when the 37th minute saw Williams bag his hat-trick and leave Bootle 2 goals in the red one still felt the match was far from done and dusted and expectations were justifiably high. Bootle continued to play football, admirable indeed and both sides exhibited a strong desire which, once again, highlighted what a quality league we have to applaud. The break came, many chances in the last 9 minutes were had, this was a beauty!
A cup of cha', a pie for Ged (greedy bugger) and a large Twix for me (the food of the chocolate Gods) and back out into the drizzle highly enthused.
Half number 2 and Bootle were straight on it with a toss into the box testing the keeper who duly responded with a firm and reliable clutch. The repeat move came immediately, another chance ball chucked into the danger zone - this time the keeper dropped the globe like it was a freshly baked turd and the alleged rancid sphere was booted home and the game was back on. Instantaneously and quite remarkably another lofted ball was risked, this time the keeper punched and Lady Luck made sure that all was cleared and the ensuing fast and furious pace continued. Despite the hectic nature of the game both teams attempted to play football and all and sundry were being treated to a night of guts, desire, decent gamesmanship and all round dedication.
The frantic pace was surely going to be a factor late in the game and has Bootle cultivated a 'boom time' and repetitively hammered the home side Maine Road responded with a streaking runner creating a situation were two desperate goal line clearances helped keep the game at 4 - 3. A fascinating affair this with chance after chance transpiring and both units going for the jugular. Well wankered legs were being worked hard and after a manic Bootle push Maine Road produced a response that was smooth, silky and finalised with a killer blow - 5 goals to 3 - was that the game done? Only 8 minutes on the clock and all seemed finalised but when another hopeful lob was met by the crust of Ryan Cox for Bootle and the net duly rippled it seemed we were destined for a fitting finale. Only one goal in it, the toss of a coin would be easier to predict and although one suspected an equaliser could come, the Blues held on and took all three points from an absolutely storming game. Man of the Match, by crikey what a task! I shall opt for Road's No 2 (Joel Senior) who thrusted like a demon, stayed calm in the storm and worked his arse off at the back to keep his side ahead - good lad.
FINAL THOUGHT - These are the bare facts - The shows of Benny Hill have never provided as much excitement as what was on show tonight. Never in a million years would you get such value from a game of football as you do in the Hallmark Security League. If you spent the night with Hilda Baker on a love potion you wouldn't come away as shagged out as you would watching this game. The next time you watch either of these sides it goes without saying that you will need a change of underwear, a few packets of Valium and a good dose of Reality Tablets to bring you back to earth. Two fine teams, applause for the footballing efforts and both will do OK this season and, I reckon, be involved in many more crazy kick abouts - thank goodness for that!
Kick off came on the greasy, bejewelled green and the liquid leveller still dropped from the heavens. Things looked set for a goal fest but I was as surprised as anyone when Bootle started the came, glued together a couple of passes and put their first strike home with only 17 seconds on the tick-tock. The goalkeeper didn't move - was there a deflection or was it a case of cruelly caught cold? What a start! Maine Road needed a quick response, went back to the centre spot, flicked the ball around and after a quick run by an attacker forced an immediate penalty which was slapped away with aplomb - 2 minutes gone, 1 goal each - hold onto your nadgers folks. My mate turned up a few minutes later with a couple of cups of cha and when I informed him that 2 goals were already netted he stared at me in disbelief. No sooner had his rear touch the bench and The Road were 2 - 1 up after Richard Williams bagged a goal and contributed to the continuation of the madness. Bootle responded and a shot was cracked forth, it pinged about and could have gone anywhere but, on this night of goal mania, the away side picked up the scraps and suddenly we had an equaliser on the score card - pass me the ruddy tranquillisers, I am too old for this lark. Bootle continued to push now, the No 10 offering angles and the centre forward being a menace. Maine Road offered stout resistance and counterpunched with danger and when Bootle attacked it came as no surprise that a reaction came, Maine attacked down the wing, a superb cross was launched and a sliding tap in gave the home chaps a 3 - 2 advantage. Williams again, 2 for the night and surely hopeful of more. 24 minutes down, 5 goals and when the 37th minute saw Williams bag his hat-trick and leave Bootle 2 goals in the red one still felt the match was far from done and dusted and expectations were justifiably high. Bootle continued to play football, admirable indeed and both sides exhibited a strong desire which, once again, highlighted what a quality league we have to applaud. The break came, many chances in the last 9 minutes were had, this was a beauty!
A cup of cha', a pie for Ged (greedy bugger) and a large Twix for me (the food of the chocolate Gods) and back out into the drizzle highly enthused.
Half number 2 and Bootle were straight on it with a toss into the box testing the keeper who duly responded with a firm and reliable clutch. The repeat move came immediately, another chance ball chucked into the danger zone - this time the keeper dropped the globe like it was a freshly baked turd and the alleged rancid sphere was booted home and the game was back on. Instantaneously and quite remarkably another lofted ball was risked, this time the keeper punched and Lady Luck made sure that all was cleared and the ensuing fast and furious pace continued. Despite the hectic nature of the game both teams attempted to play football and all and sundry were being treated to a night of guts, desire, decent gamesmanship and all round dedication.
The frantic pace was surely going to be a factor late in the game and has Bootle cultivated a 'boom time' and repetitively hammered the home side Maine Road responded with a streaking runner creating a situation were two desperate goal line clearances helped keep the game at 4 - 3. A fascinating affair this with chance after chance transpiring and both units going for the jugular. Well wankered legs were being worked hard and after a manic Bootle push Maine Road produced a response that was smooth, silky and finalised with a killer blow - 5 goals to 3 - was that the game done? Only 8 minutes on the clock and all seemed finalised but when another hopeful lob was met by the crust of Ryan Cox for Bootle and the net duly rippled it seemed we were destined for a fitting finale. Only one goal in it, the toss of a coin would be easier to predict and although one suspected an equaliser could come, the Blues held on and took all three points from an absolutely storming game. Man of the Match, by crikey what a task! I shall opt for Road's No 2 (Joel Senior) who thrusted like a demon, stayed calm in the storm and worked his arse off at the back to keep his side ahead - good lad.
FINAL THOUGHT - These are the bare facts - The shows of Benny Hill have never provided as much excitement as what was on show tonight. Never in a million years would you get such value from a game of football as you do in the Hallmark Security League. If you spent the night with Hilda Baker on a love potion you wouldn't come away as shagged out as you would watching this game. The next time you watch either of these sides it goes without saying that you will need a change of underwear, a few packets of Valium and a good dose of Reality Tablets to bring you back to earth. Two fine teams, applause for the footballing efforts and both will do OK this season and, I reckon, be involved in many more crazy kick abouts - thank goodness for that!
Sunday 25 September 2016
SCRAPYARD FOOTY
24th September 2016 - Whitchurch Alport 1 v 1 Sandbach United - A morning leading a fungus walk at Harthill made the option of carrying on to watch Whitchurch Alport at home all the more easier. The fungi mooching was hard due to dry conditions but 56 species were eventually rattled up. I expected the football match planned to be equally hard with the two teams on show both having played an equal number of matches and having the same amount of points. Prior to the match me and my grand lady indulged in a cup of cha and some excellent chips that went down a treat after the mornings natural rummaging. Just what the bent quack ordered (as well as the usual rectal investigation - the dubious bugger).
And to the match...
Within a couple of minutes of the kick-off, and having just digested those glorious chips, Whitchurch had committed the ultimate crime of fannying about at the back and presenting the away teams striker with a gift which was neatly slotted beneath the keeper and set things up for an interesting encounter. I expected much, a really good game full of quality that reflected the high flying units on parade. What was dished up was a scrappy affair loaded with panic-stricken passes, too much air play and a lack of real quality when a major moment presented itself. As the half progressed it became a pattern of Whitchurch pushing and looking eager and with Sandbach sitting back and looking for a long ball break. A few crosses from the home side promised, but failed to deliver. Sandbach had a couple of blocked shots and huffed and puffed but excitement stayed low and maybe the the flying Wood Pigeon and the whiff of some freshly purchased chips brought more excitement to my old carcass than what was going on on the pitch. Did I mention how good the chips were here - oh heck the saliva is flowing again.
Restraint, will-power and the need to stop the gut from growing forced my hand into avoiding another chip indulgence so I headed to the other side of the ground for the second half and had a Topic with my lady and a swill of Fanta - hardly the recommendation of a dietician but neither is Non-League footy so what the hell do they know!
Half the second, Whitchurch came out with the intent to play football on the deck and for the first 20 minutes or so it worked with their No 9 eventually being allowed to twiddle and twank (please do not remove the 'T's) along the touchline, get a cross over and assist in an equaliser that was, to say the least, deserved. Whitchurch imposed themselves, Sandbach held tight but were playing it dangerous with the main release being the breathless No 9 who, although labelled 'a dirty little devil' and a 'dirty little twat', worked his arse off, got stuck in and as someone noted, was a real ruddy nuisance. For me he put himself about and did it well and he did help in getting a free kick for his side but the potshot that came was weak and without direction, a bit like a cross-eyed pisspot on his way home after a good old bender. The game trudged on, it did its best to avoid being termed a 'classic' and it became more balanced than it should have been and somehow petered out into a situation of stalemate. The ref blew and in truth, it came as a relief. Man of the Match for me today was a close call between the No 2 for Sandbach (Matty Pearson) and the chips. I am kindly giving it to the defender though who may need to pay a visit to the doctors on Monday morning to have his knackers sewn back on as he certainly worked them off today and put in a real good stint to admire. Well worked squire!
FINAL THOUGHT - If one paid a visit to Oil Drum Lane and had a wander around the yard of Steptoe and Son I would place a wager that more quality would be found than what was on show today. That is to not say the teams that played were garbage, it was just one of those matches that saw two closely matched units snub each other out. In fact, the match was in many respects toothless, just like old Albert - ooh the dirty old man! Whitchurch now just need to keep a regular team and Sandbach just need a bit more sway towards the attack mode but come the end of the season these will both be tussling around the same upper end area.
And to the match...
Within a couple of minutes of the kick-off, and having just digested those glorious chips, Whitchurch had committed the ultimate crime of fannying about at the back and presenting the away teams striker with a gift which was neatly slotted beneath the keeper and set things up for an interesting encounter. I expected much, a really good game full of quality that reflected the high flying units on parade. What was dished up was a scrappy affair loaded with panic-stricken passes, too much air play and a lack of real quality when a major moment presented itself. As the half progressed it became a pattern of Whitchurch pushing and looking eager and with Sandbach sitting back and looking for a long ball break. A few crosses from the home side promised, but failed to deliver. Sandbach had a couple of blocked shots and huffed and puffed but excitement stayed low and maybe the the flying Wood Pigeon and the whiff of some freshly purchased chips brought more excitement to my old carcass than what was going on on the pitch. Did I mention how good the chips were here - oh heck the saliva is flowing again.
Restraint, will-power and the need to stop the gut from growing forced my hand into avoiding another chip indulgence so I headed to the other side of the ground for the second half and had a Topic with my lady and a swill of Fanta - hardly the recommendation of a dietician but neither is Non-League footy so what the hell do they know!
Half the second, Whitchurch came out with the intent to play football on the deck and for the first 20 minutes or so it worked with their No 9 eventually being allowed to twiddle and twank (please do not remove the 'T's) along the touchline, get a cross over and assist in an equaliser that was, to say the least, deserved. Whitchurch imposed themselves, Sandbach held tight but were playing it dangerous with the main release being the breathless No 9 who, although labelled 'a dirty little devil' and a 'dirty little twat', worked his arse off, got stuck in and as someone noted, was a real ruddy nuisance. For me he put himself about and did it well and he did help in getting a free kick for his side but the potshot that came was weak and without direction, a bit like a cross-eyed pisspot on his way home after a good old bender. The game trudged on, it did its best to avoid being termed a 'classic' and it became more balanced than it should have been and somehow petered out into a situation of stalemate. The ref blew and in truth, it came as a relief. Man of the Match for me today was a close call between the No 2 for Sandbach (Matty Pearson) and the chips. I am kindly giving it to the defender though who may need to pay a visit to the doctors on Monday morning to have his knackers sewn back on as he certainly worked them off today and put in a real good stint to admire. Well worked squire!
FINAL THOUGHT - If one paid a visit to Oil Drum Lane and had a wander around the yard of Steptoe and Son I would place a wager that more quality would be found than what was on show today. That is to not say the teams that played were garbage, it was just one of those matches that saw two closely matched units snub each other out. In fact, the match was in many respects toothless, just like old Albert - ooh the dirty old man! Whitchurch now just need to keep a regular team and Sandbach just need a bit more sway towards the attack mode but come the end of the season these will both be tussling around the same upper end area.
Wednesday 21 September 2016
SIZE DOESN'T MATTER
20th September 2016 - Stockport Town 2 v 3 FC Oswestry Town - A day at work and home for tea and out to the footy - how ruddy exciting I must say. My good lady dropped me off at the ground and I entered, picked up a much needed cuppa and chatted to a face I had met several times before at Northwich Manchester Villa and Daisy Hill. His son was in the nets for the home side tonight, hence his presence. Nice chap and we chatted about many football items, one of which was the shutdown of the NMV team - tis a struggle for sure at this perilous and financially tight level.
To the match and the 1st half opened with Stockport straight at it and having an instantaneous effort cleared off the line after what surely must be the leagues shortest goalkeeper was left stranded. No sooner had the threat been dealt with and Oswestry produced the goods after a defence slicing pass was latched onto, duly turned into a smooth low cross and tapped in with easy aplomb - fluid indeed and oh so simple and effective. Stockport were unsettled during the opening period, were blatantly struggling to gain any adhesion and, after a defender was robbed and another fine pass was made, it was lucky for Stockport that the away teams striker shot over and didn't put them 2-0 up. Equilibrium swayed slightly over the next few minutes but a quick break, a ludicrous foul and an ensuing penalty led to a justifiable two goal cushion and one couldn't help feeling the match was slipping away from any realm of competitiveness. Oswestry were a constant threat with searching balls forcing the home side to live on a perilous knife edge - one mistake and the cut in the score line would become dangerously deeper. As is usually the case with football though the unpredictable seems to paradoxically happen more often than not and after Stockport hit a couple of driving shots one of them found the back of the net and a slight power shift was had. The Stockport squad pushed and if it wasn't for a couple of good saves by the O's No 1 then things could have easily been all square. In fact, things could have readily changed completely had not an Oswestry defender produce a stunning goal line clearance that defied the odds and lifted the excitement levels no end. A very interesting first half to say the least.
Polly put the kettle on, oh you have - another tea please - slurp, slurp.
The 2nd half and Stockport were now pushing with their No 3 urging well and forcing many an issue. The Oswestry goalie was called into action again and duly produced the save with fast reactions highly evident. The half seemed evenly matched, that is until the two No 8's pushed each other several times and the home team player lashed out with a kick and justifiably received a red card - the silly, silly sod - talk about dropping your side in the shite! As is the norm the 10 men upped their game and although lacking in the final third they took the game to their opponents and made them work damned hard to gain any sight of goal. A few mistakes though offered a glimmer of a securing winner for the away birds but over eagerness and tight off-side decisions kept the game at 2-1. At this stage I was tossing up for the games best player, Oswestry's No 1 or Stockport's No 4 (Lee O' Brien), and when this latter player popped up and got his shining bald crust on the orb of leather to hit home an equaliser I was left with a very difficult choice indeed. The game became aflame (ooh poetry) and Stockport looked likely winners and then, as though Fate was more twisted than we deemed her, a fine cross ball was struck and a sweet finish was had and...surprise, surprise (add own Cilla Black voice)...Oswestry pilfered the result. Cripes, crap, cor blimey guv'nor - and that was that! Man of the Match - yes, the away side protector of the net (George Austin), 5 solid saves, 3 of which were cracking reflex efforts that made sure his team took all 3 points back home. Good man!
FINAL THOUGHT - Size doesn't matter, so proveth the goalie tonight as did Tommy the Todge when coming up against Samson the Snake in a Penis Press-Up competition held in Timbuktoo (oh I do digress). You see, application rather that appearance is what matters and if one works hard, has an eye for the game and has certain spring loaded equipment the day can be saved and a hero had. Cracking game tonight and good to see the potentially overlooked rise above and earn the points.
To the match and the 1st half opened with Stockport straight at it and having an instantaneous effort cleared off the line after what surely must be the leagues shortest goalkeeper was left stranded. No sooner had the threat been dealt with and Oswestry produced the goods after a defence slicing pass was latched onto, duly turned into a smooth low cross and tapped in with easy aplomb - fluid indeed and oh so simple and effective. Stockport were unsettled during the opening period, were blatantly struggling to gain any adhesion and, after a defender was robbed and another fine pass was made, it was lucky for Stockport that the away teams striker shot over and didn't put them 2-0 up. Equilibrium swayed slightly over the next few minutes but a quick break, a ludicrous foul and an ensuing penalty led to a justifiable two goal cushion and one couldn't help feeling the match was slipping away from any realm of competitiveness. Oswestry were a constant threat with searching balls forcing the home side to live on a perilous knife edge - one mistake and the cut in the score line would become dangerously deeper. As is usually the case with football though the unpredictable seems to paradoxically happen more often than not and after Stockport hit a couple of driving shots one of them found the back of the net and a slight power shift was had. The Stockport squad pushed and if it wasn't for a couple of good saves by the O's No 1 then things could have easily been all square. In fact, things could have readily changed completely had not an Oswestry defender produce a stunning goal line clearance that defied the odds and lifted the excitement levels no end. A very interesting first half to say the least.
Polly put the kettle on, oh you have - another tea please - slurp, slurp.
The 2nd half and Stockport were now pushing with their No 3 urging well and forcing many an issue. The Oswestry goalie was called into action again and duly produced the save with fast reactions highly evident. The half seemed evenly matched, that is until the two No 8's pushed each other several times and the home team player lashed out with a kick and justifiably received a red card - the silly, silly sod - talk about dropping your side in the shite! As is the norm the 10 men upped their game and although lacking in the final third they took the game to their opponents and made them work damned hard to gain any sight of goal. A few mistakes though offered a glimmer of a securing winner for the away birds but over eagerness and tight off-side decisions kept the game at 2-1. At this stage I was tossing up for the games best player, Oswestry's No 1 or Stockport's No 4 (Lee O' Brien), and when this latter player popped up and got his shining bald crust on the orb of leather to hit home an equaliser I was left with a very difficult choice indeed. The game became aflame (ooh poetry) and Stockport looked likely winners and then, as though Fate was more twisted than we deemed her, a fine cross ball was struck and a sweet finish was had and...surprise, surprise (add own Cilla Black voice)...Oswestry pilfered the result. Cripes, crap, cor blimey guv'nor - and that was that! Man of the Match - yes, the away side protector of the net (George Austin), 5 solid saves, 3 of which were cracking reflex efforts that made sure his team took all 3 points back home. Good man!
FINAL THOUGHT - Size doesn't matter, so proveth the goalie tonight as did Tommy the Todge when coming up against Samson the Snake in a Penis Press-Up competition held in Timbuktoo (oh I do digress). You see, application rather that appearance is what matters and if one works hard, has an eye for the game and has certain spring loaded equipment the day can be saved and a hero had. Cracking game tonight and good to see the potentially overlooked rise above and earn the points.
Monday 19 September 2016
THE ART OF WASTE
17th September 2016 - Prestwich Heys 1 v 2 Alsager Town - A morn spent stretching knackered ankles, visiting an horticultural center to meet a lovely lady and do a spot of insect watching and then to me ma's to drop off her birthday flowers. Tis all go and with a 4 band gig straight after the footy I was contemplating more time spent in the sin bin of 'Shaggedoutsville' - what a shithole it is too! My grand wife and myself arrived at the sun-soaked ground in good time, purchased a drink each and headed to the far side of the pitch and absorbed the solar delights, chitted and chatted and watched the two teams loosen up. We had a Topic Bar each too - bonus. Oh and then...
Came the footy - a match I was struggling to predict the result of as both teams were on half decent form and looked set to be involved in one of those soccerised chess matches - ooh those bashed bishops and flitting queens!
The 1st half and a wary prodding and poking episode ensued (now, now ya dirty minded devils) with the opening main chance going to the Heys as a carving pass was latched onto and duly lobbed over the keeper and, alas, the crossbar! A few early fouls were committed and the tight game stayed as such with the home team having more threat and seeming odds to break the deadlock. Alsager though are firm in defence and kept their shape well and with good discipline and industrialism forced a few free kicks and half chances, one incident which resulted in the linesman being branded as 'Brain Dead' - ooh and he looked so rotund and healthy. The chess match continued and looked set to turn stale until Alsager tossed about at the rear and let a soft header be nudged home and thus alter the whole dynamics of the game. Alsager surged back and won a free kick which was wasted and pounced upon. A breakaway swiftly came, the home teams No 10 raced away, the score line ached to be increased but full marks to the oppositions net man for racing off his line and getting proceedings blocked. Within minutes the same attacker had another chance but the eyes went wide, the head filled with steaming excitement and the ball was flashed over into the Heavens above - would that be a moment to regret? The game continued and after a confession from the Prestwich number 3 regarding his minuscule nob the game became tetchy and the rubicund and heavily perspiring referee became the brunt of both managers wound up temperaments. No doubt the man in blacks' fan club would be diminishing after this one and all down to one or two eccentric decisions. It ain't easy though and I wouldn't trade places with him for any amount of brass.
Peep, peep - half over - time to a piddle, a hot dog and some tea. Choice!
Part two and the same vein was struck and Prestwich Heys looked to be moving in for the kill with a few good attacks blunted by a weak finish and an offside decision. The liner was at the end of the abuse again much to the referee's relief I expect. Heys held the upper hand but lacked serious frontline quality and that oh so crucial killer pass. Alsager were showing little but, like a mouthful of sun dried lettuce, remained hard to break down. I didn't hold much hope for another goal but The Bullets started to squeeze back in and after a run down the wing resulted in the ball being crossed, dummied and slapped over the warning signs were there for the Heys lads not to switch off. I still would have had my money on a home victory so when Alsager pulled level I was as shocked as anyone. Wasted possession and chances were the cause of the turnaround and when the same method was used for the away side to go 2-1 up it was all to the detriment of the now, floundering home squad. Frustration took hold, the manager hung his head at the lack of options and general desire and when the full time shrill came one couldn't help feeling that Alsager were given a gift here even though they worked hard and hung in like desperate dogs. For me Man of the Match was the Alsager No 3 (Kyle Stubbs), an accomplished performance at the player's own pace - never easy but done well today.
FINAL THOUGHT - Prestwich Heys need to learn from the Transylvanian Terror, namely Count Dracula who, whenever he gets the chance, goes for the jugular and drains the life out of his vulnerable victims. Alsager however just need to remember Im-Ho-Tep, the Egyptian Mummy whom moves at a steady pace and always keeps things well wrapped up. It should keep them in good stead for the long season ahead!
Came the footy - a match I was struggling to predict the result of as both teams were on half decent form and looked set to be involved in one of those soccerised chess matches - ooh those bashed bishops and flitting queens!
The 1st half and a wary prodding and poking episode ensued (now, now ya dirty minded devils) with the opening main chance going to the Heys as a carving pass was latched onto and duly lobbed over the keeper and, alas, the crossbar! A few early fouls were committed and the tight game stayed as such with the home team having more threat and seeming odds to break the deadlock. Alsager though are firm in defence and kept their shape well and with good discipline and industrialism forced a few free kicks and half chances, one incident which resulted in the linesman being branded as 'Brain Dead' - ooh and he looked so rotund and healthy. The chess match continued and looked set to turn stale until Alsager tossed about at the rear and let a soft header be nudged home and thus alter the whole dynamics of the game. Alsager surged back and won a free kick which was wasted and pounced upon. A breakaway swiftly came, the home teams No 10 raced away, the score line ached to be increased but full marks to the oppositions net man for racing off his line and getting proceedings blocked. Within minutes the same attacker had another chance but the eyes went wide, the head filled with steaming excitement and the ball was flashed over into the Heavens above - would that be a moment to regret? The game continued and after a confession from the Prestwich number 3 regarding his minuscule nob the game became tetchy and the rubicund and heavily perspiring referee became the brunt of both managers wound up temperaments. No doubt the man in blacks' fan club would be diminishing after this one and all down to one or two eccentric decisions. It ain't easy though and I wouldn't trade places with him for any amount of brass.
Peep, peep - half over - time to a piddle, a hot dog and some tea. Choice!
Part two and the same vein was struck and Prestwich Heys looked to be moving in for the kill with a few good attacks blunted by a weak finish and an offside decision. The liner was at the end of the abuse again much to the referee's relief I expect. Heys held the upper hand but lacked serious frontline quality and that oh so crucial killer pass. Alsager were showing little but, like a mouthful of sun dried lettuce, remained hard to break down. I didn't hold much hope for another goal but The Bullets started to squeeze back in and after a run down the wing resulted in the ball being crossed, dummied and slapped over the warning signs were there for the Heys lads not to switch off. I still would have had my money on a home victory so when Alsager pulled level I was as shocked as anyone. Wasted possession and chances were the cause of the turnaround and when the same method was used for the away side to go 2-1 up it was all to the detriment of the now, floundering home squad. Frustration took hold, the manager hung his head at the lack of options and general desire and when the full time shrill came one couldn't help feeling that Alsager were given a gift here even though they worked hard and hung in like desperate dogs. For me Man of the Match was the Alsager No 3 (Kyle Stubbs), an accomplished performance at the player's own pace - never easy but done well today.
FINAL THOUGHT - Prestwich Heys need to learn from the Transylvanian Terror, namely Count Dracula who, whenever he gets the chance, goes for the jugular and drains the life out of his vulnerable victims. Alsager however just need to remember Im-Ho-Tep, the Egyptian Mummy whom moves at a steady pace and always keeps things well wrapped up. It should keep them in good stead for the long season ahead!
Thursday 15 September 2016
LIVELY LIVER BIRDS FLYING HIGH
14th September 2016 - Cheadle Town 1 v 5 City of Liverpool FC - A day off work and 60 species of fungi identified from a local park. I finished reading my latest book 'Doctor At Sea' by Richard Gordon and had a good chinwag with my lasses - not a bad day at all. A good tea and off to the footy to finish the day with the vibes of 'Blank Generation' by Richard Hell filling the car on the way down. Warm and clammy like Wayne Rooney's palms at the mention of a pay increase the temperature looked like the least of Cheadle Towns worries tonight ahead of what was looking like a very tough match indeed. One hoped that The Boys would produce some of the grit they readily exhibit and claw out a result of some positivity. Alas I was a trifle optimistic and as it transpired...
Toe on ball, the kick off came. The opening period saw the team of Liverpool go straight for the jugular and an opening brace of long shots set the stall out and had Cheadle right on the back foot. Despite the initial flow Cheadle should have been in front but fluffed the chance and let the away team off the rusted hook and continue their long ball fishing. It was such a ball that led to the opening goal which was duly finished with aplomb by a seemingly cool striker on form. No sooner had Cheadle settled than the Liverpool No 11 rifled home a cracker and put the visitors 2 goals to the good (or bad dependent on where your loyalties are found). Again and again the tidal wave came and yet it was the homesters who had a golden opportunity go to waste after the keeper was lobbed and left stranded but whom miraculously got back just in time to block the ball on the line from the No 10's follow up. The Scouse machine maintained the upper hand but Cheadle hung on in there however, like the aging body of Neville Southall, the game eventually lost something of its shape, much to the assistance, and relief, of the lads in green. Unfortunately the lull didn't last and after a goal line clearance and a gasp from the fans that busy bee and on the mark No 11 popped up again and fired in his second of the night - and bloody well deserved it was. Half time was announced - 3-0 seemed kind to the Cheadle Boys - by heck, it was going to be a long night for em'.
A sit on me arse and a read of a book on nettles - lovely plants they are.
Half the second and ye Cheadle Town of defiant mode did pusheth forth. Things may have turned the uncertain corner, hope sprang eternal...until... a low driving pass razored through the defence and was tapped home to increase the Liverpool lead and put the game well and truly to bed (without the snooze factor). Cheadle were now pulled this way and that and became a ragged and somewhat forlorn unit and when the industrious No 10 lunged and mistimed a tackle the red card was surely the final insult on a night of hard, unrewarding labour. Personally I thought the punishment too harsh and saw no vindictiveness in the offence - just a tired carcass mis-judging the pace of the ball. Another goal now seemed inevitable and up stepped that No 11 again and netted his hat-trick from a situation he should never have been allowed to shoot from. Liverpool now switched off, Cheadle struck the bar and actually stole a goal after the away teams No 1 completely missed an innocent looking ball and allowed the score-line to be more generous than it should have been. Two injuries saw Cheadle eventually go down to 8 men and that, after the last huffs and puffs, was that - two teams both going in opposite directions - one looking smooth and silky, the other still waiting to get the season started. Who knows what the end of the season will bring, but I reckon the City of Liverpool FC will by vying for top spot and making merry hell, for many teams, along the way.
Man of the Match - surprise, surprise tis that ruddy No 11 again (Thomas Peterson) who was one of several players that could have been chosen from a team of absolute quality. It would be rude though to ignore the exploits of this 3 goal maestro. Well played dude!
FINAL THOUGHT - Unlike a man with a very weakened bladder it was the art of passing that was on show tonight and exhibited that if a team sticks to a formula, knows each other inside out and has an ability to nail many a long ball then, in this league at least, they are destined to push for the top. Perhaps the City of Liverpool are the best team I have seen this year, certainly in Division 1 at the very least. They certainly gave an excellent account of themselves tonight and are a team I will be keeping a peeper on throughout the developing season.
.
Toe on ball, the kick off came. The opening period saw the team of Liverpool go straight for the jugular and an opening brace of long shots set the stall out and had Cheadle right on the back foot. Despite the initial flow Cheadle should have been in front but fluffed the chance and let the away team off the rusted hook and continue their long ball fishing. It was such a ball that led to the opening goal which was duly finished with aplomb by a seemingly cool striker on form. No sooner had Cheadle settled than the Liverpool No 11 rifled home a cracker and put the visitors 2 goals to the good (or bad dependent on where your loyalties are found). Again and again the tidal wave came and yet it was the homesters who had a golden opportunity go to waste after the keeper was lobbed and left stranded but whom miraculously got back just in time to block the ball on the line from the No 10's follow up. The Scouse machine maintained the upper hand but Cheadle hung on in there however, like the aging body of Neville Southall, the game eventually lost something of its shape, much to the assistance, and relief, of the lads in green. Unfortunately the lull didn't last and after a goal line clearance and a gasp from the fans that busy bee and on the mark No 11 popped up again and fired in his second of the night - and bloody well deserved it was. Half time was announced - 3-0 seemed kind to the Cheadle Boys - by heck, it was going to be a long night for em'.
A sit on me arse and a read of a book on nettles - lovely plants they are.
Half the second and ye Cheadle Town of defiant mode did pusheth forth. Things may have turned the uncertain corner, hope sprang eternal...until... a low driving pass razored through the defence and was tapped home to increase the Liverpool lead and put the game well and truly to bed (without the snooze factor). Cheadle were now pulled this way and that and became a ragged and somewhat forlorn unit and when the industrious No 10 lunged and mistimed a tackle the red card was surely the final insult on a night of hard, unrewarding labour. Personally I thought the punishment too harsh and saw no vindictiveness in the offence - just a tired carcass mis-judging the pace of the ball. Another goal now seemed inevitable and up stepped that No 11 again and netted his hat-trick from a situation he should never have been allowed to shoot from. Liverpool now switched off, Cheadle struck the bar and actually stole a goal after the away teams No 1 completely missed an innocent looking ball and allowed the score-line to be more generous than it should have been. Two injuries saw Cheadle eventually go down to 8 men and that, after the last huffs and puffs, was that - two teams both going in opposite directions - one looking smooth and silky, the other still waiting to get the season started. Who knows what the end of the season will bring, but I reckon the City of Liverpool FC will by vying for top spot and making merry hell, for many teams, along the way.
Man of the Match - surprise, surprise tis that ruddy No 11 again (Thomas Peterson) who was one of several players that could have been chosen from a team of absolute quality. It would be rude though to ignore the exploits of this 3 goal maestro. Well played dude!
FINAL THOUGHT - Unlike a man with a very weakened bladder it was the art of passing that was on show tonight and exhibited that if a team sticks to a formula, knows each other inside out and has an ability to nail many a long ball then, in this league at least, they are destined to push for the top. Perhaps the City of Liverpool are the best team I have seen this year, certainly in Division 1 at the very least. They certainly gave an excellent account of themselves tonight and are a team I will be keeping a peeper on throughout the developing season.
.
Tuesday 13 September 2016
NEVER SAY DIE...UNTIL...
12th September 2016 - Maine Road 2 v 3 Runcorn Town - A fine late summer football evening with the smell of sweet grass, linament and expectation all floating on the luxurious balmy air. Two teams were ready to do battle tonight, two teams I am more than familiar with and causing me to come up with a pre-match prediction of a 2 - 2 draw. On paper it seemed a close encounter and with a few good players on show I had high levels of anticipation for a minor classic.
The 1st half got underway and it was immediately apparent that Runcorn's game plan was to work ruddy hard, hassle the opposition and give them no time to settle. It worked a treat and Maine Road never really got a hold of the game until late in the first period when they found themselves one down after Runcorn's high energy and waspish bustling led to an error at the back and a smash and grab lead was had. In truth the home team should have been level shortly after when a one on one situation saw the striker hit the ball straight at the well-spread keeper thus blowing the chance of getting the game re-balanced. Fireworks lit up the sky in the background, my good comrade Ged Murder turned up (always a pleasure) and the game settled down with The Road having another shot saved and the away team still working hard and keeping their somewhat precarious advantage. Tis all grand stuff for the onlooker.
Time for a cup of tea methinks and I brought me old mucka a pie to keep him chipper and on form (greedy bugger he is). A good chat was had about recent footy predictions, upcoming gigs and the nasty nobrots in the music scene - oh yes.
Out in the balmy air and onto the opposite side of the ground with the away fans to watch the game from a fresh perspective. Normal service resumed and as Runcorn went straight at it a Tom Selleck look-a-like in the crowd looked on with an investigators eye and seemed to be obsessed with the wasteground at the back of the nets - maybe a murder scene methinks. Oops I digress, darn those tablets. To the game and Runcorn pressed but Maine Road were easing back in and I wondered if this was the beginning of a gallant comeback? Alas a long ball from Runcorn's rear guard banished thoughts of a home side resurgence when the frontman latched on and was brought down in a somewhat crude manner. A penalty was given, the decision highly debatable but a minute or so later it didn't matter as the ball was squeezed beneath the keeper (unlucky) and Runcorn were two up and looking to have put the game to bed. But this is non-league footy, formalities are rare runts and after a fine streaking run by the Runcorn winger that led to a cross and a touch that was cleared off the line what shock we all suffered when Maine Road tootled down the other end and only bloody well scored - well that wasn't scripted that's for sure. To add insult to Runcorn's injured pride Maine Road then snatched another with a long range ball floated into the net and bringing the game into something akin to lunacy. My initial 2 -2 prediction was on the mark, it looked set to end all square until...gasp, shock, horror (and a loosening of the bowels), Runcorn pinched one last goal via workhorse Craig Cairnes and, as it transpired, sealed victory 4 minutes before the final peep. Maine Road pushed and the linesman was informed that he was 'total wank' and the game ended with all punters in a state of disbelief - wow, what a finish!
Man of the Match for me was Runcorn's No 7 (Joseph Holt) who epitomised his teams work ethic and all round eager beaver attitude. In truth I haven't seen a team work this hard for quite a while and they really did upset the home teams applecart with their constant mither and non-stop vigor - bloody good effort dudes.
FINAL THOUGHT - Imagine the closing credits of Benny Hill. Take all speeded up participants and inject with a steroid and amphetamine based concoction. Fill all persons underpants with nettles and busy anal wasps and you will get something close to envisioning the activity levels of the Runcorn Town players tonight. For extra effect add own theme music - 'Flight of the Bumble Bee by Rimsky-Korsakov - phew.
The 1st half got underway and it was immediately apparent that Runcorn's game plan was to work ruddy hard, hassle the opposition and give them no time to settle. It worked a treat and Maine Road never really got a hold of the game until late in the first period when they found themselves one down after Runcorn's high energy and waspish bustling led to an error at the back and a smash and grab lead was had. In truth the home team should have been level shortly after when a one on one situation saw the striker hit the ball straight at the well-spread keeper thus blowing the chance of getting the game re-balanced. Fireworks lit up the sky in the background, my good comrade Ged Murder turned up (always a pleasure) and the game settled down with The Road having another shot saved and the away team still working hard and keeping their somewhat precarious advantage. Tis all grand stuff for the onlooker.
Time for a cup of tea methinks and I brought me old mucka a pie to keep him chipper and on form (greedy bugger he is). A good chat was had about recent footy predictions, upcoming gigs and the nasty nobrots in the music scene - oh yes.
Out in the balmy air and onto the opposite side of the ground with the away fans to watch the game from a fresh perspective. Normal service resumed and as Runcorn went straight at it a Tom Selleck look-a-like in the crowd looked on with an investigators eye and seemed to be obsessed with the wasteground at the back of the nets - maybe a murder scene methinks. Oops I digress, darn those tablets. To the game and Runcorn pressed but Maine Road were easing back in and I wondered if this was the beginning of a gallant comeback? Alas a long ball from Runcorn's rear guard banished thoughts of a home side resurgence when the frontman latched on and was brought down in a somewhat crude manner. A penalty was given, the decision highly debatable but a minute or so later it didn't matter as the ball was squeezed beneath the keeper (unlucky) and Runcorn were two up and looking to have put the game to bed. But this is non-league footy, formalities are rare runts and after a fine streaking run by the Runcorn winger that led to a cross and a touch that was cleared off the line what shock we all suffered when Maine Road tootled down the other end and only bloody well scored - well that wasn't scripted that's for sure. To add insult to Runcorn's injured pride Maine Road then snatched another with a long range ball floated into the net and bringing the game into something akin to lunacy. My initial 2 -2 prediction was on the mark, it looked set to end all square until...gasp, shock, horror (and a loosening of the bowels), Runcorn pinched one last goal via workhorse Craig Cairnes and, as it transpired, sealed victory 4 minutes before the final peep. Maine Road pushed and the linesman was informed that he was 'total wank' and the game ended with all punters in a state of disbelief - wow, what a finish!
Man of the Match for me was Runcorn's No 7 (Joseph Holt) who epitomised his teams work ethic and all round eager beaver attitude. In truth I haven't seen a team work this hard for quite a while and they really did upset the home teams applecart with their constant mither and non-stop vigor - bloody good effort dudes.
FINAL THOUGHT - Imagine the closing credits of Benny Hill. Take all speeded up participants and inject with a steroid and amphetamine based concoction. Fill all persons underpants with nettles and busy anal wasps and you will get something close to envisioning the activity levels of the Runcorn Town players tonight. For extra effect add own theme music - 'Flight of the Bumble Bee by Rimsky-Korsakov - phew.
Saturday 10 September 2016
THE LINNETS GO HOME CHIRPING
10th September 2016 - Abbey Hey 0 v 1 Runcorn Linnets - After leading a 4 hour fungal foray in Warrington I just made it to this match with a few minutes spare to chew a few yoghurt covered raisins and swill some pineapple juice - lovely. The weather was bang on the mark and Runcorn had dragged a few fans up this end to see this early season encounter between 2 highly capable sides.
Kick off and the early bustle came and throughout the hectic mania one couldn't help feeling Runcorn always had a bigger piece of the playing cake then their opponents. It may have been only a few crumbs more but one could just sense the slight imbalance in the initial cut. Having said that, the first real chance came to Abbey Hey whom, after one of the players made a cutting run and was clumsily brought down just outside the box, saw them have a free kick smartly saved and the opposing committer of the crime get away with a yellow card only. Apparently the rules have altered and the 'last man instant red card' law no longer applies. A few more chances came both ways, more heaving and hollering ensued accompanied by the usual touchline bigotry, bent views and one-sided opinions. The stand out workhorses during the opening period of this clean and hard fought affair was the Abbey Hey No 7 and the cute trickster for Runcorn, the No 10 (Paul Shanley). Both handfuls in their own separate ways. All square at the interval was justice done and I contemplated witnessing one of those rare matches that ends in a bugger all draw - ooh heck!
A browse through a fungus book, a scratch of me arse, a rest of my aching legs and...peep, peep, the referee demanded another 45 minutes of attention.
Abbey Hey came out fizzing and looking to grab the game by the short and curlies. A shot was cleared off the line after the goalkeeper just took enough oomph off the ball and another quick shot just flew wide. The no-goal scenario was looking odds on until up stepped the Captain for Abbey Hey and a weak push of the ball that led to The Linnets gaining posession and hitting home the opening goal. One error, one punishing occurrence - would that be the difference come 90 minutes? From here Runcorn started to turn a tight screw and with the fans sensing another net rippler their oral input rose. The Abbey Hey No 3 got booked for dissent, a few players looked frustrated and the away team pushed on. Next moment a shout for a penalty looked convincing enough, that is until the lines-man ruled for offside whereupon he was duly labelled the definitive 'stupid twat'. Ooh its a tough life waving a flag. Numerous dubious decisions followed, Abbey Hey fought back well and 2 strikes brought 2 vital saves from the away teams No 1 which, in all honesty, saved the feathers on the arse of the Linnets rear. An equaliser couldn't be ruled out but Runcorn are no mugs and saw this one out to sneak a win they will be glad to get. I must give the Man of the Match to Runcorn's Goalie (Tom Hunt), when required he did what he should do and that is all one can expect.
FINAL THOUGHT - Like the buttocks of Fatima Whitbread this match is best described as tough and tight. Both halves were balanced well with plenty of meat on show but it was one faux pas that decided the end result and that my dear non-league pervert, is how the knicker elastic sometimes twangs! I tipped Runcorn to win the league prior to the season, they are now on a roll - be warned. Abbey Hey had several good players on the pitch today and are a team I will check out several times more before the close of the season.
Kick off and the early bustle came and throughout the hectic mania one couldn't help feeling Runcorn always had a bigger piece of the playing cake then their opponents. It may have been only a few crumbs more but one could just sense the slight imbalance in the initial cut. Having said that, the first real chance came to Abbey Hey whom, after one of the players made a cutting run and was clumsily brought down just outside the box, saw them have a free kick smartly saved and the opposing committer of the crime get away with a yellow card only. Apparently the rules have altered and the 'last man instant red card' law no longer applies. A few more chances came both ways, more heaving and hollering ensued accompanied by the usual touchline bigotry, bent views and one-sided opinions. The stand out workhorses during the opening period of this clean and hard fought affair was the Abbey Hey No 7 and the cute trickster for Runcorn, the No 10 (Paul Shanley). Both handfuls in their own separate ways. All square at the interval was justice done and I contemplated witnessing one of those rare matches that ends in a bugger all draw - ooh heck!
A browse through a fungus book, a scratch of me arse, a rest of my aching legs and...peep, peep, the referee demanded another 45 minutes of attention.
Abbey Hey came out fizzing and looking to grab the game by the short and curlies. A shot was cleared off the line after the goalkeeper just took enough oomph off the ball and another quick shot just flew wide. The no-goal scenario was looking odds on until up stepped the Captain for Abbey Hey and a weak push of the ball that led to The Linnets gaining posession and hitting home the opening goal. One error, one punishing occurrence - would that be the difference come 90 minutes? From here Runcorn started to turn a tight screw and with the fans sensing another net rippler their oral input rose. The Abbey Hey No 3 got booked for dissent, a few players looked frustrated and the away team pushed on. Next moment a shout for a penalty looked convincing enough, that is until the lines-man ruled for offside whereupon he was duly labelled the definitive 'stupid twat'. Ooh its a tough life waving a flag. Numerous dubious decisions followed, Abbey Hey fought back well and 2 strikes brought 2 vital saves from the away teams No 1 which, in all honesty, saved the feathers on the arse of the Linnets rear. An equaliser couldn't be ruled out but Runcorn are no mugs and saw this one out to sneak a win they will be glad to get. I must give the Man of the Match to Runcorn's Goalie (Tom Hunt), when required he did what he should do and that is all one can expect.
FINAL THOUGHT - Like the buttocks of Fatima Whitbread this match is best described as tough and tight. Both halves were balanced well with plenty of meat on show but it was one faux pas that decided the end result and that my dear non-league pervert, is how the knicker elastic sometimes twangs! I tipped Runcorn to win the league prior to the season, they are now on a roll - be warned. Abbey Hey had several good players on the pitch today and are a team I will check out several times more before the close of the season.
Thursday 8 September 2016
THE UNEXPLAINED
8th September 2016 - Cheadle Town 1 v 2 Sandbach Utd - Cheadle Town are the side I go watching the most due to them being local and convenient. They are the side that frustrate me the most too, as many times in a season they seem to have the upper hand in a match, work their knackers off like fervent ants on acid and yet somehow conjure up a defeat from the most unlikeliest of circumstances - by heck they are almost masters of the art.
I was dropped off at the match tonight with my mate Tim, whom had no mid-week Man City match and decided to join me for some 'proper' football and not the affected version those overpaid tossers play at the top of the pyramid (good lad). He knows his footy onions at all levels though and over the years has done more than his bit for the lower end game so I can't moan about his Mancunian obsession (but I still do ha, ha). We got a beer apiece, took up our positions in the stands and awaited the first half whilst chatting about a variety of subjects as per - Planet of the Apes, politics, streaking, butterflies, travelling, Peter 'burnt out at 21' Barnes and such bollocks. Nowt wrong with a natter.
The match got underway on the dot and after the initial settling in period Sandbach gradually gained the upper boot with their attempts to play football on the deck and cultivate particular openings. Cheadle harried and hustled and just lacked a quality touch and an all round calmness much to the irritation of the yelling gaffer (poor bugger must be on more nerve pills than Salman Rushdie was in the 80's). Gradually though Cheadles work began to pay off and they took the game to the away team and seemed ready to create a definite chance - that is of course until they went 1 down on the 41st minute after a predictable breakaway and one on one situation that did the business. Now how the hell did they manage that? It was a good finish though and was much needed in a game that was becoming something of a stalemate. The final minutes were undramatic and a lot of head scratching by the home fans was had.
Tea, chinwagging and a leak - tis a hard life.
Segment 2 struck off and no sooner had the half-time talk sunk into the noggins of the Cheadle boys than they went two down after the goalie parried an undefendable cross only to land conveniently for the nut of an extra attacker to cutely squeeze home. Two down, the fight was on. As is the case Cheadle dig deep, they have a good spirit when their backs are against the vandalised wall and the game was upped and swayed ever so slightly. Sandbach did get the ball in the net twice more but both goals were disallowed and the game developed a pattern that saw the majority of play take place in the leading sides half. Sandbach slowly dropped deeper and built a rod for their own backs and after a kerfuffle in the box and an 89th minute goal was dragged back one did wonder if the Harry Houdini's of Division One would get out of another tight spot. Alas the time ticked by and the referee was in no mood to extend the game and as the whistle blew it was a case of too little too late.
A good game, Sandbach are a tidy team and if injected with a bit of pace when counter-attacking will be a real force to not take lightly. Man of the Match - well, for sheer control, an eye for spreading the play and one or two determined runs I reckon the No 6 (Tommy Watkin) for Sandbach deserves the nod.
FINAL THOUGHT - How Cheadle lose some of their games is most probably more difficult to explain than the sex life of The Abominable Snowman, although I have heard the creature from the frozen wastes does get lucky sometimes. I think Cheadle will be OK though, a good hard-slogging side who get stuck in and grind out many decent results. As for Sandbach, well they are still a commodity unknown in some respects but on this evidence look more than capable at this level. I shall have to pay them a visit (any excuse)!
I was dropped off at the match tonight with my mate Tim, whom had no mid-week Man City match and decided to join me for some 'proper' football and not the affected version those overpaid tossers play at the top of the pyramid (good lad). He knows his footy onions at all levels though and over the years has done more than his bit for the lower end game so I can't moan about his Mancunian obsession (but I still do ha, ha). We got a beer apiece, took up our positions in the stands and awaited the first half whilst chatting about a variety of subjects as per - Planet of the Apes, politics, streaking, butterflies, travelling, Peter 'burnt out at 21' Barnes and such bollocks. Nowt wrong with a natter.
The match got underway on the dot and after the initial settling in period Sandbach gradually gained the upper boot with their attempts to play football on the deck and cultivate particular openings. Cheadle harried and hustled and just lacked a quality touch and an all round calmness much to the irritation of the yelling gaffer (poor bugger must be on more nerve pills than Salman Rushdie was in the 80's). Gradually though Cheadles work began to pay off and they took the game to the away team and seemed ready to create a definite chance - that is of course until they went 1 down on the 41st minute after a predictable breakaway and one on one situation that did the business. Now how the hell did they manage that? It was a good finish though and was much needed in a game that was becoming something of a stalemate. The final minutes were undramatic and a lot of head scratching by the home fans was had.
Tea, chinwagging and a leak - tis a hard life.
Segment 2 struck off and no sooner had the half-time talk sunk into the noggins of the Cheadle boys than they went two down after the goalie parried an undefendable cross only to land conveniently for the nut of an extra attacker to cutely squeeze home. Two down, the fight was on. As is the case Cheadle dig deep, they have a good spirit when their backs are against the vandalised wall and the game was upped and swayed ever so slightly. Sandbach did get the ball in the net twice more but both goals were disallowed and the game developed a pattern that saw the majority of play take place in the leading sides half. Sandbach slowly dropped deeper and built a rod for their own backs and after a kerfuffle in the box and an 89th minute goal was dragged back one did wonder if the Harry Houdini's of Division One would get out of another tight spot. Alas the time ticked by and the referee was in no mood to extend the game and as the whistle blew it was a case of too little too late.
A good game, Sandbach are a tidy team and if injected with a bit of pace when counter-attacking will be a real force to not take lightly. Man of the Match - well, for sheer control, an eye for spreading the play and one or two determined runs I reckon the No 6 (Tommy Watkin) for Sandbach deserves the nod.
FINAL THOUGHT - How Cheadle lose some of their games is most probably more difficult to explain than the sex life of The Abominable Snowman, although I have heard the creature from the frozen wastes does get lucky sometimes. I think Cheadle will be OK though, a good hard-slogging side who get stuck in and grind out many decent results. As for Sandbach, well they are still a commodity unknown in some respects but on this evidence look more than capable at this level. I shall have to pay them a visit (any excuse)!
Wednesday 7 September 2016
GOING WEST
6th September 2016 - West Didsbury and Chorlton 4 v 1 Runcorn Town - A wonderful balmy night for watching footy and after the routine cup of tea was purchased I relaxed at pitch side and watched the player's warm-up and go through the usual motions prior to the kick-off.
7.45pm came, the two teams set about the task ahead and during the opening session both parties beavered away like insects on amphetamines but produced little in the way of composure. A few Runcorn players seemed immediately on a downer (which never helps the cause) and let minor frustrations get the better of them, with a couple of silly tantrums doing little for morale. The WD crew were fizzing away and only after the opening goal did they truly settle although this was a night of fast, edgy play and one that desperately needed the odd settled touch, just like the left back for the home side provided, cool and collected stuff and never over-elaborate. The first goal was followed up by a sugary strike that glided with power into the Runcorn net and from here on in West Didsbury had the upper hand until the half time whistle blew. Talking of whistles...
My own whistle was wetted, a slurp and a scribble was had and I awaited the second half believing the match was closer than the 2-0 scoreline suggested.
The referee rattled his oral pea (sexy sod), the second half was underway and Runcorn came out with greater industry and attempted to grab the game by the gonads and squeeze out something approaching a positive result. The temperaments flared, composure was a rare commodity and after all the bluster the away side created it was a travesty that they conceded another goal, albeit a mis-hit trickler that wormed into the bottom corner of the awaiting net. Ah Mother Injustice thy be a cruel old mare! Next highlight, and quote of the match came from the Runcorn No 2, whom, after seeing his side go 3-0 down and whilst waiting for the ball to be retrieved for a throw-in said to me 'Fuck, I am sick of this, I'm 34 you know, I reckon I'll become a goalie' ha, ha. Best not mate, even though your side lost you had a decent game and worked up a good sweat. Just enjoy and try your best dude. Runcorn did pull a goal back (the best of the night) and well deserved it was both for the team and the player Craig Cairns who should be proud of the effort thrown in. Alas though, the game was up, West Didsbury gained another notch after an undefendable cross was nutted home and the scoreline of 4-1 remained set in stone for all the home fans to gloat over. Oh nearly forgot, Man of the Match - No 3 for the home chaps, (Raymond Botchey) - as cool as the refrigerated cucumber and despite the name, a botch-free game.
FINAL THOUGHT - The scoreline was a liar tonight and the teams here are best likened to the aging bristols of Babs Windsor - at this stage they are closer together than what you think but further on down the line one will rise higher than the other and the gap in the cleavage will grow. Having said this I reckon it will be a close call come season end but West Didsbury look well drilled and, at this point, seem to have more potential in the pap.
7.45pm came, the two teams set about the task ahead and during the opening session both parties beavered away like insects on amphetamines but produced little in the way of composure. A few Runcorn players seemed immediately on a downer (which never helps the cause) and let minor frustrations get the better of them, with a couple of silly tantrums doing little for morale. The WD crew were fizzing away and only after the opening goal did they truly settle although this was a night of fast, edgy play and one that desperately needed the odd settled touch, just like the left back for the home side provided, cool and collected stuff and never over-elaborate. The first goal was followed up by a sugary strike that glided with power into the Runcorn net and from here on in West Didsbury had the upper hand until the half time whistle blew. Talking of whistles...
My own whistle was wetted, a slurp and a scribble was had and I awaited the second half believing the match was closer than the 2-0 scoreline suggested.
The referee rattled his oral pea (sexy sod), the second half was underway and Runcorn came out with greater industry and attempted to grab the game by the gonads and squeeze out something approaching a positive result. The temperaments flared, composure was a rare commodity and after all the bluster the away side created it was a travesty that they conceded another goal, albeit a mis-hit trickler that wormed into the bottom corner of the awaiting net. Ah Mother Injustice thy be a cruel old mare! Next highlight, and quote of the match came from the Runcorn No 2, whom, after seeing his side go 3-0 down and whilst waiting for the ball to be retrieved for a throw-in said to me 'Fuck, I am sick of this, I'm 34 you know, I reckon I'll become a goalie' ha, ha. Best not mate, even though your side lost you had a decent game and worked up a good sweat. Just enjoy and try your best dude. Runcorn did pull a goal back (the best of the night) and well deserved it was both for the team and the player Craig Cairns who should be proud of the effort thrown in. Alas though, the game was up, West Didsbury gained another notch after an undefendable cross was nutted home and the scoreline of 4-1 remained set in stone for all the home fans to gloat over. Oh nearly forgot, Man of the Match - No 3 for the home chaps, (Raymond Botchey) - as cool as the refrigerated cucumber and despite the name, a botch-free game.
FINAL THOUGHT - The scoreline was a liar tonight and the teams here are best likened to the aging bristols of Babs Windsor - at this stage they are closer together than what you think but further on down the line one will rise higher than the other and the gap in the cleavage will grow. Having said this I reckon it will be a close call come season end but West Didsbury look well drilled and, at this point, seem to have more potential in the pap.
Saturday 3 September 2016
BLANK BULLETS (NOT QUITE)
3rd September 2016 - Alsager Town 1 v 1 Holker Old Boys - An easy trip down the M6 in somewhat grim and grimy conditions with a few toxic roadside smells adding to the lowly feel of the journey that was done in less than 1 hour. The lasses dropped me off at the ground well before kick-off before they tootled off and indulged in a shopping excursion to Hanley. I settled down with a cup of cha, the matchday programme and my latest book 'Aliens - Out of the Shadows' and let the chill creep in whilst I whiled away the pre-kick-off time.
The teams came out, the leaden sky leaked like a lavatory onto a verdant pitch whose thick grass looked like making things a trifle wearing on the old boiled eggs (legs). No sooner had I assessed the line-ups then a quick goal by the home side Bullets was neatly worked that gave me a suggestion that the Old Boys of Holker needed to hang in there or face an early assault that could blow them away before the match had started proper. Hung in they did and what came was a long bout of testing tactics with both sides acting like two octopuses who had recently fallen in love and were indulging in a lot of wary prodding and poking all to no avail. Alsager were hefty and numbers 9, 10 and 11 were a niggling threat that seemed ready to come to fruition, the Old Boys were industrious but on the back foot so it came as a surprise when a sweet long range effort flew in and the match was all square, something the Alsager lads must have been certainly frustrated by. The half ended and the match was in a state of exact equilibrium.
Hotdog and tea were purchased whereupon the lady serving warned me to watch that my sausage didn't fall off. Ooh the sexy sauce and I wasted no time in responding with 'Bloody hell love I ain't that old'.
Munch, munch, slurp, slurp and...piddle.
Seat re-taken and the second half came and soon developed into a toilsome tussle that swung many ways with sweat pouring but no result in the last third for either team. The toss of a coin would be easier to predict than the outcome of this one and as one side seemed to take command it was soon taken away and the opposition grabbed ascendancy. As it transpired the match ended all square with no further goals but Alsager had the better chances but were held at bay by Holker's No1 (Ross Liddicott), my personal Man of the Match due to his grand reflexes, excellent rushing tactics, several good blocks and an all round alertness that gave his defenders an extra buffer. Alsager's No 10 ran the choice close and is worthy of a mention due to him being a right ruddy handful throughout - one to watch methinks.
FINAL THOUGHT - On grass that was slightly shorter than the pubes of a 1970's rhythm magazine exhibitionist the two sides gave a decent account of themselves and at the season end should be up in the top half pondering the play-offs. I wish them all the best!
The teams came out, the leaden sky leaked like a lavatory onto a verdant pitch whose thick grass looked like making things a trifle wearing on the old boiled eggs (legs). No sooner had I assessed the line-ups then a quick goal by the home side Bullets was neatly worked that gave me a suggestion that the Old Boys of Holker needed to hang in there or face an early assault that could blow them away before the match had started proper. Hung in they did and what came was a long bout of testing tactics with both sides acting like two octopuses who had recently fallen in love and were indulging in a lot of wary prodding and poking all to no avail. Alsager were hefty and numbers 9, 10 and 11 were a niggling threat that seemed ready to come to fruition, the Old Boys were industrious but on the back foot so it came as a surprise when a sweet long range effort flew in and the match was all square, something the Alsager lads must have been certainly frustrated by. The half ended and the match was in a state of exact equilibrium.
Hotdog and tea were purchased whereupon the lady serving warned me to watch that my sausage didn't fall off. Ooh the sexy sauce and I wasted no time in responding with 'Bloody hell love I ain't that old'.
Munch, munch, slurp, slurp and...piddle.
Seat re-taken and the second half came and soon developed into a toilsome tussle that swung many ways with sweat pouring but no result in the last third for either team. The toss of a coin would be easier to predict than the outcome of this one and as one side seemed to take command it was soon taken away and the opposition grabbed ascendancy. As it transpired the match ended all square with no further goals but Alsager had the better chances but were held at bay by Holker's No1 (Ross Liddicott), my personal Man of the Match due to his grand reflexes, excellent rushing tactics, several good blocks and an all round alertness that gave his defenders an extra buffer. Alsager's No 10 ran the choice close and is worthy of a mention due to him being a right ruddy handful throughout - one to watch methinks.
FINAL THOUGHT - On grass that was slightly shorter than the pubes of a 1970's rhythm magazine exhibitionist the two sides gave a decent account of themselves and at the season end should be up in the top half pondering the play-offs. I wish them all the best!
Friday 2 September 2016
DOUBLE AWAY DAY
1st September 2016 - St Helens Town 2 v 2
Prestwich Heys - Having missed a couple of matches this week
due to punky and nature-based demands I was looking forward to this match at a
temporary ground for the home side until their new ground is sorted. Me
and my good lady arrived at the home of Prescott Cables FC, purchased an
impressive programme for the nights event and had a natter with a busy
groundhopper about this, that and of course, t'other. A cup of cha', up
in the stands and the best view in the house was chosen to see these two evenly
matched sides play out a fair and competitive affair.
The first half saw St Helens primarily hold the upper hand so it came as something of a shock when a blazing run from the Prestwich winger led to a cross being finished with consummate ease. By heck that guy along the touchline didn't half shift and I for one failed to see who it was who had set his arse on fire - wow! Undaunted the home team ploughed on and got a well deserved equaliser via the noggin of Phillip Williams on the 32nd minute. The half was played out with both units seemingly happy to go into the break all level. Before moving on to the second half it is important to mention a bat flew past the stands (I presume a Pipistrelle) and may be part of a roost in a tucked away niche - I hope they get looked after, grand creatures they be!
Second half and the main bulk was a stodgy, hard fought affair with both teams best likened to the cracked dentist in The Little Shop Of Horrors, a lot of prodding and poking but a failure to hit any delicate nerves was the outcome except for one moment when St Helens took the lead through a decent move that was sweetly started by a brilliant ball from the rear that left Prestwich always on the back peg and struggling to regain composure. Dogged, rugged and frustrating would be the terms to describe the ensuing moments until the game suddenly sprang into life after Prestwich nailed an equaliser and put the scabby cat amongst the docile pigeons. Now the away team pushed hard, tested the rear guard of the home side and for all intents and purposes won a decent penalty that the referee was only too willing to award. Delight in one dug-out, dismay in the other - and then, unexpectedly, vice versa. The liner ruled off-side, was duly labelled a shithouse and the match terminated in hectic fashion and with no winner declared.
A footballing man's game with my personal Man of the Match being the
No 6 for Prestwich Heys (Jacob Wood) who put in a consistently high performance
and read the game well throughout. Time and time again his crust was on
the leather and when the ball was at his plates of meat he looked calm and
controlled throughout.
FINAL THOUGHT - Like the testicles of an African Bull Elephant these two units were well balanced but despite throbbing with plenty of desire the end result was just a little infertile to impregnate the league with another winning result. I think both outfits will steady things out though and should, by all the huffing and puffing, hold their own throughout the coming months.
FINAL THOUGHT - Like the testicles of an African Bull Elephant these two units were well balanced but despite throbbing with plenty of desire the end result was just a little infertile to impregnate the league with another winning result. I think both outfits will steady things out though and should, by all the huffing and puffing, hold their own throughout the coming months.
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