29th August 2017 - Irlam FC 0 v 2 AFC Liverpool - After a long day at work and some quick on-line website work at home it was in a mithered state that myself and my good lady headed over to Silver Street. The last time I was here was 2 years ago so a revisit was long overdue. The trip down was easy enough, the pre-match drinks most welcome and the weather for tonight's soccerised tickling was decent enough. This was the continuance of a very busy week with many tasks on many fronts lined up to be duly tackled. Tonight the brilliant blue of The Mitchells (est 1969) was up against the rubicund flush of The Little Reds (est 2008) in a contest that would surely jump start both teams season after a faltering few games. Positions were adopted after a chat with the genial gent Matthew Kay (Irlam's Assistant Manager) about the night's prospect. This was what developed before our keen mince- pies.
During the first period of the globe's revolution neither team established any ascendancy with an early sight-setter by The Reds No 11 (Daniel Boden) a meagre snippet of entertainment. Rapid rushes came either end with both teams passing and pushing and looking for that initial sniff of net glory. Irlam had the first opportunity of any substance when their No 10 (Jordan Icely) sneaked in but was thwarted at the last gasp by a quick off the line mitter. From here parity was re-established and this looked all set to be a closely contested chess match when suddenly, like a bishop on a rabid evangelical quest, Irlam's No 5 (Ryan Ledson) halted the opponents break with what is best described as a sinful tackle and was sent off the playing board in no uncertain terms. To add insult to injury, salt of the most spiteful kind was rubbed into the gaping wound when No 9 (Kevin Edgar) stepped up and curled the free-kick around the defensive wall and found the bottom corner of the net. It was a double blow that needed to be met with resilience and character something that Irlam displayed in abundance over the rest of the match with a distinct stubbornness not to be underestimated. A close in header was a great way to respond but Liverpool's No 1 (Dominic Garner) was equal to the task and made a fine reaction save although he failed to get to the next shot but his trusty upright came to the rescue as it was clattered with sincere might.
Good application by the Blues made sure they held their own but it was more than apparent that AFC Liverpool had one or two players quite capable of breaking the pattern and grabbing a second killer strike. This duly happened when No 8 (Calum Woods) was quick to counter, showed an unselfish streak and crossed to Kevin Edgar who was only denied by a shot by a late block that maybe saved the day. Seconds later No 10 (Deklan Anthony Hill) was through but weakly toe-poked his attempt on goal and allowed the keeper to make a regulation save. Next and No 7 (Stephen Milne) surged with intent, beat 2 players and squeezed in a cross from the touchline, somehow the Irlam back bods read the situation well and cleared the peril only for Edgar to try his luck moments later with a punt that missed the goal but kept the home squad on the back foot. Things seemed to be picking up when, from positive light, blackness descended as the floodlights overhead went out and the game was duly halted. We grabbed the chance to slurp some tea and move our rears to the opposite side of the ground whereupon we awaited the outcome. At last a flicker came, a glow grew and the ref let things get back underway. The players and the light loving moths commenced their action. 2 rough fouls by Irlam impeded impetus but the same team somehow cultivated a snap shot that was saved and fumbled but eventually cleared. The ref eventually blew, half time was very much needed I thought.
During the interval we finished our beverage and had a grand chat with a ground hopping chap. We covered various subjects including the noise of Crass, the joys of reading and of course the many grounds we have in the North-West and how rewarding this non-league football is. Good stuff all-round until, rather rudely, the players came out and started playing football again, ooh the rotten sods (wink, wink).
An early low strike by the visitors was followed by some good pace and well-spread play albeit with little in-roads made. A defensive blunder at Liverpool's rear allowed an Irlam bod to crack a shot but again it was a tame effort. The guests were not making the most of the one man advantage but crikey Irlam weren't half putting in a shift. The game remained a hard one to call and at one point it became a drab affair, duller in fact than Quasimodo's love life or that notorious book 'Cardboard Box Making' by Andy Murray - now that is dull. A push by the Reds, a low shot and easily saved. Calum Woods came next, he broke the coils of the offside web but it was the night sky that welcomed the 'way off target' ball. Within minutes the visiting No 7 (Stephen Milne) produced silky tootsies and weaved through two players and launched a shot, the crossbar was hammered. The game looked set to stay as it was with both units incapable of any penetration and very much in need of some managerial Viagra or time to reacquaint themselves with that fine goal-scoring love manual 'The Joy Of Nets'. It was just one of those nights it seemed, and the misses kept coming with AFCL's sub knocking a free-kick just wide and then Irlam having another dig but straight at the goalie who fumbled but saw his defenders eventually clear. A brace of Blue throws came, bugger all was the result as was the case with a couple of quick breaks at either end that fizzled at the last.
We were now chewing on the dog-ends of a testing affair when the AFC Liverpool lads had one last fling and when a hopeful cross came in the home goalkeeper for some reason chose to save cum catch rather than just thwack clear. It was a mess, the fumble allowed the ball to drop at the feet of the awaiting Joseph Whittington who accepted the gift, put a bullet in the head of the game and killed it stone dead. Within minutes, after an awful free-kick we were done and after a chat with a punky comrade who we had somehow missed all night we headed homeward. This was far from a classic and both teams produced much industry with little end sheen. The Man of The Match tonight goes to the No 7 of AFC Liverpool (Stephen Milne) who huffed and puffed with zest, had a fine work rate and made one or two fine runs that stood out from a gruelling encounter.
FINAL THOUGHT - A shock result in some respects on a night that was a test of both teams character. It is never easy to play against ten men and anything but a win is considered a failure which, in itself, brings added pressure. AFC Liverpool showed good consistency and stuck to the task well but they will need to sharpen their striking razors to avoid letting many potential victories turn into unnecessary regrets. Irlam displayed fine promise tonight and if a full squad works as hard as the ten did tonight I am happy to go on record and predict a top 8 finish. They showed a resilience here and, even though down in numbers, still created chances to get something from the game. If I was a betting man I reckon they will finish in a respectable position and have many positives from the long arduous season. One thing is for sure, we will be back down Silver Street and hopefully catching up with AFC Liverpool a few more times too - it would be ruddy vulgar not too!
Wednesday 30 August 2017
Monday 28 August 2017
THE WEST TEST GETS A 'GRADE A' VERDICT
28th August 2017 - West Chorlton & Didsbury 4 v 0 Runcorn Linnets FC - I am 52 years old today, that is over half a century of awkwardness, striving for balance and always piddling against the grain. It has been a long punky haul and I have seen many doors slam in my face due to honesty and passion - it happens. I have also been fortunate enough to have many fine opportunities arise and also have a desire strong enough to always want to put back - hence these reports - you gotta try. The morn had been lovely, a full English at Sainsbury's with the missus was ruddy lovely, a walk looking for some shrooms was gentle and semi-successful. A quick cuppa was had, a small chill and out we went, in the hope of a good installment of soccer at a localish non-league ground I am quite fond of. The weather was ruddy glorious and as we took up our peeper points with tea in hand we nattered away to each other and the arriving Stu of STP Records. The teams built up a pre-match sweat (not hard in this heat) and went in, re-appeared and locked horns.
The early bird pressure came from the flapping Linnets with a whole heap of industrious work going on. A long ball ball that should have posed no problems saw a yellow card issued with the resultant free-kick weak and without direction. Alert interplay by the visitors, with Paul Shanley the main instigator, saw a cross come and just miss a rising bonse - now that was close! WDC offered a quick riposte, Nico Evangelinos crossed for No 9 (Tom Bailey) who nudged goalward with the ball deflected over. The West followed up the sprightly move with another attack that saw Evangelinos roaming forth on another troubling sortie before getting dragged down in a most unsightly fashion. The bonus punt was straight at the keeper - I expected better. Within seconds a break for the hosts was on, the offside trap was sprung, Saul Henderson chased down an escaping ball, the goalkeeper tried to get their first but was coolly chipped and a classy goal was had - 1-0 to The West and one up for the Beef. The Linnets flocked together and pecked back, a couple of chances came and went but fortunes seemed to be changing. Their opponents though were on good form today and out of the hustle Matty Kay appeared and let fly a shot that was well telegraphed and easy to read. The keeper however had the wrong glasses on and somehow fumbled the ball which allowed the poaching Henderson to sneak in and grab a second. Maybe less stylish than the first but they all count and this was a real turn-up for the unreliable books. The home bods came again, lax defending and hesitancy allowed Evangelinos to have a crack that, luckily for the guests, flashed high into the trees.
A scrappy period ensued, the black and white army though were still dictating play and a free-kick and free header could easily have given rise to a 3 goal cushion as could a connected volley by Evangelinos who once more knocked the ball high. The Linnets were getting plucked here and if they didn't take care they would be well and truly fu***** too - ooh nasty, I am sure you know what I mean! The home squad were playing superbly today and it was only the final gloss that was lacking to stop this game from being a sheer whitewash. More touchline debates came, 'Ming Mong' is term I have never heard, I consulted the 'off the ball dictionary', I think it means 'useless dickhead' - I could be wrong! A fast break again came the way of the leading team, Henderson in, the keeper blocked the effort and a return nut put the ball goalward - the result, a blinding save to applaud. A corner came, a scramble in the goalmouth should have been dealt with, the ball bounced about and then Nico Evangelinos screwdrived the ball home and brought up an unassailable and well deserved lead. Magical. The Linnets offered a weak shot in response followed by a free-kick that failed to ring any bells of alarm. They were still trying but then the todger of ill fortune was dangled, the piss flowed onto the chips of the chirpers and a purely awful challenge saw Tom Hardwick receive a straight red and pay an early visit to the tub. Arguments rose between fans and managers, the language used was not what you would hear in a nunnery and the game carried on regardless. Unbelievably the ten-men strugglers came on, produced some final pressure but failed to find any consolation whatsoever. The half was done.
A chinwag and a soak up of the sapping rays, by heck I should have brought my sun-lounger and open crotch speedos - then again, it is a family game I suppose.
The second half kicked off in wretched fashion, a brace of bookings and some general loose play hardly made for a fine spectacle. The first real attack came the Linnets way, a butter smooth build up allowed Shanley to use a light touch that went agonisingly close but just had too much elevation. The green and yellows strove to get back into this one but WDC caught them on the hop, Saul Henderson again was in a one on one situation and displayed good strength, wonderful poise and a clinical eye to bag a stunning goal and earn a greatly deserved hat-trick. A lunging tackle came soon after, the Linnets No 6 was the offender but somehow escaped the book, you can imagine the words exchanged from the dug-outs - like Bernard Manning in a whorehouse no less! The guests came on again, a push, nutmeg, handball claim and a poor end product - somehow the Gods were not smiling fondly on the travelers today and maybe the rumours of the Managers association with the devil are only too true. Another lull, Runcorn ran themselves ragged and earned the odd glimpse of goal but the home defence was stout and tighter than the buttons on Neville Southall's shirt (see online pictures of the ex-Everton mittman, now turned fatman, to fully appreciate the simile). The rub of the green would not change and when the Dids broke again it was only the athletic goalkeeping brilliance of Terence Smith that denied No 8 a fine nutted strike. Soon after the home sub Oscar was twisting and turning (and no doubt putting his hips in peril of an arthritic attack) before releasing the ball and allowing a colleague to fire forth. The shot didn't ripple mesh but crikey surely another goal was coming. Alas no, the time ticked on, the game balanced and hit a flatline and after another great save from the Runcorn netter and a few half chances a halt was called and all sun-kissed onlookers could weave their merry way home.
Anyone claiming to have predicted today's scoreline is either the biggest lying git alive or possessed of things best left unmentioned. This was a turn-up as regards the the end result but by heck West Didsbury and Chorlton were in a commanding mood today. Man of the Match should go to the hat-trick hero but these goals aren't possible without the grafters in the team. My choice is the home teams No 5 (Gary Lilley) who produced steam from his rear, ran like a rabbit on sex-hormones and hustled and bustled like a fly trying to be first to the cows rectum. It was a big-hearted performance and was carried out in such an understated way that many may have missed the input - not me, applause sir, applause!
FINAL THOUGHT - A 4 goal difference in a game that appeared on paper as a tight affair shows what tales of the unexpected we can encounter in the mad non-league world. You just never know. Despite this setback Runcorn Linnets will do fine this season and I bet any money they will be somewhere in the shake come the last dregs of the season. As for West Didsbury and Chorlton, well given this evidence they can actually win this league and go on to some mighty fine things although one or two members of the bench may need serious tranquilisers along the way to help them cope with the undulating levels of excitement. It is a growing club both on and off the pitch, I will return several times this season, if I get more of the same I will be a man without complaint, unless of course I get bit on the arse by a winter wasp and grow a third buttock. It may sound far fetched but on today's evidence....anything can happen.
The early bird pressure came from the flapping Linnets with a whole heap of industrious work going on. A long ball ball that should have posed no problems saw a yellow card issued with the resultant free-kick weak and without direction. Alert interplay by the visitors, with Paul Shanley the main instigator, saw a cross come and just miss a rising bonse - now that was close! WDC offered a quick riposte, Nico Evangelinos crossed for No 9 (Tom Bailey) who nudged goalward with the ball deflected over. The West followed up the sprightly move with another attack that saw Evangelinos roaming forth on another troubling sortie before getting dragged down in a most unsightly fashion. The bonus punt was straight at the keeper - I expected better. Within seconds a break for the hosts was on, the offside trap was sprung, Saul Henderson chased down an escaping ball, the goalkeeper tried to get their first but was coolly chipped and a classy goal was had - 1-0 to The West and one up for the Beef. The Linnets flocked together and pecked back, a couple of chances came and went but fortunes seemed to be changing. Their opponents though were on good form today and out of the hustle Matty Kay appeared and let fly a shot that was well telegraphed and easy to read. The keeper however had the wrong glasses on and somehow fumbled the ball which allowed the poaching Henderson to sneak in and grab a second. Maybe less stylish than the first but they all count and this was a real turn-up for the unreliable books. The home bods came again, lax defending and hesitancy allowed Evangelinos to have a crack that, luckily for the guests, flashed high into the trees.
A scrappy period ensued, the black and white army though were still dictating play and a free-kick and free header could easily have given rise to a 3 goal cushion as could a connected volley by Evangelinos who once more knocked the ball high. The Linnets were getting plucked here and if they didn't take care they would be well and truly fu***** too - ooh nasty, I am sure you know what I mean! The home squad were playing superbly today and it was only the final gloss that was lacking to stop this game from being a sheer whitewash. More touchline debates came, 'Ming Mong' is term I have never heard, I consulted the 'off the ball dictionary', I think it means 'useless dickhead' - I could be wrong! A fast break again came the way of the leading team, Henderson in, the keeper blocked the effort and a return nut put the ball goalward - the result, a blinding save to applaud. A corner came, a scramble in the goalmouth should have been dealt with, the ball bounced about and then Nico Evangelinos screwdrived the ball home and brought up an unassailable and well deserved lead. Magical. The Linnets offered a weak shot in response followed by a free-kick that failed to ring any bells of alarm. They were still trying but then the todger of ill fortune was dangled, the piss flowed onto the chips of the chirpers and a purely awful challenge saw Tom Hardwick receive a straight red and pay an early visit to the tub. Arguments rose between fans and managers, the language used was not what you would hear in a nunnery and the game carried on regardless. Unbelievably the ten-men strugglers came on, produced some final pressure but failed to find any consolation whatsoever. The half was done.
A chinwag and a soak up of the sapping rays, by heck I should have brought my sun-lounger and open crotch speedos - then again, it is a family game I suppose.
The second half kicked off in wretched fashion, a brace of bookings and some general loose play hardly made for a fine spectacle. The first real attack came the Linnets way, a butter smooth build up allowed Shanley to use a light touch that went agonisingly close but just had too much elevation. The green and yellows strove to get back into this one but WDC caught them on the hop, Saul Henderson again was in a one on one situation and displayed good strength, wonderful poise and a clinical eye to bag a stunning goal and earn a greatly deserved hat-trick. A lunging tackle came soon after, the Linnets No 6 was the offender but somehow escaped the book, you can imagine the words exchanged from the dug-outs - like Bernard Manning in a whorehouse no less! The guests came on again, a push, nutmeg, handball claim and a poor end product - somehow the Gods were not smiling fondly on the travelers today and maybe the rumours of the Managers association with the devil are only too true. Another lull, Runcorn ran themselves ragged and earned the odd glimpse of goal but the home defence was stout and tighter than the buttons on Neville Southall's shirt (see online pictures of the ex-Everton mittman, now turned fatman, to fully appreciate the simile). The rub of the green would not change and when the Dids broke again it was only the athletic goalkeeping brilliance of Terence Smith that denied No 8 a fine nutted strike. Soon after the home sub Oscar was twisting and turning (and no doubt putting his hips in peril of an arthritic attack) before releasing the ball and allowing a colleague to fire forth. The shot didn't ripple mesh but crikey surely another goal was coming. Alas no, the time ticked on, the game balanced and hit a flatline and after another great save from the Runcorn netter and a few half chances a halt was called and all sun-kissed onlookers could weave their merry way home.
Anyone claiming to have predicted today's scoreline is either the biggest lying git alive or possessed of things best left unmentioned. This was a turn-up as regards the the end result but by heck West Didsbury and Chorlton were in a commanding mood today. Man of the Match should go to the hat-trick hero but these goals aren't possible without the grafters in the team. My choice is the home teams No 5 (Gary Lilley) who produced steam from his rear, ran like a rabbit on sex-hormones and hustled and bustled like a fly trying to be first to the cows rectum. It was a big-hearted performance and was carried out in such an understated way that many may have missed the input - not me, applause sir, applause!
FINAL THOUGHT - A 4 goal difference in a game that appeared on paper as a tight affair shows what tales of the unexpected we can encounter in the mad non-league world. You just never know. Despite this setback Runcorn Linnets will do fine this season and I bet any money they will be somewhere in the shake come the last dregs of the season. As for West Didsbury and Chorlton, well given this evidence they can actually win this league and go on to some mighty fine things although one or two members of the bench may need serious tranquilisers along the way to help them cope with the undulating levels of excitement. It is a growing club both on and off the pitch, I will return several times this season, if I get more of the same I will be a man without complaint, unless of course I get bit on the arse by a winter wasp and grow a third buttock. It may sound far fetched but on today's evidence....anything can happen.
Sunday 27 August 2017
NERVE PILLS AT NEW MILLS - A MUST
26th August 2017 - New Mills FC 2 v 2 Nelson FC - A previous night of beer, varied noise and an attempt to raise some conkers for some worthy wildlife charities saw me wake up at the crack, scrape my pimpled posterior from the pit and indulge in a semi-active morn. The punk pit from where I primarily attempt to stretch boundaries and expose new vibrations is where I do most of my huffing and puffing and you can imagine the struggle and the need to switch off - God bless the cure-all that is non-league football. Forget those greasy snake-oil salesmen, just get to a match and lose yourself in the game. Today I had a leisurely walk to the train station, had a good read on the platform (Somerset Maugham is a genius), got off the other end (and a Common Field Grasshopper hopped on, where's he off to then) and had a quick mooch in the Sett Valley (only 12 fungi but all appreciated), had another read on a local churchyard (man what glorious sun) and entered the ground and enjoyed tea, chips and burger (bloody wonderful) and read some more. The punters and players arrived, eventually a game of football took place and here is another Fungalised take on matters which I hope serves you well (it is nice to put a small bit back).
The gold and black of The Millers caught the initial peeper with an early shot from No 11 (George Blackwell) flying over the crossbar. With the twitching of a gnat's love muscle (oh those sexy gnats) the same player wormed inward, glimpsed mesh and forced a one handed save from the luminous green mittman. The blues of Nelson addressed the opening imbalance and set about some good hustling and off the ball movement. Despite this New Mills found the net first with good 'on the deck' football that saw a ball tossed in and the globe rippling the mesh - alas the goalkeeper was deemed to be fouled and the strike was duly negated - bugger. The careful build up play of the home bods was now ensnaring the eye and making life difficult for the guests and one such snippet of play saw some cultivated preparation result in a cross that found the head of No 9 (Scott Samuel) who just lacked the killer's ruthlessness - close but no blood drawn. Nelson were doing well to stay in this and managed a snap shot of their own that didn't trouble the keeper but kept their opponents honest. Again New Mills No 11 was the danger man, weaving a merry Hell in the corner and crossing with class that somehow eluded and cranial connection. The return cross was equally class and again bore no bonse-based fruit. No 5 (Joseph Armstrong) tried a pot shot seconds later, indicating the first shoots of frustration, it didn't cause any peril and Nelson then resisted and persisted and had a good cross thrown into the box themselves but it was defended, cleared and allowed the NM boys to counter and win a corner. The ball was swung in, a defensive head deflected the ball, Scott Samuel connected, over the bar the ball went and a golden chance missed.
A rapier attack from Nelson now came, No 8 and No 9 combining with the ball fizzing across goal and just aching for an incoming attacker to nudge home - nothing doing. Back up the other end, Blackwell was at it again, he linked up with a colleague, got the ball back and spun on a ten bob bit. A shot came, man that was a close but the save was firm. Again New Mills came, their effective No 4 (Kirk Arrow) lost patience, twanged the leg bow and let fly. The ball moved in the air, the keeper did well to get his body behind the ball but it pinged loose and as quick as a flash .... pounced and slotted home with ease. 1-0 and perhaps deserved, but from the kick off Nelson were focused, rushed forth put a cross in and bang, the crust of No 7 (Alexander Mullen) sent the ball homeward and we were all back to square one. The latter end of the half was upon us, New Mills were hungry to repair the recent damage, Blackwell troubled further and got a shot in that resulted in a corner. Another punt, another corner, a shot cum cross and over - danger quelled. A soft free-kick went the other way, equally soft defending allowed No 9 (Bradley Kay) to sneak in and nearly pinch the lead - now that was a stark warning if ever I saw one. No 8 for Mills paid back the red light moment with a a crack at goal but was harassed at the last and ballooned the effort high. One more shot for Nelson and the fascinating half was over - I need some tranquillisers - this was a thriller my fellow Miller.
Some pop and a quiet moment and another quick read - what a fine book.
The teams re-appeared, one chap was late (darn those dodgy bladders) and an early shout for a penalty by the home team nearly had a few of their fans also leaking with excitement. Out of the blue Nelson broke, the home goaler was off his line and blocked, the ball flew high and could of gone anywhere luckily it was defended well and danger was deadened. Now a minor lull, both teams re-adjusting to the climate of the game after the break. Nelson were dangerous on the counter, one such break forced a sprawl and save by the Mills No 1 (Dean Williams). The Millers worked back in after several more scares and a brace of punts from the eager Scott Samuel could easily have found the back of the net with the volley well struck and the stab at goal just deflected wide. An idiot scuffle saw Nelson's No 9 get suckered into trouble and he was lucky to stay on the pitch as head contact was made and some thespianism dramatised the contact. I think the end decision was fair though and sense, in its loosest form, was resumed. A spice was entering the match though, niggled temperaments were being exposed, someone could easily blow a fuse here and piddle on any hopes their team-mates may have of grabbing a 3 point bonus. New Mills nearly paid dearly when Kay crept in with a crafty header and I think the home captain was bang on the mark when he raucously informed his colleagues to 'cut the shit'. The referee, during this tetchy period, made some moot decisions, all against the Millers they were and I did wonder which Travel Lodge he and the Nelson manager were booked into (ooh the fruity buggers). These things happen and sometimes the rub of the green can seem to fall one way and not the other but over the course of a season all gets leveled out I am sure. Next up and a free-kick to Nelson, the ball was deflected over. A corner followed and a defensive crust cleared with 2 ripostes the other end, from Arrow and Blackwell respectively, which were followed by a sizzling cross and a close in tap in that somehow missed the target - crikey, what fine action.
New Mills started to dominate proceedings and looked to be going for the jugular when quite unexpectedly a smash and grab break came and Nelson's No 4 (Anthony McLoughlin) was allowed to creep into space and slide the ball home. A shocker indeed and indicating that perseverance pays! Now we saw Nelson show some solid defiant hunger, New Mills release a boost of red light urgency. The clock was ticking away and with only 1 minute left the ball was played to perfection and a choice header by Dennis Sherriff made this game all square. Wonderful stuff and the closing minutes saw no let up in action with the hosts throwing their all into winning this one. A cross from Arrow allowed Lofthouse to shoot, a corner was had but the contact made went wide and a final shot from Blackwell flew way over and left punters with their tickers in their gobs. At last we were done, this had been a competitive peach with some real honest and influential performances. Man of the Match this time though goes to the silky, mobile and keen of eye, a player who rarely put a foot wrong and had a strong footballing head that saw space that others were overlooking. Step forth New Mill's Maestro (Kirk Arrow) and accept a good pat on the back for a very rewarding contribution.
FINAL THOUGHT - In the corner shop of football action you should take your eyes off the top shelf and stop leering at those John Motson Nudes and Gerald Sinstadt Love Manuals and get your peepers in the bargain basement basket where, for a measly sum, you get top end action that never fails to delight. I took my chances yet again and witnessed a fabulous match that could have gone either way at the last but ended, in what I deemed, a bloody fair draw. Those in attendance must surely agree that this was a pleasure and both squads should be applauded on their efforts. I reckon we have two tough nuts to crack here and no-one will be getting an easy run against them provided the hands of Lady Luck play fair. Remember folks, non league doesn't mean crap football - it means reality, honesty and quality entertainment. Now get up, sell your Dickie Davies Erotica Collection and spend your hard earned conkers on some real sport.
The gold and black of The Millers caught the initial peeper with an early shot from No 11 (George Blackwell) flying over the crossbar. With the twitching of a gnat's love muscle (oh those sexy gnats) the same player wormed inward, glimpsed mesh and forced a one handed save from the luminous green mittman. The blues of Nelson addressed the opening imbalance and set about some good hustling and off the ball movement. Despite this New Mills found the net first with good 'on the deck' football that saw a ball tossed in and the globe rippling the mesh - alas the goalkeeper was deemed to be fouled and the strike was duly negated - bugger. The careful build up play of the home bods was now ensnaring the eye and making life difficult for the guests and one such snippet of play saw some cultivated preparation result in a cross that found the head of No 9 (Scott Samuel) who just lacked the killer's ruthlessness - close but no blood drawn. Nelson were doing well to stay in this and managed a snap shot of their own that didn't trouble the keeper but kept their opponents honest. Again New Mills No 11 was the danger man, weaving a merry Hell in the corner and crossing with class that somehow eluded and cranial connection. The return cross was equally class and again bore no bonse-based fruit. No 5 (Joseph Armstrong) tried a pot shot seconds later, indicating the first shoots of frustration, it didn't cause any peril and Nelson then resisted and persisted and had a good cross thrown into the box themselves but it was defended, cleared and allowed the NM boys to counter and win a corner. The ball was swung in, a defensive head deflected the ball, Scott Samuel connected, over the bar the ball went and a golden chance missed.
A rapier attack from Nelson now came, No 8 and No 9 combining with the ball fizzing across goal and just aching for an incoming attacker to nudge home - nothing doing. Back up the other end, Blackwell was at it again, he linked up with a colleague, got the ball back and spun on a ten bob bit. A shot came, man that was a close but the save was firm. Again New Mills came, their effective No 4 (Kirk Arrow) lost patience, twanged the leg bow and let fly. The ball moved in the air, the keeper did well to get his body behind the ball but it pinged loose and as quick as a flash .... pounced and slotted home with ease. 1-0 and perhaps deserved, but from the kick off Nelson were focused, rushed forth put a cross in and bang, the crust of No 7 (Alexander Mullen) sent the ball homeward and we were all back to square one. The latter end of the half was upon us, New Mills were hungry to repair the recent damage, Blackwell troubled further and got a shot in that resulted in a corner. Another punt, another corner, a shot cum cross and over - danger quelled. A soft free-kick went the other way, equally soft defending allowed No 9 (Bradley Kay) to sneak in and nearly pinch the lead - now that was a stark warning if ever I saw one. No 8 for Mills paid back the red light moment with a a crack at goal but was harassed at the last and ballooned the effort high. One more shot for Nelson and the fascinating half was over - I need some tranquillisers - this was a thriller my fellow Miller.
Some pop and a quiet moment and another quick read - what a fine book.
The teams re-appeared, one chap was late (darn those dodgy bladders) and an early shout for a penalty by the home team nearly had a few of their fans also leaking with excitement. Out of the blue Nelson broke, the home goaler was off his line and blocked, the ball flew high and could of gone anywhere luckily it was defended well and danger was deadened. Now a minor lull, both teams re-adjusting to the climate of the game after the break. Nelson were dangerous on the counter, one such break forced a sprawl and save by the Mills No 1 (Dean Williams). The Millers worked back in after several more scares and a brace of punts from the eager Scott Samuel could easily have found the back of the net with the volley well struck and the stab at goal just deflected wide. An idiot scuffle saw Nelson's No 9 get suckered into trouble and he was lucky to stay on the pitch as head contact was made and some thespianism dramatised the contact. I think the end decision was fair though and sense, in its loosest form, was resumed. A spice was entering the match though, niggled temperaments were being exposed, someone could easily blow a fuse here and piddle on any hopes their team-mates may have of grabbing a 3 point bonus. New Mills nearly paid dearly when Kay crept in with a crafty header and I think the home captain was bang on the mark when he raucously informed his colleagues to 'cut the shit'. The referee, during this tetchy period, made some moot decisions, all against the Millers they were and I did wonder which Travel Lodge he and the Nelson manager were booked into (ooh the fruity buggers). These things happen and sometimes the rub of the green can seem to fall one way and not the other but over the course of a season all gets leveled out I am sure. Next up and a free-kick to Nelson, the ball was deflected over. A corner followed and a defensive crust cleared with 2 ripostes the other end, from Arrow and Blackwell respectively, which were followed by a sizzling cross and a close in tap in that somehow missed the target - crikey, what fine action.
New Mills started to dominate proceedings and looked to be going for the jugular when quite unexpectedly a smash and grab break came and Nelson's No 4 (Anthony McLoughlin) was allowed to creep into space and slide the ball home. A shocker indeed and indicating that perseverance pays! Now we saw Nelson show some solid defiant hunger, New Mills release a boost of red light urgency. The clock was ticking away and with only 1 minute left the ball was played to perfection and a choice header by Dennis Sherriff made this game all square. Wonderful stuff and the closing minutes saw no let up in action with the hosts throwing their all into winning this one. A cross from Arrow allowed Lofthouse to shoot, a corner was had but the contact made went wide and a final shot from Blackwell flew way over and left punters with their tickers in their gobs. At last we were done, this had been a competitive peach with some real honest and influential performances. Man of the Match this time though goes to the silky, mobile and keen of eye, a player who rarely put a foot wrong and had a strong footballing head that saw space that others were overlooking. Step forth New Mill's Maestro (Kirk Arrow) and accept a good pat on the back for a very rewarding contribution.
FINAL THOUGHT - In the corner shop of football action you should take your eyes off the top shelf and stop leering at those John Motson Nudes and Gerald Sinstadt Love Manuals and get your peepers in the bargain basement basket where, for a measly sum, you get top end action that never fails to delight. I took my chances yet again and witnessed a fabulous match that could have gone either way at the last but ended, in what I deemed, a bloody fair draw. Those in attendance must surely agree that this was a pleasure and both squads should be applauded on their efforts. I reckon we have two tough nuts to crack here and no-one will be getting an easy run against them provided the hands of Lady Luck play fair. Remember folks, non league doesn't mean crap football - it means reality, honesty and quality entertainment. Now get up, sell your Dickie Davies Erotica Collection and spend your hard earned conkers on some real sport.
Wednesday 23 August 2017
OPEN WOUNDS - SALTED
22nd August 2017 - West Didsbury & Chorlton 1 v 3 1874 Northwich - After last night's late finish I was hoping one of these teams could get the job done and progress into the next round of the cup and give me good time to get home and rest my tired carcass. The fungus season has snuck upon me, family life is as busy as per, work takes a huge chunk of time and I have a bundle of outstanding tasks that need my attention - oh bugger. Home from work, tea, moth trap checked and last night's match report tidied up, I got dressed and was dropped off at the ground by my two lasses who were going shopping instead of joining me at the ground - ooh the silly tinkers, if they miss a 10 goal classic I will not be held responsible but will accept the kick up the arris I may well get. Tea and chocolate was purchased and my position between the dug-outs was had where I indulged in a lengthy chat with WDC's Assistant Manager (Robert Madden) who was one helluva amiable and busy dude, doing a bit of this, that and 't'other to keep his beloved club...moving forward - can't fault it and as a word of encouragement - 'sod the moaning neighbours'.
To the match and the ball got rolling on the dot with an early free-kick for the visitors. Their No 11 (Taylor Kennerley) delivered well but the defending was stout and the ball was duly head-cracked over. The corner was chucked in and the ball fell loose upon which Kennerley again connected but was denied early triumph by a firm save. A shot came the other end after a throw in and then flick on that allowed Bailey to force a save from the early rising keeper. A breakaway counter came, a close in header was blocked on the line and WDC and all the army breathed a sigh of relief as a pure moment of peril was passed. This was a frenzied start to a crucial cup tie with both teams trying their hardest to string together a punishing sequence of passes that would undoubtedly find end glory. To be honest though, at a pace such as this they would be incredibly fortunate to cultivate such a passage of play. A balance was had, I discussed the game with my touchline neighbour who turned out to be Irlam FC's assistant manager who was doing a bit of observation on forthcoming opposition. A very nice chap who was highly knowledgeable and very committed to his cause without thought of prestige and financial gain, now that does appeal to my punky nature - good lad. Suddenly amid chit chat and on-field bustle 74's persistent No 11 went on another sortie forth. He scorched across the emerald substrate, blazed a deadly accurate cross and allowed Sam Hind to step up and execute the easiest of tap-ins. A well deserved goal if the truth be told but the WDC army are made of stern stuff and pushed back with perspired heave ho despite the guests always a danger on the break.
The game advanced, the Northwich lads were visibly communicating better, their movement up front was eye-catching and when all this was spiced up by the handful that is No 9 (Kyle Riley) one pondered what a hard nights work was ahead for the huffing and puffing hosts. In truth though, the black and white clad squad rallied well with one particular flourish seeing Evangelinos ripping 74's rear a new orifice, duly finding Steer who hurtled in a cross that resulted in a shot from Matty Kay who looped the ball and was as bewildered as the rest of us to see it graze the top of the bar. WDC came again, a fine cross beat all defenders, Evangelinos made contact and blazed over. Up the other end and that pesky No 11 was running riot and contributing to what was a hectic finish to the first 45. In the dying embers the phoenix that is No 10 (Samuel Hind) for 1874 was nearly through, he was thwarted at the last but the home team needed to take heed - this guy was a menace who may just get a real sniff of goal. The referee halted the mania, it was just as well - this was a fizzer.
A chinwag with the Irlam bod, a swill of pop and the teams seemed to appear in no time at all - let's bloody have it.
A mad-dash start, a couple of weak efforts came the guests way, the home team seemed to be getting a tad frustrated although I still felt this one could go any way. This feeling was reinforced further when Tom Bailey of the West shot through and brought out the best from the oppositions keeper who sprawled well and kept his team with their noses in front. Next and a corner for the Dids that led to a blazer for Hall after a goalkeeping blip that caused a minor uproar from certain sections of the crowd. The intensity rose, genuine chances became a rare commodity with the hosts having to walk a severe tightrope and make sure their opponents didn't deliver a suckerpunch and steal the end prize. The pressure applied by West Didsbury & Chorlton was convincing to say the least and the fruit of their labours' was plucked with consummate ease when a 74 error allowed Tom Bailey to slip through, round the keeper and tidily slide the ball home. The ref spoke to the liner, there was a minor debate and breath was held - no fear, the goal was good - game back on.
Desire now dictated and it was apparent the the Northwich players were on a lull that they needed to snap out of. The visitors were being outworked and out hustled but eventually got a foot back in the door with a few hopeful knocks into the hosts' box. The WDC lads pushed back and advanced but the ball was lost, a break had and a corner eventually won by the industrious 1874 'erberts. The corner was swung in, the home defense was dozing and at the back post Jake Parker enjoyed free territory and nutted home with ease. His comrades went wild, a shirt was raised, a mindless booking was given - but who cares, the lead was smashed and grabbed during a time when the opposition were brandishing the cosh. As if this wasn't a cruel blow to the belief of The West then moments later their No 3 (Richmond Botchey) did indeed commit a botch job with a tackle that was just mis-timed and earned him a red card. I thought it was a trifle harsh but there ya go, the hill facing WDC just got a whole lot steeper. The free-kick that came from this faux pas was swift and tupped against the underside of the bar, salt looked to be added to the gaping wound but the ball stayed out and hope was still in the air for the local community.
The last dregs now came, WDC displayed cracking spirit and kept this a highly competitive affair. Only a goon would count them out of this one. 1874 Northwich though are made of sterner stuff and flourished late on and in the very last minute a cross field dissection took place with a ball that found Adam Whitlock who latched on and cracked home the killer blow. The travelling support erupted, shouts of 'Wembley' filled the balmy night air and although the defiant home squad had one last chance that should have closed the gap the game was up with the man in the middle confirming matters seconds later. A good game this, some solid performances but for me, one of the smallest defenders in the league deserves the nod tonight, namely 1874's No 2 (Paul Connor). The amount of work this lad did, the amount of times he got his noggin on the ball and his quiet efficiency all deserve mention and so he gets a deserved nod and best wishes for all future efforts - fair play to you sir.
FINAL THOUGHT - The West Didsbury and Chorlton crew have something special going on here, both on and off the pitch and a big shout out needs to be had for all their efforts. Football wise they are a very capable outfit with one or two players shining bright and a few others just needing to find true form to make the team the complete package. I reckon in a few months we may have a force to be seriously reckoned with and one who may be pushing for a top 5 finish. 1874 Northwich were my tip to win the league this year, a tough ask but the team, like that withering and cranky cook Fanny Craddock, have all the ingredients to stir up a stink and turn the stomachs of many hopeful dabblers who have an eye on the pie of victory. The spice of pace, the sugar sweetness of skill and a reliable confidence within the crusts of all expose a team that will be too tough to swallow for many - the advice is - watch this space Johnnie.
To the match and the ball got rolling on the dot with an early free-kick for the visitors. Their No 11 (Taylor Kennerley) delivered well but the defending was stout and the ball was duly head-cracked over. The corner was chucked in and the ball fell loose upon which Kennerley again connected but was denied early triumph by a firm save. A shot came the other end after a throw in and then flick on that allowed Bailey to force a save from the early rising keeper. A breakaway counter came, a close in header was blocked on the line and WDC and all the army breathed a sigh of relief as a pure moment of peril was passed. This was a frenzied start to a crucial cup tie with both teams trying their hardest to string together a punishing sequence of passes that would undoubtedly find end glory. To be honest though, at a pace such as this they would be incredibly fortunate to cultivate such a passage of play. A balance was had, I discussed the game with my touchline neighbour who turned out to be Irlam FC's assistant manager who was doing a bit of observation on forthcoming opposition. A very nice chap who was highly knowledgeable and very committed to his cause without thought of prestige and financial gain, now that does appeal to my punky nature - good lad. Suddenly amid chit chat and on-field bustle 74's persistent No 11 went on another sortie forth. He scorched across the emerald substrate, blazed a deadly accurate cross and allowed Sam Hind to step up and execute the easiest of tap-ins. A well deserved goal if the truth be told but the WDC army are made of stern stuff and pushed back with perspired heave ho despite the guests always a danger on the break.
The game advanced, the Northwich lads were visibly communicating better, their movement up front was eye-catching and when all this was spiced up by the handful that is No 9 (Kyle Riley) one pondered what a hard nights work was ahead for the huffing and puffing hosts. In truth though, the black and white clad squad rallied well with one particular flourish seeing Evangelinos ripping 74's rear a new orifice, duly finding Steer who hurtled in a cross that resulted in a shot from Matty Kay who looped the ball and was as bewildered as the rest of us to see it graze the top of the bar. WDC came again, a fine cross beat all defenders, Evangelinos made contact and blazed over. Up the other end and that pesky No 11 was running riot and contributing to what was a hectic finish to the first 45. In the dying embers the phoenix that is No 10 (Samuel Hind) for 1874 was nearly through, he was thwarted at the last but the home team needed to take heed - this guy was a menace who may just get a real sniff of goal. The referee halted the mania, it was just as well - this was a fizzer.
A chinwag with the Irlam bod, a swill of pop and the teams seemed to appear in no time at all - let's bloody have it.
A mad-dash start, a couple of weak efforts came the guests way, the home team seemed to be getting a tad frustrated although I still felt this one could go any way. This feeling was reinforced further when Tom Bailey of the West shot through and brought out the best from the oppositions keeper who sprawled well and kept his team with their noses in front. Next and a corner for the Dids that led to a blazer for Hall after a goalkeeping blip that caused a minor uproar from certain sections of the crowd. The intensity rose, genuine chances became a rare commodity with the hosts having to walk a severe tightrope and make sure their opponents didn't deliver a suckerpunch and steal the end prize. The pressure applied by West Didsbury & Chorlton was convincing to say the least and the fruit of their labours' was plucked with consummate ease when a 74 error allowed Tom Bailey to slip through, round the keeper and tidily slide the ball home. The ref spoke to the liner, there was a minor debate and breath was held - no fear, the goal was good - game back on.
Desire now dictated and it was apparent the the Northwich players were on a lull that they needed to snap out of. The visitors were being outworked and out hustled but eventually got a foot back in the door with a few hopeful knocks into the hosts' box. The WDC lads pushed back and advanced but the ball was lost, a break had and a corner eventually won by the industrious 1874 'erberts. The corner was swung in, the home defense was dozing and at the back post Jake Parker enjoyed free territory and nutted home with ease. His comrades went wild, a shirt was raised, a mindless booking was given - but who cares, the lead was smashed and grabbed during a time when the opposition were brandishing the cosh. As if this wasn't a cruel blow to the belief of The West then moments later their No 3 (Richmond Botchey) did indeed commit a botch job with a tackle that was just mis-timed and earned him a red card. I thought it was a trifle harsh but there ya go, the hill facing WDC just got a whole lot steeper. The free-kick that came from this faux pas was swift and tupped against the underside of the bar, salt looked to be added to the gaping wound but the ball stayed out and hope was still in the air for the local community.
The last dregs now came, WDC displayed cracking spirit and kept this a highly competitive affair. Only a goon would count them out of this one. 1874 Northwich though are made of sterner stuff and flourished late on and in the very last minute a cross field dissection took place with a ball that found Adam Whitlock who latched on and cracked home the killer blow. The travelling support erupted, shouts of 'Wembley' filled the balmy night air and although the defiant home squad had one last chance that should have closed the gap the game was up with the man in the middle confirming matters seconds later. A good game this, some solid performances but for me, one of the smallest defenders in the league deserves the nod tonight, namely 1874's No 2 (Paul Connor). The amount of work this lad did, the amount of times he got his noggin on the ball and his quiet efficiency all deserve mention and so he gets a deserved nod and best wishes for all future efforts - fair play to you sir.
FINAL THOUGHT - The West Didsbury and Chorlton crew have something special going on here, both on and off the pitch and a big shout out needs to be had for all their efforts. Football wise they are a very capable outfit with one or two players shining bright and a few others just needing to find true form to make the team the complete package. I reckon in a few months we may have a force to be seriously reckoned with and one who may be pushing for a top 5 finish. 1874 Northwich were my tip to win the league this year, a tough ask but the team, like that withering and cranky cook Fanny Craddock, have all the ingredients to stir up a stink and turn the stomachs of many hopeful dabblers who have an eye on the pie of victory. The spice of pace, the sugar sweetness of skill and a reliable confidence within the crusts of all expose a team that will be too tough to swallow for many - the advice is - watch this space Johnnie.
Tuesday 22 August 2017
AND ON THE SAGA GOES...TO BE CONTINUED
21st August 2017 - Maine Road 1 v 1 Abbey Hey - I haven't been well of late, some strange miasma has infected my entire physical and mental framework and I feel I am not the same man as I was a couple of weeks ago. I went to the doctors, he asked me of my symptoms and I duly listed them. A sporadic whistling in the ears, a violent lunging to one side with an outstretched arm or a sudden swing of the leg at an invisible object. To add to this I had a rare form of Tourettes syndrome that forced me to unexpectedly shout out various verbal enigmas such as 'Offside', 'Foul' and, perhaps most embarrassing' The referees a wanker'. The quack asked me of my bowel habits and when I revealed I was crapping 6 footballs a day a moment of 'eureka' illuminated his eyes. He took a blood test, it was 90% clubhouse tea and a stool sample was mainly made up of well-digested chips and chocolate bars. The diagnosis that followed was a pure formality - I had fallen victim to football fever, Non-league football fever to be exact, perhaps the most debilitating form known to man. The news was bad, there was no known cure although watching that shite premier league stuff could help one shake off the main symptoms of the real game itself. I didn't know what to do and was in a state of disbelief, especially after the Doc insisted on a rectal examination without wearing gloves - in truth I never wear gloves when I am having my arse checked so I shouldn't grumble. I left the surgery downcast, came home and went immediately to the fixture list. 3 games were noted, I decided to ignore medical advice and after a quick 2 ball crap I got dressed and headed to Brantingham Road for another necessary fix. Two local sides were on show and plenty of other plague victims were in attendance - as an aside, the game went like this.
The familiar trill of the whistle came, this FA cup replay was under way - the start was equally competitive on a chip pan surface nicely kissed by the late summer mists. Abbey Hey had the initial upper hand with a passing game that was slightly more fluent than their opponents who were steaming hard but yet to find any cohesion. An early free-kick by the guests was deflected over with the corner producing a nut goalward but off target. Intent exposed and The Road were inspired to counter with several follow-up breaks, the best of which saw their No 7 weave and let fly a shot which forced the keeper to stand firm and make a routine but effective save. From the corner the pressure was upheld with the ever-ready No 8 (Matthew Morgan) doing his usual efficient and mightily effective dashing around the park. The game soon re-balanced though but Road's high defensive position was making matters difficult for their opponents with very little light at the end of a mizzled tunnel. Out of the murk the home crew came again, Matthew Morgan was the beneficiary of a free-kick which he duly struck with looping class only to be denied by a marvelous save from a keeper on his toes. The ball hit the post, hung in suspended animation before being hoofed clear by a defending chap determined to relieve the ranks. Minutes later a sexy flick and cross saw No 8 have the chance to shoot but it was a tame finish. A follow-up shot had more wellie yet only found the filthy murk rather than the back of the mesh.
The game started to bubble up, Road's Morgan was in again, a shot and save the result, Abbey Hey responded, a sugar-sweet free-kick was flying into the corner and from out of the blue a world class save was executed with an outreaching mitt just denying the golden goal. A stunning moment. The resultant corner was a peach, alas every bonse missed it but luckily a ricochet bounded over and the hosts could breathe a sigh of relief. Another thumping shot came before the break, low and firm but Road's guardian of the mesh was equal to it. End to end stuff ensued, some real swift breaks had that just lacked the final assassins stroke - the ref blew, somehow we were all square at the break.
A decent half and me and my comrade, STP Stu, mulled over the match whilst quaffing a fine cup of cha' - by heck it goes darn well!
An up-tempo start, a mis-judged ball by a Road bod was latched onto by Hey's No 10 who took full advantage and thundered toward goal. A quick pull back and a slippery surface combined to concoct an in-box foul and lo and behold a penalty strike was given. Harsh perhaps, unlucky for sure but No 8 (Sam Freakes) of Abbey Hey showed no mercy and thumped the ball home with great aplomb - he looked quite pleased with himself as he ran back to his own half. The pace now quickened, Road were in a shit or bust situation. They picked up well, a corner was connected with but had no wallop, several balls in caused chaos but didn't fall right and a handball shout was even backed up by the distant netman which was to no avail and came with a touchline response of him 'having better eyes than a kestrel'. Classic. More Road pressure saw the solid Hey's keeper punch clear with authoritative sanguinity before impetus was broken after two absolutely dire free-kicks. A foul on a Hey's player brought another comedic off-pitch shout to the referee which informed him that 'cataract operations are quite simple these days', ha, ha - choice indeed.
Time now ticked, the visitors were getting pushed back when from the gloomy depths the legs of Road's Jack Poxon came into contact with the ball, set about a surge then let loose one almighty punt. All eyes looked on, the keeper lunged with all his might - too late squire, the scorcher was unstoppable and a great goal leveled this one in magnificent style. A net rippling beauty - applause and hollers were justifiably generous. Road now heaved with intent, a shot went just wide, a brace of corners were too low to cause consternation and then Hey's No 10 exposed sound strength, made room and released - the shot was underfed and the legs of the sprawling keeper did their bit. A last gasp from both squads came and the ref finally blew - crikey, this is a tough one, extra time it is.
A brief rest (for the players that is) and we were in the additional period. Road had an early corner that was efficiently nutted clear, the looping shot put back was just over - promising indeed. Another tear up for the Blues, silky smooth and finalised with a shot - again an assured save was made. The fast action was incessant, long punts, midfield mania and flung bodies - all we needed was a further goal. The ball was moving at speed and players were now getting tired and overreaching, the result of this was a midfield clash that looked quite innocuous. The Road player got up and dusted himself down the Hey bod lay prostrate and looked to be making a meal of matters, Not so, the injury, as it transpired, was a serious one and after several minutes delay an ambulance was called and the game was abandoned. Thoughts turned to the player's welfare and all one could wish was that he was given the best treatment and helped to make a speedy recovery. A disappointing end that put things into perspective and I am sure everyone's best wishes are with the clattered player. Good luck Adam Hampshire - see you on a pitch soon squire. Man of the Match is a difficult one as it was a hustle and bustle affair with much good work thrown in. For me the No 8 for Abbey Hey (Sam Freakes) looked cultured, controlled and always had a little extra time on the ball - always a sign of quality. The penalty was icing on the cake and a sign of a calm interior that was very much needed on a hectic night.
FINAL THOUGHT - Only a fool would place a bet on the replay between these two teams because, on tonight's evidence, there is less between these teams then the space found between the crack of Fatima Whitbread's arse cheeks. They are perfectly matched in each and every department, pace wise, commitment wise and talent wise - this is a match made for the bookmakers and if you must have a punt then may the Devil puncture your rear with his trident of indecision and help your money disappear in the great void that is there to teach thee a lesson. I hope I can get to the re-match and we get more of the same intriguing action but most of all I hope, all is played in the right spirit, remains injury free and Adam Hampshire is fighting fit mighty soon and play's his part in a pure thriller.
The familiar trill of the whistle came, this FA cup replay was under way - the start was equally competitive on a chip pan surface nicely kissed by the late summer mists. Abbey Hey had the initial upper hand with a passing game that was slightly more fluent than their opponents who were steaming hard but yet to find any cohesion. An early free-kick by the guests was deflected over with the corner producing a nut goalward but off target. Intent exposed and The Road were inspired to counter with several follow-up breaks, the best of which saw their No 7 weave and let fly a shot which forced the keeper to stand firm and make a routine but effective save. From the corner the pressure was upheld with the ever-ready No 8 (Matthew Morgan) doing his usual efficient and mightily effective dashing around the park. The game soon re-balanced though but Road's high defensive position was making matters difficult for their opponents with very little light at the end of a mizzled tunnel. Out of the murk the home crew came again, Matthew Morgan was the beneficiary of a free-kick which he duly struck with looping class only to be denied by a marvelous save from a keeper on his toes. The ball hit the post, hung in suspended animation before being hoofed clear by a defending chap determined to relieve the ranks. Minutes later a sexy flick and cross saw No 8 have the chance to shoot but it was a tame finish. A follow-up shot had more wellie yet only found the filthy murk rather than the back of the mesh.
The game started to bubble up, Road's Morgan was in again, a shot and save the result, Abbey Hey responded, a sugar-sweet free-kick was flying into the corner and from out of the blue a world class save was executed with an outreaching mitt just denying the golden goal. A stunning moment. The resultant corner was a peach, alas every bonse missed it but luckily a ricochet bounded over and the hosts could breathe a sigh of relief. Another thumping shot came before the break, low and firm but Road's guardian of the mesh was equal to it. End to end stuff ensued, some real swift breaks had that just lacked the final assassins stroke - the ref blew, somehow we were all square at the break.
A decent half and me and my comrade, STP Stu, mulled over the match whilst quaffing a fine cup of cha' - by heck it goes darn well!
An up-tempo start, a mis-judged ball by a Road bod was latched onto by Hey's No 10 who took full advantage and thundered toward goal. A quick pull back and a slippery surface combined to concoct an in-box foul and lo and behold a penalty strike was given. Harsh perhaps, unlucky for sure but No 8 (Sam Freakes) of Abbey Hey showed no mercy and thumped the ball home with great aplomb - he looked quite pleased with himself as he ran back to his own half. The pace now quickened, Road were in a shit or bust situation. They picked up well, a corner was connected with but had no wallop, several balls in caused chaos but didn't fall right and a handball shout was even backed up by the distant netman which was to no avail and came with a touchline response of him 'having better eyes than a kestrel'. Classic. More Road pressure saw the solid Hey's keeper punch clear with authoritative sanguinity before impetus was broken after two absolutely dire free-kicks. A foul on a Hey's player brought another comedic off-pitch shout to the referee which informed him that 'cataract operations are quite simple these days', ha, ha - choice indeed.
Time now ticked, the visitors were getting pushed back when from the gloomy depths the legs of Road's Jack Poxon came into contact with the ball, set about a surge then let loose one almighty punt. All eyes looked on, the keeper lunged with all his might - too late squire, the scorcher was unstoppable and a great goal leveled this one in magnificent style. A net rippling beauty - applause and hollers were justifiably generous. Road now heaved with intent, a shot went just wide, a brace of corners were too low to cause consternation and then Hey's No 10 exposed sound strength, made room and released - the shot was underfed and the legs of the sprawling keeper did their bit. A last gasp from both squads came and the ref finally blew - crikey, this is a tough one, extra time it is.
A brief rest (for the players that is) and we were in the additional period. Road had an early corner that was efficiently nutted clear, the looping shot put back was just over - promising indeed. Another tear up for the Blues, silky smooth and finalised with a shot - again an assured save was made. The fast action was incessant, long punts, midfield mania and flung bodies - all we needed was a further goal. The ball was moving at speed and players were now getting tired and overreaching, the result of this was a midfield clash that looked quite innocuous. The Road player got up and dusted himself down the Hey bod lay prostrate and looked to be making a meal of matters, Not so, the injury, as it transpired, was a serious one and after several minutes delay an ambulance was called and the game was abandoned. Thoughts turned to the player's welfare and all one could wish was that he was given the best treatment and helped to make a speedy recovery. A disappointing end that put things into perspective and I am sure everyone's best wishes are with the clattered player. Good luck Adam Hampshire - see you on a pitch soon squire. Man of the Match is a difficult one as it was a hustle and bustle affair with much good work thrown in. For me the No 8 for Abbey Hey (Sam Freakes) looked cultured, controlled and always had a little extra time on the ball - always a sign of quality. The penalty was icing on the cake and a sign of a calm interior that was very much needed on a hectic night.
FINAL THOUGHT - Only a fool would place a bet on the replay between these two teams because, on tonight's evidence, there is less between these teams then the space found between the crack of Fatima Whitbread's arse cheeks. They are perfectly matched in each and every department, pace wise, commitment wise and talent wise - this is a match made for the bookmakers and if you must have a punt then may the Devil puncture your rear with his trident of indecision and help your money disappear in the great void that is there to teach thee a lesson. I hope I can get to the re-match and we get more of the same intriguing action but most of all I hope, all is played in the right spirit, remains injury free and Adam Hampshire is fighting fit mighty soon and play's his part in a pure thriller.
Saturday 19 August 2017
RAD ALERT, BUT THE GREEN ARMY HOLD THEIR OWN
19th August 2017 - Radcliffe Borough 1 v 1 Burscough Town - FA Cup day for the DIY stalwarts and off to Stainton Park we went looking forward to seeing some high octane competition from two fresh and edacious outfits on the prowl for some under the radar success. We arrived in good time so spent an hour in the rain hammered car reading our current tomes 'Papillion' for the missus and 'The Short Stories of Somerset Maugham' for me as well as 'The Secret Life of Flies'. Into the draught we went, paid our dues and indulged in some fine tea. There were no chips on sale (the rotten sods) so I partook of a pasty. It was a good bit of jackbit so I lowered the rating of 'rotten sods' to just 'sods' - very Christian I thought even though I am a self-confessed gay Buddhist (I think). A chat with my good lady wife and a Burscough bod whom we have met several times and whose son was playing between the sticks - a ruddy nice gent and another chip connoisseur - I felt his sorrow when I told him the delicacy was not on sale. An old punk pirate turned up whom I hadn't seen for ages (good to see ya Smurf) and more wags of the jaw were enjoyed with another spiked 'erbert joining the mix. The teams warmed up, left the pitch and returned - and once more I set to scribbling whilst the players set to dribbling.
Radcliffe started patiently and looked mightily controlled and unflustered with a distinct effort to play the early possession game - something they did to great effect. Burscough were scampering and manged to cultivate the first shot when their efficient No 9 (Terry Cummings) ran well and knocked a nice low shot that was only denied triumph by the stretched pegs of the keeper (Ryan Jones). Seconds later the same front bod was in again, once again the lower extremities of the guardian of the mesh denied glory - gotta be fair, two decent blocks there. Pressure was returned as the Rad Lads threw several punts into the box placing their opponents on a worried back foot. A release valve was found via, yes you guessed it, Cummings again, who had a semi-penalty claim turned down at the last - it was worth a shout and could have gone the other way on another day!
The game now settled, no team was having it all their own way with a stunner rattled in by Burscough's No 7 (William Threlkeld) just flying high and Radcliffe's Sherlock finalising a move with a firm nut over the bar. This was a feisty match and I was pondering where the breakthrough would come from when the ball was allowed to ping around the guests' box and the defensive hesitancy brought peril via the feet of Raddy's Sherlock (who else) who saw space, twanged with intent and gave his team a very vital 1 - 0 lead. Well taken squire, well taken. Burscough didn't take this lying down, their response was admirable with the only shortcoming being the fact that they were just one millisecond off the pace of the ball. Radcliffe were comfortable in midfield, something the visitors needed to bear in mind for period 2. The latter end of the opening half was upon us, the Burscough boys had a brace of free-kicks - one against the wall, one hit into the Heavens - wasteful indeed. The price paid was nearly cruelty incarnate when Radcliffe's No 9 (bloody hell I am getting sick of this bugger) found time to release a low shot that was heading toward the corner but was neatly saved - phew. The ref blew soon after, a time to gather thoughts was upon us.
Another cuppa, this time the good lady had a pasty, she rated it highly, and more chits and chats were had.
The ball was soon rolling again, Burscough asking early questions and knocking a few probing balls into their opponents danger area. Radcliffe came on, some quick feet won a corner that was looped in and just nutted over. The other end and a pile-driving shot came, a cross and a miscue from No 8 (Joshua Dunroe) - poor end result but heaps of hope gathered. Radcliffe counter-punched, a well greased move saw an outstretched leg just miss a penetrating cross with a break by No 11 (Franny Barry) following and looking set to seal the result but a fine save was had and the match was still up for grabs. Without time to catch breath Radcliffe came again, their superb No 9 (this is getting silly now) turned with class, streaked away and hoofed in a great cross. Barry connected with a firm volley, the goal of the season thus far was on the cards but the darn ball wouldn't stay down and flew agonisingly over - wow. Another shot the same way soon after but it was straight at the goalkeeper, the heat was definitely rising, the home teams pistons were pumping on full. This was a cracking contest with both teams at it hammer and tongue (dirty bastards) and giving the punters full value for their hard-earned conkers (hard conkers can be a debilitating disease by the way). Once again No 9 of Raddy worked magic and allowed a chance to fall to his colleague who was only thwarted at the last by the keepers digit tips. A strong punt by Burscough's No 14 and a low effort by Rads No 8 made sure this game stayed aflame and all peepers in the ground dared not look away - ooh me pens on fire.
The final stages came, Radcliffe saw a one on one with the keeper end in a shot that flew just wide and then a shot deflected off target came and could easily have been so much more. Again the hosts' No 9 proved troublesome, provided another cross that led to a shot and a solid save - fine action. Next and a foul went Burscough's way, persistence was paying dividends and suddenly the ball was loose, Cummings grabbed it, he stayed calm and focused - bloody hell fire - 1- 1 - what a game. 2 shots came straight back, one saved, one over. 4 minutes left, I was low on nerve pills - a tame shot from the Raddies No 4 (Conor Ready) was dealt with by a very alert keeper - just as well as a winner at this stage would have been utterly unfair. At last the ref decided it was time, applause rang out - for me, and many others, a draw was a just result and good on both teams for providing a fine spectacle. Both teams exhibited many great performances today but throughout one man showed effortless class and was a constant thorn in the oppositions side. No 9 (Kurt Sherlock) of Radcliffe Borough FC played a belter today and was frightfully unlucky not to bag a couple more and offer up a few golden assists. One to watch this fella and all the best to him and he deserves a prize for a cracking name too - elementary in fact!
FINAL THOUGHT - A superb match this with many quality aspects that need highlighting. For one both teams got on with matters, I heard hardly anyone on the park moaning, there was no play acting and there was a resilience and professionalism not to be underestimated. For two, both squads worked like buggery and created a spectacle well worth the gate fee and with an honesty that far outweighs what any of that premier league shite displays. For the hat-trick I would like to mention the atmosphere of the ground itself and the many knowledgeable and friendly bods that were in attendance - it makes a grand difference to the whole escapade. A great day out and even though I am as busy as a bee on overtime, as flustered as one of Bruce Forsyth's syrup makers and as stretched as one of Tom Jones' face-lifts I am sure I can squeeze in time to see these two teams several times more this season - I ruddy hope so!
Radcliffe started patiently and looked mightily controlled and unflustered with a distinct effort to play the early possession game - something they did to great effect. Burscough were scampering and manged to cultivate the first shot when their efficient No 9 (Terry Cummings) ran well and knocked a nice low shot that was only denied triumph by the stretched pegs of the keeper (Ryan Jones). Seconds later the same front bod was in again, once again the lower extremities of the guardian of the mesh denied glory - gotta be fair, two decent blocks there. Pressure was returned as the Rad Lads threw several punts into the box placing their opponents on a worried back foot. A release valve was found via, yes you guessed it, Cummings again, who had a semi-penalty claim turned down at the last - it was worth a shout and could have gone the other way on another day!
The game now settled, no team was having it all their own way with a stunner rattled in by Burscough's No 7 (William Threlkeld) just flying high and Radcliffe's Sherlock finalising a move with a firm nut over the bar. This was a feisty match and I was pondering where the breakthrough would come from when the ball was allowed to ping around the guests' box and the defensive hesitancy brought peril via the feet of Raddy's Sherlock (who else) who saw space, twanged with intent and gave his team a very vital 1 - 0 lead. Well taken squire, well taken. Burscough didn't take this lying down, their response was admirable with the only shortcoming being the fact that they were just one millisecond off the pace of the ball. Radcliffe were comfortable in midfield, something the visitors needed to bear in mind for period 2. The latter end of the opening half was upon us, the Burscough boys had a brace of free-kicks - one against the wall, one hit into the Heavens - wasteful indeed. The price paid was nearly cruelty incarnate when Radcliffe's No 9 (bloody hell I am getting sick of this bugger) found time to release a low shot that was heading toward the corner but was neatly saved - phew. The ref blew soon after, a time to gather thoughts was upon us.
Another cuppa, this time the good lady had a pasty, she rated it highly, and more chits and chats were had.
The ball was soon rolling again, Burscough asking early questions and knocking a few probing balls into their opponents danger area. Radcliffe came on, some quick feet won a corner that was looped in and just nutted over. The other end and a pile-driving shot came, a cross and a miscue from No 8 (Joshua Dunroe) - poor end result but heaps of hope gathered. Radcliffe counter-punched, a well greased move saw an outstretched leg just miss a penetrating cross with a break by No 11 (Franny Barry) following and looking set to seal the result but a fine save was had and the match was still up for grabs. Without time to catch breath Radcliffe came again, their superb No 9 (this is getting silly now) turned with class, streaked away and hoofed in a great cross. Barry connected with a firm volley, the goal of the season thus far was on the cards but the darn ball wouldn't stay down and flew agonisingly over - wow. Another shot the same way soon after but it was straight at the goalkeeper, the heat was definitely rising, the home teams pistons were pumping on full. This was a cracking contest with both teams at it hammer and tongue (dirty bastards) and giving the punters full value for their hard-earned conkers (hard conkers can be a debilitating disease by the way). Once again No 9 of Raddy worked magic and allowed a chance to fall to his colleague who was only thwarted at the last by the keepers digit tips. A strong punt by Burscough's No 14 and a low effort by Rads No 8 made sure this game stayed aflame and all peepers in the ground dared not look away - ooh me pens on fire.
The final stages came, Radcliffe saw a one on one with the keeper end in a shot that flew just wide and then a shot deflected off target came and could easily have been so much more. Again the hosts' No 9 proved troublesome, provided another cross that led to a shot and a solid save - fine action. Next and a foul went Burscough's way, persistence was paying dividends and suddenly the ball was loose, Cummings grabbed it, he stayed calm and focused - bloody hell fire - 1- 1 - what a game. 2 shots came straight back, one saved, one over. 4 minutes left, I was low on nerve pills - a tame shot from the Raddies No 4 (Conor Ready) was dealt with by a very alert keeper - just as well as a winner at this stage would have been utterly unfair. At last the ref decided it was time, applause rang out - for me, and many others, a draw was a just result and good on both teams for providing a fine spectacle. Both teams exhibited many great performances today but throughout one man showed effortless class and was a constant thorn in the oppositions side. No 9 (Kurt Sherlock) of Radcliffe Borough FC played a belter today and was frightfully unlucky not to bag a couple more and offer up a few golden assists. One to watch this fella and all the best to him and he deserves a prize for a cracking name too - elementary in fact!
FINAL THOUGHT - A superb match this with many quality aspects that need highlighting. For one both teams got on with matters, I heard hardly anyone on the park moaning, there was no play acting and there was a resilience and professionalism not to be underestimated. For two, both squads worked like buggery and created a spectacle well worth the gate fee and with an honesty that far outweighs what any of that premier league shite displays. For the hat-trick I would like to mention the atmosphere of the ground itself and the many knowledgeable and friendly bods that were in attendance - it makes a grand difference to the whole escapade. A great day out and even though I am as busy as a bee on overtime, as flustered as one of Bruce Forsyth's syrup makers and as stretched as one of Tom Jones' face-lifts I am sure I can squeeze in time to see these two teams several times more this season - I ruddy hope so!
Thursday 17 August 2017
CHEADLE SHOT DOWN
16th August 2017 - Cheadle Town 1 v 2 Alsager Town - Another midweek match, this one following a day of work, some drawing of fungal spores and a sort through the moth trap - tis all par for the course for the amateur naturalist. Cheadle Town are the most local team to me, in fact they are only a 15 minute walk away so I suppose you could call me a fan but, I am an awkward spiked cuss and am a fan of all the non-league teams I watch and turn up to each and every match utterly neutral (no not neutered - I like me knackers). It is a fine state of affairs and although I do have a preference for certain grounds I always leave a match happy if both units have bared their balls, perspired blood and blistered their tootsies in pursuit of the leathered globe. Tonight the home grown greens faced the boldness of the Bullets, would they get shot down or force a backfire that would rupture the early prospects of the guests - here is what actually transpired!
Cheadle provided good early pressure with a shot, a corner and a few tidy moves all culminating in a kick back from the guests in red. No 11 (Joshua Glover) for the guests was a potential menace and used quick feet to earn a free-kick and re-balance the game. The idea behind the bonus punt was solid but alas, the execution was limp. From here though Alsager blossomed brightest with the hosts looking decidedly fragile and indecisive at the rear. A pattern was set - Alsager opted to push, Cheadle to absorb and try and sneak a break. There wasn't much to scribble home about in these early stages and the game certainly needed a good greasing up and a finger up its jacksie. Eventually it was the visitors who advanced with promise after their No 10 (Michael Lennon) produced some excellent work along the flank, weaved in from the corner and crossed with the concrete noggin of his comrade Glover, nutting home a strong looping header. 0 - 1 we were, just what the soccerised quack prescribed - now let's have it. Cheadle needed a quick response, their No 8 (Daniel Wood) showed optimism and let loose a shot, unfortunately it rose over the crossbar - worth a dig though!
Disputed decisions came next and a heap of pointless bitching that blighted any chance of game development. We hit a cruddy patch, a real messy affair laden with mistakes, loose passes and just rusted rhythm. It was a testing affair and perhaps the diaries of Kenneth Williams had more positivity in them than this game - ooh matron, stop it. Having hit the doldrums a high point came when an Alsager bod popped up and delivered a honey coated shot that was only denied by an equally sweet save - maybe there is hope of a decent game after all. Next and some beautiful link-up liquidity from the home lads was cruelly halted and a card was posted the way of Lewis Bergin. Cheadle were showing good spirit during a bad patch and although the free-kick was straight at the gloved man between the sticks there was a definite belief rising in the gut of the greens. The dying embers of a duff half came, for me the home team were cultivating some fair pressure but all impetus was banished when the man in black blew for the break.
Yoghurt Raisins and some Clementine juice for me and a browse of a book on Edgar Degas - a fine artist who, if creating a picture of tonight's game would be struggling to find any real colour thus far - we need the palette spilled, we need some impressionist abandonment with the end result something quite classy. I pondered and then heard the clatter of boots coming down a tunnel - here come the combatants.
Half 2, the traps are open, Cheadle are sharp but the first attempt on goal with any real venom comes the way of the A's with a firm crack and swerve from the substitute making sure the keeper held his concentration to block. The travelers were having the best of things with several promise-heavy balls just falling short of the killer stroke, The hosts needed to stay focused and did just that when they produced a pearling pass that was connected with and humped goalward by Chris Sherringham, just wide. A free-kick followed, this time for Alsager, the defending was dire the header that came should have buried the game as a contest. The Town came back with their own free-kick - no takers, way too high. A Cheadle sub came, it gave birth to a green improvement, a break was had but thwarted and then a silky passing move was had but was still denied glory at the death. There was an impetus rising and warning bells ringing when, on the 69th minute Hincks opened the defense with a fine ball that was collared and crossed whereupon Michael Sherrington dillied and dallied and yet somehow forced the ball in the waiting net - all square folks, and now for a gear shift.
Now the Park Road pack had their tails up and they were mightily unlucky when Michael Sherrington couldn't bring the pacey ball under control and do better than the shot that was easily saved by the keeper. Moments later he was through again but mis-controlled and the keeper cleared. Cheadle were on the up but to keep them sober Alsager's Sub (Remeece Brown) broke with high tempo and was clipped by the keeper and impeded by a defender. The advantage was played, came to nothing and a booking was given - how odd? It was end to end stuff now, Cheadle's sub had a chance to fire but was tackled at the last and as the home team tried to get those 3 points and pushed further forward the ball somehow ended up back at the tootsies of Alsager's Remeece Brown. He went on a mission, weaved inside and saw a glimpse of goal. He opened his body, swung his boot and the ball stayed low, swung in and found the bottom corner. It was a decisive moment and after a few more minutes proved to be the winning moment too. I thought a draw was on the cards when things became all square but if a goal was going to snatch a win then this was a deserving effort.
This wasn't a great game if truth be told and there were some very hit and miss performances but, I think (Aaron Fleming) of Cheadle Town displayed enough quality and high potential to just sneak the Man of the Match Award tonight. In the first half particularly he was one of the brightest beacons in a fog of despair and in the second half he worked and ran well to keep his team competitive.
FINAL THOUGHT - Ring-rust is a bugger to shake off and both these units look to still be displaying laboring symptoms. This was hardly a spectacle of lofty entertainment and during the last moments of the game anyone could have grabbed the win. Cheadle have had a big turn-over of players and that obviously knocks the stuffing out of a team but I am sure they will be mid-table or even higher come next April. Alsager have some hefty gits in their tribe but perhaps need a bit more pace here and there, as supplied by Remeece Brown who, as it transpired, made a mighty difference. I think this lot will be hovering around the peripheries of the play-offs come season end but...between now and then a whole lotta sweat needs pouring in - we shall see!
Cheadle provided good early pressure with a shot, a corner and a few tidy moves all culminating in a kick back from the guests in red. No 11 (Joshua Glover) for the guests was a potential menace and used quick feet to earn a free-kick and re-balance the game. The idea behind the bonus punt was solid but alas, the execution was limp. From here though Alsager blossomed brightest with the hosts looking decidedly fragile and indecisive at the rear. A pattern was set - Alsager opted to push, Cheadle to absorb and try and sneak a break. There wasn't much to scribble home about in these early stages and the game certainly needed a good greasing up and a finger up its jacksie. Eventually it was the visitors who advanced with promise after their No 10 (Michael Lennon) produced some excellent work along the flank, weaved in from the corner and crossed with the concrete noggin of his comrade Glover, nutting home a strong looping header. 0 - 1 we were, just what the soccerised quack prescribed - now let's have it. Cheadle needed a quick response, their No 8 (Daniel Wood) showed optimism and let loose a shot, unfortunately it rose over the crossbar - worth a dig though!
Disputed decisions came next and a heap of pointless bitching that blighted any chance of game development. We hit a cruddy patch, a real messy affair laden with mistakes, loose passes and just rusted rhythm. It was a testing affair and perhaps the diaries of Kenneth Williams had more positivity in them than this game - ooh matron, stop it. Having hit the doldrums a high point came when an Alsager bod popped up and delivered a honey coated shot that was only denied by an equally sweet save - maybe there is hope of a decent game after all. Next and some beautiful link-up liquidity from the home lads was cruelly halted and a card was posted the way of Lewis Bergin. Cheadle were showing good spirit during a bad patch and although the free-kick was straight at the gloved man between the sticks there was a definite belief rising in the gut of the greens. The dying embers of a duff half came, for me the home team were cultivating some fair pressure but all impetus was banished when the man in black blew for the break.
Yoghurt Raisins and some Clementine juice for me and a browse of a book on Edgar Degas - a fine artist who, if creating a picture of tonight's game would be struggling to find any real colour thus far - we need the palette spilled, we need some impressionist abandonment with the end result something quite classy. I pondered and then heard the clatter of boots coming down a tunnel - here come the combatants.
Half 2, the traps are open, Cheadle are sharp but the first attempt on goal with any real venom comes the way of the A's with a firm crack and swerve from the substitute making sure the keeper held his concentration to block. The travelers were having the best of things with several promise-heavy balls just falling short of the killer stroke, The hosts needed to stay focused and did just that when they produced a pearling pass that was connected with and humped goalward by Chris Sherringham, just wide. A free-kick followed, this time for Alsager, the defending was dire the header that came should have buried the game as a contest. The Town came back with their own free-kick - no takers, way too high. A Cheadle sub came, it gave birth to a green improvement, a break was had but thwarted and then a silky passing move was had but was still denied glory at the death. There was an impetus rising and warning bells ringing when, on the 69th minute Hincks opened the defense with a fine ball that was collared and crossed whereupon Michael Sherrington dillied and dallied and yet somehow forced the ball in the waiting net - all square folks, and now for a gear shift.
Now the Park Road pack had their tails up and they were mightily unlucky when Michael Sherrington couldn't bring the pacey ball under control and do better than the shot that was easily saved by the keeper. Moments later he was through again but mis-controlled and the keeper cleared. Cheadle were on the up but to keep them sober Alsager's Sub (Remeece Brown) broke with high tempo and was clipped by the keeper and impeded by a defender. The advantage was played, came to nothing and a booking was given - how odd? It was end to end stuff now, Cheadle's sub had a chance to fire but was tackled at the last and as the home team tried to get those 3 points and pushed further forward the ball somehow ended up back at the tootsies of Alsager's Remeece Brown. He went on a mission, weaved inside and saw a glimpse of goal. He opened his body, swung his boot and the ball stayed low, swung in and found the bottom corner. It was a decisive moment and after a few more minutes proved to be the winning moment too. I thought a draw was on the cards when things became all square but if a goal was going to snatch a win then this was a deserving effort.
This wasn't a great game if truth be told and there were some very hit and miss performances but, I think (Aaron Fleming) of Cheadle Town displayed enough quality and high potential to just sneak the Man of the Match Award tonight. In the first half particularly he was one of the brightest beacons in a fog of despair and in the second half he worked and ran well to keep his team competitive.
FINAL THOUGHT - Ring-rust is a bugger to shake off and both these units look to still be displaying laboring symptoms. This was hardly a spectacle of lofty entertainment and during the last moments of the game anyone could have grabbed the win. Cheadle have had a big turn-over of players and that obviously knocks the stuffing out of a team but I am sure they will be mid-table or even higher come next April. Alsager have some hefty gits in their tribe but perhaps need a bit more pace here and there, as supplied by Remeece Brown who, as it transpired, made a mighty difference. I think this lot will be hovering around the peripheries of the play-offs come season end but...between now and then a whole lotta sweat needs pouring in - we shall see!
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