Sunday 26 November 2017

BOTTOMS UP

25th November 2017 - St Helens Town FC 2 v 3  FC Oswestry Town - Sometimes in life there comes a succession of niggles that really test the patience, I am on such a roll.  My computer had been pissing about for a month or so and has finally blown, I am still not sorted and much data needs re-jigging despite a £65 bill.  On top of this the car has been in for service, and today the house roof started leaking and dripped on the keyboard of the replacement computer. When I plugged it in the letter 'G' wasn't working - ooh my griping gonads - or should that be ' ooh my riping onads' - who cares, all I know is I felt like shitting my pants with ill temper and headbutting the local vicar just for the hell of it. The floodlight failure at a match this week got on my tits too and the weather is about as kind as Robert Mugabe during Children in Need week.  A few phone calls and arrangements were made to have the roof looked at over the coming days, in the meantime we had a choice - stop in and suck eggs or go to the footy and lose ourselves in the game we love.  Packed, out, 45 minutes later we were at the bar at Ruskin Drive and purchasing tea and chips.  Into the ground, perched up and the food and drink went down mighty well.  Mentally I was still twitching, it was up to the teams to ease the tetchiness.  If this was a bad match my underpants were gonna be put under some extreme pressure I can tell ya. The squads came, me and wife snuggled up, we were duly warmed by a fine match that went like this:- 

On the 4G pitch the game began, hail started falling, the initial play saw the St Helens' lads push up and it was a long ball from the rear that opened up the opponents defence like a screwdriver jabbed into a tin of Bartletts pears.  No 7 (Alex Ashby) captured the globe, cut in and shot low and firm.  The ball moved at mid-pace but it had such accuracy the sprawling keeper could only look behind him and see the far corner of the net gently ripple - what a tidy take.  The Oswestry boys responded, No 7 (Jacob Farleigh) galloped forth, won a free punt which was duly thumped over but exhibited the fact that the O's would not lay down - good effort. The Saints responded in kind with Ashby menacing and after claiming the ball from a bonus boot put a firm cross in that was only just cleared.  The visiting tribe put a good passing sequence together next that saw good work all round and No 4 (Jack Harris) wander through and release - he was mightily disappointed not to hit the target.  Back we went to the opposite end of the pitch, a quick move saw No 9 (Shaun Brady) flash in a good dig.  The ball was deflected and a corner given which was taken but of quite shabby quality - hey ho, back to the drawing board.


Now the Oswestry lads put in a concerted effort to level matters, another eye-catching build up and No 8 (Sam Thomas) delivered a dipper that stubbornly stayed too high.  Farleigh followed up with a range finder that the mitter easily gathered in but one could sense a goal on the cards. It was within seconds of these thoughts another bout of smooth play came via the tootsies of the travelers with the end result seeing Jack Harris sneak in and finish with a ice cool technique. This was turning into an enthralling affair with both teams playing some decent on-the deck football and trying to do so with composure kept.  A settled period followed, both teams just lacking the executioners cold-hearted touch.  Unexpectedly, after an innocuous challenge a free kick was given to the the home bods.  The ball was played and some marvellous work by No 11 (Luke Edwards) on the flank saw some in box havoc.  A touch in, a touch out, back in, back out, shake it all about and then...No 9 (Shaun Brady) maintained his head and slotted home, the lead had been regained, could the guys on the back foot respond? Oswestry duly answered the question when No 3 (Lewis Jarman) was involved in a one-two, upended and given a gratis punt.  No 11 (Stuart Vernon) stepped up and humped the ball toward goal, alas the crossbar wasn't high enough and we stayed as we were.  Good feet by Edwards at the other end and the free award was hit on target but without spite.  Towards the latter end the O's had a couple more cracks, one was via a silky move that saw Harris produce a rasper.  The save that came was of an eye-catching standard.  St Helens had one last chance, a long ball found Ashby who was clean through.  He decided to rush and strike early, that was a shocking miss and may come back to haunt his team.

Half-time - we swigged ginger and ate Toblerone, it was too cold to wander so we huddled up like 2 Starlings on a telegraph pole - our feathers had been ruffled by the days gripes but we were enjoying this one nonetheless, a good distraction.

The first chance of the second period came via the home No 9 (Shaun Brady) who really should have done better than he did but, within two flicks of a Tasmanian Devils titty, he was in again, this time with a stonking chance of burying the game.  Alas a certain goal shy sensation struck him down, he dillied and dallied and when he did dig in the chance was duly suppressed.  A corner followed, No 10's (Thomas Grimshaw) overhead was audacious and too high, worth a gamble though.  The guests were being kept on the back foot, several host heads being constant thorns in the scampering side.  The Saints created a fast fluid move, a clinical pass followed and Grimshaw placed his shot with care.  The bottom corner gaped and beckoned, the fingers of the diving keeper got just enough on the ball to make for a quality save.  Oswestry now used this moment as a catalyst, found the net but saw the offside rule quell their joy.  After surviving 2 sharp corners they came again, Farleigh was playing well and picked up matters, threaded in and let fly.  The ball was deflected, it fell at the feet of No 9 (Christopher Bishop) who tapped home with gratitude.  All square and St Helens were lucky not to be behind when nanoseconds later Farleigh nipped in again, had another effort and just missed the upright.

All to play for now and into the last 20 minutes we went.  No 4 (Daniel Lomax) for St Helens tried to lob the keeper from halfway but was a couple of feet from memorable glory and that pesky visiting Farleigh was being a constant nuisance and liable to create a winner at anytime. Out of a transient lull Oswestry won a corner. The ball whizzed in, head contact was firm and bang - 3 - 2 - No 8 (Sam Thomas) the man with the golden touch.  7 minutes were left, The Saints fought hard, Oswestry were solid, Ashby for the hosts had a late chance, the shot was dragged wide, concluding a tale of missed chances that, as it turned out, cost so much.  The referee blew, this had been a good do folks and No 7 (Jacob Farleigh) of FC Oswestry gets my choice of man of the match due to his speedy work, pitch coverage and just all round problematic performance.

FINAL THOUGHT - The title of this report reflect my thoughts of the teams on show - how on earth they are in the bottom half of the table is beyond me and if they keep playing football as I witnessed today surely the only way is up.  The footballing existence can be a cruel thing at times  - I mean just look at the nasty tricks that have been pulled over the years - Emlyn Hughes' voice, Peter Nobles' hair and Garth Crook's gut - what a terribly unfair world it is but man, to have these two squads in the mire and see them get undue reward for their efforts is tantamount to insulting.  Having said this, FC Oswestry appear to be on a roll and may soon be clear of the drop but St Helens are getting a duff deal and they may have to make some harsh decisions over the coming months or stick at their game plan and cross their digits of destiny. Then again, if the manager spends a night in a Premier Inn with Satan, the ground staff sacrifice their souls to Count Dickula the Vampire Nob or indeed if the guy selling programmes ate several babies and sacrificed his missus to the biggest demon of them all, Jimmius Savillius, a turn of good fortune may be had.  Personally I'd stick to your guns and see what comes, far easier on the conscience, and the backside I hear.

Thursday 23 November 2017

BULLET PROOF

22nd November 2017 - Cheadle Town 2 v 1 Alsager Town  - After a 4 day break from work I was back at it today and after cycling home in the rain I was piss-wet through and highly mud-flecked.  I think that if I would have stood down wind whilst a nude curry laden Hattie Jacques broke wind in my face I would have been less splattered - I looked like a freckled Duncan Goodhew although I do have pubic hair and lack the anal gills (or is this all rumour).  A quick change after some more exercising, tidying up, preparing tea and my good lady came home and we exchanged news of the day.  We indulged in some shite TV, had tea, checked the web waves to see if the match was still on and I duly set out into the manky wanky night air.  A chat on the gate to the keeper of the coinage, a wander to the seating area and I awaited the two groups of combatants who were going to take part in this 2nd round Macron Cup Match.  My thoughts were of a close encounter with the away team having slight favour before kick off.  Either way I reckoned on a good value exhibition as I am quite optimistic prior to all these matches I attend, one can blame simpleness or a stout heart of hope - make yer own minds up.  And to add, after last night's fiasco at Abbey Hey where, after 1 minute of football we were all cast into darkness and duly sent home, I had every right to don the attire of a pessimist and wear a a sandwich board for tonight's match claiming 'the end is shite'.  So you see, I do have my good points!

The early advances came the way of the Alsager heads with Cheadle looking initially unsettled at the back.  Having said this, it was the home team who cultivated the first break, a lovely move culminating in a threaded ball that dissected the defensive areas of Alsager and allowed No 9 (Jake Ambrose) to latch on and strike - alas for the home bods the save was rock solid.  End to end events followed, both teams looking capable of getting an early strike.  A wild crack from Alsager flew into the night murk and then suddenly The Town went on a marauding push with No 11 (Chris Sherrington) coasting the wing and releasing across.  A defensive blunder put the ball on a plate for any wannabe takers and up stepped No 10 (Rick Whyatt) to gratefully accept the gift and firmly slapped homeward.  From here Alsager sought to respond and did so with a free kick that was thumped in and ended in another shot that whizzed too high of the bar.  Cheadle now passed with patience, just that last cross/pass was being rushed.  Alsager moved forth, No 7 and No 11 put in some good work with a shot eventually coming via Lennon and a good save had.  The corner was crap, the long range shot just after a lot better but not on target.  On the 26th minute Cheadle won a corner, Sherrington swung the ball in and the crust of Ambrose made a little too much contact and the ball flew over from mere inches out.

A sticky patch with reckless defending at either end almost causing full on chaos and the second strike of the night.  Out of this testing mire the Alsager mittman made a howling clearance and Cheadle were two on one.  Whyatt and Ambrose, passed, paused, passed and paused - when an effort did come a golden opportunity was gone, would this be rued later in the game?  The Green Army probed once more, Whyatt on a weaving run that saw him eventually up-ended.  The free kick was taken by Sherrington who swung in a curler with pace, it was somehow just tipped around the post.  The corner came, several passes and a low drive in saw No 7 (Clarey) suffer ill fortune as the ball would just not squeeze home.  Alsager had one last flourish, ball in and the goalie was flapping but the end shot was deflected and we were done.

A bit of tension spilled over as heated words were exchanged as the teams left the pitch.  Cheadle had got beneath the skin of their opponents and duly rattled their cage - the pushing, shoving and Cro-Magnon language revealed so much and the question arose - could Cheadle Town handle the heat or would the pan of promised success bubble over and burn their balls to kingdom come - pinnies at the ready!  I stretched and chewed a few mints and contemplated matters, tis all testosterone, tossology and twattery if the truth be known - all I want is a good competitive game played with head down focus and hard fought fairness - we shall see!

Alsager started boldest, a chest out forthright effort that saw a close in header that sent out an early red light warning.  The rain now fell with greater force and the surface was greasier than Boris Johnson's chat up lines, would this have a genuine effect on proceedings?  A few yellow cards were issued, tasty tackles were being added to the night's menu and a perilous situation for all was had.  A great passing sequence by The Bullets saw their No 11 set his sights and release, the shot missed my the breadth of a rhino's love rod.  Cheadle's resilience was admirable, they needed every man standing but out of the increasing murk a loose ball was up for grabs and it was unlucky to see No 8 (Aaron Fleming) of the hosts arrive a little too late and receive a red card for his efforts - shit does indeed happen.  Cheadle surprisingly found renewed vigour from this set-back and pushed on.  A move came, a shout from the terraces pleaded for a foul, the referee allowed play to go on.  The ball was eventually passed and the night's substitute Callum Collinson drilled home from the angle.  2 - 0 and in truth well deserved.

The A's dug in, No 8 (Matthew German) had a low blazer nicely saved by an ever-ready netter.  Moments later, the striker of the ball on goal threw himself into a  tackle and received orders to go and cool off in the showers.  He looked miff, he had been wound up all night and his banging and clattering in the changing rooms was hardly the way to react - embarrassing to say the least with his side let down and thrown onto the back foot.  Moments after this incident Cheadle could have slammed the door shut on any Alsager hopes but Sherrington was sloppy and blazed way over.  The game was now nearly done, Alsager hassled, Cheadle hindered but, as the visitors made a last gasp effort at glory and gained in-the-box possession an ungainly tackle came and a penalty was awarded.  Up stepped No 3 (Kyle Stubbs) and thwack, 2 - 1 it was - were we in for a big finish?  Alas the referee said 'no' and blew his whistle - well who would have predicted this one.  A good game in trying conditions and the Man of the Match goes to Cheadle Town's No 10 (Rick Whyatt) for his all-round endeavour, ruddy hard work and persistent pestering of the rear guard - a decent stint if ever I saw one.

FINAL THOUGHT - A game that saw one team start poorly and eventually let frustration eat away at their resolve and another team pinch an early goal and show a determination and work rate not to be denied.  The key to winning these close encounters is to keep the head down, work like a dog and not get dragged into extraneous incidents that will interfere with the focus.  Like a potential pervert out and about with his binoculars looking for a spot of wildlife to deflect his thoughts.  Suddenly he comes across a pair of meddling lovers having a wriggle in the woods, he knows he shouldn't look but he does and as a result his target for the day is ruined.  Keep the eyes on the job, not on the nob - so sayeth Confucius the Third, former resident of Batley and Broadmoor but a lover of football.  I enjoyed this one and tootled off home to have a jam butty and a cup of cha' - grand stuff lad, grand!

Monday 20 November 2017

PAIN ROAD AS BOOTLE BOOM

18th November 2017 - Maine Road 0 v 4 Bootle FC  - The embryonic snuffles of a cold are getting on my wick at the mo and a lug is playing up after years of noise laden endeavour - what a crock I am becoming!  The morn was spent tidying, doing a bit of my latest book, sorting a few resupinate fungi (man they ain't easy to identify) and keeping active to ease some aching joints.  My good lady had picked the young un' up as she was back from London University for a couple of days to watch a dance show (that's the evenings entertainment sorted then).  After a shopping trip they kindly dropped me at football while they had another lasses excursion in search of treats.  I was wrapped up warm as I didn't want to add 'winter willy wither' to my previous list of complaints, tis called common sense I hear (a very rare commodity I have seldom used - hence the physical gripes).  I expected a close one today and Maine Road to defy their recent dip in form and put the wind up the rear of a very decent Bootle squad.  My expectations were built of a foundation of 'the nonsensical' so anyone  placing a bet based on my thoughts is best labelled a 'twat'.  So, keep your money in your pockets peeps and enjoy the following report, I try my best don't ya know!

A perky start saw No 10 (Andrew Gillespie) for the travellers have a shot within seconds of the kick-off - it blazed across goal and needed no real defending.  Bootle were passing well from the off but it was route one stuff that saw goalie play to defender who threaded to No 9 (Stephen Milne) at the front who dabbled and just missed - it was worth a dig.  The start was tepid somewhat and it took a while for any semblance of domination to manifest itself.  Quick feet from Road's No 8 (Jack Langford) were impressive and led to space being found and a shot let loose.  The ball was dragged wide and little did we know that this was one of the rare glimpses of goal the home team would get all afternoon.  As the leaden skies turned darker Bootle were patient and happy to try and construct from the rear.  From the dull pregnant loins of Mother Match the guests won a free-kick that was put in, punted out and hoofed goalward by No 8 (Liam Loughlin).  It was a tame effort and off target - our spirits remained dampened.  Midfield was where the action was taking place, a mis-header by Road's No 6 (Rory Breslin) and Milne of Bootle burst in and tried to break the deadlock only to be denied by the netman who as well spread and saved the day thus far.  The pressure now rose, a corner followed, all heads missed and a shot eventually came.  The deflection was acute as well as cruel and a strike was had, No 7 (Kieran Halligan) being the joyous claimant.

Bootle were the quicker team all round and were showing a sharper desire and a greater coherence between each player, Road looked out of sync and desperately needed a stroke of luck to alter the flow.  Bootle again, Milne had a close in shot that was reckless and was met with a response from the MR lads with a free kick that found Breslin's bonse.  The nutted ball had no real sting and the goalkeeper caught with comparative ease.   Bootle reacted, a shot was deflected and a corner given.  The ball swung in, went out and a free-kick followed.  In went the globe, Halligan connected but again No 1 (Ryan Livesey) threw himself low and blocked the attempt.  A free-kick the other end found the free nugget of No 11 ....., the outcome was absolutely appalling and it was a golden opportunity wasted.  From here the half trickled on and was eventually halted, there was only one team in it, but you just never know.

I had a wander, a bag of crisps and found some Swine-Cress at the side of the pitch.  10 Ring Necked Parakeets flew over, I hoped the second half would have more color than the birds impressive plumage.

A hard working start came to the second period with Bootle obviously up for more.  Road looked for any fleeting fissure of illuminating hope and as the sky turned black so did their fortunes.  A long ball for the away team, No 2 (Matthew Loughlan) displayed good strength and fed a colleague who crossed and allowed Gillespie to squeeze the ball home...just!  The home army were now getting pushed back but managed to put together a promising passage of passing play.  No 11 (Josh Winthrop) was involved and produced a dazzling move that saw a following shot breeze wide.  The ball went up the other end, Milne connected in a danger free zone and went on a charge.  The defenders were standing off and allowed the striker to cut a shot back that resulted in the struck sphere staying low and just sneaking in at the far post - it was a quite gratifying goal.  

The Bucks now cemented their command, No 6 (Paul Woolcott) was supplying some exquisite touches and Loughlan on the wing was forever in space and highlighting once again Maine Road's lack of width.  A screaming mitter failed to raise the home sides spirits and when a long range effort from Milne whizzed over the bar it was more than apparent the visitors wanted to add more polish to the end shine.  Milne forced the issue again, he outstripped a defender who really should have cleared matters up and the shot that followed was luckily saved by a still alert netman.  The possession game followed, MR needed to call upon an exorcist to banish the demons they were now obviously suffering from.  Corners aplenty, neat one touch play and a cross that found the bonse of Gillespie who saw the shaved ball just miss the far stick.  Within seconds the Bucks pinged the ball from left to right, a lay off was executed and No 11 (Connor Ellis-Pratt) had all the time in the world, shot low and grabbed the 4th of the day - job done.  The half now progressed, the home side were frustrated by their lack of options, the away team were happy to protect the ball and play without rush.  Before the final peep of the whistle the home No 9 (Jack Coop) had a rare pot shot at goal, it went way off target, it summed up the squads day and when the referee ended the agony it was a blessing without disguise.  Bootle played a tidy game today and for me their No 7 (Kieran Haligan) deserved the Man of the Match choice. As industrious as Betty Boop in a knicker factory, as quick as a duck with diarrhoea and as troublesome as a pimple in the crack of the posterior this was an all round a good effort to be applauded...and applaud I do.

FINAL THOUGHT - 2 teams two situations are arising.  Maine Road are a struggling unit at the moment and need to find their feet real soon or will slip and fall into a relegation battle that could bring ultimate doom.  Too narrow, lacking urgency and with too many changes, the answer may be hard to find but they have some good players within the mix and there is still time to piss in the wind and make sure the resultant splash lands on the boots of the opponents rather than one's own.  Bootle are a well-crafted side and are a tight unit who will always pose problems for anyone who they face.  Tidy, well-drilled with good communication and several zipping players I reckon they will find themselves in the top 5 come the end of the season with many memorable wins under their belt.  I am due a visit back down there end soon enough, I shall consult the diary and make a date. NB - Last year I attended this same fixture and Maine Road won 5 - 4 - it can be quite scary how times change!

Friday 17 November 2017

PADI-WHAM AS DAISY WITHER IN THE COLD

16th November 2017 - Daisy Hill 2 v 8 Padiham FC  - It was a day of loose ends today after booking a few days off work to try and clear some dust and get some semblance of order to my forever busy existence.  A pile of CD's awaited my assessments, end of year wildlife records needed tidying up and sending, some household chores were done and I squeezed in a bit of exercise so the old carcass didn't seize up.  Tonight's match was a Lancashire Challenge Trophy 2nd Round clash with the host team floundering in the basement of the North West Counties First Division and the visitors holding their own in the tough and competitive realms of the Premier League.  To avoid any cerebral discombobulation for those of a nervous disposition I feel it important to clarify that  Daisy Hill is no sister of Fanny and was certainly destined to be less erotic on this nipple-nobbing November night that separated the sense-laden wheat from the foolhardy chaff.  I must also quell any thoughts anyone may have of thinking that Padiham is a form of Irish meat served on the cheap by a red faced sot - you really must concentrate tha' knows and stop these cranial wanderings.  Anyway after a shit drive that saw us only just make the game on time me and my lovely wife shivered and surveyed and at the end of matters my trembling mitts cobbled together a match report - it shook itself out and ended up as thus.

A lump of  chocolate had turned to an an icy lump and our tootsies were beginning to be tormented by Johnnie Frosts deviant tendrils (Jack was having night off) when both squads trotted out and located their starting positions. Kick off  came, it was the home 'erberts who came straight out of the blocks with a push down the wing, a cross and a sweeping pass home into the net after only 2 minutes on the clock.  The surprised striker was No 9 (Jordan Prescott), it was the perfect start for a side who were far from favourites.  The visiting team now started to establish some passing sequences, No 3 (Thomas Murphy), No 9 (Adam Bolton) and No 11 (Kenneth Taylor) were particularly eye-catching with good movement exposed.  At one point the ball seemed to find the home net after some sharp passing had taken place but, the referee ruled offside and stopped the cosh from falling with any crippling impact.  A quick follow up corner came, the ball pinged about and finally found the bonse of No 5 (Cameron Lancaster) - the miss was not expected.

Onwards Padiham strode with No 7 (Joseph Gaven) sending in a dipping shot that was just gathered up by an edgy mittman.  The same team advanced once more, No 8 (Sam Adetiloye) had a hopeful crack (oooh sounds like a part of Larry Grayson's physique).  The ball was blocked and fell at the feet of No 10 (Dominic Craig) who duly mopped up and leveled the game.  A quick corner was had next, Padiham put the ball in and a header out followed.  A lay off, a shot blocked and another effort by No 6 (Luke Holden) - crikey mother, the score was now 1 - 2.  Daisy Hill nearly brought parity when a free-kick was swung in and a close in header was only denied by a picture perfect save.  The move and the goal of the game came next when Taylor of the guests slipped two tackles deep in his own half before rushing forward with gonads ablaze.  He covered the full length of the pitch, passed, received, crossed and watched Adetiloye hit a honey sweet shot that dipped over the keeper and just below the bar - what a magical moment.  In fact, forget the time Paul Daniels turned his penis into an umbrella or the time when David Nixon made his own nipples disappear and turn up on the back of Charlie Drake's neck - this was a proper moment of mesmeric wonder, marvellous.  

Padiham were now becoming dominant in all areas, this was not looking good for the hosts. Another onslaught came, the Daisies were bending in the wind, the rear fell apart and a penalty was the outcome.  No 2 (Benjamin Hoskin) stepped up and joined the roll of honour and the Storks now had four eggs in the nest.  A brief quell in the action and then Daisy Hill won a crucial tackle and Prescott was suddenly looking down the barrel of a quick response - he took it well, we were now at 2 - 4 and with Padiham getting complacent perhaps another goal may be sneaked in just before the break.  Unfortunately it was not to be and although a gloriously sweeping move was had, the end touch was lacking and we greedy neutrals had to make do with a half dozen strikes to keep the cockles warmed.

The tea at half time was ruddy glorious and surely only the pap milk of the Goddess Titterina could equal the soothing liquid wonder.  We returned to our positions and the teams came out soon enough, would it be vulgar to ask for more of the same?

Padiham were keen, a swift attack and the globe hit mesh.  An offside rule came, it goes without saying the opposing sets of eyes saw matters differently.  Daisy Hill now shone, they had urgency and strung together many good passes.  Hopes were high but Taylor's quick feet broke down a passage of play and when his colleague picked up a pass and crossed it was Craig who delivered  a sickening body blow that must have felt very unjust to the home army.  A sucker punch nay, a killer punch, I think this was definitely...game over!  The Storks continually pecked, the DH communication was faltering, a saccharine move was cutting but ended on a blunt note - the next goal was on the cards folks.  The game duly settled, Daisy Hill were now putting in a good stint but the defenders were having to work up a real lather as probing ball after probing ball came their way.  Out of the lull it was the travellers who had a throw in that led to a cross and a header.  Yes, you guessed it, the header was on goal and rippled the network, Craig had his hat-trick, the downhill slide of the Daisy Dudes was continuing.

The back stretch, a few corners for The Hill were thwarted and a break away came.  It could have been a cruel moment but the chance disappeared into the increasing mist.  The cold now crept, Daisy Hill had a lob toward a vacant goal, the ball was off-line. The response was razor-like and a swift move saw the 7th goal come courtesy of the substitute (Daniel Boyle).  The reaction off field was minor, it seemed a formality.  A late flourish saw No 15 of Padiham have a low late effort tidily saved.  When the corner came and was dealt with the pass back in was a scorcher and Adam Bolton finalised the move and nailed the final score as 2 goals to 8.  The ref blew, this had been a thumping and Man of the Match for me goes to No 11 (Kenneth Taylor) of Padiham for his ground coverage, elusive feet and some quite dazzling moves that helped his team coast to victory - a proper good stint!

FINAL THOUGHT - The term 'up to your neck in shit' may be applied to Daisy Hill very soon if they don't get their act together and eliminate this aggravating bad run of form.  Work needs to be done on organisation and keeping possession of the ball as well as staying tight under pressure.  They can resist the downward pull and tonight's match is by and large best ignored and put to one side.  There were small glimmers of potential on which to build, will they be spotted, will this team beat the drop?  It is all questions folks!  Padiham on the other hand are a decent prospect and seem to have some very good players in their mix.  The management were constantly talking to them, keeping them disciplined and explaining duties as the game went on - this can make so much difference and all adds to a unity that will put them in good stead. The very best of luck to them and I will hopefully get back up their end soon enough.  So, 10 goals, frozen wotsits and late night watching non-league football - many would deem it madness, I say it is supporting a worthwhile sport that never fails to entertain - let's keep doing it folks.

Sunday 12 November 2017

BASEMENT BATTLE

11th November 2017 - Burscough FC 2 & 1 Maine Road  - Up earlier than the Devil (we may catch him peeing on the Brambles), out into darkened depths and up to Ainsdale for a wildlife wander with some like-minded folks.  It was a lovely do, a small list of species was compiled with a few rare fungi in the mix.  I avoided getting sand in my undies, me and my good lady made our way to Victoria Park for a warming cuppa and a rest of the old boiled eggs.  Firstly we nipped to a local pie shop - crikey what a dazzling treat.  We headed into the ground, slurped tea, took up our positions and pondered.  Both teams were struggling for form (and luck) this year and found themselves floundering in the bottom four.  I catch up with these two sides quite regularly and have a soft spot for both.  This was one of those matches, so early in the season, that could kick-start a run that would put relegation fears in the rear and get all heads zoned in on the task ahead of climbing further up the table.   I wondered who would come out on top.  Seats taken, we contemplated the cold and wrapped up warm, may the best team snatch all 3 points.

A super start from Burscough, No 2 (Daniel Brady)  was released down the flank and worked like a wasp on whizz and somehow concluded his efforts with a cross.  The ball flew up and fell to the pegs of No 11 (Peter Henerty) who volleyed home - the home heads were delighted, a veritable bonus boost to the days events.  The Road came straight back with ardour, passing with pace, purpose and promise.   Eventually a poke at goal was had, No 9 (Jack Coop) was thwarted at the last by a wide awake mittman.  A corner followed, a break away came and No 10 (Terry Cummings) for the home team was through.  The chance was begging, time was delayed, the punt came too late and no further strike was added.  A hard-working period now ensued with the sticky pitch showing early winter wear and testing those pumping leg muscles. The green and whites came on, great flank work resulted in a ball in, No 7 (Adam Gilchrist) hesitated and when the trigger was pulled it was rushed and the spherical projectile whizzed over the bar.  A break down the other end saw Coop chase and only be beaten to the ball by mere fractions as the mitter was alert and quick out of the blocks.  A corner was given and the ball was belted in and cleared.  The recipient was Road's No 10 (Connor Hughes), he sensed glory and struck - 1-1, the tension now rose.

Burscough were wounded, they now urged themselves on, Henerty turned on a mouse's member and fed No 9 (Chad Whyte), a quality block by Road's last man was needed and duly executed.  Next and a deflected thwack from Road's No 11 (Jamie Roe) could have been problematical for the defending home 'erberts but it was gathered up, dealt with and hoofed clear.  Road though collected, Coop let rip a rasper (was that his underpants I heard tearing at the seams), the ball rocketed forth and was...disappointingly just off the mark.  A reaction came, Burscough thrusted and some real warped and wayward balls were witnessed. Suddenly, from the midst of mania a goalkeeping botch was committed and in nipped Burscough's Whyte to purloin prize and make the scoreline 2-1 to the Green Army.  This was good end to end stuff with both teams going at it like Jack Rabbit's on Viagra.  The MR machine pushed higher, a cross, header and a save happened in the twitch of a nerve-riddled nadger, a free-kick that came was equally fleeting, the end touch just missing the inside of the post.  The half came to a closure and me and my good lady nipped for some warming cha' - it may be cold in the stands but the action on the pitch was keeping us all aglow.

The tea went down like nectar, absolutely lovely it was and all thoughts of a Bacchanalian existence were put into the background as I pondered changing my name to Teabag Tommy and setting out on a pilgrimage to spread the word of the leaf.  Alas, as I reached the bottom of the cup, the teams came out, my musings were put on the backburner - excuse me oh fellow PG Tippians and the like.

The second chunk of action began, The Road came out quickest, Burscough were sitting too deep and prone to getting themselves into hot water.  A free-kick for the Road was taken by No 7 (Jack Langford) and was a real rectum ripper that needed the surgical gloves of the net doctor to stop any great injury to the score-sheet.  A corner followed, Road's No 5 (Christopher Beatty) rose and nutted the ball to the top corner, the save that came was straight out of the knicker drawer of excellence - ooh me gussets.  Another angled bonus boot in, the situation was rescued by some choice defensive work via The Linnets No 10 (Terry Cummings). A long ball followed, a rush of blood filled the Road's No 1, he sprinted from his line to quell danger, Burscough's Whyte was quicker.  He grabbed the ball as the mittman went arse over tit, the shot was released, the side netting struck and blushes spared.  What a let off, the game was still alive.

A few surprise subs were now made, parity was restored on the pitch and then Cummings for the hosts had a half chance but the ball just wouldn't settle for a positive belt.  An effort did eventually come but it was wayward, albeit by only a few feet.  Several more shots were rained in at the guests' goal, the netter produced a couple of decent saves, there was life in the old dog yet.  Road called upon their reserves, great work from the sub saw a cross made which was picked up by Roe.  The No 11 turned tightly, let off a shot, it went mightily close but not close enough to raise sweat on the keepers brow.  The tension now was palpable, this was a big game, a bottom of the table clash that meant so much.  A cross-cum-shot nearly dropped in the top corner of the net but was tidily tipped over.  2 punts came back in, nowt doing and as Road tried to build they were shockingly dissected by a delicious pass that saw Whyte and the keeper once more do battle - again the keeper won and saved with a sprawl, it didn't relieve the onslaught for long.  Burscough gave one last heave-ho, the finish was energy laden and both squads should be applauded on the industry and attitude.  The final whistle eventually came, Maine Road looked deflated, Burscough absolutely chuffed to get the 3 point prize. There were many good efforts on the pitch today but for me, Burscough's No 3 (Jamie Clarke) deserves the applause and gets the Man of the Match nod.  An efficient, industrious, subtle and, at times, inspirational effort and just highlighting that if the head is down, the commitment is high one can produce the goods quietly but mightily effectively.  

FINAL THOUGHT - I have seen Burscough play on many occasions this year and have been bewildered by the amount of times they have performed well and not gathered up a full-on victory - today was just deserts and hopefully a platform on which to build.  Maine Road are local to me and are a team I also see quite regularly - they frustrate me no end, seem to put in some good stints and come away with sweet FA.   To rise higher and avoid empty pockets at the end of a 90 minute tussle it is crucial that each and every ball must be chased to the death and even if a chance seems lost I feel it is important that it must be committed too.  The teams at the top have some quick runners who never let up and that is a small difference that, paradoxically, makes such a big difference.  The positions of these two teams are false, but if hard organisation and a 110% willingness to run oneself into the ground isn't achieved in all areas the position will end up ringing true - work hard, go at it like warriors, strike whilst the blood runs hot.

Saturday 11 November 2017

FRIDAY FROLICS

10th November 2017 - West Didsbury & Chorlton 3 v 5 Irlam FC - A Friday night match is a rare event for me, in fact it is as uncommon as a Bishop without a police conviction, a wrestler without an acting award or a pygmy without piles (it's the short legs don't ya know).  I finished my weekly working chores, cycled home, chilled, had tea with my good lady and arrived at the ground in plenty of time.  Pop was slurped, I read the latest 'Butterfly' magazine and I made pre-match notes whilst wondering what the outcome would be.  Both teams, on their day, are mightily efficient and are capable of some eye-catching football.  I hoped this affair would be something akin to Rustie Lee's knockers on a trampoline - a clash of the titans.  I say this not because I have a fondness for Ms Lee ( I am more a Fanny Craddock man myself - ooh them flap-jacks) but because I had visions of two hefty units slapping together and making some quite impressive aftershocks - perhaps I do need to up the tranquiliser dosage. Anyway, the blues and the stripes came out, the 3 black clad officials led the way, all took up their positions and the aural signal to begin play was made.

The start was zipping, No 7 (Marcus Perry) of Irlam was particularly industrious but, despite the guests huff and puff, it was the hosts who had the first cross and header towards goal, alas it was over and we punters had to wait for the first strike.  Some sloppy Irlam defending allowed WDC a free punt, it came to sour FA but the pressure now came and a good ball in found No 9 (Thomas Bailey) who fired and earned a corner.  The ball was hoofed, mayhem erupted, a clearance followed and Irlam were cultivating a superb passing move that saw Perry liberated. He bobbed, weaved, crossed and somehow the incoming striker didn't bury the globe in the mesh.  A startling miss.  Irlam came again, a shabby end shot deflated the bench and brought words of blue.  The next attack was sharper and No 9 (Connor Martin) won a chase and passed allowing No 10 (Matthew Boland) to tidily tap home.  Within a few wanks of the watch the visiting blues were marauding forth again with some quite clinical passing.  The strike came, the executioner was the deserving Marcus Perry, it was a quite eye-grabbing goal.  Irlam looked set to dominate but an error in the rear allowed Bailey to pilfer, prepare and ping.  The ball flew in, 1-2 - what a fine game we were witnessing, what madness did the evening hold.

No sooner had my pen left the paper than Perry for Irlam was trespassing in his opponents territory.  He switched feet, cut in, took too long to unload - the shot was duly blocked. Somehow from so much promise and control, the guests who were pregnant with threat, let the muscles relax and gave birth to the disappointing runt known as disaster. They were hustled out of possession, a shot in was parried and the loose ball was gobbled up by the poaching Bailey to grab his own, and his sides, second goal of the game.  All square we were, this was a beauty.  I expected that to be that for the first 45 but Irlam had an arse full of ants and just couldn't stay inactive for very long.  Perry was in the mix again, constant pressure reached danger levels, Perry had grabbed another - by heck man, get me the Tramadol, me head's spinning.  There was only 1 minute left on the clock, the globe was in the WDC box again and half cleared, waiting was No 11 (Danny Greene).  He set to shoot, changed his mind and then apparently thought 'sod it'.  A shot cum chip was the result - oh yes, goal of the game, what a pip, 2-4 - the ref blew, I needed a reality check.

As the teams headed off I had a wander to the opposite side of the ground, nattered with a hopper and slurped some Ribena.  

The second half started with Perry of Irlam running and having a peek at goal, his end choice was wrong and The West broke.  No 5 (Joshua Tinker) was a long way out but a floating shot was chanced.  Wow, top corner, what a spellbinder, what a way to rekindle hopes and spirits and get the home bods back into things.  For the neutral the game was perfectly balanced with a certain gung-ho recklessness always present beneath the surface of perspiration.  A brace of Irlam chances came and went, The Dids were getting trapped in the final third but somehow suppressed the heat, built from the back and saw Bailey go on a rapier-like thrust, lay the ball off for No 10 (Matthew Kay) to fire just off-target.  I expected more of the same from the team in need but a poor header from one of their subs saw Irlam's No 10 (Matthew Boland) pounce and punish.  Wallop, it was another golden strike, it was icing on a very bloated cake!  West Didsbury and Chorlton were now striving to get back in this one, No 7 (Carlos Mendes Gomes) let rip a sizzler, a quality save came, top notch indeed.  A few tasty tackles followed and a pot-shot came the other way.  It was Martin who strove for assassins honor.  Gloves were stung, the save was concrete.  

We were now late in the evening, the many whizzing legs were getting tired, the rain fell and the chill pervaded all areas.  WDC had a corner, Tinker flew in and put his crust on the globe - over the bar the ball went, it could have been a whole lot more.  Before we were done both sides had a decent shot each, one saved, one off-line, when the ref blew no one could complain, this had been a wild, off-the leash exhibition of two teams with a 'fuck it and see' attitude.  Man of the Match for me was Irlam's No 9 (Connor Martin) who showed some wonderful control, picked many a good pass and was always alert to the game around him - it was a performance to ponder and one reflective of a fine player.

FINAL THOUGHT - I once paid five pounds to spend a night in a free casino with a 3 breasted woman and an hermaphrodite with 2 todgers.  I was supplied with free-drinks, a bottle of posterior lotion and given a bag of gambling chips.  In the morning I was massaged by a dozen nude pygmies and fed quail eggs by a lesbian Mermaid - I'll tell you now, I had less excitement than I got tonight but at the end of the event my testicles were a little warmer.  Glowing globes apart this was a cracking evening's entertainment and again reflects what lucky buggers we are to be clued in to the Non-League zone.  Both teams have talent but, if they play like this, will be involved in many a nail-biting matches and be certainly rolling the dice with the devil of decision who gives no favours and takes no prisoners.  The defences are like the backside of Quentin Crisp, and need plugging, the industry and effort though needs no interfering with - the lads did themselves proud.  If you want to ask me how these teams will fare come the season end, well don't. I just know that both will not be short of goal action at either end of the pitch - I just hope your nerves hold up if you are a constant supporter.

Wednesday 8 November 2017

RAMMY DAMMY DING DONG

7th November 2017 - Ramsbottom United  3 v 0 Stalybridge Celtic - I once had an incident with a Ram's Bottom, it was during a stay at Farmer Ducklove's Farm of Erotic Therapy in a tucked away cranny in the wilds of Wales.  I was in a field, the wind whipped up and my trousers blew off.  The farmer's wife had fed me some steroid based eggs for breakfast, I found myself in a state of uncontrollable arousal when my eyes were attracted to a rather attractive woolly rear end, I could reveal more, I shall be decent and leave the rest up to 'ewe', besides I would hate to be lambasted in public for a crime beyond my control - I was drugged I tell ya, drugged. Anyway tonight myself and my good lady expected no repeat performance of the ovine incident and headed to the game full of high hopes and no 'baa'd' feelings.  This had better be a good un', although for a kind free entry gesture I would be a vulgar pig to find fault.  The game commenced, here is what transpired.

Disclaimer - I was gasbagging throughout this match, I only made note of the pertinent points, here is an abridged account of an affair that was quite flat and with very little in the way of competition - if it does not suffice blame Mr Stephen Gaskell of Ramsbottom for his jaw-wagging attributes.  The first half flopped before our peepers and saw the home brigade very much in the ascendancy.  Sharper, hungrier and with an all-round compactness, The Rams kept the Stalybridge Squad on the back foot and try as they might, the guests could only muster the odd glimpse of light.  We had only just settled, my mate and his missus turned up and started to molest my framework (well he did and, may I add, in a most jovial and decent way, none of that sexual nonsense you know) and whilst in the clutches of his welcome I saw Ramsbottom’s No 8 (Eddie Moran) fire in an absolute screamer that left the goalkeeper sprawling with no hope.  It was a start that set the touch-paper, unfortunately some bugger jumped on it and we didn’t get the fireworks expected.  Next and No 11 (Ben Richardson) showed pace, the ball was released, No 7 (Tom Williams) was through, alas the touch was dreadful and a glorious chance had disappeared into the ether. The game stuttered on, and after a quick response shot flew high into the Heavens, there was little else to report. All the while Rammy were dictating the play and it didn’t seem long before they would cultivate another chance.  No 11 (Ben Richardson), was the man on a mission, running this way and that and when he found himself on the wing, cutting in and rasping in a cross cum shot I think even he was a trifle surprised to see the second goal on the card.  Was it an own goal or was he claiming it – the cheeky bugger.  Seconds later No 9 (Sam Heathcote) was in the box, he turned on a midget’s nipple and fired.  The shot was like another Midget’s aroused member – low and firm, it missed the target.  The minutes ticked by, there was little else to report – 1 minute of extra time and done, time to evacuate some liquid gold. To add to the opening assessment, a Stalybridge supporter summed up his sides showing prior to the break, 'Piss poor isn't the word', he spat out, who am I to argue! 

I piddled rather than diddled, myself and my good lady had a slurp of ginger and opened our ‘Golden Goal’ – ruddy rotten git, 79 minutes, not even close – oh one of these days the dosh will be mine.  Our friends had gone for a drink and duly reappeared – we discussed many things throughout the half, forgive my terse account of what transpired – tonight old times, horror films, noise and mischievousness were the order of the day.

The second half was a drudgy affair with hard pressure in midfield leading to an overall suppression of excitement.  The onlookers seemed to be in need of a high but these were few and far between as the visitors got a firmer foot in the arse of proceedings but failed to really rattle the bollocks of their opponents.  Huff and puff the teams went, the damp turf underground assisted the quick pace of the game but overall the shooting sights were impeded and what we got was an affair of limited chances.  The first and only breakthrough of this second period came on the 71st minute when, after rising pressure the Ram’s No  14 (Jerome Wright) dinked a defender and swept the ball home to bring up a secure 3 – 0 scoreline that seemed to be under no threat whatsoever.  The rest of the half was low on nipple-firming action but two laser-like strikes from Stalybridge were hammered through a pack of defensive bodies and forced the home No 1 (Danny Taberner) to make 2 quite outstanding saves – in fact the way the ball flew and the keeper flung himself was comic book stuff that Roy Race would be proud to put his name against, although I suspect in those fantastical realms the keepers arms would have been busted and the net set to flames as the ball hurtled home.  The referee ended the encounter and despite a couple of Stalybridge bods running themselves into the ground the team were out of sync tonight and even luck would not smile upon their perspiring heads.  Man of the Match must go to The Ram’s No 1 (Danny Taberner) who was tidy and efficient throughout (despite one minor blip) and on two aforementioned moments was outstanding – a clean sheet is always noteworthy too, good on ya chap.


FINAL THOUGHT - This wasn't the greatest match and was too one way to rouse much scribbling from my tired carcass.  Ramsbottom looked particularly organised tonight and their rearguard was akin to a frozen solid testicle - a tough nut to crack.  The match tonight was free, applause to all concerned for that, the ground has a nice feel to it and there were many stalwarts in the mix to show that Non-League football is alive and kicking.  My mate and his good lady, who I had only seen once in the last 20 years was a bonus, and kept me somewhat distracted but only in the best possible way.  We will return to Rammy and pop up to Stalybridge too, next time with hopefully a better match to witness and a usual in depth report.  In the meantime, enjoy your footy, all the best to both squads and wrap up warm - crikey I was chilled to the marrow.


Saturday 4 November 2017

TOWN TESTED, BUT STILL NOT BESTED

4th November 2017 - Irlam FC 2 v 3 Runcorn Town FC - The eve of Bonfire Night, a commercial con that has the masses burning an effigy of Guy Fawkes and sending an abundance of money up into the sky to burst apart in a mocking multi-coloured flash.  What madness pervades and hey, surely anyone who wants to blow up the Houses of Parliament deserves a better deal than having his conkers roasted - how about buying the fella a pint or two?  Anyway, rather than ponse about a commercial blaze and watch many a damp squib, myself and my good lady were looking for one or two dazzling fireworks on the pitch of the Ambitek Stadium where 2 teams were set to ignite a tussle that had me dripping at the jowls. The home squad are a tough nut to tackle on their own turf and the visitors are on a consistent roll and have their eyes on nothing less than the first prize.  This should be a beauty, unlike Betty Turpin who used to frequent the Rover's Return and who I consider a bit of a beast - cripes, fancy waking up to that after a night on the sherry, one can almost feel the todger wither.  I doth jest though, she seemed like a nice lady and despite having swastikas tattooed on her nipples it gives me no right to judge her appearance - I shall always strive to be...anti-prejudice.  And to the match, we came, we were cooled, we chatted with some lovely Runcorn lasses, we slurped tea and munched snacks and we witnessed this.

As a slight drizzle fell, the teams came out.  The whistle was blown and the start was balanced with both units cancelling each other out during the initial throes of the game.  Runcorn were the first to have a chance with No 7 (Joseph Holt) providing No 10 (Craig Cairns) who duly fired low and hit the keepers protective carcass.  Within the twinkling of a hopeful eye No 2 (Shaun Dowling) tried his luck with a similar punt and saw the ball fly low and slowly sneak in by the post beneath the late flying body of the keeper.  It looked like an error from the last man, the advantage given to the guest was put on a golden platter and served with a sparkling 'have a bonus' card - what a gift.  This proved to be a rocket up the Irlam rectum and fiery attitude was displayed in response.   No 7 (Marcus Perry) and No 2 (Macauley Harewood) were two noteworthy bods who pushed on with pride and passion, and it was the former player who found himself with the ball, put in a cross and allowed No 3 (Joel Amado) to nip in and tap home to level the game.  What a fine goal and  a concrete confidence builder if ever I saw one. Now it was Runcorn's turn to expose hefty gonads of desire and it was their Captain Cairns who led the way, hustling, harassing and hunting and eventually supplying a cross that whizzed across the face of goal - alas all takers were absent.  Up the other end and superb work by the blue No 10 (Connor Martin) saw a corner earned.  The ball was hoofed in, a few wild swings were had before No 11 (Daniel Green) had a definite crack at goal, the ball was only inches off the mark.  Irlam came yet again, hunger and a high work rate saw No 4 (Liam Morrison) win a tackle, hammer a shot and force the keeper to make a quite impressive stop.  The ensuing corner was easily dealt with.

A lull now came in the tempo, Irlam started to sponge up Runcorn's increasing advances.  The guests were scurrying like rats in a kebab shop, Irlam were as resistant as Mother Theresa's chastity belt - where would the next crack be exposed.  The answer was soon given as a fine long ball found Amado on the wing, who sweetly knocked in a cross that allowed a touch on to No 9 (Jordan Icely) to slap home.  A cracking move and well taken at the last, what a game this was.  Irlam came once more with Perry cutting in and banging hard.   The ball flew over but the thinking was spot on.  Another shot flew forth soon after, this time by Greene.  It was an ambitious effort and missed the hit-zone but hey, the squad were on a roll, why the hell not take a chance or two?  From here Runcorn pushed, Irlam saw the half out in a professional and tidy manner, the game was perfectly poised for an uplifting second half.

A cup of cha' was needed and so we went and made the purchase.  I wet my whistle and was quite relieved when the referee didn't turn up to blow it - I am a married man tha' knows, I have standards.  Zipped up and sipping the northern nectar myself and my grand lady went and parked our rears, we were looking forward to more of the same.

Part 2 and after Runcorn's No 9 (Mark Reed) and Irlam's No 5 (Steven Mills) had indulged in a bit of Strictly Come Dancing the first punt of the half came to the visiting No 8 (Thomas Crawford) who was wild and off-line but who, gave impetus upon which his side built.  The Town rushed with rabid urgency and Irlam needed to step up their own labour rate to stem a potential tide.  Runcorn suddenly won a corner from nothing and the ball was put in, put out and returned. The netman grabbed but fumbled and, like a pervert on a porn mag, Craig Cairns jumped at the chance and tapped up the loose globe.  2 goals apiece, the goal magnet was at it again, give him and inch and your trousers will be down and the balls will go flying in (do not read too much into my description, I do not want another visit to court).  Another shot from Runcorn came, the goalkeeper needed to grab low, a striker hoped for another sniff, suspicions of a foot left in came, the mitter was prostrate, the language from the bench had the potential to curdle a nun's breastmilk - pass me the earplugs.  Irlam now called upon reservoirs of spirit, a brace of corners was the result, no joy and then at the other end Cairns was away.  He held the ball and crossed, up popped Reed at the far post and nutted forth,  the side netting seemed to be hit, darn these ruddy glasses, it was a goal and the game had been turned upside down - what a comeback, and what clinical finishing by this high flying unit.

Irlam now had to respond, their No 8 (Matthew Boland) latched onto the globe and let loose a sizzler.  The ball rose too much but it sent out decent warning signals.  Next and the referee needed to give the Irlam bench a talking to and the home lads switched off.  The Runcorn free-kick that followed saw Cairns volley, luckily for the hosts he didn't fully connect and the ball was safely gathered in.  We were now in the last stretch, Runcorn thrusted, Cairns won a midfield ball, passed to Holt who laid off for Greene to fire.  The save was tidy but the ball came back out to Holt. He had time and space, he fired and blazed over - that was a bad one mate, could your team live to regret it. No 17 (Craig Jones) had another crack for The Town soon after, the goalie saved and released.  Irlam were striving to get a leveller and No 16 (Malachi Slavin) had a hopeful knock and was only inches off target.  The last seconds ticked away into the past, the final whistle came, somehow Runcorn had done the business, for me it was all down to persistence and a clinical execution that Albert Pierrepoint would have been proud of.  Man of the Match goes to Runcorn Town's No 11 (Kevin Exell) who was substituted late on and walked off ragged, filthy and with a gut busted.  This physical state reflected his eye-catching commitment and non-stop desire to get stuck in, I think this helped his team no end and assisted in giving them a win on a day they were put into a grafting mire.  Good on ya son.

FINAL THOUGHT - On reflection I feel as though Irlam should not have lost this as they had more of the play, had many good performances and had the game by the scruff of the neck. Their undoing was the fact that Runcorn play at full tempo for 90 minutes, chase every ball and show a fantastic commitment and run their opponents legs into the ground.  I felt as though during the last 20 minutes Runcorn looked as fresh as daisies and Irlam looked heavy legged. This was a bloody good contest though and it will be interesting to see the outcome next time these two teams meet.  Both are quality crews, both are always a joy to watch and each has a ground that is always a pleasure to visit.  The key for both squads is keeping their players so as to build a unity and a consistency, if this happens Runcorn will be wearing a much sought after crown at the end of the season and Irlam will be pissing on many teams chips both home and away...mmmm chips, crikey, after today's events I could ruddy well thrash a bag - (PS thrashing a bag is not a euphemism for masturbating, I just wanted to clear that one up).  Here's to the next one.