30th January 2018 - Congleton Town 1 v 2 City of Liverpool - A Tuesday night, a meeting between two well supported clubs, a chance to see a fascinating match and of course partake of the finest chips in the North West Counties League. We set off early, to beat the traffic and most of the purple army - you gotta watch them chip munching bastards, lovely folk but appetites like shithawks on pot - quite indecent don't ya know. On the way down we listened to the fourth installment of 'The Day of the Triffids', a fantastic tale of murdering plants, a murder that is committed with a poisonous sting - crikey. Mind you, there are worse way to go - I remember old Fruity Fred and that cactus his family claimed accidentally slipped up his arse when he tripped over the latest copy of 'Humping Hunks' - a tragedy that still puts goosebumps on me rectum - brrr! Talking of goosebumps, me and the good lady were wrapped up warm tonight and with the aforementioned chips in the belly we hoped that this would be enough to stave of a waft of Jack Frost's icicle - a cup of tea was also used and a cork up the rear end - you just never know. We sat, shivered, watched the Bears and The Purps appear, they part took in a contest that ran as thus:-
A zipping start was had, both teams bang at it. No 10 (Karl Noon) of the yellow clad Purps provided the first crack at goal after his colleague No 7 (Jack Hazelhurst) wove his way through a still sleepy eyed defence. The end result though was too tame to trouble the man between the sticks. Soon after the same bod found the net after a quite polished move. It was a shame the linesman deemed matters offside - there is always one isn't there? A COL corner came next, after much pestering work. The ball went in and was headed out whereupon No 8 (Joseph Camozzi) fancied his chances and tried to place his shot which went just over the horizontal. Within seconds the lemonised lads came again. A razor sharp ball through was cut back at an angle and after a miskick No 4 (Kevin McEllin) drilled forth a low, fizzing shot. Pick that out sayeth the marksman who duly celebrated a fairly decent strike. It was a well deserved goal for a team making all the running and ruling the roost. The Congo, scampering like mint humbugs laden with whizz, had their backs against the wall and a long range effort by the visiting Noon soon after could have been salt in the freshly inflicted wound. Luckily for the hosts it fell just wide of the mark. A scarce sortie forth came the way of the Congleton crew, a cross came and when No 10 (Declan Fletcher) robbed the keeper it was disappointing to see the ball trickle behind and a foul given. The hosts came again, a great cross ball from Fletcher found No 7 (Oliver Ford) who played a good pass to No 11 (Emini Adegbenro) . A shot came but was met by firm hands has the keeper blocked and saw danger pass. This was a good response from the Bears and with just a bit more width they could find themselves back in this one.
A Congleton free-kick offered up the next morsel of intrigue, No 8 (Luke Edwards) pumped it in, Fletcher nutted goalward, Adegbenro pounced like a panther with a hard-on. The keeper had the mental bromide to quell any erections of excitement and saved well, phew - I was getting carried away there. COL responded but No 9 (Thomas Peterson) ended a decent move with one of the weakest shots imaginable - surely Bonnie Langford on a hunger strike could have put more muscle behind the ball! The Congo reacted, a quite majestic pass by Edwards to Adegbenro who rode a couple of tackles and swung the peg. Over, but the distant light of promise was getting nearer by the kick! The City of Liverpool stemmed the turning tide with a brace of corners, one of which nearly went straight in and needed tipping over the bar by a fully stretched keeper. At the other end a blazing move tore The Purps a new arse but the final penetration was woeful as a shot from mere feet out was blasted high into the now leaking sky. A massive miss, one of those turning points methinks. Luckily the culprit got away unnamed - I think it only decent. Next up and Camozzi for the COL's tried another placed shot but once more found only miserable air and then his team came forth again with No 3 (Francis Foy) working hard, passing to the industrious Peterson who put the ball on a plate for No 11 (Dean Shacklock) to slap home. A very impressive goal and executed with such clinical efficiency, 2 - 0 and the Bears now needed to dig in their claws for a real uphill climb. Towards the arse end of the first 45 it was the travelling Peterson who was keen to pick up scraps and work his buttocks into a frenzied state. He gained a lost ball and duly crossed but it was a little too deep for his colleague. It did show however that Congleton Town were on the ropes here and needed to bob and weave as best as they could to avoid that finishing uppercut. The half-time whistle came soon after.
The break was taken having a chat on the phone to our dancing daughter at University. She had had a hard day on the jigging floor and putting the work in - good on her and with recent grades glowing we were quite proud parents. She is a darn decent girl too who, as per, gave a prediction of 2 - 1 for this game - mmm - we shall see.
The teams came back out still sporting their sweetshop colours. I pondered writing the second half with a Willy Wonka theme but knowing the humour of the Purple Helmets I thought it best to avoid any twisting of words and going down the Willy Wanka route instead! Both units cracked on, defied the mizzle and worked hard to ignite that second half flame. Good perseverance from Fletcher won a home corner. The ball was dumped into the box and a free header for No 5 (Thomas Morris) was firm but straight into the meat of the mitters carcass. The COL collective now began to retain possession with the closest to any breakthrough coming from a cross via the feet of Hazelhurst who saw the globe glance along the crossbar and miss all the awaiting strike-men. His cohort in Congleton corruption, the hopeful Noon, was next to drill one but it was off target and didn't raise any further perspiration from the home rear pack.
A quiet patch came, both squads steaming with effort but nullifying each others chances. Congo's Edwards rattled one out of the melee but it was closer to Timbuktoo than the back of the mesh. We fell into the back stretch of the game with intrigue still perky, a Congleton break saw Fletcher at the helm laying off a reverse pass to Adegbenro. The latter player cut in and thwacked, it was another wild and uncontrolled effort. City of Liverpool now found a second breath of life, a free kick was won on the edge of their opponents box and oozed potential danger. No 2 (Luke Denson) stepped up, eyed his chances and duly thumped over - poor indeed. The home heads strove on, a couple of hopeful balls were thrown into the box, a chance punt was struck at goal and somehow we had a strike back out of the blue and Adegbenro had given his team something to fight for. A touchpaper was lit, the licking flames of tension toyed with everyone's nerves, would there be one last twist in this fascinating contest? Shots came at both ends, a certain frantic mania ensued but City of Liverpool are a well-drilled unit and absorbed the pressure whilst Congleton just lacked that killer desire. A few half chances were had to get the match all square but time was the enemy and before we knew it we were done and watching the Purple Army celebrate another sturdy win. The Man of the Match tonight goes to an understated player who was a string-pulling part of the City of Liverpool team and went about his business quietly, with focus and with great success. No 4 (Kevin McEllin) take a bow and your commitment, fine engine and subtle effectiveness did not go unnoticed.
FINAL THOUGHT - What fine trip out to one of my favourite grounds. £6 in, the best chips in the league, a great view point, my wife picked up 10 books off the book stall and we witnessed a match to warm the cockles of the chuff - unless of course your cockles fell off long ago and you have a aging barnacle encrustation to contend with. The 2 teams on show tonight put on a great match but City of Liverpool are a ruddy good team with a quite beleaguering approach that keeps all opponents flustered, under siege and beset by a constant pressure. They are destined to go on to bigger things and let us be honest - who can begrudge em'. Congleton Town are another decent side but who just seem to lack that slight killer edge to push em' on to a series of worthy wins and give them a justifiable place in the league standings. They are better than they think and for me, on tonight's evidence at least, lacked a bit of width, gave up on to many loose balls and let their intensity slip at certain times that duly cost them dear. The team will do fine though but their next 2 fixtures are real testers and it will be interesting to see how they cope. I have a return visit pencilled in for next week, get the chip pan on please and keep our seats warm. PS - a massive thank you to the club for their efforts tonight especially the groundsman who made this game playable - a marvellous effort.
Wednesday 31 January 2018
Sunday 28 January 2018
GET OF OF JAIL - PLAYED
27th January 2018 - Altrincham FC 1 v 1 Warrington Town - By the crikey this climate is getting on my tits and these constant grey skies, rain-riddled days and just general chilled intrusions are sending me into the blue realms of irritation and causing me to ponder my sanity. But bollocks to it I say and rather than sit about and let the black dog lick my wretched knackers it is important to get up, make sure all is safely gathered in (including the aforementioned knackers) and head out and do something positive. So, after a morn of catching up and a good dinner the loins were girded (ouch) and me and my always fine lady headed out for a clash of two teams outside our usual sphere. The match we had planned had been called off due to an overload of precipitation so we made alternative arrangements and headed to nearby Altrincham. We had the third installment of 'Day of the Triffids' on in the car and it reminded me to keep my pistils and petals covered up on this miserably wretched day - I considered myself a gardener of the gonads!. We arrived, headed into the club house, slurped a brew, chomped some chips and contemplated 90 minutes in the outside air - I was hoping the teams could provide some thermal pleasure, if not I may be back to bulldoze the ground and erect a sun-tanning centre - for just those with permanent goose-pimples that is! The teams came out, I was caught between my love of non-league football and my fantasy of sporting a David Dickenson tan - perhaps I should stick to supporting the glorious game, spending time as a satsuma-skinned fraud is never a viable option - besides pin-striped suits are not in vogue and I have my reputation as a fashion icon to uphold - bah!
A good early turn by Warrington's No 9 (Jamie McDonald) who twisted the hips and won a free-kick. The bonus punt taken slammed against the wall and was hoofed clear but the attack was rebuilt. No 10 (Tony Gray) crossed from the flank and the crust of the No 11 (William Hayhurst) put the ball wide, it should have been at least on target. Besides this the start was rather scrappy, with No 10 (James Poole) for the Alt having a tepid try at goal and then up the other end his opposite number Gray, playing a sublime chip through and allowing McDonald to thwack with pace into the side-netting. It was a move that raised a roar from the crowd, it would have been a ruddy good goal that is for sure! The Robins came back with their red and white breast thrust high. Poole turned, laid off a pass to No 9 (Jordan Hulme) who shot low and hard. The legs of the visiting keeper splayed quicker than those of Joan Collins in a male brothel, the save was had. A few rough tackles came in, a few bookings also came. Altrincham began to turn up the heat, spraying the ball this way and that but with about as much threat as a toothless shark. The referee was making the match a struggle with a constant desire to show off his talents as a chat-show host and using every opportunity to wag the jaw - crikey, what a frustrating fella - Russell Harty on a foreigner no less (not literally though although you never could tell). Eventually Warrington came on, some weaving wing work and a cross saw the ball drop at the feet of No 8 (Dylan Vassallo) who duly volleyed with purpose. The sprawling mittman got his fingertips to the ball but it wasn't enough to stop it from rolling over the line and bringing up the first goal. It was the spark the game needed and a touch more urgency came amid a period of frantic end to end stuff.
Altrincham were being kept honest by Warrington's endless hustling but the home No 7 (John Johnston) was unfortunate not to see his colleague Hulme, make contact with a teasing cross cum semi-shot. It was Johnston again who was in the thick of the action when he chased a 50/50 ball and clattered the keeper. A bit of bitching and shopping bag swinging ensued - for me it was just an unlucky challenge. More bookings came as the scrappy affair fell apart but at the last the Robin's No 2 (Shaun Densmore) was involved in a lovely move that saw McDonald finalise only to be thwarted by the ever-ready keeper. The ref, an in fact most of the crowd, had seen enough. It was a time to refuel, rethink and come up with balls bared.
Myself and my good lady stayed put and chilled, there were a few on today (1419 I believe) and standing in a queue at the risk of missing some action is not what we like to do, so when the teams came out we were all prepared. This is what happened!
The Alt were quickest from the traps forcing the visiting No 1 (Anthony McMillan) to punch from a noggin and then save from No 3's (Connor Hampson) right foot pile-driver. A free-kick, a corner, a volley and a deflection all ended in a wild penalty claim, the referee was having none of it. A Yellow's break, counter-punched by a surge towards the opposite goal - all this mad dash mayhem resulted in was 2 more bookings - cripes, was the ref collecting names for a night on the tiles - the randy old git. Hampson came again for the hosts, he worked the flank and won a worthy corner but the resultant angled kick that came was shite - as was the shabby foul soon after that saw the committer get a yellow card. Alas, it made little difference as he soon hobbled off in pain. Ooh err - another ruddy delay!
A lack of killer quality was apparent throughout with Warrington happy to see this one out and Altrincham to push and squeeze like a pregnant cow but to only give birth to a litter of disappointments. Numerous balls came into the guests box, heads aplenty met the in-swinging globes as well as fast reacting feet to clear the danger. The away keeper looked to be adopting a go-slow at work approach and stopped Altrincham from building any pure impetus. We were into the arse end of this dog-yard affair, Alty came, Hulme flicked a ball through, the sub Peers only had to finish but somehow managed to rasp over - would there be any other chances? A great last rally from the home birds, a shot, a miss, a corner. The ball was flung into the box, the seconds left were minimal. The ball was fumbled around, fell loose and led to a confusing scramble and a cross. A toe stabbed out, the ball was blocked but somehow rolled onwards - oh man, it was an equaliser, Poole had rescued a point, from the despairing depths final delight was plucked and when the official blew soon after many home fans looked cock-a-hoop with a point. The game wasn't a classic and didn't showcase the best of the players but Man of the match for me goes to Altrincham's No 4 (James Jones) who was a steadying influence with much composure and a good insight into the pattern of the game. This chap's performance kept his side in the game and undoubtedly helped them pinch a very fortunate point. Can't fault it!
FINAL THOUGHT - Frank Worthington was a piss-artist, Jimmy Saville a con artist, Houdini was an escape artist - can you guess which one Altrincham FC most resembled on today's performance? Watch what you say now, the charges from the last report have not been cleared yet - that judge is a right harsh git! And so, our rare foray into the upper realms of the Evo-Stik League saw two teams play out a draw today with Warrington obviously unlucky not to win it. They had a loose grip on the game and if certain half-chances aren't put away and an option taken to try and ride out the last 15 minutes is had, then the chances of falling foul and losing what little you have gained is highly probable. There is an art-form in going for the jugular - just ponder the antics of Bela Lugosi or that even bigger bloodsucking beast, Margaret Thatcher. Something for the Warrington lads to work on methinks. Altrincham on the other hand are obviously a decent side, look at their league position, but need to make sure they also take their chances when laid on a plate. The players need to consider the ball a sausage, and themselves as hungry vagabonds. The fried delight drops at the feet, time is of the essence and like any self-respecting tramp they should pounce and bury the bastard be it in the net rather then the stomach in this case. You know, it makes sense. And that is that, we shall dabble with some more Evo-Stik at some point and certainly keep an eye on these two teams but for now it is back to the North West Counties League, tis all football after all, and all at a decent, approachable level!
A good early turn by Warrington's No 9 (Jamie McDonald) who twisted the hips and won a free-kick. The bonus punt taken slammed against the wall and was hoofed clear but the attack was rebuilt. No 10 (Tony Gray) crossed from the flank and the crust of the No 11 (William Hayhurst) put the ball wide, it should have been at least on target. Besides this the start was rather scrappy, with No 10 (James Poole) for the Alt having a tepid try at goal and then up the other end his opposite number Gray, playing a sublime chip through and allowing McDonald to thwack with pace into the side-netting. It was a move that raised a roar from the crowd, it would have been a ruddy good goal that is for sure! The Robins came back with their red and white breast thrust high. Poole turned, laid off a pass to No 9 (Jordan Hulme) who shot low and hard. The legs of the visiting keeper splayed quicker than those of Joan Collins in a male brothel, the save was had. A few rough tackles came in, a few bookings also came. Altrincham began to turn up the heat, spraying the ball this way and that but with about as much threat as a toothless shark. The referee was making the match a struggle with a constant desire to show off his talents as a chat-show host and using every opportunity to wag the jaw - crikey, what a frustrating fella - Russell Harty on a foreigner no less (not literally though although you never could tell). Eventually Warrington came on, some weaving wing work and a cross saw the ball drop at the feet of No 8 (Dylan Vassallo) who duly volleyed with purpose. The sprawling mittman got his fingertips to the ball but it wasn't enough to stop it from rolling over the line and bringing up the first goal. It was the spark the game needed and a touch more urgency came amid a period of frantic end to end stuff.
Altrincham were being kept honest by Warrington's endless hustling but the home No 7 (John Johnston) was unfortunate not to see his colleague Hulme, make contact with a teasing cross cum semi-shot. It was Johnston again who was in the thick of the action when he chased a 50/50 ball and clattered the keeper. A bit of bitching and shopping bag swinging ensued - for me it was just an unlucky challenge. More bookings came as the scrappy affair fell apart but at the last the Robin's No 2 (Shaun Densmore) was involved in a lovely move that saw McDonald finalise only to be thwarted by the ever-ready keeper. The ref, an in fact most of the crowd, had seen enough. It was a time to refuel, rethink and come up with balls bared.
Myself and my good lady stayed put and chilled, there were a few on today (1419 I believe) and standing in a queue at the risk of missing some action is not what we like to do, so when the teams came out we were all prepared. This is what happened!
The Alt were quickest from the traps forcing the visiting No 1 (Anthony McMillan) to punch from a noggin and then save from No 3's (Connor Hampson) right foot pile-driver. A free-kick, a corner, a volley and a deflection all ended in a wild penalty claim, the referee was having none of it. A Yellow's break, counter-punched by a surge towards the opposite goal - all this mad dash mayhem resulted in was 2 more bookings - cripes, was the ref collecting names for a night on the tiles - the randy old git. Hampson came again for the hosts, he worked the flank and won a worthy corner but the resultant angled kick that came was shite - as was the shabby foul soon after that saw the committer get a yellow card. Alas, it made little difference as he soon hobbled off in pain. Ooh err - another ruddy delay!
A lack of killer quality was apparent throughout with Warrington happy to see this one out and Altrincham to push and squeeze like a pregnant cow but to only give birth to a litter of disappointments. Numerous balls came into the guests box, heads aplenty met the in-swinging globes as well as fast reacting feet to clear the danger. The away keeper looked to be adopting a go-slow at work approach and stopped Altrincham from building any pure impetus. We were into the arse end of this dog-yard affair, Alty came, Hulme flicked a ball through, the sub Peers only had to finish but somehow managed to rasp over - would there be any other chances? A great last rally from the home birds, a shot, a miss, a corner. The ball was flung into the box, the seconds left were minimal. The ball was fumbled around, fell loose and led to a confusing scramble and a cross. A toe stabbed out, the ball was blocked but somehow rolled onwards - oh man, it was an equaliser, Poole had rescued a point, from the despairing depths final delight was plucked and when the official blew soon after many home fans looked cock-a-hoop with a point. The game wasn't a classic and didn't showcase the best of the players but Man of the match for me goes to Altrincham's No 4 (James Jones) who was a steadying influence with much composure and a good insight into the pattern of the game. This chap's performance kept his side in the game and undoubtedly helped them pinch a very fortunate point. Can't fault it!
FINAL THOUGHT - Frank Worthington was a piss-artist, Jimmy Saville a con artist, Houdini was an escape artist - can you guess which one Altrincham FC most resembled on today's performance? Watch what you say now, the charges from the last report have not been cleared yet - that judge is a right harsh git! And so, our rare foray into the upper realms of the Evo-Stik League saw two teams play out a draw today with Warrington obviously unlucky not to win it. They had a loose grip on the game and if certain half-chances aren't put away and an option taken to try and ride out the last 15 minutes is had, then the chances of falling foul and losing what little you have gained is highly probable. There is an art-form in going for the jugular - just ponder the antics of Bela Lugosi or that even bigger bloodsucking beast, Margaret Thatcher. Something for the Warrington lads to work on methinks. Altrincham on the other hand are obviously a decent side, look at their league position, but need to make sure they also take their chances when laid on a plate. The players need to consider the ball a sausage, and themselves as hungry vagabonds. The fried delight drops at the feet, time is of the essence and like any self-respecting tramp they should pounce and bury the bastard be it in the net rather then the stomach in this case. You know, it makes sense. And that is that, we shall dabble with some more Evo-Stik at some point and certainly keep an eye on these two teams but for now it is back to the North West Counties League, tis all football after all, and all at a decent, approachable level!
Saturday 27 January 2018
EFFICIENCY PAR EXCELLENCE
26th January 2018 - Widnes FC 2 v 0 Runcorn Town - The weekend starts here, well that's what they said on that marvellous retro rock and roll show 'Ready, Steady, Go' - surely they weren't having us on. I hoped tonight's game was going to hold has much life and heady vitality as the barnet of Mr Keith Fordyce - what a bonny head of hair he had. Me and my good lady finished our working week, we had a quick nibble (food that is, you smutty devils), sorted out our directions and duly set off. Last time we headed this way we made a hash of the return journey and ended up pootling round the charms of Runcorn like a couple of budget Alan Whickers trying to scrape together a patchwork documentary. We arrived tonight safe and sound, got the regulation cuppa and headed out into the arena to ponder the night's action. 2 very good teams these, always a pleasure to watch and destined to take part in a match that could be anything from a scoreless draw to a striker's boom time - I would prefer the latter. So match 56 of the season, I am still enthused, excited and enthralled - are you?
The home side made all the early running with Runcorn seemingly happy to feed the front 2 with a variety of long balls. The visitors though seemed in a constant flap and when, on the 7th minute, a couple of weak Widnes passes were not dealt with it was the quintessential nuisance No 7 (George Lomax) who snuck in for the hosts and bumbled in a real ugly looking goal. Ugly or not though, as Quasimodo once lovingly said of all his grotesque children, 'they all count'. Runcorn were now Elvis-like (All shook up) and looked to find a semblance of cohesion. Lomax was soon through the struggling pack once more and he executed a quite sublime chip finish that, if it wasn't for the pesky liner's flapping flag, would have seen us witness a real choice goal - them's the breaks squire! Shortly after and the same player tried the same move again, this time the move was unmolested by a waving pendant but the strike was off target and let a lucky Runcorn side off the ever-present hook. A static period came, Widnes broke the dip when a quick double pass allowed No 10 (Jack Graham) to disappointingly blaze over! This was becoming too easy for the hosts and Runcorn were being bedazzled by their opponents acute movement, efficient organisation and all round hassling antics. Again the black and white boys came, the eternally advancing No 2 (Jay Roberts) burst forth, put in a cross and saw Lomax only millimetres away from nudging the ball home and creating a quite worthy lead. Runcorn now used this scare as a catalyst and eventually started to gain possession of the elusive globe. All options were closed though and Widnes were applying an effervescent pressure that was apparent throughout the squad. This pressure forced the visiting No 7 (Aaron Hassall) to produce a sloppy back header that allowed his opposite number (Kevin Towey) to sneak in and try an impudent chip. It was a glorious chance, it was gloriously missed - bah!
A rare Runcorn surge came, the admirable determination of No 3 (Michael Carberry) won a corner but the angled ball was dire and only led to a swift counterpunch that saw a glanced header fall to the feet of No 11 (Chris Lomax) who shot and missed by a mile. It was another chance gone and I did wonder if the worm of spite would turn and cause the team in the ascendancy to rue the chances lost. Runcorn came on, put in a good effort to stem the flow, but Widnes had the last two efforts of the half with Roberts working the flank and winning a corner that once more lacked quality and then a last gasp free-kick was saved with ease and sent us into the break as we were. A nicely balanced scoreline not indicative of what transpired but when there is only one goal separating the teams the end prize is still up for grabs.
Half-time - we chatted and chomped on a few biscuits - Crunch Creams for me, Fig Rolls for the lass - yummy, scrummy ding, dong!
The teams came back out, Towey of Widnes raced away with early focus, mugged a defender and let fly. The shot cut through the night air and sailed over - it would have been a most ideal start for all neutrals and of course, the home 'erberts. The hosts had their tails up, No 3 (Phil Doran) progressed with purpose, placed a pass to Towey who swivelled with his back to goal, faced the target and slapped into the top corner with seasoned ease - what a great finish, what a way to double the lead! Runcorn could only respond to this second kick in the nether-regions with a duff free-kick, it just was never going to be their night. Doran came again for The Whites, he started a tidy move and finished close in with power outweighing precision - close but no cookie sir! The short-distance travellers began to sweat blood in their endeavours to get back into this one but for me, the Widnes rearguard were as tight as the buttocks of Wayne Sleep (so I am told) and as clinical as Bernard Matthews in a hen-house (nasty bugger). This was a prime example of defense being the first line of attack - an outstanding effort.
A dip in excitement came, Runcorn were as toothless as Albert Steptoe and Widnes were as suffocating as Hattie Jacques in a telephone box (but man, what an experience that would be). George Lomax for the black and whites had a decent double punt but the guest mittman did enough with various parts of his anatomy. A few subs impeded the flow as did a few injuries and when we did get underway it was still a case of Runcorn trying to penetrate the seemingly impermeable. A few sequinned handbags were swung, another injury held up play but from the mire No 8 (Sean Myler) for the home lads rattled the bar with a decent free-punt. The visiting keeper was called to action not long after when a shot from the Widnes substitute (Ben Hodkinson) was sweetly saved. It was all academic however as the offside flag was up, even this small glint of success was stolen from a struggling squad - sometimes the beautiful game can be one nasty old crone. The last two chances came, Doran in for Myler who fired over and left his team still 2 up and at the very last it was another Widnes sub (Stuart Cook) who was through with a smart run and who finished with a shot that just snuck past the post - unlucky fella! The middle official blew, we were done, the stadium emptied quicker than Ben Hur's Bowels on a dodgy chariot and we tootled off home, listening to a 1951 adaptation of 'The Day of the Triffids' - gotta keep the head ticking tha' knows! Man of the Match tonight could have been one of many for The Whites but I am opting for their No 3 (Phil Doran) who was solid, reliable, strong throughout and, if truth be told, was unlucky not to get a couple of assists and a goal, not bad for a defensive bod hey.
FINAL THOUGHT - For me, and I suspect the other 255 punters in the stadium, this was a turn up for the books. The efficiency, work rate and all round forcefulness of Widnes FC totally dictated this match and one would have never believed that this was a contest between the 2nd and 3rd positioned clubs in the Premier League. Runcorn were bossed and bullied and in brutal truth, outwitted in most areas of the park and looked like a team in disarray - very say to see from a unit that usually brings so much more to the table. Perhaps an off-night, perhaps a taste of things to come - I certainly hope it is a case of the former and the team get back to winning ways soon enough. When the wheels come off it can be hard work getting any forward motion going again, just ask Stephen Hawking after he crashed into that milk float - what a struggle that was! Let us not take anything away from Widnes though, a real complete and convincing performance this and surely reflecting a side who are just going to keep on getting better and better. The fact is, even when they aren't in possession of the ball they are still dictating matters, a real rare commodity indeed and one that will always keep them competitive and troublesome. We shall be back at The Select Stadium, we never come away disappointed - today it was a case of 'ditto'.
The home side made all the early running with Runcorn seemingly happy to feed the front 2 with a variety of long balls. The visitors though seemed in a constant flap and when, on the 7th minute, a couple of weak Widnes passes were not dealt with it was the quintessential nuisance No 7 (George Lomax) who snuck in for the hosts and bumbled in a real ugly looking goal. Ugly or not though, as Quasimodo once lovingly said of all his grotesque children, 'they all count'. Runcorn were now Elvis-like (All shook up) and looked to find a semblance of cohesion. Lomax was soon through the struggling pack once more and he executed a quite sublime chip finish that, if it wasn't for the pesky liner's flapping flag, would have seen us witness a real choice goal - them's the breaks squire! Shortly after and the same player tried the same move again, this time the move was unmolested by a waving pendant but the strike was off target and let a lucky Runcorn side off the ever-present hook. A static period came, Widnes broke the dip when a quick double pass allowed No 10 (Jack Graham) to disappointingly blaze over! This was becoming too easy for the hosts and Runcorn were being bedazzled by their opponents acute movement, efficient organisation and all round hassling antics. Again the black and white boys came, the eternally advancing No 2 (Jay Roberts) burst forth, put in a cross and saw Lomax only millimetres away from nudging the ball home and creating a quite worthy lead. Runcorn now used this scare as a catalyst and eventually started to gain possession of the elusive globe. All options were closed though and Widnes were applying an effervescent pressure that was apparent throughout the squad. This pressure forced the visiting No 7 (Aaron Hassall) to produce a sloppy back header that allowed his opposite number (Kevin Towey) to sneak in and try an impudent chip. It was a glorious chance, it was gloriously missed - bah!
A rare Runcorn surge came, the admirable determination of No 3 (Michael Carberry) won a corner but the angled ball was dire and only led to a swift counterpunch that saw a glanced header fall to the feet of No 11 (Chris Lomax) who shot and missed by a mile. It was another chance gone and I did wonder if the worm of spite would turn and cause the team in the ascendancy to rue the chances lost. Runcorn came on, put in a good effort to stem the flow, but Widnes had the last two efforts of the half with Roberts working the flank and winning a corner that once more lacked quality and then a last gasp free-kick was saved with ease and sent us into the break as we were. A nicely balanced scoreline not indicative of what transpired but when there is only one goal separating the teams the end prize is still up for grabs.
Half-time - we chatted and chomped on a few biscuits - Crunch Creams for me, Fig Rolls for the lass - yummy, scrummy ding, dong!
The teams came back out, Towey of Widnes raced away with early focus, mugged a defender and let fly. The shot cut through the night air and sailed over - it would have been a most ideal start for all neutrals and of course, the home 'erberts. The hosts had their tails up, No 3 (Phil Doran) progressed with purpose, placed a pass to Towey who swivelled with his back to goal, faced the target and slapped into the top corner with seasoned ease - what a great finish, what a way to double the lead! Runcorn could only respond to this second kick in the nether-regions with a duff free-kick, it just was never going to be their night. Doran came again for The Whites, he started a tidy move and finished close in with power outweighing precision - close but no cookie sir! The short-distance travellers began to sweat blood in their endeavours to get back into this one but for me, the Widnes rearguard were as tight as the buttocks of Wayne Sleep (so I am told) and as clinical as Bernard Matthews in a hen-house (nasty bugger). This was a prime example of defense being the first line of attack - an outstanding effort.
A dip in excitement came, Runcorn were as toothless as Albert Steptoe and Widnes were as suffocating as Hattie Jacques in a telephone box (but man, what an experience that would be). George Lomax for the black and whites had a decent double punt but the guest mittman did enough with various parts of his anatomy. A few subs impeded the flow as did a few injuries and when we did get underway it was still a case of Runcorn trying to penetrate the seemingly impermeable. A few sequinned handbags were swung, another injury held up play but from the mire No 8 (Sean Myler) for the home lads rattled the bar with a decent free-punt. The visiting keeper was called to action not long after when a shot from the Widnes substitute (Ben Hodkinson) was sweetly saved. It was all academic however as the offside flag was up, even this small glint of success was stolen from a struggling squad - sometimes the beautiful game can be one nasty old crone. The last two chances came, Doran in for Myler who fired over and left his team still 2 up and at the very last it was another Widnes sub (Stuart Cook) who was through with a smart run and who finished with a shot that just snuck past the post - unlucky fella! The middle official blew, we were done, the stadium emptied quicker than Ben Hur's Bowels on a dodgy chariot and we tootled off home, listening to a 1951 adaptation of 'The Day of the Triffids' - gotta keep the head ticking tha' knows! Man of the Match tonight could have been one of many for The Whites but I am opting for their No 3 (Phil Doran) who was solid, reliable, strong throughout and, if truth be told, was unlucky not to get a couple of assists and a goal, not bad for a defensive bod hey.
FINAL THOUGHT - For me, and I suspect the other 255 punters in the stadium, this was a turn up for the books. The efficiency, work rate and all round forcefulness of Widnes FC totally dictated this match and one would have never believed that this was a contest between the 2nd and 3rd positioned clubs in the Premier League. Runcorn were bossed and bullied and in brutal truth, outwitted in most areas of the park and looked like a team in disarray - very say to see from a unit that usually brings so much more to the table. Perhaps an off-night, perhaps a taste of things to come - I certainly hope it is a case of the former and the team get back to winning ways soon enough. When the wheels come off it can be hard work getting any forward motion going again, just ask Stephen Hawking after he crashed into that milk float - what a struggle that was! Let us not take anything away from Widnes though, a real complete and convincing performance this and surely reflecting a side who are just going to keep on getting better and better. The fact is, even when they aren't in possession of the ball they are still dictating matters, a real rare commodity indeed and one that will always keep them competitive and troublesome. We shall be back at The Select Stadium, we never come away disappointed - today it was a case of 'ditto'.
Thursday 25 January 2018
LITHER GRAND
24th January 2018 - Cheadle Town 0 v 5 Litherland Remyca - A windblown ride to work, a trip out to a farm with many wrong turnings taken, tea and cake in Pendle Village and a catch up of some office work was the order of the day for this busy bugger. Home and last nights footy report was completed, dishes done and tea in the oven before a chat with the good lady and a sprawl about. The hour to shift the rear came, I got dressed and offered to walk to the match but my good lady is a kind soul and dropped me off with a kiss - what a lucky Fungalised Punk git I am! I took up my position, nattered to a familiar face and once more pondered the outcome. The guests tonight are a good side and for me held far more aces in the pack than the unpredictable home bods. The pitch was heavy though and not designed for on the deck football, would that be a telling factor? Or would the Greens come out in one of their sprightly moods and upset the apple-cart? One thing I reckoned though was that there were goals in them thar boots tonight, goals galore - but who would be the buggers grabbing them? Read on, and find out in this latest installment of Non-League Wanderings...please add own theme tune! Throughout the match I chatted to Rob York, the Stockport Town assistant secretary and to the Dad of the Cheadle mittman, 2 decent blokes and enjoying the fine game - good on em'.
It was a good start for the Green Army on the cutting turf with lots of vitality shown and feisty desire. No 7 (Callum Collinson) had an early range finder that raised a few away hairs of panic but the ball whizzed wide and we moved on. Both units were testing the feel of the pitch, the squelches could be heard in the stands and reminded me of the time when I got locked in a zoo and had to spend the night next to a couple of sexed up Hippos - ooh those randy buggers! Cheadle continued to play with zip and exposed Litherland's commitment and, in some respects, honesty. Remyca eventually found their feet, a free-kick was gained after a clumsy tackle. The ball in was played and a free header had, fortunately for the home team it was straight at the No 1 (Daniel Whiting). Another free-kick soon after was taken quickly, a short pass caught the home birds snoozing and when No 10 (Colin Quirk) connected from all of 20 yards the mittman could only watch it blaze over his head, scratch the underside of the crossbar and settle into the net. Great goal, what accuracy! Cheadle responded well, 2 corners were had but both lacked any penetrating quality. Litherland had a corner of their own finalised by a looping punt and then quickly followed up by a rasping shot from No 11 who was put off by the advancing keeper and only found polluted air rather than the awaiting mesh.
A bland period followed, it didn't last long, the robust No 9 (Colin McDonald) was through and when the last man of Cheadle abandoned his line we all should have witnessed the second goal of the night but the globe was blasted into the sky and we stayed as we were. On the 27th minute Cheadle came and from a moment of vagueness a penalty claim was had, the referee pointed to the spot but a gut punch into the belly of promise was had when the liner waved his flag and put pay to any Cheadle claims. Cheadle, to their credit, used this moment of dubiousness to rekindle the flames of dogged determination and started to more than hold their own. Eventually they were in, No 9 (Adam Gardiner) was racing away, he had the chance to shoot early but shied away from the trigger pull and, as a result, the gloved protector dashed out and duly blocked. The hosts piled on more pressure, the Litherland bench and followers gave the linesman grief but despite all the home spirit the cut-throat decisions made at the last were always the wrong ones. Late on and The Remyca had a corner, a nut put the ball goalward, the home No 1 fumbled and a goal line clearance was needed. The shit end of the stick came, it was the guests who went for the jugular with No 7 (Paul Foy) in and shooting. The keeper dropped, sprawled, stuck out a leg and saved the day. 1 - 0 it was, Cheadle were still in this but needed to get on their scoring boots.
The break was spent chin-wagging with the aforementioned blokes, it doesn't half make the hands of the clock turn with pace - and I never did tell them about the Paul Mariner tattoo on me arse, pity the brown leather ball he his kicking has a hole in it!
Half two and both teams came out playing with liberation and a certain abandonment. Cheadle had a half-chance which was easily quelled and then a lucky ball in saw the away keeper get clobbered for his troubles but he did enough and he kept his scoresheet pristine. McDonald for Litherland Remyca looked on the prowl and after thumping over from distance I nudged my colleague and suggested he will certainly be getting a sniff at goal. Cheadle were getting rattled and when they took their eye off the ball and McDonald latched onto a pass, all they could do was watch him weave around the goalkeeper and peel away to take the applause and cheers. Moments later the same assassin was in again, a downright cheeky chip that was inches offline - now that would have been a crippler. Cheadle tried to find some glint of hope but they could only summon the odd shot which was far from troublesome for the keeper with No 11 (Chris Sherrington) providing one such example. This effort duly led to a break, the ball was deflected out wide, played in and nutted home by the Foy who had room to convert, scratch his knackers and order the morning paper - slack work at the back if you ask me. Litherland's Quirk provided the next talking point with an audacious effort just inside the Cheadle half. The keeper back peddled, and collected, it was easy in the end but one slip...and the fan would be shit-splattered for sure.
Into the arse end of the affair, Foy for The Reds on a mission. Head down, feet pumping, hips turning, past the keeper and goal number 4 was had. A lesson in taking your chances for sure, a well earned strike for a player always willing to test the opponents stamina and concentration. Within seconds the same player was in again after a rear guard mix up - this time he got over-excited and shot like a wildman on goofballs - as you can imagine, he was way off the mark. The guests were coasting now, Cheadle were out of ideas and looked to have capitulated. Whiting had to make a decent save to stop the fifth and when Cheadle did come, No 10 (Richard Whyatt) was in and missed from mere inches out. The home sub had a dig next but dragged the ball wide which, in many respects summed up his sides efforts - wide of the quality mark. Litherland weren't done yet and on the 86th minute a ball went into the danger area, fell loose and up stepped Paul Foy to complete the drubbing. The game was called to a halt soon after, and that my dear reader, was that. There is only one team the Man of the Match can come from and that is Litherland Remyca. The player who gets the nod is the No 3 (Jake Connor) for contributing to a clean sheet, maintaining his concentration and battling away up until the very last. One small part in a very efficient machine - tidy!
FINAL THOUGHT - So, a thumping away win and highlighting the difference between the two teams, which, despite a cruddy playing surface, was blatantly visible to all onlooking eyes. Litherland had greater discipline, kept their positions better when not on the ball, passed with greater control and played the game at their pace, not at their opponents. They also took their chances when it mattered and showed when in the trenches and struggling for fluidity they can still cultivate a chance out of almost nothing. The team are not in second position for nothing, they are certainly going to be in the shake up come end of season. Cheadle are still an enigma and never seem to be the same team twice. They blow hot, they blow cold, there seems to be no middle crowd and where they will end up is anyone's guess. There has been movement at the club, the inner bowels of constipation may be blown clean or a full on evacuation may take place with shit everywhere besides in the blades of the fan. One thing is for sure, every time you turn up at Park Road, you never know what the scoreline will be - maybe that is how many prefer it to be - there are some right perverts out there don't ya know!
It was a good start for the Green Army on the cutting turf with lots of vitality shown and feisty desire. No 7 (Callum Collinson) had an early range finder that raised a few away hairs of panic but the ball whizzed wide and we moved on. Both units were testing the feel of the pitch, the squelches could be heard in the stands and reminded me of the time when I got locked in a zoo and had to spend the night next to a couple of sexed up Hippos - ooh those randy buggers! Cheadle continued to play with zip and exposed Litherland's commitment and, in some respects, honesty. Remyca eventually found their feet, a free-kick was gained after a clumsy tackle. The ball in was played and a free header had, fortunately for the home team it was straight at the No 1 (Daniel Whiting). Another free-kick soon after was taken quickly, a short pass caught the home birds snoozing and when No 10 (Colin Quirk) connected from all of 20 yards the mittman could only watch it blaze over his head, scratch the underside of the crossbar and settle into the net. Great goal, what accuracy! Cheadle responded well, 2 corners were had but both lacked any penetrating quality. Litherland had a corner of their own finalised by a looping punt and then quickly followed up by a rasping shot from No 11 who was put off by the advancing keeper and only found polluted air rather than the awaiting mesh.
A bland period followed, it didn't last long, the robust No 9 (Colin McDonald) was through and when the last man of Cheadle abandoned his line we all should have witnessed the second goal of the night but the globe was blasted into the sky and we stayed as we were. On the 27th minute Cheadle came and from a moment of vagueness a penalty claim was had, the referee pointed to the spot but a gut punch into the belly of promise was had when the liner waved his flag and put pay to any Cheadle claims. Cheadle, to their credit, used this moment of dubiousness to rekindle the flames of dogged determination and started to more than hold their own. Eventually they were in, No 9 (Adam Gardiner) was racing away, he had the chance to shoot early but shied away from the trigger pull and, as a result, the gloved protector dashed out and duly blocked. The hosts piled on more pressure, the Litherland bench and followers gave the linesman grief but despite all the home spirit the cut-throat decisions made at the last were always the wrong ones. Late on and The Remyca had a corner, a nut put the ball goalward, the home No 1 fumbled and a goal line clearance was needed. The shit end of the stick came, it was the guests who went for the jugular with No 7 (Paul Foy) in and shooting. The keeper dropped, sprawled, stuck out a leg and saved the day. 1 - 0 it was, Cheadle were still in this but needed to get on their scoring boots.
The break was spent chin-wagging with the aforementioned blokes, it doesn't half make the hands of the clock turn with pace - and I never did tell them about the Paul Mariner tattoo on me arse, pity the brown leather ball he his kicking has a hole in it!
Half two and both teams came out playing with liberation and a certain abandonment. Cheadle had a half-chance which was easily quelled and then a lucky ball in saw the away keeper get clobbered for his troubles but he did enough and he kept his scoresheet pristine. McDonald for Litherland Remyca looked on the prowl and after thumping over from distance I nudged my colleague and suggested he will certainly be getting a sniff at goal. Cheadle were getting rattled and when they took their eye off the ball and McDonald latched onto a pass, all they could do was watch him weave around the goalkeeper and peel away to take the applause and cheers. Moments later the same assassin was in again, a downright cheeky chip that was inches offline - now that would have been a crippler. Cheadle tried to find some glint of hope but they could only summon the odd shot which was far from troublesome for the keeper with No 11 (Chris Sherrington) providing one such example. This effort duly led to a break, the ball was deflected out wide, played in and nutted home by the Foy who had room to convert, scratch his knackers and order the morning paper - slack work at the back if you ask me. Litherland's Quirk provided the next talking point with an audacious effort just inside the Cheadle half. The keeper back peddled, and collected, it was easy in the end but one slip...and the fan would be shit-splattered for sure.
Into the arse end of the affair, Foy for The Reds on a mission. Head down, feet pumping, hips turning, past the keeper and goal number 4 was had. A lesson in taking your chances for sure, a well earned strike for a player always willing to test the opponents stamina and concentration. Within seconds the same player was in again after a rear guard mix up - this time he got over-excited and shot like a wildman on goofballs - as you can imagine, he was way off the mark. The guests were coasting now, Cheadle were out of ideas and looked to have capitulated. Whiting had to make a decent save to stop the fifth and when Cheadle did come, No 10 (Richard Whyatt) was in and missed from mere inches out. The home sub had a dig next but dragged the ball wide which, in many respects summed up his sides efforts - wide of the quality mark. Litherland weren't done yet and on the 86th minute a ball went into the danger area, fell loose and up stepped Paul Foy to complete the drubbing. The game was called to a halt soon after, and that my dear reader, was that. There is only one team the Man of the Match can come from and that is Litherland Remyca. The player who gets the nod is the No 3 (Jake Connor) for contributing to a clean sheet, maintaining his concentration and battling away up until the very last. One small part in a very efficient machine - tidy!
FINAL THOUGHT - So, a thumping away win and highlighting the difference between the two teams, which, despite a cruddy playing surface, was blatantly visible to all onlooking eyes. Litherland had greater discipline, kept their positions better when not on the ball, passed with greater control and played the game at their pace, not at their opponents. They also took their chances when it mattered and showed when in the trenches and struggling for fluidity they can still cultivate a chance out of almost nothing. The team are not in second position for nothing, they are certainly going to be in the shake up come end of season. Cheadle are still an enigma and never seem to be the same team twice. They blow hot, they blow cold, there seems to be no middle crowd and where they will end up is anyone's guess. There has been movement at the club, the inner bowels of constipation may be blown clean or a full on evacuation may take place with shit everywhere besides in the blades of the fan. One thing is for sure, every time you turn up at Park Road, you never know what the scoreline will be - maybe that is how many prefer it to be - there are some right perverts out there don't ya know!
Wednesday 24 January 2018
SALMONERS SMOKED
23rd January 2018 - West Didsbury & Chorlton 4 v 1 AFC Darwen - Tweets were twanging this way, that way and t'other as many peeps wondered how the pitch would hold up for tonight's Premier League game on a somewhat mild and sedate day. The go ahead was given, I prepared for my 55th game of the season with some after-work exercising and a simple tea. A home win looked a certainty tonight with the visiting troop of ball kickers having something of a dire season. For me, if Darwen could pinch a win it would surely throw a soiled pair of underpants in the laundry basket of the lower league and add to the increasing stench around those in the mire. I indulged in a bit of chiromancy and came up with a home win, I checked the tea leaves after slurping a cup of the old chimp's tonic which resulted in a scoreline of home sway and I cracked open a fortune cookie to read the following suggestive hint - 'The breast of the West shall leek tit milk of triumph'. It seemed a sure fire thing that the Recreation Ground residents were going to win but, just for further certainty, I contacted a local medium known as 'Predictable Pamela the One Eyed Witch' whom, after catching me sniggering at her lone orb, told me that the WDC mob would win but if I placed a wager and committed the crime of gambling that, after collecting my winnings, I would be set upon and beaten up by 5 Claire Rayner look-a-likes. Mmm - perhaps I will just watch the match and leave prophecy to those in the know! My good lady dropped me off, I took up my point of peeping and watched the game unfold before me.
Studded boot kissed spherical leather, opposing sets of quadriceps got pumping (and I thought that only happened in the zoo) and the emerald crystal kissed baize was pounded with passion. The first major glimpse of glory came when the hosts thrust within the opening minute. A sprayed ball found No 7 (Ben Steer) who moved with intent, put in a cross and found the bonse of No 9 (Thomas Bailey). The ball flew off the nugget with pace but was too firm and sailed above the horizontal. Within seconds good pace was shown from No 11 (Ashley Woods) who chased a slotted through ball but was denied by an alert keeper who was out and down to smother in the blinking of a beady eye. I was struggling to keep up with these early assaults when No 8 (John Sergeant) sent in a wind whistler, once more off target but upholding the desire and relentless early pressure of the home team. Steer was soon to follow with a punt of his own after cutting in with ease and swinging the peg. Yes, you guessed it - wide of the mark but surely the first goal was imminent. Darwen somehow found a chance to advance with several passes across the box being finalised by a shot that was followed by a claim for a goal. Somehow the mittman saved on the line and just kept the ball from entering the strike zone - now that would have been a shocker! After this glimpse of positivity a crippling negative struck the visiting team when a hopeful long ball by the WDC crew fell into space and the Darwen No 1 made a claim for it to be his and his alone. He swung a leg to hoof clear, completely miskicked and in snuck Bailey, took one touch and then tapped home to give his side the lead. The guests had barely recovered when Woods won a 50/50 ball, streaked the flank and put in a pinpoint perfect cross for Bailey to pick up on and finish with ease. 2 goals to the good now and WDC came once more with the most basic of through balls dissecting the Darwen rearguard and seeing Bailey nip in, round the keeper and bring up his hat-trick and his teams 3rd - what a start and with only 19 minutes on the clock. Darwen would do well to avoid a whitewash here, my fingers were crossed.
Onwards we went, Woods of The West was involved in some superb link up play, drove into the box and was mightily unlucky now to finish the move with a goal - it certainly deserved it. A rare wander by Darwen into territory unknown ended when their No 9 (Ryan Steele) tried a dipping shot that looped a little too late and fell behind the awaiting net - unlucky indeed. More West Didsbury & Chorlton action soon followed with Steer pounding one in, a penalty shout offered and then the same occurrence at the other end. As the half wound down Darwen were working hard to achieve balance with their No 5 (Martin Parker) sweating blood to try and enthuse his fellow strugglers. Alas towards the dregs of the first half we went and it was Woods and No 10 (Joseph Shaw) who combined for WDC with a lovely chip culminating the move and only just missing the frame. Now that would have been icing on the cake. The ref halted proceedings soon after - many questions needed to pondered regarding this game, the chief of which was how the travellers would get back into it - it looked nigh on impossible!
During the interval I chomped on some real toffee and watched a few night-time trains pass by in the sable distance. There is something fascinating about these illuminated modes of transport passing by in the darkened hours. Where were they going? Who was on board? What did their lives entail? Combine these posers with that subtle trundling sound, subdued by the distance between lug and engine and for me at least, the pleasant distraction is complete. I could add a little extra about a nude Jones The Steam stoking the coals and Casey Jones pulling his hooter but that would just be silly!
Back to the game and the second half started in a somewhat quiet fashion with an equilibrium between the two sides had. Gradually through the home team turned the screw and a few Darwen players started bickering between themselves (never a good sign) and when a home free-kick was beautifully played forth by No 3 (Cavel Coo) and the pate of Shaw rose and nutted wide one felt that the next killer goal wasn't that far away. Incredibly it was The Salmoners who came on strong and slipped through the sleeping waters of the home defence and the wriggling fish known as No 11 (Bobby Langford) splashed the net with a cool finish under mounting pressure. Was this the turning point that would see this school of hoofers fight against the swim and surge upstream - my rod was twitching with interest! Surprisingly WDC looked rattled and Darwen flapped their fins of belief with renewed vigour. Against this growing threat though WDC dug in, won a free-kick and two corners - all amounting to little but showing that the threat levels were still high and although a maggot of hope had been dangled, a hook was there to snag the unwary.
Darwen continued to strive for an opening, it was just at the last moment that a wrong decision was made and opportunity went AWOL. At the back the travelling side now looked to have more adhesion and have a greater understanding of one another's positioning. Having said this, Woods for the hosts, was put through by a sublime ball and it looked as though the game was sealed but a neat and efficient save denied him his just reward. 2 corners followed, in truth I could have done better wearing flippers and with a sombrero on (the sombrero is for purely sexual reasons). 2 WDC subs came, another corner was backed up with 2 shots that were duly blocked by flung carcasses and as time ticked on the game looked as though it would stay as it was. Unfortunately For Darwen Woods had other ideas and when in the box with the ball at his feet he turned on a 10 bob bit and thumped home with pure focus - the game was now done. The closing period was tame with little else to report and when the man in black called for time it was just as well - I was getting a bit chilled. Man of the Match tonight goes to the home No 11 (Ashley Woods) who I thought showed great willingness to be creative, applied some neat touches and ran himself ragged to get that much deserved goal - I like yer style chap! I buggered off home after an entertaining evening - boy the tea and ginger biscuits went down good!
FINAL THOUGHT - West Didsbury and Chorlton seemed to have seen out their bad period and now look like settling into a run of better form, on this evidence I can envisage many wins in the back end of the season with some players really beginning to shine and proving their potential. They will always be well supported and so they should be - they play some tidy football, have a good set up going and, if they start serving chips I reckon they could start pulling people in by the hundreds - hint, hint! Darwen look up shit street without money for a taxi - it can be a horrible place and, if one doesn't watch it, the shit can cause bigger slips and down the U-bend one can go, never to return. I don't know what the answer is, they have some good players, a good work ethic and their ground is a darn nice place ideal for measured and effective football. For me they need to commit more, take a chance and tighten up that rearguard - communication and hard drills are needed so that all areas play as a pack. I am sure many more touchline twats such as I have an opinion to air, it is par for the course and let us be honest, it is all there to be taken or discarded if the truth be told. I don't mind this advice especially during the winter months - hot air is good for the gonads don't ya know!
Studded boot kissed spherical leather, opposing sets of quadriceps got pumping (and I thought that only happened in the zoo) and the emerald crystal kissed baize was pounded with passion. The first major glimpse of glory came when the hosts thrust within the opening minute. A sprayed ball found No 7 (Ben Steer) who moved with intent, put in a cross and found the bonse of No 9 (Thomas Bailey). The ball flew off the nugget with pace but was too firm and sailed above the horizontal. Within seconds good pace was shown from No 11 (Ashley Woods) who chased a slotted through ball but was denied by an alert keeper who was out and down to smother in the blinking of a beady eye. I was struggling to keep up with these early assaults when No 8 (John Sergeant) sent in a wind whistler, once more off target but upholding the desire and relentless early pressure of the home team. Steer was soon to follow with a punt of his own after cutting in with ease and swinging the peg. Yes, you guessed it - wide of the mark but surely the first goal was imminent. Darwen somehow found a chance to advance with several passes across the box being finalised by a shot that was followed by a claim for a goal. Somehow the mittman saved on the line and just kept the ball from entering the strike zone - now that would have been a shocker! After this glimpse of positivity a crippling negative struck the visiting team when a hopeful long ball by the WDC crew fell into space and the Darwen No 1 made a claim for it to be his and his alone. He swung a leg to hoof clear, completely miskicked and in snuck Bailey, took one touch and then tapped home to give his side the lead. The guests had barely recovered when Woods won a 50/50 ball, streaked the flank and put in a pinpoint perfect cross for Bailey to pick up on and finish with ease. 2 goals to the good now and WDC came once more with the most basic of through balls dissecting the Darwen rearguard and seeing Bailey nip in, round the keeper and bring up his hat-trick and his teams 3rd - what a start and with only 19 minutes on the clock. Darwen would do well to avoid a whitewash here, my fingers were crossed.
Onwards we went, Woods of The West was involved in some superb link up play, drove into the box and was mightily unlucky now to finish the move with a goal - it certainly deserved it. A rare wander by Darwen into territory unknown ended when their No 9 (Ryan Steele) tried a dipping shot that looped a little too late and fell behind the awaiting net - unlucky indeed. More West Didsbury & Chorlton action soon followed with Steer pounding one in, a penalty shout offered and then the same occurrence at the other end. As the half wound down Darwen were working hard to achieve balance with their No 5 (Martin Parker) sweating blood to try and enthuse his fellow strugglers. Alas towards the dregs of the first half we went and it was Woods and No 10 (Joseph Shaw) who combined for WDC with a lovely chip culminating the move and only just missing the frame. Now that would have been icing on the cake. The ref halted proceedings soon after - many questions needed to pondered regarding this game, the chief of which was how the travellers would get back into it - it looked nigh on impossible!
During the interval I chomped on some real toffee and watched a few night-time trains pass by in the sable distance. There is something fascinating about these illuminated modes of transport passing by in the darkened hours. Where were they going? Who was on board? What did their lives entail? Combine these posers with that subtle trundling sound, subdued by the distance between lug and engine and for me at least, the pleasant distraction is complete. I could add a little extra about a nude Jones The Steam stoking the coals and Casey Jones pulling his hooter but that would just be silly!
Back to the game and the second half started in a somewhat quiet fashion with an equilibrium between the two sides had. Gradually through the home team turned the screw and a few Darwen players started bickering between themselves (never a good sign) and when a home free-kick was beautifully played forth by No 3 (Cavel Coo) and the pate of Shaw rose and nutted wide one felt that the next killer goal wasn't that far away. Incredibly it was The Salmoners who came on strong and slipped through the sleeping waters of the home defence and the wriggling fish known as No 11 (Bobby Langford) splashed the net with a cool finish under mounting pressure. Was this the turning point that would see this school of hoofers fight against the swim and surge upstream - my rod was twitching with interest! Surprisingly WDC looked rattled and Darwen flapped their fins of belief with renewed vigour. Against this growing threat though WDC dug in, won a free-kick and two corners - all amounting to little but showing that the threat levels were still high and although a maggot of hope had been dangled, a hook was there to snag the unwary.
Darwen continued to strive for an opening, it was just at the last moment that a wrong decision was made and opportunity went AWOL. At the back the travelling side now looked to have more adhesion and have a greater understanding of one another's positioning. Having said this, Woods for the hosts, was put through by a sublime ball and it looked as though the game was sealed but a neat and efficient save denied him his just reward. 2 corners followed, in truth I could have done better wearing flippers and with a sombrero on (the sombrero is for purely sexual reasons). 2 WDC subs came, another corner was backed up with 2 shots that were duly blocked by flung carcasses and as time ticked on the game looked as though it would stay as it was. Unfortunately For Darwen Woods had other ideas and when in the box with the ball at his feet he turned on a 10 bob bit and thumped home with pure focus - the game was now done. The closing period was tame with little else to report and when the man in black called for time it was just as well - I was getting a bit chilled. Man of the Match tonight goes to the home No 11 (Ashley Woods) who I thought showed great willingness to be creative, applied some neat touches and ran himself ragged to get that much deserved goal - I like yer style chap! I buggered off home after an entertaining evening - boy the tea and ginger biscuits went down good!
FINAL THOUGHT - West Didsbury and Chorlton seemed to have seen out their bad period and now look like settling into a run of better form, on this evidence I can envisage many wins in the back end of the season with some players really beginning to shine and proving their potential. They will always be well supported and so they should be - they play some tidy football, have a good set up going and, if they start serving chips I reckon they could start pulling people in by the hundreds - hint, hint! Darwen look up shit street without money for a taxi - it can be a horrible place and, if one doesn't watch it, the shit can cause bigger slips and down the U-bend one can go, never to return. I don't know what the answer is, they have some good players, a good work ethic and their ground is a darn nice place ideal for measured and effective football. For me they need to commit more, take a chance and tighten up that rearguard - communication and hard drills are needed so that all areas play as a pack. I am sure many more touchline twats such as I have an opinion to air, it is par for the course and let us be honest, it is all there to be taken or discarded if the truth be told. I don't mind this advice especially during the winter months - hot air is good for the gonads don't ya know!
Sunday 21 January 2018
THE AMBIGUITY OF WHAT IS FAIR
20th January 2018 - Maine Road 2 v 3 1874 Northwich - The misery of winter carries on and an early morning bike ride left me with a mud-splattered carcass, a small bird and fungus list, steamed up glasses and an arse as purple as that of a rogered gibbon. I did some chores, had dinner with the good lady and having just fought off the chill headed out to watch some non-league football - I think the technical term for this behaviour is 'Hoplessitis idioticus' - I may be wrong. Of course, it goes withouit saying, on such crappy days matches fall quicker than Lionel Blair's underpants in a FA cup winning teams changing room and so plans made were always in a precarious position to say the least. Eventually, after watching numerous twitter feeds and keeping one eye on the NWCFL website a decision was made - it was the original game planned, bring it on I say. Prior to the match I picked up a comrade who was joining me on the touchline and coming to a gig I had organised after, a gig headlined by the reckless and wayward crew known as Victims of Radiation. It seemed a quite worthwhile booking as after being exposed to the days chilling climate a few radioactive thermals would certainly not go a miss. I have heard an overdose of these toxic material can lead to freakish growths and outstanding enlargements of the body - mmm - I may leave me willy hanging out then! So, all sorted, all in position with an extra bod who met us at the ground who was also willing to indulge in some nuclear noise - bring on the players!
The ball rolled, a quick sortie forth was made by the home pack, No 9 (Jack Coop) was in just too late but regained the ball, put in a cross and No 10 (Jordan Burton) was denied and a corner was given. The ball was quickly converted from the angle, some in box confusion struck, No 8 (Samuel Riley) sniffed the sweet fragrance of success and clouted the ball home - 1 -0 to The Blues - what a perfect start! It was now up to the guests to settle in and throw some ammo back - this they did with 2 corners and a half-chance quelled by the sturdy, hard-working rearguard who started to build a good lather to keep the swift passing 1874 gang at bay. A pattern was set, the home team looking to absorb and break, the away team looking to pile on the pressure and force a crack. The guests had a short corner next, No 9 (Scott McGowan) struck from an angle but the flag had already been raised before true success could be had. Onwards the salty men game, 2 lovely flicks from their No 10 (Jake Parker) nearly dissected the defence and the team's No 6 (Mark Jones) was really working the field and popping up here, there and everywhere. Out of the passion a stunning ball from No 3 (Lee Jackson) looped over the Blue backs, McGowan feinted one way, then the other before pulling the trigger and shooting wide - unlucky squire! Within the twitch of an aroused Peacocks pecker McGowan was in again, this time passing to No 11 (Taylor Kennerley) who sent in a sizzler that went just over the bar.
The game advanced, Road's good defensive strategy was hell-bent on protecting this 1 - 0 lead with much gumption poured in as well as some honest limb flying tenacity. A few tasty tackles came, several hold-ups squeezed the flow from the game but when the game did get going a eye-catching passing sequence was a delight to behold and was finalised with Jones sending forth an heat-seeking rasper that needed firmly tipping over. The corner that followed was, what certain professionals term as 'shite' but 1874 still came on strong. Suddenly, with time nearly up, No 8 (Matthew Woolley) put a ball in the Maine Road danger area. A messy muddle ensued with the box laden with desperate players. A crust rose, No 4 (Jack Pritchard) somehow scored the equaliser, it had been a long time coming but it sent the away crowd into the half-time break full of confidence and looking forward to the second 45. The home crowd looked less elated and were certainly wondering how, at such a late stage, all the hard work could be undone by one last gasp effort - not fair at all is it?
The cold was creeping, we three onlookers decided to quaff a bottle of Brandy - by heck it slipped down mighty well. As we nattered time ticked by rather quickly and before we knew it, the game was afoot.
The same pattern was paraded as that which had been set before the break - The home team tight at the back, the away team looking to push. A bit of heat was creeping in both on and off the pitch but all was true and nothing malicious was noted. Despite the Northwich possession play it was Maine Road who had the first chance when No 5 (Louis Edwards) had a robust dig and warmed the visiting mitts of the away No 1. The match now became hectic and I felt as though the next goal may seal matters. From out of the melee, the cool and controlled No 7 (Kazim Waite Jackson) of 1874 struck a stinger. The inside of the upright was struck, the ball flashed across the goal-line, hit the other post and somehow bounced into the bewildered keepers arms. He cuddled the ball like a mother with a new born babe, he looked more than a little grateful the jammy bugger! Another slurp of Brandy was had, Northwich had a corner and the ball was breezed in with good accuracy. No sooner had the spirit warmed the goolies than No 10 (Jake Parker) leathered home a goal, bringing a lead to the Northwich lads which was, in many ways, well earned. Icing was nearly added to the freshly baked cake of celebration when a delicious free-kick came and McGowan was mere inches away from increasing the traveller's lead - a very unfortunate miss.
From here The Road rallied and when a few defenders backed off it was the Coop who was allowed to release. The last man between the sticks was wide awake though and stopped the ball with relative comfort. The Cheshire Chaps used this scare as a catalyst and a golden chance was had for Jake Parket but he completely mis-kicked and fell to the floor wriggling with either embarrassment or a slight niggle. You decide, he did look rather rubicund when he rose to his tootsies. Now the last dregs were upon us, the light faded, that wintry nip looked to satisfy its perverse desires. Luckily my extra thick Delia Smith knickers were keeping me warm. OK, they are canary yellow and have a satin crotch with a picture of Kevin Keelan on but hey, health before fashion should always be the way! Some late pulses came towards the Blues last line, great resistance was displayed and when the host team won a late free-kick one did ponder if all their huffing and puffing to stay in this may pay late dividends, The delivery was straight into the box, some poor defending saw the ball go loose and get thwacked with authority. Time stood still, the mesh was rattled, Jack Coop had levelled this one on the 90th minute - what a way to win a point from a game that looked lost. Now only seconds remained, a late corner for the 74. The ball was played in with pinpoint precision, a nut rose, oh my goodness - shit the bed and don't change the sheets - No 5 (Ryan Mitchell) had grabbed the ultimate winner and along with his comrades, ran to the supporting stalwarts and celebrated a great smash and grab victory. A few more kicks and the referee sealed matters - one team bounced off, the others trudged with heads down, they say all is fair in love and war - sometimes people can compose such utter bollocks. Man of the match for me goes to the No 6 (Mark Jones) of 1874 Northwich - a composed yet commanding player with a presence of his own space and the space of others and an ability to always make the best decision. A good footballer in a good footballing team I reckon - keep at it!
FINAL THOUGHT - And there you have it, and for me the title of the piece sums up the day. For me a fair result would have seen Maine Road take all 3 points simply for the fact that they worked their knackers off, defending as a unit and really did hold at bay a very good side who are on a quite impressive roll. But, having said this a fair result was also had at the end of 90 minutes with the team who had most possession, most ideas and the greater sharpness collecting the win and keeping up the winning formula. A draw would also have been a fair result but I don't think either team would have taken that before kick off so you see, why, in many ways, I have entitled this report as I have. One thing is certain though - Maine Road have turned a dodgy corner and it would take a serious case of misfortune to see them get dragged into an end of season tussle to beat the drop - they now look more organised and well-drilled in their individual duties. 1874 Northwich were my original tip to win this league, they are a good team with many stylish and effective players although I think they have a little too much to do despite having many games in hand. Their time will come but a few good cup runs are on-going, it would be marvellous to see them collect some silverware - now that would be fair...or would it?
The ball rolled, a quick sortie forth was made by the home pack, No 9 (Jack Coop) was in just too late but regained the ball, put in a cross and No 10 (Jordan Burton) was denied and a corner was given. The ball was quickly converted from the angle, some in box confusion struck, No 8 (Samuel Riley) sniffed the sweet fragrance of success and clouted the ball home - 1 -0 to The Blues - what a perfect start! It was now up to the guests to settle in and throw some ammo back - this they did with 2 corners and a half-chance quelled by the sturdy, hard-working rearguard who started to build a good lather to keep the swift passing 1874 gang at bay. A pattern was set, the home team looking to absorb and break, the away team looking to pile on the pressure and force a crack. The guests had a short corner next, No 9 (Scott McGowan) struck from an angle but the flag had already been raised before true success could be had. Onwards the salty men game, 2 lovely flicks from their No 10 (Jake Parker) nearly dissected the defence and the team's No 6 (Mark Jones) was really working the field and popping up here, there and everywhere. Out of the passion a stunning ball from No 3 (Lee Jackson) looped over the Blue backs, McGowan feinted one way, then the other before pulling the trigger and shooting wide - unlucky squire! Within the twitch of an aroused Peacocks pecker McGowan was in again, this time passing to No 11 (Taylor Kennerley) who sent in a sizzler that went just over the bar.
The game advanced, Road's good defensive strategy was hell-bent on protecting this 1 - 0 lead with much gumption poured in as well as some honest limb flying tenacity. A few tasty tackles came, several hold-ups squeezed the flow from the game but when the game did get going a eye-catching passing sequence was a delight to behold and was finalised with Jones sending forth an heat-seeking rasper that needed firmly tipping over. The corner that followed was, what certain professionals term as 'shite' but 1874 still came on strong. Suddenly, with time nearly up, No 8 (Matthew Woolley) put a ball in the Maine Road danger area. A messy muddle ensued with the box laden with desperate players. A crust rose, No 4 (Jack Pritchard) somehow scored the equaliser, it had been a long time coming but it sent the away crowd into the half-time break full of confidence and looking forward to the second 45. The home crowd looked less elated and were certainly wondering how, at such a late stage, all the hard work could be undone by one last gasp effort - not fair at all is it?
The cold was creeping, we three onlookers decided to quaff a bottle of Brandy - by heck it slipped down mighty well. As we nattered time ticked by rather quickly and before we knew it, the game was afoot.
The same pattern was paraded as that which had been set before the break - The home team tight at the back, the away team looking to push. A bit of heat was creeping in both on and off the pitch but all was true and nothing malicious was noted. Despite the Northwich possession play it was Maine Road who had the first chance when No 5 (Louis Edwards) had a robust dig and warmed the visiting mitts of the away No 1. The match now became hectic and I felt as though the next goal may seal matters. From out of the melee, the cool and controlled No 7 (Kazim Waite Jackson) of 1874 struck a stinger. The inside of the upright was struck, the ball flashed across the goal-line, hit the other post and somehow bounced into the bewildered keepers arms. He cuddled the ball like a mother with a new born babe, he looked more than a little grateful the jammy bugger! Another slurp of Brandy was had, Northwich had a corner and the ball was breezed in with good accuracy. No sooner had the spirit warmed the goolies than No 10 (Jake Parker) leathered home a goal, bringing a lead to the Northwich lads which was, in many ways, well earned. Icing was nearly added to the freshly baked cake of celebration when a delicious free-kick came and McGowan was mere inches away from increasing the traveller's lead - a very unfortunate miss.
From here The Road rallied and when a few defenders backed off it was the Coop who was allowed to release. The last man between the sticks was wide awake though and stopped the ball with relative comfort. The Cheshire Chaps used this scare as a catalyst and a golden chance was had for Jake Parket but he completely mis-kicked and fell to the floor wriggling with either embarrassment or a slight niggle. You decide, he did look rather rubicund when he rose to his tootsies. Now the last dregs were upon us, the light faded, that wintry nip looked to satisfy its perverse desires. Luckily my extra thick Delia Smith knickers were keeping me warm. OK, they are canary yellow and have a satin crotch with a picture of Kevin Keelan on but hey, health before fashion should always be the way! Some late pulses came towards the Blues last line, great resistance was displayed and when the host team won a late free-kick one did ponder if all their huffing and puffing to stay in this may pay late dividends, The delivery was straight into the box, some poor defending saw the ball go loose and get thwacked with authority. Time stood still, the mesh was rattled, Jack Coop had levelled this one on the 90th minute - what a way to win a point from a game that looked lost. Now only seconds remained, a late corner for the 74. The ball was played in with pinpoint precision, a nut rose, oh my goodness - shit the bed and don't change the sheets - No 5 (Ryan Mitchell) had grabbed the ultimate winner and along with his comrades, ran to the supporting stalwarts and celebrated a great smash and grab victory. A few more kicks and the referee sealed matters - one team bounced off, the others trudged with heads down, they say all is fair in love and war - sometimes people can compose such utter bollocks. Man of the match for me goes to the No 6 (Mark Jones) of 1874 Northwich - a composed yet commanding player with a presence of his own space and the space of others and an ability to always make the best decision. A good footballer in a good footballing team I reckon - keep at it!
FINAL THOUGHT - And there you have it, and for me the title of the piece sums up the day. For me a fair result would have seen Maine Road take all 3 points simply for the fact that they worked their knackers off, defending as a unit and really did hold at bay a very good side who are on a quite impressive roll. But, having said this a fair result was also had at the end of 90 minutes with the team who had most possession, most ideas and the greater sharpness collecting the win and keeping up the winning formula. A draw would also have been a fair result but I don't think either team would have taken that before kick off so you see, why, in many ways, I have entitled this report as I have. One thing is certain though - Maine Road have turned a dodgy corner and it would take a serious case of misfortune to see them get dragged into an end of season tussle to beat the drop - they now look more organised and well-drilled in their individual duties. 1874 Northwich were my original tip to win this league, they are a good team with many stylish and effective players although I think they have a little too much to do despite having many games in hand. Their time will come but a few good cup runs are on-going, it would be marvellous to see them collect some silverware - now that would be fair...or would it?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)