31st March 2018 - Padiham FC 5 v 4 AFC Liverpool - It had been over 12 months since we tootled up to The Abories Memorial Sports Ground and if truth be told it was a grand day out in hot and sunny conditions with a fair game of football had. Today the Easter weather was bordering on the bilge but we hoped that wouldn't douse our spirits as we took to the road and headed due North. The morn was spent sorting a few insect pictures out, watching a bit of 'Holiday on the Buses' and indulging in a bit of tidying. I had an odd dream the night before whereupon I was a professional footballer doused in cash which I used to help all the non-league clubs I have visited. I am booked into the doctors next week as I am obviously delusional - it is a tragic illness many capitalist kickers are suffering from - bah! So, out and about we headed, offering a bit of support, hopefully spreading the word and putting a bit back via this report. We arrived and sought victuals, I had a right hunger on, a tapeworm perhaps or just plain old greed - tis the 1st of April tomorrow I plan to drop a few pounds, I hope my arse is ready for the action!
The lads in red had the initial upper hand with No 7 (Zach Hardacre) putting in some especial hard work and being involved in a link-up move that led to No 10 (Rhys Hardacre) having a crack off target. The same team came again, a dazzling stint on the wing and a cut in saw 2 home defenders collide and tumble and the ball eventually come across to the feet of No 9 (Anthony Lyons). He stepped up to the question asked and struck low into the bottom corner and gave his highly animated team the most rewarding start. Rhys Hardacre reinforced this goal with some good controlled midfield play that eventually earned a corner kick. When the ball was knocked in a moment of messiness came and from the jumble No 4 (Harry Avis) had a crack that was duly blocked and knocked clear. The globe was soon put back in via a rib-rattling, nob-numbing, titty-tanning shot from No 11 (Elliot Nevitt), thankfully for the hosts it roared over. Eventually The Storks woke up, they strung together several episodes of passing perfection, one of which allowed No 7 (Dominic Craig) to have a punt. The effort was blocked, Liverpool broke soon after, Nevitt again the cause of concern and duly cutting in, shooting and winning an angled hoof. The corner came to nothing, Padiham needed to get back into this and do it mighty soon.
The home Blues forced the next issue, a rapid rally, a cross and No 10 (Daniel Boyle) just failing to poke home. Within the twitch of a Turtle Dove's chuff Padiham came once more with a ball over the top that No 9 (Spencer Jordan) connected with and was denied by a good sprawling save via the alert No 1 (Jack Cookson). A corner was the result, from which another shot was had and deflected over. A repeat scenario followed but this time when the ball came in No 6 (Mark Ayres) used the springs in his legs to rise and nut home without any defensive pressure at all. It was an easy equaliser but it had been coming, the game was back on. Padiham were now having a good session, another ball bypassed the midfield mush, a simple cross ensued and a tap home in the simplest of fashion was the result. No 10 (Daniel Boyle) was the scorer, he looked delighted as did the home supporters - what a turnaround! Padiham came once more, some dazzling link up work saw Craig dribble inwards and dispatch an effort. The one handed save that stopped a third goal was strong and crucial.
A lull was had, attacking opportunities became minimal until some sustained pressure by the home boys saw No 11 (Jason Hart) deliver a good strike and the AFC Liverpool No 2 (Christopher Brady) produce a miraculous on-the-line blockage. Applause rang out for the rearguard resistance and then continued as Hart found the ball at his feet in the box, he had the merest squeak of a chance to score his teams third which he duly took with eagle-eyed precision - marvellous action. The visitors looked to regain a foothold on a slippery game that was escaping their grasp. Nevitt put a free-kick in, Lyons nutted woefully off target and then, seconds later the same two players linked up with the latter having a chance to make amends for his shoddy miss. He belted hard but the shot lacked angularity and was easily palmed over. It was a chance gone and when the corner produced sour FA and Padiham rushed onwards one feared the worst. The attack broke down but a corner was bagged. The ball was floated in, Hart nodded home without mither, AFC Liverpool had obviously not learnt their earlier lesson. With only a few minutes left and 5 goals in the bag it was no surprise to see a 6th go in when Nevitt for the guests ran inwards from the flank, looked several times to shoot before eventually releasing and finding the net with a quality finish. 4 - 2 at the break it was - I was duly running out of ink whilst trying to keep up with this madcap action - I may have to cut a vein.
Half-time, chocolate bunnies we had whilst watching some young un's enjoy a good kick around. It was a manic affair and I think the end result was 3 - 1 - the nippers seemed keen to get off and indulge in their earned snacks - ooh the little tinkers.
Into the second period and Nevitt for AFCL was straight at it, weaving away and contributing to a corner kick won. The ball came and slight confusion was had, Padiham cleared and executed a free-kick that saw another free-header follow. It lacked power so was saved but the lads in red really needed to wake up and watch this threat. 3 corners came for the scousers, the end result was a breakaway for the opponents which luckily dissolved into bugger all. Credit had to be given to the travellers for digging in and making a fist of matters and when they broke and had a two on one situation all heads remained cool as Zach Hardacre crossed and Lyons tapped home like a well-seasoned hoofer. This was a moment to push new life into a frisky match, where would we end up was anyone's guess! Liverpool found the net moments later but celebrations were halted by an infringement, as the home supporters settled their nerves they were soon nibbling their nails like a parson in a peepshow. Nevitt was in, he shot and the ball rolled to the open net. From nowhere a defender appeared and thwarted the equalising strike, good work that man, good ruddy work. Nevitt followed this with another shot close in, it was hammered with anger, it flew over and into the chilly air. The guests were coming on strong, spiced up with the condiment of determination, a brace of attacks could have been so much more if only fortune favoured the keen. The Storks offered a free-kick in return, it had plenty of bend but too much air - like an helium filled banana no less (just ask your local acid-taking greengrocer if you don't believe me).
A patchy period allowed us to regain cerebral balance - it was mightily welcome. We suddenly went into the road home, both units were hungry for more and it was the the hosts who displayed the greatest threat, This threat eventually bore fruit (no not more bent bananas) when a glorious pass was touched off and Boyle had time to shoot. It was blocked but a second bite of the cherry to the striker was given and he slapped home and surely secured the 3 points on offer. The visitors weren't done, a free-kick was won and thumped but, like the re-altered face of Tom Jones, had way too much lift. Soon after though another wave of hope came and when a delicious ball was put in and Lyons bagged his hat-trick before collapsing in a cramped heap it was all hands on deck for the Padiham crew. The final minutes were hectic, a few AFCL free-kicks saw the home box packed tighter than the shorts of Long Dong Silver and a red card for their No 3 (Lee McConchie) add a fruity moment when verbals overspilled. The dregs saw one last attack by the railing team. A ball in, out and back in, Lyons cracked from mere inches out, a gasp went up, the equaliser was surely had - well bugger me sideways with one of those curved fruits - the underside of the bar was rattled and Padiham had survived the greatest scare since Rolf Harris turned up to audition for the lead role in Jack and the Beanstalk at the local Sunday School - scary man, scary. The referee had had enough, he no doubt needed a few tranquilisers and a go in the local oxygen tent - it had been a value for money affair, 9 goals for £6, that's just over 66p a goal, you couldn't score that cheaply in a Taiwan brothel - think yourselves lucky folks. Man of the Match today is perhaps controversial as it goes to a bod from the losing team but I think No 11 (Elliot Nevitt) deserves the accolade due to his unerring knack of causing threat whenever he gained possession of the ball and his constant desire to cut in and cause genuine mischief. He is certainly one to watch and one, with a harder work ethic, can go on to be a much sought after individual - watch this space.
FINAL THOUGHT - Well, we certainly didn't expect this and what a treat it was for we neutrals although for those on the bench it must have been a nerve jangling nightmare. Both teams can take pride in scoring a good fistful of goals but both will be asking questions as to why they let so many in. Padiham are in a good position in the league and will bag a respectable top half finish that is reflective of their efforts. With a bit of tightening up at the rear things could improve next year and I think they are set up in many ways to become a real force to consider. They have a good support network and a set up to admire, I hope we don't leave our return visit as long next time. AFC Liverpool have some good players in their midst, the only concern I had today was at times they seemed to switch off and give away some sloppy goals and sloppy balls in the middle of the park. Their opponents were given a little to much time to dwell on the ball and with a bit more hustle I reckon the result could have gone the other way. They are now in a relegation dogfight, 4 teams go down, 2 are already sunk and for me, there are 4 left in the mix for the remaining places. This is the time to gird your loins, roll up your sleeves and prove your mettle - and remember, it isn't over until Jimmy Tarbuck sings, please do all you can to avoid that infernal racket!
Saturday 31 March 2018
Friday 30 March 2018
PRE-EASTER UPCHUCK
29th March 2018 - 1874 Northwich 1 v 2 Irlam FC - The Easter period is upon us, who will get their eggs of success fertilised and who will have them cracked open for the yolks of misery to run bare. Tis a tricky period at the best of times, with the current backlog of games many a team is under the cosh and in danger of becoming scrambled rather than nicely boiled. We now had 4 days off work, arrived home, had a nibble and set out. The roads were average, people flitting here and there within these clogging arterial networks where fumes spill and precious bugs get choked - I could go off on a rant here, I shall behave. We arrived, purchased chips, took in the atmosphere, had a quick chat with the Irlam Club Secretary and awaited the night's soccerised session. I am ruddy fagged out at the mo, I need a tonic - a local deviant suggested breast milk and cod liver oil blended with a tin of pilchards - I am happy being fagged out! The arses were parked, the legs stretched, the two sides appeared. Ink was spilled on paper, if one took time to decipher I think they would come up with a tale that panned out as thus:-
The opening sortie came via No 7 (Marcus Perry) for The Mitchells whose pace won the battle of the shanks but whose end shot was pulled wide of the opposing upright. At the other end, it was No 7 (Shelton Payne) who cut in and sent in a rasping bender (no, not Larry Grayson with wind) and forced the keeper into making a solid save. From the corner a rough tackle saw a free-kick arise at the corner of the box and when the ball was played it was threat free and easily cleared by the organised guests. A tackle by the Irlam No 4 (Charlie Doyle) brought howls of protest from the home fans but it was a case of a good ball winning effort made nasty by a greasy pitch the player could not use to apply the brakes. 1874 soon recovered composure and the ball, before No 3 (Matthew Russell) tested the visiting No 1 (Lee White) with a belted long ranger that maybe lacked direction but certainly didn't lack bite. The goalkeeper easily blocked and no doubt his hands were warmed for the rest of the night. From the equilibrium of the affair Irlam exploded into action and the 74 crew fell into disarray. Perry fired a shot across the goal, a follow-up shot was missed and then No 11 (Matthew Boland) had a second dig and snatched the first strike of the game. It was a good finish, the 1874 lads now had another mountain to climb.
The home crew pushed hard, No 9 (Kyle Riley) absolutely hammered one and the save that followed was of outstanding quality. The kick from the angle was had, a shot came but the netman easily gathered, the danger was temporarily halted. The home crowd now became vociferous, a horn was blown by what seemed to be a troubled asthmatic. The last time I heard a call like this was when a lusting Hippo was eyeing the possibilities of making a move on the rear end of Bernard Manning - how distressing for the Hippo! The Green Army now moved higher up the park, Irlam looked to soak up and spring back thus giving the game further depth. The hosts now won a free-kick, the delivery was sumptuous, the nod on goal precise and the save concrete. The delivery came, the Blues punted away, 1874 were building the pressure, Irlam were proving that they were no mugs and could certainly hold their own. In fact the next attack came their way when No 15 (Timothy Kinsella) sizzled down the flank, put in a worthwhile cross that No 9 (Haydn Foulds) nutted just off target - aaagghh - that was a chance to add salt in an open 74 wound for sure. The last action of the half soon came, Northwich were sprung into further animation and when a corner was taken, the ball nutted out and then given a full on volley by No 4 (Daniel Thomas) I thought the equaliser had been had. Incredibly the crust of Boland was there to knock the ball off the line, it was a game-saving moment and made sure his team went into the break with the crucial advantage.
Half-time - tea and a cookie based chocolate bar - ruddy lovely. We chilled and watched the rain fall, would Spring ever arrive?
The start to the second half was slow, an 1874 deflected shot brought the first spark and the first reason for the home support to start hollering again. From the corner Irlam broke, the opportunity looked promising but fizzled out and the hosts were allowed to dictate the opening passage of play. Suddenly a killer pass put the Irlam No 3 (Joel Amado) on the back foot and his mistimed tackle brought a kerfuffle, a booking and, most crucially of all, a penalty. The spot kick was taken by No 9 (Kyle Riley), it was a far from convincing effort but somehow managed to squeeze past the keeper. 1 - 1 we were and with all to play for on this wet Thursday night in Cheshire. A quiet period came, each team were trying to work up a lather and go for the jugular. From the calm came a storm, Irlam prowled and then sprang, Kinsella set the ball up for No 14 (Connor Martin) who needed no further invite but struck with force and left the keeper with little chance. It was a pearling hit home and brought renewed life to an already fascinating match-up.
The back stretch now saw urgency invade the home ranks with corners and crosses aplenty coming forth but all being dealt with by a hard-working Irlam unit. Action came both ends, Perry for Irlam was nearly put through but the ball just had too much pace and a 74 cross followed and was nutted toward goal but was yet again cleared. Irlam reacted, they raced away and a hard shot was executed. The one handed save by the home No 1 (Gregory Hall) was outstanding and when Perry raced in and let fly his second block was absolutely brilliant - good work that man, and if the home lads get anything from this game this is the moment that matters. During the final throes the green-clad unit strove to find some magic, they put numerous balls in and a final nut over was disappointing, the referee blew and Irlam had earned a strong 3 points against a side very much on the ropes. The Man of the Match was pondered, the No 2 (Sam Bolton) certainly deserves the nod for exemplifying everything good about his team tonight - determined, tireless and effective when it matters this was a stint to savour, if it continues the lad will be a fine asset to applaud.
FINAL THOUGHT - A week ago 1874 Northwich had big dreams and were looking to have a rose-tinted season, and now they look a rushed and ragged bunch relying on instincts to keep some semblance of form. They are a tremendous side though and I reckon this time next year, if players remain and the fixtures are kind, they will be on top of the pack and pushing for promotion. I have seen them quite often and my confidence is not based on friendly wishful thinking - they have a good set up and are well supported, vital ingredients in making a real honest mark in these ever competitive leagues. Irlam, just 7 days ago were pondering avoiding the relegation zone after a campaign that has seen some deserved ups and some unexplainable downs. They will not go down, that is a surefire fact and I reckon, given tonight's effort and show of balls out passion, they can make their own impression in the league next year and put the wind up many opposing forces. Again another team with a sound supporting cast and some decent fans, they play the game well and have some sincere class in their midst - I for one will be on the touchline next year adding my support, as I do as best as I can for all - it keeps me out of trouble anyway!
The opening sortie came via No 7 (Marcus Perry) for The Mitchells whose pace won the battle of the shanks but whose end shot was pulled wide of the opposing upright. At the other end, it was No 7 (Shelton Payne) who cut in and sent in a rasping bender (no, not Larry Grayson with wind) and forced the keeper into making a solid save. From the corner a rough tackle saw a free-kick arise at the corner of the box and when the ball was played it was threat free and easily cleared by the organised guests. A tackle by the Irlam No 4 (Charlie Doyle) brought howls of protest from the home fans but it was a case of a good ball winning effort made nasty by a greasy pitch the player could not use to apply the brakes. 1874 soon recovered composure and the ball, before No 3 (Matthew Russell) tested the visiting No 1 (Lee White) with a belted long ranger that maybe lacked direction but certainly didn't lack bite. The goalkeeper easily blocked and no doubt his hands were warmed for the rest of the night. From the equilibrium of the affair Irlam exploded into action and the 74 crew fell into disarray. Perry fired a shot across the goal, a follow-up shot was missed and then No 11 (Matthew Boland) had a second dig and snatched the first strike of the game. It was a good finish, the 1874 lads now had another mountain to climb.
The home crew pushed hard, No 9 (Kyle Riley) absolutely hammered one and the save that followed was of outstanding quality. The kick from the angle was had, a shot came but the netman easily gathered, the danger was temporarily halted. The home crowd now became vociferous, a horn was blown by what seemed to be a troubled asthmatic. The last time I heard a call like this was when a lusting Hippo was eyeing the possibilities of making a move on the rear end of Bernard Manning - how distressing for the Hippo! The Green Army now moved higher up the park, Irlam looked to soak up and spring back thus giving the game further depth. The hosts now won a free-kick, the delivery was sumptuous, the nod on goal precise and the save concrete. The delivery came, the Blues punted away, 1874 were building the pressure, Irlam were proving that they were no mugs and could certainly hold their own. In fact the next attack came their way when No 15 (Timothy Kinsella) sizzled down the flank, put in a worthwhile cross that No 9 (Haydn Foulds) nutted just off target - aaagghh - that was a chance to add salt in an open 74 wound for sure. The last action of the half soon came, Northwich were sprung into further animation and when a corner was taken, the ball nutted out and then given a full on volley by No 4 (Daniel Thomas) I thought the equaliser had been had. Incredibly the crust of Boland was there to knock the ball off the line, it was a game-saving moment and made sure his team went into the break with the crucial advantage.
Half-time - tea and a cookie based chocolate bar - ruddy lovely. We chilled and watched the rain fall, would Spring ever arrive?
The start to the second half was slow, an 1874 deflected shot brought the first spark and the first reason for the home support to start hollering again. From the corner Irlam broke, the opportunity looked promising but fizzled out and the hosts were allowed to dictate the opening passage of play. Suddenly a killer pass put the Irlam No 3 (Joel Amado) on the back foot and his mistimed tackle brought a kerfuffle, a booking and, most crucially of all, a penalty. The spot kick was taken by No 9 (Kyle Riley), it was a far from convincing effort but somehow managed to squeeze past the keeper. 1 - 1 we were and with all to play for on this wet Thursday night in Cheshire. A quiet period came, each team were trying to work up a lather and go for the jugular. From the calm came a storm, Irlam prowled and then sprang, Kinsella set the ball up for No 14 (Connor Martin) who needed no further invite but struck with force and left the keeper with little chance. It was a pearling hit home and brought renewed life to an already fascinating match-up.
The back stretch now saw urgency invade the home ranks with corners and crosses aplenty coming forth but all being dealt with by a hard-working Irlam unit. Action came both ends, Perry for Irlam was nearly put through but the ball just had too much pace and a 74 cross followed and was nutted toward goal but was yet again cleared. Irlam reacted, they raced away and a hard shot was executed. The one handed save by the home No 1 (Gregory Hall) was outstanding and when Perry raced in and let fly his second block was absolutely brilliant - good work that man, and if the home lads get anything from this game this is the moment that matters. During the final throes the green-clad unit strove to find some magic, they put numerous balls in and a final nut over was disappointing, the referee blew and Irlam had earned a strong 3 points against a side very much on the ropes. The Man of the Match was pondered, the No 2 (Sam Bolton) certainly deserves the nod for exemplifying everything good about his team tonight - determined, tireless and effective when it matters this was a stint to savour, if it continues the lad will be a fine asset to applaud.
FINAL THOUGHT - A week ago 1874 Northwich had big dreams and were looking to have a rose-tinted season, and now they look a rushed and ragged bunch relying on instincts to keep some semblance of form. They are a tremendous side though and I reckon this time next year, if players remain and the fixtures are kind, they will be on top of the pack and pushing for promotion. I have seen them quite often and my confidence is not based on friendly wishful thinking - they have a good set up and are well supported, vital ingredients in making a real honest mark in these ever competitive leagues. Irlam, just 7 days ago were pondering avoiding the relegation zone after a campaign that has seen some deserved ups and some unexplainable downs. They will not go down, that is a surefire fact and I reckon, given tonight's effort and show of balls out passion, they can make their own impression in the league next year and put the wind up many opposing forces. Again another team with a sound supporting cast and some decent fans, they play the game well and have some sincere class in their midst - I for one will be on the touchline next year adding my support, as I do as best as I can for all - it keeps me out of trouble anyway!
Thursday 29 March 2018
PASS, PLAY, PILFER
27th March 2018 - Chadderton 1 v 2 Eccleshall - Today I had been leading a walk for a bunch of carers in the dreary weather - we did just fine though and saw a few decent things along the way. Once home I did the previous night's football report, had some scram and watched some idle TV. 'On The Buses' is an eternal favourite though and Blakey is a one helluva amusing character. I once had a nightmare about this TV show whereupon I found myself involved in a menage a trois with Olive and Jack Harper. It was a skin-crawling terror that I eventually woke up from only to find that I had been sleep walking again and ended up in the sack with a blacked up William Hartnell and a rubber Dalek - we channel hopping anxiety sufferers have a shit-life at times. Of course, this digression has nothing to do with the night's football and having readjusted my mental gears and got back on the tracks of sanity I welcome you back to Planet Football in the sub-galaxy Nonus-Leagueoid. We travelled forth, landed in the competing crater and awaited to two squadrons to do battle. STP Stu joined us and we nattered away whilst swilling cha' - eternal good company this chap and a keen stalwart of things real and non-league. Both teams, like a pair of Lovebirds, sat side by side in the table but who would be the ones to suck seed, and who would be the ones to succeed! My pecker of observation was out, I got my claws into the action and amidst the touchline squawkers I happened to witness the following action (God bless my pocketful of tangents).
The start we were blessed with was enthused and fervid with Chadderton testing their opponents mettle with a few early balls in. Eccleshall remained predominantly unflustered and set about playing a passing game that was to make the home side work for every scrap during every second of the game. An Ecky surge came, No 4 (Jake Standbridge) nipped in and looked to cause mayhem but the home No 3 (Michael Woolfe) had different ideas and put in a quite substantial and rescuing tackle. Chadderton duly broke from here, No 9 (Aaron Scholes) was slotted through and only had the keeper to beat. The strike that followed was decent enough, alas the post was rattled and quivered like an upright member in a Swedish sauna - phew what a scorcher! The guest brigade were not to be distressed and played their patient game with admirable focus. A head clash knocked the flow out of the early action but both bods soon recovered and matters recommenced with the same gusto. Chadderton advanced once more, No 7 (Jordan Butterworth) to Scholes who struck first time. The shot had no venom and no angle, the keeper collected without breaking sweat. Eccleshall came back with a break that saw No 6 (Reece Lyndon) of Chadderton round his own keeper and duly clear - it could have been a moment of high embarrassment if a less cool head had been involved. The perpetual motion of the game continued with the visitors having two quick sorties, one just lacking the merest killer touch, the other resulting in a fair but hopeful handball claim. Chadderton were holding their own though and had a penalty shout and two mediocre shots in the manic mix but we stayed put at 0 - 0 and wondered where the first breakthrough would come from!
The hands of the clock progressed, it was time for a strike methinks. Eccleshall came on strong, a delicious ball was played to their No 11 (Louis Downs) who looked destined to ripple the mesh. He chose his spot, he dug in with determination, he dragged the ball...wide! I was disappointed, perhaps I was not alone! At the other end Chadderton put a ball across the park, knocked it back to their No 8 (Jack Ward) who side footed home with steady poise and exactitude - it was against the flow but well taken nonetheless. Some tasty tackles now flew in, both teams were primarily playing 'on the deck' football and in truth, it was making for a very appealing spectacle. The hosts now put several balls into the danger zone, Eccleshall dealt with each but No 5 (Devon Matthews) and No 2 (Ryan Shenton) for Chadderton were pushing further up the park and putting in some decent work. The guests attempted to break several times, eventually they got some space and a quite precise cross saw No 11 (Louis Downs) bag the equaliser and make for a few frisky final minutes. Eccleshall finished the half better, another cross found the crust of No 9 (Thomas Wakefield) who put over but Chadderton found it within themselves to have one last crack with a corner and header close in stopped from crossing the line by a tremendous reaction save. The ball was cleared, we went into the break all square.
A pie and tea for half-time, I was feeling queasy, this ruddy virus is lingering around longer than Max Wall in an Orthopedic Centre (ooh me knobbly knees). The pie was a stunner, the tea very much needed and myself and Stu tootled back to my missus who was also feeling a trifle off side and refused any refreshments. What a pair hey?
Both units came back out, they were still indulging in their neat brand of football and I was very enthused. Matthews of Chaddy was exhibiting some quality work along the wing, Downs for Ecky was always a viable option and super keen, these were small examples on a pitch of decent doofers striving to contribute to a winning night's work. Chadderton began to build, Scholes was running well, a ball to No 8 (Jack Ward) was had and quickly followed by a firm hoofing. The ball bounced just before the keeper went to gather, it slipped his grasp and bounced against the post, now that was a close shave if ever I saw one. The home team's No 11 (Jack O'Leary) came next, he left the battling midfield pack, charged with purpose and thumped one just over the bar - the warnings were getting too frequent! Eccleshall replied with a free-kick, in it came and the mittman fumbled but thankfully recovered and spared himself a rubicund countenance. The game had a quiet period were action was all in the centre of the park with no quarter given. The hosts saw a free-kick fall into their opponents box, a mass of legs swung this way and that, not one made any sort of contact - how the ruddy heck did that happen?
We travelled deeper into the game, a loose ball from a thunderous tackle saw the Chaddy No 10 (Jack Turnbull) shoot on the turn. He didn't burst the net and should have produced a much better effort. Eccleshall were not on the ropes as yet and when No 7 (Daniel Needham) flashed forth all he had to do was add some elevation to the ball and dink it over the advancing keeper. The effort that came was too low and the gloved guardian blocked with relative ease. The oomph and heave ho by both teams was still considerably high, the brief glimpses of light at the end of the attacking tunnels were had several times but who would be the one to grab the ultimate glow? A tussling contest carried us into the dregs, Eccleshall threw caution to the wind, Needham pounced on a goalkeeping blip, he took his time to shoot and lost the chance, the ball pinged out another shot came via George Burslem and the bottom corner was found. Almost the final kick of the ball and victory had been grabbed, the Eccleshall lads whooped with joy and celebrated like they had won a night on the tiles with Erroll Flynn. The referee stopped the action after a couple more kicks, this was a last minute steal, the Chadderton lads looked gutted but they should take pride in their style and commitment and as for Man of the Match, I think their No 6 (Reece Lyndon) deserves the nod as he played a true Captain's role, steadied the ship when need be, offered options up front and was strong in the air - a role played out with authority!
FINAL THOUGHT - Despite feeling a trifle icky I thought this was a splendid match played in a cultured way with both teams refusing to clobber and clout their way to a crude victory. All concerned should be slapped on the back for their efforts and Chadderton, as a ground, is always a pleasure. For me, playing football of this kind is deserved of greater things, it is just a question of being able to add a few crudities within the quality that will make the difference. Like Old MacDonald getting his cowsheds ready for an open day, all the polish and fancy work need to be done whilst getting covered in a bit of shit along the way - tis the only way to win the biggest rosette of all and possibly the blessings of non-other than a Jethro Tull look-alike - now that is a honor! So, off we pootled, happy with a game at ground level being played the correct way and using it as a nudge to make sure we get back down Eccleshall way mighty soon. Tis all travelling, chewing the cud with like-minded folk and supporting the cause - onwards!
The start we were blessed with was enthused and fervid with Chadderton testing their opponents mettle with a few early balls in. Eccleshall remained predominantly unflustered and set about playing a passing game that was to make the home side work for every scrap during every second of the game. An Ecky surge came, No 4 (Jake Standbridge) nipped in and looked to cause mayhem but the home No 3 (Michael Woolfe) had different ideas and put in a quite substantial and rescuing tackle. Chadderton duly broke from here, No 9 (Aaron Scholes) was slotted through and only had the keeper to beat. The strike that followed was decent enough, alas the post was rattled and quivered like an upright member in a Swedish sauna - phew what a scorcher! The guest brigade were not to be distressed and played their patient game with admirable focus. A head clash knocked the flow out of the early action but both bods soon recovered and matters recommenced with the same gusto. Chadderton advanced once more, No 7 (Jordan Butterworth) to Scholes who struck first time. The shot had no venom and no angle, the keeper collected without breaking sweat. Eccleshall came back with a break that saw No 6 (Reece Lyndon) of Chadderton round his own keeper and duly clear - it could have been a moment of high embarrassment if a less cool head had been involved. The perpetual motion of the game continued with the visitors having two quick sorties, one just lacking the merest killer touch, the other resulting in a fair but hopeful handball claim. Chadderton were holding their own though and had a penalty shout and two mediocre shots in the manic mix but we stayed put at 0 - 0 and wondered where the first breakthrough would come from!
The hands of the clock progressed, it was time for a strike methinks. Eccleshall came on strong, a delicious ball was played to their No 11 (Louis Downs) who looked destined to ripple the mesh. He chose his spot, he dug in with determination, he dragged the ball...wide! I was disappointed, perhaps I was not alone! At the other end Chadderton put a ball across the park, knocked it back to their No 8 (Jack Ward) who side footed home with steady poise and exactitude - it was against the flow but well taken nonetheless. Some tasty tackles now flew in, both teams were primarily playing 'on the deck' football and in truth, it was making for a very appealing spectacle. The hosts now put several balls into the danger zone, Eccleshall dealt with each but No 5 (Devon Matthews) and No 2 (Ryan Shenton) for Chadderton were pushing further up the park and putting in some decent work. The guests attempted to break several times, eventually they got some space and a quite precise cross saw No 11 (Louis Downs) bag the equaliser and make for a few frisky final minutes. Eccleshall finished the half better, another cross found the crust of No 9 (Thomas Wakefield) who put over but Chadderton found it within themselves to have one last crack with a corner and header close in stopped from crossing the line by a tremendous reaction save. The ball was cleared, we went into the break all square.
A pie and tea for half-time, I was feeling queasy, this ruddy virus is lingering around longer than Max Wall in an Orthopedic Centre (ooh me knobbly knees). The pie was a stunner, the tea very much needed and myself and Stu tootled back to my missus who was also feeling a trifle off side and refused any refreshments. What a pair hey?
Both units came back out, they were still indulging in their neat brand of football and I was very enthused. Matthews of Chaddy was exhibiting some quality work along the wing, Downs for Ecky was always a viable option and super keen, these were small examples on a pitch of decent doofers striving to contribute to a winning night's work. Chadderton began to build, Scholes was running well, a ball to No 8 (Jack Ward) was had and quickly followed by a firm hoofing. The ball bounced just before the keeper went to gather, it slipped his grasp and bounced against the post, now that was a close shave if ever I saw one. The home team's No 11 (Jack O'Leary) came next, he left the battling midfield pack, charged with purpose and thumped one just over the bar - the warnings were getting too frequent! Eccleshall replied with a free-kick, in it came and the mittman fumbled but thankfully recovered and spared himself a rubicund countenance. The game had a quiet period were action was all in the centre of the park with no quarter given. The hosts saw a free-kick fall into their opponents box, a mass of legs swung this way and that, not one made any sort of contact - how the ruddy heck did that happen?
We travelled deeper into the game, a loose ball from a thunderous tackle saw the Chaddy No 10 (Jack Turnbull) shoot on the turn. He didn't burst the net and should have produced a much better effort. Eccleshall were not on the ropes as yet and when No 7 (Daniel Needham) flashed forth all he had to do was add some elevation to the ball and dink it over the advancing keeper. The effort that came was too low and the gloved guardian blocked with relative ease. The oomph and heave ho by both teams was still considerably high, the brief glimpses of light at the end of the attacking tunnels were had several times but who would be the one to grab the ultimate glow? A tussling contest carried us into the dregs, Eccleshall threw caution to the wind, Needham pounced on a goalkeeping blip, he took his time to shoot and lost the chance, the ball pinged out another shot came via George Burslem and the bottom corner was found. Almost the final kick of the ball and victory had been grabbed, the Eccleshall lads whooped with joy and celebrated like they had won a night on the tiles with Erroll Flynn. The referee stopped the action after a couple more kicks, this was a last minute steal, the Chadderton lads looked gutted but they should take pride in their style and commitment and as for Man of the Match, I think their No 6 (Reece Lyndon) deserves the nod as he played a true Captain's role, steadied the ship when need be, offered options up front and was strong in the air - a role played out with authority!
FINAL THOUGHT - Despite feeling a trifle icky I thought this was a splendid match played in a cultured way with both teams refusing to clobber and clout their way to a crude victory. All concerned should be slapped on the back for their efforts and Chadderton, as a ground, is always a pleasure. For me, playing football of this kind is deserved of greater things, it is just a question of being able to add a few crudities within the quality that will make the difference. Like Old MacDonald getting his cowsheds ready for an open day, all the polish and fancy work need to be done whilst getting covered in a bit of shit along the way - tis the only way to win the biggest rosette of all and possibly the blessings of non-other than a Jethro Tull look-alike - now that is a honor! So, off we pootled, happy with a game at ground level being played the correct way and using it as a nudge to make sure we get back down Eccleshall way mighty soon. Tis all travelling, chewing the cud with like-minded folk and supporting the cause - onwards!
Tuesday 27 March 2018
MONDAY MACRON MANIA
26th March 2018 - Stockport Town 0 v 4 Irlam FC - A busy weekend just done, a day out today around West Yorkshire (darn those road systems) and a mooch around 3 nature reserves. One a shitheap ruined by man's selfish litter-bugging and miniature minded ways, another a tucked away gem and the third a decent place that still needs a bit of work. On the way home, whilst my good lady drove, I read 'The Garden of a Naturalist' by Bernard Gooch, a signed 1959 copy and a marvellous insight into the natural world not so long ago. I kept nodding off due to the sunny rays and being fagged out but managed to finish the chapter I was on before arriving on the doorstep. Once in, tea, website sightings updated and a laze about and then out for this latest Macron Cup Match. As ye know, I am a keen non-league football fan but man, I just hoped there wasn't extra time tonight! I was so tired today I don't think even Roger Bannister was as knackered after running that sub-minute mile and then going on the razzle with Chris Chataway before having a love-in at one of Nicholas Parsons Nob-o-Rama Hotels - what a night that was I hear. So, the carcass was prised off the sofa, my kind (and also knackered out) lass dropped me off and I took up the assessing position and was joined by a few of the Irlam faithful and passionate doofers - not a bad bunch at all!
Irlam came out quickest, No 10 (Matthew Boland) had a choice crack wide, not to be confused with the lover of Wayne Sleep who has a choice wide crack (how awful). The Lions reacted with a free-kick that was played toward the target man, No 9 (Ben Halfacre). He made contact, a clearance was had but it was a move to be wary of for the travelling clan! Stockport advanced once more after Irlam had a half effort quelled. No 8 (Matthew Todd) finalised matters with a keen punt but the ball lacked toxicity and direction, the mittman gathered with ease. At this stage it was the hosts who just brandished the keener blades with No 7 (Jesurun Uchegbulam) not just a tidy Scrabble score but a genuine wriggling eel in the underpants of the Irlam rear. The guests denied and defied, they worked the flank with No 7 (Marcus Perry) breaking free of his marker, crossing and allowing No 9 (Haydn Foulds) to leather one over. Instantly the same move was repeated, another flash down the wing, a ball in and this time it was Boland who connected. He turned, put boot to ball and found the bottom corner with precise skill - it was a fine goal and put the flame to the touchpaper we had all been anticipating.
The Town now became more urgent, No 4 (Tom Bane) supplied a ball to Halfacre who found the net only to look up and see the offside flag waving. Irlam hindered any thoughts of a kick-back from their opponents by passing well and sticking to their well-prepared plans. Another Lion move came nonetheless, No 2 (Macauley Harewood), Uchegbulam and Halfacre major components in a swift energetic move that saw the latter player nut over the bar. Harewood came again after Irlam had taken too much time in midfield. He pilfered, probed, put the globe in the zone of peril, somehow Irlam hoofed clear. Another ball in seconds later caused more consternation, the Silver Street residents looked ruffled. No 3 (Izzy Miranda) for The Town had a crack but wellied high, Uchegbulam waved his magic wand and beat three players whilst gliding with purpose but the spell cast was subdued and as half-time was called one felt that Irlam were slightly fortuitous to have the one goal lead.
During the break I emptied the bladder, swilled tea and re-took my position. I was in the glow of the floodlights ruminating on the first 45 when a shadow fell across my countenance and I felt a chill run down my spine. 'Do you want a cake young man' came the smooth and serenading words. I looked up and beheld the Stockport Town Assistant Secretary (number available on request) clad in summer shorts, wearing a persuasive smile and offering me a Lemon French Fancy! I weighed up the situation and wondered if certain parts of my anatomy were in danger and would end up losing some of their elasticity. I am a simple man of simple tastes, I have only heard hint of these sub-soccer shenanigans and they sounded ghastly - but hey, a French Fancy holds some sway with me and I boldly took the cake and the risk that went with it. The cake tasted fine, I just hope the Premier Inn is fully booked - tis a wicked world don't ya know!
And to half two. The start was level, Stockport were probing and trying to build some pressure, Irlam were sitting a little too deeply. It was end to end stuff. Halfacre nearly turned and buried one but was crowded out and up the other end Perry was almost in the clear but was just denied a glorious chance. A few injuries came, the flow was held up until Uchegbulma put a sweet ball in to Halfacre who was threat was duly subdued. Next, and the opposing No 5's had fair chances with Irlam's (Conor Braithwaite) showing great determination that led to a chance that needed a quality save and at the other side of the park (Dahrius Waldron) put in a quite spellbinding run that saw another peach of a save performed. Perry of Irlam caused the next action when he inadvertently lost the ball and allowed No 10 (Reece Skelton) to zoom forth, try his luck and get an unfortunate deflection wide. The corner came to sweet FA and only led to a smart Irlam break that was crushed by another offside decision.
This was a frantic match, the guests had held on and now, from a midfield mire, let Perry race through on an awaiting ball. The player collected, connected and found the inside of the far post with measured aplomb - well taken that man and surely a moment that knocked a hefty bit of stuffing out of the Stockport souls. The Lions tried to claw back in, a defensive mix-up however landed them in disarray and Foulds of The Mitchells needed no second offering and slotted home to bring up a 0 - 3 lead. He peeled away, tumbled like a tot on a Smartie high, it was good to see a player get so worked up. His enthusiasm wasn't short-lived either and 5 minutes later, only 1 minute from the end he found himself though again and, with the outside of his boot, put in a quite exquisite finish. It was a final insult for the hosts, the gravy on the chips for the visitors and after a short spell of extra time we were done. Thanks and farewells given I mulled over the Man of the Match and went for No 9 (Matthew Boland) who held the ball up well, remained strong but fair throughout, was always a good option and who, of course, bagged two well deserve goals - one can't complain about that!
FINAL THOUGHT - Prior to this match I would have said things would have been a lot closer than the scoreline suggests and, in brutal truth, they were. The difference was that Irlam played as a pack and put in a consistent stint and took their chances when they mattered. Stockport Town tonight were a bit sketchy in part and in between some fine passages of play just went off the boil now and again - it happens. The prize for the victors is bittersweet as a semi-final place, and possibly a final, means two more matches in a fixture list that is quite overloaded. Irlam are not clear of the drop-zone either so the question is - do you chase the cup or make sure you secure your league position? The answer ain't easy and a bit of Ali Bongo juggling may be called for. Stockport Town are safe in their Division 1 position and will no doubt be looking to build further on their obvious promise and hold on to some of their pace-riddled and game changing players. They will finish in the top half and next term I reckon will be pushing for honors and I, hopefully, will be witnessing what transpires!
Irlam came out quickest, No 10 (Matthew Boland) had a choice crack wide, not to be confused with the lover of Wayne Sleep who has a choice wide crack (how awful). The Lions reacted with a free-kick that was played toward the target man, No 9 (Ben Halfacre). He made contact, a clearance was had but it was a move to be wary of for the travelling clan! Stockport advanced once more after Irlam had a half effort quelled. No 8 (Matthew Todd) finalised matters with a keen punt but the ball lacked toxicity and direction, the mittman gathered with ease. At this stage it was the hosts who just brandished the keener blades with No 7 (Jesurun Uchegbulam) not just a tidy Scrabble score but a genuine wriggling eel in the underpants of the Irlam rear. The guests denied and defied, they worked the flank with No 7 (Marcus Perry) breaking free of his marker, crossing and allowing No 9 (Haydn Foulds) to leather one over. Instantly the same move was repeated, another flash down the wing, a ball in and this time it was Boland who connected. He turned, put boot to ball and found the bottom corner with precise skill - it was a fine goal and put the flame to the touchpaper we had all been anticipating.
The Town now became more urgent, No 4 (Tom Bane) supplied a ball to Halfacre who found the net only to look up and see the offside flag waving. Irlam hindered any thoughts of a kick-back from their opponents by passing well and sticking to their well-prepared plans. Another Lion move came nonetheless, No 2 (Macauley Harewood), Uchegbulam and Halfacre major components in a swift energetic move that saw the latter player nut over the bar. Harewood came again after Irlam had taken too much time in midfield. He pilfered, probed, put the globe in the zone of peril, somehow Irlam hoofed clear. Another ball in seconds later caused more consternation, the Silver Street residents looked ruffled. No 3 (Izzy Miranda) for The Town had a crack but wellied high, Uchegbulam waved his magic wand and beat three players whilst gliding with purpose but the spell cast was subdued and as half-time was called one felt that Irlam were slightly fortuitous to have the one goal lead.
During the break I emptied the bladder, swilled tea and re-took my position. I was in the glow of the floodlights ruminating on the first 45 when a shadow fell across my countenance and I felt a chill run down my spine. 'Do you want a cake young man' came the smooth and serenading words. I looked up and beheld the Stockport Town Assistant Secretary (number available on request) clad in summer shorts, wearing a persuasive smile and offering me a Lemon French Fancy! I weighed up the situation and wondered if certain parts of my anatomy were in danger and would end up losing some of their elasticity. I am a simple man of simple tastes, I have only heard hint of these sub-soccer shenanigans and they sounded ghastly - but hey, a French Fancy holds some sway with me and I boldly took the cake and the risk that went with it. The cake tasted fine, I just hope the Premier Inn is fully booked - tis a wicked world don't ya know!
And to half two. The start was level, Stockport were probing and trying to build some pressure, Irlam were sitting a little too deeply. It was end to end stuff. Halfacre nearly turned and buried one but was crowded out and up the other end Perry was almost in the clear but was just denied a glorious chance. A few injuries came, the flow was held up until Uchegbulma put a sweet ball in to Halfacre who was threat was duly subdued. Next, and the opposing No 5's had fair chances with Irlam's (Conor Braithwaite) showing great determination that led to a chance that needed a quality save and at the other side of the park (Dahrius Waldron) put in a quite spellbinding run that saw another peach of a save performed. Perry of Irlam caused the next action when he inadvertently lost the ball and allowed No 10 (Reece Skelton) to zoom forth, try his luck and get an unfortunate deflection wide. The corner came to sweet FA and only led to a smart Irlam break that was crushed by another offside decision.
This was a frantic match, the guests had held on and now, from a midfield mire, let Perry race through on an awaiting ball. The player collected, connected and found the inside of the far post with measured aplomb - well taken that man and surely a moment that knocked a hefty bit of stuffing out of the Stockport souls. The Lions tried to claw back in, a defensive mix-up however landed them in disarray and Foulds of The Mitchells needed no second offering and slotted home to bring up a 0 - 3 lead. He peeled away, tumbled like a tot on a Smartie high, it was good to see a player get so worked up. His enthusiasm wasn't short-lived either and 5 minutes later, only 1 minute from the end he found himself though again and, with the outside of his boot, put in a quite exquisite finish. It was a final insult for the hosts, the gravy on the chips for the visitors and after a short spell of extra time we were done. Thanks and farewells given I mulled over the Man of the Match and went for No 9 (Matthew Boland) who held the ball up well, remained strong but fair throughout, was always a good option and who, of course, bagged two well deserve goals - one can't complain about that!
FINAL THOUGHT - Prior to this match I would have said things would have been a lot closer than the scoreline suggests and, in brutal truth, they were. The difference was that Irlam played as a pack and put in a consistent stint and took their chances when they mattered. Stockport Town tonight were a bit sketchy in part and in between some fine passages of play just went off the boil now and again - it happens. The prize for the victors is bittersweet as a semi-final place, and possibly a final, means two more matches in a fixture list that is quite overloaded. Irlam are not clear of the drop-zone either so the question is - do you chase the cup or make sure you secure your league position? The answer ain't easy and a bit of Ali Bongo juggling may be called for. Stockport Town are safe in their Division 1 position and will no doubt be looking to build further on their obvious promise and hold on to some of their pace-riddled and game changing players. They will finish in the top half and next term I reckon will be pushing for honors and I, hopefully, will be witnessing what transpires!
Saturday 24 March 2018
A GAP NOT BRIDGED
24th March 2018 - Whaley Bridge AFC 6 v 1 Wythenshawe Town - Father Time has got the trots and as he dashes around we mere mortals get dragged along and lost in the flying shittery. The clock rotates with increasing rapidity, a focus becomes a blur and as more is taken on, the heap rises and one feels lost in a whirlpool of passion, enthusiasm and I suppose, waywardness. The key though is to do and put back more than one takes and avoid the awful flow that dictates the rhythm, it ain't easy. So up, out to the doctors to put a prescription in (gotta keep the head level tha' knows, it ain't nowt to be ashamed of) and back home to sort some outstanding reports, a few CD reviews and one or two chores. Me and my good lady chomped dinner (mmm chicken, veggie stuff for my lass) sorted ourselves out (well attempted to) and out we went to a new ground. The weather was kind (must be the seasonal hormones) we arrived and had a mooch around a small portion of Todbrook Reservoir - 22 birds species, a nice flock of Siskin the highlight. We got back to the ground, took all in before us, including tea and nibbles and prepared for some Cheshire League action. Forget the affected, plastic and addle-headed nouveau riche who have as much insight into matters as a sinking bat in a sewer, instead get out and support something real, keep it at 'level' approachable and do your bit - well that's the idea. We chitted, chatted, the verbal ball was batted...and then a game of football was had!
The first few rotations of the globe occurred and the guests were straight through with No 10 (Gavin Salmon) shrugging off an attempted tackle and letting one fly. The home No 1 (James Tattersall) was wide awake and saved with solid efficiency - what a good start! The Wythenshawe pressure built but the boys from The Bridge were resolute and came back and earned a free-kick. The ball was put forth, chaos reined, a tussle and a make-up was had, the game continued at a fair old gallop. A foul next saw the ball fly off at an angle and thwack an elderly on-looker full in the mush. His glasses went flying, his eye and nose bled, his head was no doubt spinning quicker than the accursed lass in The Exorcist. The defender for Whaley Bridge No 3 (Jamie Kay) was over to apologise and then a physio came and gave grand attention - a nice touch. The fella took things in good heart was soon back with his peepers on the action...talking of which...! The home chaps now built a fine momentum, akin to Billy Casper fleeing the local shopkeeper after helping himself to a packet of No 6 fags. The visiting defence was getting stretched and out of the threat No 7 (Bill Sutton) struck one and brought up the opening goal. It was well taken but instead of celebrating the aforementioned Kay came once more to check on the injured spectator (see, things ain't all bad). Whaley Bridge came on again, a free-kick was had, delivered and knocked down for Sutton to finish after a tidy twist of the hips. It was a sweet yet simple goal, the rear guard of Wythenshawe looked far from happy.
From here the travelling team tried to kick back and advanced with pumping shanks. As they entered the final zone a return long ball grazed the noggin of No 10 (George Burgess) who touched on to the the ever-hungry No 11 (Daniel Gilbride). The flank flasher ran and cross, red alert came for the opposition, their tidy No 3 (Paulo Incaque) timed his tackle well and did just enough to stem the tide. Next and a corner for The Bridge was had due to the sheer determination of their No 9 (Jack Kelly), solid squire, solid. The angled kick came, found the other side of the pitch and was put back in. No 6 (Jack Gregory) put his crust on the ball from only a few feet out, the block via the mittman was as sweet as a Blackbird's chuff (so I believe). Another corner came, Wythenshawe survived. A mistimed tackle followed, idiot verbals erupted, from the ensuing bonus ball No 11 (Ed Walker) of the Wythy Warriors exhibited some good feet and released to an escaping colleague. Alas glory was not to follow as the defensive shepherding was choice and the ball allowed to trickle out for a goal kick. Just as one thought Wythenshawe were clawing their way back out of the doghouse Whaley Bridge tightened the lead with another free-punt, a nod back and a third goal for Sutton. It was taken well, but it was all too easy and laid on a plate - this was looking like a rout. Soon after a kick from the WB mittman was nutted out and immediately volleyed home via the peg of Gregory. It was a beauty an ideal way to bring up the fourth. Not satisfied a ball over the top saw Sutton bring the ball down and test the visiting No 1 (Ben Daniels). The save that came was of lofty calibre, there is some justice after all. The half came to an end with the visitors trying to force matters but always being crowded out - it was just one of those days!
Half-time was spent swilling the obligatory tea, We put a tenner in the donation box and re-took our positions.
The second half started in frisky fashion, it brought back memories of the opening round of the World Butter Boxing Fight between Bella Emberg and Doris Stokes, now that was a rollicking affair with Stokes winning by 2 falls and a possession. A hard push by the hosts saw Gilbride earn a corner and duly knock the ball in. The easiest header imaginable was taken by No 10 (George Burgess) and the 5 goal mark was attained. Soon after Gilbride put another gratis globe forward and saw Sutton grab another - it was as simple as it sounds, 6 - 0, what the ruddy Hell is happening? Wythenshawe now scrounged for any morsels, they were being outworked and out-thought but note need be made of Incaque at the rear who, despite being in a squad who were on a hiding, was still working away and catching the eye with some very efficient defending. It was all to little avail though as Sutton had two more cracks, both off target but showing threat still loomed large. The game went through a quiet spell, a Wythenshawe corner was wasted as one of their tribe went down easier than a skeleton in a breeze, some extra effort was needed for sure! The guest No 7 (Ash Leather) was running his gonads off, he eventually got one ball in but the header that came from No 12 (Jake Gregory) flew just wide. Up the other end and a substitute tiptoed through on the blindside and shot low but was thwarted by a quality save. The keeper got clobbered soon after, he was having a rough day but he did well to hang in and was soon back on his feet facing several more onslaughts. Wythenshawe strained for a consolation, Incaque played a ball through on which Walker advanced. The home keeper read the situation and collected with calmness. A swift attack by Wythy saw No 15 (James Taylor) let fly but the ball hit a colleague on the line and made a mockery of the effort. With only seconds remaining Salmon laid the ball off to Leather who slapped home and got one goal back just in time before proceedings were halted. He deserved that due to his constant dashing and never-say-die attitude, 6 - 1 it was, now who would have predicted that! There were some good stints shown today, primarily from the Whaley Bridge pack and my choice for man of the Match goes to No 3 (Jamie Kay) for a calm workhorse effort that was watertight, businesslike and subtly accomplished. Add to this his sportsmanship and I reckon the choice is spot on the mark.
FINAL THOUGHT - I chatted with a couple of local bods before the match and they informed me this would be a match like the ring-piece of Pope John Paul the 3rd - a tight one. I made my prediction for a 2 - 2 draw and once more exhibited a footballing insight on par with that of Carlton Palmer - severely negligible. The end result though was no freak accident or bizarre stroke of luck but simply down to a team off colour playing one full of spunk, highly organised and with a bunch of hoofers very much in cahoots and on the same wavelength. We came, we buggered off home and we were impressed by the set up, the politeness of many people and the overall input of a well-oiled machine. This Whaley Bridge affair needs more support and during the mayhem of our busy lives we shall certainly be making further efforts. I shall also be supporting Wythenshawe too and I was particularly taken by the fact that they battled to the end despite the chance of gaining any points more probable than Garth Crooks ever reducing his weight below the 20 stone barrier. Next year the North-West Counties await I hear, there is work to be done for a team in transition - face the task and go get em' fellas.
The first few rotations of the globe occurred and the guests were straight through with No 10 (Gavin Salmon) shrugging off an attempted tackle and letting one fly. The home No 1 (James Tattersall) was wide awake and saved with solid efficiency - what a good start! The Wythenshawe pressure built but the boys from The Bridge were resolute and came back and earned a free-kick. The ball was put forth, chaos reined, a tussle and a make-up was had, the game continued at a fair old gallop. A foul next saw the ball fly off at an angle and thwack an elderly on-looker full in the mush. His glasses went flying, his eye and nose bled, his head was no doubt spinning quicker than the accursed lass in The Exorcist. The defender for Whaley Bridge No 3 (Jamie Kay) was over to apologise and then a physio came and gave grand attention - a nice touch. The fella took things in good heart was soon back with his peepers on the action...talking of which...! The home chaps now built a fine momentum, akin to Billy Casper fleeing the local shopkeeper after helping himself to a packet of No 6 fags. The visiting defence was getting stretched and out of the threat No 7 (Bill Sutton) struck one and brought up the opening goal. It was well taken but instead of celebrating the aforementioned Kay came once more to check on the injured spectator (see, things ain't all bad). Whaley Bridge came on again, a free-kick was had, delivered and knocked down for Sutton to finish after a tidy twist of the hips. It was a sweet yet simple goal, the rear guard of Wythenshawe looked far from happy.
From here the travelling team tried to kick back and advanced with pumping shanks. As they entered the final zone a return long ball grazed the noggin of No 10 (George Burgess) who touched on to the the ever-hungry No 11 (Daniel Gilbride). The flank flasher ran and cross, red alert came for the opposition, their tidy No 3 (Paulo Incaque) timed his tackle well and did just enough to stem the tide. Next and a corner for The Bridge was had due to the sheer determination of their No 9 (Jack Kelly), solid squire, solid. The angled kick came, found the other side of the pitch and was put back in. No 6 (Jack Gregory) put his crust on the ball from only a few feet out, the block via the mittman was as sweet as a Blackbird's chuff (so I believe). Another corner came, Wythenshawe survived. A mistimed tackle followed, idiot verbals erupted, from the ensuing bonus ball No 11 (Ed Walker) of the Wythy Warriors exhibited some good feet and released to an escaping colleague. Alas glory was not to follow as the defensive shepherding was choice and the ball allowed to trickle out for a goal kick. Just as one thought Wythenshawe were clawing their way back out of the doghouse Whaley Bridge tightened the lead with another free-punt, a nod back and a third goal for Sutton. It was taken well, but it was all too easy and laid on a plate - this was looking like a rout. Soon after a kick from the WB mittman was nutted out and immediately volleyed home via the peg of Gregory. It was a beauty an ideal way to bring up the fourth. Not satisfied a ball over the top saw Sutton bring the ball down and test the visiting No 1 (Ben Daniels). The save that came was of lofty calibre, there is some justice after all. The half came to an end with the visitors trying to force matters but always being crowded out - it was just one of those days!
Half-time was spent swilling the obligatory tea, We put a tenner in the donation box and re-took our positions.
The second half started in frisky fashion, it brought back memories of the opening round of the World Butter Boxing Fight between Bella Emberg and Doris Stokes, now that was a rollicking affair with Stokes winning by 2 falls and a possession. A hard push by the hosts saw Gilbride earn a corner and duly knock the ball in. The easiest header imaginable was taken by No 10 (George Burgess) and the 5 goal mark was attained. Soon after Gilbride put another gratis globe forward and saw Sutton grab another - it was as simple as it sounds, 6 - 0, what the ruddy Hell is happening? Wythenshawe now scrounged for any morsels, they were being outworked and out-thought but note need be made of Incaque at the rear who, despite being in a squad who were on a hiding, was still working away and catching the eye with some very efficient defending. It was all to little avail though as Sutton had two more cracks, both off target but showing threat still loomed large. The game went through a quiet spell, a Wythenshawe corner was wasted as one of their tribe went down easier than a skeleton in a breeze, some extra effort was needed for sure! The guest No 7 (Ash Leather) was running his gonads off, he eventually got one ball in but the header that came from No 12 (Jake Gregory) flew just wide. Up the other end and a substitute tiptoed through on the blindside and shot low but was thwarted by a quality save. The keeper got clobbered soon after, he was having a rough day but he did well to hang in and was soon back on his feet facing several more onslaughts. Wythenshawe strained for a consolation, Incaque played a ball through on which Walker advanced. The home keeper read the situation and collected with calmness. A swift attack by Wythy saw No 15 (James Taylor) let fly but the ball hit a colleague on the line and made a mockery of the effort. With only seconds remaining Salmon laid the ball off to Leather who slapped home and got one goal back just in time before proceedings were halted. He deserved that due to his constant dashing and never-say-die attitude, 6 - 1 it was, now who would have predicted that! There were some good stints shown today, primarily from the Whaley Bridge pack and my choice for man of the Match goes to No 3 (Jamie Kay) for a calm workhorse effort that was watertight, businesslike and subtly accomplished. Add to this his sportsmanship and I reckon the choice is spot on the mark.
FINAL THOUGHT - I chatted with a couple of local bods before the match and they informed me this would be a match like the ring-piece of Pope John Paul the 3rd - a tight one. I made my prediction for a 2 - 2 draw and once more exhibited a footballing insight on par with that of Carlton Palmer - severely negligible. The end result though was no freak accident or bizarre stroke of luck but simply down to a team off colour playing one full of spunk, highly organised and with a bunch of hoofers very much in cahoots and on the same wavelength. We came, we buggered off home and we were impressed by the set up, the politeness of many people and the overall input of a well-oiled machine. This Whaley Bridge affair needs more support and during the mayhem of our busy lives we shall certainly be making further efforts. I shall also be supporting Wythenshawe too and I was particularly taken by the fact that they battled to the end despite the chance of gaining any points more probable than Garth Crooks ever reducing his weight below the 20 stone barrier. Next year the North-West Counties await I hear, there is work to be done for a team in transition - face the task and go get em' fellas.
HEYS RAISE THE BAR
22nd March 2018 - Prestwich Heys 4 v 0 St Helens Town - After a long day out on The Wirral in whipping winds, biting cold and eventually something akin to Springtime weather we started the week fagged out and under the influence of the lurgy. We had seen some good birds though and had a grand day out, the sniffles and aches would have manifested themselves anyway methinks. We woke up feeling like dead turds next day, as the week went on at work though we felt a little brighter (see you can polish shit) and so after a nudge from my mate STP Stu we made the trip to the Adie Moran Park and duly met up. Stu was already in attendance (you have to be bloody early to beat that worm-grabbing bugger), we partook of the bag-based liquid and awaited the teams whilst chewing the ever-ready cud! Since setting my target at 60 matches per season I find that this year I have gone overboard and slipped into the seas of the passionately senseless. My wife 'tut, tuts' but one of the symptoms of the prevalent disease is an inability to pick up on certain words and phrases such as 'No', 'Surely you can't be going to football again' or 'Can't you stop in and do a few odd jobs'. It is a curse, thank goodness I am blessed with a belter. The upshot of my mania has prompted me to attempt 100 matches in a season this time around and then make sure tis 60 and no more from here on in! To reach the century I will have to push harder than Elvis on the karsi or for that matter, Twiggy giving birth to a pygmy - I am going to have a go methinks, my lower orifices are clenched. So, match 78 of the campaign, here I go with another report from my arthritic mitts.
The pitch was in good condition, the air sprightly but not vulgar and the teams commenced the action with The Town's No 9 (Liam Diggle) gifted a ball in the first minute via a defensive blip. A rush of blood went to his flame haired bonse and he snatched at the shot and fired wide of the mark. An instant return was had, a free-kick was put into the box with enough height on it for the defenders to duly deal with. The lads at the back misread matters, the ball dropped from the night sky and pinged of the nugget of No 8 (Dominic Slaven) who nodded home with relative simplicity. St Helens had already contributed to an uphill task, their 2 corners in return were mighty average and it was already looking to be a long night for the travelling army. The early pattern set saw The Heys looking to dissect with a carving long ball whilst The Town tried to play through the middle using Diggle as a target and general troublemaker. One noticeable difference early on was that the home pack were very vocal and constantly communicating whilst the guests were lacking loquacity, a suggestion perhaps of the confidence of the two teams on show! For the record, and despite the Prestwich high level of organisation, St Helens did attain some level of parity and start to hold their own but the home crew were unflustered and when a free-kick came and the ever-impressive No 6 (Jacob Wood) put his head on the ball I thought the second goal was there to be had. The globe went wide of the upright, St Helens were clinging on here.
A collision next and the stuttering liquidity was halted altogether and Diggle for The Town limped off. A major loss this as the ex-Burscough bod is a good workhorse and when I had witnessed him at his former club I always thought he put in a decent stint. The sub was made, at 1 - 0 the away team were still in this but at the latter end of the first period No 10 (Christopher Baguley) took a free-kick for the hosts, a deflection came and No 11 (Anthony Hall) had a glorious chance to double his sides lead. The swing of the shank was packed with zeal, a red mist of triumph frazzled the cranium and the ball was whacked over the horizontal in no uncertain terms. The manager hailed a disappointed 'fuck off', I guess in a crude way it summed up the frustrations. As the half fizzled more PH pressure was applied but the opposing force survived as well as Robinson Crusoe on a hunger strike and somehow staggered into the dressing rooms still in touch.
We three spectators wandered for some cha' and in the clubhouse we met two fine fellows who are pinging around a few grounds and who we last nattered with at Sandbach. Bloody nice blokes and always a pleasure to pick up on others enthusiasm for this unassuming game. Back out and whilst wandering we had a chinwag with the flag bearing gem known as Sideburn Bob. The man is another hopping zealot with a grand nature although his name isn't Bob and he has no sideburns - now that's punk and due to this encounter I am changing my name to Long Dong Dimple Bum - I have no dimples on my arse and well, I reckon you can hazard a guess at the rest although I say it is all vicious rumour!
The teams came out and whilst chewing the cud with the aforementioned gent who lacked an hirsute countenance Prestwich raced down the other end of the pitch, executed 2 quick passes and clocked up the second goal of the night. No 9 (Lee Bruce) was the punisher, it was a sickening blow for the visitors, so much for the half time talk hey! St Helens now started to show more fervour, No 7 (Shaun Brady) was put through with the home mittman leaving his line and attempting to quell the peril. He got there in good time and produced a tidy save - the knackers of the frisky dog had just been nipped, it was well-timed. Prestwich Heys bounced back, the Town weren't applying enough pressure but their No 6 (Daniel Lomax) was battling like a bastard with a boil on his arse and whilst putting in some good work was trying to rally his team onto the next level. The said player gained one ball and threaded a silky pass through to the feet of No 10 (Daniel Greene) who shot and brought another regulation save from the mesh protector. In response PH won a corner and Woods got his bonse on the ball all too easily. The aim was slightly off, the visitors owed the devil a favour! The game went back and forth, matters looked settled, there was no way this result was in doubt and when The Heys won a free-kick, knocked it in and executed a knock down it was up to the substitute No 16 (John Main) to slam home from the angle - he did just that, 3 - 0, get the car engine warmed up folks.
The cock end of the contest was now dangling in finalised fashion, Prestwich pushed for one last arousing attack. Another gratis punt was granted, Baguley stepped up, clouted and the ball sailed straight through the keepers arms and into the netting. It was cream in the soccerised scone but even in the final minutes of the match Prestwich still displayed the greater appetite. The game was finally halted, we pissed off home and said farewell to a few friendly faces. In truth this was a one-sided contest, the Man of The Match can only come from the victors and my choice goes to No 10 (Christopher Baguley) who ran like a rampant rabbit, was always keen to create a killer move, threaded some sweet passes and who displayed a good engine with plenty of fuel in the tank - that is all one can ask for.
FINAL THOUGHT - I always try and remain positive with these reviews and give teams the benefit of the doubt but tonight I think I witnessed a St Helen's team who are in a spot of trouble and will do well to avoid the ultimate danger zone. As rumours abound it seems there may be no leakage from this competitive league next year and so the crew may live to fight another day - I sincerely hope so as they have one or two capable competitors in their outfit that can help them progress onto more rewarding levels. Tonight though they were outworked, out-thought and outplayed by a very well-oiled machine who do things without flamboyance or overly-adorned affect but who go about their business in a regulated and incessant way that always gets the best out of each individual component. Prestwich are sniffing around the the armpits of the promotional temptress, they are going to push matters further and having almost certainly guaranteed their play-off place may just sneak in automatically like a gay robot in a buttock-building factory - you get the gist!
The pitch was in good condition, the air sprightly but not vulgar and the teams commenced the action with The Town's No 9 (Liam Diggle) gifted a ball in the first minute via a defensive blip. A rush of blood went to his flame haired bonse and he snatched at the shot and fired wide of the mark. An instant return was had, a free-kick was put into the box with enough height on it for the defenders to duly deal with. The lads at the back misread matters, the ball dropped from the night sky and pinged of the nugget of No 8 (Dominic Slaven) who nodded home with relative simplicity. St Helens had already contributed to an uphill task, their 2 corners in return were mighty average and it was already looking to be a long night for the travelling army. The early pattern set saw The Heys looking to dissect with a carving long ball whilst The Town tried to play through the middle using Diggle as a target and general troublemaker. One noticeable difference early on was that the home pack were very vocal and constantly communicating whilst the guests were lacking loquacity, a suggestion perhaps of the confidence of the two teams on show! For the record, and despite the Prestwich high level of organisation, St Helens did attain some level of parity and start to hold their own but the home crew were unflustered and when a free-kick came and the ever-impressive No 6 (Jacob Wood) put his head on the ball I thought the second goal was there to be had. The globe went wide of the upright, St Helens were clinging on here.
A collision next and the stuttering liquidity was halted altogether and Diggle for The Town limped off. A major loss this as the ex-Burscough bod is a good workhorse and when I had witnessed him at his former club I always thought he put in a decent stint. The sub was made, at 1 - 0 the away team were still in this but at the latter end of the first period No 10 (Christopher Baguley) took a free-kick for the hosts, a deflection came and No 11 (Anthony Hall) had a glorious chance to double his sides lead. The swing of the shank was packed with zeal, a red mist of triumph frazzled the cranium and the ball was whacked over the horizontal in no uncertain terms. The manager hailed a disappointed 'fuck off', I guess in a crude way it summed up the frustrations. As the half fizzled more PH pressure was applied but the opposing force survived as well as Robinson Crusoe on a hunger strike and somehow staggered into the dressing rooms still in touch.
We three spectators wandered for some cha' and in the clubhouse we met two fine fellows who are pinging around a few grounds and who we last nattered with at Sandbach. Bloody nice blokes and always a pleasure to pick up on others enthusiasm for this unassuming game. Back out and whilst wandering we had a chinwag with the flag bearing gem known as Sideburn Bob. The man is another hopping zealot with a grand nature although his name isn't Bob and he has no sideburns - now that's punk and due to this encounter I am changing my name to Long Dong Dimple Bum - I have no dimples on my arse and well, I reckon you can hazard a guess at the rest although I say it is all vicious rumour!
The teams came out and whilst chewing the cud with the aforementioned gent who lacked an hirsute countenance Prestwich raced down the other end of the pitch, executed 2 quick passes and clocked up the second goal of the night. No 9 (Lee Bruce) was the punisher, it was a sickening blow for the visitors, so much for the half time talk hey! St Helens now started to show more fervour, No 7 (Shaun Brady) was put through with the home mittman leaving his line and attempting to quell the peril. He got there in good time and produced a tidy save - the knackers of the frisky dog had just been nipped, it was well-timed. Prestwich Heys bounced back, the Town weren't applying enough pressure but their No 6 (Daniel Lomax) was battling like a bastard with a boil on his arse and whilst putting in some good work was trying to rally his team onto the next level. The said player gained one ball and threaded a silky pass through to the feet of No 10 (Daniel Greene) who shot and brought another regulation save from the mesh protector. In response PH won a corner and Woods got his bonse on the ball all too easily. The aim was slightly off, the visitors owed the devil a favour! The game went back and forth, matters looked settled, there was no way this result was in doubt and when The Heys won a free-kick, knocked it in and executed a knock down it was up to the substitute No 16 (John Main) to slam home from the angle - he did just that, 3 - 0, get the car engine warmed up folks.
The cock end of the contest was now dangling in finalised fashion, Prestwich pushed for one last arousing attack. Another gratis punt was granted, Baguley stepped up, clouted and the ball sailed straight through the keepers arms and into the netting. It was cream in the soccerised scone but even in the final minutes of the match Prestwich still displayed the greater appetite. The game was finally halted, we pissed off home and said farewell to a few friendly faces. In truth this was a one-sided contest, the Man of The Match can only come from the victors and my choice goes to No 10 (Christopher Baguley) who ran like a rampant rabbit, was always keen to create a killer move, threaded some sweet passes and who displayed a good engine with plenty of fuel in the tank - that is all one can ask for.
FINAL THOUGHT - I always try and remain positive with these reviews and give teams the benefit of the doubt but tonight I think I witnessed a St Helen's team who are in a spot of trouble and will do well to avoid the ultimate danger zone. As rumours abound it seems there may be no leakage from this competitive league next year and so the crew may live to fight another day - I sincerely hope so as they have one or two capable competitors in their outfit that can help them progress onto more rewarding levels. Tonight though they were outworked, out-thought and outplayed by a very well-oiled machine who do things without flamboyance or overly-adorned affect but who go about their business in a regulated and incessant way that always gets the best out of each individual component. Prestwich are sniffing around the the armpits of the promotional temptress, they are going to push matters further and having almost certainly guaranteed their play-off place may just sneak in automatically like a gay robot in a buttock-building factory - you get the gist!
Friday 23 March 2018
TEN, NINE, TWO, TWO
21st March 2018 - Cheadle Town 2 v 2 AFC Blackpool - And as the season travels into the back passage of time (pass me the lube) I am catching up on many local yokel occurrences hence the reason I am back at Park Road (again) to watch another enthralling contest. We still hadn't turned the corner as regards the weather and it was yet another night that was armed with a chill. I was lucky, since 1963 I had been visiting the barbers of the Chelsea football player John Dempsey and collecting the discarded hair from that reckless comb-over. The resultant sack of follicle excess was then woven by a dwarf I keep in my cellar and knitted by my obese next door neighbour who can twiddle the needles with pace and create highly exotic clothing. The jumper made was 6 inches thick and mightily snug and adorned with pubic bobbles - I felt no sympathy for the victims to the night air that shivered around me, I may live a warped life but I have my small successes. So after tea I arrived at the ground, adopted a spying spot, had a chat with the home mittman's Dad and was joined by the ever amiable Rob York, Stockport Town's assistant secretary. I then began to construct a report but my writing was spidery as I had developed several uncontrollable itches cum twitches - why oh why didn't I wear a vest beneath the aforementioned hirsute garment and who would have thought Mr Dempsey was a sufferer of cranial crabs - oh heck!
The early advances came via the host team, No 11 (Christopher Sherrington) pumping in an early cross that saw No 9 (Luke Cotton) nearly latch onto. The sails of the hosts billowed and positivity was blowing forth with tangible effect but a midfield faux pas allowed the orange adorned opponents to blow a hole in the waters of hope and No 8 (Benjamin Fishwick) strode forth, belted from all of 20 yards and left the home keeper with little chance. A quick lead and one soon reinforced when a fast dash ended in a clumsy collision and the man in black pointed to the spot, Up stepped No (Benjamin Duffield) and converted with consummate ease, 0 - 2 and only 7 minutes on the timepiece. After making a hash of the opening promise Cheadle now had no choice but to call upon the reservoirs of resistance and take a deep draught of determination. The game became a sticky affair, decisive opportunities were few and far between but the early horror show had been cut short and although Blackpool were looking controlled on the ball Cheadle were mounting a flow of pressure and winning a few free-punts around the park. The hosts came on, a free-kick from No 5 (Joseph Shaw) tore the skyline a new rear ring, No 10 (Richard Whyatt) came next and led a charge with the ball played to Sherrington who put in a quite troublesome cross. The defensive duties were applaudable, the following corner was also dealt with, the threat for the time being was snuffed out.
We were already into the final throes of the first period, both teams were clutching at straws trying to reassert themselves but both lacking the Midas touch. A Cheadle break saw a darn sexy ball from No 4 (Liam Delaney) played into the awaiting box but the outstretched lower phalanx of the flying Cotton was just shy on contact and Blackpool tried to reorganise and retaliate. The hosts were on a high, No 2 (Joseph Neild) had a shot which was too wild for its own good but then a rapid break saw the danger zone invaded and a shot come which was blocked on the line by the mitt of a fast reacting defender. A red card was brandished and a penalty given which was duly slotted home by the focused Delaney. It was deserved, the lads had battled and rode an early self-inflicted storm and somehow got themselves back into this intriguing affair. Before the referee had a chance to vibrate his pea (ooh what a sensation that must be) The Town had one last foray forth that saw a ball in get stabbed just wide - now that would have been a real shake up cum wake up for the flustered Mechanical Men. The central official had seen enough, he called for half-time - this one, like the fiddled tax return forms of Ken Dodd (allegedly), was nicely balanced.
A chat with Rob, he was armed with Lemon French Fancies, I am a mere mortal with a sweet tooth and so indulged - the man is a star, I hope I am not being groomed. I nipped for a piddle and met a men with some Lemon French Ticklers, I am easily led but was still under the weather from a cold, my rear end remained unboomed. To add - one of the aforementioned sentences is a lie, can you guess which!
Out the teams came for the second period, Blackpool earned the first angular hoof, it led to a Cheadle race away that saw a cross come laden with peril. The guests managed to survive with ease but when another cross cum shot was put in by No 7 (Callum Collinson) the visiting mitted man did well to tip the ball over. It was all going the way of Cheadle now, No 8 (Daniel Wood) produced a good move and pass and then Neild knocked in a teasing ball that was nutted onto the upright but was ruled offside anyway. Neild put in another glorious ball, a Blackpool slip up allowed Whyatt to nip in and release. The Blackpool No 1 (Andy Speight) saved well and kept his side with their heads in front. A penalty shout came soon after, Blackpool continued to ride the Donkey of Fortune, in fact they were running the old bugger into the ground, I can hear the condom infested sands calling. Things now became heated, the benches became vociferous and a blatant shirt tugging incident only inflamed matters. Tension rose, the Cheadle posse galloped, only at the last did panic strike and mar the final finish. Blackpool offered the odd free-kick and potential break but nothing of hair-raising danger followed. As the Tin Hut tyrants attempted an advance a counter ball was put through, Collinson squared from the flanks and up stepped the ever-eager Whyatt to tap home.
The Town continued to maraud, a cross in, all heads missed it, I am still trying to figure out how? A response by Blackpool came (about time too), a free kick near the touchline found a bonse, the ball boomed way off target. As the grass grew around our feet the home lads had one last thrust. A bonus ball was put in, a nut made contact (who the hell was it) a superb save was had with the ball pushed onto the post and eventually gathered - a life-saving stretch that, good work sir. From here desperation set in, a late tackle saw a red card and Blackpool lose another player. I thought the decision was harsh, Blackpool were aggrieved, I could understand that as there was no malicious intent just merely a tired carcass mistiming matters. The finish was assisted by vocal gusto, it didn't affect the scoreline, in fact it never does, we finish with a wholesome draw - fair enough I thought. Man of the Match tonight goes to The Cheadle Town No 2 (Joseph Neild) a very cultured player who exposed some neat feet, who plays at a very steady pace and who added a level head in a whipped up team and who contributed to the final point gained - appreciations indeed!
FINAL THOUGHT - A game of two halves, the first being a strange affair that saw 3 goals but little in the way of nut-tingling excitement. The second half only had the one strike and was one that saw a team trying to pilfer the full end glory and another team attempt to protect what they had and set up a wall of defiance. This second period answered so many questions and hopefully taught a few lessons. Cheadle are growing in stature and just need to calm down when in the ascendancy and make sure they vary their options when taking the game to their opponents. They have a good 'never say die' spirit in the camp, I reckon the next campaign could see them be in a very interesting mix. AFC Blackpool looked a very reliable outfit tonight with some pacey players and with much organisation in the ranks. Until the red card incidents they seemed to be in quiet control and will surely make it into the play-offs and cause numerous headaches for those trying to advance to the next stage. I shall watch them closely, so close in fact that I'll be at their ground very soon, last time was a joy, all I want is more of the same, I may even bring my trumpet to assist the tympanic twatter - mind you, calling my penis a trumpet is quite optimistic I think!
The early advances came via the host team, No 11 (Christopher Sherrington) pumping in an early cross that saw No 9 (Luke Cotton) nearly latch onto. The sails of the hosts billowed and positivity was blowing forth with tangible effect but a midfield faux pas allowed the orange adorned opponents to blow a hole in the waters of hope and No 8 (Benjamin Fishwick) strode forth, belted from all of 20 yards and left the home keeper with little chance. A quick lead and one soon reinforced when a fast dash ended in a clumsy collision and the man in black pointed to the spot, Up stepped No (Benjamin Duffield) and converted with consummate ease, 0 - 2 and only 7 minutes on the timepiece. After making a hash of the opening promise Cheadle now had no choice but to call upon the reservoirs of resistance and take a deep draught of determination. The game became a sticky affair, decisive opportunities were few and far between but the early horror show had been cut short and although Blackpool were looking controlled on the ball Cheadle were mounting a flow of pressure and winning a few free-punts around the park. The hosts came on, a free-kick from No 5 (Joseph Shaw) tore the skyline a new rear ring, No 10 (Richard Whyatt) came next and led a charge with the ball played to Sherrington who put in a quite troublesome cross. The defensive duties were applaudable, the following corner was also dealt with, the threat for the time being was snuffed out.
We were already into the final throes of the first period, both teams were clutching at straws trying to reassert themselves but both lacking the Midas touch. A Cheadle break saw a darn sexy ball from No 4 (Liam Delaney) played into the awaiting box but the outstretched lower phalanx of the flying Cotton was just shy on contact and Blackpool tried to reorganise and retaliate. The hosts were on a high, No 2 (Joseph Neild) had a shot which was too wild for its own good but then a rapid break saw the danger zone invaded and a shot come which was blocked on the line by the mitt of a fast reacting defender. A red card was brandished and a penalty given which was duly slotted home by the focused Delaney. It was deserved, the lads had battled and rode an early self-inflicted storm and somehow got themselves back into this intriguing affair. Before the referee had a chance to vibrate his pea (ooh what a sensation that must be) The Town had one last foray forth that saw a ball in get stabbed just wide - now that would have been a real shake up cum wake up for the flustered Mechanical Men. The central official had seen enough, he called for half-time - this one, like the fiddled tax return forms of Ken Dodd (allegedly), was nicely balanced.
A chat with Rob, he was armed with Lemon French Fancies, I am a mere mortal with a sweet tooth and so indulged - the man is a star, I hope I am not being groomed. I nipped for a piddle and met a men with some Lemon French Ticklers, I am easily led but was still under the weather from a cold, my rear end remained unboomed. To add - one of the aforementioned sentences is a lie, can you guess which!
Out the teams came for the second period, Blackpool earned the first angular hoof, it led to a Cheadle race away that saw a cross come laden with peril. The guests managed to survive with ease but when another cross cum shot was put in by No 7 (Callum Collinson) the visiting mitted man did well to tip the ball over. It was all going the way of Cheadle now, No 8 (Daniel Wood) produced a good move and pass and then Neild knocked in a teasing ball that was nutted onto the upright but was ruled offside anyway. Neild put in another glorious ball, a Blackpool slip up allowed Whyatt to nip in and release. The Blackpool No 1 (Andy Speight) saved well and kept his side with their heads in front. A penalty shout came soon after, Blackpool continued to ride the Donkey of Fortune, in fact they were running the old bugger into the ground, I can hear the condom infested sands calling. Things now became heated, the benches became vociferous and a blatant shirt tugging incident only inflamed matters. Tension rose, the Cheadle posse galloped, only at the last did panic strike and mar the final finish. Blackpool offered the odd free-kick and potential break but nothing of hair-raising danger followed. As the Tin Hut tyrants attempted an advance a counter ball was put through, Collinson squared from the flanks and up stepped the ever-eager Whyatt to tap home.
The Town continued to maraud, a cross in, all heads missed it, I am still trying to figure out how? A response by Blackpool came (about time too), a free kick near the touchline found a bonse, the ball boomed way off target. As the grass grew around our feet the home lads had one last thrust. A bonus ball was put in, a nut made contact (who the hell was it) a superb save was had with the ball pushed onto the post and eventually gathered - a life-saving stretch that, good work sir. From here desperation set in, a late tackle saw a red card and Blackpool lose another player. I thought the decision was harsh, Blackpool were aggrieved, I could understand that as there was no malicious intent just merely a tired carcass mistiming matters. The finish was assisted by vocal gusto, it didn't affect the scoreline, in fact it never does, we finish with a wholesome draw - fair enough I thought. Man of the Match tonight goes to The Cheadle Town No 2 (Joseph Neild) a very cultured player who exposed some neat feet, who plays at a very steady pace and who added a level head in a whipped up team and who contributed to the final point gained - appreciations indeed!
FINAL THOUGHT - A game of two halves, the first being a strange affair that saw 3 goals but little in the way of nut-tingling excitement. The second half only had the one strike and was one that saw a team trying to pilfer the full end glory and another team attempt to protect what they had and set up a wall of defiance. This second period answered so many questions and hopefully taught a few lessons. Cheadle are growing in stature and just need to calm down when in the ascendancy and make sure they vary their options when taking the game to their opponents. They have a good 'never say die' spirit in the camp, I reckon the next campaign could see them be in a very interesting mix. AFC Blackpool looked a very reliable outfit tonight with some pacey players and with much organisation in the ranks. Until the red card incidents they seemed to be in quiet control and will surely make it into the play-offs and cause numerous headaches for those trying to advance to the next stage. I shall watch them closely, so close in fact that I'll be at their ground very soon, last time was a joy, all I want is more of the same, I may even bring my trumpet to assist the tympanic twatter - mind you, calling my penis a trumpet is quite optimistic I think!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)