Sunday 31 March 2019

EMPTY NEST

30th March 2019 - Swallownest FC 0 v 1 Parkgate FC - We started the day today mighty early and headed across the Woodhead Pass and down the M1 to arrive at Rother Valley Country Park as the sun was just starting to exhibit its potential.  We had a good walk, a few bugs, many birds and several blooms with dinner enjoyed and a sprawl had whilst reading our chosen paperbacks.  We arrived at Swallownest FC 90 minutes before kick-off, had a chill, entered the ground and duly scoffed some fine chips and slurped some tea.  We took up our positions in the sun, my good lady had a read, I looked for a few bugs, the best was the Hoverfly (Eupeodes luniger) the first of the year - yippee.  This was a game that was outside our normal territory, we normally stick to the North West Counties League and throw in the odd excursion here and there to keep things interesting.  I had no idea what the Hell was going to happen here, maybe the referee would spontaneously combust, a one-legged streaker would hop his way to arousing success or the whole pitch would collapse and suck us all into a vortex of sheer madness - who knows?  I hoped for a good game, many goals and much excitement, I was to be left a trifle disappointed if the truth be known and as a result, considered assassinating the club Chairman as way of recompense - I do get worked up at times.  The teams eventually came out, my pen was prepared to gush, here is what dripped from the nib.

The host team swooped quickest, a firm cross  by No 4 (Mitch Ward) found the bonse of No 10 (Jason Short) but the execution was lacking direction and went straight into the keepers awaiting hands.  Parkgate reacted, No 11 (Silas Collins) slapped in a cross that was nutted behind for a corner with the resultant kick from the angle an early contender of 'The Big Match Bilge Award'.  The opening throes offered very few further chances, both sides struggling to settle and looking overly keen to create.  The closest we actually got to a goal was when the home keeper launched a free-kick from his own half and watched it bounce over No 1 and alas, over the bar - that could have been interesting to say the least.  The match ticked on, hollers of 'time, time' came from both packs when a colleague was in possession, all we got was rushed and panic riddled football with no composure.  Swallownest somehow cultivated a rare chance, a bonus boot was awarded just outside the box which No 7 (Luke Beedham) knocked over the horizontal - it could be one of those days!

From here shabby tackles, lack of control, a rock hard pitch that showed no forgiveness and rising irritation all contributed to an affair that was far from liquid football - this was a grueller. The home birds started to shade matters and won a series of free-kicks and corners but surprise, surprise, all to no avail.  As half-time approached a bloke came round collecting funds for the charity MIND.   We duly put our bit in the pot and wondered, if after witnessing a match such as this, that in the near future, depression will have taken hold and we would be needy service users - it seemed possible the way things were going.  The final gasps of the half came like the death rattle of a constipated hippo.  The Nest had a shot boomed high and then a final move came with No 8 (Oliver Grady) sending in a long, angled cross that was met by the crust of Short at the back post - wide the ball went.  Crikey that was bordering on excitement and my good lady had to hold me upright as my legs gave way under the unexpected high - thankfully the referee blew for half time and I had time to recompose (please add own sarcasm).

We stayed put for the break, soaked up the rays and looked for an appropriate spot to hang ourselves - it was that kind of game.  The players eventually came back out, would we find anything to get aroused by or would the game remain as the love-life of ex-wrestler Big Daddy - full of huff and puff but no end thrill.

The second period stuttered and lacked any real composure.  As stated, the pitch was unforgiving and many a bobble brought a miskick or bounced the ball too far when a probing pass was played.  Parkgate started to apply themselves and won a free-kick.  The ball in was on target, the tip over by the keeper was the high point of the game thus far.  The corner came, a leg came out, the ball went into the net - own goal, it kind of summed things up - if ever a game was going to be decided by an error this was it.  With the deadlock broken substitutes came each way and then a rare excursion into pastures perilous came for the hosts with a long ball flicked on by the cranium of No 9 (Alex Lill) allowing Short to fire just off target.  A few miskicks came next, one or two highly sauced tackles with vulgarities exchanged - whilst all the while Parkgate increase the stranglehold on the game and suffocated their opponents endeavours in all areas.  

The final stretch saw Swallownest appear like a pissed-up Einstein and lack any ideas whereas Parkgate where like a Viagra-laden lobber and stayed somewhat firm.  The home lads worked hard, No 2 (Aaron Statham) trespassed, received the globe in the box, turned with haste and let fly - once more the ball, like the voice of Joe Pasquale whilst wearing a razor-filled thong, had too much elevation.  Bookings came, weak efforts had, Parkgate nearly produced a freak moment when a throw-in missed all heads and limbs and hit the near post - ooh!  The match limped to the finale, Statham had a fine thrust forth but was tumbled and the free-kick that followed lacked any real 'oomph' - it was with great relief when the referee called for full-time - get me outta here folks, this has been a trial.  Man of the Match today gives me a chance to end on a positive note and goes to Parkgate FC's No 5 (Haydn Ward) who was a stable player throughout, made sure the back ranks stayed firm and was a strong contributor to the final shut-out - it never goes unnoticed.

FINAL THOUGHT - So we came, we saw and after dipping our hands into the nest of the swallow we came away with only one Goal-den egg and even that was slightly cracked and lacked the true polish purist's so highly desire.   These things happen, sometimes two teams come together onto the field of battle and consistently fire blanks, mistime their attacks and duly snuff each other out.  There was an abundance of endeavour on show today, plenty of frantic excitement but for me, the main culpable parties were the pitch and the general lack of commanding composure.  The game needed one team to get the ball, pass and play and have a lengthy bout of possession to get a real feel for the conditions and the baled turf beneath the galloping feet.  I think both units could have played until Doomsday and no real breakthrough would have been had, sometimes you just have to be acceptant of a situation.  All in attendance seemed in agreement this hadn't been a prize-winning encounter with one guy wandering off and stating he will miss the next home match as he couldn't take anymore.  I will hopefully catch up with both parties again at some point and will see all involved do themselves justice, therefore I will reserve ultimate judgement until then.  We had enjoyed our visit nonetheless and wish all and sundry the best - keep trying and enjoying folks, it is still better than doing sweet FA.

Wednesday 27 March 2019

TUESDAY NIGHT TICKLER

26th March 2019 - Congleton Town 2 v 1 Northwich Victoria - Into the rear end of the season we go with only 10 matches left for we two wanderers to attend.  The run-in will be used to catch a few new teams and squeeze in some neglected favourites - there are too many of both to be honest.  A day at work, a breezy ride down to the ground and the usual scenario set - chips, tea, arses on seats.  As per I am run ragged, it is all self-inflicted and down to nothing more than passion and what many would deem stupidity - alas the many are wrong and to do is my raison d'etre.  A home win looked on the cards tonight but when, at this stage of the season, legs are tired, there is little to play for and summer excursions beckon - well, who the Hell knows.  I have a Buddhist figurine that has the head of Brough Scott and a pecker that resembles a nude John McCrirrick picking up a ten bob bit - I use it to garner an insight into future realms - all I need do is rub the swollen bits and close my eyes (not in public though).  The piece of prophecy indicated an 8 - 8 draw, I think I may have rubbed certain areas a little too vigorously - darn these heavy hands.  I shoved the ornament up my pet donkey's arse and opted for a 3 - 1 win for The Bears - only by reading this report will you find out the end result and if, the head pills I am on, have eventually kicked in.

The first hint at any action came via a few shots each way with No 7 (William Hasler-Cregg) for the
Congo and No 11 (Jordan Darr) for the Vics putting in early range finders that brought little in the way of brow-furrowing consternation for either keeper.  The hosts began to apply a certain pressure with Hasler-Cregg a noticeable splinter in the jacksie of the opponents rear.  A decent ball was played through much midfield mither that saw No 10 (Saul Henderson) flick on with his lofted crust and No 9 (Daniel Cope) receive with the goal gaping wider than the oral orifice of a sprog before a lactating nipple.  The ball was boomed, a gasp arose from the onlookers, the ball penetrated the night-time air rather than the awaiting zone of glory, the groans from the punters were thoroughly justified.  Immediately after Hasler-Cregg captured the ball, cut in with concentrated focus, shot and forced a decent save.  The keeper looked to clear, Cope blocked and a moment of panic ensued, somehow the mittman recovered.

What a hectic start with the guests under the cosh.  The Vics managed to cultivate a sortie forth, the hirsute No 10 (John Connolly) was an integral part of a move that saw his shot blocked and ultimately cleared.  From here the visitors had a period of high potential with several passes just falling short of the 'killer' grade.  Shots came each end, there was nothing to raise any goosebumps of excitement until Congleton flashed forth with No 11 (Emini Adegbenro) scampering down the wing, blazing in a low cross that was touched back with Henderson walloping and rattling the timber - now that was close.  Another ball forth came next, Cope took it down quite beautifully and let fly - just off target.  More shots came, the same outcome was had, the shooting boots were slowly getting warmed up.  Suddenly Hasler-Cregg received, fantastic urgency and drive were displayed through a run that traversed several defensive guardians.  The peg was eventually swung, the contact was perfect, the bottom corner was found, it was a strike well deserved and added a new dimension to a fascinating affair.

Northwich Victoria came on next, a ball in and out was knocked back with precise interest by the feet of No 8 (Matthew Clarke).  The ball flew with good impetus, the only thing lacking was direction, the bar was missed by the smallest of margins.  No 4 (Dominic Craig) had a pop next, again off line and then The Bears pounced, a free-kick found Henderson who had an AWOL keeper to beat.  The shot was at the centre of goal, the mittman back-pedalled quicker than a Tory MP, somehow a gloved hand extended and just recovered the situation, in truth, it was a fine moment of redemption.  This slice of salvation though was instantaneously negated when a ball by No 8 (Dean Warburton) entered the 6 yard box, Cope stuck his neck out and tupped the ball homeward. 2 - 0 to the hosts, that looked to be it for the first period but not so, The Vics had other designs, passed and probed around the box, a player dashed, was tumbled, a penalty awarded.  Up stepped No 9 (Brian Matthews), he slammed the ball into the keeper but the impetus was high and the net eventually found - we went into the break on a knife-edge (ooh me arse).

We stayed put for the interval and listened to a few elderly gents nearby natter away about Quatermass, The Golden Shot and of course, the match.  They are a grand bunch here, very amiable folk and make this place a joy to visit - as per, supporters are what make any club what it is, end of.

The second half started with increasing gusto, shots came, threat was minimal and both teams really started to snuff one another out and so impede any real flow.  Cope for the hosts took a free-kick that was closer than first anticipated and then more attempts either way were dealt with or just plain old duff.  Eventually The Bears began to bite, Hasler-Clegg released a beauty but just couldn't create enough bend to sneak inside the upright.  The NV ranks needed some respite and needed it in double quick time but the Town came once more, Adegbenro wriggled away down the wing and fed Henderson with a neatly placed pass.  The shot was like the freshly drained testicles of Old Homo Giles - lacking in spunk.  2 gratis-digs for The Vics were had, one was from the teams own half that led to the second just inside the 'D' - alas the punt was piss-poor.  The time was gobbled up with little action had, the visitors worked mighty hard but the chances that came either way lacked a finishing spark and were negated by some reliable defending.

Down the run in and Congleton played a fine containing game, Northwich Victoria had a penalty claim waved away and then, from the midst of grinding animation, No 12 (John Main) latched onto a long pass and looked set to sign, seal and deliver the 3 point prize.  Once again the shot was lightweight and wide.   The last gasp saw a NV free-kick enter the goal area but a touch was lacking and that was that.  The first half had been a beauty, the second a chess-match that dampened true thrills.  From the hard work Man of the Match goes to the Congleton Town No 5 (Thomas Morris) for a pivotal performance that oozed dogged determination, a stubborn resistance and a defender's insight into protecting and building from the back.  A good player this, one The Town need to hold onto. 

FINAL THOUGHT - It was one of those games tonight that was of two contrasting halves - the first a brisk and bright affair that exhibited free-flowing football with chances aplenty at either end and the home team dazzling in many areas.   The second half was a less flamboyant event with a clash of styles contributing to a battle of wills and only the barest opportunity to ripple mesh on offer.  The home team are almost a complete unit and only the barest tinkering is needed to make this the full-on machine destined for the next step up.  Our visits to the Cheshire Silk 106.9 Stadium are always a joy, no matter how tired or how flustered we always feel welcome, enjoy the ambience created by the faithful and always witness a good game of soccer - tonight was no exception and applause must go to both sides for the fair play and good approach to the game.  The Vics worked away and have many classy elements but were just outdone tonight by a decent group of players.  Perhaps the FA Vase distraction isn't helping and of course, that is where emphasis must lie.  Nevertheless there were many positives tonight, much to applaud and one or two players who look to be in real command of the game.  The fight for third spot is still on, only a few points separates the teams with The Vics holding games in hand, it could be an interesting run in.

Sunday 24 March 2019

ECK-CEPTIONAL DESIRES

23rd March 2019 - Eccleshall FC 4 v 3 Stockport Town - Up with the lark, out quicker than a fart from a laxative laden eel, down to Doxey Marshes with hopes higher than the voice of Jimmy Somerville on a helium bender.  We arrived, spent a good while birding and saw some good species along the way, Little Egret, Great White Egret and Cattle Egret the most noteworthy.  A call off at Sainsbury's for some scram was had and then to Pershall Park we went to have a sit in the car and replenish the batteries.  After the bellies were filled we had a wander down a nearby country track and examined the hedgerows coming up with a good list of buglife including 40 Pied Shieldbugs, 1 Common Green Shieldbug, 1 Hairy Shieldbug and 3 species of Mining Bee amongst others.  Wandering back to the ground and tea and chips was a must, a walk around the pitch was had and a chat with a few faces very much enjoyed.   This game, according to recent results, looked set to be an away win but, as ever with this Non-League Lottery - anything goes.  If anyone out there uses the form book for anything else than wiping their backside or making paper planes then they really do need to have a word with themselves - this is the North West Counties League - a realm of excitement, endless possibilities and unpredictability, in fact, I have a story to tell about these things, it goes something like this.

The embryonic action saw things level out and no team really gain the upperhand.  Eventually the home lads cultivated the initial opportunity with a ball up and over landing at the feet of the pacey No 10 (Bradley Carr) who seemed surprised to be in a shooting position.  The shank was swung, the ball propelled but the travelling No 1 (Andrei Stinca) stood his ground and proved to be an immovable force.  A corner came, it had about as much quality as a diluted bottle of No Frills Vimto - as you were folks.  The Ecky Army came once more, a sharp attack that saw a ball thread in the flying No 2 (Conor Docherty).  The player at the apex of the onslaught had a chance to shoot, he hesitated before releasing, the ball was partially blocked, went loose and up popped No 3 (Lewis Dunn) to bumble the globe over the line and grab the oh so crucial first goal.  The home heads looked delighted, the Lions slightly tamed, imagine the uproar in the resident ranks when they pilfered the ball from the kick off, No 9 (Thomas Wakefield) received near the halfway line and succeeded in audaciously chipping the keeper and doubling the home side's lead.   What a goal, what a turn up - remember what I said about endless possibilities.

The Lions now had to pounce and press, they came on but looked a trifle disjointed up at the front.  No 3 (Kieron McConnell) battled just outside the box and connected well with the ball that saw it fizz just the wrong side of the horizontal - a warning shot across the boughs perhaps?  Eccleshall counterpunched from this scare, No 11 (Daniel Needham) was released, exposed applaudable pace and got a shot away that was sturdily blocked by a never-say-die defender.  The Town bounced back, No 11 (George Blackwell) indulged in some tricky play, knocked a ball out wide that No 10 (Kiarno Samms) gathered at the angle. The player in possession looked to cut in and cross but instead let fly with grim determination and blistered one right into the meat of the mesh - what a solid strike, this one was far from over folks.

The guests now displayed a far better attitude and approach than previously seen in this gripping game.  2 corners came, the second ended with Samms bulging the side netting.  Eccleshall had a corner of their own, the delivery found Needham who exhibited feet quicker than Tommy Steele on steroids, the shot however was blocked by yet more resolute defending.  The Eck advanced again, Wakefield used decent strength to play an exquisite crossfield ball that Docherty collected.  The latter player rasped in a daisy beheading sizzler that begged for the touch of an assassin, alas the killer was absent, what a pity!  A break followed, a home player got a stern talking to and a yellow card for a clumsy tackle.  Shots came each end, both were easily dealt with by the protectors of the mesh and then another saucy tackle impeded the flow.  A free-kick for the travellers came, in the ball went and then sent the other way with Ecky's Needham on the run.  The goal beckoned, the chance to shoot on offer, alas for the hosts Stockport's No 2 (Joshua Robinson) produced a stunning tackle and killed the danger stone dead.  That looked to be it, the first 45 was almost done but there was still a twist in the frisky tail with Stockport Town marauding at the death, No 9 (Gavin Salmon) was on it just outside the box, was bungled down and thus earned a gratis boot.  Up stepped No 8 (Robert Lofthouse), he eyed his spot, wallop - the sickener for the hosts had been dealt, the smash and grab equaliser for the visitors earned - when the referee blew for the break all in attendance were surely in agreement - this was an unpredictable beauty!

A cuppa for the break, a chat with a few fine folk, the weather was spot on, the warm friendly atmosphere of the ground readily noted, what more could anyone ask for besides a full-English breakfast, an Indian buttock message, a lifetime supply of pies and the gift of eternal life for me and my loved ones - hey ho, perhaps I am a trifle to demanding?

The teams came back out, The Town had an early free-kick that found the crust of Salmon who could only knock it wide, the hosts responed with a corner that saw Wakefield put in a close header that was sweetly tipped over the bar.  Corners followed each end, no explosive joy was had and then the home lads earned a free-kick on the edge of the box that Wakefield struck well but was easily collected by the alert mittman.  In return Robinson for Stockport was at the end of a multi-pass move with his shot saved, dropped and gathered at the second attempt.  To the opposite end we went, a free-kick the other way, Robinson popped one in, it was over by mere inches.  The game was anyone's for the taking, a patchy period saw both teams reluctant to gamble and push with any adventure.  The visitors made a few changes, Eccleshall had 4 corners on the bounce, the first 3 went into the great footballing almanac labelled as 'pointless' the last however entered the danger zone, was knocked out and returned with interest by Docherty who drilled through the pack and regained his side the much desired lead.  It was another great strike, it was indication of a team dragged back into combat but not prepared to give up anytime soon - excellent indeed.

Within minutes of this highpoint a tussle led to an Eccleshall free-kick.  The ball was sent forth with good elevation and middling pace.  The keeper came, misread the flight of the orb and was just in time to see the loose ball fall to Carr who slammed home and give his side another 2 goal cushion.  The home supporters faces blossomed with sincere delight, the 11 creators of the joy looked over the moon, all the hosts had to do now was tighten the ranks and see this one out for 3 valuable points.  The minutes ticked, there were 10 to go when suddenly Samms for The Town should resilience out wide, knocked in a cross that No 7 (Reece Skelton) latched onto and made this one 4 - 3- wow!

Into the dregs we went, it was a touch and go period with the referee seemingly the owner of a busted ticker and thus creating a situation of warped time.   The travelling pack hussled and harried, the hosts answered each and every challenge and bust many a gonad trying to protect their now fragile lead.  2 half chances were all that came for the trailing pack, both snuffed out with relative ease by a perspiring unit who desperately wanted this one.  At the death the home keeper cracked a long ball forth to ease the pressure, Wakefield was on the end of it and with a tired carcass hit a first time shot that crawled wide - it could have been icing on the cake but as it transpired, it didn't matter as the man in black blew for full-time soon after and the 3 points stayed at Pershall Park.  The Man of the Match was a tricky decision but for me, No 6 (Callum Feeney) was a highly disciplined component in the Eccleshall ranks and went about his business with quiet authority that contributed more to this win than many may guess.  The work rate was high, the efficiency applaudable, for me this was an example of a reliable nucleus around which much opportunity was created.  So, farewells to many smiling faces, an adios and congratulations to the amiable club secretary Jim Tunney and homeward bound we went - what a good do hey!

FINAL THOUGHT - Desire is a bold commodity - it can achieve great things!  Today Eccleshall wanted it more than their opponents, they grafted with unstoppable ardour and worked throughout the 90 minute stretch and beyond.  Stockport Town are no mugs, they came, they tried, they were just outdone by a hungrier machine Hell-bent on the end triumph.  In truth, the guests looked a bit tired today and perhaps after their stunning 8 - 0 win last week were a trifle out of focus and not as motivated as they should have been.  This had been a wake up call and if a team wants to achieve the only way to do it is with consistency and a willingness to shift the shit week in and week out - this I feel is a small blip, they will be back for sure.  Eccleshall today had passion and urgency, come the end many legs were drained, many brows dripping and many lungs burning but, success had been achieved and without persistent hardwork and belief the story could have been oh so different.  I think the team did themselves proud today and of course gave their fine supporters a day to remember.  Eccleshall have a great set up here, the ambience of the place, the old school ground and rugged reality of the place is what Non-League is about and I don't think anyone (including the visitors) could go away with any complaints - this had been a fine advertisement for a game severely overlooked - applause must go to both teams and all who turned up.  Remember, we are blessed folk to be witnessing matters at grassroots level, today we had been given more proof of why overlooked football is the best - keep on folks, never give in and bloody well enjoy (I know we did).

Saturday 16 March 2019

AND FROM THE FLOODS...

16th March 2019 - Stockport Town 8 v 0 Stone Old Alleynians - The week was done, a week that had seen me keep up to date with the Joe 90 series, crack on at work and run around like an electric fart on steroids (whatever that means).  I had also been collecting some timber and started work on an Ark due to the recent downpours - call me a trifle previous but if the rain stays as it is I will be floating along with a smile on my face, with my loved ones on board and a whole array of animal shit to shovel overboard onto your doubting heads - you have been warned.  The morn was spent varnishing my plank (no, not a masturbation euphemism) and attaching it to the port side of the said craft.  Dinner was had, a maiden journey across the seas of Stockport taken, navigating such oceanic delights as The Blue Pyramid of Chavvery, the Plaza Straits and of course, the Mersey Basin.  We arrived at our footballing island in good time, my lady had to attend to a few animals on board, namely a goat with a leaking testicle, a hedgehog with a personality complex and a Spider Monkey with a moulting chuff.  She sailed into the distance, I bade her 'bon voyage' and entered the Stockport Sports Arena to await 90 minutes of head-clearing action.  Of late I had seen many goals, today I expected a very close affair with a draw the more likely outcome.   So, I took my seating position, had a good read of my latest PG Wodehouse book and then saluted and exchanged words with a few grand folk (John D and Abbey Hey Pete take your bows).  I tried to warn them of the diluvial doom that was on its way - they suggested I pull my self together, get my 'Popeye' tattoo removed and stop listening to Brother Noodle at the local Monastery.  I took the hint, concentrated on the game, here is what dripped forth from the tip of my pen.  If you think my ramblings fantastical, wait 'til you read what went on here!

On sodden turf of astro style the teams began to pursue the dampened orb, the elusive spherical bastard so many of us are mesmerised by.  The first troop of participants to take the porker by the plonker were the hosts with No 9 (Gavin Salmon) chasing down a lost cause, forcing the goalkeeper's kick to be rushed, clattering into the globe and being unfortunate to see the ball land back at the keepers feet.  Stone eventually began to gather themselves, 3 passes came and No 2 (William Byers) sent in a firm range finder that boomed over the horizontal.  The hosts were far from settled, they were just not getting enough time to consider with the guest No 7 (Michael Williams) seemingly a very effective component early on.  This noted player was involved in the next action when he blocked a firm effort from his opposite number (Reece Skelton) who was at the apex of a break and shot with hunger. The Town were soon driving headlong into the rain again, No 11 (George Blackwell) harried, caused a defensive faux pas with a wild miskick somehow skewing  down to the mittman's feet who duly clobbered clear.  The Old Alleynians responded, a ball out wide was lofted back in with ample elevation.  No 11 (Jacob Vernon) was waiting, he put his coconut on the leather, the outcome was off-target.  



The game was on a knife-edge, it was still as close as predicted.  Salmon for the hosts dashed, was tumbled, a free-kick earned.  The knock in was wonderfully precise, Salmon leapt like his fishy namesake and nutted the ball into the net with graceful measure - what an easy goal.  From here the home lads grew in stature and sanguinity, they swept forth, Salmon exposed great strength and fed Blackwell who
darted, crossed and saw No 8 (Kiarno Samms) take a first time touch.  The save that followed was crucial, the ensuing corner dealt with.  From here The Lions roared, they displayed a greater urgency and kept each other enthused.  A delay was followed by a home free-kick, Salmon received, took a punt through a crowd of players.  The keeper dove, partially saved but the impetus of the ball carried it over the line - 2 - 0 - well who would have thought it?


The visiting tribe had a terse period of ball ownership but looked a little lackadaisical when entering the final third. 
Stockport broke again, impetus and desire were high, Blackwell linked and crossed, No 6 (Oliver Davies) for Stone produced some great defensive work and gave away a corner that was snuffed out. The guests put in a nice passing sequence next, at the latter end was No 10 (Luke Askey) who sent forth a low driller that wasn't a killer and was saved by the home No 1 (Andrei Stinca).  Again the resident team reacted, a corner had and played with a flick header just missing the target zone.  During the last gasps of the first 45 minutes the home No 3 (Jack McConnell) rifled in a close blazer that was quelled.  From yet another Stockport Town foray Stone caught them napping with a long ball over the top that their No 9 (Jack Tomlinson) galloped onto.   The keeper was there to beat, the gloved one held his ground and when the shot came he blocked well and made sure his side went into the break 2 goals to the good.

For half-time I stayed put and nattered to the aforementioned enthusiasts.  The weather was utterly awful, the game though, so far, was keeping me warm.

The second half began with The Lions showing greatest hunger, No 10 (Robert Lofthouse) had an early boomer that struck the bar and brought up great gasps from the brave souls in attendance.  The same side were soon at it again, a ball down the wing saw a sweet flick from Samms release No 2 (Joshua Robinson) who sensed glory, charged forth, eyed the far corner and coolly slid the ball home.  It was a quick and decisive move, a defining moment and when Stone tried to respond and were hit with a break, their hearts were broken when Salmon gathered, spurted and released.  A wicked deflection left the keeper with no chance whatsoever, the net was bulged and the game finally put out of reach.  The four goals were utterly deserved and a short quiet spell was welcome and gave me time to gather my thoughts and chew a few flavoursome toffee drumsticks.

As I earnestly masticated, Blackwell for the home team wandered, weaved and shot.  Again Davies for the visitors produced a fine bit of defending and from off the line knocked the spherical projectile behind.  The resultant corner brought little joy, Stone managed to survive and win a free-kick down the other end.  The ball played was direct, Askey nudged on with the noggin, Tomlinson nipped in but the final touch was soft.  The resident pack found the net again soon after, alas offside pissed on their chips but a free-kick moments later was whipped forth, numerous players were flying in and yet again Davies was there to clear - fantastic work sir.  A corner and a free-kick were dealt with, a delay allowed The Town to collect themselves and spring an attack.  Samms threaded a stunning pass, Blackwell was on it, dinked one over the prostrate keeper and it was 5 of the best and an unassailable lead had.

The back end of the game was on us, a Starling flew over through the falling liquid needles no doubt miffed at the weather and surprised at the scoreline going on below.  As the flapping wonder buggered off into the murk once more the leading team came,   A near-post corner was flicked on and just went over and then No 14 (Kyle Foley) received a stunning long pass and let rip a rasper (no, not rectally) that the keeper did well to tip over.  The angled kick came, the protector of the mesh dropped, Samms pounced like a python on a hotdog and placed home much to his great delight.  Within a twitch of the aforementioned Python's nipples (if indeed snakes do have the said pap-attachments) a free-kick came the same way, Samms received knocked in a simple ball and oh baby, the lucky seven was had.  Once again the celebration was ecstatic and the same player had a chance for his hattrick not long after due to some persistent hassling that brought about an untoward error.  The player worked into space, the goal was gaping wider than the rear end of Farmer Giles after that infamous incident with the prize artichoke.  The blood rose, the ball struck, three-goal triumph beckoned - bang, the upright quivered (no not that one) the miss was shocking, the player took it all in his stride.  

And to the final fling and we all thought we were done. Not so, the Squad of Stoners were being dragged all ways, a ball split the rear (ouch) Blackwell collected, the keeper was lobbed - kaboom - Stockport's biggest win and all done and dusted we were.  Wow - this had been some performance and a Man of the Match award goes to No 9 (Gavin Salmon) of Stockport Town for his time on the field that, from the off, set a tempo and an attitude, displayed a striker's heart that yearned for goals and of course, for the 3 strikes had that were ruddy well deserved.   I applauded the players off the pitch, had a chat with Club Secretary Rob and then pootled off in the rain - once more, what a pleasure.

FINAL THOUGHT - Man, oh man, where did this one come from? 
Stockport Town weren't lucky today, they deserved everything they got and in truth they could have reached double figures with a touch of extra fortune.  Some days everything comes together and the rewards are untold but the team who grabbed the 8 strikes were desirous, constantly nattering and sharper all over the pitch,   They started the season in stuttering style, the turnaround has been marvellous, with the same set of players next year I think magical things may occur.  This was a masterclass of what can be done if one is willing to learn, believe and apply oneself for 90 minutes - the applause are mine.   Stone Old Alleynians looked a tired force today, a team who just couldn't get going and who looked a trifle fed up at the halfway point.  The fact is, they are second in the league and you don't get there if you are shite.  They will bounce back, I think a break is needed just to recharge the batteries and find the spark that got them to where they are.  It could be a long run in for the lads but they can be proud of their efforts so far.  I am due a trip to watch them play at home, I suspect they won't be losing that one 8 - 0 - then again, this Non-League lark never fails to astound - bloody great isn't it!

Thursday 14 March 2019

WHOOSH

13th March 2019 Avro FC 5 v 0 Daisy Hill - It was touch and go if I would risk attending tonight's match due to the wicked wind that was whipping in from the west.  Anyone who knows me will realise that I am very proud of my flowing locks and after recently treating them to a Vosene and Milk Stout rinse I didn't want them blown all ways by the cruel gasps of old Sister Typhoon.  As the day ticked on the lungs from where the billows came grew tired, the blasts less industrious and so me and my good lady headed out with a spare hairnet in case of the unexpected.  I was tempted by the possibility of goals, Daisy Hill would do well to get through this unscathed and even though I do like a sackful of strikes I was hoping they would give their all and make for a touch and go encounter.  We turned up in grand time, STP Stu wasn't in attendance tonight despite being untroubled by any meteoroligical upheaval due to him being a bald bastard and having what is known as a 'waterproof head'.  I know deep down he is very jealous of my lush barnet but we remain good friends and I give him due respect for that.  Tea was a necessity, viewing points were chosen with care, I fancied a seven goal treat, the question is - would they all go the same way?

As the wind persisted, the rain insisted, the game got flowing with Avro making the early running via a couple of corners, one of which was won via their twinkle-toed No 2 (Neil Sagar) who executed some neat work in the corner and put in a decent cross.  The ball was touched toward goal, knocked out and hammered back.  The effort was blocked, Daisy Hill eventually constructed their first advance of the game with a corner won.  The sphere was hoofed in and flicked on by a rising bonse that watched the ball fall not too far from the inside of the far stick.  The visitors came again, picking out their black numbers on red shirts was virtually impossible, but after some good play a snap shot came that just squeaked off-line.  Avro were piqued by this untoward probing, they used it as a catalyst to come on strong via a swift response that saw a cross met on the volley by a close-in No 7 (Jake Pollard).  The connection was sugar sweet, the save equal to it with a cherry on top (by heck I could thrash a bit of cake).  The home team were now inspired, No 10 (Louis Potts) trespassed, lost the ball, regained it and put in a slotted pass for No 9 (Joe Beven) to latch onto.  Beven used quick feet to negotiate his marker, picked his spot and gently curved the ball around the outstretched hands of the keeper to find the far corner - it had been coming.


From this moment Daisy Hill were looking ahead at a long night of graft, they started from the kick-off with good spirit, No 8 (Danny Warburton) robbed the opposition, cut in and had no option but to release.  The shot came, it was of middling pace and without direction, the awaiting mittman gathered without fuss.  The hosts bounced back, a free-kick was borne after Beven had put in some choice labour.  The ball entered the fray, it was glanced on, the keeper somehow got in the way.  Avro marauded once more, a ball out wide was tossed high into the box.  The pestered keeper misread the trajectory, it dropped over his head and at the far post Potts appeared and managed to nudge home with the noggin and double his sides lead.  Avro were now hungry for more, Pollard was unlucky after chasing a lost cause and winning a corner only to see matters negated by a clumsy foul.  Daisy Hill now dug deep, No 11 (Hensley Mills) was working hard and trying to lead the way but Avro were always strong, alert and quick to the ball.  The hosts duly charged, No 4 (Vincent Howell) passed out to Horrocks, the pass in was accurate and troublesome, it was a shame no takers were arriving.  From here the traffic kept moving one way, No 3 (Nicholas Alexander) went on a convincing run, wormed inwards and released a low cross the keeper just held on to.  At the death Potts showed great strength, put in a quality ball that Pollard touched toward goal.  The outcome was a deflection wide and a wasted corner.  A troublesome free-kick was snuffed out and we were done.

We stayed put for the break, tired, cold and not willing to make a dash for a brew in this quite shitty weather.  Me and the good lady shared a Malteser choccy bar - it helped in a small way!

The teams came back out, the second period began with the home lads still dictating.  Potts finalised a golden move with a firm strike that lacked accuracy and then soon after a movement came from back to front and was built on hustling and good pace.  An angled kick was won, the ball went in and then out, Alexander slapped in a hefty shot - 3 - 0, pick that out!  Another shot came soon after, the same way, with the same intent - this time it went over and then Daisy Hill had a good bout of possession that saw them pass and move but find little in the way of opportunity.  The resident defense was efficient and unified, the absorption led to a break, Alexander again, this time shooting without direction.  The guests bounced back, a stunning move saw a shot produce a fine save and a follow-up get the same treatment - a great keeping moment from the host No1 (Jordan Latham).  Soon after No 16 (Jack Berry) had a dig but the home keeper could stand still and watch the ball sail high over the bar.

Entering the back stretch, Avro continued to bombard their opponents, a shot over a wandering keeper was just dealt with by the back-pedalling No 1 (Joe Leather) but the pressure remained with 2 corners causing concern.  Despite being 3 goals down the DH dudes dug in, No 4 (Ryan Farnworth) found time to shoot but dragged his effort wide and then No 10 (Ashley Stott) bust a gut, got in one or two good positions but any fortune was found wanting.  Into the last minutes, a corner for Avro was too long, it was recovered and played back in to situation 'troubling' with the mitter stretching, missing and allowing No 8 (Joe Rathbone) to slot home.  That looked to be it but in the 92nd minute the hosts swept forth, a collision took place in the box and a bonus boot given.  No 17 (Michael Norton) stepped up and clattered home and at 5 goals to none we were done.  Another solid performance on a miserable night and for me, Man of the Match, goes to Avro's No 9 (Joe Beven), a persistent pain in the proverbials, a whizzing machine of zestful desire and one of

those players that never give one a moments rest.  He worked hard tonight, a fine component in a well-oiled machine.

FINAL THOUGHT - And so Avro continue to impress with the acute, attractive and incessant brand of football that makes each and every team work hard to stay in the mix.  Again many players stood out, No 4 (Vincent Howell) was an efficient participant and No 2 (Neil Sagar) proved himself to be a stout defensive member who was unlucky to be injured tonight and whom we hope will make a speedy recovery.  The team are keeping up the pressure on the magnificent
Longridge Town and one slip by the leaders of the pack and no doubt these Oldham based 'erberts will pounce quicker than an aquatic based pervert on a unsuspecting Tadpole's todge.   Daisy Hill are having a rough time of it at the mo and are looking ready for the drop.  This, with the evidence shown tonight, is something of a puzzle, as the team have good pace, a keen willingness and a work-rate that persists up until the final peep of the whistle.  The only problem I would pick out is the urgency getting forward and the available support when in a position of promise - maybe the solution will come via a 'shit or bust set up', play a 3-4-3 set up and just ruddy well go for it in the closing weeks.  There is potential, there is an opportunity, the Donkey of Good Fortune has a dong that needs a good tug now and again - the question is - are the team brave enough to take the shaft of chance with both hands and pull off a climax of success or get kicked in the teeth trying - for me, it is worth a gamble.  Me and the missus pootled off home after the game, worn out, cold and sick of of the shitty weather - I am glad we made the effort though (as always).