BROMIDE FOOTBALL

22nd April 2019 - Cheadle Town 0 v 2 Cheadle Heath Nomads - The Bank Holiday is nearly done - the weather had been capricious an indicative of changing times very much for the worse.  We had cracked on, the lass had been home from Uni and we had been here and there, watched a footy match and indulged in a few films.  We waved her off at Platform Zero today, came home and sorted a few chores.  I had some moths in the fridge, they were duly identified and set free along with a couple of Nomad Bees that need further scrutiny.  At 12.30pm prompt we arrived at this local ground to feast our peepers on a game played for bragging rights and precious pride.  My good lady joined me today and we met up with STP Stu and had a good chat to the charming folk who are at the helm of The Nomads venture.  A few other fine folk were in attendance (John D take a bow and Abbey Hey Pete was eventually located) all looking forward to a solid game, played with high energy and with goals a plenty.  Our chosen hot-spot today was in the sun, the weather is set to change so you gotta get what solar goodness you can, when you can (unless of course you go for the Ronseal option like George Hamilton).  Eventually the sun-kissed turf was blessed with the two competing armies, there are very few games left of the season left, it would be good to finalise matters on a wham bam high point.

As perspiration began to flow, the ogled ball was hoofed with ardour, the first suggestion of excitement came via a half-chance for The Town's No 9 (Desley Osakwe) with the resultant punt not even close and setting a standard for the day very rarely bettered.  After a bout of cranial tennis the guests had a chance of their own with No 9 (Richard Tindall) touching a sweet ball to No 10 (Leon Grandison) who missed his first chance to shoot and then had a dig that was reliably saved.  A corner followed, the ball went in, and out and the hosts tried to break but all to no avail.  Many clumsy tackles impeded the flow further, final balls were void of quality.  Two mis-kicks came from opposing players with a corner to the Nomads akin to a letter forced through one's letterbox by a fingerless postman - an awful delivery for sure.  The match became stagnant, a Buzzard flew over head, seemed to consider hanging around but carried on with its journey in the hope of finding something more rewarding - it was one of those days it seemed.  

Huff and puff, push and shove - the chance of ever sporting a footballing erection was long gone and thought of going home and reading 'The Erotic Tales of Arnold Ridley' seemed highly tempting.  My wife basked in the sun, into the last ten of the half we went, a passing Nomads fan described the half as 'shite', he seemed to have mastered the art of understatement.  Suddenly, the quiet spell was broken, a lengthy ball was delivered, at the apex of hope was No 11 (Stephen Kirby) who placed a cross onto the bonse of No 7 (Callum Collinson).  The way the game had gone I expected the ball to deflate on contact and the player to set up an in-box discussion on the political sway of the Pythagoras theory.  Not so - the ball left the flesh of the noggin and thundered into the net - it was too much for some, one fellow reeled with the overload of excitement and it needed several officials to drain his rather inflated dongler - wow  - surely this goal was the start of something noteable.  The Town now came alive, a free-kick after much mither was rubbish and Grandison tried an audacious shot from the half-way line that was equally poor - the half time whistle was a welcome relief.

We wandered for a drink at half-time and took up new positions in the elevated stand.  From ye Gods we expected something different for the second period - a touch paper had been lit, surely it would lead to a conflagration to remember - alas I asked to much.

The Nomads were out sharply for half two, good pressure was applied without any end result.  A bit like squeezing a boil on an elephants arse - a lot of straining and squeezing but no prize pus for all the effort!  Cheadle Town gained a glimpse of joy via persistent endeavour and the Nomads nearly broke but an off-side rule extinguished any flames of promise.  Eventually the hosts worked through, a dubious free-kick was granted, No 8 (Callum Knight) received, made a good run that was forced out wide but still put in a low cut-back.  The home No 12 (Shaquille Lewys) dashed in, was mere feet out and only had to nail the globe - how the Hell he put it over the bar is beyond me.  Soon after this the home No 10 (Rhys Clooney) burst through, he released but the Nomadic No 1 (Aaron Tyrer) spread himself and duly saved with his plates of meat.  The corner that followed was utterly dreadful!

The visiting tribe dug deep, No 8 (Kieran Herbert) knocked a choice touch, Grandison dashed down the flank and sent on a daisy cutting ball that Tindall latched onto but put shy of the stick.  Another long ball came the same way, No 6 (Phillip Yuille) sent in a looper but Collinson was denied on the line by some great defending.  The hosts were still in this with No 5 (James Dunn) at the back doing a grand job and Clooney up front always a danger.  A crack on goal did eventually come with Knight sending forth a good daisy-beheader that was closer than the rather relaxed goalkeeper seemed to think - now that could have been interesting.  Onwards the game staggered like a one-legged Oliver Reed look-a-like on a bender.  A hold-up was followed by a pop from Grandison that nearly caught the home keeper with his conkers cold and suddenly we were into extra time.  With these last throws Cheadle Town had two golden chances - the first via Osakwe who turned, passed to No 6 (Oliver Hatfield-Banton) who drilled in a shot that was too straight for its own good.   The second opportunity arose through No 15 (Joseph Neild) who delivered a great cross that Clooney pounced on but could only place into the keeper's arms.  Time was now running out when a home back pass was botched up by the keeper and No 11 (Stephen Kirby) duly gathered.   Negotiations around impeding players were carried out, cool was kept and the player in possession stroked home, doubled his sides lead and made sure the 3 points were going down the road.  The game had been one to not get too aroused by with very little in it, Cheadle Heath Nomads deserved it and man of the Match for me goes to No 8 (Kieran Herbert) for running himself into the ground, providing a spark and maintaining a high work rate until he was substituted.  Farewells to some fine folk were had, I was set a challenge to make the report interesting - polishing turds is indeed a tricky tasks and I hope my tapping digits don't stink too much.

FINAL THOUGHT - This match like the disappointment a hormone riddled teenager feels when he forks out a wedge for a cellophane wrapped copy of 'Tits and Todgers' only to find that all the vital parts of the anatomy are blacked out.  It was like the time I went on a blindfolded shoplifting spree to find I had been arrested for pinching 3 chunky knit cardigans and a pair of incontinence pants - a very disappointing experience.  Both teams tried to get going but it just wouldn't happen today - the reason being perhaps tired legs, the unexpected thermals, the baked pitch, a clash of styles.  Sometimes these things are unaccountable and you just have to suck it and see.  Come what may though, for the summer months Cheadle Heath Nomads are the kings of the home turf and can carry the winning impetus into the new season.  In fact if they win their last match they have had a good flourish and sometimes winning ugly is an indicator of a darn fine squad.  Cheadle Town just weren't on it today and have stuttered through the season never hitting the ground running.  They have had a few zeniths (a 13 goal game one such pinnacle) but consistency is lacking, it is a key ingredient to work upon before season 2019/2020 comes.  In the meantime I apologise if I have failed to raise any goosebumps during this account - sometimes I know when I am beat but..better to be out there supporting than not - think on!