LION TAMERS FROM 'ELL

28th September 2019 - Stockport Town 2 v 2 Ellesmere Town - After being forewarned of a weekend of utterly dubious weather I still headed out to Cheadle Heath Nomads and attended to the nature area before the afternoon's game.  For my troubles I had a good chat with several fine folk at the helm of the club and got a free brew - this was all positive stuff, on the negative side, the Nomads home match got cancelled,  I got absolutely saturated, wandered home in a filthy disreputable state and bust my only pair of glasses.  I muttered several words under my breath of such obscene proportions that are still not in the dictionary and are only used in Satanic circles.  To further express my irritation I kicked an old lady up the arse just for the sheer Hell of it and put a brick through the corner shop window and bagged a bottle of Stardrops and a packet of Aloe Vera Wet Wipes - I was not a happy man.  When my good lady returned home though we nipped into Stockport and a lovely lass at Spec Savers gave my bins a temporary repair and I was then dropped off at the Woodley Sports Centre to get a piece of footballing action.  A brew with chairman Rob York was very much appreciated, the Bourbons a delectable extra and we were joined by a few grand folk and idly chatted until the time for kick-off came.  It was interesting to hear that Rob was still working on his collection of body complaints and I wished him all the best in his attempts to get a prolapsed scrotum and a herniated buttock before the next home match - I had faith that he could do it and recommended he read The Norman Nobbled DIY Disability Handbook - it is the only way to real ill health.

Once outside I took my position with my mate Gareth Evans, we made predictions, once again they were proven to be ridiculously crap - never underestimate the power of 'having a go'.  The opening session of the game proved to be a balanced affair with Ellesmere's No 7 (William Wells) taking advantage of a defensive blip and forcing the keeper to turn his shot around the post.  The corner was below average which led to a Stockport break that dissolved quicker than a leper's nob in an acid bath.  No 9 (Brendon Price) for the yellow clad visitors came on next with good grit and determination leading to an opportunity to shoot.  The ball went through a crowd of players but lacked bollocks and boom - the keeper easily held.  From this early flow the hosts had a decent period of pressure with a scrimmage in the box leading to a shot that was saved in a somewhat unorthodox manner.  Soon after No 9 (Kiarno Samms) raced away on a sweet thru-ball but the guest mittman was quick to react and cleared just in time.  No 4 (Robert Lofthouse) had a long ranger next, again the visiting No 1 (Liam Cairns) did enough to push the ball away from an angled kick which, as it turned out, was nutted over without much threat.

The game was still in a state of gratifying equilibrium when The Town came again with No 7 (Max Norman) playing a pass to No 8 (Reece Skelton) who saw his distant effort palmed behind  (as an aside I once had a 'palmed behind' - I am releasing details in pamphlet format for a cost of 25 bob - watch this space).  Another kick from the corner came, no fruit of success was borne but then Ellesmere burst with spunky verve, the ball ending up airborne.  The defenders watched the descent, No 8 (Seth Ellis) for the guests had time to collect, take a touch and, to put it crudely, twat homeward.  This was a turn-up, in fact if I would have put the tip of my John Thomas in a plug socket I would have had less of a shock - cripes.

After this unexpected turn-up Ellesmere raced forth again, Wells battled like his life depended on it, the ball was threaded through to Price who shot but provided little consternation for the gloved protector.  The Town now got their act together, passed with care, prodded and probed like a pervert with a rolled up newspaper in a room full of nudists. Wells for the guests though had other ideas, he bust a gonad, flew the flank and somehow managed to let fly but only bulged the outside of the net - the effort was worth the applause anyway.  The Town responded, Samms had a turn and shot in the box, the mitter saved and then a long ball saw Price for the visitors released and have a decent chance to double the lead.  The first touch was poor, the ball ran wide, was recovered and put into the danger area where chaos reigned.  A shot was blocked, a penalty shout waved away, a corner snuffed out.  The closing stages of the half saw Samms for the hosts put a crust touch wide, No 3 (Luke Newsham) screw one off-line and then Norman have a pop with the keeper doing his duty once again  The final kick from the corner came, the header was off target - bugger this, let's have a brew.

A chat with a Nomads regular and a brew and more jaw-wagging with a couple of Ellesmere fans and the rear was re-parked with a brew in my hand and a Galaxy in my pocket.

Half 2 started with a good combative spirit, the hosts seemed to be just shading matters with some appreciable pass and play football keeping the guests alert.  A quick manoeuvre saw a minor opening become more serious as Skelton darted and hit a middling shot.  The goalie, who had done so well up until now, fell like a sack of nervous spuds (yes, potato's can get jittery) and made a hash of matters - the globe squeaked across the line - 1 - 1 it was.

Ellesmere now began to lose discipline, several eye to eye incidents came and a few pushes, several raised voices. The Town were now gaining a significant psychological advantage.  A free-kick came for the growling Lions, it was delivered with too much impetus for the incoming cranium but after a quick counter from the Ellesmere pack Stockport were looking to race away when a collision caused a fuss and the resident No 2 (Joshua Robinson) was sent marching.  Who knows what went on, whatever it was, it was certainly unnecessary.  The home team still retained the upper hand despite being down to 10 men but a long ball over the rear bods saw the yellow No 12 (Aaron Davies) nip in and just push the ball wide - now that would have been a real sickener.  

The game continued with much disjointed effort, The Lions ground out a corner, I expected little but when the ball entered the perilous zone Ellesmere were ragged and No 14 (Connor Bass) was allowed to crack one and give his team a hard-grafted 2 - 1 lead. We soon entered the last 10 minutes, Ellesmere found a renewed lease of life (Lazarus would have been proud).  Whilst the action proceeded I chatted to a nice lass who was the girlfriend of the referee.  Apparently he was on a set fee plus travelling expenses - the fact he was claiming from Land's End seemed dubious and I hope he gets caught for his financial indiscretion very soon - the fact that he was asking for an extra £50 for having cross-eyes was merely insulting - I will be writing a stiff letter to the FA very soon.

The game wound down. The guests pushed, a ball in saw No 8 (Seth Ellis) nut goalward from mere feet out - the resident keeper did mighty well to save his sides skin.  The E's remained undeterred, a few skirmishes brought little hope but a swift thrust saw a penalty claim be reduced to a free-kick right on the edge of the box.  No 11 (Tawanda Melusi) stepped up, had eyes like a shithawk zoned in on the said 'shit'.  The shot that came was firm, the keeper seemed unsighted, bang - 2 -2 - the visiting bench erupted, I am sure the manager had 3 orgasms and a brief heart flutter.  There was little time left for anyone to snatch this, the guests came once more, Melusi passed to Price, a late tackle stopped the threat dead in its tracks - is that the final whistle I hear?  Game done, a fair contest, Man of the Match goes to Ellesmere Town's No 11 (Tawanda Melusi) a tricky player to read with a sub-unorthodox style and a desire to get forth and weave at all times.  He has a good touch and, a good dig, what is lacking in pace is made up for with a footballing brain - it was a pleasure to witness.  I had a chat with chairman Rob after the game, he was not best pleased but continues to do his best by the club as per - good on ya mate.

FINAL THOUGHT - On paper Stockport Town should have won this at a canter, in reality they weren't good enough and the paper that most predictions are written on is usually best used in the karsi area.  The hosts were, in truth, during the first half, disjointed, outmuscled and not allowed to get into any flow - they were dragged into a mire of combative kicking and came off second best.  This was a surprise but consistency is a commodity many seek but rarely find and the home pack need to get a grip on this elusive element if they want to make any great shakes in this highly competitive league.  Ellesmere Town were better value today than when I had last seen them when they were pretty ruddy poor and looked to have a distinct lack of ideas.  Today they were a highly promising unit with some stocky battlers in the mix, a few work horses and one or two mercurial movers who seemed to have the ability to turn a game around and give their team a ray of hope.  The only questions I would pose to the travelling pack are:- can they keep their heads when in a close, touch and go contest and can they build up a good head of steam to maintain their position in this quality laden league?  I am hoping the resurgence continues, I am planning to get down their end before the season is over - I am not saying how much progress they will have made by then but my fingers are crossed it will all be positive.  Thanks to all for a good day out, and of course chairman Rob for his good company and excellent efforts - these doofers need noting, without em' many would be bored shitless on a Saturday afternoon - think on!

BASE TO APEX - ALL SQUARE

24th September 2019 - New Mills 3 v 3 West Didsbury and Chorlton -  In the lower reaches of the North West Counties League First Division South one will find New Mills FC with 8 games played and only 2 points on the board.  They are having a right old struggle this time around but since I last saw them have had a managerial change and seem to be suggesting some promise (so I hear).  West Didsbury & Chorlton on the other hand are flying high, were my pre-season tip to go up as champions (well that's them buggered then) and look to be playing well and worthy of their 4th position with 19 points collected.  So, as any statistician will tell you, after various calculations and scanning graphs, the outcome tonight will be an away win.  Taking heed of this situation I decided to place a wager with Fine Fettle Frank the unorthodox Turf Accountant who offered me a return of 3 ironing boards and a day trip to Plumpton for a mere bet of 3 knitted cardigans and a pair of Derek Nimmo Y-fronts. I scanned a few charity shops, got lucky and placed my bet - I was looking forward to wearing some neatly pressed clothes whilst strolling around the East Sussex Parish very soon.  Myself and my good lady arrived in plenty of time for kick-off and purchased a cuppa, took a seat and were joined by a grand couple we know who are regulars at this ground (and several others).  We all made predictions, as it turned out, we were all wrong but none of us were complaining come the end of a fine Non-League game.

As soon as the whistle blew the action was high with the guest's No 9 (James Cottee) working room, walloping hard and finding the net in no uncertain terms. It was a pure, quality strike, it was an outrageously great way to start the game and a serious dick kick for the hosts.  From this shock the hosts got a foothold in the game with their first attack finalised by No 9 (Michael Norton) who let fly but pulled his shot wide.  A corner came the same way moments later, No 5 (Adam Jones) rose but his glabrous bonse failed to get enough purchase on the ball.  In return WDC progressed with No 8 (Lee Gavin) exposing quick feet and getting tumbled for his exhibitionism.  A free-kick was given, the result was utter bilge.  An angled kick came at the opposite end of the pitch next, in and out the ball went before No 7 (Ryan Shenton) cracked one that wasn't too far off the target zone.

New Mills continued to work with determined gumption, they were certainly a far better prospect than when I last saw them.  A long free-kick followed, it needed tipping over with the corner leading to product 'nothing'.  The Dids broke, No 4 (Callum Jones) weaved along the wing, played in a low ball that was touched on allowing Gavin to have a pop between a melee of players.  The shot had fair pace, the accuracy however was lacking - over!  A moment of bog-basic long ball football followed, WDC hoofed long, a defensive header was missed and Cottee was in.  The keeper advanced to try and rescue the situation, the attacker negotiated the stickman, was forced wide but still got his shot away - a groan went up when the side-netting was hit - now that was a real close-call.

The game was very well balanced now, Cottee had a flick header over the bar for the guests and then New Mills were forced to make a substitution as Dennis Sherriff was taken off.  The half continued with very little threat until New Mills won a corner in as quite dangerous position with very little time left of the first 45.  The ball was disappointingly thumped into the wall, a corner was the outcome.  I expected little, No 12 (Benito Lowe) rose and put me right, the ball left bonse and found the net at just the right moment, 1 - 1 and 45 minutes done.  One last shot came from No 7 (Ryan Shenton) after a brace of beefed up tackles saw the ball squirt loose.  The strike was solid, a gasp of anticipation came, the low drive was mere inches wide – the half was done.

For half time we had a natter and a bit of chocolate - all predictions were still on and my wager was looking good, I could almost taste the toxic air of Plumpton - ooh the excitement.

As was the case in the first period the WDC pack were out quickest with Jones a real thorn in the side.  First he had a header go just wide and then a threaded pass was played and only just intercepted at the last much to the relief of the scampering home crew.  The fiery passion radiated by the travelers was too much for one of the New Mill's players who had to have a session in the sin-bin to cool his rising ill-temper.  WDC's Cottee had a crack soon after, just too high and then dug out another effort that was blocked by the determined No 9 (Michael Norton) with the follow-up curler by Jones neatly saved by a partially unsighted mittman.  Another blazing shot came from the mounting pressure, Norton's defensive header was outstanding and several more efforts failed to find the back of the mesh.  New Mills were relieved when they were back up to 11 players but it made no difference to the flow of the game.  West Dids came on, the next goal looked to be theirs but The Millers broke and sent a warning shot across the boughs with Jones suggesting that this game was far from over.  The hosts came again, Lowe was out wide and wormed in a fine low ball that Shenton collected and thwacked with great purpose.  The strike was superbly crisp, the keeper was beaten, 2 - 1 it was, somehow The Millers had defied the odds and turned this one on its head.

From here the visitors played with manic urgency. The hosts played with a resolute focus and refused to get ruffled.  A free-kick needed attention though as The West progressed with undying effort.  The ball was delivered, a flick on followed, No 5 (Christopher Middleton) gathered, turned and shot first time,  the globe hugged the verdant carpet, the keeper stretched out a mitt but all to no avail as the bottom corner was penetrated - by crikey man, this was a very good session of soccerised entertainment.  West Didsbury & Chorlton were far from happy at this point though they wanted the full 3 point prize and summoned a rapid attack that needed a last ditch tackle to kill the danger.  A penalty shout was waved away by the lass in the middle, the action remained hectic.

A midfield contest now ensued, within the mix WDC's No 16 (Dylan Moloney) found himself in possession in a situation best described as 'average'.  The fact he chanced a shot from distance seemed ludicrous, the fact that the ball was propelled with decent pace, bounced once just before the keeper seemed a one in a million chance but that chance bore fruit and the player looked over the moon.  It was a cruel blow, after all the hard work to get back in this one the hosts were trailing once more but full credit for their opponents and their sharp work and perpetual dynamism.  

The entrails of the game were now slopped down before all to examine, an autopsy was looming, what would be the final verdict.  After the home keeper produced an awful kick Cottee for The West had a chance to seal matters but the back-pedaling No 1 (Alexander Fowell) recovered the situation and pushed the shot onto the upright.  We now entered the last minute with very little to be added on, Lowe forced himself forth for the trailing team, he entered the box and was clumsily bumbled to the floor - the decision was immediate 'penalty'.  Shelton stepped up, waited whilst order was restored and shook off any pressure and buried the ball to get this 6 goal thriller back to parity - what a turn up for the books of unpredictability and what a way to shit on my hopes of predicting the score.  One last punt at goal was had by the hosts but the shot was skied and then we were done and left to reflect. This had been a beauty, there were some outstanding efforts but I thought New' Mill's No 9 (Michael Norton) was exemplary and displayed all of his experience all over the pitch and reiterated that a good footballing brain can help win the day and set an example to all his teammates on a night that they were really up against it.  Cracking effort.  There may not be any champagne awarded to the player of my choice but I am sure I can send a tea-bag through the post.

FINAL THOUGHT -  I am so glad I made this game, it was a night of swinging fortunes with the pendulous nob of Old Man Fortune never resting in one specific place.  Both teams worked mighty hard and were well matched throughout - a fascinating contest that was for sure and one that no punter can have any complaints with.  New Mills are rejuvenated, they are destined to end the season in mid-table rather than the probable arse end where they seemed destined for only a few weeks ago.  Tonight they played with a great coherence and more than held their own against a team I think will definitely be promoted.  Any teams coming to the Church Lane ground had now better watch out, it will be one tough contest that now goes without saying.   West Didsbury and Chorlton are a decent unit, they always give good value and despite last year's shock relegation they do look set to bounce back like the eternal rubber ball.  They have an abundance of options, a certain pace within the ranks and most importantly...a good solid fan base.  At this level having frequent good turn-outs and lots of backing on the touchline can make so much difference - this lot will do just fine although the latest minor blips do need correcting as soon as before a certain rot sets in.  And that is that, I have seen 9 matches this month and am averaging 5 goals a game, I never have any complaints, I have one game left for September - anything less than 5 goals and I will be not happy, in fact I will not be an happy bunny stood in overly creased clothes with no day release ticket to Plumpton - and that real does stick in the craw.

SAFFRON SPICE WINS THE DAY

21st September 2019 - Tower Hamlets 2 v 3 Saffron Walden Town - Today we were dropping our dancing daughter back down London (Stratford to be exact) where she will reside in a rented house with her mate and start her 3rd year at University. She is doing a Dance Degree and good on her, I have never advanced from doing a pissed up pogo and even though I won ‘Come Dancing’ back in 1972 that was due to me blackmailing Angela Rippon after I caught her pinching Some Vesta Curries from her local Safeway Store. Of course after dropping off and unpacking some shopping was needed and I only felt it my Christian duty to offer to be out of the way rather than hinder the spending process.  I was duly dropped off at the Mile End Stadium for a bit of footy. I chatted with a few peeps from the 20+ crowd and watched the tangerine clad hosts take to the pitch with their blue attired opponents. This was an Essex Senior League fixture - I expected goals, I got 5 - this is how they came, who got them and what went on in between.

No sooner had the globe got rotating and a surge of orange saw the hosts squirt juices of promise.  No 11 (Deese Kasinga) displayed good skill on the end of a cross, let go a shot that was outstandingly blocked by the guest No 5 (Scott Pethers).  Next and the home No 7 (Yoan Edoukou), propelled by lengthy pins, flew the flank, executed several step-overs before ripping forth a howitzer from all of 25 yards.  The ball flew through the clement air, the goalkeeper began to reach outwards, it was all too late as the ball busted the net and got this game of in ruddy fantastic style.  From here the guests got into gear, burst forward but were caught on the hop with a long kick that saw a defender and their goalkeeper get their knickers in knots and nearly gift a goal to the leading team.  Somehow matters were dealt with the the danger was quelled.

Attacks now came in quick succession at each end, the Saffron Walden squad were caught offside on a couple of occasions, No 9 (Suaibo Balde) nearly threaded a colleague through but was thwarted by some quick thinking and then No 10 (Jack Leachman) produced some choice work in the corner for the visitors, hoofed in a great cross that No 11 (Stuart Collins) struck with venom that absolutely stung the underside of the bar.  The globe bounced outward and was somewhow cleared - what a hectic period this was.  The Walden lads came once more but Kasinga for the oranges read the situation, led a break after robbing No 4 (Ross Adams) and put the ball into situation 'problematic'.  A pass was made, Edoukou was the recipient, dug out a low shot - 2 - 0 it was, this was a surprise considering the league position but in truth, it was a thoroughly deserved lead.  

The Tangerine Towers were now very much in control, another attack came, Edoukou played to No 2 (Benas Vaibada) who popped one to the back post that No 4 (Anthony Folkes) did well to connect with but only managed to push wide.  The excitement levels remained elevated, the Saffrons came down the outside, a cross followed, No 10 (Jack Leachman) had a crack and rattled the bar in no uncertain terms.  The ball came back out, the return shot was untamed and way over.  No 7 (Gavin Cockman) had a dig soon after working space in the tightest of spots but only finding the meat of the mittman's carcass.  No sooner had this latest onslaught taken place than we were down the other end of the pitch, No 10 (Ryan Murad) struck one, the goalie blocked, Balde followed up, another save came, what a fine value match this was.

The run down to the break, a Ring Necked Parakeet flew by, my arse was a trifle numb, I could thrash a cup of cha.  A drinks break saw the game move on, Murad for the hosts was caught dawdling in the rear, Adams for the traveller's needed no second invitation, pilfered, picked his spot and put the ball into the net - game back on.  The latter stages of this first period became fractured, a crap free-kick, an injury delay and a few dubious refereeing decisions didn't help matters.  A touch of temperamental thermality invaded proceedings, one last flashing cross for the visitors came, Leachman bravely put a bonse on the searing sphere but the pace was too much and the ball went wide.  Half-time came, I think there can be no complaints.

Tea and a chat with a couple of decent peeps was had, all seemed to be enjoying this one, including the lady behind me who was supporting the away pack and seemed quite animated by all that was transpiring.  She was either intrigued, passionate or on the wrong medication - you gotta watch the doctors these days, I was one prescribed a lotion for nipple cramps and ended up with two black knackers and a rash on my right buttock - and all the day before I visited the nudist camp on Clacton - I was not a happy man.

Part 2, Balde for the hosts was an instant menace, a corner was put in and cleared and then a shot had that the mittman did well to save.  The travellers reacted, a cross, a corner, a throw in and another cross.  The latter foot to ball contact was a cross by No 2 (Spike Bell), the keeper was caught with his conkers dangling in the Land of Indecision, the ball ended up in the night - this one was going to the wire folks.  The peckers of the born-again side were now trembling with hope, a cross came, Cockman darted in and had an effort just off-line.  A free-kick soon followed, the No 9 (Scarborough) got his cranium on the ball - the contact was too solid, the keeper was happy to see it fly over the horizontal.

Tower Hamlets now found a second wind, Saffron Walden Town though were maintaining their shape and not making things easy.  The home No 15 (Ezra Ndukuba) eventually broke the defensive shackles and won a corner through nothing more than great desire.  The angled globe entered the box, the lack of venom made it too easy for the opposition who broke, surged and won a bonus boot.  The free-kick came, the home keeper jumped and missed his punch, he was lucky to see the ball drop wide.  Again the Hamleteers were found to be arsing in defence, Leachman robbed and released, the shot had little punch, the hosts breathed a sigh of relief as things could have been a whole lot worse.  A corner came, the ball was played into the near post, the keeper punched with a lack of conviction and the end result was an own goal - what a blooper, what a turn-around, what a tragedy!  Sometime luck shits with spite on an unsuspecting victim, today the man between the sticks was stuck beneath the karma-cruel crappery.

The home team now made 2 subs and hoped to generate new life into proceedings, a Grey Squirrel was totally unconcerned and nipped on the pitch to bury a few nuts - t'was a shame as he was missing a good game.  Leachman had another pop but couldn't find the target, No 12 (Brandon Daniel) at the other end did well to elongate his neck and get a header in that No 6 (Jamie Riley) nutted over and into safety. The ensuing corner was collected, thwacked long with Scarborough hitting first time, the block that came was resounding.  Back the other way we went, the hosts were urgent but after several neat passes around the box no-one was willing to pull the trigger and another chance went begging.

The final throes, like the first half, were spasmodic, slightly unruly and lacked discipline.  All the while Saffron Walden Town had one eye on the clock and looked to see things out to the final whistle.  This they did with a certain ease, the game had been grabbed from a situation, that at one time, looking to be almost impossible.  For me, a key component in the renaissance and Man of the Match was Saffron Walden Town's No 2 (Spike Bell) who worked with tenacity, remained calm when it mattered, played many sensible balls and who caused various problems for the opposition with various runs and probing balls. This had been a decent sting in a decent match, next time I am down this way I hope to catch these teams again.

FINAL THOUGHT -  I had enjoyed my foray into the realms of the Essex Senior League and thought this was a very competitive game with many quality players on show.  Today the hosts played in a Jekyll and Hyde manner and at times produced some very effective liquid football that smoothly flowed, saw many choice passes made and indicated a great awareness between the players.  At other times though they played too deep, just lacked an overall discipline and couldn't string a pass together if their lives depended on it.  The key is just getting the consistency right, this will come on the training ground and if sorted, they will be a team to be reckoned with.  What I saw of Saffron Walden Town today was a team start slowly, seem out of sync and somehow get their rears in gear, dig in deep and grind out a win even when their chips were right down the U-bend and ready to be flushed to the outer realms of 'Shitsville'.  The sign of a good team is to win when not playing at their best and their position in the league seems to be no fluke.  Thanks to these two units I now have another league to check on week in, week out - in my busy life this is a twang in the testes but I am not complaining - honest and I hope I will be back.  Cheers to all for a good 90 minute session of raw and real football - you really can't beat it.

SHACK ATTACK

17th September 2019 - Irlam FC 4 v 0 Skelmersdale United - A week is a long time in the life of Fungalpunk, I have crammed a lot in and am now fagged.  2 days out shrooming, 2 footy matches, 5 days of work, another 300+ wildlife records input and more CD reviews worked upon - it had been a hectic schedule as per.  I don't blame my busy life for the tiredness though, I blame a pair of Frank Wank's Arousal Shorts that I purchased last week and have worn ever since (inside and out of course).  The vibrating front pouch and rear rectal tickler have had me buckling at the knees on several occasions but I bore it like a man and after 475 orgasms, a brief stint on a defibrillator and a chat with my local GP, I am still hear to tell the tale and warn all and sundry to stick to touchline football for their thrills.  Away from this insight into capricious experimentation and the match tonight promised goals, I had seen both teams of late and reckoned this one looked set to give a 5 strike haul.  I nattered with a few familiars, they seemed to reckon it could be a good one with the hosts needing to bounce back from last weeks defeat and Skelmersdale also having to do the same after a recent cup exit.  Tea and chocolate were had and dealt with, John D accompanied us again, the usual positions chosen, whoosh!

Irlam were immediately springing from the traps, No 9 (Jordan Buckley) was on the end of a long ball and hit it feebly wide, it could have been a replica of last week when the goal was found within the first minute of play.  Skem made sure this early scare was noted and started to pass and play with care but Irlam contained all possible threat and came on strong with No 2 (Andre Stewart) always willing to advance and No 7 (Liam Pollitt) always a viable option.  A ball over the top was eventually played, No 10 (Jordan Icely) latched onto it and shot first time, the keeper's legs were sure with a follow-up attempt too tame to be of any concern.  Pollitt had a dig moments later, it was a fierce lash but had no direction and then both teams acquired an angled kick but threat was nowhere to be seen and we headed further into this close encounter wondering where the first goal was coming from.

Back and forth the action went, each time pushing and parrying but with no decisive stroke made.  By this stage the hosts were growing in stature and just gaining the territorial stronghold. They won a free-kick next, in it came with the mitter having to parry away.  Pollitt jumped to attention, worked a miniscule snippet of space and thumped toward goal with the framework struck.  The ball was loose, Pollitt put a cross back in, Icely had a free-header and looked set to bury - the end result was not even close.

This moment was a catalyst for the guests, they cultivated a few onslaughts.  No 3 (Alex Griffiths) sent forth a whistling cross, alas No 10 (Einar White) was an inch too short and lost a layer of skin off his scalp rather than nutting the ball goalward.  Into the last 10 minutes of the opening half we went, Irlam came again, No 11 (Jordan Southworth) had a half-volley that was reckless and then No 8 (Callum Nicholas) knocked an outrageously accurate ball out wide that was dinked and crossed which Iceley collected, mainatined his composure and coolly slotted home to break the quite stubborn deadlock.  It was a fine goal and got Skem now working with greater gusto.  White tried a long range looper that was closer than first imagined and then No 11 (Liam Wood) lashed a crumper that took a deflection the keeper did outstandingly well to tip over.  The corner came, nowt was doing, a free-kick the same way was blocked and we were done and dusted and ready for a half-time brew.

The tea went down a treat, as did a chat with the ever-amiable Matty Kay who is a font of footballing knowledge and is looking forward to this weekends cup-tie against York City where his young un's will be Irlam's mascots.  Crikey, I hope the nerve tablets are ready - that is gonna be some occasion.  Alas I can't make this fascinating tie but will be hoping the hosts do themselves proud.  

Back to our positions, half two began with Skem industrious and striving to get back into the swing of things.  No 8 (Matthew Coughlan) had a header that was well held by the goalie and a shot that was more than a little hopeful that failed to find the strike zone.  Again the visitors pushed, Irlam looked happy to absorb and try and counter which they did with No 9 Buckley breaking and having a wallop across the face of goal that just needed a crucial touch, alas it never came.  No 3 (Dylan Allan-Meredith) now flew the flank, the threaded ball was choice, the guest keeper just made it to quell the danger.  Several more shots came at the Skem goal, blocks were made, a few efforts were off line, the hosts were hungry and looking to grab this game by the globes and squeeze out a killer move.  

From here the visiting team applied resistance and a pressure of their own, White put in some excellent work, a cross found Wood who touched back for No 7 (Charlie Kelley) to clatter...over the globe flew.  Irlam responded, Southworth put forth a quality pass for Buckley to chase, the keeper was quicker and cleared with a long ball finding Kelly who leathered first time and wobbled the vertical.  Again a counterpunch was had, the resident pack progressed, Southworth had a chance snuffed out and then came again, negotiated his marker and with controlled precision released and found the bottom corner - 2 - 0 - it was a decent goal and provided a cushion very much needed.

The next action saw No 15 (Tom Croughan) for Skelmersdale put in some considerable effort, his choice work ended with a cross to No 9 (John Keatley) who failed to hit the target - poor would be an understatement.  Half-chances continued to come at each end and as the guests pressed with perspired ardour Southworth for Irlam collected at the rear, knocked the ball forth to Buckley who swivelled on a sixpence just in the opposing half, gained a yard on his marker and ran like a rectally relaxed vicar with a dose of the shits.  The long legs galloped, a further defensive bod was bewildered by a series of pseudo step-overs, an extra segment of space was earned and 'crack' - ball buried, what a strike, thank you and goodnight.

As per, from this kick to the proverbials the guests reacted, as per it was a decent move ending with an effort that lacked true conviction - it is surely an area that needs immediate attention.  As we entered the final 10 minutes Irlam changed a few of their personnel a corner was won.  The ball was knocked in with mid-pace, the defense were dozing and No 5 (Ryan Ledson) was allowed to roam inward and nut home to bring up the fourth goal and make this one appear as an easy night's work.  The match wound down, Skem had one last attempt at grabbing a consolation but once again the apex of the move was far from sharp.  When the referee blew his whistle I was left to consider the Man of the Match in the chilled night air and opted for Irlam's No 4 (Charlie Doyle) who kept a low but effective profile, was consistent throughout, worked with undying effort and was a hustling and bustling component in an outfit that are really doing well for themselves with a future looking rosier than the arse-cheeks of a well-spanked Pope.  I headed home after the match slightly chilled but at the same time warmed by the decent football going on down Silver Street way.

FINAL THOUGHT -  Prior to this game I predicted a 4 - 1 win to Irlam, I am claiming this a minor victory as it is the closest I have come to a right result for a ruddy good while.  The game itself was closer than the scoreline suggests but Irlam always seemed to have the sharper edge and looked most likely to score - which they did, on 4 occasions in case you have dozed off or need to get off to the lavatory.  I like the home side and enjoy my visits to their ground.  They always try to play football, have a good strength in depth and even though they had a distraction with a big forthcoming cup-tie they put in a good stint tonight which says more than what you think.  Skelmersdale may be in for a tough season, they need to sharpen up on the attacking front or they will pay a very severe price.  They do have many hard working players, one or two who seem on the brink of busting the net several times over - I think the next 3 matches could be highly crucial - I will be checking the scores each and every week and hopefully watching this unit again very soon.

BLIP, BOOM - OH BOLLOCKS

13th September 2019 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 1 v 2 Vauxhall Motors - Another local affair today after overbooking myself and being stretched to the maximum.  Some quick maintenance of the wildlife area at the ground was had  early doors before I had a stroll at a local Autumn Fair and recorded some darn fine insects and chatted with some lovely folk.  Eventually my good lady dropped me off at the ground and I nattered with more grand peeps whilst slurping a much needed brew.  Mark Torbitt and his son joined me for a wag of the mandible and good company they were.  Mark was surprisingly chipper even though he had been up in court this week due to my last report exposing him as an Eamon Andrews impersonator.  He was fined 5 shekels, told to pull himself together and sent on a Mike Yarwood self appraisement course - I hope it helps although I couldn't help but notice that Mark had a big red book in his rucksack and his son was talking in an Irish accent.  After receiving teamsheets from Mr Gibbons the club chairman and finishing my cha' I got my trusted pen and paper ready and prepared to scrawl - please feel free to read the following text at your leisure be it in a state of undress, complete drunkness or with a torch, under the bedclothes late at night - you may be surprised at the sensations it can cause.

The greatest animation came from the hosts early on with a greater desire shown than when Casanova stumbled on a couple of woodland jazz mags.  Some good midfield industry was taking place with a few robust encounters and one or two potential breaks only just snuffed out at the last.  Both teams communicated well, the Nomads offered up several long balls to try and summon a chance at a shot but each time they fell just short of the killer mark.  Eventually the guests got up to speed, a free-kick was won, delivered by No 6 (Joseph Heath), touched back by No 8 (Glen Rule) with the ball perfectly intercepted by an alert defender and killing all peril in one clinical swoop.  Another free-kick was dealt with, No 8 (Daniel Browne) for the Nomads was being a troublesome menace and building up a noticeable lather and as per No 7 (Kieren Herbert) was dashing like a Dalmation with a wasp on it's dick.  The latter player was nobbled whilst on a run, a free-kick followed via the tootsies of No 11 (George Blackwell) the accuracy was bang on the mark but the defending was of equal quality.  

The next action saw the host No 9 (Richard Tindall) bust a bollock, running back, winning a ball from nothing, putting in a quick release that saw the recipient just get caught offside - unlucky.  Both teams were staying disciplined in defence and held their shape, the VM machine came on, probed with keen attention and won a free-kick out on the wing - the outcome was bilge.  The Nomads were slowly getting suffocated, the guests were pushing the ball around the park and biding their time.  The Nomads were refusing to sit back, a flourish and a rally, a great run and a nut goalward saw the visiting keeper stretch and palm away.  A return shot was scuffed, cleared off the line with a throw-in following.  The ball came back in play, was knocked back into the box with pinpoint accuracy.  Tindall rose, flicked on and found the net - it was a neat take, it was just a pity the liner had eyes like a shithouse rat and saw an infringement.

From here the Vauxhall Motors pack poured on some molten pressure, the hosts showed a strong resilience whilst the crosses came and thru-balls caused incessant concern.  It all became to much for one bod, a rushed back pass was played, No 9 (Karl Noon) of the opposition read it well, nipped in, negotiated the advancing keeper and slotted home - what a gift of a goal, and with Christmas still many weeks away.  The hosts, although dejected forced themselves on, Blackwell put in a lovely curling free-kick the mitter did well to push round the post low to his left.  The corner that followed was too near the keeper who reached, caught and hoofed down field.  Before the half-time whistle Rule for Vauxhall could have doubled the lead, Cheadle Heath Nomads survived, I think we all needed a break.

I stayed put on my lonesome for the break, had a drink, a bag of crisp and contemplated my navel.  Andy Gray (Nomads Manager) came over for a natter, he still believed there was life in this game yet and his team weren't done - you can't fault optimism and in truth it was indeed true - this was a close contest with one blunder the deciding factor so far - as Andy returned to the dug-out I picked up my pen and paper, drew a picture of a partially aroused frog and prepared to scribble my notes.  Just to add, team Manager Andy has been removing a toe every time The Nomads have been beat this season, the hobble is not an attempt at benefit fraud but a reflection of how the results are going.  If he loses all lower digits its the fingers next and if they go - cripes, my eyes are watering at the thought of it!

Part 2 of the FA Vase fiasco, The Motormen were out sharply, a ball went down the flank that needed clearing.  The hoof away was weaker than the urine of a stickleback (and that's weak) and was played straight back.  No 11 (Michael Burkey) was on it, wasted no time in letting fly - wallop, 0 - 2 - the perfect start for the guests, a real horror show for the hosts.  Now at 2 goals down the resident team were kept on the back foot, Noon poached inward and was denied by a quick thinking keeper, No 7 (Joe Brandon) and Burkey linked up, a panic hoof behind gave away a corner.  The angled punt came, Rule struck on the volley, a passing plane was nearly grounded by the untamed shot.  The Nomads were severely off the pace, composure and some luck was the order of the day.

A scrappy period ensued, quality had done a bunk, fluidity had followed suit and consistency said 'fuck it' and went for a smoke.  From nothing the home No 1 (Aaron Tyrer) belted the ball the full length of the pitch, Tindall battled and almost pinched a freebie, it was a classic example of why a team should chase everything and never give in.  From a Vauxhall corner Cheadle broke and once again Tindall nearly snuck in, he was leading from the front, surely a chance was just around the corner.  Another break saw Herbert receive and look to bury - a block was made, the follow up dealt with and then Vauxhall's Brandon was on a mad foray, the defensive marshalling was outstanding, the 3rd and killer goal was denied.

Into the last 20 minutes we marched, Blackwell was working away, put in a great cross for the Nomadic No 12 (Ashley Harrison) to deal with.  This robust target man is always up for a challenge, his head was put on ball but the attempt was partially blocked.  The free globe was hunted, a scruffy collision came, the sphere was bumbled into the net, the substitute was having it - they all count, new life had been breathed back into this one.

To the finale we hurtled, The hosts continued the honest response, balls came forth, Harrison was nearly in again, the visitors owed their keeper a big thanks for staying awake and snuffing out the chance.  Touchline verbals now came, Brandon for Vauxhall wasn't listening and darted like a demon, put in a sharp cross that Heath hit on the half volley and clattered the post.  The finish to the game was frantic, The Nomads pressed but were flustered and rushed and with one final corner were caught napping in an offside position that was duly labelled 'lazy'.  The referee blew for full time, Man of the Match was a tough one, I was particularly taken by the Vauxhall Motors No 6 (Joseph Heath) who was a rigid component in a very unforgiving defence and whilst monitoring all that was going on around him, he kept disciplined and read the game well.  I stolled away from the ground wondering when The Nomads were going to break this shitty run and how far The Motormen can go in all competitions this year.

FINAL THOUGHT -  The game had been a good un' today, highly competitive with the end result decided by an early blip that put the hosts on the back foot.  Cheadle Heath Nomads are playing some good football, some shit football, some average football all within one 90 minute package that offers hope and is frequently ending in despair.  All they need is to keep the flow, when found, on the up and make sure consistency in maintained throughout each and every match.  I feel they are getting closer, a few lucky touches and the season will turn around - they certainly worked hard enough today and communicated better at times that will undoubtedly put them in good stead.  Vauxhall Motors are a team who seem to play within themselves, do nothing outrageous, avoid flamboyance and go through the motions whilst getting the job done.  They are a well-drilled team, they must be one of the favourites to advance further in all areas but, and a right big heaving 'but' at that - the season is a long one and very unforgiving - they are not the finished product yet and will have to earn their points the hard way and make sure they do not rest on their laurels - the run up to the winter months is a testing time and this is a tough league -just prior to Christmas things will be a little clearer (unless one is hammering the sherry).