THE VOYAGE OF THE VASE

20th November 2021 - AFC Liverpool 2 v 0 Redcar Town - The 2nd round of the FA Vase and so far we have watched the home team win two games to progress to this stage.  I was hoping further advancements could be made with another home tie awaiting our attention, but as ever, I remain neutral and hope the best team wins in a fair and good footballing manner.  The morn was spent leading the last fungus walk of the season, 60 species, a good turn-out and 7 Nettle Books sold - oh aye.  The trip down to the Marine ground was easy and after arriving we had time to purchase a few pasties and cakes from a local bakers who really knew how to sell their wares (so much for the Jane Fonda diet).  Throwing my slimming leotard in the nearest bin I filled the belly, entered the ground with my good lady and met up with our friend STP Stu.  Brews were had, the usual viewing points taken and the jaws wagged in time-honoured fashion.

A watertight start was had by both teams with the first noteworthy moment coming when the guests won a free-kick which No 4 (Nic Weathered) delivered with splendid pace and curve.  As the ball entered the panic zone No 6 (Joe Bennett) dashed in and sent a header... wide - in truth, the first goal of the game should have been bagged. The guests continued to work up a good lather and press with unbound passion. The home lads did win a free-kick after No 11 (Kyle Schorah) was clattered but the creativity value was a maximum of bugger all and so Redcar continued where they left off.  A break came, a solid ball found the cranium of Bennett once more, this time contact was minimal and the ball flew way off target.  A corner for the Reds was the response, No 5 (Luke Stephens) put bonce on ball but the effort was weak and without direction.

From here the hosts warmed to the task at hand, a surge came with a blazing wing run culminating in a delivery No 10 (Callum Schorah) gently pushed on, only to watch the ball just miss the inside of the post.  This should have been a moment when the game moved up a notch but fluidity was lost for a goodly while and the referee was called upon to rattle his pea a little too often (the dirty blighter).  During this unappealing period though Redcar did hold some good possession and only lacked a killer touch in the final third.  Eventually, from the growing murk, the AFCL pack came with K. Schorah at the apex and drilling forth a wonderfully struck shot that the Redcar No 1 (Michael Algie) did well to block with one raised hand.  

The time ticked, the home lads advanced, a choice delivery to C. Schorah saw the ball get stuck in the striker's feet and the chance to bury disappearing quicker than George Michael's todge during a public toilet police raid (and that's quick).  K. Schorah had a punt at goal soon after but the projected effort went straight into the keeper's waiting mitts.  Things looked to be going the home teams way and when No 8 (James Howell) had a shot deflected upwards and No 7 (Jesse Dowling) looked certain to open the scoring it was with a 'WTF' gasp that I watched the ball get walloped over the horizontal.

A bit of spiciness entered the game before half-time, a few half-chances bore no fruit and that was that.  We refused to move into the grot for the break and just stood around and nattered.  A bit of scran fell down the grub tunnels and the growing chill was partly fended off - we needed a goal in this one and all were agreed it looked like the home team were going to get it.

The second period began with both teams playing like cagey poker players and giving nothing away.  A Redcar free-kick promised to give rise to the first real action but the delivery was truly awful.  As the two midfield packs battled, the red clad K. Schorah sprang from the melee and sent forth a low cross.  Dowling appeared and gathered, took control, touched and buried - and about time too.

This opening goal was maybe against the grain but AFC Liverpool are a stubborn side and soak up pressure with practiced patience.  The pack with their todgers in front came again soon after with Dowling the apical component and sending a shot that was a hairs breadth wide of the mark.  Once again the home lads came, Dowling was in, Howell was waiting for the ball but when the cross came the keeper was there with a reliable fisting (just like the ones given by Rectal Roger down Lovelob Lane at the back of the local greengrocers - so I hear).

Still the Reds advanced, a dink pass ensued and up stepped Dowling again, this time to rattle home and double his sides lead - a choice moment that had been coming. The weather was now abhorrent, with the skies bleak and the floodlights illuminating the wintry feel.  AFC Liverpool were still rampant, a well whipped corner saw Redcar panic and somehow survive and strive to build something of quality.  Alas the final ball was missing, much to the chagrin of their No 2 (Connor Prest) who hogged the line in free space and got very little in the way of service.  The guests stuttered to the final whistle and, in truth, gave their opponents too much of an easy ride and looked a trifle miffed with themselves come the end.  Man of the Match was pondered, No 6 (Lee McConchie) I thought put in a stint that kept things secure at the back and threatening in midfield.  The performance was controlled and steady and done in an unassuming style - I like that.

Thankfully the rain eased off as we walked back to the car wondering if the next round would produce another home tie - if so, we may just well be in attendance.

FINAL THOUGHT - A clash of two teams was witnessed today in testing conditions with the hosts squeaking through primarily due to a hard work input.  Redcar Town came and should have offered more, it was a frustrating display with space not fully maximised, control of the ball not at its best and options when moving forth either lacking or not truly grasped.  It is a long way to travel and not play to the best of your ability but these things happen and football is just a right old awkward git at times.  AFC Liverpool put in a hard fought stint without doing anything spectacular - winning ugly is an artform, just ask Fuck Face O Flynn after he recently won the Yorkshire Tiddlywanks Championship - it ain't easy being a fiendish looking blighter trying to throw one off the wrist in public whilst pissed as a fart.  What the home team did tonight was not get on each other's cases, play with a head down focus and stick to their strengths - it may get them further than they think. Before finalising this belated report I found out that the winners are at home again in the next round, this time to Pilkington FC - a note has been made in the diary - I just hope it doesn't clash with the next Tiddlywanks Championship - I have a £50 bet on Tug 'O' Tool and would love to witness him lift the sought after Foreskin Trophy - my knackers are crossed.

CONVINCINGLY 'VIC'TORIOUS

6th November 2021 - Northwich Victoria 7 v 1 Ashton Athletic - Up and out and a quick walk around Victoria Park in Latchford and then to the tattooists to get the belfry inked.  90 minutes later I had 'Fungalised' daubed along the side of the nut and me and my missus were sat in a lovely local cafe having a warm drink and some toasted treats. The rain began to fall and a last minute change of plan sent us to the ground of Northwich Victoria where we could have a sit down out of the falling moisture.  We were welcomed by several fine local supporters and were well and truly settled in by the time 3.00pm came.  I refuse to reveal our predictions as they weren't even close but, I reckon come full time, very few others were near the mark either.

The game began after a 2 minutes silence for fallen heroes.  A poppy wreath was laid by a veteran who proudly saluted and marched off - thank you sir.  

The first advances came from a frisky Ashton pack with a long ball nutted wide.  Another shot followed soon after, but was weaker than the wrist of Paul Merson after a heavy session on the one-armed bandits.  Again the guest pack came, No 11 (Joshua Nicholson) was out wide with the home mitter spied off his line  A shot was launched from distance, the ball rose, fell and bulged meshings - what a way to get the scoresheet blemished.

Now, the dozing Vic-Men had to push and push they did only to come up against a rock solid defensive wall.  Ashton progressed, won a corner that the wind helped to waste and then, the home lads broke like a rampant fart from a fat-man's overstuffed anus.  No 10 (Bradley Lynch) went on the chase, the visiting No 1 (James Aspinall), came forth and then pedalled back.  A shot came and was struck with sugar sweet accuracy.  The keeper was beat, the ball kissed the inside of the upright (ooh sexy) and flew into the netting - back to all square we were.

Now the Vics were on it.  A long cross ensued which was nutted down to No 9 (Carl Grimshaw) who used good muscle to hold the ball, turn and propel towards goal.  The keeper sprawled and saved well, with Ashton taking a deep breath and scurrying away.  No 7 (Ethan Brough) was out wide, a low placement pass found No 9 (Gabriel Ellis) who released a punt towards the bottom corner - by crikey lad that were close.

The game continued. Northwich Victoria sprung the traps with No 11 (Matthew Birchall) darting, cutting in and putting in a shot that quivered the timber.  Grimshaw followed up, the mittman saved, Grimshaw regained possession and this time thumped home - Ashton looked mighty stunned to say the least.  Within mere moments the Vics were marauding forth again with No 7 (Ryan Winder) galloping like a man with the shits on his way to a targeted karsi.  The basin of success looked ready to be filled but the possessor of the ball unselfishly laid off and allowed Bradley to make for the third splash of success.  Cracking stuff or should that be, cacking stuff?

A free-kick was awarded next to the rampant home 'erberts.  A good ball was posted with the keeper doing well to tip behind.  The ball was placed at the angle, Lynch gave it a good hoof with plenty of bend, a mystery wind got up at the last and the ball went straight into the onion bag - talk about a bonus.  Two questions immediately arose  - was the ball fitted with a remote control device or was the scorer in league with nefarious dark forces - either way, they all count.

The home lads were now running the show and eager to get a few more goals.  Ashton Athletic were in disarray and looking to stop the leakage - a pair of footballing Tena Pads was the best I could offer. Northwich came on, eyed the jugular with No 3 (Joel Bembo-Leta) setting off on a lusty run.  The dashing player passed to Grimshaw who walloped first time with his unfavoured foot, this time the keeper could take a breather. Seconds later a ball over the top saw Birchall sneak in again, once more the keeper was untroubled as a defensive bod produced a high class tackle to smother the danger.  Within the twitch of a Tadpole's todge Birchall was wriggling away for the second time.  A shot came, the outcome was wide as was another effort soon after with the same player receiving from Winder, but again not zoned in to the vital area.

Onwards and a Vic's corner brought panic in the AA box, survival was had, but only just.  The visitors began to push, but lost possession with No 2 (Roman Allen) collecting and then releasing a sumptuous pass that cut the opposition in half allowing Birchall to collect and bury.  I think we could say that was that.

Before the break more action came in the Ashton box with the keeper tipping the ball up, blocking a shot and then Grimshaw having a dig and winning an angled boot.  The corner came, no joy was had, a repeat kick followed with the globe finding its way onto the line and awaiting a killer touch.  The ball was hoofed away, No 5 (Rudy Misambo) returned with an attempt on goal which was way off the mark - phew - half done, thank buggery for that.

We stayed put for the break, chatted to some fine and welcoming locals and assessed what a quality bout of football we had just seen albeit aided by a travelling pack severely out of sorts.  I suspected the half time talk would include phrases such 'you useless bastard', 'what the fuck was that' and 'get your arses into gear, out there and make sure you don't concede another'.  I trembled at the thought and hoped the guests could come out re-invigorated.

The teams came out!  Guess what?  With minutes another goal was had by the coasting Vics who pressed the opposition and fed Lynch who only had the keeper to beat.  The ball was slotted home, 6 - 1 - this was a game in danger boasting a score-line of capricious leanings.

From here, for much of the second period, Northwich Victoria played it cool, passed with patience and forced their opponents to chase shadows.  The Athletic did have a rare sortie forth with Nicholson weaving in and No 10 (Lewis Boyd) having a pop that the keeper had to push behind for a corner.  The free ball in was shite, it about summed up the team's day.

Ashton, to give them credit, worked away and tried to get a consolation, but The Vics were concrete at the back with Allen and Misambo key components.  The game fell a trifle flat, a few semi-chances came and went, a couple of subs were made and the host No 8 (Luke Sephton) sent in a side-footed bender that just wouldn't stay below the crossbar.  The game coughed and spluttered and was a contrasting image of the opening 45 minutes.  During the final throes the six-goal unit pressed with patience and forced the trailing pack to chase and lunge without much success.  Eventually the substitute No 12 (Chad Whyte) received and walloped home, much to the delight of the supporting ranks.

The last gasps came and went, The Athletic had a final thrust that saw a shot easily saved and that was indeed that.  A convincing home win with the Man of the Match choice going to 4 goal star, Northwich Victoria's No 10 (Bradley Lynch),  A fine work rate, a knowledge of where to find space and of course a quartet of goals - what can one add?

Cold, a trifle tired but pleased with the day thus far, we two peeps pissed off homeward vowing that Wincham Park will be visited several times a season from now on.

FINAL THOUGHT - Ashton Athletic were abysmal today, but rest assured, this won't be the case for the rest of the season.  With a little work on holding the ball, using the full playing area and making sure all areas are disciplined they will hopefully sneak a few points here and there and get themselves moving in the right direction.  Days like this happen, the key is now dusting down as quick as possible, getting the fitness levels up to level 'max' and going forth into the next few matches determined to up the ante - watch this space, I certainly will be.  The Vics have not had things all their own way this year and have been something of a mixed bag, they seem to be getting their act together... at last.  I think they played with good earnest desire today and although being allowed to have most of their own way they remained disciplined and not overly greedy.  From here they now need to build and make sure this is a springboard to ongoing success.  This is a tough old league though so matters won't be easy therefore my final advice is 'strap up yer conkers, pull yer socks up, make sure you have yer winter vests on and go ruddy get em' - we shall sithee mighty soon.

THE DESIRE AND THE FIRE

27th October 2021 - Cheadle Town 2 v 1 Isle of Man - Somehow, I am am managing to juggle many tasks and keep on the right side of sanity in doing so.  My aim in life is to put back, I do this in various ways, by heck it gets one nowhere and fags one out.  The option of being an idle fart and on the take is not what I want - hey ruddy ho.  After a day of work, fungi identification and sorting out an extensive 'To Do' list I wandered down to Park Road in clement climes enjoying the autumnal air.  On arrival the fine guy on the gate greeted me and we had a good natter as usual, about the madness in the world and the current downward spiral.  We are mere minions striving to do and not fall into line for the sake of it, beyond that we have no answers.  Eventually I purchased tea and chips and pootled off to the far side of the ground on my lonesome.  I was grateful when I was joined by two footy friends, namely Gareth and Sandra Evans.  More chatting ensued and some rather pathetic predictions - we didn't hang our heads in shame come the full-time result, we are quite use to being in the wrong.

As the wind blew and the gasbagging continued the teams came out and got matters underway in front of a crowd of 100+ people.  The commencement was fairly balanced with the guests applying a subtle and gradual pressure.  A throw in was had, a cranial touch on and the ball was nudged forth with the home keeper somehow keeping his sheet clean with an on-line block.  From the clearance the ball was nutted back to the halfway line with the travelling No 9 (Furo Davies) collecting, noting the keeper off his line and launching a looping shot that fell just shy of the vertical - now that would have been some strike.

Cheadle eventually got their act together and came on with No 10 (Ryan Usher) providing a quality lay-off for No 4 (Andrew Lunt) to gather, touch on and wallop.  The IOM No 1 (Matthew Quirk) watched the direction of the globe and made a quality save. The follow on corner was easily nutted clear. 

The next action soon ensued and it began with a long goal kick from the home keeper.  No 9 (Patrick Davin) duly went on a chase, displayed good strength to knock the ball on to Usher who wasted no time whatsoever in sending in a low sizzling shot. The outcome, 1 - 0 and the cat was amongst the pigeons, nay the rats were amongst the disposable nappies.

Stunned and reeling the Isle of Man set-up wasted no time in counterpunching.  A throw-in was had, a cross with pace followed and up popped No 7 (Lee Gale) to head home and regain parity. Cheadle Town looked gutted, it was a case of the great footballing mistake, never throw away a lead so quickly and so easily - a lesson to be adhered to or six of the best from the footballing headmaster methinks.

From here the IOM outfit turned a screw with numerous balls peppering the Town zone of peril.  The hosts displayed stout resilience and even had a break of their own ending in a punt that was only millimetres wide of the goal. The visitors also came close when a break culminated in a lob from Davies that needed a goal line clearance and then the same player put his cranium on a choice cross with the net there to be bulged.  The contact was true but the direction of the propelled sphere off-line and over - surely another goal wasn't far away.

With very few minutes of the first half remaining the game became a ramshackle and whistle-infected affair with too many stray balls hindering the flow and the sable clad conductor getting a little too 'peep' happy and blowing his oral device with untamed abandon.  Just prior to the break a 50/50 ball saw two players collide in their earnest eagerness to get matters under control.  An Isle of Man player writhed and earned a free-kick.  The ball was played low, a shot went wide, the half was done and all was fair in this love and war battle.

I stayed put for the break and soaked in the bracing air and nattered about what had been and what shall be.  I have a new tattoo planned, a picture of Albert Tatlock on my right testicle and a picture of Ena Sharples on the other - minimal detail is needed as my aging ball bag can provide the ideal wrinkle effect.  Gareth also revealed he is having a tattoo too - apparently it is a list of Cheadle Heath Nomad players he has seen naked - by all accounts it is a long list - I remain disgusted.  His good lady is doing the ink work using nothing more than a felt-tip and a one-pronged fork - oh the art of DIY hey.

Half two and early action saw Davin for Cheadle have two minor chances that he failed to bury and, in truth, there was bugger all else to report on in a game that had become a midfield mush and lacking spark and spunk.  Eventually a few balls forth held a snippet of promise with one such advance leading to an away player getting tumbled in the box and a tad unlucky not to get a penalty.  Cheadle though were the better side now and were exhibiting a desire greater than that shown when Neville Southall was left alone in a lard factory.  As the tide pressed No 7 (Christian Soda) for The Town erupted and surged.  The end line was reached, a rapier cross was delivered and there to tap home was Usher who gave his side a well deserved lead.

Questions were now to be asked of the travelling team.  Lots of huff, puff and a few things duff followed with real defining chances a very scarce commodity.  Town had a free-kick that No 3 (Jack McConnell) posted.  The ball was flicked on, a moment of excitement seemed imminent but the keeper advanced and held with little fuss.  The opposing force still tried to get back into the mix, a sweet through ball saw Davies gallop and nearly make killer contact but the home stickman came forth and did enough to muffle the potential.  Like a constipated goose trying to give birth to a golden egg, the IOM pack strained mighty hard but produced little except a few moments of anguish.

The sands of soccerised time tumbled away, nothing to force pen to paper arose until the very last when a free-kick for the Isle of Man eventually fell to the feet of No 5 (Samuel Baines).  A low shot was sent towards goal, all players stood still and the bated breath of the visiting fans awaited victorious release - if only the ball had stayed on target!

Game done, Man of the Match for me goes to No 10 (Ryan Usher) of Cheadle Town who worked like a pit-pony on steroids and was never afraid to bust a bollock, get stuck in the mix and perspire both off and on the ball.  Keep it up fella - I am sure further rewards will come thy way.

I buggered off home looking at a swift walk, my good lady was waiting for me despite me advising her to get an early night - she is a gem and always deserves mention. I think she picked me up in case my scrotum became perished and I would have to delay my pending tattoo - then again, perhaps not. 

FINAL THOUGHTS - Despite the Isle of Man picking up their tempo of late tonight they were given a lesson in desire and how to stoke the fires in the belly and use them to good affect.  I am sure that this unit will be in the top six come the season ending whistle but a warning has been re-issued that if they treat their opponents to lightly they may come unstuck - this is a league not to be sniffed at.  Cheadle Town are the seasons creepers - sneaking in on the blind side without being overtly flamboyant and noticeably progressive.  Somehow, they have crawled into a position of promise and along the way have put in some good stints and turned over a few solid teams.  How far can they go this time around is anyone's guess but there is a certain grit and downright stubbornness here not to be underestimated.  A few more wins on the bounce and a couple of teams at the top will certainly be watching their arses - bring it on I say.