WOE OF THE WASTERS

26th December 2022 - Cheadle Town 2 v 4 Cheadle Heath Nomads - Christmas Day has been and gone again, prior to it I could only do my best to avoid the hordes of spending shithawks who give the tag of austerity a quite flimsy name.  Of course Boxing Day means the same ethos must be taken as the ones who claim to be potless queue for things they don't need and then spend the rest of the year following set formats and commands whilst going nowhere - silly bastards.  For the Fungalised Family things were kept simple and sweet - a walk to feed and record the birds, a look at some fungi, family games, a fine meal (that is always the best) and a film to finish the day - in this instance the annual re-watch of 'Tales From The Crypt' with Peter Cushing - a veritable fave of mine.  Today, of course, it was back to supporting some Non-League Footy - a local derby as per, with a second match lined up immediately afterwards.

After unloading the Christmas Dinner via the throbbing fundament (sorry love) the lasses headed into town to sort some paper-based stuff and I had a stretch, caught up with some computer work and headed out beneath almost transparent azure skies.  I arrived at the ground in good time, partook of a brew and chatted with a couple of friends.  There was a slight pinch in the climate, I wished I would have clenched earlier in the day and held onto that Christmas meal a little longer.  

With the clock touching the 3pm mark  I watched the players stride out and had my fingers crossed for a goal laden classic, what I got was...

... immediate action via an early free-kick for The Town.  The ball was played with middling height, a flick on ensued but the danger passed without raising the blood pressure of any delicate onlooker.  The hosts continued to press but the Nomads remained unmoved and had a sortie forth, won a corner that saw the home defence stand firm.  After much ado about bugger all the short travelling team burst forth via the hard-working No 9 (Adama Sidibeh).  The upright was clattered, the globe went loose and No 10 (Daniel Byrnes) accepted the late Christmas present and hoofed home.  A perfect start for a side very much in need of the points.

The Town were reeling, the response came in the form of a corner which was easily dealt with.  Within the thrutch of a hummingbird's arse crack the guests were away again, Sidibeh finding himself with only the keeper to beat but being guilty of a wild shot that whizzed wide and into the filthy mizzle.  What a chance that was!  The hosts hit back with a 3 pass move and a quick dig at goal via No 3 (Jack McConnell) that saw the Nomad No 1 (Morgan Piper) drop on the ball with eager anticipation.  

A freekick was the next noteworthy point.  No 9 (Patrick Davin) for the home lads was on it and struck low and firm hoping to catch all unawares.  The ball travelled with pace, pinged off the inside of the upright and somehow ended up in the arms of the much relieved keeper - Lady Luck was shining on the visitors that was for sure.  Another free-kick came the same way moments later, No 11 (Jordan Lazenbury) produced a great strike that walloped the underside of the bar and allowed No 4 (Kyle Mc Gonigle) to dash in and bury to get matters back to all square.

From here the home team piled on some good pressure but a lack of sharpness at the apex brought little reward.  The closest they came was when a cross was flicked on by No 7 (Kaleb Parkinson) and a defender needed to clear on his line, Lazenbury had a pop shy of the mark and  Parkinson dashed forth with focus and skill but the corner earned was wasted and all and sundry returned to their usual positions. 

From this point up to the break The Nomads indulged in a mini renaissance with Sidibeh setting a fine battling and never-say-die example.  Steam rose, legs pumped and both teams battled like Jack Russells over a spare sausage - alas no further breakthroughs were had.

A chinwag with John D was had during the break and I was horrified to hear that he had sold his prosthetic limb company and invested in a Tin Mine in Workington.  The good news though was that he was selling off a few products cheap so I invested in a couple of rubber appendages purely for research reasons - the fact that they looked like men's donglers is neither here nor there. 

And so after a quick nip for an gypsies kiss, a tuck up and a swill of pop I made sure my recent purchases were put safe in my bag and watched the second half unfold.

The second period began with an early Town gratis hoofing.  It was shite but another one seconds later was earned after Parkinson seemed to dupe the referee into believing a serious foul had taken place.  Davin posted, No 4 darted in but no contact was made and the mittman collected without fuss.  The hosts came again, a choice ball found the energetic Parkinson who gathered well, entered the box, pulled the trigger and watched the globe fly wide of the target zone. Once more Cheadle Town came, No 10 (Thomas Murray) let go a fine strike that forced the keeper to produce a quality save.  A corner followed, a handball shout fractured the bracing air, the referee was utterly disinterested.

From here the Nomads responded with a glancing header wide and then No 2 (Robel Kesete) battling away like a bastard on heat and forcing the ball to go loose allowing No 11 (Reuben Dass) to duly bury - 1 - 2 and a shock was on the cards.

Within a twinkling of a youthful eye Dass was away again, wasted no time in putting laces through the ball only to see the end result marked down as a 'near miss'.  The Town were looking below par, The Nomads were seen to be growing in belief.  Another guest attack came, Dass played to No 4 (Jack Warren), the result yet another close shave but no end triumph.  The Town somehow dug out a chance, Murray was the apical component and sent forth a fair pop that once more clattered the framework.  

A drab period followed, McConnell for the home team had a crack off-line and then a substitute darted away, crossed the ball onto the glabrous belfry of Davin who directed goalward.  The one-handed save that came was straight out of the top drawer, it was a veritable highlight of a compelling game.  Davin was involved soon after when he sent the ball to Lazenbury who attempted an audacious overhead that lacked power and no doubt resulted in a twanged gonad and a knotted vas deferens.  The leading tribe reacted, Sidibeh had a wallop over and then ran the flank, worked in, sent in a cross and brought about an own goal - with a two goal cushion the result looked set firmer than one of Fanny Craddock's Sherry Jellies.

I had already selected my man of the match, moments later it was confirmed when the Nomadic No 9 chased a lost cause, won a penalty and stepped up to bury - now that is the way to earn a goal.  After a few more minutes farewells were given and I made my way to the corner of the ground near the exit (I was off to make a quick dash to watch Chadderton FC play Bacup Borough).  As I stood and took in the final flings Cheadle Town bagged a late consolation via Ryan Usher after much fluster.  2 - 4 it was, a fair result from a game that saw two teams huff and puff and strive for the extra festive present.  As said, Man of the Match must go to Cheadle Heath Nomads No 9 (Adama Sidibeh) for a sheer non-stop willingness, being a constant threat and always posing a problem for the opposing force.  He will be a player to count on if the Nomads are to rise through the ranks.

As soon as the whistle blew I was off to meet the missus and daughter and indulge in a second match that was truly terrible.  You can't win em' all.

FINAL THOUGHTS - For me, the league in which the two teams on show today are involved, is no great shakes. I have seen plenty of matches this season and despite the odd squad performance I have yet to see anything outrageously good.  The two teams at the top are the best and should battle it out for the promotional prize - beyond that...who knows?  Cheadle Heath Nomads are getting better but have undergone too many changes in a short space of time to make any inroads this time around.  If they finish just below mid-table it will be a decent do but it is important that they get a settled squad and build from there.  There are a few good battling players in the line-up and some with a wealth of experience - a bit of flair thrown into the mix and maybe a few surprises are in store.  Cheadle Town have had a good run of winning ugly come to and end and appear to be like a rather shagged out Robin Hood and have shot their bolt.  The current dip in form is a worry and the way they played today didn't inspire confidence.  Only a few tweaks though are needed, but they need to come sooner rather than later or a play-off spot will be lost.  8 weeks ago you would have said The Town were guaranteed to be in the top 5, now the top 10 may be the best they can get - I hope to be proven wrong but like the shopping hordes, the Town are being too wasteful - it is not the way forward.

WYTHERING ON THE LINE

6th December 2022 - Wythenshawe Amateurs 1 v 0 Barnton FC - The Non-League authorities have been sent a stern message, a message on behalf of all we touchline stalwarts who brace the cold and watch the great games unfold whilst our genitals wither and the cranial juices freeze over. I mean, it just isn't on is it?  Within the weft of the ravings was a request to issue all gents with suitable sized 'Appendage Heaters' and all eager lasses with appropriately designed 'Thermal Pussy Plugs' - for a minimal fee many clubs could add to their coffers and perhaps even create their own genital heating range - the 'Denton Town Anti-Dick Ditherer', the 'Barnton Ball Wrap' or even the 'Cheadle Town Chunky Knit Chuff Muff' etc. etc.  Alas this is all a dream and with the Orbs and Sceptre tucked up tight I met up with STP Stu and indulged in a brew and a burger.  Predictions were made, we both agreed the home team should do the business - the mockers were on, could the Ams defy the curse of the prophesying pillocks.

The opening throes of the contest were brisk and highly animated with both teams displaying a fine hunger.  The first free kick came for the hosts after a bizarre sex hug surely meant the fouled player would need a pregnancy test after the match.  No 7 (Kieran Curtis) delivered the bonus boot, a corner was conceded but the ball was hoofed too long, and the chance disappeared into the perishing sky.  The hosts built momentum from here and started to dominate with another angled input coming and a solid on-the-line header needed to stave off penetration of the meshing.

Barnton were now under a severe cosh, with the keeper not helping matters by dawdling on the ball and nearly being robbed on two different occasions by the huffing and harassing No 9 (Saul Henderson).  The ball eventually went towards the home goal, the keeper got his maulers on matters and propelled a long hoof that Curtis chased and controlled.  A sweet contact was made, a marker negotiated, and a cross delivered with No 11 (Joseph Bevan) popping up and burying with unflustered ease.

A pause came next, there was a hole in the pitch, no doubt caused by an escapee mole from the laboratory of the local mad scientist Professor Glands - the man and his experiments are a public menace. With repairs done, the game restarted with another long ball posing Barnton problems and the flashing Bevan nearly in again.  Moments later No 10 (Bryan Ly) had a pop from middling distance, the outcome being a layer of paint removed from the outside of the horizontal.

The incessant blue flow continued with The Villagers doing well to keep the deficit down to one goal. A free-kick came next, Ly hit a pearler but was denied by the stubborn upright.  The strike was surely deserved of better. Barnton eventually had a pop on goal via the hard working No 2 (Jay Lee).  The host No 1 (Samuel Goodwin) kept his orbs on the ball though and saved well. The guests slowly worked themselves into the game, but luck wouldn't roll their way and after a yellow card was issued for what seemed a perfect tackle the half ended with Wythy on top and nearly doubling their lead via a prod by No 5 (Luke Worth) that was just shy of the mark.

Matters stayed as they were with me and my mate Stu making quick haste to acquire a warming brew and get the circulation flowing. On the way back to our touchline spot we were far from impressed by a flock of Moroccan Shit-Hawks pecking at the home dug out, it seems the aforementioned Professor's aviary is in need of repair with a runaway Yellow Nobbed Ostrich seen soon after and confirming our suspicions. Honestly, the RSPCA need contacting and perhaps, I need to a trip to the docs to check the medication I am on.  

Half two and an early gratis hoofing for Barnton saw No 10 (Joseph Levey) deliver and a header get deflected wide.  The corner came, a bonce sent the ball skyward, the keeper punched and the pressure was eased. Another Barnton corner came, a handball shout rent the night air, the referee was having none of it and waved play on.  The Wythy Warriors reacted, a free-kick was won but the strike by Ly was straight into the meat of the keeper's carcass.

From here, it must be said that Barnton put in some impressive work with a few shots coming at the opposing goal and the home ranks forced to scamper like macho men in the midst of a worked-up Village People reunion.  The impetus and never-say-die attitude was applaudable, the only thing lacking was a goal.  

Eventually, tired legs and fagged frameworks helped the game fall apart at the seams, similar in fact to a well rogered Bagpuss.  Substitutes were made by both teams; the steam rose from players busting a gut but a stalemate had been reached despite Barnton's valiant efforts. Minor excitement came but little in the way of orgasmic inducing eruptions were witnessed.  With flaccidness taking hold the final whistle blew and I was left to ponder the Man of the Match which goes to Barnton Town's No 2 (Jay Lee) for a real stint, some hard chasing and for primarily being keen and eager from first to last.  He was unlucky to be on the losing team in a game of two halves that was surely deserved of a draw - sometime the footballing Gods are real bastards.

FINAL THOUGHTS - If Barnton FC play like they did in the first half they will have a long season ahead, if they play like they did in the second half they will do just fine.  The reverse can be said of Wythenshawe Amateurs - more performances like the first half and the door of promotion will be nudged wider with every game.  More performances like the second period and the hinges will come off and the door will come crashing down.  I suspect Barnton will get better as the season unfolds, a top ten finish will be satisfactory methinks although areal push could get them a few places higher.  The WA pack expect promotion, but it may well have to be the play-offs through which they eventually progress.  They are definitely a top 2 side and just need to stay focused for the full-term and make sure they bury teams when in command.  There will be upsets and chances taken and lost along the way, once we get to the other side of Christmas the picture will be a little clearer.

CONTINUATION

3rd December 2022 - Maine Road FC 3 v 4 Stockport Georgians - The year has been hectic, I have had no real time to do a flourish of match reports due to being immersed in many other areas.  The gigs are done for the year, it has been a joy of DIY wonder kicking against the pricks, the walks I lead are finished, it has been a very successful campaign albeit against the growing swathes of pluckers and fuckers.  Now, the winter months are here, the back and hips have gone twang, family needs are taking time and with work and the continued DIY and natural duties I am on the back arthritic foot.  People have been dropping like flies, the masses have got over the Covid fiasco and shown that the majority are primarily senseless and incapable of learning any lesson and making a difference to the future.  Babies continue to drop from fannies like coins from a broken slot machine arcade, buildings fly up quicker than a flock of Woodcock with their arses on fire and the Governmental corruption continues whilst commercial and media ventures consume all sense of liberation and individuality.  As a result all I can do is piss in the wind, defy and do what I do - this match report is squeezed from a flustered sphincter (I can shit in the wind if I want to) and I hope reeks of good passion and fine intent.  

After a morn stretching the back, having a walk with the missus and a work-out on the punchbag a fine dinner was consumed before I was dropped off at the ground whilst my missus went and did her mum's shopping and welcomed her home from a long stay in hospital.  My good mate STP Stu was in attendance and the jaws wagged whilst hot liquid was dropped into the belly in the hope of staving off any chill.  Little did Stu know but I was wearing my recently acquired Jacob Rees Mog underpants - they lack any transparency and can hold a huge amount of shit (just like the blue-stained man himself).

And so, at 3pm and with arses parked (shit warmed in my case - ooh heck), the globe got rolling as did the ball on the end of my pen. 

No sooner had the bag of wind been hoofed than Maine Road broke with a choice ball threaded to No 11 (Joshua Clegg) on the flank who posted a low ball into the box with No 10 (Joseph Keyworth) there to bury.  The contact came, gasps came from the excited onlookers, the end result was a close miss.  The game eventually settled after much enthusiastic huffing and puffing.  The Road played with their usual overly zealous gusto, the Georgians prodded and poked with patience.  The hosts put together the next attack, No 9 (Yousif Yousif) displayed good muscle and desire but the end shot that came was a poor pea-roller that failed to test the mittman. A gratis boot was given to the hosts next, No 6 (Jamie Roe) delivered, the keeper collected with ease.  The home team came again, No 2 (Jake Pogson) put in a fine cross, Keyworth was there but was denied at the death - these missed opportunities were destined to become haunting memories for sure.

Next up and a Road corner came  which the guest keeper knuckled clear.  A break ensued, a sugar sweet pass found the galloping No 7 (Kyle Wych) who duly chased whilst the home keeper left his line to deal with matters.  The No 1 (Peter Monteith) got to the globe first, made a complete hash of matters allowing the wannabe goal getter to take possession of the orb and face an open goal.  One look was taken, the ball was stroked home - 0 - 1 - the hosts looked dumb-founded and the keeper looked rather pissed off with himself - a lesson learnt I hope!

The game now became a little more physical, the blue clad ranks pushed with No 8 (Abdi Addow) having a healthy dart into the box that ended in a tumbling.  A penalty was awarded, No 5 (Louis Edwards) had to wait whilst disputes were rained upon the ref, a test of one's temperament for sure. Eventually the ball was struck and on its way to the back of the net, audibly scraping the goalies fingers before rippling the meshing. 1 - 1 - game back on.

Much energy was burnt up over the following period with both teams looking to get the upper hand. Suddenly the Georgians swooped from a situation of stress.  The hosts backed off, a shot came, a touch on from No 9 (Jack Woolley) was made, the score was now 1 - 2 and the break was beckoning.

Before the interval the visiting tribe remained on top, No 10 (Oliver McFadyen)) had a punt that flew way over the bar and before the peep of the whistle a final guest free-kick produced bugger all - we scarpered to get a brew, the MR machine needed warming up too.

A queue, a brew, a slash and a dash.  The usual perches were taken, the game continued with great promise.

From the off it was imperative the home lads made a bold impression, alas it was not to be as the Georgians No 6 (Thomas Russell) collected from distance, saw the keeper off his line and sent forth a delectable chip.  As the ball pinged off the upright and nestled in the onion bag the grabber of the goal raised an arm and looked mighty pleased with himself, and so he should, it was a delectable strike.

The Road, now up against the wall, strove to find some inkling of salvation.  After much sweat was spilled a free-kick was wasted and then another one entered the danger zone, missed all players and a defender was caught on the hop and became the victim of an own goal.  A bonus gift for the resident pack, but no sooner had the minute hand done three rotations of the clock, the Stockport team was back in possession of a 2 goal cushion when an attack saw a shot blocked and a follow-up rattled home by the awaiting Wych.  It was a case of 'never concede immediately after a goal' a sacred rule broken many times over the long campaign.

Hectic times came and went as The Road struggled to make any serious headway.  The Georgians sat and sprang with a superb ball allowing McFadyen to charge away.  A cross followed, No 8 (Callum Campbell) was in but sent the globe just wide, could that be a turning point? A drop ball came at the other end (for who knows what)?  A cross followed, a semi-clearance made before Yousif pounced, propelled and reduced the deficit to 1 goal, ruddy heck, this could be a last blast thriller?

As I reached for my double-dose nerve tablets a shout came for a Georgians penalty which the referee firmly ignored.  Time whittled away and the hosts didn't help their case with several slack passes.  The resident Clegg still looked to be a potential threat with several crosses delivered but just lacking an assassin's touch.  The dog ends of the game came, Woolley had a pop wide, his opposite number Yousif tried to place a shot that the keeper watched all the way and coolly collected.  As many chilled souls awaited the final whistle the referee dillied and dallied and dealt with some pointless argy-bargy.  With many touchline conkers trembling and many nipples doing a good impression of ruddy wine corks the game was eventually halted, the score-line seemed fair but I couldn't help feeling that the hosts had made this one a little too easy for the travellers. Man of the match goes to the Stockport Georgians No 10 (Oliver McFadyen) - I like the effort, the problems he poses and the persistent willingness to call for the ball when in located space - he is an integral part of a successful squad - nifty!

Big thanks to Stu and his good lady for the lift home after the match, it was much needed after my missus had decided to stay with her mum who had nearly taken a couple of tumbles - what a worry it is!

FINAL THOUGHTS - if you want a dose of good Non-League Football I would always recommend a visit to Brantingham Road. There you will be served a choice dish of honest football whilst excitement, frustration and disbelief are the chosen condiments on offer.  Today the gravy of success was tainted but the joy is in the playing and sticking to the ethical recipe. I will be filling my gut again very soon.

The Georgians are no mugs, they came and played their usual effective game, they don't seem to be anything more than a well-drilled machine with all components working as a group - what else is needed?  They don't get flustered and seem to ooze consistency, in what I deem to be a rather weak league this time around, promotion at the first time of asking, could be theirs.

Maine Road, well what can I say.  They are a real fave team of mine playing at a ground myself, and all who I talk to, have a soft spot for.   I would love to see this lot get back in the premier league but they always leave me befuddled and flabbergasted.  At the moment they are just lacking depth, they need an extra 3 or 4 players to call upon and a real marksman who will not waste the chances they so readily make.  The players gave it their all today, they stuck to their guns and if the two early chances would have been buried the end result could have been oh so different.  Football is all about the 'ifs' though, as is life itself - for example - if I hadn't eaten all those sausages over the years would I be two stone lighter?  If I hadn't stuck my penis in the plug socket when I was a wee nipper would I now be the proud owner of a 'proper pecker'?  Who knows, who cares, with my multi-purpose, off kilter John Thomas I wander on, pissing this way, that way, every way I can and all done with splashing passion. Golden shower anyone?