6th September 2017 - Cheadle Town 1 v 0 Abbey Hulton FC - These football matches are coming around quicker than Keith Lemon's crimes against comedy (what a twat) and I am doing well to squeeze in what I can. The fungus season is nearly upon us and so I will dragged this way and that trying to promote the joys of the mycological world and help the environment get some due note, as a result the matches I attend will be few and far between. Every fruitcake must have many flavours or one could end up as bland as the sex-life of retro Coronation Street wannabe lothario Albert Twatlock (he invented the chastity belt don't ya know) and so I do a bit here, there and sometimes...everywhere. I arrived in decent fettle, chatted to a few amiable folk and had a swift read. I really couldn't predict this one as my knowledge of the visiting team is minimal. In fact I know more about the mating habits of the Batley Wombat than I do about this new viewed squad, this though, is no bad thing. Eventually out came the two opposing footballing tribes, hands were shook and positions taken up - the man in black blew for play.
The globose target was touched by activated trotters and the 90 minutes of play began to tick. It was a safe and steady start from both units but it was the guests who had the first penetrating attack when a cross found the nut of the robust No 9 (Joshua Graham) who headed off target. At the other end a defensive error allowed the No 9 of Cheadle (Jones) to nip in and have a crack at goal. The result was an off-target shot that really should have been buried instead it was a glowing miss. Within moments the green clad hosts had an eye-catching move with No 7 (Jake Ambrose) and No 10 (Richard Whyatt) combining. A cross was borne and met the toe of the awaiting Jones who, from a sharp angle, hoofed the ball forth but the glory of a goal went begging as it did soon after when the rushing Ambrose had a thump forward but saw the side-netting ripple. Abbey Hulton needed a response and a dazzling run by their No 3 (Jonathon Birks) resulted in a low cross that was too quick for the striker who tapped forth but was met by a good goalkeeping block. The game was opening up nicely, the visitors No 9 was a hefty bugger and became a targeted nuisance. He won a free-kick from which came in box confusion, somehow Cheadle managed to clear. Both teams were getting it together, many probing balls were just failing to get that crucial breakthrough. Cheadle's No 8 (Daniel Wood) was fizzing around and Abbey Hulton's No 7 (Sam Luke) was covering some good turf in a contest that was perfectly balanced.
Abbey Hulton won a free punt, it was knocked in and looked problematic but the home No 3 (Josh Harrison) was highly alert and cleared well. Back and forth the game went. Cheadle had a header, straight at the keeper, how this was still goalless was beyond me. From much persistence and pressure came pettiness and bickering and as a result the game lost its flow. The referee did well not to get card happy and got the game back on track although the fly in the ointment was a stubborn one and proceedings stuttered to the halfway break with no further threats had. An intriguing battle this, it was still all to play for.
I had a brief read at half time, tossed down a few yoghurt raisins and stretched the old boiled eggs. A slow drizzle started to fall, the emerald green playing surface looked wonderful - I hoped it would be used to continue this decent match-up.
The first chance of the second period was cultivated by the guests' bustling No 11 (Kieron Ball) who went on a streaking run (no not that sort) and found his comrade No 10 (Josh Bowden). The shot came, the dip was too late, over the bar the ball flew. Up the opposite end, a smooth move was executed but Whyatt's shot was tame. A bout of midfield ping-pong followed (Desmond Douglas failed to make a cameo appearance) and out of the human pinball Cheadle's Ambrose let fly a shot of frustration - again there was no end joy. His teammates came gain, No 11 (George Clarey) finalised a break and made the keeper save and the ball was knocked wide. It was soon after this hopeful punt that Cheadle switched off, Abbey Hulton had time in the box, from a melee of swinging legs a shot came, the result was a superb goalkeeping moment that was applauded by all. The Town reacted, Clarey ran forth like his arse was ablaze, he crossed, a touch from Whyatt was had, the spherical object would not go between the sticks. The match was tight but from my vantage point up on high there was space to be found but hey, this was a hectic game, it is very easy to overlook the obvious when in the midst of the mania.
A few fouls were now creeping in, both teams were putting in a good stint but Cheadle were just applying a greater stranglehold. The keepers at each end were alert, why couldn't the buggers just be a little more Christian and let in a goal or two for we mere paying punters - very selfish of them I thought. Both teams now were running themselves ragged, a free-kick for the travelers was taken by their No 6 (Joshua Beaumont), wow that was awful and an overhead plane was duly grounded. 'Mission control are you hearing me 'Wank flying ball alert' - please confirm'. Clarey for Cheadle was running himself ragged and was insulted with a ludicrous yellow card for a tackle that lacked any spite and any real 'oomph'. A free kick came for Abbey Hulton, the result was another wonderful save. From here desperation took hold, the visiting squad produced a sweet move when Graham threw in a choice back-heel that allowed his colleague to shoot at a sharp angle - and again, the mittman (Daniel Whiting) was down and solid. From here we saw a goalkeeping fumble, a few mis-kicks, several slips and slides and many legs that were now jellified. All at once, Abbey Hulton floundered at the rear, the pinging ball should have been hoofed clear, it wasn't and Richard Whyatt of Cheadle pounced. The connection was resounding, the back of the net was hammered, the home fans roared with delight. The nails in the coffin could have been well and truly hammered home when, within minutes, Cheadle's sub (Robbie Robertson) was at the end of a breakway and missed a glaring chance. It didn't matter though, the ref brought the game to a halt soon after and somehow Cheadle had snatched this one and followed up on their recent impressive win at Sandbach United. The game had been a decent spectacle with both teams striving for that breakthrough and dashing around like kleptomaniacs in an unattended gift shop. Man of the Match for me goes to (George Clarey) of Cheadle Town, simply for his tireless willingness, persistent pushing forth and galloping runs that put the wind up the opponents defense. Keep whizzing about like that lad and your shorts will soon be smouldering - ouch.
FINAL THOUGHT - On their day these two teams will be a test for anyone and it seems, at long last, Cheadle Town may be on the cusp of a consistent run that will see them reach heady zeniths where oxygen salesmen will need to be contacted. Abbey Hulton caught my eye tonight with the way the alternated the pace of play, their desire to keep the ball moving and the fact that they always seemed to have many options and much space. Ok, they didn't take those options tonight and the space was somewhat wasted but they are team who will do just fine and maybe, just maybe, they will sneak a play-off spot and do the business at the tail end. It goes without saying that I will be back at Park Road soon enough and, if my diary stays true I should be watching Abbey Hulton strut their stuff on home turf too - here's to a grand day out (without Wallace and Grommit though - that would be too much mither).
Thursday, 7 September 2017
Tuesday, 5 September 2017
THE BEAUTY OF UGLINESS
4th September 2017 - Stockport Town 0 v 1 Alsager Town - What a testing day! Up early with a fat head due to a cold on the cusp and a bike ride that saw me fall off at the last and scrape my elbow and knee. I discovered a few micro-fungi, one of which gave me a real headache trying to decipher which species it is - very frustrating. Sometimes the cookie crumbles all the wrong way and each and every morsel seems to find its way into your underpants of irritation and really get on one's wick! My good lady and daughter were given full details of my sporting crash complete with exaggerated descriptions and close up views of the sanguine scars - they rated me as a 'silly sod' and kept on watching 'Pointless'. One tries, one tries. A quick update of wildlife sightings, a check of some spores, dressed and out. I arrived early tonight so as to have a read and a chill before the match got underway. A cup of cha' was purchased and a sausage butty (hot damn that was needed) and a seat taken, man I was quite comfy.
8pm arrived, the teams entered the balmy evening air, the match began in earnest (who the hell is Earnest and why oh why does he insist on having a football match played inside him - tis a form of madness I tell ye)! The start was sketchy in the extreme with The Lions just shading matters. The drizzle fell and added a fine grease to the 4G surface that somehow aided and abetted the rank opening period. Constipation reigned supreme but from the blocked bowels a spasm of excitement came. A throw-in was had on one side of the pitch and was pinged to the other with fine passing accuracy. The No 11 (Benjamin Baibsley) of Alsager was allowed to surge through the defensive pack, Town time stood still as the ball, glided into the back of the mesh. The lead was perhaps against the run of play and a disgruntled home squad burst back with a blazing shot that needed tipping over, a corner that produced no joy and much perspired play that addressed the balance. No 11 (Jamie Hinchcliffe) had a punt, it was deflected just wide but a pattern was set with Alsager looking content to sit back, absorb and counter. The Lions raised a weak roar next, No 2 (Daryll Grant) received after No 10 (Jordan Erdman) smartly dummied. The cross was low and accurate and No 9 (Oliver Jepson) looked set to score - alas the globe was disappointingly lumped over.
Alsager began to work back in to this trying contest, a half chance for Jepson should have been buried. An offside call against the rushing Bullets caused tempers to become frayed with the referee doing mighty well to quell matters. Alsager came again, No 8 (Warren Holmes) played a stunning ball, it started a move that saw a cross go into the box and find the in-rushing No 3 (Kyle Stubbs) who rattled restlessly wide. The weather remained dire, the game followed suit and the half fizzled out, along with everyone's interest and the referees whistle was a blessing without disguise.
I sat quietly in the interval, enjoying the book I was determined to finished. The 15 minutes passed mighty swiftly, the teams came back into the murk.
The hosts had early possession but it was Alsager's Jepson who cracked a rousing howitzer that must have been a relief to the home lads when it dipped a little too late and went over the bar. The same team came again with a goal-kick, nod on that led to No 2 (Kiarno Samms) sail in and pull the trigger - just wide of the far post. Now that was a warning if ever I saw one. The black and whites came again, Jepson threaded and found space to pass. No 7 (Taylor Attrell) latched on and shot - inches wide. In response Stockport started to build impetus but an injured opponent halted this rise and brought a sticky game into an even deeper quagmire. The game eventually got going again with The Lions running at the opponents and causing a certain discomfort and a lack of adhesion. All the while, as time ticked on, Alsager remained stubborn and after a brace of fouls and some pushing and shoving Town had a free kick. The execution was crap, the counterattack looked tasty but was finalised with more crapulence and a late thrust from the hosts did cause chaos and raise hopes of some form of excitement but a header that should have been on target went wretchedly wayward. It kind of summed up a match that must be one of the worst I have been to, a contest that just didn't get going and involved two teams who cancelled each other out and negated any chance of liquidity. The ref blew, all were glad and out of much negativity I found a positive point in the Man of the Match, the A's No 4 (David Harry) who was resolute at the rear, threw himself into each and every challenge and when in any doubt, hoofed the ball clear and allowed his team to regroup - a workmanlike effort for sure.
FINAL THOUGHT - Turds cannot be polished and when the Gods of Depression conspire to make a match a real sticking test of even the most holy man's patience then the player and the punter are doomed. The plus points from tonight's contest were that both teams showed a tough resilience, had an ability to get their heads down and strive to grab something from a stuttering game and also had a defensive tenacity that will cause many teams debilitating consternation. To add to this, Alsager seem to have a knack of winning ugly, in that there is a perverse beauty, one the connoisseurs will appreciate. I shall be back at Stockport Sports Village over the forthcoming winter months, I hope to pop down to see The Bullets play at home too but if I get more of the same as what I witnessed tonight though I may be forced to compose a letter of complaint or...lock myself in the toilets with a bag of sausage butties. I am trying to remain upbeat and clutch at straws - please forgive me. Oh one last thing, when I got home I finally confirmed a fungus species - Patellaria atrata was the tinker - lovely and not everyday you'll read of it in a footy report.
8pm arrived, the teams entered the balmy evening air, the match began in earnest (who the hell is Earnest and why oh why does he insist on having a football match played inside him - tis a form of madness I tell ye)! The start was sketchy in the extreme with The Lions just shading matters. The drizzle fell and added a fine grease to the 4G surface that somehow aided and abetted the rank opening period. Constipation reigned supreme but from the blocked bowels a spasm of excitement came. A throw-in was had on one side of the pitch and was pinged to the other with fine passing accuracy. The No 11 (Benjamin Baibsley) of Alsager was allowed to surge through the defensive pack, Town time stood still as the ball, glided into the back of the mesh. The lead was perhaps against the run of play and a disgruntled home squad burst back with a blazing shot that needed tipping over, a corner that produced no joy and much perspired play that addressed the balance. No 11 (Jamie Hinchcliffe) had a punt, it was deflected just wide but a pattern was set with Alsager looking content to sit back, absorb and counter. The Lions raised a weak roar next, No 2 (Daryll Grant) received after No 10 (Jordan Erdman) smartly dummied. The cross was low and accurate and No 9 (Oliver Jepson) looked set to score - alas the globe was disappointingly lumped over.
Alsager began to work back in to this trying contest, a half chance for Jepson should have been buried. An offside call against the rushing Bullets caused tempers to become frayed with the referee doing mighty well to quell matters. Alsager came again, No 8 (Warren Holmes) played a stunning ball, it started a move that saw a cross go into the box and find the in-rushing No 3 (Kyle Stubbs) who rattled restlessly wide. The weather remained dire, the game followed suit and the half fizzled out, along with everyone's interest and the referees whistle was a blessing without disguise.
I sat quietly in the interval, enjoying the book I was determined to finished. The 15 minutes passed mighty swiftly, the teams came back into the murk.
The hosts had early possession but it was Alsager's Jepson who cracked a rousing howitzer that must have been a relief to the home lads when it dipped a little too late and went over the bar. The same team came again with a goal-kick, nod on that led to No 2 (Kiarno Samms) sail in and pull the trigger - just wide of the far post. Now that was a warning if ever I saw one. The black and whites came again, Jepson threaded and found space to pass. No 7 (Taylor Attrell) latched on and shot - inches wide. In response Stockport started to build impetus but an injured opponent halted this rise and brought a sticky game into an even deeper quagmire. The game eventually got going again with The Lions running at the opponents and causing a certain discomfort and a lack of adhesion. All the while, as time ticked on, Alsager remained stubborn and after a brace of fouls and some pushing and shoving Town had a free kick. The execution was crap, the counterattack looked tasty but was finalised with more crapulence and a late thrust from the hosts did cause chaos and raise hopes of some form of excitement but a header that should have been on target went wretchedly wayward. It kind of summed up a match that must be one of the worst I have been to, a contest that just didn't get going and involved two teams who cancelled each other out and negated any chance of liquidity. The ref blew, all were glad and out of much negativity I found a positive point in the Man of the Match, the A's No 4 (David Harry) who was resolute at the rear, threw himself into each and every challenge and when in any doubt, hoofed the ball clear and allowed his team to regroup - a workmanlike effort for sure.
FINAL THOUGHT - Turds cannot be polished and when the Gods of Depression conspire to make a match a real sticking test of even the most holy man's patience then the player and the punter are doomed. The plus points from tonight's contest were that both teams showed a tough resilience, had an ability to get their heads down and strive to grab something from a stuttering game and also had a defensive tenacity that will cause many teams debilitating consternation. To add to this, Alsager seem to have a knack of winning ugly, in that there is a perverse beauty, one the connoisseurs will appreciate. I shall be back at Stockport Sports Village over the forthcoming winter months, I hope to pop down to see The Bullets play at home too but if I get more of the same as what I witnessed tonight though I may be forced to compose a letter of complaint or...lock myself in the toilets with a bag of sausage butties. I am trying to remain upbeat and clutch at straws - please forgive me. Oh one last thing, when I got home I finally confirmed a fungus species - Patellaria atrata was the tinker - lovely and not everyday you'll read of it in a footy report.
Sunday, 3 September 2017
A POOTLE AT THE POTTERIES
2nd September 2017 - Hanley Town 1 v 3 Charnock Richard - It had been over a year since I last tootled down to Potteries Park and, seeing that my wife and daughter fancied a shopping trip in Hanley, I took full advantage of the situation and squeezed in a footballing jaunt. In truth I should have gone shopping as my Marks and Sparks crotchless underpants did need replacing but I am a hardy soul and in the name of Non-League football I am willing to let my jewels perish in the Autumnal wafts or, as was the case today, let them frazzled in the Indian summer. Arriving at the ground in decent time I partook of some necessary victuals, located a good position and whiled away the time pondering many things and reading a book on 'flies' - my head is always awash with many tangents. The two armies for today's affair marched forth into the scene of battle, my mental wager was set, the outcome of the game was as thus:-
Both units were straight at each others throats with a Hanley counterpunch nearly landing in the tender parts of their guests rear but alas their No 10 (Theo Stair) was halted at the last by a quick witted mitter who certainly had no cobwebs clinging to his carcass. The CR crew responded and when a fine lofted long ball found Mark Adams but Hanley's No 2 (Josh Thorpe) produced a fine block and kept the onslaught nicely at bay. Another sweet ball from Charnock sliced open the Hanley defense but the ensuing cross and mis-controlled end punt were more than a trifle disappointing. Charnock were not to be deterred though and came forth again on fired up heels that saw a tap homeward dealt with by the agile keeper (Joe Hemmings). A very choice stop I thought. From the corner the crust toward goal was unlucky not to ripple mesh but the visitors stayed positive and were definitely having the best part of this opening period. Several players were catching the optical organs and showing penetrating effect and strong desire, all that was lacking was that final killing touch. A rare sortie forth from The Town ensued, a corner ended with No 4 nutting goalward, the deflection was mightily cruel. From here the home team dug in with their 9 (Dan Cope) and 10 (Theo Stair) looking particularly problematic. In fact Cope produced a moment of genius when he turned on a sparrows chuff, bicycle kick-volleyed a shot goalward and was only denied by the reaching tips of the keeper who knocked the ball onto the bar. Within minutes Hanley's No 5 found his colleague (Stair) who weaved between 2 defenders and cracked off a shot that went just wide of the far post and millimetres away from Cope's outstretched toes. The response was immediate and Charnock's No 9 (Carl Grimshaw) had a chance to tap into a semi-vacant net after a goalkeeping punch wasn't dealt with but, out of nowhere, the reliable mittman appeared again and did the business in firm style blocking the ball and keeping the scoresheet unblemished. What a good game this guy was having.
Suddenly the game turned, the balance was shattered and after Hanley dawdled in defense and a hopeless ball was chased by Charnock's No 2, a late tackle came on a colleague and a harsh penalty was given. No 8 stepped up (Nathan Fairhurst) and slapped in a decisive conversion. A reaction came, Hanley's No 11 (Jonathon Sheldon) cut inside and ripped forth a shot - wide but enthusing. From here the hosts came on, Theo Stair was in the mix again, bobbing and weaving in the box, he prepared to shoot, once, twice, third time lucky. Well taken lad and what an admirable fight back shown. Both teams now locked horns (dirty buggers) and chances came at either end but nothing substantial was borne. The time tickled away, No 7 (Anthony Hough) and No 4 (Jack Sanders) for Charnock Richard were throwing it about a bit (ooh the vulgar devils) and making sure persistence reined supreme. The persistence brought a late on free-kick but the opposing gloved guardian rose and punched clear and at the last a ball was cleared off the line when O'Farrell and Davison combined to create sub-chaotic times for The Blues. The half eventually ended, in this heat the teams deserved a break.
I chilled in the thermals and stretched the old boiled eggs whilst having a sip of Lemon Barley Water - cripes I was warm.
The teams came back out, the guests applied immediate pressure with Grimshaw having a quick shot that saw the ball rebound off the upright before another shot come forth and a handball offence was committed. The eagle eyed man in black saw it all and when he brandished his card of red it was an early dip for the unfortunate culprit (Joshua Thorpe) who held his head in his hands and trudged off. The penalty was taken, Fairhurst slotted home with aplomb, the game changing incident was complete. Now Charnock Richard applied harsh pressure but all the while the end fatal death kiss remained elusive. Hanley had to call upon deeper reservoirs of resistance, Sheldon somehow managed a shot, albeit wild and off target and his team strove on. Grimshaw for the Richard finalised a counter break with a shot that made the keeper save yet again and make this contest still up for grabs. As CR looked for ascendancy with numerous corners it was a certain hesitancy to go for the jugular that was making this an unfinished result. Grimshaw had another attempt, this time from his eggshell coloured head, the ball went over and frustration spilled moments later when he twice kicked the ball netward after the referee had rattled his pee (in public as well, oh the indecency of it all). A booking was given, surely heads wouldn't crack at this stage!
Next up No 10 for CR let fly, fine save and soon after 2 more shots came in from almost point-blank range via a foot and a bonse. The immovable object of Hanley's last man remained resolute and made sure oxygen of hope still pumped around the arteries of his defiant squad. Action came both ends now, a Charnock Richard flourish saw their sub have two punts, both blocked one by a defenders boat-race - the poor bugger. Hanley posed questions the other end, Theo Stair the tinker of trouble was at it again with a shot and a header both thwarted by the visiting goalie who made sure this was a fine showpiece for the work these mitted unsung heroes perform. The green clad team now made a desperate last push to grab a sealing goal but time and again they ran, quite unnecessarily, into offside positions, much to the disgruntlement of their travelling support. At last, and in the 95th minute, they got the break through via a weak shot that seemingly gave birth to more disappointment but somehow snuck in and cemented a hard fought win. It gave added gloss and perhaps a false tint to a game that was closer than the scoreline suggested, a common occurrence in this funny old game. The final whistle game and we were done with my Man of the Match going to Hanley's No 1 (Joe Hemmings) who was a stalwart between the sticks and produced an abundance of saves that made sure his team stayed within striking distance of opponents on the rampage. It was a very worthy stint that deserved more - maybe next time!
FINAL THOUGHT - I came, I pottered and I witnessed a close affair that saw one or two key performances that will put both squads in good stead throughout the coming months. The Mossie Men are a decent set-up and within the midfield they produced some good passages of play that will create many a chance. The only gripe I had today was that a certain dawdling around the box, perhaps down to lack of options, cost them so many extra chances on goal that could have finalised the game long before the 95th minute. The team will do just fine though and I reckon will be in the top 4 come season end. Hanley Town are a resolute force and will be no pushover for any team, both home and away and with some fine footballing facets and some persistent and talented players they will end the campaign with more wins than losses that is for sure. They have a nice set up at this club and it is always a pleasure to pop down and enjoy the game, I hope to be back sooner rather than later - in the meantime - keep the spirit chaps.
Both units were straight at each others throats with a Hanley counterpunch nearly landing in the tender parts of their guests rear but alas their No 10 (Theo Stair) was halted at the last by a quick witted mitter who certainly had no cobwebs clinging to his carcass. The CR crew responded and when a fine lofted long ball found Mark Adams but Hanley's No 2 (Josh Thorpe) produced a fine block and kept the onslaught nicely at bay. Another sweet ball from Charnock sliced open the Hanley defense but the ensuing cross and mis-controlled end punt were more than a trifle disappointing. Charnock were not to be deterred though and came forth again on fired up heels that saw a tap homeward dealt with by the agile keeper (Joe Hemmings). A very choice stop I thought. From the corner the crust toward goal was unlucky not to ripple mesh but the visitors stayed positive and were definitely having the best part of this opening period. Several players were catching the optical organs and showing penetrating effect and strong desire, all that was lacking was that final killing touch. A rare sortie forth from The Town ensued, a corner ended with No 4 nutting goalward, the deflection was mightily cruel. From here the home team dug in with their 9 (Dan Cope) and 10 (Theo Stair) looking particularly problematic. In fact Cope produced a moment of genius when he turned on a sparrows chuff, bicycle kick-volleyed a shot goalward and was only denied by the reaching tips of the keeper who knocked the ball onto the bar. Within minutes Hanley's No 5 found his colleague (Stair) who weaved between 2 defenders and cracked off a shot that went just wide of the far post and millimetres away from Cope's outstretched toes. The response was immediate and Charnock's No 9 (Carl Grimshaw) had a chance to tap into a semi-vacant net after a goalkeeping punch wasn't dealt with but, out of nowhere, the reliable mittman appeared again and did the business in firm style blocking the ball and keeping the scoresheet unblemished. What a good game this guy was having.
Suddenly the game turned, the balance was shattered and after Hanley dawdled in defense and a hopeless ball was chased by Charnock's No 2, a late tackle came on a colleague and a harsh penalty was given. No 8 stepped up (Nathan Fairhurst) and slapped in a decisive conversion. A reaction came, Hanley's No 11 (Jonathon Sheldon) cut inside and ripped forth a shot - wide but enthusing. From here the hosts came on, Theo Stair was in the mix again, bobbing and weaving in the box, he prepared to shoot, once, twice, third time lucky. Well taken lad and what an admirable fight back shown. Both teams now locked horns (dirty buggers) and chances came at either end but nothing substantial was borne. The time tickled away, No 7 (Anthony Hough) and No 4 (Jack Sanders) for Charnock Richard were throwing it about a bit (ooh the vulgar devils) and making sure persistence reined supreme. The persistence brought a late on free-kick but the opposing gloved guardian rose and punched clear and at the last a ball was cleared off the line when O'Farrell and Davison combined to create sub-chaotic times for The Blues. The half eventually ended, in this heat the teams deserved a break.
I chilled in the thermals and stretched the old boiled eggs whilst having a sip of Lemon Barley Water - cripes I was warm.
The teams came back out, the guests applied immediate pressure with Grimshaw having a quick shot that saw the ball rebound off the upright before another shot come forth and a handball offence was committed. The eagle eyed man in black saw it all and when he brandished his card of red it was an early dip for the unfortunate culprit (Joshua Thorpe) who held his head in his hands and trudged off. The penalty was taken, Fairhurst slotted home with aplomb, the game changing incident was complete. Now Charnock Richard applied harsh pressure but all the while the end fatal death kiss remained elusive. Hanley had to call upon deeper reservoirs of resistance, Sheldon somehow managed a shot, albeit wild and off target and his team strove on. Grimshaw for the Richard finalised a counter break with a shot that made the keeper save yet again and make this contest still up for grabs. As CR looked for ascendancy with numerous corners it was a certain hesitancy to go for the jugular that was making this an unfinished result. Grimshaw had another attempt, this time from his eggshell coloured head, the ball went over and frustration spilled moments later when he twice kicked the ball netward after the referee had rattled his pee (in public as well, oh the indecency of it all). A booking was given, surely heads wouldn't crack at this stage!
Next up No 10 for CR let fly, fine save and soon after 2 more shots came in from almost point-blank range via a foot and a bonse. The immovable object of Hanley's last man remained resolute and made sure oxygen of hope still pumped around the arteries of his defiant squad. Action came both ends now, a Charnock Richard flourish saw their sub have two punts, both blocked one by a defenders boat-race - the poor bugger. Hanley posed questions the other end, Theo Stair the tinker of trouble was at it again with a shot and a header both thwarted by the visiting goalie who made sure this was a fine showpiece for the work these mitted unsung heroes perform. The green clad team now made a desperate last push to grab a sealing goal but time and again they ran, quite unnecessarily, into offside positions, much to the disgruntlement of their travelling support. At last, and in the 95th minute, they got the break through via a weak shot that seemingly gave birth to more disappointment but somehow snuck in and cemented a hard fought win. It gave added gloss and perhaps a false tint to a game that was closer than the scoreline suggested, a common occurrence in this funny old game. The final whistle game and we were done with my Man of the Match going to Hanley's No 1 (Joe Hemmings) who was a stalwart between the sticks and produced an abundance of saves that made sure his team stayed within striking distance of opponents on the rampage. It was a very worthy stint that deserved more - maybe next time!
FINAL THOUGHT - I came, I pottered and I witnessed a close affair that saw one or two key performances that will put both squads in good stead throughout the coming months. The Mossie Men are a decent set-up and within the midfield they produced some good passages of play that will create many a chance. The only gripe I had today was that a certain dawdling around the box, perhaps down to lack of options, cost them so many extra chances on goal that could have finalised the game long before the 95th minute. The team will do just fine though and I reckon will be in the top 4 come season end. Hanley Town are a resolute force and will be no pushover for any team, both home and away and with some fine footballing facets and some persistent and talented players they will end the campaign with more wins than losses that is for sure. They have a nice set up at this club and it is always a pleasure to pop down and enjoy the game, I hope to be back sooner rather than later - in the meantime - keep the spirit chaps.
Wednesday, 30 August 2017
CRACK AT THE SHACK
29th August 2017 - Irlam FC 0 v 2 AFC Liverpool - After a long day at work and some quick on-line website work at home it was in a mithered state that myself and my good lady headed over to Silver Street. The last time I was here was 2 years ago so a revisit was long overdue. The trip down was easy enough, the pre-match drinks most welcome and the weather for tonight's soccerised tickling was decent enough. This was the continuance of a very busy week with many tasks on many fronts lined up to be duly tackled. Tonight the brilliant blue of The Mitchells (est 1969) was up against the rubicund flush of The Little Reds (est 2008) in a contest that would surely jump start both teams season after a faltering few games. Positions were adopted after a chat with the genial gent Matthew Kay (Irlam's Assistant Manager) about the night's prospect. This was what developed before our keen mince- pies.
During the first period of the globe's revolution neither team established any ascendancy with an early sight-setter by The Reds No 11 (Daniel Boden) a meagre snippet of entertainment. Rapid rushes came either end with both teams passing and pushing and looking for that initial sniff of net glory. Irlam had the first opportunity of any substance when their No 10 (Jordan Icely) sneaked in but was thwarted at the last gasp by a quick off the line mitter. From here parity was re-established and this looked all set to be a closely contested chess match when suddenly, like a bishop on a rabid evangelical quest, Irlam's No 5 (Ryan Ledson) halted the opponents break with what is best described as a sinful tackle and was sent off the playing board in no uncertain terms. To add insult to injury, salt of the most spiteful kind was rubbed into the gaping wound when No 9 (Kevin Edgar) stepped up and curled the free-kick around the defensive wall and found the bottom corner of the net. It was a double blow that needed to be met with resilience and character something that Irlam displayed in abundance over the rest of the match with a distinct stubbornness not to be underestimated. A close in header was a great way to respond but Liverpool's No 1 (Dominic Garner) was equal to the task and made a fine reaction save although he failed to get to the next shot but his trusty upright came to the rescue as it was clattered with sincere might.
Good application by the Blues made sure they held their own but it was more than apparent that AFC Liverpool had one or two players quite capable of breaking the pattern and grabbing a second killer strike. This duly happened when No 8 (Calum Woods) was quick to counter, showed an unselfish streak and crossed to Kevin Edgar who was only denied by a shot by a late block that maybe saved the day. Seconds later No 10 (Deklan Anthony Hill) was through but weakly toe-poked his attempt on goal and allowed the keeper to make a regulation save. Next and No 7 (Stephen Milne) surged with intent, beat 2 players and squeezed in a cross from the touchline, somehow the Irlam back bods read the situation well and cleared the peril only for Edgar to try his luck moments later with a punt that missed the goal but kept the home squad on the back foot. Things seemed to be picking up when, from positive light, blackness descended as the floodlights overhead went out and the game was duly halted. We grabbed the chance to slurp some tea and move our rears to the opposite side of the ground whereupon we awaited the outcome. At last a flicker came, a glow grew and the ref let things get back underway. The players and the light loving moths commenced their action. 2 rough fouls by Irlam impeded impetus but the same team somehow cultivated a snap shot that was saved and fumbled but eventually cleared. The ref eventually blew, half time was very much needed I thought.
During the interval we finished our beverage and had a grand chat with a ground hopping chap. We covered various subjects including the noise of Crass, the joys of reading and of course the many grounds we have in the North-West and how rewarding this non-league football is. Good stuff all-round until, rather rudely, the players came out and started playing football again, ooh the rotten sods (wink, wink).
An early low strike by the visitors was followed by some good pace and well-spread play albeit with little in-roads made. A defensive blunder at Liverpool's rear allowed an Irlam bod to crack a shot but again it was a tame effort. The guests were not making the most of the one man advantage but crikey Irlam weren't half putting in a shift. The game remained a hard one to call and at one point it became a drab affair, duller in fact than Quasimodo's love life or that notorious book 'Cardboard Box Making' by Andy Murray - now that is dull. A push by the Reds, a low shot and easily saved. Calum Woods came next, he broke the coils of the offside web but it was the night sky that welcomed the 'way off target' ball. Within minutes the visiting No 7 (Stephen Milne) produced silky tootsies and weaved through two players and launched a shot, the crossbar was hammered. The game looked set to stay as it was with both units incapable of any penetration and very much in need of some managerial Viagra or time to reacquaint themselves with that fine goal-scoring love manual 'The Joy Of Nets'. It was just one of those nights it seemed, and the misses kept coming with AFCL's sub knocking a free-kick just wide and then Irlam having another dig but straight at the goalie who fumbled but saw his defenders eventually clear. A brace of Blue throws came, bugger all was the result as was the case with a couple of quick breaks at either end that fizzled at the last.
We were now chewing on the dog-ends of a testing affair when the AFC Liverpool lads had one last fling and when a hopeful cross came in the home goalkeeper for some reason chose to save cum catch rather than just thwack clear. It was a mess, the fumble allowed the ball to drop at the feet of the awaiting Joseph Whittington who accepted the gift, put a bullet in the head of the game and killed it stone dead. Within minutes, after an awful free-kick we were done and after a chat with a punky comrade who we had somehow missed all night we headed homeward. This was far from a classic and both teams produced much industry with little end sheen. The Man of The Match tonight goes to the No 7 of AFC Liverpool (Stephen Milne) who huffed and puffed with zest, had a fine work rate and made one or two fine runs that stood out from a gruelling encounter.
FINAL THOUGHT - A shock result in some respects on a night that was a test of both teams character. It is never easy to play against ten men and anything but a win is considered a failure which, in itself, brings added pressure. AFC Liverpool showed good consistency and stuck to the task well but they will need to sharpen their striking razors to avoid letting many potential victories turn into unnecessary regrets. Irlam displayed fine promise tonight and if a full squad works as hard as the ten did tonight I am happy to go on record and predict a top 8 finish. They showed a resilience here and, even though down in numbers, still created chances to get something from the game. If I was a betting man I reckon they will finish in a respectable position and have many positives from the long arduous season. One thing is for sure, we will be back down Silver Street and hopefully catching up with AFC Liverpool a few more times too - it would be ruddy vulgar not too!
During the first period of the globe's revolution neither team established any ascendancy with an early sight-setter by The Reds No 11 (Daniel Boden) a meagre snippet of entertainment. Rapid rushes came either end with both teams passing and pushing and looking for that initial sniff of net glory. Irlam had the first opportunity of any substance when their No 10 (Jordan Icely) sneaked in but was thwarted at the last gasp by a quick off the line mitter. From here parity was re-established and this looked all set to be a closely contested chess match when suddenly, like a bishop on a rabid evangelical quest, Irlam's No 5 (Ryan Ledson) halted the opponents break with what is best described as a sinful tackle and was sent off the playing board in no uncertain terms. To add insult to injury, salt of the most spiteful kind was rubbed into the gaping wound when No 9 (Kevin Edgar) stepped up and curled the free-kick around the defensive wall and found the bottom corner of the net. It was a double blow that needed to be met with resilience and character something that Irlam displayed in abundance over the rest of the match with a distinct stubbornness not to be underestimated. A close in header was a great way to respond but Liverpool's No 1 (Dominic Garner) was equal to the task and made a fine reaction save although he failed to get to the next shot but his trusty upright came to the rescue as it was clattered with sincere might.
Good application by the Blues made sure they held their own but it was more than apparent that AFC Liverpool had one or two players quite capable of breaking the pattern and grabbing a second killer strike. This duly happened when No 8 (Calum Woods) was quick to counter, showed an unselfish streak and crossed to Kevin Edgar who was only denied by a shot by a late block that maybe saved the day. Seconds later No 10 (Deklan Anthony Hill) was through but weakly toe-poked his attempt on goal and allowed the keeper to make a regulation save. Next and No 7 (Stephen Milne) surged with intent, beat 2 players and squeezed in a cross from the touchline, somehow the Irlam back bods read the situation well and cleared the peril only for Edgar to try his luck moments later with a punt that missed the goal but kept the home squad on the back foot. Things seemed to be picking up when, from positive light, blackness descended as the floodlights overhead went out and the game was duly halted. We grabbed the chance to slurp some tea and move our rears to the opposite side of the ground whereupon we awaited the outcome. At last a flicker came, a glow grew and the ref let things get back underway. The players and the light loving moths commenced their action. 2 rough fouls by Irlam impeded impetus but the same team somehow cultivated a snap shot that was saved and fumbled but eventually cleared. The ref eventually blew, half time was very much needed I thought.
During the interval we finished our beverage and had a grand chat with a ground hopping chap. We covered various subjects including the noise of Crass, the joys of reading and of course the many grounds we have in the North-West and how rewarding this non-league football is. Good stuff all-round until, rather rudely, the players came out and started playing football again, ooh the rotten sods (wink, wink).
An early low strike by the visitors was followed by some good pace and well-spread play albeit with little in-roads made. A defensive blunder at Liverpool's rear allowed an Irlam bod to crack a shot but again it was a tame effort. The guests were not making the most of the one man advantage but crikey Irlam weren't half putting in a shift. The game remained a hard one to call and at one point it became a drab affair, duller in fact than Quasimodo's love life or that notorious book 'Cardboard Box Making' by Andy Murray - now that is dull. A push by the Reds, a low shot and easily saved. Calum Woods came next, he broke the coils of the offside web but it was the night sky that welcomed the 'way off target' ball. Within minutes the visiting No 7 (Stephen Milne) produced silky tootsies and weaved through two players and launched a shot, the crossbar was hammered. The game looked set to stay as it was with both units incapable of any penetration and very much in need of some managerial Viagra or time to reacquaint themselves with that fine goal-scoring love manual 'The Joy Of Nets'. It was just one of those nights it seemed, and the misses kept coming with AFCL's sub knocking a free-kick just wide and then Irlam having another dig but straight at the goalie who fumbled but saw his defenders eventually clear. A brace of Blue throws came, bugger all was the result as was the case with a couple of quick breaks at either end that fizzled at the last.
We were now chewing on the dog-ends of a testing affair when the AFC Liverpool lads had one last fling and when a hopeful cross came in the home goalkeeper for some reason chose to save cum catch rather than just thwack clear. It was a mess, the fumble allowed the ball to drop at the feet of the awaiting Joseph Whittington who accepted the gift, put a bullet in the head of the game and killed it stone dead. Within minutes, after an awful free-kick we were done and after a chat with a punky comrade who we had somehow missed all night we headed homeward. This was far from a classic and both teams produced much industry with little end sheen. The Man of The Match tonight goes to the No 7 of AFC Liverpool (Stephen Milne) who huffed and puffed with zest, had a fine work rate and made one or two fine runs that stood out from a gruelling encounter.
FINAL THOUGHT - A shock result in some respects on a night that was a test of both teams character. It is never easy to play against ten men and anything but a win is considered a failure which, in itself, brings added pressure. AFC Liverpool showed good consistency and stuck to the task well but they will need to sharpen their striking razors to avoid letting many potential victories turn into unnecessary regrets. Irlam displayed fine promise tonight and if a full squad works as hard as the ten did tonight I am happy to go on record and predict a top 8 finish. They showed a resilience here and, even though down in numbers, still created chances to get something from the game. If I was a betting man I reckon they will finish in a respectable position and have many positives from the long arduous season. One thing is for sure, we will be back down Silver Street and hopefully catching up with AFC Liverpool a few more times too - it would be ruddy vulgar not too!
Monday, 28 August 2017
THE WEST TEST GETS A 'GRADE A' VERDICT
28th August 2017 - West Chorlton & Didsbury 4 v 0 Runcorn Linnets FC - I am 52 years old today, that is over half a century of awkwardness, striving for balance and always piddling against the grain. It has been a long punky haul and I have seen many doors slam in my face due to honesty and passion - it happens. I have also been fortunate enough to have many fine opportunities arise and also have a desire strong enough to always want to put back - hence these reports - you gotta try. The morn had been lovely, a full English at Sainsbury's with the missus was ruddy lovely, a walk looking for some shrooms was gentle and semi-successful. A quick cuppa was had, a small chill and out we went, in the hope of a good installment of soccer at a localish non-league ground I am quite fond of. The weather was ruddy glorious and as we took up our peeper points with tea in hand we nattered away to each other and the arriving Stu of STP Records. The teams built up a pre-match sweat (not hard in this heat) and went in, re-appeared and locked horns.
The early bird pressure came from the flapping Linnets with a whole heap of industrious work going on. A long ball ball that should have posed no problems saw a yellow card issued with the resultant free-kick weak and without direction. Alert interplay by the visitors, with Paul Shanley the main instigator, saw a cross come and just miss a rising bonse - now that was close! WDC offered a quick riposte, Nico Evangelinos crossed for No 9 (Tom Bailey) who nudged goalward with the ball deflected over. The West followed up the sprightly move with another attack that saw Evangelinos roaming forth on another troubling sortie before getting dragged down in a most unsightly fashion. The bonus punt was straight at the keeper - I expected better. Within seconds a break for the hosts was on, the offside trap was sprung, Saul Henderson chased down an escaping ball, the goalkeeper tried to get their first but was coolly chipped and a classy goal was had - 1-0 to The West and one up for the Beef. The Linnets flocked together and pecked back, a couple of chances came and went but fortunes seemed to be changing. Their opponents though were on good form today and out of the hustle Matty Kay appeared and let fly a shot that was well telegraphed and easy to read. The keeper however had the wrong glasses on and somehow fumbled the ball which allowed the poaching Henderson to sneak in and grab a second. Maybe less stylish than the first but they all count and this was a real turn-up for the unreliable books. The home bods came again, lax defending and hesitancy allowed Evangelinos to have a crack that, luckily for the guests, flashed high into the trees.
A scrappy period ensued, the black and white army though were still dictating play and a free-kick and free header could easily have given rise to a 3 goal cushion as could a connected volley by Evangelinos who once more knocked the ball high. The Linnets were getting plucked here and if they didn't take care they would be well and truly fu***** too - ooh nasty, I am sure you know what I mean! The home squad were playing superbly today and it was only the final gloss that was lacking to stop this game from being a sheer whitewash. More touchline debates came, 'Ming Mong' is term I have never heard, I consulted the 'off the ball dictionary', I think it means 'useless dickhead' - I could be wrong! A fast break again came the way of the leading team, Henderson in, the keeper blocked the effort and a return nut put the ball goalward - the result, a blinding save to applaud. A corner came, a scramble in the goalmouth should have been dealt with, the ball bounced about and then Nico Evangelinos screwdrived the ball home and brought up an unassailable and well deserved lead. Magical. The Linnets offered a weak shot in response followed by a free-kick that failed to ring any bells of alarm. They were still trying but then the todger of ill fortune was dangled, the piss flowed onto the chips of the chirpers and a purely awful challenge saw Tom Hardwick receive a straight red and pay an early visit to the tub. Arguments rose between fans and managers, the language used was not what you would hear in a nunnery and the game carried on regardless. Unbelievably the ten-men strugglers came on, produced some final pressure but failed to find any consolation whatsoever. The half was done.
A chinwag and a soak up of the sapping rays, by heck I should have brought my sun-lounger and open crotch speedos - then again, it is a family game I suppose.
The second half kicked off in wretched fashion, a brace of bookings and some general loose play hardly made for a fine spectacle. The first real attack came the Linnets way, a butter smooth build up allowed Shanley to use a light touch that went agonisingly close but just had too much elevation. The green and yellows strove to get back into this one but WDC caught them on the hop, Saul Henderson again was in a one on one situation and displayed good strength, wonderful poise and a clinical eye to bag a stunning goal and earn a greatly deserved hat-trick. A lunging tackle came soon after, the Linnets No 6 was the offender but somehow escaped the book, you can imagine the words exchanged from the dug-outs - like Bernard Manning in a whorehouse no less! The guests came on again, a push, nutmeg, handball claim and a poor end product - somehow the Gods were not smiling fondly on the travelers today and maybe the rumours of the Managers association with the devil are only too true. Another lull, Runcorn ran themselves ragged and earned the odd glimpse of goal but the home defence was stout and tighter than the buttons on Neville Southall's shirt (see online pictures of the ex-Everton mittman, now turned fatman, to fully appreciate the simile). The rub of the green would not change and when the Dids broke again it was only the athletic goalkeeping brilliance of Terence Smith that denied No 8 a fine nutted strike. Soon after the home sub Oscar was twisting and turning (and no doubt putting his hips in peril of an arthritic attack) before releasing the ball and allowing a colleague to fire forth. The shot didn't ripple mesh but crikey surely another goal was coming. Alas no, the time ticked on, the game balanced and hit a flatline and after another great save from the Runcorn netter and a few half chances a halt was called and all sun-kissed onlookers could weave their merry way home.
Anyone claiming to have predicted today's scoreline is either the biggest lying git alive or possessed of things best left unmentioned. This was a turn-up as regards the the end result but by heck West Didsbury and Chorlton were in a commanding mood today. Man of the Match should go to the hat-trick hero but these goals aren't possible without the grafters in the team. My choice is the home teams No 5 (Gary Lilley) who produced steam from his rear, ran like a rabbit on sex-hormones and hustled and bustled like a fly trying to be first to the cows rectum. It was a big-hearted performance and was carried out in such an understated way that many may have missed the input - not me, applause sir, applause!
FINAL THOUGHT - A 4 goal difference in a game that appeared on paper as a tight affair shows what tales of the unexpected we can encounter in the mad non-league world. You just never know. Despite this setback Runcorn Linnets will do fine this season and I bet any money they will be somewhere in the shake come the last dregs of the season. As for West Didsbury and Chorlton, well given this evidence they can actually win this league and go on to some mighty fine things although one or two members of the bench may need serious tranquilisers along the way to help them cope with the undulating levels of excitement. It is a growing club both on and off the pitch, I will return several times this season, if I get more of the same I will be a man without complaint, unless of course I get bit on the arse by a winter wasp and grow a third buttock. It may sound far fetched but on today's evidence....anything can happen.
The early bird pressure came from the flapping Linnets with a whole heap of industrious work going on. A long ball ball that should have posed no problems saw a yellow card issued with the resultant free-kick weak and without direction. Alert interplay by the visitors, with Paul Shanley the main instigator, saw a cross come and just miss a rising bonse - now that was close! WDC offered a quick riposte, Nico Evangelinos crossed for No 9 (Tom Bailey) who nudged goalward with the ball deflected over. The West followed up the sprightly move with another attack that saw Evangelinos roaming forth on another troubling sortie before getting dragged down in a most unsightly fashion. The bonus punt was straight at the keeper - I expected better. Within seconds a break for the hosts was on, the offside trap was sprung, Saul Henderson chased down an escaping ball, the goalkeeper tried to get their first but was coolly chipped and a classy goal was had - 1-0 to The West and one up for the Beef. The Linnets flocked together and pecked back, a couple of chances came and went but fortunes seemed to be changing. Their opponents though were on good form today and out of the hustle Matty Kay appeared and let fly a shot that was well telegraphed and easy to read. The keeper however had the wrong glasses on and somehow fumbled the ball which allowed the poaching Henderson to sneak in and grab a second. Maybe less stylish than the first but they all count and this was a real turn-up for the unreliable books. The home bods came again, lax defending and hesitancy allowed Evangelinos to have a crack that, luckily for the guests, flashed high into the trees.
A scrappy period ensued, the black and white army though were still dictating play and a free-kick and free header could easily have given rise to a 3 goal cushion as could a connected volley by Evangelinos who once more knocked the ball high. The Linnets were getting plucked here and if they didn't take care they would be well and truly fu***** too - ooh nasty, I am sure you know what I mean! The home squad were playing superbly today and it was only the final gloss that was lacking to stop this game from being a sheer whitewash. More touchline debates came, 'Ming Mong' is term I have never heard, I consulted the 'off the ball dictionary', I think it means 'useless dickhead' - I could be wrong! A fast break again came the way of the leading team, Henderson in, the keeper blocked the effort and a return nut put the ball goalward - the result, a blinding save to applaud. A corner came, a scramble in the goalmouth should have been dealt with, the ball bounced about and then Nico Evangelinos screwdrived the ball home and brought up an unassailable and well deserved lead. Magical. The Linnets offered a weak shot in response followed by a free-kick that failed to ring any bells of alarm. They were still trying but then the todger of ill fortune was dangled, the piss flowed onto the chips of the chirpers and a purely awful challenge saw Tom Hardwick receive a straight red and pay an early visit to the tub. Arguments rose between fans and managers, the language used was not what you would hear in a nunnery and the game carried on regardless. Unbelievably the ten-men strugglers came on, produced some final pressure but failed to find any consolation whatsoever. The half was done.
A chinwag and a soak up of the sapping rays, by heck I should have brought my sun-lounger and open crotch speedos - then again, it is a family game I suppose.
The second half kicked off in wretched fashion, a brace of bookings and some general loose play hardly made for a fine spectacle. The first real attack came the Linnets way, a butter smooth build up allowed Shanley to use a light touch that went agonisingly close but just had too much elevation. The green and yellows strove to get back into this one but WDC caught them on the hop, Saul Henderson again was in a one on one situation and displayed good strength, wonderful poise and a clinical eye to bag a stunning goal and earn a greatly deserved hat-trick. A lunging tackle came soon after, the Linnets No 6 was the offender but somehow escaped the book, you can imagine the words exchanged from the dug-outs - like Bernard Manning in a whorehouse no less! The guests came on again, a push, nutmeg, handball claim and a poor end product - somehow the Gods were not smiling fondly on the travelers today and maybe the rumours of the Managers association with the devil are only too true. Another lull, Runcorn ran themselves ragged and earned the odd glimpse of goal but the home defence was stout and tighter than the buttons on Neville Southall's shirt (see online pictures of the ex-Everton mittman, now turned fatman, to fully appreciate the simile). The rub of the green would not change and when the Dids broke again it was only the athletic goalkeeping brilliance of Terence Smith that denied No 8 a fine nutted strike. Soon after the home sub Oscar was twisting and turning (and no doubt putting his hips in peril of an arthritic attack) before releasing the ball and allowing a colleague to fire forth. The shot didn't ripple mesh but crikey surely another goal was coming. Alas no, the time ticked on, the game balanced and hit a flatline and after another great save from the Runcorn netter and a few half chances a halt was called and all sun-kissed onlookers could weave their merry way home.
Anyone claiming to have predicted today's scoreline is either the biggest lying git alive or possessed of things best left unmentioned. This was a turn-up as regards the the end result but by heck West Didsbury and Chorlton were in a commanding mood today. Man of the Match should go to the hat-trick hero but these goals aren't possible without the grafters in the team. My choice is the home teams No 5 (Gary Lilley) who produced steam from his rear, ran like a rabbit on sex-hormones and hustled and bustled like a fly trying to be first to the cows rectum. It was a big-hearted performance and was carried out in such an understated way that many may have missed the input - not me, applause sir, applause!
FINAL THOUGHT - A 4 goal difference in a game that appeared on paper as a tight affair shows what tales of the unexpected we can encounter in the mad non-league world. You just never know. Despite this setback Runcorn Linnets will do fine this season and I bet any money they will be somewhere in the shake come the last dregs of the season. As for West Didsbury and Chorlton, well given this evidence they can actually win this league and go on to some mighty fine things although one or two members of the bench may need serious tranquilisers along the way to help them cope with the undulating levels of excitement. It is a growing club both on and off the pitch, I will return several times this season, if I get more of the same I will be a man without complaint, unless of course I get bit on the arse by a winter wasp and grow a third buttock. It may sound far fetched but on today's evidence....anything can happen.
Sunday, 27 August 2017
NERVE PILLS AT NEW MILLS - A MUST
26th August 2017 - New Mills FC 2 v 2 Nelson FC - A previous night of beer, varied noise and an attempt to raise some conkers for some worthy wildlife charities saw me wake up at the crack, scrape my pimpled posterior from the pit and indulge in a semi-active morn. The punk pit from where I primarily attempt to stretch boundaries and expose new vibrations is where I do most of my huffing and puffing and you can imagine the struggle and the need to switch off - God bless the cure-all that is non-league football. Forget those greasy snake-oil salesmen, just get to a match and lose yourself in the game. Today I had a leisurely walk to the train station, had a good read on the platform (Somerset Maugham is a genius), got off the other end (and a Common Field Grasshopper hopped on, where's he off to then) and had a quick mooch in the Sett Valley (only 12 fungi but all appreciated), had another read on a local churchyard (man what glorious sun) and entered the ground and enjoyed tea, chips and burger (bloody wonderful) and read some more. The punters and players arrived, eventually a game of football took place and here is another Fungalised take on matters which I hope serves you well (it is nice to put a small bit back).
The gold and black of The Millers caught the initial peeper with an early shot from No 11 (George Blackwell) flying over the crossbar. With the twitching of a gnat's love muscle (oh those sexy gnats) the same player wormed inward, glimpsed mesh and forced a one handed save from the luminous green mittman. The blues of Nelson addressed the opening imbalance and set about some good hustling and off the ball movement. Despite this New Mills found the net first with good 'on the deck' football that saw a ball tossed in and the globe rippling the mesh - alas the goalkeeper was deemed to be fouled and the strike was duly negated - bugger. The careful build up play of the home bods was now ensnaring the eye and making life difficult for the guests and one such snippet of play saw some cultivated preparation result in a cross that found the head of No 9 (Scott Samuel) who just lacked the killer's ruthlessness - close but no blood drawn. Nelson were doing well to stay in this and managed a snap shot of their own that didn't trouble the keeper but kept their opponents honest. Again New Mills No 11 was the danger man, weaving a merry Hell in the corner and crossing with class that somehow eluded and cranial connection. The return cross was equally class and again bore no bonse-based fruit. No 5 (Joseph Armstrong) tried a pot shot seconds later, indicating the first shoots of frustration, it didn't cause any peril and Nelson then resisted and persisted and had a good cross thrown into the box themselves but it was defended, cleared and allowed the NM boys to counter and win a corner. The ball was swung in, a defensive head deflected the ball, Scott Samuel connected, over the bar the ball went and a golden chance missed.
A rapier attack from Nelson now came, No 8 and No 9 combining with the ball fizzing across goal and just aching for an incoming attacker to nudge home - nothing doing. Back up the other end, Blackwell was at it again, he linked up with a colleague, got the ball back and spun on a ten bob bit. A shot came, man that was a close but the save was firm. Again New Mills came, their effective No 4 (Kirk Arrow) lost patience, twanged the leg bow and let fly. The ball moved in the air, the keeper did well to get his body behind the ball but it pinged loose and as quick as a flash .... pounced and slotted home with ease. 1-0 and perhaps deserved, but from the kick off Nelson were focused, rushed forth put a cross in and bang, the crust of No 7 (Alexander Mullen) sent the ball homeward and we were all back to square one. The latter end of the half was upon us, New Mills were hungry to repair the recent damage, Blackwell troubled further and got a shot in that resulted in a corner. Another punt, another corner, a shot cum cross and over - danger quelled. A soft free-kick went the other way, equally soft defending allowed No 9 (Bradley Kay) to sneak in and nearly pinch the lead - now that was a stark warning if ever I saw one. No 8 for Mills paid back the red light moment with a a crack at goal but was harassed at the last and ballooned the effort high. One more shot for Nelson and the fascinating half was over - I need some tranquillisers - this was a thriller my fellow Miller.
Some pop and a quiet moment and another quick read - what a fine book.
The teams re-appeared, one chap was late (darn those dodgy bladders) and an early shout for a penalty by the home team nearly had a few of their fans also leaking with excitement. Out of the blue Nelson broke, the home goaler was off his line and blocked, the ball flew high and could of gone anywhere luckily it was defended well and danger was deadened. Now a minor lull, both teams re-adjusting to the climate of the game after the break. Nelson were dangerous on the counter, one such break forced a sprawl and save by the Mills No 1 (Dean Williams). The Millers worked back in after several more scares and a brace of punts from the eager Scott Samuel could easily have found the back of the net with the volley well struck and the stab at goal just deflected wide. An idiot scuffle saw Nelson's No 9 get suckered into trouble and he was lucky to stay on the pitch as head contact was made and some thespianism dramatised the contact. I think the end decision was fair though and sense, in its loosest form, was resumed. A spice was entering the match though, niggled temperaments were being exposed, someone could easily blow a fuse here and piddle on any hopes their team-mates may have of grabbing a 3 point bonus. New Mills nearly paid dearly when Kay crept in with a crafty header and I think the home captain was bang on the mark when he raucously informed his colleagues to 'cut the shit'. The referee, during this tetchy period, made some moot decisions, all against the Millers they were and I did wonder which Travel Lodge he and the Nelson manager were booked into (ooh the fruity buggers). These things happen and sometimes the rub of the green can seem to fall one way and not the other but over the course of a season all gets leveled out I am sure. Next up and a free-kick to Nelson, the ball was deflected over. A corner followed and a defensive crust cleared with 2 ripostes the other end, from Arrow and Blackwell respectively, which were followed by a sizzling cross and a close in tap in that somehow missed the target - crikey, what fine action.
New Mills started to dominate proceedings and looked to be going for the jugular when quite unexpectedly a smash and grab break came and Nelson's No 4 (Anthony McLoughlin) was allowed to creep into space and slide the ball home. A shocker indeed and indicating that perseverance pays! Now we saw Nelson show some solid defiant hunger, New Mills release a boost of red light urgency. The clock was ticking away and with only 1 minute left the ball was played to perfection and a choice header by Dennis Sherriff made this game all square. Wonderful stuff and the closing minutes saw no let up in action with the hosts throwing their all into winning this one. A cross from Arrow allowed Lofthouse to shoot, a corner was had but the contact made went wide and a final shot from Blackwell flew way over and left punters with their tickers in their gobs. At last we were done, this had been a competitive peach with some real honest and influential performances. Man of the Match this time though goes to the silky, mobile and keen of eye, a player who rarely put a foot wrong and had a strong footballing head that saw space that others were overlooking. Step forth New Mill's Maestro (Kirk Arrow) and accept a good pat on the back for a very rewarding contribution.
FINAL THOUGHT - In the corner shop of football action you should take your eyes off the top shelf and stop leering at those John Motson Nudes and Gerald Sinstadt Love Manuals and get your peepers in the bargain basement basket where, for a measly sum, you get top end action that never fails to delight. I took my chances yet again and witnessed a fabulous match that could have gone either way at the last but ended, in what I deemed, a bloody fair draw. Those in attendance must surely agree that this was a pleasure and both squads should be applauded on their efforts. I reckon we have two tough nuts to crack here and no-one will be getting an easy run against them provided the hands of Lady Luck play fair. Remember folks, non league doesn't mean crap football - it means reality, honesty and quality entertainment. Now get up, sell your Dickie Davies Erotica Collection and spend your hard earned conkers on some real sport.
The gold and black of The Millers caught the initial peeper with an early shot from No 11 (George Blackwell) flying over the crossbar. With the twitching of a gnat's love muscle (oh those sexy gnats) the same player wormed inward, glimpsed mesh and forced a one handed save from the luminous green mittman. The blues of Nelson addressed the opening imbalance and set about some good hustling and off the ball movement. Despite this New Mills found the net first with good 'on the deck' football that saw a ball tossed in and the globe rippling the mesh - alas the goalkeeper was deemed to be fouled and the strike was duly negated - bugger. The careful build up play of the home bods was now ensnaring the eye and making life difficult for the guests and one such snippet of play saw some cultivated preparation result in a cross that found the head of No 9 (Scott Samuel) who just lacked the killer's ruthlessness - close but no blood drawn. Nelson were doing well to stay in this and managed a snap shot of their own that didn't trouble the keeper but kept their opponents honest. Again New Mills No 11 was the danger man, weaving a merry Hell in the corner and crossing with class that somehow eluded and cranial connection. The return cross was equally class and again bore no bonse-based fruit. No 5 (Joseph Armstrong) tried a pot shot seconds later, indicating the first shoots of frustration, it didn't cause any peril and Nelson then resisted and persisted and had a good cross thrown into the box themselves but it was defended, cleared and allowed the NM boys to counter and win a corner. The ball was swung in, a defensive head deflected the ball, Scott Samuel connected, over the bar the ball went and a golden chance missed.
A rapier attack from Nelson now came, No 8 and No 9 combining with the ball fizzing across goal and just aching for an incoming attacker to nudge home - nothing doing. Back up the other end, Blackwell was at it again, he linked up with a colleague, got the ball back and spun on a ten bob bit. A shot came, man that was a close but the save was firm. Again New Mills came, their effective No 4 (Kirk Arrow) lost patience, twanged the leg bow and let fly. The ball moved in the air, the keeper did well to get his body behind the ball but it pinged loose and as quick as a flash .... pounced and slotted home with ease. 1-0 and perhaps deserved, but from the kick off Nelson were focused, rushed forth put a cross in and bang, the crust of No 7 (Alexander Mullen) sent the ball homeward and we were all back to square one. The latter end of the half was upon us, New Mills were hungry to repair the recent damage, Blackwell troubled further and got a shot in that resulted in a corner. Another punt, another corner, a shot cum cross and over - danger quelled. A soft free-kick went the other way, equally soft defending allowed No 9 (Bradley Kay) to sneak in and nearly pinch the lead - now that was a stark warning if ever I saw one. No 8 for Mills paid back the red light moment with a a crack at goal but was harassed at the last and ballooned the effort high. One more shot for Nelson and the fascinating half was over - I need some tranquillisers - this was a thriller my fellow Miller.
Some pop and a quiet moment and another quick read - what a fine book.
The teams re-appeared, one chap was late (darn those dodgy bladders) and an early shout for a penalty by the home team nearly had a few of their fans also leaking with excitement. Out of the blue Nelson broke, the home goaler was off his line and blocked, the ball flew high and could of gone anywhere luckily it was defended well and danger was deadened. Now a minor lull, both teams re-adjusting to the climate of the game after the break. Nelson were dangerous on the counter, one such break forced a sprawl and save by the Mills No 1 (Dean Williams). The Millers worked back in after several more scares and a brace of punts from the eager Scott Samuel could easily have found the back of the net with the volley well struck and the stab at goal just deflected wide. An idiot scuffle saw Nelson's No 9 get suckered into trouble and he was lucky to stay on the pitch as head contact was made and some thespianism dramatised the contact. I think the end decision was fair though and sense, in its loosest form, was resumed. A spice was entering the match though, niggled temperaments were being exposed, someone could easily blow a fuse here and piddle on any hopes their team-mates may have of grabbing a 3 point bonus. New Mills nearly paid dearly when Kay crept in with a crafty header and I think the home captain was bang on the mark when he raucously informed his colleagues to 'cut the shit'. The referee, during this tetchy period, made some moot decisions, all against the Millers they were and I did wonder which Travel Lodge he and the Nelson manager were booked into (ooh the fruity buggers). These things happen and sometimes the rub of the green can seem to fall one way and not the other but over the course of a season all gets leveled out I am sure. Next up and a free-kick to Nelson, the ball was deflected over. A corner followed and a defensive crust cleared with 2 ripostes the other end, from Arrow and Blackwell respectively, which were followed by a sizzling cross and a close in tap in that somehow missed the target - crikey, what fine action.
New Mills started to dominate proceedings and looked to be going for the jugular when quite unexpectedly a smash and grab break came and Nelson's No 4 (Anthony McLoughlin) was allowed to creep into space and slide the ball home. A shocker indeed and indicating that perseverance pays! Now we saw Nelson show some solid defiant hunger, New Mills release a boost of red light urgency. The clock was ticking away and with only 1 minute left the ball was played to perfection and a choice header by Dennis Sherriff made this game all square. Wonderful stuff and the closing minutes saw no let up in action with the hosts throwing their all into winning this one. A cross from Arrow allowed Lofthouse to shoot, a corner was had but the contact made went wide and a final shot from Blackwell flew way over and left punters with their tickers in their gobs. At last we were done, this had been a competitive peach with some real honest and influential performances. Man of the Match this time though goes to the silky, mobile and keen of eye, a player who rarely put a foot wrong and had a strong footballing head that saw space that others were overlooking. Step forth New Mill's Maestro (Kirk Arrow) and accept a good pat on the back for a very rewarding contribution.
FINAL THOUGHT - In the corner shop of football action you should take your eyes off the top shelf and stop leering at those John Motson Nudes and Gerald Sinstadt Love Manuals and get your peepers in the bargain basement basket where, for a measly sum, you get top end action that never fails to delight. I took my chances yet again and witnessed a fabulous match that could have gone either way at the last but ended, in what I deemed, a bloody fair draw. Those in attendance must surely agree that this was a pleasure and both squads should be applauded on their efforts. I reckon we have two tough nuts to crack here and no-one will be getting an easy run against them provided the hands of Lady Luck play fair. Remember folks, non league doesn't mean crap football - it means reality, honesty and quality entertainment. Now get up, sell your Dickie Davies Erotica Collection and spend your hard earned conkers on some real sport.
Wednesday, 23 August 2017
OPEN WOUNDS - SALTED
22nd August 2017 - West Didsbury & Chorlton 1 v 3 1874 Northwich - After last night's late finish I was hoping one of these teams could get the job done and progress into the next round of the cup and give me good time to get home and rest my tired carcass. The fungus season has snuck upon me, family life is as busy as per, work takes a huge chunk of time and I have a bundle of outstanding tasks that need my attention - oh bugger. Home from work, tea, moth trap checked and last night's match report tidied up, I got dressed and was dropped off at the ground by my two lasses who were going shopping instead of joining me at the ground - ooh the silly tinkers, if they miss a 10 goal classic I will not be held responsible but will accept the kick up the arris I may well get. Tea and chocolate was purchased and my position between the dug-outs was had where I indulged in a lengthy chat with WDC's Assistant Manager (Robert Madden) who was one helluva amiable and busy dude, doing a bit of this, that and 't'other to keep his beloved club...moving forward - can't fault it and as a word of encouragement - 'sod the moaning neighbours'.
To the match and the ball got rolling on the dot with an early free-kick for the visitors. Their No 11 (Taylor Kennerley) delivered well but the defending was stout and the ball was duly head-cracked over. The corner was chucked in and the ball fell loose upon which Kennerley again connected but was denied early triumph by a firm save. A shot came the other end after a throw in and then flick on that allowed Bailey to force a save from the early rising keeper. A breakaway counter came, a close in header was blocked on the line and WDC and all the army breathed a sigh of relief as a pure moment of peril was passed. This was a frenzied start to a crucial cup tie with both teams trying their hardest to string together a punishing sequence of passes that would undoubtedly find end glory. To be honest though, at a pace such as this they would be incredibly fortunate to cultivate such a passage of play. A balance was had, I discussed the game with my touchline neighbour who turned out to be Irlam FC's assistant manager who was doing a bit of observation on forthcoming opposition. A very nice chap who was highly knowledgeable and very committed to his cause without thought of prestige and financial gain, now that does appeal to my punky nature - good lad. Suddenly amid chit chat and on-field bustle 74's persistent No 11 went on another sortie forth. He scorched across the emerald substrate, blazed a deadly accurate cross and allowed Sam Hind to step up and execute the easiest of tap-ins. A well deserved goal if the truth be told but the WDC army are made of stern stuff and pushed back with perspired heave ho despite the guests always a danger on the break.
The game advanced, the Northwich lads were visibly communicating better, their movement up front was eye-catching and when all this was spiced up by the handful that is No 9 (Kyle Riley) one pondered what a hard nights work was ahead for the huffing and puffing hosts. In truth though, the black and white clad squad rallied well with one particular flourish seeing Evangelinos ripping 74's rear a new orifice, duly finding Steer who hurtled in a cross that resulted in a shot from Matty Kay who looped the ball and was as bewildered as the rest of us to see it graze the top of the bar. WDC came again, a fine cross beat all defenders, Evangelinos made contact and blazed over. Up the other end and that pesky No 11 was running riot and contributing to what was a hectic finish to the first 45. In the dying embers the phoenix that is No 10 (Samuel Hind) for 1874 was nearly through, he was thwarted at the last but the home team needed to take heed - this guy was a menace who may just get a real sniff of goal. The referee halted the mania, it was just as well - this was a fizzer.
A chinwag with the Irlam bod, a swill of pop and the teams seemed to appear in no time at all - let's bloody have it.
A mad-dash start, a couple of weak efforts came the guests way, the home team seemed to be getting a tad frustrated although I still felt this one could go any way. This feeling was reinforced further when Tom Bailey of the West shot through and brought out the best from the oppositions keeper who sprawled well and kept his team with their noses in front. Next and a corner for the Dids that led to a blazer for Hall after a goalkeeping blip that caused a minor uproar from certain sections of the crowd. The intensity rose, genuine chances became a rare commodity with the hosts having to walk a severe tightrope and make sure their opponents didn't deliver a suckerpunch and steal the end prize. The pressure applied by West Didsbury & Chorlton was convincing to say the least and the fruit of their labours' was plucked with consummate ease when a 74 error allowed Tom Bailey to slip through, round the keeper and tidily slide the ball home. The ref spoke to the liner, there was a minor debate and breath was held - no fear, the goal was good - game back on.
Desire now dictated and it was apparent the the Northwich players were on a lull that they needed to snap out of. The visitors were being outworked and out hustled but eventually got a foot back in the door with a few hopeful knocks into the hosts' box. The WDC lads pushed back and advanced but the ball was lost, a break had and a corner eventually won by the industrious 1874 'erberts. The corner was swung in, the home defense was dozing and at the back post Jake Parker enjoyed free territory and nutted home with ease. His comrades went wild, a shirt was raised, a mindless booking was given - but who cares, the lead was smashed and grabbed during a time when the opposition were brandishing the cosh. As if this wasn't a cruel blow to the belief of The West then moments later their No 3 (Richmond Botchey) did indeed commit a botch job with a tackle that was just mis-timed and earned him a red card. I thought it was a trifle harsh but there ya go, the hill facing WDC just got a whole lot steeper. The free-kick that came from this faux pas was swift and tupped against the underside of the bar, salt looked to be added to the gaping wound but the ball stayed out and hope was still in the air for the local community.
The last dregs now came, WDC displayed cracking spirit and kept this a highly competitive affair. Only a goon would count them out of this one. 1874 Northwich though are made of sterner stuff and flourished late on and in the very last minute a cross field dissection took place with a ball that found Adam Whitlock who latched on and cracked home the killer blow. The travelling support erupted, shouts of 'Wembley' filled the balmy night air and although the defiant home squad had one last chance that should have closed the gap the game was up with the man in the middle confirming matters seconds later. A good game this, some solid performances but for me, one of the smallest defenders in the league deserves the nod tonight, namely 1874's No 2 (Paul Connor). The amount of work this lad did, the amount of times he got his noggin on the ball and his quiet efficiency all deserve mention and so he gets a deserved nod and best wishes for all future efforts - fair play to you sir.
FINAL THOUGHT - The West Didsbury and Chorlton crew have something special going on here, both on and off the pitch and a big shout out needs to be had for all their efforts. Football wise they are a very capable outfit with one or two players shining bright and a few others just needing to find true form to make the team the complete package. I reckon in a few months we may have a force to be seriously reckoned with and one who may be pushing for a top 5 finish. 1874 Northwich were my tip to win the league this year, a tough ask but the team, like that withering and cranky cook Fanny Craddock, have all the ingredients to stir up a stink and turn the stomachs of many hopeful dabblers who have an eye on the pie of victory. The spice of pace, the sugar sweetness of skill and a reliable confidence within the crusts of all expose a team that will be too tough to swallow for many - the advice is - watch this space Johnnie.
To the match and the ball got rolling on the dot with an early free-kick for the visitors. Their No 11 (Taylor Kennerley) delivered well but the defending was stout and the ball was duly head-cracked over. The corner was chucked in and the ball fell loose upon which Kennerley again connected but was denied early triumph by a firm save. A shot came the other end after a throw in and then flick on that allowed Bailey to force a save from the early rising keeper. A breakaway counter came, a close in header was blocked on the line and WDC and all the army breathed a sigh of relief as a pure moment of peril was passed. This was a frenzied start to a crucial cup tie with both teams trying their hardest to string together a punishing sequence of passes that would undoubtedly find end glory. To be honest though, at a pace such as this they would be incredibly fortunate to cultivate such a passage of play. A balance was had, I discussed the game with my touchline neighbour who turned out to be Irlam FC's assistant manager who was doing a bit of observation on forthcoming opposition. A very nice chap who was highly knowledgeable and very committed to his cause without thought of prestige and financial gain, now that does appeal to my punky nature - good lad. Suddenly amid chit chat and on-field bustle 74's persistent No 11 went on another sortie forth. He scorched across the emerald substrate, blazed a deadly accurate cross and allowed Sam Hind to step up and execute the easiest of tap-ins. A well deserved goal if the truth be told but the WDC army are made of stern stuff and pushed back with perspired heave ho despite the guests always a danger on the break.
The game advanced, the Northwich lads were visibly communicating better, their movement up front was eye-catching and when all this was spiced up by the handful that is No 9 (Kyle Riley) one pondered what a hard nights work was ahead for the huffing and puffing hosts. In truth though, the black and white clad squad rallied well with one particular flourish seeing Evangelinos ripping 74's rear a new orifice, duly finding Steer who hurtled in a cross that resulted in a shot from Matty Kay who looped the ball and was as bewildered as the rest of us to see it graze the top of the bar. WDC came again, a fine cross beat all defenders, Evangelinos made contact and blazed over. Up the other end and that pesky No 11 was running riot and contributing to what was a hectic finish to the first 45. In the dying embers the phoenix that is No 10 (Samuel Hind) for 1874 was nearly through, he was thwarted at the last but the home team needed to take heed - this guy was a menace who may just get a real sniff of goal. The referee halted the mania, it was just as well - this was a fizzer.
A chinwag with the Irlam bod, a swill of pop and the teams seemed to appear in no time at all - let's bloody have it.
A mad-dash start, a couple of weak efforts came the guests way, the home team seemed to be getting a tad frustrated although I still felt this one could go any way. This feeling was reinforced further when Tom Bailey of the West shot through and brought out the best from the oppositions keeper who sprawled well and kept his team with their noses in front. Next and a corner for the Dids that led to a blazer for Hall after a goalkeeping blip that caused a minor uproar from certain sections of the crowd. The intensity rose, genuine chances became a rare commodity with the hosts having to walk a severe tightrope and make sure their opponents didn't deliver a suckerpunch and steal the end prize. The pressure applied by West Didsbury & Chorlton was convincing to say the least and the fruit of their labours' was plucked with consummate ease when a 74 error allowed Tom Bailey to slip through, round the keeper and tidily slide the ball home. The ref spoke to the liner, there was a minor debate and breath was held - no fear, the goal was good - game back on.
Desire now dictated and it was apparent the the Northwich players were on a lull that they needed to snap out of. The visitors were being outworked and out hustled but eventually got a foot back in the door with a few hopeful knocks into the hosts' box. The WDC lads pushed back and advanced but the ball was lost, a break had and a corner eventually won by the industrious 1874 'erberts. The corner was swung in, the home defense was dozing and at the back post Jake Parker enjoyed free territory and nutted home with ease. His comrades went wild, a shirt was raised, a mindless booking was given - but who cares, the lead was smashed and grabbed during a time when the opposition were brandishing the cosh. As if this wasn't a cruel blow to the belief of The West then moments later their No 3 (Richmond Botchey) did indeed commit a botch job with a tackle that was just mis-timed and earned him a red card. I thought it was a trifle harsh but there ya go, the hill facing WDC just got a whole lot steeper. The free-kick that came from this faux pas was swift and tupped against the underside of the bar, salt looked to be added to the gaping wound but the ball stayed out and hope was still in the air for the local community.
The last dregs now came, WDC displayed cracking spirit and kept this a highly competitive affair. Only a goon would count them out of this one. 1874 Northwich though are made of sterner stuff and flourished late on and in the very last minute a cross field dissection took place with a ball that found Adam Whitlock who latched on and cracked home the killer blow. The travelling support erupted, shouts of 'Wembley' filled the balmy night air and although the defiant home squad had one last chance that should have closed the gap the game was up with the man in the middle confirming matters seconds later. A good game this, some solid performances but for me, one of the smallest defenders in the league deserves the nod tonight, namely 1874's No 2 (Paul Connor). The amount of work this lad did, the amount of times he got his noggin on the ball and his quiet efficiency all deserve mention and so he gets a deserved nod and best wishes for all future efforts - fair play to you sir.
FINAL THOUGHT - The West Didsbury and Chorlton crew have something special going on here, both on and off the pitch and a big shout out needs to be had for all their efforts. Football wise they are a very capable outfit with one or two players shining bright and a few others just needing to find true form to make the team the complete package. I reckon in a few months we may have a force to be seriously reckoned with and one who may be pushing for a top 5 finish. 1874 Northwich were my tip to win the league this year, a tough ask but the team, like that withering and cranky cook Fanny Craddock, have all the ingredients to stir up a stink and turn the stomachs of many hopeful dabblers who have an eye on the pie of victory. The spice of pace, the sugar sweetness of skill and a reliable confidence within the crusts of all expose a team that will be too tough to swallow for many - the advice is - watch this space Johnnie.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)