DULL DRAW ON A DULLER NIGHT

28th October 2020 - Cheadle Town 1 v 1 Alsager Town - Two nights of footy on the bounce making sure we get the games in before Old Mother Climate parts her nebulous privates and pisses on the weekends fixtures and, the shroomage.  Today I had had a long day at work tidying up loose ends and catching up in many areas.  I wandered home and recorded a few fungi before the skies darkened, then, when home, topped up and finished the recent Arley Hall list to 113 species.  The species added were two Brittlegills, which had me wondering which team tonight would be showing their fragile nature and crumbling under any applied pressure.  Who would be the first team to spread their hyphal strands and feed on the root system of their opponents and duly spread spores of success via their productive ball booting basidia.  I may be overdoing it on the fungal front, my willy is looking decidedly like a Pestle-Shaped Puffball, my anus is sporting a nice circular troop of the aptly named Fairy Ring Champignon and my nipples are lactating like mad, with the milk turning yellow when applied to an handkerchief.  Not good is it!  Despite these complaints and a touch of Hairy Curtain Crust between the toes I hobbled down to tonight's ground and arrived in good time to natter and catch up with the fine gent on the gate, and of course, with STP Stu.  Tea and choccy were a certainty and after acquiring both we marched to the far side of the ground and were joined by Gareth and Sandra, 2 more keen onlookers.  We were all armed with brollies thus guaranteeing the night to be droplet free - let us hope goals would be more free in raining forth.

The game began with little in the way of hair-raising action and if the truth be told, set the script for the rest of the night.  A mis-kick by the Alsager keeper nearly resulted in a goal but a recovery was had and blushes were spared.  Alsager made most of the early running and were making sure the home ranks never truly settled.  The Town eventually summoned a break with No 9 (Pat Davin) breaking, shaking off his marker and squaring the ball to No 11 (Max Greenhalgh) whose shot was dragged disappointingly wide.  

Some end to end action came with many raised voices and claims for this, that and t'other.  Several surges came each way, some solid last ditch tackles were witnessed with the hosts ruffled by the visitors generous helpings of gumption and gusto.  The game raced on, there was little need for my pen to waltz across the paper until a blazing shot came from the Bullets pack only for their own No 8 (Jordan Stafford) to be in the way and perhaps deny a sure opening goal.  From here the home lads progressed with real spunk in their stride, Davin provided a cross which No 10 (Enock Amankwaa) missed but clattered into the keeper and came off second best.   The referee pointed to the spot, it seemed a strange decision from where we were stood but the Alsager lads accepted it and watched as Davin stepped up to wallop home the ball and give his side the lead against the run of play.

Matters now ground on, Cheadle looked to take charge, Alsager became ragged but still battled with good zest and gave the opposing force little room to create.  To be fair, The A's were the better side toward the break but just the final touches at the latter end let them down - a recurring theme with many teams this season it seems.

For the break me and Stu went for a brew, on cold dark night it is what we do.  Alas for us, there was a queue, and we only made it back in time, to view, half 2.  Up yours Lord Byron!

The chasing period followed on from where its predecessor left off.  A couple of substitutions came for each team and then, as Alsager pressed, Cheadle Town countered with a glorious ball from No 7 (Limpitshi Bongwanga) finding Davin who rounded the keeper but was pushed out wide.  Still the quick-thinking striker managed to cross the ball, with Amankwaa striding up and hitting the bar with his effort. No 8 (Matty Russell) had a pop seconds later but found the keeper quick to react and save.  

Alsager continued to stay afloat, their No 10 (Ryan Hibbert) had an effort but the power was lacking - other than this no major threat was being brandished.  The hosts continued to compete, No 2 (Thomas Hendley) had a pop straight at the keeper and then No 4 (Andrew Lunt) was threaded through but the opposing No 4 (William Aldred) read the danger and executed a stunning tackle to negate the peril.  Lunt came again soon after, a shot was deflected, the guest No 1 (Eric Merner) produced a choice save and made sure this game was going to the wire.  

We now peregrinated further into the chilly night, the result still looked touch and go when The Bullets' No 11 (Maximillian Lonsdale) ran for a hopeless ball in the corner, somehow managed to collar the globe, elude his close markers, make it into the box and get unceremoniously tumbled.  The penalty awarded was great reward for his troubles and No 16 (Callum Collinson) rattled home the spot kick to get matters back to all square.

The short stretch to the finishing line saw Alsager push for the win and Cheadle scamper.   Davin for the hosts produced a superb cross ball that saw a wayward cross come instead of a shot and then a Cheadle break was denied by a superb tackle and the resultant corner saw Davin flick over with the head.  The final whistle was welcome, a share of the spoils extremely fair.

This was not a classic, a stodgy game in part with much rough and tumble.  One player who deserves the Man of the Match choice was Cheadle Town's No 3 (Miles Vare) who had one of the busiest nights, kept his head and composure and ended up muddy, fagged out but with a good stint under his grubby belt. Get the Daz Automatic out lad, that kit needs a good rinse through.

FINAL THOUGHT - And so another game that exposed 2 teams not fully firing on all cylinders and just lacking that fluidity to take them on to better things.   Alsager came and worked hard,  they set out to disrupt and try and win the game, this was an admirable effort from a team who would not be anyone's first choice to be in the upper echelons of the league come the end of the season.  Again the key is to get those shooting boots sharpened up, too many teams I am seeing of late are lacking that killer touch and one or two are going to pay a heavy price for it.  Cheadle Town didn't get into any sort of stride tonight and had random patches of play that promised much but which ultimately failed to deliver.  They got embroiled in a patchwork contest and made to dig deep to get any sighting of goal.  The plans are big I hear at this local ground, there is still a lot of work to be done to make things come to fruition and waiting down the line are many teams who will be more lethal in front of goal.  Next weeks local Derby is all set up to be a choice affair - I just hope the recent dose of Fungal Elbow doesn't flair up before hand - someone has to do these wanky reports!

ALL SQUARE, ALL FAIR

27th October 2020 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 1 v 1 New Mills - The year has cracked on whilst many have cracked up.  The key is to ignore propaganda, exaggeration, the doubters and down-shouters and much verbal masturbation.  Rolling onwards like the veritable stone trying to shake off the cloying mundane moss I have been snowed under of late but have remained as productive as ever.  These dark nights will test the mettle but I have good company in my home, many interests and a collection of 'Invisible Man' films to watch as well as some books on art to study.  I once knew a man who constructed abstract art work using nothing more than anally propelled substances - he was a 'fartist'.  Some of his pictures were ace, some just pure shit, I never could get my head around his work known as 'Marrow Eating Man With A Spanner' - apparently it was a pictorial slogan against the protests of fat-arsed women libbers - and here's me thinking it was a portrait of Napoleon.  It wasn't long after this I stopped taking Fly Agaric Fungi - suddenly everything became a little more clearer.  Now this digression may seem to have nothing to do with tonight's match but to make such a verdict would be wrong.  You see prior to the match I tried to predict the scoreline using satanic fartism and when checking the pebble-dashed canvas noted that a 1 - 1 draw was the outcome.  I also kicked a heavily buttocked feminist up the posterior on the way to the ground and saw the aforementioned fungi earlier in the day - see, there is a reason to the madness.

So, I arrived, nattered, found a pie-hawking position and felt confident of the defecated draw predicted.  Read on, I may be holding aloft the tell-tale turd art in triumph or sticking a marrow up my whizzway to avoid any further idiot forecasts - surely by this point you are already aroused or are reaching for the shut-down button on your computer - success comes in many forms.

The start to the game was rather tepid but the hosts did warm things up a little with 2 quality crosses into their opponent's perilous zones although the incoming assassins were lacking in loftiness to make the critical contact.  2 angled kicks followed, the first was played short before a solid shot was nutted wide, the second was finalised by a decent volley wide by No 10 (Charlie Mulgrew).  The Nomads continued to press, several piercing balls came but just strayed too far from the attackers feet.  The travelling team were being rushed and kept on the edge but all the while they were keeping the scoresheet blank and making sure they remained a valid threat.

The half progressed with much effort but with little coming in the way of chances.  The Millers did cultivate several rapid raids with No 9 (Bed Edgson) and No 10 (Michael Connor) obvious target men.  From the rear ranks though No 2 (Jack Wray) hammered forth under good steam and was unlucky to run out of playing surface before the ball went dead.  Soon after the same scampering blighter came forth, passed to Edgson who posted a decent cross only for the globe to be plucked out of the air by the rising keeper who hung like an Hummingbird about to take a sip of nectar - graceful man, graceful.  

From here to the break New Mills became the better team, Wray continued to be an option, No 11 (Shelton Payne) exposed swift feet and became a problem and the Nomads did well not to concede at the death.  A free-kick was had by the guests and swerved towards goal only for the keeper to save with relative comfort.  The half ended soon after, this was a middling contest with two well-matched teams.  My prediction for 1 - 1 was still in the mix, the 2 pints of blood I have offered up to Beelzebub after the foul artwork was created were doing the trick.

The break was spent nattering to folk, comparing views on Fray Bentos Pies and considering what footy is up and coming.  The weather was set to turn utterly foul, the fixture list will have to be consulted day by day and my box-set of Joe 90 episodes prepared for back-up - ooh the speccy bastard.

Half-two - a quick start by the guests with a swift move seeing Payne get the ball in the clear, fire and be denied by a quick thinking mittman.  Up the other end we traversed, No 2 (Craig Coates) pushed on, a ball was posted, played out and then knocked back in.  Count Confusion decided to make a cameo appearance and bewildered many bonses as the ball pinged here and there and wouldn't play by the mathematical script.  Suddenly No 7 (Kyle Foley) was on it, had a pop and a wicked deflection sent the ball looping over the keeper and into the awaiting squared-off non-festive stocking. It was against the run of play but they all count!

The game now became more spacious, players were having a lot more room.  No 11 (Kieren Herbert) had the next punt at goal and was unlucky not to bag a strike with an unexpected looper.  The Nomads were now upping the ante and looking a better prospect but New Mills sprung, Payne darted, delivered and No 12 (Benito Lowe) looked destined to bury but somehow the ball flew over the bar.  The action returned to the opposite end of the pitch.  A free-kick in the corner saw No 9 (Richard Tindall) eventually collect, protect and propel.  The shot went behind from a corner which gave birth to a suckling of no hope.  The Millers advanced next and won a free-kick of their own with the ball booming the wall and then being blazed back and saved, yet again, by a very alert mitter.

This was now more like it, with 2 teams going for the end glory with greater expression.  Herbert for the Nomads was putting in his usual honest stint and provided the final cross from another swift onslaught.  The defending pack survived...just, but the same marauder was soon at it again and upended for his troubles.   The gratis hoofing saw the ball enter the box, get cleared and then volleyed back on the side-foot.  This would have been a choice strike if the ball had decided to stay below the horizontal.  Having said that, I am sure Nomad's Club Secretary Neville Pearson would be a bit of a looker if he had blue eyes, long flowing locks and a pair of 44DD bristol cities (you see it is all about what might have been).

Away from this soul-shuddering vision and back to the match with New Mills now a growing force and looking to get back on equal terms.  As soon as these thoughts were put to paper I looked up to see another Miller's attack, No 17 (Samual Amankwaa) was on the ball some distance out and at a slight angle.  This didn't seem to deter the advancing menace from having a crack at goal.  The ball flew, had good energy and a slight bend and duly found the back of the net - that was some strike and now the game was looking to be...anyone's.

The pace of the contest never let up and both teams worked up a lather trying to secure another win.  Amankwaa nearly doubled his tally soon after whilst picking up the ball and prodding goalward.  The goal-line clearance was crucial, this was now a game on a knife-edge.   Free-kicks came at each end, Tindall for the Nomads finalised the first with a header straight at the keeper and at the other end some head-football was halted when the gloved gent caught the ball and quelled any rising panic.

The last 10 minutes saw the action continue as a 'next goal wins' scenario took hold.  New Mills came close when a low drilling shot from No 7 (Darren McKnight) whistled mere inches wide and then a free-kick the same way saw the resident goalie miss the flight of the ball but recover on the second delivery and punch clear with great authority.  2 shots came at the same target zone soon after, both were close but not close enough. Just prior to the final peeps Amankwaa had space in front of goal to truly seal the deal but rolled a poor effort straight at the man between the uprights.   This was the final chance, the game ended with honours shared and I was left to ponder the Man of the Match.  For me the Cheadle Heath Nomad's No 1 (Bruno De Silva) did more than his fair share of work, kept his eyes on the ball throughout and made some saves look easier than they may have been,  At certain points, when required, he kept his team in it and made sure the defence were filled with confidence knowing they had a reliable stickman behind them.  A 'Silva' lining to a decent night's work methinks!

FINAL THOUGHT - New Mills look a decent prospect this time around with a tight defensive unit, some industrious midfield components and plenty of options up front.  They came on strong during the second half and in truth, should have perhaps pilfered the win but this was a close contest throughout and it is battles like this that will answer more questions rather than a routine win.  If I was a gambling man I would put my money on a mid table finish but wouldn't be surprised if they penetrate the upper reaches provided they can maintain team consistency and have a bit of good fortune along the way - remember this is a ruddy tough league. The Nomads are a decent team at the moment, are working with great zeal and being encouraging to one another all over the pitch.  Pre-season things were looking tough, at the moment there is a rosy hue to the forecast and if the same attitude is had by all players for the full 90 minutes of each and every game the outcome will be far better than many first deemed. Of course the odd result will not go their way and there are some teams in this league that have money to spend and therefore will carry greater weight onto the pitch but The Nomads are no push-overs and many a team is going to be in for a rude wake up call if they don't take this lot seriously.  Again as a gambling man I would go for a mid-table finish and again, I wouldn't be surprised if they did a little better.

To add, to celebrate my pre-match prediction I was going to sacrifice a hedgehog to the Dark One but I like all wildlife so instead I sent a death threat to my local MP and crapped on my neighbour's doorstep - the horned bugger will just have to make do, my next prediction however may now not be as accurate.

DAMP DUDS AND SWOLLEN NETTING

24th October 2020 - Partington Village FC 1 v 3 Denton Town - What a dreary day, those dishrag skies leaking grotty rain, the wind disrobing arboreal monoliths with uncaring abandon, the air holding a chill that pervades the marrow and just the general ambience of another year winding down and heading into those testing wintry months. By heck, tis enough to make one strip off, run down to the nearest butchers and perform indecencies with the cut-price giblets!  To stay on the right side of sanity I make sure I keep busy and pop the necessary pills.  The morn was spent updating the wildlife databases, cleaning the kitchen, knocking sweet merry Hell out of the punchbag and getting together a 'To Do' list for the coming week.  As I peered through the window my initial plans didn't look to promising and an alternative option even less inspiring.  In truth I could have easily crawled back in bed and snuggled up with an old Dickie Davies erotic novel - 'There's a Pipe in my arse with David Bryant' was tempting, 'Ping Pong Love with Desmond Douglas' equally so but if I did end up in a heap on the mattress 'Speedway Saddle Sores with Ivan Mauger' was looking especially enticing.  Thankfully I avoided the lure of 70's sporting sex and headed out to football, were the nob would have to be tickled by some Non-League reality and the trousers would be dampened by rain instead of the other stuff that I leave to your rather sinister imaginations.

We arrived in good time, had a quick wander, saw a couple of fungi and then nailed the Express Cryptic Crossword in 20 minutes.  Out for the game and the rain began with earnest persistence and teamsheets were kindly acquired from the amiable referee (take a bow Ian Cliff) who duly took a photo and e-mailed my way after the game - cheers mate.

The game eventually got rolling, albeit about 5 minutes late. 2 early corners for Denton saw a brace of headers follow and the home team act like a swarm of pubic lice when a certain powder is applied - they scurried and survived.  Another ball was tossed forth by the visiting tribe, No 9 (Brad McLaughlin) used good strength and balance, beat his marker and got a shot away.  The keeper stood his ground and made a solid save but soon after the home stickman was called into action again as No 10 (Shaq Lewys) let fly with an effort that lacked direction and was easily dealt with by the mitted man.  The Partington pack were under early pressure and were being rushed.  This situation led to the first goal as No 6 (Lewis Cooper) pilfered a Partington defender, played a cool ball to No 11 (Mauro Mendez) who touched, darted and sweetly slid the ball into the net.

With the opening goal in the bag Denton now played with exceptional impetus and rained forth.  The Village lads were on the back foot looking for scraps and had a dig via their No 12 (Reece Thompson) who couldn't keep the ball below the horizontal.  An angled kick for the guests was the next.  No 5 (Cole McGrath) was at the back post, nutted and claimed handball. The man in black was having none of it and ordered another corner kick from which bugger all was had.  As the travelling unit maintained ascendancy the fact remained that they were only 1 goal to the good and that is always a precarious position to be in.  The situation was soon proven to be unstable as the hosts pushed, No 9 (Josh McVety) was in a cornered position of little hope but still somehow managed to squeeze in a cross.  From a small snippet of space No 2 (Dean Ashford) popped up and buried in the bottom corner with little fuss.  What a bonus for a team striving for a foothold.

The half raced on, this was a decent contest despite the somewhat shite conditions.  From the midst of the murk Denton's Lewys bounded on, carved his way through the defence like an electric sausage through a gathering of addled eggs and sent forth a low, well struck shot.  The keeper saved his side's bacon but seconds later the same frontman was trying to upset the beans again with another shot that duly bulged the netting.  It looked like a further splash of sauce had been added to a tasty game but the man in the middle said offside and threw forth a dollop of sobering salt (apologies for these breakfast-based comparisons, the weather was making me peckish) and the goal was ruled out.

The Villagers still worked away, 3 shots on the bounce came, the best of which was by Thompson who wasn't too far off target.  The Town were quick to counter, Mendez provided a dazzling pass, McLaughlin darted in with the keeper to beat, the save that came was brilliant.  In the blink of an eye the saviour was sent into the bin of sin due to some overexcited dissent - oh the silly bugger.

The final action saw Denton progress, McLaughlin and Lewys linked up, the move was polished, the ball in oozing pace.  The defence stood firm and made sure matters stayed as they were for the interval - we were seemingly on for a very close contest.

The break saw myself and my good lady invade my soggy bag (now, now) and partake of the flasks of warming liquid.  It was ruddy needed and a wise pre-match move to bring these vessels of thermal salvation.  Alas we forgot a change of clothes, a hot water-bottle and a DIY inflatable dug-out to keep us dry - bastard!

Half-two saw Partington come out fast and with a glow in their legs.  Some swift passing was finalised when No 7 (Ryan Mellor) walloped over - it was worth a punt.  Denton began to turn a screw but they failed to benefit from the one man advantage.  When the home keeper did come back on the Town won a throw in, the ball entered the box and some tossing about resulted in an overhead kick by No 6 (Lewis Cooper) - the ball went straight into the recently returned mittman's arms - he looked quite grateful.  

The hosts now grew in confidence, this game was a real battle in the growing murk - the end result was far from certain.

Next action, Mendez for the guests weaved and remained as elusive as a freshly buttered eel with a bare electric wire up its arse.  The defenders were left looking on, it was a shame the end pop at goal was ruddy crap.  Soon after a move of effective simplicity came the same way as No 8 (Aaron Clayton) pushed the ball out wise, Cooper provided a cross and Lewys devoured the ground and arrived in time to strike the ball home - now that's good football.

The onus was now on the Partington pack to make the running.  No 13 (Mike Dolan) gathered and played a pass to Mellor who put in a flick header.  The keeper kept his orbs on the ball and saved well.  A free-kick came at the same target zone minutes later but the effort was tame and the hosts had to rebuild once more.  Alas the ball was soon out of play and it was Denton who had won the throw-in in an advanced position.  The globe was tossed forth, Lewys collected and became instantly possessed.  His eyes grew wide, his legs propelled him on a diagonal across the goal.  The angle was just right for an outside-of-the-foot attempt which was executed with relative ease - this was a fine one man strike from nothing and put the game to bed.

The last minutes saw the rain belt down in an avalanche of liquid javelins and no matter how much the home ranks huffed and puffed Denton Town were always in control.  The game eventually ended, one lot were drenched with delight, the other lot were just drenched.  Man of the Match goes to Denton Town's No 8 (Aaron Clayton) and even though he got substituted late on when he was part of the game he displayed great alertness, played some sweet passes, was never afraid to jump in the trenches and get stuck in and provide a constant source of communication and encouragement - t'was grand to see.

We two neutrals soon pootled off slightly dampened but pleased with a fair game seen, next time we visit though we will check the ruddy forecast.

FINAL THOUGHT - Partington Village FC were placed under the billy-club from early doors and in truth never really seemed to get into their stride.  Days like this happen and next time they need to make sure they leave the traps like whippets with a dose of the shits.  Saying this the positives came via the 'never-say-die' attitude, the ability to squeeze in a chance from nothing and the fact that they kept the bonses down and stayed focused.  Sometimes the ball doesn't run the way you want it and the team you are playing are just better on the day - tis how you bounce back that matters.   Denton Town are looking a complete unit now and, to be fair, should have scored more than they did today.  The team has a good balance of flair, solidity, head down focus and willing runners.  All that is needed is consistency and for players to fully gel into one working pack.  I can see the improvement with each and every viewing, this lot can be in the final shake-up come the end of the season, they just need to roll with the dips and make sure they ride the highs as long as possible.  I think Denton Town are guaranteed top 4 finish (at least).  Oh bugger it, my neck has been extended and is on the line.  Take note though - Non-League Football has a great knack of making one look a right pillock - tis a feeling one has to get used to.

WHEN TWO TOWNS GO TO WAR

20th October 2020 - Congleton Town 1 v 0 Hanley Town - It seems like an age since myself and my wonderful wife were last at this chosen ground tonight and we were very much looking forward to settling in and watching 2 teams battle out, what looked on paper, a very competitive contest.  This is one of our favourite haunts with the chips and tea a most important part of the visit due to them being, as stated on several occasions, the best in the NWCFL.  We indulged once more, picked a nice sitting point, scoffed and slurped and nattered about art, the upcoming game and our daughter who is a busy bee and, just like her parents, trying to be decent, put back and pootle on.  The teams warmed up, a crowd gathered and then prior to kick-off we are requested to don a mask to watch the game.  We duly moved to a standing point rather than smother ourselves and so hoped that the rain would stay away and most of the match would be battled out near to our new viewing position - we don't ask for much in life!

So the game got underway, Hanley attired in dashing grey were the first unit to trespass into territory labelled danger as a 3 pass sequence was finalised by No 11 (Daniel Needham) who, despite having a space, could only place his shot into the abdomen of the awaiting keeper.  The Congleton response took a few minutes to fully brew and eventually came via No 9 (Aaron Johns) who darted, let fly with great impetus and forced the mittman to make a quite smart save.  The game grew in pace and, may it be said, tetchiness, which was far from conducive in making for a free-flowing and attractive game.  Hanley managed to garner 3 corners on the bounce, each one was efficiently dealt with by the home pack and a breakthrough didn't look like coming any time soon.

Hanley came once again, a superb crossball found Needham who dashed, hammered the ball across the face of goal only for the two incoming belfries to arrive just a fraction of a second too late.  True chances now became like a first edition copy of Arthur Runcibles 'The History of the Spoon' - a rare thing indeed with Hanley shading matters and looking the most likely to score but with Congleton rigid in defence and keeping matters tight.  Despite the home team's close marshalling Hanley came again, No 8 (Callum Feeney) dashed and ended up on the floor inside the box.  A penalty shout was had, it seemed to be given and then taken away - one set of players were livid, the other offered great applause to the officials - can you guess which was which?  Ooh the twisted buggers.  

The affair now became a little too feisty for its own good with many players using their gobs rather than their feet and not helping the flow of the contest.  The hosts eventually had a flourish, a shot blazed from the midst of the action but the save that followed was more than adequate.  Again the reborn home pack came, some brisk passing resulted in No 9 (Aaron Johns) walloping from fairly close in, again the No 1 (Adam Lawrence) did enough and tipped neatly over.  A corner followed, all heads were missed once more - were we destined for another lowly scoring game.

The half ended with more niggles and a lack of expression on the globe, I was hoping the second period would see the noggins get more zoned in and both teams go for the full-on win.

It was too far to get a brew for half-time, we suspected there would be a queue and besides we couldn't be arsed to move.  To add, of late I had been starved of goals, my footballing gut was rumbling and I needed a feast from the onion bag - surely this wasn't going to be a strike free bullet, no wonder I didn't have enough energy to purchase a liquid dipped bag.

The teams came out for period two, the home lads had a renewed vitality and went about their work more quietly (it was good to see). A corner was earned, No 8 (Jonathan Beaumont) had the ball at his feet, the shot failed to come quick enough and when it did a firm block was made.  Another shot came, another body got in the way - the action was building, hold on tight ya buggers,

Hanley pounced next, the move was sweet, No 7 (Tom Ashton) led a break, a cut back was cleared with No 8 (Callum Feeney) sending forth a howler that went inches over the bar.  The game was on a 50/50 tightrope, one goal would certainly win this one but who the Hell would bag it.  Congo burst a scrotal sac next, a low ball into the box met the cranium of No 5 (Richard Duffy) but his neck lacked the multi-jointed assets of a Barn Owl and the ball was sent wide.  Hanley looked a trifle rattled but kept their heads on the job and looked to sneak a poke at goal.  Ashton did have a punt but the effort was weak and never in danger of bulging the meshing.

Flying forth next were the hosts, No 10 (Jordan Johnson) lashed over and then No 8 Beaumont executed a cute dummy, Johnson was on it and his cross was unfortunate not to be touched home by the incoming No 12 (Daniel Cope).  Soon after this close call a coming together in the corner saw No 3 (Jonathan Swale) get sent off for the hosts.  It was a moment of embarrassing madness - if Congleton ended up losing this, this was the man to blame.  

This was now a good game of football, there was little in it with a penalty shout for Congleton waved away and a Hanley header from a free kick not finding the target area.  Soon after and a corner was won by the resident pack due to impeccable work by Beaumont.  The ball was sent from the angle, the keeper grabbed with ease and then seemingly clobbered an opposing player and was given his marching orders.  As per, the only virus to be truly afraid of is 'insanity' - tonight we witnessed two folk who were truly struck down with it.  To rub salt in a gaping wound a penalty was given and in the 94th minute at that.  If the ball was buried that would be it and after the previous night's last minute 1 - 0 penalty win I had a strong sense of Deja Vu to say the least. So, up stepped No 17 (Aaron Bott), the man between the sticks was now the Hanley Sub Joseph Thomspon - who would be the end of game hero.  The answer, Bott, who stroked the ball home with good pace and brought great joy to his teammates and the home fans.  A few kicks later the game was over - by heck The Bears had left it late.  Man of the Match was a tough choice but I thought Congleton Town's No 8 (Jonathan Beaumont) had a solid game, put himself about, had good ground coverage and made one or two select runs in the midst of some quick action.  Job done.

We nipped off sharpish after the game, a slight chill had set in and we were fagged.  We had avoided a goalless draw again...just.  Things are getting too close for comfort.

FINAL THOUGHT - The game tonight was of two halves I thought.  The first was marred by too much griping, name calling and a lack of focus which really affected both teams.   The second half was more like it with a well-fought tussle had between two units perfectly balanced.  Hanley look a fair bet to hold their own again this season and are pretty solid throughout.  I couldn't judge them too harshly on their sharpness in front of goal tonight as they were marked well and given little in the way of a direct opportunity.  It has been a while since I visited their ground, maybe I have an excuse to do so again and give a clearer verdict.  Congleton Town frustrate, one always expects them to do better than they do but they seem to fall short of the mark.  Tonight they spluttered in part, flowed like molten larva in others and, if they keep their heads on the game, stick to the basics and keep on galloping with belief they may have their best finish for a goodly while. A final minute penalty is perhaps the touch of luck needed to light the touchpaper and send the team on a good roll - I see they are playing Avro next - that will be a tough one, I will be watching mighty closely and in the meantime, look forward to my next trip down here and of course, to caning another tray of chips!

WASH-OUT

19th October 2020 - Stockport Town 1 v 0 Cammell Laird 1907 - A long fungalised walk was had the day before this game, we wandered 8 miles, clocked up many species and came home fagged out with a bundle of fungal specimens for microscope work.  I had booked three days off work and day one was spent looking at micro-intricacies and getting the myco-list up to 132 species.  This straining of the cranial juices had somehow twanged a cerebral wire and I ended up suffering from that rare disease known as 'Abstract Tourettes' (shit, twat, wank) - see what I mean.  I apologise if the following football report is invaded with such abnormalities (frog nobs) but at least I am still scribbling and trying to make the best of matters.  I arrived at the ground in good time, nattered with STP Stu and Gareth and Sandra Evans with only myself opting for an home win.  Just prior to kick off the weather started to turn (rubber nipples and arsecracks) and I was hoping the football could be a little more warming - it turned out I was a foolish imp hoping for the impossible.

The game began (tortoise turds), the action was tame and both teams looked to be snuffing one another out with the guests obviously coming with the game plan of 'soak and spring'.  A few lively tackles brought great uproar from both benches, in truth, there was nothing malicious to be seen.  The Town made most of the early running with the Laird happy to absorb.  The host's problem was the lack on inventiveness up front and that decisiveness when faced with a possible chance to have a pop.  Matters were not helped when the resident No 9 (Aaron Knight) limped off and the rain began to tumble with more urgency. 

Halfway through the first half and little was happening to speak of leaving me to consider sitting by the fireside, sipping tea and watching a re-run of Hawaii Five-O (Fuck em' Danno).   At last a shot on target came as the home No 2 (Chiek Thiam) propelled himself forth with great desire and let fly from a fair range.  The ball stayed at an adequate height for the keeper to make a good one-handed save which led to a corner.  The angled kick brought no further excitement and the game progressed to the break in a purely flatline and quite numbing manner (pubic piss-ants).  The guests seemed happier with the situation, they were utterly disciplined and suffocation their opponents ambition - the problem was, many on the sideline were becoming bored shitless.

The rain abated, we onlookers stood firm and hoped for a ray of sunshine - if not, the magic mushrooms I had recently found would have to suffice.

The second period came, The Town had a free-kick, it produced bugger all as did a corner and another 2 gratis-boots - what a crock this game was.  Eventually Thiam for the hosts produced a spark with a great run that earned his side another kick from the angle.  The ball was delivered, the guests were solid, No 9 (Luke Blondel) was at the apical part of a break, No 6 (Leighton Egan) was at the back and produced a quite exceptional tackle to quell the threat.  From the corner the ball was nutted out and boomed back, alas the shot flew with pace right over the crossbar.

Next action (by heck this was getting too much), Cammell Laird gained possession from nothing, No 12 (Jay Thomas) let rip a 35 yard howitzer that sizzled through the air and headed to the top corner.  The save by the home No 1 (Morgan Piper) was outrageously top class, what a great moment, a veritable explosion in a desert.  From here The Town tried to move up a gear, No 8 (Shakeel Jones-Griffiths) was tumbled on the edge of the box but the free-kick by No 12 (Rourke Neal) was disappointing (fart potatoes).  

The final stages of a quite indigestible game came, Laird had a corner delivered but was headed wide and then a last gasp flourish saw Stockport's Jones-Griffiths shoot on the turn, the keeper block and in-box havoc ensue.  In the midst of the mayhem a shout rent the air, pleading for a penalty - it seemed an infringement had occurred and the eagle-eyed referee had witnessed it.  A Cammell Laird player was sent walking, it was the last minute and No 15 (Max Dickov) shouldered the responsibility to bury the ball and bag three points.  The ball was placed and stroked home with aplomb - it turned out to be the last action and at 1 - 0 we finished the night's events (buttocks, bollocks and boiled eggs).  Man of the Match goes to Cammell Laird's No 5 (Callum Hulmston) who may have ended up in the showers earlier than expected but who I thought gave a cracking performance at the back, helped hold the ranks in position and who really worked up a good lather - I hope this mention is of some consolation.

FINAL THOUGHT - I am always upbeat about footy (conkers, toenails and botty thrush) but tonight there was little to be positive about.  Shitty weather, two teams blanking each other out and little in the way of chances.  My mate Gareth said there were only 4 real shots on goal - I reckon he could be in danger of exaggeration there.  Cammell Laird, to give them credit, came to stifle and stifle they did and on one or two occasions nearly pinched a victory.  The late penalty blow against them wasn't deserved but if you indulge in these tactics then you play with fire - lesson learned tonight I hope (sizzle, todge, ouch).  Stockport Town continued from where they left off last time I watched them and severely underwhelm.  Their play is quick, smooth and sharp at times but when it comes to carrying out the final assassination they just seem to be lacking and always in a state of utter indecision.  There will come a game when they will brush aside a team with a bundle of goals but if they continue to play like this then it will be a long old season that may get on one or two peoples tits.  I will be back come the next Monday night fixture - I hope I attend and return home in a more stable mental condition (belch, fanny, mallard shit)!

GOLDEN GRALAMS HOME CRUISE

17th October 2020 - Lostock Gralam 3 v 0 Knutsford FC - Up and dabbling - the recent fungus list was updated to 103 species with several county 'firsts' in the mix.  Hours of microscopy was needed to compile the total but I got there with a few pesky species eluding the ID process and shrivelling before I could get to them.  After a busy morn my wife and my spore-laden self set out to this new ground, got mucked around by the in-car SatNav but eventually made it in time to have a brew, a choccy bar, acquire pics of teamsheets and have a catch up with the roaming STP Stu.  All 3 of us were agreed that this was a fine set up and of a fairly picturesque standard - the added Shaggy Ink Caps and Pleated Ink Caps were a mere bonus.  We headed to the small stand to watch the game, the clouds were not to be trusted and besides, it had a seating area where we could take shelter if precipitation did occur or if the old boiled eggs (legs) started griping.  We didn't have long to wait for the teams to make an appearance - I was prepared to scribble again, this is what the ink was seen to say.

After some good galloping the hosts won an early corner that entered the box, was played out and rattled back from distance by No 10 (Liam Collins).  The keeper read matters and held the travelling globe with relative ease.  The visitors were unsettled, a bad defensive pass was pilfered, the home No 11 (Joseph Woolley) was played in and looked to penetrate but was swiftly neutered as the offside flag was waved.  Eventually the guests won a free-kick, No 11 (Matt Hanson) could only strike the wall and watch as the Lambs went on a breakaway.  A ball was played forth, Collins chased but looked to be too late as keeper and defender closed in.  The two marshalling men however collided, the ball squeezed free and Collins duly fed on the scraps and slotted home - 1 - 0, the touch-paper was lit.

The hosts were now on it, another attack came after much battling.  The ball went out wide and a delicious delivery followed.  No 9 (Jack Woolley) escaped the rear ranks, the chance to shoot was delayed by a fraction of a second which gave the mittman just enough time to come out and snaffle up the sphere.  Within the twitch of a nervous man's nob Joseph Woolley was in again after No 7 (Ryan Jackson) produced a choice twist and turn, fed his comrade and watched him fire straight at the goalie.  This was a good stint to say the least.

Knutsford managed to get a grip on matters next with a decent passing sequence deserved of a better punctuation mark than No 3's (Dan Quinn) belt over.  The Gralam Gang were quick to reply, a streaking move saw Joseph Woolley on the flank, provide a swift cross which No 9 (Jack Woolley) struck first time albeit with little gumption and no direction - the man between the sticks had no problems snuffing matters out.  

Knutsford had a free-kick and corner next, both caused little fuss for the zoned-in home ranks.  These 2 gratis gifts did lead to a session of pressure but Lostock stood firm due to great discipline and a deep-rooted work ethic.  The guests had another break before the half-time respite, a low shot was deflected wide and the corner booted long with No 4 (Adam McGeoghegan) not even close with his nutted attempt.  Just shy of the interval Lostock posted another ball into the danger zone with the opposing defence getting their K'nut's in a knot and nearly scoring an own goal - luckily they survived and soon after...it was time for tea.

A wander, drinks acquired and we had barely returned to out seats when the teams were ready to roll once more.  The questions were - Would the Grey Lambs gambol on or slip up and have their tails docked or would Knutsford strain their knackers to get back into this one or end up rupturing their own sense of rhythm - either way, this was an enjoyable game thus far and more of the same would suffice.

The Knuts Nomads started this second period brightly, Lostock though mopped up with undue fuss, ignited a spark and dashed forward with obvious threat.  A run and cross were quality laden, Jackson waltzed in, remained cool and stroked home.  This was looking like a very comfortable performance.  Lostock Gralam applied more pressure, akin to a half-nelson applied to the throat of Jackie Pallo by the butter-haired bugger Mick McManus.  Knutsford made 3 substitutions in one go, a game changer or an indication of desperation - who knows but if one more wrong move was had they would be losing this one by three submissions and one great fall.

We progressed into the bout, the guests had a corner hoofed straight at the keeper, the home lads won a free-kick which Collins cracked at the No 1 who fumbled and allowed Collins to poke home and knock the stuffing out of the opposing force.  

A battling session ensued, Collins had a pop pushed wide, a corner came and caused chaos and then the ball was buried in the net but the liner saw an infringement and called for offside.  Knutsford had a bonus boot punched away, a rebuild came with a cute ball over the top.  No 17 (Carl McCurrie) was on it, the shot was true, the mitter stretched and pushed over.  The corner produced sod all but soon after No 16 (Charlie Rodick) was slipped through with the player picking his spot but denied by the gloved guardian's outstretched shanks. Well spread that man, well spread. 

From here the game had balance but Lostock looked in control.  Joseph Woolley had a shot dragged wide, the home keeper got clattered and then No 15 (Danny Adjekum) dashed like a demon with a freshly peppered pecker and placed the ball on a plate for Joseph Woolley to bury - alas the shot went shy of the target, I suspect my remark about a seasoned sausage didn't help matters.

The final splutterings came, Lostock's No 12 (Miles Wady) produced a defensive header that nearly ruptured his own goal and then a shot by No 17 (Bradley West) flashed across the goalmouth with No 14 (Barney Wynne) having a follow-up shot that trembled the vertical.  That should have been the fourth, it wasn't and a few kicks later we were done.  Man of the Match was an easy choice, No 3 (Robbie Jones) of Lostock Gralam was utterly faultless and put in a capital stint with a calm and confident approach that showed how the game can be played with focus and good effort.  I always like a sure-footed defender who plays at his own pace - today was such an example.

We strolled around the ground after the match whereupon I spied 4 leaf galls and a fellow in the shrubbery doing nude press-ups and reciting the Lostock Graham team in reverse order.  Apparently something satanic was going on and the host team were being granted favour by the horned master due to these naked exercises and bizarre incantations.  It takes all sorts folks - I'll stick to being a Sikh, tis a shame I sold my turban to pay for the entrance fee - hey ho, Non-League over religion any day!

FINAL THOUGHT - Firstly and to Knutsford FC - a team not at the races today and just lacking in creativity and general 'oomph'.  From the off they were kept on the back peg, they looked to be playing too narrow at times and when in a commanding position on the park just lacked any viable options.  There is work to be done here, work that will need attention to detail and some special sharpness added to the off-the-ball awareness.  This is Knutsford though, a club with a long history of being a good Cheshire League side - they will get things right, that is for sure.  Lostock Gralam were very good value today and were simply on top in all areas.  If the shooting boots were really on fire today they could have bagged a half dozen (if not more) but to be fair, 3 goals, a clean sheet and many good performances is nothing to criticise.  The fact they played some good football, have a fine ground and set up and when summer time comes, have some great 'perches under the birches' to enjoy means that we shall return and offer our support - I am already looking forward to it.

I was quite taken by today's ground, it is now one of my current faves, I shall continue pootling about and supporting these real and genuine places - with my punk spirit the premiership is poison and Non-League is the only way - today has once again reinforced why!

HOME DAY BLUES

13th October 2020 - Irlam FC 0 v 2 Winsford Utd - In a scenario where uncertainty brandishes its private parts and keeps us all on the back foot with its constant bewildering flashes I am striving to stay focused and just ruddy well crack on.  So far I have waggled my own nib and scribbled several reports as well as having attended a few friendly matches too.  The powers-that-be are trying hard to piss on everyone's chips but mine are still warm, hopeful and free from the splashing penis-produced 'yellow vinegar'.  Of late I am in the maelstrom of much ado about something and am squeezing in as much as possible in the trying circumstances.  Work was long and testing today, a mad rush when home saw tea swallowed with haste, a quick tidy up had and a rattle on the punch bag used to relieve some inner tension.  The good lady arrived soon after, we were headed to New Mills tonight, the game alas was called off so we opted for Atherton which was also seen to be postponed.  Irlam was the next option and STP Stu was informed of the decision.  Alas this keen Non-League 'erbert was already on the train to New Mills but quick texts were sent and a pick-up arranged.  So with the daughter picked up from work, Stu picked up from a nearby train station, the young offspring dropped at home we made the journey to Silver Street and still arrived in good time to natter to the local faces, have a brew and scoff some chips.  The general feeling tonight was of a confident home win, all and sundry reckoned Irlam would take the 3 points and keep their season rolling the right way - as it proved, this Non-League lark is anything but predictable.  Marvellous ain't it!

At 7.45pm the game got underway and it was the guests who set the early tempo with some swift passing and much alert movement.  Corners came at each end of the park, one was too short, one too long, but the game continued in great haste with many galloping shanks on show.  A short delay saw Irlam forced to make an early substitution and when the restart came Winsford pounced with No 11 (Jesse Dowling) out wide, posting in a flashing cross that No 10 (Charlie Weir) struck first time, albeit straight into the keeper's carcass.  The guests continued to work up a good sweat, they came again, another perilous cross came and Irlam were mighty lucky to survive.  Soon after Irlam found themselves winning a corner which was hoofed into the box and found the bonse of N0 5 (Ryan Ledson) at the back post.   The outcome - the nutted effort went right into the keeper's hands.

As the game progressed the guests were having the best of it and forced the issue further when No 3 (Dean Clarke) went on a rhino-like charge and had a dig.  The ball was deflected and went loose but the excitement was soon quelled by a waving flag on the far side of the pitch.  Irlam were rattled and out of sync.  They were caught dawdling in defence next, a robbery took place, No 9 (Sam Madeley) released but could only boom the ball over the crossbar.

Eventually (and not before time), the hosts caught up with the momentum, started winning more of the ball and making the odd sortie forth.  A ball entered their opponents box, No 11 (Marijn Smith) popped up and poked homeward, alas the ball rolled toward goal with about as much impetus as a 2-legged Tortoise walking through a shit.

The back end of the half came. Winsford had a second wind and found themselves indulging in a swift multi-pronged attack, akin to a full on Dr Octopus onslaught in fact - tentacle-tastic.  The invasion was swift, a pass accurate and a cross equally so.  The result was that Madeley appeared and swept home the first goal of the night - it had been coming and Winsford were fully deserved of it.  The whistle came seconds later - on the evidence so far, there would be no change to proceedings in the second half.

We stayed put for the break, we all agreed the hosts were way off form and Winsford were looking good value for a win.  This was a match-up best likened to when Spiderman took on The Green Goblin and the latter criminalised 'erbert got his pumpkin bombs in a muddle and ended up damaging his emerald dongler with a misplaced razorbat - there was only going to be one winner.

The second period began, the night was still clement although a hovering helicopter fractured the sky silence and had me wondering if Nick Fury was sat in the cockpit of the flying contraption, on the look-out for any wannabe baddies up to no good and looking to begin world domination starting from Irlam and working out (note to self - the Mighty World of Marvel isn't real, keep seeing the psychiatrist).  Winsford were still as sharp as the claws of Wolverine, Irlam still huffing and puffing like a chain-smoking Blob.   The home lads did win a corner, the delivery was crap, it kinda summed things up so far.

Time advanced, so did Winsford with a shot coming that forced the keeper to make a tidy save.  The ball was loose, confusion took charge and suddenly the next thing we all knew was that the ball was bumbled home.  It had been deemed an own goal, the shit had been flung, hit the fan and the home team were now covered in it.

Now Irlam needed to react, they needed to gain a foothold and work like Trojans.  Pressure came, 2 Winsford players ended up in the book but the back line would not be penetrated (fair do's I reckon, playing football with a sore arse can be problematic).  The leading pack absorbed like the stomach muscles of The Incredible Hulk when doing a bit of Medicine Ball training and offered no real weak spots.  An Irlam free-kick forced the keeper to punch, a United break came but was marred by a clumsy tackle - things were now becoming a trifle frayed.

As things were deemed hopeless for the resident ranks they sprung as surprise and prowled with purpose.  No 7 (Max Bardsley-Rowe) was out wide, chased the ball down, beat his marker and put in a fine cross.  Smith was the recipient and was there to fire into the net but could only rattle the horizontal.  No 8 (Oscar Campbell) was on the follow-up, looked to bulge meshing and again trembled the bar - it was just one of those nights.

More yellow cards came, this time for the hosts. Winsford pushed on with Madeley sending a couple of headers wide and No 12 (Robert Hopley) denied at the last by a scampering keeper.  As the clock ran down there was little else to report, this was a bad night's work for the hosts but by heck Winsford had deserved this one.  At the end of proceedings I opted to give the Man of the Match to Winsford United's No 5 (Steven Jenyons) who was a rock in the rear, led with authority and made sure the back line stayed composed and offered the opposing force little in the way of opportunity.  The job was indeed a good un'.

Homeward, tired and bewildered by what that footy lark throws up - one day I may fathom out what makes it so unpredictable, in the meantime I am just going to enjoy it.

FINAL THOUGHT - Irlam were not at the races tonight, in fact the nags had galloped along and entered the final furlong whilst our team were stuck in the bar still sticking pins in the paper and hoping to get a result.  This could be a rude and welcome wake-up call for a team with much ambition and with an eye on a lofty finish or, it could be a portent of a tough season ahead - let's hope not.  Some sharpness is needed up front, the team need to be on it for the full 90 minutes, let us see how they bounce back from this.   Winsford came with a plan tonight, pounced from the off and never let up.  Once their opponents were unbalanced they made sure the toppling continued and got the final win.  They worked hard, earned things with great endeavour and showed a unity and commitment that will serve them well over the coming season.  Any team that gets 3 points at Silver Street has done well, next though, I hope to see Winsford at home and see how they perform on their own turf - I pity any team that pays them a visit and thinks they are in for an easy time of it - they could very well return home with rather heavily spanked arses.