MILLS AND GLOOM

21st February 2023 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 0 v 0 New Mills - The penultimate match report for a goodly while - I have had a health scare, the outcome was good news but I need to sort my ticker out.  Life has been a trial of late, I seem to be surrounded by death, dead-heads and disease - it has forced me to take stock and re-focus.  The latest blow to the senses was hearing of the death of that fine touchline gent Sean Errol Blaney, a fellow punky dude, a fellow hater of all things prejudice and a lover of the Non-League game.  He was a regular at the Nomads ground, every time I attended a good natter was had about this, that and of course t' other.  Sean was a gentle soul who liked some throwback noise, he will be sorely missed by me and a few fellow touchline stalwarts - tonight's report is dedicated to the man himself, it is the least I can do.

So, after a day of huffing and puffing and eating fine food (chicken, mushroom rice, spinach, tomatoes, red wine and raw shiitakes etc) so as to get the ticker back on track I recorded some bird-life and flowers, updated my website and had a chill reading my latest book 'Lust For Life' - an account of the life of that troubled genius Vincent Van Gogh.  I am a fan of the impressionists (no not Mike Yarwood and co) and appreciate their attempts at catching the spontaneity of nature - it would be ruddy marvellous to see some Non-League Impressionism, now there's a thought.

At 6.45pm prompt I got my arse in gear, walked to the ground and met up with STP Stu, and Guardians of the ground Gareth and Sandra Evans.  Thoughts of Sean were had, the usual nattering partaken of and then, after acquiring a brew, the viewing positions were taken.  These are my thoughts folks, in my usual style and without any processed affectation - the DIY streak runs deep.

The ball rolled, the chill grew, the players dashed and the spectators peeled their peepers.  The initial action was borne when the Millers won a corner.  The ball entered the box, a fine defensive header temporarily cleared matters and when the ball was re-posted the mittman exposed a safe pair of hands and gathered with little fuss. The initial throes of the game saw two teams unsettled with the only action coming from a Nomadic long ball that No 9 (Adama Sidibeh) latched onto and fired across goal from a very acute angle.  The same tribe came on soon after with No 11 (Reuben Dass) connecting with a  clearance, negotiating an inch of space but firing just wide of the target zone.

New Mills were shaken, and indeed stirred, they advanced and caused mayhem but the trio of hoofings at goal were all boldly blocked by several flying carcasses.  This opening excitement looked set to lead into a thrilling spectacle but from here the game fell apart quicker than the underpants of a worked up Cosmo Smallpiece and the onlookers were left with little to get aroused by (although a page from a recently used copy of 'Ruptured Rectums' did float by thus causing a few groin-based bulges).

Back and forth the ball went with much huff and puff but little that was good enough.  A long Millers ball saw No 11 (Terry Osipitan) released and get nudged to the deck, the verdict was 'no foul'.  At the other end the always honest and competitive Sidibeh was looking to dash clear but was tripped and duly booked for diving - a travesty on par with the time when Violet Carson (aka Ena Sharples) won Lancashire's Body of the Year.

The game progressed, No 8 (Kyle Oakes) for the guests attempted an impudent dink at the onion bag but the ball had too much airlift and from a free-kick the visiting No 4 (Reece Lyndon)  rose like a bison with a wasp up its anus but put his header off target (I expected better).  

Towards the latter end of the half the hosts built up some good pressure, the Millers were rocking on their heels but the closest we came to a bag buster was via Sidibeh who swivelled and shot and looked disappointed to see the ball fly outside of the upright.

The break came, as footballing fans we were left unimpressed.  STP Stu threw an onion at the referee who duly collected and took home for a night-time stew.  I covered the stand in graffiti as way of protest, the immortal scrawls of 'George Gibbons Eats Hedgehogs' and 'Andy Gray Is Carrying My Child' I hope will give indication of the behind the scenes deviancy going on at this local club.  I also added 'Mark Torbitt's and Colin Crompton Were Lovers' as well as an Avant-Garde cock and balls  - I hope I don't end up in court.

Half two and for those thinking that the first half was a dour affair then they were in for a real slump.  The Nomads opened up with a spring in the step.  A corner was won, No 4 (Jack Warren) met the ball at the back post with his awaiting cranium.  The keeper saved, a follow-up shot by the same wannabe goal-getter came but the protector of the netting was in the way again, this perhaps was the highlight of this 45 minute period.

Dubious tackles, a red card for the host No 7 (Ryan Shenton), a realm of fractured play and some woeful levels of composure saw matters dissipate into the realms of crappery.  No 9 (George Howarth) for the Millers collected a long ball and had a chance to be through but the first touch was abysmal and was reflective of a game turning to utter crud.  Despite being a man short the Cheadle chaps put in a good stint and more than held their own but no satisfactory joy was had although Sidibeh came close with a header.  

As the game entered the final throes thoughts came of spending one's time in a more productive way - shaving one's scrotum with a rusty knife, going on a bare-backed porcupine ride or indeed spending a dirty weekend with a Paul Shane (aka Ted Bovis) look-a-like - anything would be surely better than this.  When the referee blew I could have kissed him (no tongues of course) and I was left to ponder the Man of the Match. Tonight there was only one winner, a real shining star and one who would have found something positive to say even about a game of these lowly standards - Sean Errol Blaney - have it son, have it.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Two teams battling, two teams negating, a mid-season clash of styles and both looking to finish just above mid-table.  There are many descriptive words that spring to mind regarding this game, each one worthy of only the bluest text and the most emboldened and giant-sized font.  I am being a good lad at the mo though and shall just sign off wishing both teams all the best and a real goal fest in their next game.  It is only football at the end of the day, shitty nights happen and there are more important matters in the world for sure.

CAMMELLS TOO HUMPY AS WYTHY SNEAK A WIN

14th January 2023 - Wythenshawe Amateurs 2 v 1 Cammell Laird 1907 - The first week back at work has been done, I woke up rather shagged out today and set about a few chores with vulgarities liberally mumbled whilst the grey skies outside threatened to piss on any footballing entertainment. Thankfully news came through that the Wythy groundsmen and been seen to be 'forking about' rather than the crude and wasteful alternative, and duly saved the day. Game on it was with a 2pm kick off giving one the chance of being back home to watch the last episodes of 'Four in a Bed' - 'ooh just look at that shit round the basin', 'ooh look at those pubes in me sausages', 'by heck someone's took a dump in my pillow' - etc etc - as if!  So, with an injection of zest I cracked on, got dressed and threw down some scran (aah a good bowl of Shreddies and 2 salmon paste butties, the true blessed source of nutrients) and was duly dropped off by my good lady who then went and attended to her struggling mum.  STP Stu was in attendance again, as were our mates Gareth and Sandra. We purchased a brew and took up the viewing positions, we all committed ourselves to an home win, but as per, as long as it was a good game, played in the right spirit, with plenty of goals of course, that will do for us.  My mate Malcolm was along for the ride, he had brought a bottle of Croft Original Sherry which he duly shared - very kind indeed.

The game began with the air nipping at one's nethers, Wythy Ams fought off the cold with a couple of early attacks, the latter of which saw No 9 (Saul Henderson) finalise with an angled shot that the mittman did well to push wide. The corner led to an infringement and so banished all hopes of an early breakthrough. The guests breathed a sigh of relief but no sooner had they got back into position than No 3 (Declan Lamb) dashed forth, fed Henderson who duly shimmied, shook, shot and found the net with comparative ease. 

From here we witnessed a smattering of argy-bargy, the issuing of a yellow card and a tension creep in to matters.  Wythy came on, a corner saw Henderson put bonce on ball only to see his effort cleared off the line.  The hosts were in control, the Cammell Laird lads certainly needed to settle. The guests eventually won a gratis gift from much scrappy play.  No 2 (Ben Kerr) delivered with No 9 (Kieran Hamm) on it, shooting and forcing the home No 1(Kyle Haslam) to produce a sound save.  A corner followed, in box madness ensued with shots and flying feet coming and keeping the touchline viewers all agog.  A corner was the result, the keeper palmed away the posted globe and Wythy broke with the final outcome being a bout of frenzied action and then Henderson firing a shot that clattered the inside of the post.

From here the hosts remained on top, No 10 (Bryan Ly) was a thorn in the oppositions side but just lacked the killer instinct and when the ball was put in the Laird net on two occasions, the resident onlookers and home bench were rather miffed to see the liner's flag flapping in the breeze.  The hectic pace continued but without control, although one butter-smooth move by The Laird nearly resulted in a goal when No 11 (Kalif Koura) had a pop at the apex but could only find the side netting.  The half ended soon after with some pushing and shoving and another yellow card issued. Oh the daft buggers.

For the break Gareth and Sandra kindly provided the brews, myself and Stu nattered away and young Malcolm had a slurp of his sherry.  Thankfully the knitted sot left enough for me and my mate to share - it was a sanguine drink that counterbalanced the inclement climate and brought some benevolent warmth to the old lower fundament - hiccup.

The Laird came out sharply with the game still very much in the balance.  The blue clad resident ranks stood firm and the next shots that came at goal went their way with No 7 (Kieran Curtis) taking aim and propelling forth a shot that was weaker than the urine of a water-soaked Stickleback,  Ly had a punt soon after and gave the ball a little more welly, but the keeper saved well and from the corner sour bugger all was borne.

The CL crew reacted. Koura and No 15 (Kyle Ogiogu) linked up well, No 10 (Ryan Smith) was fed but belted the air-filled bag way over the bar.  Wythy came on again, more shots followed,  the best of which was via the tootsie of No 11 (Edward Brown) who asked questions of the keeper (David Potter) who, in turn, provided the answers with a superb one-handed save. The hosts continued to probe like a gynaecologist  looking for a clitoral wart (dirty blighter).  Curtis and No 2 (Christopher Howard) joined forces, a cross came, the guest No 4 (Daniel Stephens) stretched a shank and stopped the ball from being buried.  No 8 (Samuel Adewusi) had a shot soon after, the visiting stickman collected and dropped but before he was punished he duly gobbled up the loose globe.

Suddenly the Laird mesh protector launched a long ball, No 3 (Richard Wincer) gathered at the far end of the pitch, lobbed the home gloved guardian and bagged a simple, but effective, equaliser. This was now anyone's game.

The Laird came again, No 14 (Cameron McGregor) let fly a long shot with the keeper saving late. From the angled kick a header was put over the bar and then the hosts started to push.  A few threatening waves came but crashed into nothingness against the CL backline.  Alas it was only temporary respite for the travellers with No 4 (Charles Duke) given time to look and cross and put in a teasing ball that Brown connected with and nutted home.  

From here it was a chicken run of incessancy, alas most of the chickens were headless and composure was sincerely lacking.  Brown for WA was still darting around and almost got his just deserts when a lost cause was chased and nearly deflected home from a goalkeeping hoof.  At the other end and a pressing Wincer missed a volley, recovered the ball with sheer hard work, put in a tempting cross that saw no takers waiting.  Late on and a shot at the CL goal saw another quality save had and then the Laird have  a late attack, cause a moment of panic but not get the all important killer touch.  The game was halted soon after, despite the hosts scrambling home for me, the Man of the Match goes to Cammell Laird's No 11 (Kalif Koura) for sheer selfless industry,  an ability to trap the ball and release with almost perfect success and a head's down approach that will surely see him move on to better things.  

And so we were done, we all headed home slightly chilled but happy we got out and supported two Non-League teams and their endeavours - next stop for me is Lobster FC v Melling United - in this weather my conkers may end up as blue as the lobster's privates.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Cammell Laird came up against one of the leagues best sides and were unlucky not to grab a point.  They have a good battling attitude but are too keen to gripe rather than let the ball do the talking.  The release balls from midfield need working on so the wannabe assassins up front get the maximum feed and can hopefully do what they are asked to do.  The team are dabbling with the drop though and really do need to get to grips with matters pretty soon, there is potential but potential without points is indeed...pointless.  Wythenshawe Amateurs are pushing for automatic promotion but on today's evidence a play-off spot awaits. Their main rivals are doing the business and looking well-oiled whereas WA stuttered through this one and in truth, nearly dropped two points along the way.  At the knuckle-end of the season no game will be a gimme and so all players need to be sharp and well-versed in one another's game.  My fingers are crossed that the team can keep things rolling, as the season unfolds all will be revealed.  Right now for a good serving of Lobster!  Malc - get the sherry ready!

See ya soon folks!

HOLY McFOLEY THE ROAD IS BLOCKED

7th January 2023 - Maine Road FC 3 v 3 Foley Meir - It has been a long and hectic year so far, many challenges and tests and much ado about something.  We have cracked on but woke up today rather frazzled.  I chased my tail, caught it and tied a knot in it for good measure.  After a morn of chores and weather watching I pondered a game, duly chose one and then changed my mind as a good fellow I know was attending one of my favoured clubs.  The good lady dropped me off nice and early as she needed time with her aging mum who is really struggling of late.  I acquired a brew, nattered with a Foley Meir fan and then went outdoors to sit in the fine weather and read a tale about prison life by the  famed Russian Fyodor Dostoevsky. It is cracking stuff and got me thinking as to who I would like to see thrown in prison - well the attention seeking Prince Harry for one, the sycophantic shit that is Elton John for two and perhaps all members of the human race who are prejudice, think money is the key to success and who have a lack of regard for each other's feelings, the environment and their insane impact on things.  Just for the hell of it I would also put all cross-eyed people in dungeons and people with protuding navels would be crucified in public - I think the world would be a less crowded and better place.  After these ponderings I was joined by football enthusiast and wonderful fellow David Potter whereupon the talk become all football.  We had a brew and nattered away -  I reckon this zealot will be back on the touchline soon, I for one hope so. And so to matters at hand!

The game began and the first chance came almost at once.  The guests came, No 7 (Alexander Cimino) found himself with a opportunity to poke the ball home from a few yards out but somehow managed to miss the target - was this a glimpse of things to come?  The Road were instantaneously provoked into action, No 7 (Yousif Yousif) was at the sharp end of a move with the shot decent enough, but saved well by the opposing No 1 (Andrew Walklate).  

The game was initially built on good end to end action with the team sat in the lowly league position doing mighty well.  Maine Road brought the next threat on goal with a cross tempting Yousif to consider an overhead but No 10 (Joseph Keyworth) nipping in and putting head on ball instead and failing to ripple the meshing.  Straight away Foley Meir responded with a cross ball finding No 4 (Miles Johnson) who had a quite ambitious punt on goal that wasn't that far off the mark.  This was a game that was still in the balance until a loose midfield ball came from the home team, a Meir advance came and the last man was clumsily tumbled and the resident No 4 (Ryan Eislet) was sent for an early dip.  The follow-up free-kick saw the keeper stop and spill, the loose ball get poked toward goal which resulted in a quality reaction save and the loose ball get slapped home by the waiting No 10 (Thomas Wakefield).  Now this was an interesting turn up.

Maine Road looked slightly alarmed, they dug in and prodded away.  No 2 (Jake Pogson) advanced, threaded a pass to Yousif who wasted no time in turning and walloping into the top corner with deadly accuracy.  A superb goal and a fine way to restore parity.  

A delay followed and then a Foley Meir corner that saw The Road survive and advance via No 8 (Joshua Clegg).  A cross came, Yousif galloped forth, stuck out a shank and guided the ball into the bottom corner of the net - this game was becoming a lottery for sure. 

From here the guests showed good heart and strove with spirit.  The hosts advanced with fervour looking for the next strike but the FM crew held firm and broke with pace that saw No 9 (James Garlick) end matters with a chip over the keeper that was mere inches shy of the stick.  Moments later a fine ball was played into the MR box, Wakefield rose and provided the perfect cushion header to put the ball over the mitter's digits and into the goal - we were once again perfectly balanced.

It seemed as though things were destined to end all square for the break but a Road long ball saw Yousif collect and bag his hat-trick in comfortable style - the 10 men side had pilfered the half-time lead and looked cock-a-hoop going back into the changing rooms.

I stayed put for the break and stretched the Gordons (Gordon Banks - shanks), breathed in some fresh Vince (Vince Hilaire - air), made sure my Clyde (Clyde Best - vest) was tucked in and my trousers yanked up so that I wouldn't freeze off my little George (George Berry - cherry).  My good man Mr Potter supplied the Emlyn's (Emlyn Hughes - brews) and we duly chatted away until the teams returned to the awaiting pitch. The fingers were crossed for more of the same.

The visitors were out quicker than Trap 6 chasing a gravy dipped rabbit.  Garlick buzzed with zeal and put a ball in that Wakefield wellied wide.  Again the trailing pack came, this time with a ball over the top that Cimino connected with albeit rather tamely and allowing the keeper to save with ease.  More shots came, No 6 (Jamie Roe) had a pop for the Blues that was wide of the strike zone and a pen shout for the same team brought no further reward.

The guests provided the greater pressure, the only niggle was that the end execution was just lacking and a gung-ho commitment in the box was needed.  Composure now left the game, a hectic frenzy was the result, all that was needed was for a few heads to get the ball and take control.  The mayhem produced a corner for the Meir and when the ball went into the box more confusion came and No 6 (Fletcher Rushton) was lucky enough to find the ball drop his way and cool enough to crack home - 3 - 3 it was.

The game remained of a high, haphazard tempo, Road had a chance when a free-kick was headed goalward late on but the keeper was in the perfect spot to catch.  From here the hosts bore new impetus but it was all to no avail.  A few incidents came, one involving an off the ball slap that was not seen by any officials.  During the dregs of the game a Maine Road corner came, hit one post, another and then was struck against the bar before Foley Meir had a free-kick that Wakefield struck but couldn't keep his shot below the horizontal.  A few more half-chances and we were done, this had been a fine match for the neutral, a nightmare I suspect for the benches.  A few overheated words came at the end (utterly pointless) and I wandered off happy with a grand spectacle.  Man of the Match, well with 3 strikes, one of which was outstanding, and a very pleasing work-rate and desire Maine Road's No 7 (Yousif Yousif) has to get the nod.  Keep this up fella and the team will win more than they lose.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Foley Meir came today, perhaps got lucky with a few decisions and the sending off (which was a red card beyond doubt) but still did enough to defy the lowly position they are in and perhaps cultivate some hope for the future.  They played with good desire and at times showed some applaudable movement and one or two triangular passing sequences that worked well. To maintain this they need to use the full width of the park, avoid any skirmishes and just keep the noggins down and focus on playing forward.  Throw a few long balls into the pattern and I reckon more points will follow - I hope so and also aim to pay this club a visit before too long.  Maine Road do what they do week in and week out - bloody well frustrate all onlookers and bewilder the believers.  They are a side better than they think and better than their position informs us.  They have a culture of trying to play good football but sometimes just need to take the direct route whilst now and again (especially when a goal in front), take stock of matters before rebuilding.  As I say though, they are one of my favoured clubs and a pre-match prediction is almost an impossibility when watching this lot - this is no bad thing although being kept on the edge of those wooden benches for 90 minutes is playing havoc with my Johnny Giles (work that one out for yourself).

GOODNIGHT AT SILENTNIGHT FOR THE RED MEN

2nd January 2023 - Barnoldswick Town 2 v 1 AFC Liverpool - After a day out looking at birds, mosses and fungi, and covering much ground, it was good to get some football in and sit in a clubhouse that provided some grub, a warm atmosphere and some thermal clemency.  We arrived at the ground 90 minutes before kick-off, had a pie and a brew and when my coughing and spluttering mate turned up (STP Stu) we had another brew and decided to brace the fresh air.  The game was set to be a close one on paper despite the difference in league positions.  Time soon passed as we nattered and caught up with a few rays as the sun cast it's last vestiges of warmth.  The teams came out and I was ready to scribble the first match report of the year - through dithered digits this is what I wrote.

During the early throes there was no quarter given. Both teams scurried with purpose but creating little.  A free-kick came for the Red Men after No 9 (Kyle Scorah) was gently clipped - the outcome was bugger all.  The Barlick Boys reacted with a long ball that No 9 (Lewis Rawsthorn) gathered and belted at the second touch with the angled shot a mere fraction shy of the timber.  The guests were given another gratis gift moments later and doubled their wastage with a rather poor hoofing.  The home 'erberts were once more provoked into a response, it reminded me of when I put a bare electrical wire up the arse of what I considered to be a dead toad - cripes.  No 11 (Jack Foster) darted and crossed, a block came with the loose ball walloped by No 10 (Andrew Hill) but only finding the carcasses of several impeding players.  The threat though was there, the AFC Liverpool ranks needed to take note.

Again the hosts come, they were riding the crest of an impetus loaded wave and needed to make some kind of splash.  A corner was negated, the next serious punt on goal came the other way when No 10 (William McCarthy) weaved and wriggled, Scorah was found and a quick turn and shot was executed.  Thankfully for the home team, the mittman was awake and down to push behind for the corner.  The angled kick was yet another dead ball situation not used to its full potential.  

For their wasteful ways the red clad mob were to pay the ultimate price next when a liquid move from the home team resulted in a bulging onion bag.  A quick pass was repeated, a release ball was made and up popped No 7 (Ben Ashton) to round off a delightful move - it was a fine end to a cracking sequence.

The trailing pack tried to respond with a free-kick won.  The postage of the ball was accurate enough but the header was as limp as a lustful man's handshake after indulging in a 24 hour wank-a-thon.  Shots followed at both ends, No 4 (James Ormrod) for Barlick, No 11 (Jesse Dowling) for AFCL, both attempts were straight at the keepers navel area or, for the more corrupt of mind, about 6 inches above the base of the nob.

As time progressed and the sun dipped it looked as if Barlick may grab a second at any time.  This was the case soon after these thoughts had left my cranium along with the escaping body heat.  Another long ball opened the Liverpool unit and No 10 (Andrew Hill) collected via a superb first touch, let fly with equal eye-catching brilliance and was rewarded by a billowing of the netting that left the keeper with no chance at all.  A two-goal lead was secured, this was not what the Merseyside Medical man had ordered.

Almost immediately the leaders of the contest so far were caught with their trousers down and the visiting Dowling was tumbled (albeit very lamely) in the box.  The referee gave a penalty, the player who was on the deck arose, dusted down and took the spot-kick, the keepers shanks remained well-spread (Joan Collins eat yer heart out) and stopped the ball from entering the goal - the home fans were ecstatic.

Before the break Barnoldswick finished well with Foster having a dig wide, a cross shaving the head of Rawsthorn and the general attack mode and movement deserved of another goal - alas it was not to be - 2 - 0 it was, I don't think anyone could argue with things so far.

We stayed put for the break, a brew would have been nice but queueing for one was not an option.  We wagged the mandible and stamped the feet to keep warm, I almost considered shitting my pants but one has to observe certain decencies I suppose.  

Half-two (without added poo) and the hosts where out and displaying a continued acuteness to their play. Rawsthorn was at the apex of a fast move with his shot saved by the keepers pins. Hill took a free-kick soon after but sent the ball way over the bar and from a period of middle-park mushings Ashton escaped and sent a shot wide of the mark.  The visitors looked like not getting back into this when a quick spurt resulted in a tumbling and the opposing No 5 (Bradley Ditch) received his marching orders.  McCarthy took the earned free-kick and sent in a low drill that the home No 1 (Jordan Gidley) saved well.  AFC Liverpool took heart from having a one-man advantage. No 7 (Tom Douglas) dashed and entered the box next.  The player had options but chose to shoot and duly trembled the timber.  Scorah latched onto the rebound and forced the keeper to produce a quality save and keep his side with a double-strike lead.  A kick from the corner was the result, the ball was floated in and No 5 (Luke Stephens) rose and buried without any interference whatsoever - was this game going to turn into a Tale of the Unexpected (Roald Dahl are you listening).

From here the guests worked hard but the hosts stood strong and still created the odd chance. One such opportunity came when a substitute beat two players, put in a cross only for the incoming attacker to put the header over - that would have signed, sealed and delivered the game for sure.  AFC Liverpool tried to up the ante, many balls came forth, Barlick were like the wallet of Ken Dodd - totally impenetrable.  The referee added time, it didn't help the trailing team's cause, 2 - 1 it stayed and the home ranks were deserved of the end prize.  Man of the match was pondered, a few home defenders were in the mix but I eventually went for the No 1 (Jordan Gidley) who produced several good saves and made sure his team achieved the end triumph - I am always happy to give a nod to a good mittman performance.

We soon buggered off and made sure the heating was on in the car with the thermal fans aimed straight and true at parts certain beers (and perverts) cannot reach - ooh aye.

FINAL THOUGHTS - It had been a few years since we visited the Silentnight Stadium, it won't be that long again.  It is a lovely ground and has a nice feel to it.  We came, expected a good game and got just that.  AFC Liverpool were thrown out of their stride today and when 2 goals down didn't react with enough purpose and didn't really use any creativity to cause their opponents any fuss.  Is this a turning point in the season?  Can the lads amend this blip and noted flaw and get things back on track - I for one hope so but they had better do it soon as the season will slip away and leave them floundering in mid-table.  Barnoldswick looked good today, I liked the attitude, the attacking zest and the defensive ranks that stood firm and in the main, read the game with cool control.  I am befuddled as to why this team are not in the top half of the league - they look a complete unit with a good set of players - is it a case of bad luck, not playing as a team for the full 90 minutes or have I caught them on a good day?  Who knows but after today's effort I would expect a top half finish for sure - it would be ruddy splendid to see.

WOE OF THE WASTERS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WYTHERING ON THE LINE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CONTINUATION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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