MORE PRUNES PLEASE

12th February 2020 - Runcorn Town 1 v 1 Hanley Town - The fact that Runcorn Town doesn't have under-soil heating, doesn't provide all on-lookers with pre-heated slippers and doesn't offer half-time massages for those parts of the body suffering from shiver-shock didn't deter me and my good lady from attending tonight's game.  We understand that teams at this level are on a tight budget but imagine our shock when we were asked at the gate to blow-up the match balls, give the seats a quick wipe over and donate 50p towards replacement underpants for the managerial staff - by heck times are hard!  We did our bit, I even offered to donate my personal 'Charlie Drake' underpants with a 'Hello My Darlings' message embroidered onto the silken gusset.   The man on the gate happily settled for a signed photograph of the said star though with, he says in a sinister whispering voice, a phone number.  After a call in at the clubhouse, a warming brew and some scrummy chips we wandered to our sheltered sitting points and awaited the game.  We both fancied a home win although Hanley Town are always liable to throw the odd spanner in many team's works.  We hunkered down, the wind was keeping quiet, the claws of Old Uncle Nipple Nipper were a greater concern, oh we hardy and insane Non-League watchers, I am sure that enthusiasm can be a dangerous medical condition at times.

At last, the clock crawled to 7.45pm, the two battling factions indulged and all eyes were on the galloping legs and the frequently wellied orb with the hope that a bulge in the netting would be viewed many times over.  The first squad of competing doofers and hoofers to have a glimpse at goal were Hanley Town who, after much scampering, won possession and put in their No 9 (James Melhado) from a tidy flick on.  A quick turn was executed, a free-kick earned with the bonus booting struck by No 6 (Timothy Sanders) who sent in a sweet dipper that clattered the crossbar.  The game now took on a distinct pattern with Hanley trying to play on the deck and thread through dissecting passes whereas Runcorn surprisingly kept punting the ball long trying to release their ever-willing No 10 (Craig Cairns).  It was the guest's tactics that produced the next pop at goal with No 7 (Neil Cope) sending in a low driller that the keeper saved with relative ease and then Runcorn had their first serious sortie forth with a resultant corner punched away but returned by No 8 (Shaun Weaver) who was unlucky to see the ball stay just a little too high.

A drab battling period ensued with about as much excitement as the love life of Pope Peter Flaccid and Mother Freda Frigid.  It was a testing time for the punters with the on-pitch constipation in need of a dose of the old footballing prune juice.   From the dull disarray Hanley's Cope had a decent run and shot that wasn't too far off the mark but very little else came in the way of sphincter tingling animation.

Eventually, towards the latter end of the first 45 minute spell, urgency began to rear a tentative head but as both units nibbled at the dangled carrot of success, no true chomp was had and the stubborn deadlock held firm.  Hanley did have one last flourish with a free-kick entering their opponents box and really causing unexpected panic but the hosts survived and the scoresheet remained unblemished.

We stayed put for the break, by heck it were too cold to move.  My good lady had a chat to our dancing daughter in London whilst I nattered to a few nearby footballing enthusiasts.  All were agreed that this game had been 'crap' thus far and needed a real rocket up its arse - here's hoping.

The second half began with decent impetus, the visiting No 2 (Harry Goode) had a solid early dash but was tumbled in the corner and duly ignored by the man in black.  From this moment we had an upsurge in a certain eagerness to get forward but both teams were guilty of telegraphing their passes and allowing the opposing team to snuff out any potential problems.  Shots eventually came at each end of the pitch, No 8 (Oliver Putnan) for the visitors had a short run, cut in and passed to Sanders who sent in a turf-grazing fizzer that the mitter saved with little fuss and then the home No 11 (Kieran Holsgrove) sent forth a similar shot that again was blocked by an unflustered keeper.  Hanley came on again, Cope rifled a strong shot that was deflected onto the post and behind.  The corner that followed was delivered and met by a steaming header but was alas, wide of the mark.

The game bumbled on, Runcorn's No 15 (Kevin Exell) chased down a ball and clashed with the keeper.  Many voices were raised, it looked a fair attempt at getting a semi-loose ball to me, the referee was of the same opinion, carry on folks.  Runcorn reacted, a swift move saw No 12 (Danny Byrnes) at the apex with his shot deflected for a corner that was ultimately wasted.  Suddenly, from the struggling shittery Hanley Town raced on, a low cutting ball flew in from the angle and as Runcorn were caught in a state of uncertainty Cope slapped the globe home.  The game needed this goal, it perhaps went to the better side, the onus was now on the resident ranks to move up a level.

Minutes ticked by, the dregs were soon upon us, Runcorn were now darting around like ferrets trying to get their teeth into a nude trampolinist's nut sac.  From out wide a hopeful ball was tossed into the Hanley box with the situation seemingly harmless.  For some reason all defender's and the keeper stood still and allowed Weaver for the hosts to stroll into space and nut homeward - it seemed a form of suicide by the travelling team, but no matter, the game was back to all square and the final minutes were to be utterly manic.

Several bookings followed, a few tempers became frayed, Hanley had 2 free-kicks, one punched away, the other a blazing shot that thwacked the underneath of the crossbar, hit the line and was finally cleared.  Runcorn immediately raced away No 6 (Joe Holt) was floored in the box, a penalty shout was waved away.  The hosts came again, a ball in saw Weaver nut back and Exell indulge in an overhead kick that ended with the ball falling at the wrong side of the post.   With seconds left Runcorn's Weaver had one final punt, the keeper fumbled, breath was held, but the ball was finally hoofed away and that was that.

And so, chilled to the marrow, not a classic game and a draw the final outcome.  Man of the Match was considered and No 7 (Neil Cope) for Hanley Town was given the nod.  A composed player with a good touch, an eye for space and an ability to create danger from the least expected situation - surely a doofer to watch.

FINAL THOUGHT - Well, the chips and tea were great, the programme one of the best I have seen, the journey to and from the game as smooth as one could wish for - but the game, by heck it were a grueller.  Runcorn Town looked uttterly one dimensional tonight, lost out on too many loose and 50/50 balls and just lacked that crucial Plan B and spring in the step to make any real impression.  Is this a case of mid-season blues and a touch of tiredness or was it just an off-night that any team can get even when flying high.  I always enjoy my trips to this ground, it is a favourite but I was a little let down by the home team's efforts tonight  but hey, shit happens.  Hanley Town are in the mire, are not playing well but tonight did enough to cultivate hope for the rest of the season and give themselves a springboard on which to build.  There were many player's who I noted to have a quality touch tonight, at times they played with liquid movement and if it wasn't for the pesky framework they could have easily won this one with relative ease.   The only worry is, their opponents were out of sorts and they didn't capitalise - take note lads, get them sharp-shooting boots polished and when a pair of vulnerable conkers are dangled - grab em'.

EY UP DUK

8th February 2020 - Dukinfield Town and Youth FC 2 v Bolton County 1 - And Saturday was upon us again - another cluster of days done with the time to catch up on many fronts here.  The week had seen us work away the hours, watch a few B&W films and my manky self have problems with my shoulder.  I think it is all part of the aging process, the same process that buys the testicles a one-way taken to destination 'south', replaces pates of flowing locks with a glabrous egg-shell pink and turns the urinary flow of Niagra into the uncertain flow of the River Twat!  Aches, pains, short-sightedness, ringing ears, an expanding waistline - ooh what is there not to enjoy?  To add to it all one becomes wiser and with the sagacity a certain cynicism sneaks in and one can't help feeling that Philip Schofield is an attention seeking, disloyal bastard, the Pope smokes dope whilst conning the masses and Bruce Forsyth was a Satanist after all - thank goodness Benny Hill was blessed with saintly attributes.  And so, this cantankerous creaking git shifted his carcass early morn, caught up with the household chores whilst the fine lady took her mum shopping and then, after my better half returned, got ready and headed out to watch some more Non-League Footy.  We picked up Darren Morris en route, Darren is a good fellow, keen on the hoofing game and joining us today before coming to a gig I had sorted for the ensuing evening's entertainment.  The 4th 'Blackpool Bastards Invasion' was the noisy affair, an excuse to show some solid DIY dinnage from the condom-infested shores where I spent many a day when young, frittering money, pilfering cheap shit from tacky tit-filled shops and eating bilge food in the midst of a bracing sea air - oh I do like to be beside the seaside etc etc.  

And so we were all eventually on the touchline, this was a new ground visited and 2 new teams viewed, tis always nice to have a change and scribble about different doofers having a go.  My observations went as thus, I apologise for any textual crimes and unexplainable digressions.

The valved object began its rotations at 2pm,  the sun was in and out, the sky was a metamorphing grey and blue, Storm Ciara was giving a hint of billowings to come - all wig-wearers beware.  The first team to summon an advanced movement saw Bolton win a corner the execution of which was ruddy awful.  The wind whipped around, Dukinfield constructed a decent onslaught that saw No 10 (Tyler Devlin) finalise with a cheeky overhead kick that failed to defy the waftings.  A free-kick came the same way next, the ball was struck low with a superfluity of pace.  The keeper sprawled and saved but the home No 9 (Youseff Belattar) was on the loose ball quicker than a Shit Eating Death Fly on the anus of an uncorrupted corpse - 1 - 0 it was.  Seconds later the goal scorer went on a delicious foray, beat two scampering players and put in a cross that was laden with temptation but just about snuffed out by the rear ranks of the BC brigade.  

The game was awash with endeavour, control however was a different matter, the devilish conditions were certainly having the last laugh.  The hosts were shading matters, Devlin nearly put pate on ball inches out and then No 11 (Andrew Mitchell) delivered a corner that No 6 (Jake Fenton) nutted close-in but was denied by the visiting No 1's (Charlie Helsby) nimble reflexes.  

With the skies darkening, a flock of Starlings getting blown around and a few ruddy faces bearing watering eyes Bolton summoned a few notable flourishes.  One cross came with troubling intent forcing the home No 4 (Elliot Handley) to hoof over his own bar.  A corner followed, the header was boomed wide - it was an encouraging period for the guests though. A long ball next saw the visiting No 9 (Mahal Sheeren) played through, this looked like a real chance to get the game back to parity but the shot was way off the mark and brought a few disgruntled expletives from the travelling support.  Dukinfield bounced back, some good pressure saw an in-box melee end with the ball nearly in the net but with the keeper somehow getting his carcass in the way - phew, that was a close call.  

The half drew to a close, the hosts were liveliest and looking to grab a crucial second strike.  The highlight of the closing stages came via the galloping shanks of Belattar who went on another devious dash but who ended matters with a pop on target that lacked any real gumption.  Peep, peep - time for a break.  

Brews were gratefully received via the frozen mitts of the aforementioned Mr Morris.  We chatted bollocks and watched a few birds flit by with a draught up their duffelbag and a keen desire to find cover in their ever-watchful eyes.  The teams came back out, we were hopeful of a little more composure and of course, a few more goals. 

A battling start to the second period, the guests came on, No 11 (Matt Latham) charged forward, Handley for the hosts stuck to his defensive task and hoofed behind with the follow-on corner plucked out of the air by the rising gloved guardian.  The Town's Belattar had a run and shot next with the keeper just about holding and then the man between the sticks produced some top notch action with a long range shot saved and a follow-up effort from close quarters also blocked - grand work fella, grand work.  Bolton dug deep, a free-kick went whistling by their opponents post but their keeper was called into action again when producing another point blank save from Belattar's bonse.  

The next goal was of great importance and as we were wondering where it would come from our questions were answered and the home No 8 (Ben Bardsley) battled like a bulldog with inflamed balls.  The player seemed trapped in the corner, he somehow beat his markers, put in a cross that saw No 7 (Andrew Newton) meet with the cranium and put into the awaiting mesh - it had been coming.  

Urgency now infected the travelling team's spirits, they came in waves with several crosses entering the Dukinfield box.  One such cross was low and hard and allowed No 7 (Carl Airey) to nip in and bury - 2 -1 - now this was going to be an intriguing last 10 minutes.  The minutes ticked by, an equaliser nearly came when the BC substitute tried to dink one over the keeper.  The execution looked to be perfect, the ball rose and began to fall, it was with great disappointment that it fell into the deadzone after hitting the horizontal.  Straight down the other end we went, a sizzling pop from distance saw the crossbar caressed albeit on the outer side.  The final gasps, no team could find that killer touch although Bolton County had several half-chances but were denied by a defiant ball and a keeper who made one last save before the whistle was finally blown.

Hands were shook, the teams had done their best in conditions rated as 'problematical'.  I think the hosts deserved this and Man of the Match goes to their No 7 (Andrew Newton) for some good on the deck control, many quickly thought out touches and showing a good awareness of the play and making sure he put in a good worthwhile contribution.  We buggered off to the ensuing gig windswept but happy with the trip out, cheers to both teams for their efforts.

FINAL THOUGHT - Tis difficult to pass judgement on the two teams today as the conditions made for a game that was, in truth, a real grinder.  Bolton County seemed to come with a game plan that never came to fruition and for me they played too much of the game with any real lack of urgency.  They had a brief spell after going 2 goals down and got the game back within touching distance but then failed to fully capitalise on the flow and take their chances.  If they are to give one last push this season they need to just go for it and get their shooting boots on, they are now in a position with no room for error - let's hope I can pay them a visit and see how they are getting on.   Dukinfield Town came, dug deep and got the 3 points they fully deserved.  In truth, with a bit more composure in front of goal they could have netted a few more goals but their opponents were no push overs in the rear so credit is given where credit is due.  The hosts had many players who caught the eye and who are more than capable of getting the team into the top slot position and helping them stay there.  There seems to be a real exciting closure ahead from the Manchester Premier League - my peepers are peeled and the diary scanned for any potential spaces - has anyone got a cloning machine?

THE YELLOW RIVER FLOWS ON

4th February 2020 - Warrington Town 1 v 0 1874 Northwich - Tis only Tuesday and I am tired out already.  I am dropping vitamins, exercising and keeping busy but these dark days don't half sap the energy.  I have been using an old Betamax video to assist in feeling chipper, namely 'Norman Wisdom's Vibrate Yourself Fit' escapade.  Alas my idea of keeping in trim does not involve staggering around like a cretin, falling over and giggling like a goon and pulling ye olde todger whilst shouting 'ooh Mr Grimsdale'.  The tape is now in a charity shop, I hope some old darling gets more use out of it than I did but I would recommend she fast-forward through the nude skipping scenes and the parts were the imbecilic instructor uses certain body parts to lift some home-made dumb-bells - who knew that the fore-skin was so elasticated!  So, with weary carcass and motivating missus, I headed to ye olde Warrington Town and arrived at the Cantilever Stadium with a real thirst on.  Tea was swilled, I refused to indulge in a pie, I am trying to be good but man resisting sexual circles of potato and meat temptation is not easy.  

Anyway, tonight's game was a cup encounter, the Cheshire Senior Cup in fact and a contest that I considered to be a real touch and go encounter. It goes without saying that I have a soft spot for the guests but neutrality is a stance I must adopt or the match reports will go skewwhiff and I will fall into the realms of idiot bias.  As seats were taken, we sat close like two wintry wrens striving to stave off the cold, by heck this had better be a good match or I would tweet my vitriol as harsh as the likened avian imp when in full song (and that can be nasty).  Eventually, I put impartial pen to paper - if you are still intrigued read on, if not, have a mouthful of Troglodytes troglodytes vulgarity!

From the opening throes no team really shone, with a slight chance coming the way of The Town when an early corner saw No 9 (Josh Amis) whoosh in at the back stick and clatter the keeper instead of the ball.  The guests tried to get a good feel of the globe and played the possession game with sharp passing and control the order of the day.  A free-kick was eventually earned with No 4 (Lee Jackson) receiving, mis-controlling and watching the ball almost drop into the awaiting net - by heck man that was close!  The early tactics of the 74 squad seemed to be paying dividends and it was soon after when another move saw No 9 (Scott McGowan) gather some 20+ yards out and let fly a rasper that whistled forth and took a lick of paint from the outside of the post - what a decent effort!

As the flow increased The Town pilfered possession, Amis was at the apex of the move and from the edge of the box had his eagle-eyes on goal.  The shot came, impetus was high, again, just like in the nob-kicking championships of Netherley, another upright was left quivering.  From here 74 reacted, a corner was won and delivered, Jackson connected and put the ball inches over.  Once again the travelling pack advanced, the move was made up of 2 touches and a shot from No 11 (Lee Knight).  The final effort lacked pace but the keeper made a meal of it and just about fumbled wide.  The angled kick resulted in some awful defending, Jackson was on the loose ball like a testicle-addicted nut-job - the lash over was deemed a poor miss to say the least!

The animation of the game remained respectable, both teams were having sniffs at goal without taking full advantage.  A Warrington corner followed, Amis was on the end of it and nutted over - just.  Soon after the same player received a pass from No 7 (Will Harris) and shot inches off target - surely there was going to be a breakthrough soon!   Some choice tackles were had, nothing sinister, just collisions laden with zeal.  Frustrations were now evident though as we entered the final flickers of period one when the hosts won a final corner, posted it into the crowded 74 box where some messy defending ensued.  The globe went pinging here and there and was eventually collared by No 6 (David Raven) who thought 'fuck this' and wasted no time in whacking home.  It was a goal against the general grain but one the game very much needed and when the whistle came for half-time the guests trundled off wondering how on earth they were trailing by this late strike.

Me and the good lady stayed put for the break, we were quite cosy and not willing to leave our spots.  I chomped a few Yoghurt Hazelnuts like an up-market squirrel - my sweet lady was being strict and refused to partake - she will have to have a satsuma when we get home, ooh the disciplined bugger.

Half-two began in zipping style, No 6 (Jake Parker) for Northwich provided a quick delivery that Knight cracked not too far off the mark.  Down the other way and No 10 (Tony Gray) had a peeper attracting surge that ended with a ball out wide that was crossed back and just snuffed out by the ever-watchful mitter.  Knight for 74 was soon involved again, one ball was chased but it had too much rotational vigour and then the eager frontman was at the end of a superb move but just lacked the control when in a position of blatant danger.  Immediately the home team bounced back, No 11 (Dylan Vassallo) flicked on a quality header, the ball was played on and Amis had a snippet of space to shoot.   The finish reminded me of a 3 word assessment I once saw written on a Conservative Manifesto - 'shite', 'shite' and 'shite'.

The contest was now hectic, we were witnessing a game similar to a victim of food poisoning with activity high at both ends.   Vassallo for The Town had a low drive saved, Knight and No 3 (Jack Tinning) for Northwich had fair pops but just couldn't keep the ball on target.  Minutes ticked by, Knight for the visitors progressed yet again, he was working his chestnuts off that was for sure.  A lay off to McGowan saw a low shot come, the keeper read the situation well and kept his netting un-bulged (ooh heck missus).

Into the home stretch, 1874 Northwich were still battling and keeping their opponents honest but Warrington Town were displaying an impermeable resilience and keeping all threats well and truly at bay.  Free-kicks came for both teams during the last 5 minutes, the assassins touch was lacking although No 8 (Bohan Dixon) for The Town did send in a bending beauty that brought out a top quality save by the travelling mittman.  From the corner nothing was borne, 1874 tried to summon one last charge but it was all too late and as the whistle blew we had to consider how the result had ended up as it had.  First things first though and Man of the Match with the choice tonight going to Warrington Town's No 6 (David Raven) for the goal, a workman-like shift and a certain stubbornness in the rear ranks that made life very hard indeed for the opposing faction.  Sometimes quiet unassuming efficiency is sorely overlooked - not tonight, well-played that man, have a Yoghurt Hazelnut on me!

FINAL THOUGHT - And to the final summing up.  Well, 1874 Northwich came as slight underdogs, they did their own league proud and in truth, perhaps had a little more opportunity in front of goal than their opponents.  They had plenty of time on the ball, worked like Trojans (I expected nothing less) and displayed a quality and belief that will serve them well when they get promoted come season end.   They are a fine unit with many attributes and, as per, work the full 90 minutes and maintain a good standard of excellence - tonight however they met a Warrington Town side who were tight at the back and, most importantly, bust many a bollock whilst not in possession of the ball.  This seems to be a key factor when moving up the footballing leagues, the fact that teams close down quicker and give the opposition no time to dwell is the difference in standard and Warrington carried out their roles with great efficiency tonight.  This was a close game though, it did the Cheshire Senior Cup proud and was a good contest to watch especially for those keen enough to shift their arses on a dark February week night.  I am sure, during our wanderings, we will catch both teams in action again and wish them well in the meantime and of course, thanks for the entertainment.

ROAD RUN DOWN BY RUNAWAY MOTORS

3rd February 2020 - Maine Road 1 v 3 Vauxhall Motors - Another weekend done, it was profitable as per with a footy game had and a good jaunt along the Flintshire coastline watching the birds and finding a few lichens, fungi and flowers.  I was fagged today but went for a bike ride and had a session on the punchbag.  Whilst recording wildlife I had 'The Torture Garden' on, a film I have watched many times over, a film in the Amicus series of portmanteau productions with several stories rolled around one central thread.  Head-eating cats, death defying actors and actresses, killer pianos and a zealous collector of Poe all titilated the warped senses and had me wondering if one of tonight's teams would face a Poe-esque outcome.  There was no chance of either side taking a 'Descent into the Maelstrom' or for that matter falling victim to a 'Premature Burial' although if Maine Road were to bag a win, they could play 'Hop-Frog' with the team above them.  As a mere 'Man Of The Crowd' though I could only listen to my 'Tell Tale Heart' and felt an away victory was very much on the cards.  This was a personal viewpoint and there was 90 minutes to play before either side could crack open a 'Cask of Amontillado' - all we need wonder now is whether or not this 'Imp of the Perverse' would predict the correct score (a 1 - 4 victory for Vauxhall) or would he be taking a silent respite in the 'House of Usher' and trying to get his head together - read on, indulge and re-live the intrigue.

Brews were swilled, good bods met and seating spots adopted.  The ball rolled, Maine Road started in their usual sprightly fashion but it was the guests who cultivated the first bonus boot with a delivery dropping to an attacker's feet mere inches out but a last minute block denying an early kick in the conkers.  The ball was cleared but immediately knocked back in and nutted home - the offside flag was a saving grace for the blue clad team.  From the restart The Road began to push the ball around but were caught up in midfield indecision and duly lost possession.  The VM machine put together 3 deliberate and somewhat effective passes that ended with the globe at the tootsies on No 11 (Daniel Cross).  The player at the helm took one touch and walloped home without further ado, the touchpaper had been undoubtedly lit.

The hosts worked up a lather trying to recover from this untoward upset, once again they were ousted off the ball which was tossed forth and once again placed at the feet of Cross!  Space was had, a touch taken and within the twitch of an electrified testicle the striker had bagged his 2nd goal of the night - Maine Road looked somewhat shell-shocked and in truth, it was all self-inflicted.

With only a small portion of the game played and already 2 goals to the bad MR now needed to put in some serious work.  2 sallies forth came, No 7 (Andrew Carydice) was involved in both moves but deliveries were delayed each time and the opportunities to make a telling and immediate response were lost.  Again the trailing pack came., No 11 (Daniel Burgess) received out wide and sent in a polished and precise cross that No 8 (Jamie Roe) met on the line with great vacillation.  'Should I kick', 'should I head', should I just swing my arse and hope' all seemed to go through the frontman's head before the chance had gone and the guests breathed a huge sigh of relief.  Moments later another cross came, this one met by the belfry of the incoming No 10 (Ben Mooney) whose header went straight at the keeper.

Whilst the tide had seemingly turned the Motormen defied the flow and won a corner.  The ball was posted onto the skull of the rising No 4 (Matthew Carlin) who somehow missed the target from a seemingly impossible position.  A quiet period ensued, an utterly 'wank' volley at goal was the nearest we came to a thrill.  Before the pea rattled for the half-time break The Road had one last heave-ho.  No 9 (Jack Coop) had a solid dig pushed away, Roe had a follow-up shot blocked and Coop had one last swing but was denied by some firm defending - and that was that, 45 minutes done, the hosts left with a severe incline to surmount.

For half-time I stayed put - chatting away with STP Stu, John D, Gareth and his good lady Sandra.  Various topics were covered including the recent controversy surrounding Chivers Jelly and the outbreak of Yellow Jack in those who had overindulged in Lime flavoured Wibble-wobble.

Half-two - The Road came out with renewed passion indicating, as per, a side who never know when they are beat (I like that).  Coop delivered a strong cross, Roe tried a overhead and nearly tied his private parts in confounded knots whilst kicking nothing but fresh air.  The ball went out, No 6 (Oscar Campbell) was on it and struck an absolute pearler from 25 yards that left the man between the sticks with no hope of stopping.  This was the ulitimate response, the game had been recharged, now for the equaliser and who knows where things would end up?  Alas, thoughts of parity were banished within minutes when, from a midfield battle, No 7 (Ben Holmes) of VM played an exquisite pass that dissected the hosts rear ranks and allowed No 9 (Ryan Cox) to gather, hammer at goal and restore the 2 goal cushion.  It was the sharpest and most clinical of counterpunches, akin to a Tommy Hearns overhand right when under a barrage of Juan Roldan flurries - what a strike!  It knocked the stuffing out of the game and saw the guests now take a certain subtle command of proceedings.

The game ground on, Maine Road buzzed,Campbell knocked a cross into the box but Coop's header was straight at the keeper.  A sticky period followed, the sands of time fell in double quick time with very little to inspire the pen to scrawl across the paper.  As the home team fought to try and gain a foothold, the away team remained resolute and impermeable and saw this one out in relative comfort - I found myself with a notepad void of further inky molestations and as the final whistle rang out I was 1 goal shy of the correct scoreline prediction whereas my mate STP Stu had used some voodoo-based shenanigans to call the exact result - oh the crafty bugger  I contemplated the Man of the Match, there were no individual performances that really stood out as this was a complete unit doing what they do but I was mighty taken with the shift of No 16 (Greg Drummond) when he came on.  A player who slotted into his role without fuss, tackled strongly and fairly, read any rising danger so as to snuff it out before it became a problem and was always keen to collect and punt forward when the chance arose - I am sure he won't be a substitute for much longer.

FINAL THOUGHT - So the pendulum swung and although no team was confined to the pit Maine Road were very much left to lick a few wounds.  The team however put in a solid work stint, never gave up the fight but were simply quelled by a side who seem to win with little flamboyance and just have an ability to grind out result after result.  The fact that the Motors have only lost 3 games in the league all season speaks volumes about the set-up and having only conceded 25 goals throughout the campaign indicates what a miserly defensive pack they have.  As per, if you keep your rear tightly clenched you are always going to make it hard for your opponents to shaft you - such was the sage advice of Sugarplum Eric the Gay Grappler Extraordinaire from Grimsby.  The home team battled well tonight and after a stunning penetration didn't take full advantage and impregnate their rising hopes.  They can take heart from their passion though as well as their honest footballing style that always makes for an entertaining contest.   They continue to play the game the right way and when on the end of a beating they simply get up, dust down and get stuck in.  They are 9th in the league, have a few games in hand and with the same attitude and belief they could end up with a top 6 finish which, I think, would be a solid foundation on which to build for the next campaign - here's hoping.

A NEW MONTH, A NEW START

1st February 2020 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 1 v 2 Barnton FC -  A sewerage worker, a rectal doctor and a dung beetle - 3 very different examples all brought together by one common denominator - a denominator that could very well-include the teams on show today.  You see being 'in the shit' can be a profitable way to operate - the sewerage worker earns his crust, the anal examiner gets his kicks and helps saves many a prolapsed posterior and the coleopteran specimen has a place to have a bit of nookie and indulge in choice nutritional goodness.  Alas for Cheadle Heath Nomads and Barnton FC it is not the place to be but, in light of recent results, there is a distinct whiff of defecation in the air and if both units don't pull their socks up soon then certain tootsies could be wading through the reeking brown stuff with no hope of escape.  And so, after a morn of tapping keys, having a blow-out on the punch bag and stretching ye aged framework I pootled down to this local ground with hopes high of a match activated by - 'shit-fleeing urgency'.  STP Stu was there early doors and we chatted along to many fine folk who make this ground a pleasure to visit.  Concern was in the air as well as a gentle nip donated, as per, by Old Mother Wafting.  Positions were chosen, and once again, predictions made - one day some bugger is going to get the scoreline just right but I am not holding my breathe for fear of popping a few alveoli during the lengthy wait.

And so a new month began, a time to dust down and start a good run or wallow further in the mire, I think there is only one option to take but sometimes one is not given a choice.

The start to the game was frantic between two clashing colours with the claret clad hosts working up a steam against the citrus green of Barnton.  Early pressure came from the home pack, numerous balls were punted forth keeping the opposing unit on their toes and honest.  A corner and a shot into the dishwater sky was all that the hosts could offer until a ball over the top saw the home No 6 (Ashley Crank) calling for the keeper's assistance who duly arrived too late on the scene.  No 7 (Rio Gill) for the travelling team accepted the unexpected gift and sweetly stroked home to put a splinter in the arse of the hosts buttocks of hope.

From this early upset the Nomads pressed.  A free-kick was nicely delivered by Crank with the guest keeper needing to indulge in a good fisting (cripes, and on the first day of February).  Another ball came, a handball claim rent the air, a free-kick on the edge of the box was the outcome.  Crank placed a shot from which a bit of cranial ping-pong ensued.  Eventually No 8 (Daniel Browne) had a punt but the outcome was off-line.

Browne was soon in action at the other end of the park when an excellent ball found No 8 (Matthew Rigby) who put in a neat cross that looked destined to be followed up with a crack at goal.  The tackle that thwarted this opportunity was utter class.

Some to-ing and fro-ing followed, Barnton had a surge with No 10 (Eden Gumbs) at the end of a decent move with a low drilling effort speeding by the wrong side of the vertical.  Unexpectedly, from a moment of stodginess on the far side of the pitch, the globe was leathered across the field by a home bod.  No 11 (Joseph Knight) was found in space with just the keeper to beat and without hesitation he did just that and levelled the scoreline with a surefire thump - parity had been restored, but who could rise and find the next lead strike?

The arse end of the first period saw great combat take place with Barnton nearly escaping but halted by a clumsy tackle that brought the first yellow card of the game.  The guests were undeterred, a free-kick was earned and chipped forth in such a manner as to create noticeable defensive panic.  Gill collected, watched his marker slip and sent in a cheeky cross for No 9 (Connor Anderson) to nut home!  

The remaining minutes saw a few tasty tackles fly in, a couple of half chances and then the break was upon us.  A wander for a brew and a natter with click-o-matic Mark Torbitt who roams the local grounds taking pictures for us all to enjoy.  I particularly enjoyed the full length nude he took of Cheadle Heath Nomad's Chairman George Gibbon although reclining full-length over a lawn Tractor surely contravenes Health and Safety Regulations. 

Back to the game, the second half saw both sides get stuck in with the first crack at goal coming via the toes of Crank for the hosts who failed to put enough 'oomph' and direction onto the propelled orb.  No 7 (Kieran Herbert) lashed over next and then No 10 (Charlie Mulgrew) was allowed to run free and only had the mitter to beat.  The visiting No 1 (Aaron Lyons) was down like a sack of shit laden with lead weights, the block was effective and the ensuing shot by Knight wasn't even close.

Angled hoofings came each way, a couple were filed away under the tag of 'wank', the others were deemed half decent but not worthy of further scribbling.  Barnton had a flourishing period with No 2 (Ryan Bottell) coming close when getting on the end of a free-kick at the back post.  The effort was off target but the threat from the guests was still there thus keeping the opposition on their tootsies. 

From a turgid encounter no real sightings of goal came,  Knight tried to lob the ball over the keeper from close range whereas a straight drive would have been the better choice.  The ball fell without cause for concern - this game is all about making the right decision at the right time folks.  Nomadic corners followed, No 15 (Phillip Yuille) got his bonse on the end of one but the keeper was waiting and gathered without fuss.

The final push from the resident ranks came, as per Herbert was a shining example of passion and drive but Barnton were a solid, determined wall today and as we went into time added on and to the final whistle the only real effort to bulge the net came via the visitors when a galloping sub was denied at the very last by a roaming keeper.  Seconds later and it was all over, the 3 points were going down the road and we had witnessed another minor shocker at the ProSeal Stadium.  Man of the Match goes to Barnton's No 10 (Eden Gumbs) for being a problematic bugger, an incessant galloper and obvious threat and for having a great name - almost Dickensian methinks.

FINAL THOUGHT - So, Barnton were second bottom of the league, are still second bottom of the league but have given themselves a sincere hope of escaping situation 'Shitsville' with a good spirit shown today and an ability to smash and grab and then protect all that has been earned.  They will have to still dig deep over the coming weeks but this win, if quickly followed by another, can really turn the season around and get them out of a rather sticky spot.  Good luck to em', it won't be easy but there are plenty of reasons to suggest that their grasp at escaping the drop will be successful.  Cheadle Heath Nomads are struggling, of that there is no doubt and in many areas confidence and discipline are lacking.  A few players stood out todaym namely No 7 (Kieran Herbert) and No 5 (Luke Taylor) but overall what is transpiring isn't good enough.  The defending needs to be rigid, the midfield played with more space in mind and the front areas strengthened by a real off the ball 'buzz-bomb'.  I hear the chairman is thinking of turning the ground into a Pickling Factory if things don't turn around soon and all the players will be chained up and used as cheap labour.  If this is not the ultimate threat I don't know what is - in the meantime, the next match is another critical encounter with an away trip to Alsager the task awaiting.  Will the squad be returning home with hearts filled with renewed hope or will they be travelling back in fear of all things Gherkinised' - I wish them well.  

THE CASE OF THE BUGGERED SAINTS

31st January 2020 - Golcar Utd 5 v 0 St Helens FC - Our first visit of the season to Avro's ground was done with temperatures indicative of a world heating up and, judging by the indifference, ultimately doomed.   After a busy day at work I nipped home through clement air and had a swift tidy, sorted a few odds and ends and awaited the return of my good lady from her own day of labour.  We had a swift tea and prepared for the night's game - the conditions being almost tropical I packed my anti-sweat muscle undies just in case.  This was going to be the 59th match of the season, I was going to try and stop roaming off track during my scribblings and try and maintain a bit of focus and stick to me onlooking detective work.  Alas, this was easier said than done when I noted a Frank Canon (William Conrad) look-a-like in the clubhouse and another bloke sporting a Theo Kojak (Telly Savalas) tattoo.  I was immediately reminded of the time I went to an Ironside convention and was duly groomed.  Horrors of a one-eyed Raymond Burr fan wheeling after me whilst stark naked in his chariot of love came to my addled mind and let me tell you, I have never trusted the San Francisco Police since.  I could also add tales regarding a rubber Pepper Anderson (Angie Dickinson) and a period of my life when I thought I was Sam McCloud (Dennis Weaver) and ended up getting bummed by a well-hung stallion - oooh, the chills and thrills of it all.

So, with renewed determination to keep on the straight and narrow and avoid any further delvings into Detective-based deviancy I cracked on with the report.  I expected a good game from 2 teams playing away from home as the supposed hosting team's ground was not holding up well - I think my bet on an away win was a sure-fire cert!

On pastures of 4G the first rank to reward themselves with a moment of opportunity were the The Saints with an early range-finding shot coming via the No 10 (Neil Weaver) who, noting the keeper off his line, could only send his low shot wide of the mark.  From here Golcar sprang a trap, the pressure was put on the Saint's keeper after a back pass was played.  The keeper, in a moment of panic, tried to boot clear but struck his own player with the ball falling to No 7 (Frasier Beckett) who coolly tapped home.  The trailing team looked stunned and tried to clear their crusts but 5 minutes later they were in a certain pickle again as a lovely cross from the angle came via No 2 (Dan Stocker), a sugar-sweet nut back into the danger area followed and No 4 (Grebb Porter) was left to pick out the bottom corner with composed precision and double his side's lead.

The SH pack were now certainly rattled, akin in fact to Lieutenant Columbo who failed to solve the 'Riddle of the Missing Umbilcal Cord' when stationed in the maternity wards of Minehead.  Time was needed to regain some level-headed thinking and get the ball at their feet.  Alas they found themselves on the back foot moments later when a long ball found Beckett who touched off to No 10 (Michael Tunnacliffe) whose first time shot wasn't that far off adding a third and killing the game stone dead.  Another ball came into the SH zone of peril, the defending No 6 (Moses Yoak) swung the shank and miscued with the ball looping up, hitting the inside of his own goal and somehow ending up in the arms of the keeper - ooh the crabby devil.

The game now paraded a masque of normality with the lads on the shit end of the soccerised stick wiping their hands and getting a firmer grip on matters.  Yoak had a dig that was way off the mark but it was a sign of hope, something his comrades needed desperately to cling on to.  Despite gaining a foothold in the game the SH pack were soon on the back foot again after more disarray in defence.  A ball came, a shot from nowhere and a block on the line was needed and then The Saints progressed, Golcar's Porter was robbed, the thief was pointed out as Weaver who played the ball to Yoak who was only denied by a well-sprawled mitter who duly blocked the decent struck shot.

The final stretch of the first half was served up with little in the way of excitement, the ball was belted this way and that but no further hair-raising action manifested itself - the break was welcome and as we supped warming fluids we were wondering how on Earth Saint Helens would get back into this one.  Where there is hope though, there is a way, and even when Miss Marple (Angela Lansbury) failed to corner the Mad Monk of Muldoon after several trying attempts eventually, her arduous and determined endeavour paid off and the balding recluse was finally ensnared in a state of undress in Fat Rossiter's Greasy Chip Shop in ye olde Twattington Town (I will not mention what devious acts were being carried out with a battered sausage due to legal red tape but believe me, it would make the eyes of the Devil water and that's for sure).  You see though, the message is clear 'never surrender' is the motto, who knows what success can be summoned from seeming failure!

The game restarted, the side void of goals were having a bit more time on the globe, the only hindrance was that many passes were telegraphed and gave the opponents the opportunity to read the play and intercept any danger.  Back and forth we went, No 9 (Obua Mugalula) dashed away on a SH counter but even though the cross was the right ball to play the impetus was too high and Golcar United remained unruffled.  A melee of midfield action ensued, it was a sticky period waiting for a moment of inspiration when suddenly a Golcar ball was played, Tunnacliffe executed a perfect dummy which allowed the driving No 15 (Adrien Igelski) to move forth and bury the ball into the bottom corner of the net - kaboom, it certainly looked like game over!

A certain abandon now took over the game with both teams showing desire for very different reasons.  If one cared to look under a focused lens (perhaps used by that great solver of crime, namely Sherlock Holmes) one would see Golcar United to be keen to keep the opposition on the back foot and add 'nobs-on' to the current three-goal haul whereas St Helens played with a need to save face, grab a consolation and just rekindle some waning belief.  The action continued, the SH No 8 (Joseph Clark) sent a free-kick straight into the keeper's guts and Golcar sped away with great haste.  Tunnacliffe was the apical component but the end shot was deflected into the side netting.  The corner, as it turned out, was wasteful.

More corners came for the team on top, one needed firm gloved assistance to snuff out further problematic scenarios and then a great threaded ball found the green-clad No 11 (Ryan John-McHaye) who only had the SH mitter to beat.  The protector of the meshing was rounded, a dig at goal executed but SH's No 2 (Stephen Brown's) tackle was resolute and of a certain A-grade class that made sure no further leakage was had.  More corners followed, more shots came, the pressure was on the pack in the cack (I do apologise) until Yoak was let loose and went on a strong run that was disappointingly finalised by a wild, wild lash into the great sable beyond - note made - you must do better sir!

The clock was ticking, the ball was in a place of no concern when Igleski for Golcar spied goal from distance, let fly and picked out a quite pearling strike.  It was a layer of icing on a very well-baked cake, it was the goal of the night, it was insult to injury for the scrambling Saint's squad.  Before the final toll came Yoak went on a superb run for the Blues that dissected the United defence but again the end execution was lacking (just).  Straight up the other end of the park we travelled, a one on one with the keeper saw the luckless man between the sticks beaten but the post come to his rescue.  Alas Lady Fortune was being a nasty old bint tonight and the ball fell to No 12 (Josh Shields) who tapped home, brought up the 5-goal tally and finished any hope of a miraculous turn-around for the well beaten Saints.  Soon after the night was done, we hadn't expected such a one sided scoreline, these Non-League events never fail to baffle - it goes without saying the pre-match predictions were not even close (although I did predict 5 goals).  Man of the Match goes to Golcar United's No 2 (Dan Stocker) for being an immovable force, a strict disciplined player and a willing option whenever the play moved forth - variety is the spice of soccer life and this hoofer certainly added his two-penneth worth!

FINAL THOUGHT - And so, one side whooped, one side winning with ease and yet, so many questions unanswered.  I called upon Miss Marple who was in attendance tonight, she was clueless, I put the case for both teams forward to the eminent C. Auguste Dupin who remained void of solution, I even consulted the notebooks of Jim Rockford but answers were sorely lacking.  My own investigatory procedures and due scribblings were finally used and for me St Helens just lacked ideas tonight, were caught cold early on and never really recovered. Again a lack of width seemed to create concern, a rigidity in the rear was an ongoing niggle and support when sprinting forth was slow in coming.  There are positives though the team is laden with players who have quick feet and an abundance of pace, the key is to counterbalance this with some height, strength and positional composure - the squad though is way down in the league and looking to be in a spot of bother - they can still escape but it is going to need some very strict focus.  Golcar United did the business tonight and looked a team with potential.  Tis hard to judge them on tonight's performance as the opposition were sorely out of sorts but with games in hand and confidence high they look set to finish the season in the top 10 at least.  The positive factors are the team's communication, camaraderie and consistent efforts when in possession and when chasing the ball - this should always make them competitive and a unit to take seriously.  Despite winning by 5 goals tonight I do believe they could sharpen matters up front, if they do, by heck, who knows what the outcome could be!  

And that is that, 5 goals to finish the month and home in time to watch a late-night edition of 'Hawaii 5-0'.  Another busy month of doing done by us, another month of doing nowt constructive for many had - as in the words of Steve McGarret though 'Fuck em' Danno' and carry on doing!

NB - The Mad Monk of Muldoon has just received 6 years hard-labour for crimes against the banger, he will also be receiving psychiactric assistance from Professor Bratwurst of the Allantoid University - he has my sincerest best wishes!