7th August 2018 - Cheadle Town 1 v 4 New Mills - I am shagged out at the mo, tis that time of year when I have run myself ragged chasing wildlife, recording what I see and having the fungus season hanging just around the corner. I have a few gigs lined up, exposing the usual DIY dogs and the CD reviews never end - phew. The football season is upon us, this is my 3rd match, a local dabbling featuring 2 teams I have seen many times. I have many grounds on the doorstep, it is good to nip in and support when I can, sometimes it is frustrating that I can' t be everywhere but there ya go - cloning is a long way off and is the world ready for a Fungalpunk army - they say one is enough (rotten bastards). So a day off work and used to tackle many things, time taken to finish my latest book 'The Great Gatsby' was crucial and several chores advanced a little further and avoided having my eye blacked by my good lady (I doth jest). Tea was chomped, the ground arrived at, many familiar faces were in attendance and company enjoyed. My pen was at the ready, the players came out - by heck, I best crack on.
The start to this one was wide open with a noticeable slackness and lack of uniformity apparent all over the pitch. No 7 (Remeece Brown) for the Town was the first to take advantage of the gaping opportunities but the shot was rushed, the ball duly dragged wide of the mark. No sooner had I scribbled my notes than No 9 (Rhys Webb) was weaving forth and pot-shotting but the guest keeper (Michael Street) blocked well and quelled an early breakthrough. The Millers were now under a well-brandished cosh but broke from the pressure and produced a neat bit of wing work that led to a cross and 'bang', No 2 (Jack Beswick) pounced like a magpie on a squashed squirrel, 0 - 1 - the flow had been defied. The visitors now perked up and No 9 (Aaron Dwyer) had 2 quick efforts, a lob and a drive, none of which were testing for the home mittman but which maintained a rising impetus. The good work was there to be built upon but a hopeful ball tossed forth by the Town saw the Millers keeper ponder, dawdle and duly cock-up. Webb caused consternation, pilfered on the line and slotted home - a faux pas by the man between the sticks, we were all level again. At this point I was accosted by a modern day Nostradamus, I was given an insight into how the season will pan out, it is a long story but if you stay tuned to the reports this season the prophet will be held aloft for his glorious insight or duly named and shamed for his misguided predicting mania - watch this space folks!
The game continued, a clobbering for the home No 1 (Daniel Whiting) led to a booking as New Mills looked to reassert their authority. The game was still reckless, both teams playing with untamed abandon and no doubt causing cerebral mystification of any defensive connoisseurs in the crowd. Brown for Cheadle went on a mission, rode several challenges, laid off to Webb who duly won a corner. The ball came in, a handball claim was hopeful, turned down and New Mills broke but were halted in their tracks by a scrambling rear pack. No 11 (Ruben Abreu) for The Town had the next chance, the keeper's hand was strong and from here a quiet spell came with general organisation still lacking. The Millers were looking the tighter unit though with No 7 (Ben Brooks) and Dwyer obvious release valves. A few chances came the visitors way late on but were nothing to write home about, instead I sent a death threat to my parents just for the hell of it (gotta keep life colourful don't ya know). The referee ended the fiasco, half time talks were needed, ping pong football ain't no good for the arthritic neck that's for sure!
I stayed put for half-time and nattered to the Stockport Town secretary about the ins and outs of this grimy but glorious game - thoroughly enjoyed it was too.
The teams came out for half two, the initial play was compelling and exhibited a rollicking desire. Dwyer was through on a brace of occasions but the 2 shots executed were too casual and highly disappointing. A scuffle came soon after, a talking to sufficed, Cheadle attacked, a ball in was palmed out, a poke close in was saved, the crazy football was rearing its head once more. As Cheadle found a spring in their step The Millers broke with Dwyer at the forefront of matters and wasting no time in using his sharp thinking and cool brow to cultivate a shot that found the back of the net - a decent strike indeed and just what was needed to heighten the levels on intrigue. From here the mania persisted, The NM lads were shading the level of quality and providing the better chances for the next strike. As the minutes ticked, Cheadle forced their opponents into deeper territory but there was always the threat of a counter strike, something the home heads needed to be very wary of. No sooner had my thoughts passed from cranium to paper than a break came. A throw in, a shot, a save and a follow up - No 8 (Carlos Meakin) was the beneficiary from a tame keeping palm and cracked home with general ease.
The game, as a contest, was now done. We went into the stretch for home expecting a New Mills win and as they still showed good hunger they also looked to contain matters and see the game to its rightful conclusion. A dry patch followed, Abreu for Cheadle had a blast over and then, from seemingly no apparent danger, No 4 (Aaron Kirk) for New Mills found himself with the ball 35 yards from goal and had a 'fuck it and see' moment. He swung the shank, the ball was propelled forth with sizzling intent, the goalkeeper stretched but saw the projectile fly by with pace and duly punish the awaiting mesh work. A ruddy fine strike, the icing on the lopsided cake and even a bout of late pushing from the hosts could only produce a volley wide from Webb. In return No 10 (Jordan Milne) leathered one for The Millers but was wayward and soon after, that was that. Man of the Match goes to No 10 (Jordan Milne) of New Mills for a hard working and subtle performance that kept his team ticking over in the right direction and competitive throughout - it was a shift done quietly but effectively. I appreciate that. Farewells were had, I buggered off home, what a funny game it had been!
FINAL THOUGHT - This game was a capricious affair guided by the hand of old Mother Wayward who insisted caution was thrown to the wind and a certain carefree venture was indulged in. Both teams (despite the convincing victory for the visitors) need to tighten a few nuts and bolts and make sure they are well drilled in what they do before they hit the hallowed turf again. The ball went back and forth quicker than the pendulous knackers of Eddie Large and at times the defensive cohesion was about as effective as Sid Little in an arm wrestling competition. I enjoyed matters nonetheless, I come, go and just want to see a game - tis great to be a neutral and just take the game for what it is and support oodles of sides rather than just one. Where these teams will end up is anyone's guess, one has ideas, one is looking to remain consistent, on this evidence a gambling man would do well to keep his coins next to his conkers. I contacted the aforementioned visionary after the match to see if he could shed any light on matters. He asked me to pop around his place and look upon his crystal ball - the dirty bugger, I know that operation down below had effected his mind!
Thursday, 9 August 2018
Wednesday, 8 August 2018
BACH IN THE GROOVE
6th August 2018 - Sandbach Utd 3 v 0 Cheadle Heath Nomads - A midweek pootle with the weather set dry (what's new) and the temperature set warm (they didn't mention the nob-nipping wind). I had been off work today, been for a cycle, caught up with a few bugs and ran over a small dog that burst out of nowhere like a fart from a straining sphincter. The dog was fine, the owners apologetic, and so was I (on both counts). The afternoon was spent catching up, doing an interview for RSPB Stafford, sorting some wildlife photo's, listening to a bit of proto-punk (The Sonics and The Monks) and pondering about getting a new tattoo on me arse - I was tossing up between a nude Cliff Richard on a pogo-stick or a 'Barry Chuckle was a Glue-Sniffer' slogan just to be controversial. After taking my recent batch of head meds I decided to abandon both ideas and spend my money on a 'Dickie Davies Touched Me T-Shirt'. My wife says I'll get in trouble one day, but as I always say, I can plead insanity as good as the man in the adjoining rubber room. So, my lady came home, we got sorted, we headed on down to the ground and arrived with time to slurp and jaw wag with some decent folk. I had no idea how this one would go, I have lost my touch over the summer, in fact I never had it so here is the report free of any embarrassing predictions. Positions taken, tea finished, ball rotating - and...GO!
The commencement had plenty of fizz, the hosts were up for this after their season opening shock loss and so ran with gusto and chased every ball like a testicle-obsessed nut doctor (I have known a few tha' knows). The first opportunity to bust netting came via the home heads with a smart threaded ball finding the feet of the dashing No 6 (Ryan Allcock) who unfortunately dragged disappointingly wide. A stature grew in the hearts of the Sandbachians, The Nomadic 'erberts needed to stay solid and most importantly, calm. A eye-catching move came via the SB squad yet again, No 10 (Kieran Garner-Knapper) finalised matters with a low shot but the visiting keeper sprawled well and conceded the corner rather than the goal. The corner was wasted but Sandbach were rolling hard and No 11 (Michael Blundell) was certainly a pesky customer who needed special attention. Several gratis punts were won, somehow Cheadle managed to keep the goalmouth unmolested but the players were getting tetchy with their disarray - a creeping stress that was surely not going to help matters.
Allcock and No 7 (Josh Lane) were next to advance at the Linotype pack with quality link up play leading to a defensive panic that saw the ball belted behind. A brace of corners came, the one way traffic continued, No 9 (James Kirby) chanced his shank but was over eager and blazed high. The guests were living on a knife edge and soon after the blade was brandished with spiteful intent and an assassin move saw Kirby stay collected in the box and coolly lift the ball over the diving mitttman and break the most frustrating deadlock. The goal had been coming, there had only been one team in this, it was a justifiable strike. In the dregs of the half Kirby broke again but was thwarted by the keeper's feet and at the very last a Nomads free-kick was chucked high whereupon the keeper fumbled and brought a roar of hope from the guest bench. The gloved one recovered (just) and into the dressing room his side went, perhaps unlucky to be only one goal ahead.
My missus and I took shelter from a nipping wind. My nipples were getting angry, we supped tea and shared a Lion Bar - my nipples were happier.
The second half began with The Nomads ablaze and playing with a gratifying urgency that indicated desperate desire - those half-time verbal laxatives were certainly doing the trick. Despite being under the early cosh, Sandbach had the first chances via Garner-Knapper who flashed one right across the goal face and Kirby who had an off-centre lob. A free-kick soon after was dealt with and the Nomads broke. A superb cross was hammered in via No 10 (Liam Millen), the final touch was just missed, unlucky indeed. A great passing sequence was cultivated by the traveling squad, a corner was the reward, a corner that was duly wasted. A few crosses followed, recipients were late on arrival but the fight back was applaudable and the home side had their hands full maintaining their precarious advantage. A penalty shout soon after was hopeful but a strong run from the guest No 2 (Liam Danaher) held more promise and a foul was forced. The free-kick brought a corner, Sandbach mopped up and broke - Kirby was galloping, No 7 (Craig Coates) for Cheadle in hot pursuit. The defensive tackle put in was a stunner, if points were going to be gained for Cheadle this was a moment to remember.
From here a few subs and bookings came, verbals overran and crosses came at both ends in a game that was now truly aflame. Cheadle's No 15 (Danny Browne) was effective since gracing the greenery and had a shot that just lacked killer contact - promising though, promising! This frisky encounter now moved into the back end depths (ooh heck, I am sure there is something homo-erotic in that statement). 2 Nomadic free-kicks came, but like an amputee postman, the quality of the deliveries were shite. Suddenly from the wrong end of the shit stick Kirby for Sandbach found space, turned, twatted and tingled the digits of the man between the sticks. It was a warning, a warning not heeded and after Cheadle had a minor chance Kirby came forward, spied the slightest glimpse of goal and slotted home like a seasoned pro (no not a whore dipped in herbs). It was a kidney punch for the side on the receiving end, and as they battled back and tried to salvage something from a match that was slipping through their grasp another break was had, Kirby was the man once again leading the charge and, just before the final whistle fractured the night air, he bagged his personal hat-trick and killed the game stone dead. The game was up, farewells had, the Man of the Match was undoubtedly the Sandbach United No 9 (James Kirby) who scored three but more importantly put in an outstanding stint and even when not in possession, he ran like a good un' and put the visiting defense under severe pressure - a fine example to all.
FINAL THOUGHT - A game of 2 halves, the first seeing the Linotypers get a real wake up call and get run ragged and shown that this league has teams in it that will certainly be no push over. Incredibly, after a 45 minute drubbing they only conceded one goal but, after a complete turnaround in the second half that displayed fine spirit, they conceded two - oh ye perverse footballing Gods, are we just mortals to be eternally discombobulated by your dabblings? This scoreline was I thought good for both sides insomuch as it showed the visitors that not getting out of the traps quick enough and only playing with sharp cohesion for the second half is not good enough and will undoubtedly lead to disaster, For Sandbach it was a good bounce back after a recent upset and certainly gets them to the team they want to be. We are still in the early days, it is important to get the points building and avoid that yanking pressure that can ruin a season before it has even started. One the way home we listened to some Talking Heads - the road to nowhere is an unforgiving bastard, I all should take note and buckle in for the journey ahead.
The commencement had plenty of fizz, the hosts were up for this after their season opening shock loss and so ran with gusto and chased every ball like a testicle-obsessed nut doctor (I have known a few tha' knows). The first opportunity to bust netting came via the home heads with a smart threaded ball finding the feet of the dashing No 6 (Ryan Allcock) who unfortunately dragged disappointingly wide. A stature grew in the hearts of the Sandbachians, The Nomadic 'erberts needed to stay solid and most importantly, calm. A eye-catching move came via the SB squad yet again, No 10 (Kieran Garner-Knapper) finalised matters with a low shot but the visiting keeper sprawled well and conceded the corner rather than the goal. The corner was wasted but Sandbach were rolling hard and No 11 (Michael Blundell) was certainly a pesky customer who needed special attention. Several gratis punts were won, somehow Cheadle managed to keep the goalmouth unmolested but the players were getting tetchy with their disarray - a creeping stress that was surely not going to help matters.
Allcock and No 7 (Josh Lane) were next to advance at the Linotype pack with quality link up play leading to a defensive panic that saw the ball belted behind. A brace of corners came, the one way traffic continued, No 9 (James Kirby) chanced his shank but was over eager and blazed high. The guests were living on a knife edge and soon after the blade was brandished with spiteful intent and an assassin move saw Kirby stay collected in the box and coolly lift the ball over the diving mitttman and break the most frustrating deadlock. The goal had been coming, there had only been one team in this, it was a justifiable strike. In the dregs of the half Kirby broke again but was thwarted by the keeper's feet and at the very last a Nomads free-kick was chucked high whereupon the keeper fumbled and brought a roar of hope from the guest bench. The gloved one recovered (just) and into the dressing room his side went, perhaps unlucky to be only one goal ahead.
My missus and I took shelter from a nipping wind. My nipples were getting angry, we supped tea and shared a Lion Bar - my nipples were happier.
The second half began with The Nomads ablaze and playing with a gratifying urgency that indicated desperate desire - those half-time verbal laxatives were certainly doing the trick. Despite being under the early cosh, Sandbach had the first chances via Garner-Knapper who flashed one right across the goal face and Kirby who had an off-centre lob. A free-kick soon after was dealt with and the Nomads broke. A superb cross was hammered in via No 10 (Liam Millen), the final touch was just missed, unlucky indeed. A great passing sequence was cultivated by the traveling squad, a corner was the reward, a corner that was duly wasted. A few crosses followed, recipients were late on arrival but the fight back was applaudable and the home side had their hands full maintaining their precarious advantage. A penalty shout soon after was hopeful but a strong run from the guest No 2 (Liam Danaher) held more promise and a foul was forced. The free-kick brought a corner, Sandbach mopped up and broke - Kirby was galloping, No 7 (Craig Coates) for Cheadle in hot pursuit. The defensive tackle put in was a stunner, if points were going to be gained for Cheadle this was a moment to remember.
From here a few subs and bookings came, verbals overran and crosses came at both ends in a game that was now truly aflame. Cheadle's No 15 (Danny Browne) was effective since gracing the greenery and had a shot that just lacked killer contact - promising though, promising! This frisky encounter now moved into the back end depths (ooh heck, I am sure there is something homo-erotic in that statement). 2 Nomadic free-kicks came, but like an amputee postman, the quality of the deliveries were shite. Suddenly from the wrong end of the shit stick Kirby for Sandbach found space, turned, twatted and tingled the digits of the man between the sticks. It was a warning, a warning not heeded and after Cheadle had a minor chance Kirby came forward, spied the slightest glimpse of goal and slotted home like a seasoned pro (no not a whore dipped in herbs). It was a kidney punch for the side on the receiving end, and as they battled back and tried to salvage something from a match that was slipping through their grasp another break was had, Kirby was the man once again leading the charge and, just before the final whistle fractured the night air, he bagged his personal hat-trick and killed the game stone dead. The game was up, farewells had, the Man of the Match was undoubtedly the Sandbach United No 9 (James Kirby) who scored three but more importantly put in an outstanding stint and even when not in possession, he ran like a good un' and put the visiting defense under severe pressure - a fine example to all.
FINAL THOUGHT - A game of 2 halves, the first seeing the Linotypers get a real wake up call and get run ragged and shown that this league has teams in it that will certainly be no push over. Incredibly, after a 45 minute drubbing they only conceded one goal but, after a complete turnaround in the second half that displayed fine spirit, they conceded two - oh ye perverse footballing Gods, are we just mortals to be eternally discombobulated by your dabblings? This scoreline was I thought good for both sides insomuch as it showed the visitors that not getting out of the traps quick enough and only playing with sharp cohesion for the second half is not good enough and will undoubtedly lead to disaster, For Sandbach it was a good bounce back after a recent upset and certainly gets them to the team they want to be. We are still in the early days, it is important to get the points building and avoid that yanking pressure that can ruin a season before it has even started. One the way home we listened to some Talking Heads - the road to nowhere is an unforgiving bastard, I all should take note and buckle in for the journey ahead.
Sunday, 5 August 2018
AND SO IT BEGINS...
4th August 2018 - AFC Blackpool 0 v 0 Cleator Moor Celtic - The summer break is over, the new campaign is here, the recent buzz in the air has not been borne from a sudden unexpected bee influx nor is it down to a sponsored Vibrator-thon led by that Princess of Genital Pleasure - Fanny O 'Russet. No, the tremble on the soundwaves is down to nothing more than the combined buttock-twitching nervousness of all those footballing fanatics who are eager to get down on a reality-sodden touchline, indulge in some refreshing tea and masticate on a good old soggy mass of grease-laden chips. These people want to cast off their back issues of Rubber Nipples 1976, close the final page of their Anal Internationale Annual circa 1928 and get their eager mitts on the latest Non-League programme where they can satiate another fetish, this time without the need for any margarine and clothes pegs (you would be amazed). And so, the day arrived, myself and my fine lady set off to Lytham St Annes where we indulged in a pootle around a local outdoor art exhibition, had a fine Full-English breakfast, took a couple of wildlife wanders and gave evidence to a policemen who had just arrested a nude Unicyclist outside of the local pie shop - I still say it was the gear-stick that the rider was having trouble with and that stain on his seat was certainly gravy. Anyhoo, we arrived at the ground in good time, an eagerness displayed that lasted throughout last season and will no doubt keep us in good stead this time around. The plan this season is to do a mere 60 reports and try and up the quality - this, is assessment No 1, from here it all goes downhill, sideways and occasionally over the other side - don't say I didn't warn you.
After chips, tea and an Arthur Bliss we took our seats and the teams appeared, the home 'erberts clad in tangerine, the away lads in peppermint and white hoops. The man in black let the players take up their positions, a check of the watch was had and that familiar trill of the whistle was heard for the first time this season as the globe got rolling and the action unfolded. No quarter was given in the early throes of the footballing passion with a whole lot of hustle and very little composure making for a somewhat stuttering start similar to the verbiage of Call My Bluff captain, Patrick Campbell (crikey, a flashback). The closest we got to a strike on target came via the visitors No 11 (Stuart Shaw) who lashed, forced the ball to spin quicker than Linda Blair's head in The Exorcist and watched as the sphere flew mile's off target. The hosts reacted, a corner came, No 11 (Carnan Dawson) produced a classy touched, spun and let fly. The ball headed goalwards, the man in green tipped over - a solid moment that raised hope. 2 more corners followed, the first was easily dealt with, the second was knocked to the back post were the liberated No 4 (Alex Caunce) nutted wide - a bad miss, sir, a ruddy bad miss! At the opposite end No 9 (Callum Birdsall) was grappled rather roughly and awarded a free-boot. Shaw stepped up and walloped into the wall with a re-hit thumped into the Heavens. The same occurrence followed, this time for the opposing team after more Wrestlemania affected a defending mind. The shot that came was bilge, had the summer months been so draining and had Big Daddy fever twisted so many vulnerable minds?
The game progressed, both teams refused to run at their opponents rearguard, it was a mistake and the killer pass sought was nowhere in sight. The Celtic lads were now growing into the game, the Blackpool boys were on the rear peg and making a pig's ear of the most simplistic moves. No 3 (Rhys Little) for the travellers connected with a cross, put his pate on the ball and knocked it just over - there was a threat in the air, as well as a Swallow, 2 Feral Pigeons and the smell of footballing bollocks - I really do wonder what some people see! The Cleator contingency advanced soon after a silk laden move was spun, a handball appeal raised the hackles of the bench but the referee remained like the bowels of Elvis Presley - unmoved. Towards the latter end of the half AFC Blackpool dug in, a throw, a clutch of corners all accentuated promise but Cleator Moor stood strong and managed to ride the brief storm. Birdsall for the hooped ones displayed decent muscle as he wormed free from a trio of defensive bods and cracked off a punt. The shot was saved and fell to the eager hooves of No 10 (Liam Johnson) who offended decency with a quite stinking miss. The half ended on a note flatter than the mammaries of Mother Shipton - ooh heck.
We stayed put for half-time, tired out and happy to idle and check the score of other matches. The time whizzed by, half two was here and, I hoped, would be a more rewarding spectacle.
The second period began with a smattering of Blackpool pressure that saw a few crosses come in, one of which forced the mittman to produce a tidy save. The guests worked back, the nuisance that was Birdsall was tripped on the edge of the box but only a corner was given - what went on there then? The ball came in, a handball claim was had, the goalkeeper grabbed and shook off the hollering mania. Both teams now fizzed with life, the game moved up a notch but a panic pervaded and composure was lacking. At each end crosses came, the calmest man on the pitch looked to be the visiting net protector (Craig Divine) who did what he needed to do whenever required with a perspiration free brow. A lunatic penalty shout came for the Moorites, the referee still remained unimpressed. Cleator Moor were now shading matters, AFC Blackpool were back pedaling and getting themselves in some tricky spots. No 5 (Jordon Little) for the Moor had a close in header but cracked over and after a punch from the guest keeper led to a break it looked as though the first strike of the day was about to be had. A sugar sweet ball was played to Johnson who galloped, set his targets and indulged in a bigger botch job than the lip surgery of Lesley Ash - Cod-tastic!.
From here the tempo was turned up another notch, Cleator Moor had a hunger on, another attack soon came, No 7 (Tom Mahone) was at the sharp end and put in a cracking effort that just lacked enough dip to trouble the netting. 2 substitutes for the hosts suggested that the tide needed to be halted. King Canute, get yer boots on! No sooner had the 2 new boys graced the greenery than Mahone for Moor had a shot off target and then Dawson for the home team had a crack but only found the keepers ample midriff. The match levelled out, the home keeper (Alex Cameron) was forced to make a neat close-in save and a goalless draw seemed inescapable. A late explosive run by Celtic's Mahone should have borne juicy fruit but a rush of head blood, a slight bobble and all we ended up with was a sour grape. Cleator Moor had their peckers up now, another break saw uproar follow as an offside flag was hailed as dubious - I must say it seemed a trifle harsh. Only the away team looked like snatching this as the minutes ticked away, just the end killer quality was needed to bag a very important 3 points. Into the final seconds, the green and whites came on strong, a ball came and was punted out. A knock back in, No 4 (Jamie Glover) got his toe on the ball close in and poked forth, the save that came was of lofty standards and, as it turned out, made sure the points were shared. The game was done soon after, a fair result although the visitors were unlucky to pilfer the end prize. We two wanderers pootled off, game over, job done and the Man of the Match Award goes to the aforementioned No 4 (Jamie Glover) for Cleator Moor Celtic who was routinely efficient, kept the head down and eyes on the ball and went about his impressive work quietly but with authority - it is always the best way.
FINAL THOUGHT - A good day all round but just lacking a few goals. My opinions of both teams grew but as this is the first match of a long campaign a full on judgement would be a hard task to complete as tweaks and twangs are needed before any team is up and running it seems. There was good desire from many players but this was overlain by too much rushing and not making the most of the obvious spaces available on the park. Time is of the essence as a slow start can soon lead to a position with pressure and when pressure piles on mistakes can happen. A look at the results after the match has already shown some teams to be flying out of the blocks and a few new clubs holding more than their own, something which Cleator Moor Celtic did very well today. I think the guests, on this evidence will hold their own provided they build with patience and keep their heads cool. Blackpool are a well versed club and play steady game but the lack of chances on goal is a cause for concern and needs addressing as soon as. Dawson put in a good stint and their mittman looks to be a reliable force but teams need to function from front to back with all cogs turning - get the oil-can out lads, here's to a smoother run out next time around. PS - we passed the nude Unicyclist on the way home, all his cogs were turning well and many anatomical parts were well oiled - he may be a future signing for a club in need both on the pitch and...perish the thought...off it!
The game progressed, both teams refused to run at their opponents rearguard, it was a mistake and the killer pass sought was nowhere in sight. The Celtic lads were now growing into the game, the Blackpool boys were on the rear peg and making a pig's ear of the most simplistic moves. No 3 (Rhys Little) for the travellers connected with a cross, put his pate on the ball and knocked it just over - there was a threat in the air, as well as a Swallow, 2 Feral Pigeons and the smell of footballing bollocks - I really do wonder what some people see! The Cleator contingency advanced soon after a silk laden move was spun, a handball appeal raised the hackles of the bench but the referee remained like the bowels of Elvis Presley - unmoved. Towards the latter end of the half AFC Blackpool dug in, a throw, a clutch of corners all accentuated promise but Cleator Moor stood strong and managed to ride the brief storm. Birdsall for the hooped ones displayed decent muscle as he wormed free from a trio of defensive bods and cracked off a punt. The shot was saved and fell to the eager hooves of No 10 (Liam Johnson) who offended decency with a quite stinking miss. The half ended on a note flatter than the mammaries of Mother Shipton - ooh heck.
We stayed put for half-time, tired out and happy to idle and check the score of other matches. The time whizzed by, half two was here and, I hoped, would be a more rewarding spectacle.
The second period began with a smattering of Blackpool pressure that saw a few crosses come in, one of which forced the mittman to produce a tidy save. The guests worked back, the nuisance that was Birdsall was tripped on the edge of the box but only a corner was given - what went on there then? The ball came in, a handball claim was had, the goalkeeper grabbed and shook off the hollering mania. Both teams now fizzed with life, the game moved up a notch but a panic pervaded and composure was lacking. At each end crosses came, the calmest man on the pitch looked to be the visiting net protector (Craig Divine) who did what he needed to do whenever required with a perspiration free brow. A lunatic penalty shout came for the Moorites, the referee still remained unimpressed. Cleator Moor were now shading matters, AFC Blackpool were back pedaling and getting themselves in some tricky spots. No 5 (Jordon Little) for the Moor had a close in header but cracked over and after a punch from the guest keeper led to a break it looked as though the first strike of the day was about to be had. A sugar sweet ball was played to Johnson who galloped, set his targets and indulged in a bigger botch job than the lip surgery of Lesley Ash - Cod-tastic!.
From here the tempo was turned up another notch, Cleator Moor had a hunger on, another attack soon came, No 7 (Tom Mahone) was at the sharp end and put in a cracking effort that just lacked enough dip to trouble the netting. 2 substitutes for the hosts suggested that the tide needed to be halted. King Canute, get yer boots on! No sooner had the 2 new boys graced the greenery than Mahone for Moor had a shot off target and then Dawson for the home team had a crack but only found the keepers ample midriff. The match levelled out, the home keeper (Alex Cameron) was forced to make a neat close-in save and a goalless draw seemed inescapable. A late explosive run by Celtic's Mahone should have borne juicy fruit but a rush of head blood, a slight bobble and all we ended up with was a sour grape. Cleator Moor had their peckers up now, another break saw uproar follow as an offside flag was hailed as dubious - I must say it seemed a trifle harsh. Only the away team looked like snatching this as the minutes ticked away, just the end killer quality was needed to bag a very important 3 points. Into the final seconds, the green and whites came on strong, a ball came and was punted out. A knock back in, No 4 (Jamie Glover) got his toe on the ball close in and poked forth, the save that came was of lofty standards and, as it turned out, made sure the points were shared. The game was done soon after, a fair result although the visitors were unlucky to pilfer the end prize. We two wanderers pootled off, game over, job done and the Man of the Match Award goes to the aforementioned No 4 (Jamie Glover) for Cleator Moor Celtic who was routinely efficient, kept the head down and eyes on the ball and went about his impressive work quietly but with authority - it is always the best way.
FINAL THOUGHT - A good day all round but just lacking a few goals. My opinions of both teams grew but as this is the first match of a long campaign a full on judgement would be a hard task to complete as tweaks and twangs are needed before any team is up and running it seems. There was good desire from many players but this was overlain by too much rushing and not making the most of the obvious spaces available on the park. Time is of the essence as a slow start can soon lead to a position with pressure and when pressure piles on mistakes can happen. A look at the results after the match has already shown some teams to be flying out of the blocks and a few new clubs holding more than their own, something which Cleator Moor Celtic did very well today. I think the guests, on this evidence will hold their own provided they build with patience and keep their heads cool. Blackpool are a well versed club and play steady game but the lack of chances on goal is a cause for concern and needs addressing as soon as. Dawson put in a good stint and their mittman looks to be a reliable force but teams need to function from front to back with all cogs turning - get the oil-can out lads, here's to a smoother run out next time around. PS - we passed the nude Unicyclist on the way home, all his cogs were turning well and many anatomical parts were well oiled - he may be a future signing for a club in need both on the pitch and...perish the thought...off it!
Thursday, 31 May 2018
2017/2018 SEASON ROUND UP
Matches attended
109
Goals witnessed
400
Average goals per game
3.66
Highest scoring game
Runcorn Town 10 v 3 AFC Darwen
Ten most seen teams
Cheadle Town 13
Irlam FC 11
Linotype Cheadle Heath Nomads 9
Stockport Town 9
West Didsbury and Chorlton 8
Abbey Hey 8
1874 Northwich 7
Burscough 6
Ashton Athletic 6
Chadderton 6
Raffles won
Fuck-all (bah)
End of season round-up
I set out on this annual journey with the target being to see 60 matches, mix and match the viewing matter, offer a bit of support here and there and put back a report for every match so as to pay back the entertainment given and do my small and simple bit. My good lady has been a regular escort and must have done at least 75% of the matches I have attended with a few punky dudes hopping in along the way (special mention to Stu Taylor here, grand company and a pleasure to share the touchline with). Somehow, after a prolific run I had achieved my target early on and, like the target-setting enthusiast I am, I decided to go for the century, a manoeuvre that got me a good old frown from my aforementioned loved one (one of many I get on a regular basis I may add). Extra cups of tea, trays of chips and nob-numbing freezings were partaken of, some interesting trips outside the expected soccer spectrum were had and some genuinely enthusiastic and welcoming folk met. As stated above, 109 was the total achieved, I won't be replicating that again as I have many passions and many things that need attending to but, I have no complaints and, in a very perverse way, have enjoyed the whole shebang - to those doubting my sanity - I don't blame ya.
The outcome of all the mooching about has been one of positivity with some great touchline talk had and some great folks met over and over again. There have been some choice moments and classic performances, the odd game one would rather forget and the odd silly incident where machismo-crap overruled decency and sent things AWOL. Many a good player has been seen, an abundance of quality goals and many frustrations as some sides repeatedly clutch defeat from the jaws of victory, all part and parcel of this game we adore. It all started back on the 5th August when Maine Road won their opening cup match against Winsford Utd in a 5 goal thriller - oh how the MR season went downhill from there. This is still one of my favoured haunts though but Burscough FC, New Mills, Runcorn Town, Congleton Town, Squires Gate and and FC Oswestry still rank as some of the best grounds for me. Mind you, I have no complaints about any I visit although the smaller the better I reckon and good tea and chips can swing my opinion oh so easily. Saying that, Ashton Athletic and Irlam FC have been great venues and I was so taken by the former team's efforts I took out an advertisement in their programme to help the cause and spread the Fungalised word. Applause please for the lovely folk at both of these clubs. Away from the North West Counties league we managed to fit in a few Evo-Stik matches, many Cheshire League fixtures and one from the Welsh Premier League. Linotype Cheadle Heath Nomads, Whaley Bridge and Knutsford FC will be getting many more visits over the years that is for sure, what accommodating folk they are and hopefully we can continue to sneak in the odd excursion to pastures new and keep things fresh for all (cheers to Nev at Knutsford for his friendly ways and the free tea and pie on our first visit - what a gent).
The characters at Non-League level seem more sincere and colourful than those observed at the money-soaked top end and it is quite a nice feeling to turn-up to a ground and recognise a few familiars who are always up for an enthusiastic wag of the jaw. Some seem really clued in to matters and win, lose or draw carry on regardless with that inner fire unquenched and that motivation level set at 'high' - I like that! Some of these folk will be met over and over again as I pootle about, they are a blessing and to share a few words, anecdotes and general waffle is the way it should be, we are all rowing the same way and enjoying the great game in its most natural form.
So that is my brief round-up, there are too many good folk to thank individually but you know who you are and my advice to every player, every club official, every supporter and every referee and lines-man is to keep on doing what you do, enjoy, keep it fair and square and rather than bicker and spill bollocks, encourage and perspire magnetising passion - this is a game, a form of escapism and in a wicked world where many get a duff deal we should be proud to be in the know. As per, Up the Underdogs, keep it real and...sithee next season folks.
The outcome of all the mooching about has been one of positivity with some great touchline talk had and some great folks met over and over again. There have been some choice moments and classic performances, the odd game one would rather forget and the odd silly incident where machismo-crap overruled decency and sent things AWOL. Many a good player has been seen, an abundance of quality goals and many frustrations as some sides repeatedly clutch defeat from the jaws of victory, all part and parcel of this game we adore. It all started back on the 5th August when Maine Road won their opening cup match against Winsford Utd in a 5 goal thriller - oh how the MR season went downhill from there. This is still one of my favoured haunts though but Burscough FC, New Mills, Runcorn Town, Congleton Town, Squires Gate and and FC Oswestry still rank as some of the best grounds for me. Mind you, I have no complaints about any I visit although the smaller the better I reckon and good tea and chips can swing my opinion oh so easily. Saying that, Ashton Athletic and Irlam FC have been great venues and I was so taken by the former team's efforts I took out an advertisement in their programme to help the cause and spread the Fungalised word. Applause please for the lovely folk at both of these clubs. Away from the North West Counties league we managed to fit in a few Evo-Stik matches, many Cheshire League fixtures and one from the Welsh Premier League. Linotype Cheadle Heath Nomads, Whaley Bridge and Knutsford FC will be getting many more visits over the years that is for sure, what accommodating folk they are and hopefully we can continue to sneak in the odd excursion to pastures new and keep things fresh for all (cheers to Nev at Knutsford for his friendly ways and the free tea and pie on our first visit - what a gent).
The characters at Non-League level seem more sincere and colourful than those observed at the money-soaked top end and it is quite a nice feeling to turn-up to a ground and recognise a few familiars who are always up for an enthusiastic wag of the jaw. Some seem really clued in to matters and win, lose or draw carry on regardless with that inner fire unquenched and that motivation level set at 'high' - I like that! Some of these folk will be met over and over again as I pootle about, they are a blessing and to share a few words, anecdotes and general waffle is the way it should be, we are all rowing the same way and enjoying the great game in its most natural form.
Thanks must go to all who have provided me with teamsheets and who have taken time to read these off-the-cuff scribblings - it is valued by my Fungalised self and, in many ways, keeps me firing on all cylinders.
So that is my brief round-up, there are too many good folk to thank individually but you know who you are and my advice to every player, every club official, every supporter and every referee and lines-man is to keep on doing what you do, enjoy, keep it fair and square and rather than bicker and spill bollocks, encourage and perspire magnetising passion - this is a game, a form of escapism and in a wicked world where many get a duff deal we should be proud to be in the know. As per, Up the Underdogs, keep it real and...sithee next season folks.
Sunday, 27 May 2018
LAST BLAST IN THE BREEZE
26th May 2018 - Billinge FC 0 v 3 Congleton Vale - Well, after a morn of nature mooching and a Full-English breakfast we arrived at our final game of the season...just in time. It has been a long enjoyable haul but not one I will repeat - 109 matches is enough for me and next year I will be back to the regulation 60. I have too many interests to commit to one but 60 match reports per year ain't too bad I hope. So, we arrived, pootled about in the car park and then heard a whistle blow and some shouts. We expected a 3pm kick-off, we had checked the Cheshire League Site - crikey the game was a foot and a mad dash was had and only the first few kicks taken. The wind down one side was wicked, we moved and took up residence next to that fine mucka Paul Moran, a grand gent I last met at Ashton Athetic v City of Liverpool earlier on in the season. He had clocked up 169 matches so far this time around and made me look like a mere amateur - bloody hell. So whilst chatting away and my wife rested her legs by sitting in the Buttercup-laden grass the match unfolded and these are my observations.
The wind whipped, Congleton seemed the more controlled team and looked to play the ball on a surface well baked and unforgiving. Billinge, in their pea-green shirts generated the first real attack and finalised a fair move with a blast from No 10 (Jack Irlam). The ball however was wind-assisted and flew with pace off target. Both units were playing narrow, it was making for an unappealing spectacle and out of the midfield mess No 9 (Rob Ablewhite) chanced his peg but could only find the mittman's midriff. After another wild effort by Irlam came then The Vale responded with some tidy and efficient play. Eventually a ball was threaded to their No 9 (Brian Barton) who turned on a tadpole's tit, sent forth a mid-paced effort that bumbled over the stretched keeper and put the first strike on the scoresheet. It wasn't a classic goal but it broke a tight deadlock. It wasn't long after that the visitors were applying more pressure and duly won a free-kick after Irlam executed another quick turn and was put on his arse. The free-kick was floated by No 11 (Aaron Cooke), the ball hung and then dropped (a bit like a parachutist's nuts when sneezing in mid-air) and missed the keepers raised arms by mere inches. No 10 (James Dodd) was the next visiting player through but the home No 3 (Brad Bailey) was quick to eye the danger and put in a very good tackle indeed. A corner followed, went in, out and ended with a shabby shot over the horizontal.
BIllinge were on the back foot now, they did manage to get a free-kick on-line but the goalies hands were glue-like (Evo-Stik of course) and held on with authority. No 8 (Steve Wolhuter) advanced for the hosts next, he won a foul and a free-kick followed via the toes of Irlam - just too high. A delicious Billinge foray followed; No 11 (Craig Byrom) was an integral component but some leaning in the box brought an untimely whistle and the move was halted. The same team came again, a sweet sequence saw Ablewhite put in a choice touch but the end cross sail over all heads, and the touchline. A late gratis-boot for Congo saw a weak kick in followed by an equally delicate header and that was that - 0 - 2 and it seemed the 3 points were only going one way.
A wander, a cuppa and a snap of the teamsheets and back out into the buttercup blessed grass, an area that Paul Moran described as 'yellow stuff' growing in between 'green stuff' - ooh the ruddy philistine!
The second half began, an early corner for the travellers saw a cracking ball go into the perilous patch. No 4 (Chris Lawton) put a firm noggin on the globe, the post was rattled, brief confusion ensued and somehow matters were dealt with. End to end play was indulged in, nothing concrete was noted Cooke came close for Congleton but other than that - my hands could leave the scribbling duties for a while. Eventually Congleton pushed with purpose, a throw in, a moment of danger and a penalty shout - the referee looked to contemplate the incident and then gave a foul throw - how odd! This bizarre call was soon forgotten when the same team advanced, and No 10 (Jame Dodd) shot at point blank range. The keeper who looked a little uncertain in the first half blocked mighty well and kept his team within touching distance. No 14 (Ryan Brookes) had a dreadful shot that had me reaching for my shorts and pondering an appearance but soon after he was closer with a cross cum shot that hit the stanchion and put a different type of wind up the keeper.
Down the back stretch, the Congo river was running with force as Billinge tried mighty hard to swim against the current. No 6 (Dan Beuhler) for the black and white boys swiveled and shot wide and then the Pea-Bodies had a scarce thrust with Irlam sawing in a daisy decapitator at a sharp angle that the keeper pounced on and did well to hold. Beuhler and Brookes linked up at the other end the shot though was too tame and caused little fuss. Brookes ran again late on and put in a sweet cross that missed all incomers and then Cooke put forth a delectable chip (aren't all chips delectable) that just wouldn't drop in time to bring up the 3rd. A sweet volley soon after was ruled offside and then with the last kick of the game Cooke connected on a cross and put one over the keeper and settled the scoreline as 0 - 3 whilst giving me my 400th goal of the season. The referee blew, farewells were said and that me old china...was that. The final Man of the Match choice goes to Congleton Vale's No 11 (Aaron Cooke) for a work-man-like performance, several good runs, a bit of off-the-ball thinking and of course, 2 goals.
FINAL THOUGHT - Today both teams looked to just want to get the season done and played a match out in what was far from easy conditions. The wind was a ruination, the surface hard and unaccommodating but Congleton Vale worked that little bit harder, a bit more presence and moved with greater urgency to take all 3 points and end the season on a high note. Billinge looked out of sync and a trifle sluggish but having said this their campaign has been a rewarding one with their highest ever finish and a cup in the bag - can't be bad can it. I shall now have a break and hopefully catch up with these teams in the new season whilst doing a bit more pootling around the Cheshire League. Knutsford FC look bang on to bring home the bacon again and it is up to all the rest to up their game - challenge set fellas, enjoy the rest and then get at it - it has been a pleasure.
The wind whipped, Congleton seemed the more controlled team and looked to play the ball on a surface well baked and unforgiving. Billinge, in their pea-green shirts generated the first real attack and finalised a fair move with a blast from No 10 (Jack Irlam). The ball however was wind-assisted and flew with pace off target. Both units were playing narrow, it was making for an unappealing spectacle and out of the midfield mess No 9 (Rob Ablewhite) chanced his peg but could only find the mittman's midriff. After another wild effort by Irlam came then The Vale responded with some tidy and efficient play. Eventually a ball was threaded to their No 9 (Brian Barton) who turned on a tadpole's tit, sent forth a mid-paced effort that bumbled over the stretched keeper and put the first strike on the scoresheet. It wasn't a classic goal but it broke a tight deadlock. It wasn't long after that the visitors were applying more pressure and duly won a free-kick after Irlam executed another quick turn and was put on his arse. The free-kick was floated by No 11 (Aaron Cooke), the ball hung and then dropped (a bit like a parachutist's nuts when sneezing in mid-air) and missed the keepers raised arms by mere inches. No 10 (James Dodd) was the next visiting player through but the home No 3 (Brad Bailey) was quick to eye the danger and put in a very good tackle indeed. A corner followed, went in, out and ended with a shabby shot over the horizontal.
BIllinge were on the back foot now, they did manage to get a free-kick on-line but the goalies hands were glue-like (Evo-Stik of course) and held on with authority. No 8 (Steve Wolhuter) advanced for the hosts next, he won a foul and a free-kick followed via the toes of Irlam - just too high. A delicious Billinge foray followed; No 11 (Craig Byrom) was an integral component but some leaning in the box brought an untimely whistle and the move was halted. The same team came again, a sweet sequence saw Ablewhite put in a choice touch but the end cross sail over all heads, and the touchline. A late gratis-boot for Congo saw a weak kick in followed by an equally delicate header and that was that - 0 - 2 and it seemed the 3 points were only going one way.
A wander, a cuppa and a snap of the teamsheets and back out into the buttercup blessed grass, an area that Paul Moran described as 'yellow stuff' growing in between 'green stuff' - ooh the ruddy philistine!
The second half began, an early corner for the travellers saw a cracking ball go into the perilous patch. No 4 (Chris Lawton) put a firm noggin on the globe, the post was rattled, brief confusion ensued and somehow matters were dealt with. End to end play was indulged in, nothing concrete was noted Cooke came close for Congleton but other than that - my hands could leave the scribbling duties for a while. Eventually Congleton pushed with purpose, a throw in, a moment of danger and a penalty shout - the referee looked to contemplate the incident and then gave a foul throw - how odd! This bizarre call was soon forgotten when the same team advanced, and No 10 (Jame Dodd) shot at point blank range. The keeper who looked a little uncertain in the first half blocked mighty well and kept his team within touching distance. No 14 (Ryan Brookes) had a dreadful shot that had me reaching for my shorts and pondering an appearance but soon after he was closer with a cross cum shot that hit the stanchion and put a different type of wind up the keeper.
Down the back stretch, the Congo river was running with force as Billinge tried mighty hard to swim against the current. No 6 (Dan Beuhler) for the black and white boys swiveled and shot wide and then the Pea-Bodies had a scarce thrust with Irlam sawing in a daisy decapitator at a sharp angle that the keeper pounced on and did well to hold. Beuhler and Brookes linked up at the other end the shot though was too tame and caused little fuss. Brookes ran again late on and put in a sweet cross that missed all incomers and then Cooke put forth a delectable chip (aren't all chips delectable) that just wouldn't drop in time to bring up the 3rd. A sweet volley soon after was ruled offside and then with the last kick of the game Cooke connected on a cross and put one over the keeper and settled the scoreline as 0 - 3 whilst giving me my 400th goal of the season. The referee blew, farewells were said and that me old china...was that. The final Man of the Match choice goes to Congleton Vale's No 11 (Aaron Cooke) for a work-man-like performance, several good runs, a bit of off-the-ball thinking and of course, 2 goals.
FINAL THOUGHT - Today both teams looked to just want to get the season done and played a match out in what was far from easy conditions. The wind was a ruination, the surface hard and unaccommodating but Congleton Vale worked that little bit harder, a bit more presence and moved with greater urgency to take all 3 points and end the season on a high note. Billinge looked out of sync and a trifle sluggish but having said this their campaign has been a rewarding one with their highest ever finish and a cup in the bag - can't be bad can it. I shall now have a break and hopefully catch up with these teams in the new season whilst doing a bit more pootling around the Cheshire League. Knutsford FC look bang on to bring home the bacon again and it is up to all the rest to up their game - challenge set fellas, enjoy the rest and then get at it - it has been a pleasure.
Wednesday, 23 May 2018
POYNTS OF VIEW
21st May 2018 - Linotype Cheadle Heath Nomads 0 v 1 Poynton FC - The season is staggering to a closure, teams are looking tired, in disarray and seemingly hoping to have done and dusted. The Cheshire League is the one of the last leagues still operating and it seems within the next week all will be finalised. Before the closing matches a cup final needed playing out - The Stockport and District FA Senior Cup Final no less - a limited competition with few entrants but one, when it comes down to it, that gives a chance to raise a bit of silverware and generate more interest in your chosen club. I had seen both teams play against one another recently in a tight affair and expected more of the same tonight. We arrived at Edgeley Park, located a lofted perch, shared a choccy bar and watched folk arrive and the teams warm up. The crowd was primarily made up of other league players, families and people with close connections to each club with, I suspect, the odd hopping maniac still clocking up the totals (and why not, better than eating babies or crapping in bus shelters). Eventually the game was afoot, I watched, scribbled and composed some words that fell; into place as thus:-
The start was regular, both teams with plenty of ants in their pants. Poynton applied greater pressure during the opening passages of play, No 10 (Rick Bailey) was slotted through and denied by a keeper who had obviously set his alarm and left the line in good time. Moments later another ball came in, No 9 (Mark Faulkner) twisted like a cheap Chubby Checker mimic and flipped like a Haddock with a hook in its pectoral. The reason for this spasmodic body warp was in attempt of a spectacular overhead kick, the ball would not obey the contortionists request and flew into the sky rather than the hoped for net - hitch up yer truss sir and carry on. The Nomads eventually began to grab a smattering of possession albeit without any end sting. No 7 (Craig Coates) had a fair old run at one stage, crossed and allowed No 11 (Steve Kirby) to be denied at the last by a strong tackling No 7 (Matt Toole) but other than that the problems posed for the Poynton pack were few and far between. The Poynton players were still producing the greater danger but the service was lacking to the frontman and the game slipped into realms best described as drab and sober and without any major thrills.
After a weaving run and a low drive from Poynton's No 11 (Rob Black), that went shy of the upright, Cheadle had a flourish with a couple of balls into the box that caused a certain defensive hesitancy. Eventually No 4 (Ashley Crank) had a side foot effort that went a little too close for comfort and left all and sundry with something to ponder. A certain tetchiness began to sidle into the game of the Nomads as Poynton passed with patience. Discipline was now an important commodity something which both rear guards showed in abundance. Black had the next chance for Poynton with a good battling burst followed by a noticeable wherewithal to release the ball to Toole who saw his cross clobbered clear. Soon after Toole tried to make amends with a dig from distance, the keeper relaxed and watched the ball hit the Heavens and leave us still void of a real on-target strike. It was a blessing that the half was halted soon after.
Me and my good lady were unimpressed. The half had been a let down, we shared another choccy bar to make up for it - we like the simple things.
The second period started with a Nomadic spurt, No 9 (Rick Tindall) passed to No 10 (Leon Grandison) who shot and saw the mittman fumble. Tindall pounced for the scraps, somehow the ball was dumped away. 2 corners came, both poor and when Cheadle pushed again Poynton attempted a sucker-punch with a long ball to their galloping No 3 (Jake Wright). Again the keeper (Aaron Tyler) did enough and was backed up by Crank who quashed the peril. From here, for a lengthy spell, the game lost all fluency, with a lot of bluster ending in a frequent flaccid fart of 'bugger all'. No 3 (Liam Danaher) had a brief adventure forth for The Nomads, nothing came of it and then Poynton had 2 shots, one of which was saved and one of which was blazed wide. No 15 (Nick Challinor) came on for Poynton, he made an instant nuisance of himself, laying off, using the head in the box and adding a crucial option. His side were awarded a free-kick after another bout of nob-numbing nonsense. The ball was played, a save followed, Toole followed up soon after with a turn and tickle - just wide folks, just wide! Soon after a ball over the top saw Toole chance his arm (well leg in fact) and the keeper was in the way again. He duly fumbled but had done enough, the tide was rising. The Linotypers had a push, Tindall to No 12 (Joe Campbell) who put in a sweet drive only slightly off the mark - now this is more like it!
The tempo picked up, Poynton dashed, a player was clobbered, advantage was played and then mysteriously stopped. Confusion followed and a free-kick ungraciously hoofed over for a corner. Nothing came of the angled kick but tension was growing that was for sure. Next up, Challinor was away and duly shot from the angle. Another good save followed which, as icing on the cake, was backed up by a stunning double-block when Toole had 2 bites of the cherry to give his side the lead. Great action for sure, albeit a little late in the day to gloss this game over and give it the pretence of a 'classic'. Poynton now were on a roll, the Linotype lads looked weary and in disarray. Black had a shot that was stopped by the gloved guardian and then a corner was put in, No 16 (Andy Simpson) rose from the pack and banged home with his balding bonse. 0 - 1, it was a game winner as it turned out and the final few minutes were spent defending this lead with the other team scampering to no avail whatsoever. The referee blew, I was mighty glad to hear it and off we tootled, calling at the chippy and strolling home in the fumes of vinegar - lovely. Man of the Match was easy, The Linotype Cheadle Heath Nomads' No 1 (Aaron Tyler) had a great game and it was a shame he went home on the losing side. 5 great saves were executed which kept his team in with a chance up until the last - unlucky squire, keep at it!
FINAL THOUGHT - I have never been a fan of 'finals' - I always find the games building up to this full-stop far more intriguing and laden with extra possibilities and drama. This was a shabby game, the result of a long season when legs are tired and thoughts of a rest are in the head. The Nomads looked a forlorn side come the end, they were always on the backfoot during this encounter and they now just need to finish the season and build for the future. Poynton on the other hand looked to have a good spark left in the tank and pushed the ball about well but, as is the case at these lower levels, lacked a consistency in the killer department. In truth they deserved a few more goals when all said and done the Cheadle crew have a good back pack and this is something they can hopefully rely on in their next campaign. So I sign off with the chips digested, the footballing neurones not fully titivated and with congratulations given to Poynton FC on their cup victory - well done chaps!
The start was regular, both teams with plenty of ants in their pants. Poynton applied greater pressure during the opening passages of play, No 10 (Rick Bailey) was slotted through and denied by a keeper who had obviously set his alarm and left the line in good time. Moments later another ball came in, No 9 (Mark Faulkner) twisted like a cheap Chubby Checker mimic and flipped like a Haddock with a hook in its pectoral. The reason for this spasmodic body warp was in attempt of a spectacular overhead kick, the ball would not obey the contortionists request and flew into the sky rather than the hoped for net - hitch up yer truss sir and carry on. The Nomads eventually began to grab a smattering of possession albeit without any end sting. No 7 (Craig Coates) had a fair old run at one stage, crossed and allowed No 11 (Steve Kirby) to be denied at the last by a strong tackling No 7 (Matt Toole) but other than that the problems posed for the Poynton pack were few and far between. The Poynton players were still producing the greater danger but the service was lacking to the frontman and the game slipped into realms best described as drab and sober and without any major thrills.
After a weaving run and a low drive from Poynton's No 11 (Rob Black), that went shy of the upright, Cheadle had a flourish with a couple of balls into the box that caused a certain defensive hesitancy. Eventually No 4 (Ashley Crank) had a side foot effort that went a little too close for comfort and left all and sundry with something to ponder. A certain tetchiness began to sidle into the game of the Nomads as Poynton passed with patience. Discipline was now an important commodity something which both rear guards showed in abundance. Black had the next chance for Poynton with a good battling burst followed by a noticeable wherewithal to release the ball to Toole who saw his cross clobbered clear. Soon after Toole tried to make amends with a dig from distance, the keeper relaxed and watched the ball hit the Heavens and leave us still void of a real on-target strike. It was a blessing that the half was halted soon after.
Me and my good lady were unimpressed. The half had been a let down, we shared another choccy bar to make up for it - we like the simple things.
The second period started with a Nomadic spurt, No 9 (Rick Tindall) passed to No 10 (Leon Grandison) who shot and saw the mittman fumble. Tindall pounced for the scraps, somehow the ball was dumped away. 2 corners came, both poor and when Cheadle pushed again Poynton attempted a sucker-punch with a long ball to their galloping No 3 (Jake Wright). Again the keeper (Aaron Tyler) did enough and was backed up by Crank who quashed the peril. From here, for a lengthy spell, the game lost all fluency, with a lot of bluster ending in a frequent flaccid fart of 'bugger all'. No 3 (Liam Danaher) had a brief adventure forth for The Nomads, nothing came of it and then Poynton had 2 shots, one of which was saved and one of which was blazed wide. No 15 (Nick Challinor) came on for Poynton, he made an instant nuisance of himself, laying off, using the head in the box and adding a crucial option. His side were awarded a free-kick after another bout of nob-numbing nonsense. The ball was played, a save followed, Toole followed up soon after with a turn and tickle - just wide folks, just wide! Soon after a ball over the top saw Toole chance his arm (well leg in fact) and the keeper was in the way again. He duly fumbled but had done enough, the tide was rising. The Linotypers had a push, Tindall to No 12 (Joe Campbell) who put in a sweet drive only slightly off the mark - now this is more like it!
The tempo picked up, Poynton dashed, a player was clobbered, advantage was played and then mysteriously stopped. Confusion followed and a free-kick ungraciously hoofed over for a corner. Nothing came of the angled kick but tension was growing that was for sure. Next up, Challinor was away and duly shot from the angle. Another good save followed which, as icing on the cake, was backed up by a stunning double-block when Toole had 2 bites of the cherry to give his side the lead. Great action for sure, albeit a little late in the day to gloss this game over and give it the pretence of a 'classic'. Poynton now were on a roll, the Linotype lads looked weary and in disarray. Black had a shot that was stopped by the gloved guardian and then a corner was put in, No 16 (Andy Simpson) rose from the pack and banged home with his balding bonse. 0 - 1, it was a game winner as it turned out and the final few minutes were spent defending this lead with the other team scampering to no avail whatsoever. The referee blew, I was mighty glad to hear it and off we tootled, calling at the chippy and strolling home in the fumes of vinegar - lovely. Man of the Match was easy, The Linotype Cheadle Heath Nomads' No 1 (Aaron Tyler) had a great game and it was a shame he went home on the losing side. 5 great saves were executed which kept his team in with a chance up until the last - unlucky squire, keep at it!
FINAL THOUGHT - I have never been a fan of 'finals' - I always find the games building up to this full-stop far more intriguing and laden with extra possibilities and drama. This was a shabby game, the result of a long season when legs are tired and thoughts of a rest are in the head. The Nomads looked a forlorn side come the end, they were always on the backfoot during this encounter and they now just need to finish the season and build for the future. Poynton on the other hand looked to have a good spark left in the tank and pushed the ball about well but, as is the case at these lower levels, lacked a consistency in the killer department. In truth they deserved a few more goals when all said and done the Cheadle crew have a good back pack and this is something they can hopefully rely on in their next campaign. So I sign off with the chips digested, the footballing neurones not fully titivated and with congratulations given to Poynton FC on their cup victory - well done chaps!
Monday, 21 May 2018
NO ROYAL SHALL SPOIL - NATURE, NON-LEAGUE AND DIY NOISE
19th May 2018 - Linotype Cheadle Heath Nomads 1 v 1 Congleton Vale - Hoorah the royals are having a wedding! Hoorah, tis the day of the FA Cup final! Hoorah, the country is full of mentally redundant gits as well as a mass of wasters that do nothing except for self gain - hip, hip and fuckin' hoorah - isn't everything glorious! Please add own spittle-soaked sarcasm to the previous comments and think of me whilst I cut my own knackers off with a rusty blade instead of indulging in the aforementioned capitalist supporting bullshit - ouch me vas deferens. Irritated by much I woke up and cracked on, some more bugs will be recorded, I have two walks planned this week sharing my passion and I plan to keep the sightings up to date on my site to hopefully promote real beauty and ignite enthusiasm. Dinner was had, a bit of sun soaked up and my good lasses went shopping whilst I got another footballing fix. Straight from this match I had an anti-royal wedding gig to attend - a few beers and some good DIY noise is good for the soul as a whole don't ya know! I arrived in glorious weather, had a chinwag, a pootle and took up my favoured spot - once more I scribbled and once more I hope you enjoy!
The game started in spacious fashion, both teams were allowing the other space and time and some fluent football beckoned. A corner each way passed without fuss and then the visiting tribe dashed, delivered and the home keeper roamed. A ball went in, No 7 (Ryan Brookes) pushed disappointingly wide. 2 crosses followed soon after, No 5 (Jonathan Rand) for The Nomads threw his carcass in the way of the first, the second was hit too hard and missed all potential takers. No 11 (Aaron Cooke) followed up this double-ended moment of promise with some tricky moves and a shot that was boomed over with enthusiastic gusto. The Congleton lads swooped again, a ball in was touched on and a superb goal line clearance was had, I missed the player in the melee - bah. The Nomads broke from the next attack, No 6 (Callum Clegg) ran and sent in a pass, it was easily dealt with - the report card was duly filled in 'must do better'. A home free-kick was had, it was put forth and eventually fell to No 2 (Dan Taylor) who had a deflected shot dip forth toward the lower side of the bar. The keeper read the situation well and tipped over with aplomb. The corner produced nowt, a patch of little subtlety ensued with a hopeful crack for Congleton way off the mark and No 7 (Craig Coates) for the Nomads trying to add a spark to the action.
Eventually the game got some added spice, the Linotypes pressured, a shot was had, a wicked deflection could have gone anywhere but somehow went straight into the awaiting keepers arms - buy a lottery ticket sir, buy one now! No 9 (Brian Barton) for the Congo provided the next ray of hope with a delicious crossfield ball that was collected by the eager Brookes. The latter player needed no second invite and shot from the angle and the ball whizzed across the face of goal and just missed the far stick, unlucky! Congleton were now passing with care and attention, it was just a finishing assassin's touch that was needed. Cooke displayed neat tootsies when turning, cutting in and shooting at the keeper. Soon after he was at it again, putting out a fine cross ball that terminated with a cross and a tame shot. The Nomads reacted, Coates had a great surge and shot that was saved and saw a follow-up shot also blocked by the visiting No 1 (Cameron Phelps). The hosts continued to finish the half well with growing cohesiveness and better movement - alas the referee stopped the improvement and called for half-time.
I stayed put during the break, had a chat and munched a few jelly beans and then watched the teams wander back out.
Both teams worked up a good foam early on, some panic football resembled an Aldi wine list and lacked any quality. Both teams were treating the ball like a 4 cornered turd dipped in curdled breastmilk - uncontrollable and unwanted. Congo eventually got to grips with matters, No 14 (Tyler Harrison) on the wing put a ball in, Barton rattled one first time, unfortunately it whizzed just wide. Harrison came again, No 6 (Andy John) had a crack fly over and then a corner was won after Harrison battled and pestered like a gay knight at a local 'Molest A Jester' party! A corner followed, an ambitious overhead saw fresh air struck and a testicle twanged, a drinks break followed and cooled events down. As soon as the actions started Cooke of the visiting tribe played to Barton who walloped first time only slightly off target - promising indeed. From here No 10 (Tom Cavanagher) of the Nomads displayed fine desire and bust a gut trying to make headway and ease the pressure on his side. He strode forth and let fly only for a deflection to ping the ball above the crossbar. The corner missed all heads but soon after Cavanagher was racing forth once more, laid off the ball for No 11 (Kieron Terry) who smacked home like a seasoned pro. The game needed this strike, it generated a spark from which further flames of action could grow.
Now in the lead the last thing the Nomads needed was for anyone to lose their noggin. A bit of rough and tumble saw two players come together, a suggestion of a headbutt was made, No 16 (Ben Connell) for the hosts was sent marching. From this a free-kick was given to the guests, 2 passes ensued, No 12 (Carl McCurrie) found the ball at his feet and scored a deliciously sublime goal that floated over the stretching keeper into the awaiting net. It was a double whammy for the home lads who had worked so hard for the breakthrough only to see it thrown away by a moment of distraction. A harsh lesson to be taught but one that very much needs learning. Cavanagher for the home team kept on striving but from a corner Congleton broke, Cooke was on the end of it and blasted over - a shame, it deserved more. From here the teams battled hard, Cheadle looked nervy at times, Congleton overly enthusiastic and as a result no real opportunities arose that would give either team a full complement of points. We ended all square and, in truth, all fair. Man of the Match goes to the Linotype No 3 (Matt Dale) who was concrete at the back, just got on with matters and made life mighty difficult for the opposition strike force. Good work fella! I strolled home in the sun, it hadn't been a bad trip out, next stop was an Anti-Royal gig - I saw 4 grand bands, Eye Licker were bang on form - tis all about variety tha' knows.
FINAL THOUGHT - An average game with one or two talking points and much to mull over. Both teams worked hard, deserved a point each and perhaps, on another day, cracked in a couple more goals apiece. This is the major difference one finds as one ascends up the league - that finishing touch, that killer ball to open up a defence and leave a striker room to burst the net. The only thing that can remedy this is hard work. Work as a unit, as an individual and as a thinking machine that is always aware of the gaps and the spaces available. Tis easier said than done, but if either team wants to progress then the choice is there to be had. I think Non-League, for this and a few other reasons, generates superb excitement for the punter and if all and sundry give 100%, keep their heads down and play the game fairly and squarely and get thorough enjoyment out of what they do then true success is had. Personally I wouldn't change a thing, it keeps me enthralled but man, some of those managers must be on a bloody good mix of tablets to help them get through each and everyday - and why the Hell not?
The game started in spacious fashion, both teams were allowing the other space and time and some fluent football beckoned. A corner each way passed without fuss and then the visiting tribe dashed, delivered and the home keeper roamed. A ball went in, No 7 (Ryan Brookes) pushed disappointingly wide. 2 crosses followed soon after, No 5 (Jonathan Rand) for The Nomads threw his carcass in the way of the first, the second was hit too hard and missed all potential takers. No 11 (Aaron Cooke) followed up this double-ended moment of promise with some tricky moves and a shot that was boomed over with enthusiastic gusto. The Congleton lads swooped again, a ball in was touched on and a superb goal line clearance was had, I missed the player in the melee - bah. The Nomads broke from the next attack, No 6 (Callum Clegg) ran and sent in a pass, it was easily dealt with - the report card was duly filled in 'must do better'. A home free-kick was had, it was put forth and eventually fell to No 2 (Dan Taylor) who had a deflected shot dip forth toward the lower side of the bar. The keeper read the situation well and tipped over with aplomb. The corner produced nowt, a patch of little subtlety ensued with a hopeful crack for Congleton way off the mark and No 7 (Craig Coates) for the Nomads trying to add a spark to the action.
Eventually the game got some added spice, the Linotypes pressured, a shot was had, a wicked deflection could have gone anywhere but somehow went straight into the awaiting keepers arms - buy a lottery ticket sir, buy one now! No 9 (Brian Barton) for the Congo provided the next ray of hope with a delicious crossfield ball that was collected by the eager Brookes. The latter player needed no second invite and shot from the angle and the ball whizzed across the face of goal and just missed the far stick, unlucky! Congleton were now passing with care and attention, it was just a finishing assassin's touch that was needed. Cooke displayed neat tootsies when turning, cutting in and shooting at the keeper. Soon after he was at it again, putting out a fine cross ball that terminated with a cross and a tame shot. The Nomads reacted, Coates had a great surge and shot that was saved and saw a follow-up shot also blocked by the visiting No 1 (Cameron Phelps). The hosts continued to finish the half well with growing cohesiveness and better movement - alas the referee stopped the improvement and called for half-time.
I stayed put during the break, had a chat and munched a few jelly beans and then watched the teams wander back out.
Both teams worked up a good foam early on, some panic football resembled an Aldi wine list and lacked any quality. Both teams were treating the ball like a 4 cornered turd dipped in curdled breastmilk - uncontrollable and unwanted. Congo eventually got to grips with matters, No 14 (Tyler Harrison) on the wing put a ball in, Barton rattled one first time, unfortunately it whizzed just wide. Harrison came again, No 6 (Andy John) had a crack fly over and then a corner was won after Harrison battled and pestered like a gay knight at a local 'Molest A Jester' party! A corner followed, an ambitious overhead saw fresh air struck and a testicle twanged, a drinks break followed and cooled events down. As soon as the actions started Cooke of the visiting tribe played to Barton who walloped first time only slightly off target - promising indeed. From here No 10 (Tom Cavanagher) of the Nomads displayed fine desire and bust a gut trying to make headway and ease the pressure on his side. He strode forth and let fly only for a deflection to ping the ball above the crossbar. The corner missed all heads but soon after Cavanagher was racing forth once more, laid off the ball for No 11 (Kieron Terry) who smacked home like a seasoned pro. The game needed this strike, it generated a spark from which further flames of action could grow.
Now in the lead the last thing the Nomads needed was for anyone to lose their noggin. A bit of rough and tumble saw two players come together, a suggestion of a headbutt was made, No 16 (Ben Connell) for the hosts was sent marching. From this a free-kick was given to the guests, 2 passes ensued, No 12 (Carl McCurrie) found the ball at his feet and scored a deliciously sublime goal that floated over the stretching keeper into the awaiting net. It was a double whammy for the home lads who had worked so hard for the breakthrough only to see it thrown away by a moment of distraction. A harsh lesson to be taught but one that very much needs learning. Cavanagher for the home team kept on striving but from a corner Congleton broke, Cooke was on the end of it and blasted over - a shame, it deserved more. From here the teams battled hard, Cheadle looked nervy at times, Congleton overly enthusiastic and as a result no real opportunities arose that would give either team a full complement of points. We ended all square and, in truth, all fair. Man of the Match goes to the Linotype No 3 (Matt Dale) who was concrete at the back, just got on with matters and made life mighty difficult for the opposition strike force. Good work fella! I strolled home in the sun, it hadn't been a bad trip out, next stop was an Anti-Royal gig - I saw 4 grand bands, Eye Licker were bang on form - tis all about variety tha' knows.
FINAL THOUGHT - An average game with one or two talking points and much to mull over. Both teams worked hard, deserved a point each and perhaps, on another day, cracked in a couple more goals apiece. This is the major difference one finds as one ascends up the league - that finishing touch, that killer ball to open up a defence and leave a striker room to burst the net. The only thing that can remedy this is hard work. Work as a unit, as an individual and as a thinking machine that is always aware of the gaps and the spaces available. Tis easier said than done, but if either team wants to progress then the choice is there to be had. I think Non-League, for this and a few other reasons, generates superb excitement for the punter and if all and sundry give 100%, keep their heads down and play the game fairly and squarely and get thorough enjoyment out of what they do then true success is had. Personally I wouldn't change a thing, it keeps me enthralled but man, some of those managers must be on a bloody good mix of tablets to help them get through each and everyday - and why the Hell not?
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