8th December 2018 - FC Oswestry Town 3 v 1 Vauxhall Motors - A change of plans was had on the morn of the game as the weather was looking rather shifty and our planned game was in danger of being called off (later that day we found out it had been postponed, the decision was a choice one). 'Head southward' was the final decision and at 7.45am we set off in dirty weather looking forward to the day ahead. First port of call was Chirk Castle where we wandered for 3 hours and saw a few nice birds, clocked up 81 species of fungi and I exposed myself to a vicar who was out for a morning run. It was a political gesture and aimed to keep the man of the cloth pure - thank goodness my wife was with me to hold the brolly and fungi box whilst I dropped the trollies - she is a supportive old soul and always willing to help me pay the odd fine or two. Eventually all was tucked in, we arrived at the car and had a warm drink and some spiced ginger biscuits that were ruddy scrumptious. The drive to The Venue was short and done under rainbow streaked skies and we duly entered and had a warm meal to revive the soul. Pasta and garlic bread for the good lady (she's a veggie tha' knows), Gammon, 2 fried eggs chips and peas for me (I am a fatty tha' knows). With tea swilled we were doped up but forced the issue and took our seats on the balcony overlooking the pitch and awaited the game proper - here is what we got for our money!
A fuss-free start saw both teams play at a very sedate pace and look to settle-in to the game proper. The O's No 7 (Harry Bower) was the first player to hold threat when he picked the ball up in a very innocuous position and rolled forward like a stone intent on flattening some moss. He was given time to trespass and consider a shot from range which he duly took with both greedy feet. The ball was struck, looped at the last and dropped into the net over the disconcerted keeper - a peach of a strike, game on. The next action wasn't far away with a home goal kick sweetly touched on by their robust No 11 (David Howarth) that led to a short cross with No 4 (Michael O'Reilly) lashing one without apology. The startled mittman parried and the pressure was partially relieved but moments later, after the guests had a rare flurry, the potential was snuffed out and a long hoof from the rear culminated in a strong crack from No 10 (Ryan Jones). The mittman punched away, the VM engine was just ticking over, a spark was very much needed to get the Motors properly running. Another scarce attack saw No 10 (George Hassel) released and duly cross but the header that came was too light and wasn't even close to the strike zone. Oswestry were still ravenous and No 9 (Liam Parry) exuded hot determination and cut in at the angle before letting fly. Again the keeper was called into action and tidily tipped over. The corner came, discomfort caused and as the ball went out and came back in Hassell was in to knock over from mere inches out.
The visiting team were now nudging back into this one and were building with patience and looking to cross at the first opportunity. A hit and miss period followed and equilibrium suppressed excitement. The Vauxhall lads won a corner which came but was nutted disappointingly over by the effective and efficient No 8 (Haydn Cooper). The half continued without incident, the rain now lashed down and the cold started to creep in - we must be mad. Suddenly, from nothing, the travelling No 7 (Joe Brandon) fired and forced the keeper to save. No 11 (Damas Kiwanda) retrieved on the flank, jinked in and put in a sizzling cross that was connected with by the predatory Hassell. It was perfect timing and with 3 minutes left of the first half it really put the result up for grabs. At the death the same team nearly snatch a lead goal when a cross was poorly defended and Kiwanda just missed a half-chance - now that would have been a sickener and a surprise, The referee blew - this wasn't a classic but there was much to ponder.
Me and my good lady had a brew and shared a Boost Bar, by crikey that is a good lump of chocolate if ever I tasted one. As we huddled up the teams came back out, take yer pick folks, it was all down to who wanted it most!
The second period began with little in it, No 8 (Christopher Craven) nearly got the third strike with an outrageously audacious floater from a fair distance indeed. Time stood still the visiting keeper kept his peepers on the ball and did enough to tip onto the bar and then safely gather and spare any blushes. Jones had another dig soon after but the save was comfortable and then he had a second bite of the cherry when a free-kick was wonderfully delivered for him to only miss the target. No 9 (Benjamin Greenop) for the Motors could have also grabbed that crucial third goal when he put crust on ball from a floating kick inwards. The downward force was too strong and the ball hit the deck and pinged over much to the relief of the goal guardian. Chances now became scarce, Parry had a dig out of the blue but could only hit the keepers carcass and then the same player put nut on ball soon after but this time was inches off target. A pause in play was followed by a razor onslaught by the hosts. The ball went out wide, the cross hurtled in and Bower appeared from nowhere and slammed the ball home - it was the spark needed and a fist up the rear of the opposing team. The dynamics were now altered, Vauxhall Motors needed a gear change and a push on the accelerator or FC Oswestry would be gone into the wild grey murk with all three points tucked in their jockstraps.
The Motormen now advanced, Kiwanda worked in but the ball would just not settle. Eventually, from knotted shanks, the cross came and No 16 (Ben Holmes) got a shot away...but just shy of the sticks it went. We now entered the final phase, the guests were making all the running and dictating the tempo with their Captain Cooper, putting in some rewarding work. A quite scintillating passing move was cultivated from the fields of desperate hope, the O's stayed composed, pissed on the new shoots of belief and planted their own seeds of promise via a break with Parry galloping like a farmer with the shits and eventually squirting one that went just shy of the far timber. The Vaux pushed back, urgency was needed, they were caught napping at the back and a defender was pickpocketed and Howarth tried a long ranger, it was unfortunate not to kill the game dead. Into the dog end of the game, as The Town remained calm and neatly absorbed a ray of light was spotted, they dashed for glory with an attack akin to an hormonal dragon, full of fiery desire. The culmination was a well taken goal by Craven, much to the delight of his colleagues. It was a fine way to finish and during the few seconds that remained the visitors offered little to lessen the lead...and we were done. A tough game and a grinding effort but for me the points went the right way and the team that won produced the better quality at the right times. Man of the Match goes to FC Oswestry's No 7 (Harry Bower) who displayed some fine footwork, exposed a great inner desire and ran himself ragged for the Non-League cause. He did so with little fuss and got a well earned goal - well played sir! Cold and tired we headed home, it was a long drive but it had been a good day all round, until next time!
FINAL THOUGHT - And so to the end consideration and it goes something like this. Vauxhall Motors seemed off colour today, their paintwork looked scuffed, the steering out of sync and they seemed to have very few options when it came to gear changing. The exhaust needs blowing out, the windscreen cleaning and a clearer view had of where they want to go and how they want to get there had. The league position informs that they are better than this but if care is not taken, the crankshaft held in check before you know it the wheels can come off and you can end up in a lay-by of no hope. They play Maine Road next, a very hit and miss team, there is a chance there to repeat this minor blip but if they ain't on it from the start the hazard lights will be flashing. FC Oswestry have much to build on here and play in a very unruffled manner and can win with graceful aplomb or, like a masturbating Quasimodo, grind one out in ugly fashion. Today they did just enough and what was asked of them and seem to have a good moral within their ranks that will undoubtedly serve them well over the mid-winter period. It can be a trying time for teams, turning out on Grade-A grey days, freezing one's chuff off and getting kicked to buggery when they could be sat at home with a bag of chips and a warm cuppa whilst reading about the love-triangle of Elton Welsby, Lawrie McMenemy and Billie Jean King - Oh what babies came from that mess. The enthusiasm to get up and play is applauded from this end and they were good value for their win today, it goes without saying we will catch them again, let us see how things transpire.
Sunday, 9 December 2018
Wednesday, 5 December 2018
THE PLOY OF THE ROVERS
4th December 2018 - Atherton Laburnum Rovers 3 v 2 AFC Blackpool - Another midweek match, another jaunt to Crilly Park and a chance to sit in the perishing cold and watch some Non-League footy (my private parts are really holding a grudge against me at the moment). Atherton are in the shit, sitting bottom of the heap, 7 points adrift and in need of a plan. The managerial staff and players have got it all to do and I was intrigued to see what they would come up with against a mid-table side looking to rise a little higher. 5 points from 19 games is disastrous, the threat of the drop was getting closer each and every week and I hope by sprinkling a little bit of Fungalised dust on one of my many favoured teams I may help them turn a corner. What would be the plan of action tonight? Would the stench get stronger, would there spring forth an unexpected flower of hope from the clogging manure of desperation or would AFC Blackpool find it within their charitable hearts to award the home team the full 3 points, an all-expenses trip to Honolulu for all players and staff alike and a night on the razzle with a Brian Moore look-a-like for the lasses serving refreshments and working the bar (I think not). AFC Blackpool are a hit and miss side and when 'on it' can turn over the best, when 'off it' can be beat by the worst (interesting to say the least). I love a trip up to the Mechanics Ground, I just wondered if the team had brought all their tools tonight to do a real dismantling job on a side in real jeopardy - this is the outcome of the contest.
The opening play was scrappy to say the least with the lemon-clad hosts winning an early free kick after No 10 (Luke Hincks) was unceremoniously dumped in the dirt on the periphery of the box. No 6 (Bradley Aspinall) took charge of the hoofing but his shot was shy of the nearside stick. In due course he had a similar gratis punt but this time he found the target but the effort lacked any wallop whatsoever and the keeper easily gathered. In response to the home teams efforts the tangerine draped guests had their own bonus ball delivered, it came, gave rise to some sketchy defending that was somehow put right and ALR looked to push on and grab the opening goal. From a game lacking initial quality Atherton were just about shading matters and just needed a touch of luck or a moment of killer quality. Suddenly more pressure was applied to the visiting rear ranks, a free-kick missed all heads but went straight back into the danger area. The ball headed goalward, a striker looked to touch, the keeper misread the situation, Aspinall was claiming the opening strike, his teammates looked absolutely delighted. From here the Rovers came on strong, they were definitely hungry for this one. Hincks provided a stunning ball next, No 9 (Jake Ambrose) burst through and knocked the ball out wide after the netman went AWOL. The ball fell to the feet of No 7 (Nathan Hatton) and a chance to double the lead was there - alas a crucial miss followed, would this be a moment to haunt the memory banks (add own sinister music please)?
Blackpool now started to bust guts and work back in. Their No 9 (Ben Duffield) battled well, put forth a mis-pass, that was duly missed by a defender allowing No 11 (Stephen Betteridge) to wildly thump one and ahem, miss the zone. Atherton reacted, a stunning ball saw a striker advance and get crowded out. The chance looked lost but the head was kept, a pass back came and woomph (artistic licence there) No 11 (Kyle Tomlinson) buried the ball with controlled authority. This was a turn up for the tattered books and The Laburnum Lads weren't done yet as they passed and moved with keen desire and kept on creating the odd half chance. A long ball from the Blackpool keeper nearly bore fruit from a barren tree with Duffield controlling well and Betterridge belting one just wide. Atherton were unflustered and duly saw out the half with a couple more tame efforts on goal and with a momentum that was focused and irrepressible. It was a good stint and much to the pleasure of the local yokels who had made the effort to support their side on a damp and miserable night. They deserve a mention, they could easily have stayed at home watching a bunch of attention seeking halfwits play Jungle Jim in a mock up farce using bugs and prime time bullshit to entertain the dead - I think they had made a wise choice!
A brew for half-time and a wander to the far side of the ground for a stand up. Fuck that, it was a pure chill zone and feeling the icy breath of Jackie Frost on our exposed faces we duly headed back to our seat in the stands before the chilled devil explored regions best left unmentioned. Arses parked, brew downed, the teams came back out and here are some more scribblings.
Another patchwork start came with the onus on the Blackpool pack to force the issue. Atherton though looked comfortable, they won the first corner which was knocked in and nutted out. Hincks did well to retrieve and try his luck, he was unfortunate not to trouble the keeper. Two more corners followed for the yellows, the first ended with a strong header that needed equally robust defending, the second went in and out and back in with Aspinall mere millimetres away from touching home - phew. The orange 'erberts bounced back, a half chance was on the cards but No 4 (Aaron Fleming) executed some determined and quite resolute defending that reflected his entire team's performance. Soon after the Blackpool mittman had an attack of the vapours and felt the need to roam, the lad was extremely fortunate not to see a long range effort ripple his meshings (in a non-sexual way of course). His team were now getting desperate (again in a non-sexual way although who knows in this day and age), but the ALR pack were simply hustling too hard to allow any time on the ball. Out of the blue Blackpool were given a free-kick on the edge of the box, the decision was scandalous, the guilty party was incensed and given a yellow card as extra insult. The kick came, struck the bar, dropped in a perilous area and was nutted home by No 6 (Daniel Pickering) much to the disgust of the resident followers. 2 -1 - now this was a test for all.
Now the tempo moved up several gears, as The Mechanics pushed Atherton broke, No 7 (Nathan Hatton) displayed stunning urgency and led the charge placing a lovely ball for Ambrose to latch onto. This looked like the third strike, the guest No 1 (Jon Broadstock) was quick off the mark and sprawled, good save that man, good save. As ALR continued to prod and poke Blackpool rode their luck and a ball over the top caught every home player with their trousers down that let Duffield sneak in, round the keeper and shockingly slot home. I say 'shockingly', I mean how the hell had the scoreline become 2 - 2 when the hosts looked so in control - don't ya just love this Non-League madness! The excitement levels rose, the game was now anyone's, end to end madness ensued. No 16 (Jake Dunford) for the hosts burst forth, the cross he put in was exemplary, Hincks received and drilled on the turn - just wide.
The back stretch was upon us, it was a wild finish with both teams searching for the winning strike. From the middle of the park a stunningly outrageous ball was played, Dunford was on the end of it and hurtled forth with rabid intent. All he had to do now was stay calm, resist the attentions of the defender and pick his spot. He did just that, it was a cracking moment, the supporters and management roared with joy, it was, if the truth be told, thoroughly deserved. A frantic last 5 minutes came, Blackpool were on the ropes and didn't use enough ammunition to escape the clutches of defeat. When the referee called for full time the Laburnum Rovers plan of action was complete and a step closer to the safety zone achieved. Their No 10 (Luke Hincks) was a pivotal player in the outcome, always thinking on his feet, looking to dismantle the opponents with a cutting pass and providing many fine balls for his colleagues to chase. A worthy Man of The Match methinks, the coming weeks will need more of the same. Me and my fine lady headed off home pleased with what we had witnessed, tis a good ground Crilly Park, and this match provided great entertainment - wonderful.
FINAL THOUGHT - The fact is that if Atherton Laburnum Rovers play like this each and every week they will avoid the drop and give their fans much to applaud. This was a result built on belief, desire and sheer hard work, they nearly got robbed of their due reward but the fact that they were pegged back and still found it within themselves to grind out the win says so much about the teams attitude and their capabilities. Even when times get tense they must remember this night and call upon defiant reserves. AFC Blackpool were far from a settled unit tonight and simply got outworked and were never allowed to settle thus making for a long hard night that made them a difficult unit to judge. In truth they only created two chances and snatched them both and the scoreline was perhaps more favourable than in reality. They will hold their own in this league but they better be careful, if the teams below them go on a surge and the Mechanics don't apply their spanner of correction a few nuts and bolts may come loose and a struggling inner engine may follow - dig in lads, I will have a wander up your way very soon and hope to witness a renewed effort with the end result a Tangerine Dream - think on!
The opening play was scrappy to say the least with the lemon-clad hosts winning an early free kick after No 10 (Luke Hincks) was unceremoniously dumped in the dirt on the periphery of the box. No 6 (Bradley Aspinall) took charge of the hoofing but his shot was shy of the nearside stick. In due course he had a similar gratis punt but this time he found the target but the effort lacked any wallop whatsoever and the keeper easily gathered. In response to the home teams efforts the tangerine draped guests had their own bonus ball delivered, it came, gave rise to some sketchy defending that was somehow put right and ALR looked to push on and grab the opening goal. From a game lacking initial quality Atherton were just about shading matters and just needed a touch of luck or a moment of killer quality. Suddenly more pressure was applied to the visiting rear ranks, a free-kick missed all heads but went straight back into the danger area. The ball headed goalward, a striker looked to touch, the keeper misread the situation, Aspinall was claiming the opening strike, his teammates looked absolutely delighted. From here the Rovers came on strong, they were definitely hungry for this one. Hincks provided a stunning ball next, No 9 (Jake Ambrose) burst through and knocked the ball out wide after the netman went AWOL. The ball fell to the feet of No 7 (Nathan Hatton) and a chance to double the lead was there - alas a crucial miss followed, would this be a moment to haunt the memory banks (add own sinister music please)?
Blackpool now started to bust guts and work back in. Their No 9 (Ben Duffield) battled well, put forth a mis-pass, that was duly missed by a defender allowing No 11 (Stephen Betteridge) to wildly thump one and ahem, miss the zone. Atherton reacted, a stunning ball saw a striker advance and get crowded out. The chance looked lost but the head was kept, a pass back came and woomph (artistic licence there) No 11 (Kyle Tomlinson) buried the ball with controlled authority. This was a turn up for the tattered books and The Laburnum Lads weren't done yet as they passed and moved with keen desire and kept on creating the odd half chance. A long ball from the Blackpool keeper nearly bore fruit from a barren tree with Duffield controlling well and Betterridge belting one just wide. Atherton were unflustered and duly saw out the half with a couple more tame efforts on goal and with a momentum that was focused and irrepressible. It was a good stint and much to the pleasure of the local yokels who had made the effort to support their side on a damp and miserable night. They deserve a mention, they could easily have stayed at home watching a bunch of attention seeking halfwits play Jungle Jim in a mock up farce using bugs and prime time bullshit to entertain the dead - I think they had made a wise choice!
A brew for half-time and a wander to the far side of the ground for a stand up. Fuck that, it was a pure chill zone and feeling the icy breath of Jackie Frost on our exposed faces we duly headed back to our seat in the stands before the chilled devil explored regions best left unmentioned. Arses parked, brew downed, the teams came back out and here are some more scribblings.
Another patchwork start came with the onus on the Blackpool pack to force the issue. Atherton though looked comfortable, they won the first corner which was knocked in and nutted out. Hincks did well to retrieve and try his luck, he was unfortunate not to trouble the keeper. Two more corners followed for the yellows, the first ended with a strong header that needed equally robust defending, the second went in and out and back in with Aspinall mere millimetres away from touching home - phew. The orange 'erberts bounced back, a half chance was on the cards but No 4 (Aaron Fleming) executed some determined and quite resolute defending that reflected his entire team's performance. Soon after the Blackpool mittman had an attack of the vapours and felt the need to roam, the lad was extremely fortunate not to see a long range effort ripple his meshings (in a non-sexual way of course). His team were now getting desperate (again in a non-sexual way although who knows in this day and age), but the ALR pack were simply hustling too hard to allow any time on the ball. Out of the blue Blackpool were given a free-kick on the edge of the box, the decision was scandalous, the guilty party was incensed and given a yellow card as extra insult. The kick came, struck the bar, dropped in a perilous area and was nutted home by No 6 (Daniel Pickering) much to the disgust of the resident followers. 2 -1 - now this was a test for all.
Now the tempo moved up several gears, as The Mechanics pushed Atherton broke, No 7 (Nathan Hatton) displayed stunning urgency and led the charge placing a lovely ball for Ambrose to latch onto. This looked like the third strike, the guest No 1 (Jon Broadstock) was quick off the mark and sprawled, good save that man, good save. As ALR continued to prod and poke Blackpool rode their luck and a ball over the top caught every home player with their trousers down that let Duffield sneak in, round the keeper and shockingly slot home. I say 'shockingly', I mean how the hell had the scoreline become 2 - 2 when the hosts looked so in control - don't ya just love this Non-League madness! The excitement levels rose, the game was now anyone's, end to end madness ensued. No 16 (Jake Dunford) for the hosts burst forth, the cross he put in was exemplary, Hincks received and drilled on the turn - just wide.
The back stretch was upon us, it was a wild finish with both teams searching for the winning strike. From the middle of the park a stunningly outrageous ball was played, Dunford was on the end of it and hurtled forth with rabid intent. All he had to do now was stay calm, resist the attentions of the defender and pick his spot. He did just that, it was a cracking moment, the supporters and management roared with joy, it was, if the truth be told, thoroughly deserved. A frantic last 5 minutes came, Blackpool were on the ropes and didn't use enough ammunition to escape the clutches of defeat. When the referee called for full time the Laburnum Rovers plan of action was complete and a step closer to the safety zone achieved. Their No 10 (Luke Hincks) was a pivotal player in the outcome, always thinking on his feet, looking to dismantle the opponents with a cutting pass and providing many fine balls for his colleagues to chase. A worthy Man of The Match methinks, the coming weeks will need more of the same. Me and my fine lady headed off home pleased with what we had witnessed, tis a good ground Crilly Park, and this match provided great entertainment - wonderful.
FINAL THOUGHT - The fact is that if Atherton Laburnum Rovers play like this each and every week they will avoid the drop and give their fans much to applaud. This was a result built on belief, desire and sheer hard work, they nearly got robbed of their due reward but the fact that they were pegged back and still found it within themselves to grind out the win says so much about the teams attitude and their capabilities. Even when times get tense they must remember this night and call upon defiant reserves. AFC Blackpool were far from a settled unit tonight and simply got outworked and were never allowed to settle thus making for a long hard night that made them a difficult unit to judge. In truth they only created two chances and snatched them both and the scoreline was perhaps more favourable than in reality. They will hold their own in this league but they better be careful, if the teams below them go on a surge and the Mechanics don't apply their spanner of correction a few nuts and bolts may come loose and a struggling inner engine may follow - dig in lads, I will have a wander up your way very soon and hope to witness a renewed effort with the end result a Tangerine Dream - think on!
Saturday, 1 December 2018
THE PRIDE OF THE LIONS WINS THROUGH
1st December 2018 - Stockport Town 2 v 1 Cheadle Heath Nomads - The Christmas run in is now upon us, wide eyed madness dictates the flow in the thoroughfares of each and every town as atheist maniacs spend wildly whilst many starve. The hordes shovel tinsel-laden shit without any thought whatsoever. A Christian festival is celebrated by non-believers, a man will visit and empty his sack on your pillow (darn his virile testes), bowels will be backed up by an overload of toxic crap and fatheads will ring with the same old sonic shit and finalise matters with an insincere rendition of 'Auld Lang Syne' - and people say they enjoy this! Today the skies hung like a widows knickers over the arthritic joints of suburbia, the leakage came from a heavenly bladder gone twang and I am on a downer - can you tell? I am aching all over, on a dip and feel the need to burn a Vicar - just for therapeutic reasons of course. Thankfully my good lady picks me up, I have many interests and of course there is Non-League football - the lull will pass, tis just how life goes at times. So the morn was rammed with tasks, some exercise was indulged in (does picking up weights with one's nob count as exercise? Perhaps not but man my foreskin is very well muscled, I just wish I had a pecker big enough to fit it - bah) and I eventually got the head operating well enough to head out and indulge in a local game that was a crippler to call. I set up an on-line vote, the nod had gone with the guests (just), I had to agree, but this was a bigger teaser than that bloke who hangs around at the back of Asda with a daffodil up his chuff (you know the one, the one David Potter of Cheadle Heath fame said he was meeting to discuss tactics - ooh heck). So a natter with the Cheadle Heath Manager (what a grand enthusing chap), seat taken, a fine chat with a Non-League couple I meet now and again and game on - let's have it!
The early pattern lacked intricacy or sway, No 10 (Leon Grandison) for the visiting pack had a quick sniff of goal after the ball fell to his feet and the home keeper was on walkabout. The leg was swung, the end result was a low fizzer way off target. Stockport began to apply some steady play, a couple of corners brought tepid pressure but nothing too testing. After a forced Nomads substitute Town's No 2 (Connor Hancock) started an impressive 5 pass sequence that went from right to left followed by a cross that No 9 (Gavin Salmon) just couldn't touch home. It was a glimmer of promise from a scrappy start that saw the Lion's duly build upon. On the 18th minute a home free-kick was earned and was played short to an eager No 7 (Callum Dolan). The busy bod darted forth, round one player, round another and then between a couple more before he released and saw the ball get deflected home. It was a moment of sorcery kissed by the lips of Lady Fortune - it was 1 - 0 to the hosts and very well deserved it was. No sooner had the Nomads settled from this set back and looked to play on the deck than No 10 (Liam Mottram) pilfered and attempted to chip the keeper. It was an ambitious effort and easily collected by the guest mitter but all the same, it exhibited a certain belief in the resident ranks. Onwards the team on top came, No 8 (Robert Lofthouse) had an in-swinger shot cum cross float over and then a delicious cross found No 6 (Festus Arthur) with a chance to bury from a few feet out but his header was too firm and, if the truth be known, ruddy dreadful.
To the halfway mark of the first period and beyond, the flow remained the same way with a fine ball into the Nomadic danger zone nearly forcing the defending No 5 (Zac Tyson) to put into his own net. The ball from the angle that came was dealt with but the guest team were akin to the private parts of Elvis Presley after a romantic liaison with a Little Richard look-alike - (all shook up). Things turned from shit to shittier for the CHN chaps as their sub and general rabid Jack Russell (Terence Butler) hobbled off cursing his luck with a grimace on his mush. There were 6 minutes of the half left, despite having the upperhand The Town were still only 1 goal up - and when a free-kick was given to the Nomads one had visions of an equaliser coming like an unexpected finger up the relaxed jacksie and causing untold grievance. No 11 (Stephen Kirby) put himself forward as the wannabe executioner, the ball was hoofed, the goal was missed by a mile (well, about 72 inches but whats 5274 feet between friends). The half ended soon after with the Nomads having the better of the closing minutes, there was still a lot to do though.
A piddle and a cuppa for the break, this was an unexpected turn-up for the puzzling books, the couple I catch up with were in agreement and after a chinwag about some black and white movies the teams came back out. Would there be an Hitchcockian twist in the tail here, or would things advance like a snippet of Film Noir but without any spectacular starbursts? Stick with it folks!
The Town had the first free-kick, it was delivered like the lopsided gonad of King Kong - a lovely swinger. The keeper though read matters well and duly grabbed (I hope he washes his hands before having a butty) and put out a long ball. A foul came, a card issued, another gratis kick was given the same way but The Lions were watertight and earned a corner up the other end when their No 3 (Matthew Hanson) mimicked a grave-robbing Baron Frankenstein and exposed some great feet. The knock in was cleared, soon after Cheadle had a great chance when Kirby put in a great free-kick that missed many heads and feet and finally dropped to No 3 (Ebbie Rezayan) who was caught on the hop and steered off target. It seemed as though an equaliser might just come when The Town broke, Dolan at the apex of the attack burst from a crowded pack, used nimble feet to avoid a tackle and when the keeper advanced he remained cool enough to flick over the sprawled carcass and bag a sweet strike. From here the guests just couldn't offer enough to get back in it and Dolan was nearly in again after robbing the ball and darting forth like a man on a mission. The defending this time was done with authority, at 2 - 0 we stayed.
Substitutes came each way, No 12 (Richard Tindall) was immediately called into action and his flick header wasn't that far off the mark. A collision came next, Town's No 11 (Jack McConnell) was dreadfully unlucky to receive his second yellow and was sent to have an early bath. The free-kick that followed was a double whammy as Ashley Harrison prowled at the back post, gathered, blasted and reduced the deficit in robust style - the aforementioned turn of fate was still in the air. Now down the home stretch we travelled, a few more subs, The Heath determined, The Town desperate. Tindall produced a moment of magic with a pearling ball that found No 15 (Daniel Clarke) who won a corner. Before the ball entered the box Grandison and the home keeper (Andrei Stinca) received a yellow card each for getting too up close and personal with one another (the dirty devils). When the ball did come it did so with fiery pace and missed all potential takers. A melee followed, a penalty claim had, play was waved on. As Cheadle huffed and puffed to blow the home-sides house down Hanson knocked a delicious ball back against the tide only to see his colleague (Braulio Maieco) waved offside - now that could have been a real quality moment. At the death Kirby had space to bust net but blazed over and then a tackle and some unnecessary naughty afters saw Salmon get sent marching before the game was done and dusted. This had been a tidy home performance, my choice for Man of the Match goes to their No 3 (Matthew Hanson), an effervescent stick of reliable dynamite that kept up a consistent threat, produced some scintillating spurts and instead of internally exploding let his feet do the talking and the work rate keep the opponents under the cosh - solid man, solid!
FINAL THOUGHT - This had been a tough tussle and one that The Lions faced head on and in the main, dictate. Yet more changes in clientele has this time proven to be beneficial with several very efficient players coming to the fore and making such a big difference. This and the general work-rate today was what earned the end prize and I was quite taken by the rapid movement and heads down focus of a team still in trouble but gradually rising to a position they truly deserve. Cheadle Heath Nomads were out of sync today and lacking several players, doubled over by two forced subs and kept on the back foot by an industrious home team who wouldn't give them 5 minutes rest. You can't judge a team by one performance and if you did on today's effort your opinion would be drastically skewed. The negative is that a few player's looked off the pace, the plus is that this can be used as a wake up call and hopefully lead to getting things immediately back on track. This is one crazy league, results are almost impossible to call - the fact is though there are some tough matches in the pipeline - both these units need to keep on working like ants on overtime - think on folks.
The early pattern lacked intricacy or sway, No 10 (Leon Grandison) for the visiting pack had a quick sniff of goal after the ball fell to his feet and the home keeper was on walkabout. The leg was swung, the end result was a low fizzer way off target. Stockport began to apply some steady play, a couple of corners brought tepid pressure but nothing too testing. After a forced Nomads substitute Town's No 2 (Connor Hancock) started an impressive 5 pass sequence that went from right to left followed by a cross that No 9 (Gavin Salmon) just couldn't touch home. It was a glimmer of promise from a scrappy start that saw the Lion's duly build upon. On the 18th minute a home free-kick was earned and was played short to an eager No 7 (Callum Dolan). The busy bod darted forth, round one player, round another and then between a couple more before he released and saw the ball get deflected home. It was a moment of sorcery kissed by the lips of Lady Fortune - it was 1 - 0 to the hosts and very well deserved it was. No sooner had the Nomads settled from this set back and looked to play on the deck than No 10 (Liam Mottram) pilfered and attempted to chip the keeper. It was an ambitious effort and easily collected by the guest mitter but all the same, it exhibited a certain belief in the resident ranks. Onwards the team on top came, No 8 (Robert Lofthouse) had an in-swinger shot cum cross float over and then a delicious cross found No 6 (Festus Arthur) with a chance to bury from a few feet out but his header was too firm and, if the truth be known, ruddy dreadful.
To the halfway mark of the first period and beyond, the flow remained the same way with a fine ball into the Nomadic danger zone nearly forcing the defending No 5 (Zac Tyson) to put into his own net. The ball from the angle that came was dealt with but the guest team were akin to the private parts of Elvis Presley after a romantic liaison with a Little Richard look-alike - (all shook up). Things turned from shit to shittier for the CHN chaps as their sub and general rabid Jack Russell (Terence Butler) hobbled off cursing his luck with a grimace on his mush. There were 6 minutes of the half left, despite having the upperhand The Town were still only 1 goal up - and when a free-kick was given to the Nomads one had visions of an equaliser coming like an unexpected finger up the relaxed jacksie and causing untold grievance. No 11 (Stephen Kirby) put himself forward as the wannabe executioner, the ball was hoofed, the goal was missed by a mile (well, about 72 inches but whats 5274 feet between friends). The half ended soon after with the Nomads having the better of the closing minutes, there was still a lot to do though.
A piddle and a cuppa for the break, this was an unexpected turn-up for the puzzling books, the couple I catch up with were in agreement and after a chinwag about some black and white movies the teams came back out. Would there be an Hitchcockian twist in the tail here, or would things advance like a snippet of Film Noir but without any spectacular starbursts? Stick with it folks!
The Town had the first free-kick, it was delivered like the lopsided gonad of King Kong - a lovely swinger. The keeper though read matters well and duly grabbed (I hope he washes his hands before having a butty) and put out a long ball. A foul came, a card issued, another gratis kick was given the same way but The Lions were watertight and earned a corner up the other end when their No 3 (Matthew Hanson) mimicked a grave-robbing Baron Frankenstein and exposed some great feet. The knock in was cleared, soon after Cheadle had a great chance when Kirby put in a great free-kick that missed many heads and feet and finally dropped to No 3 (Ebbie Rezayan) who was caught on the hop and steered off target. It seemed as though an equaliser might just come when The Town broke, Dolan at the apex of the attack burst from a crowded pack, used nimble feet to avoid a tackle and when the keeper advanced he remained cool enough to flick over the sprawled carcass and bag a sweet strike. From here the guests just couldn't offer enough to get back in it and Dolan was nearly in again after robbing the ball and darting forth like a man on a mission. The defending this time was done with authority, at 2 - 0 we stayed.
Substitutes came each way, No 12 (Richard Tindall) was immediately called into action and his flick header wasn't that far off the mark. A collision came next, Town's No 11 (Jack McConnell) was dreadfully unlucky to receive his second yellow and was sent to have an early bath. The free-kick that followed was a double whammy as Ashley Harrison prowled at the back post, gathered, blasted and reduced the deficit in robust style - the aforementioned turn of fate was still in the air. Now down the home stretch we travelled, a few more subs, The Heath determined, The Town desperate. Tindall produced a moment of magic with a pearling ball that found No 15 (Daniel Clarke) who won a corner. Before the ball entered the box Grandison and the home keeper (Andrei Stinca) received a yellow card each for getting too up close and personal with one another (the dirty devils). When the ball did come it did so with fiery pace and missed all potential takers. A melee followed, a penalty claim had, play was waved on. As Cheadle huffed and puffed to blow the home-sides house down Hanson knocked a delicious ball back against the tide only to see his colleague (Braulio Maieco) waved offside - now that could have been a real quality moment. At the death Kirby had space to bust net but blazed over and then a tackle and some unnecessary naughty afters saw Salmon get sent marching before the game was done and dusted. This had been a tidy home performance, my choice for Man of the Match goes to their No 3 (Matthew Hanson), an effervescent stick of reliable dynamite that kept up a consistent threat, produced some scintillating spurts and instead of internally exploding let his feet do the talking and the work rate keep the opponents under the cosh - solid man, solid!
FINAL THOUGHT - This had been a tough tussle and one that The Lions faced head on and in the main, dictate. Yet more changes in clientele has this time proven to be beneficial with several very efficient players coming to the fore and making such a big difference. This and the general work-rate today was what earned the end prize and I was quite taken by the rapid movement and heads down focus of a team still in trouble but gradually rising to a position they truly deserve. Cheadle Heath Nomads were out of sync today and lacking several players, doubled over by two forced subs and kept on the back foot by an industrious home team who wouldn't give them 5 minutes rest. You can't judge a team by one performance and if you did on today's effort your opinion would be drastically skewed. The negative is that a few player's looked off the pace, the plus is that this can be used as a wake up call and hopefully lead to getting things immediately back on track. This is one crazy league, results are almost impossible to call - the fact is though there are some tough matches in the pipeline - both these units need to keep on working like ants on overtime - think on folks.
Sunday, 25 November 2018
TABLE TOP TROUNCING
24th November 2018 - Congleton Town 3 v 0 City of Liverpool - A last minute change of plan was had today as I was drawn by the charms of the best Non-League chips to cross my greedy northern pig palette and the obvious intrigue of a top of the table clash. I didn't expect too many goals but what I did expect was a hard contested game, on a precipice til the end with the best team coming out on top. Myself and my grand lady set off in good time, breezed down quicker than a bare-arsed Chubby Checker on a bob-sleigh run and upon arrival pounced upon a tray of chips each and a cuppa. As we filled the bellies with warm victuals we chatted with a wonderful official who told us about his work at the ground, how much he had put in and how he felt it was a worthy cause - the backbone of all that transpires these people - what a joy to hear of their efforts. After a lengthy wait the ground started to fill up and the game gradually got going. I was already slightly chilled, there were many purple helmets in attendance, I was hoping one more would not stand out too much - mind you, in this weather I think I need not have been too concerned!
From the off The Bears were on it, No 7 (Bevan Burey) contributed highly to the first advance with a good run finalised with a foul. A played advantage would have been a better option but there ya go. The ball came in, brief mayhem ensued and a chance to shoot let slip. The hosts continued to dictate the tempo, never fully allowing their opponents to settle. Several zipping crosses, a few more free-kicks and some good passing all maintained the upperhand with No 8 (Dean Warburton) the next to come close with a pace riddled shot just whizzing shy of the upright. Another foray forth followed, the slick and speedy interplay was splendid, 5 - 6 passes and No 10 (Thomas Schofield) ended up with the ball at his feet. The head went down, the wriggling run was had, defender's were left bewildered and when only the goalkeeper was left to beat the man of the moment kept cool and sent in a quite splendid shot. The ball hit the onion bag, the crowd roared, it had been coming, the outcome was fully deserved. Within a spasm of a second the Purps went forth and looked to bounce back, they were defied by a wonderful overhead clearance and a swift counter. The ball went out wide, was flung into the box and Schofield was inches away from doubling his personal tally and his sides advantage. The travelling pack looked stunned, they tried to get a foot in the doorway of this game. A corner came with No 5 (Daniel Dalton) knocking over at the far post and then No 8 (Jack Hazelhurst) weaving in, supplying No 9 (Tom Peterson) who side-footed but had his shot deflected wide. Congo would not lie down though, a long goal kick found Warburton who controlled, turned and released only to be denied by the keeper's awaiting carcass - unlucky squire!
This was a fascinating encounter, the COL crew were on the rack and were finding that life at the top isn't one bed of roses. They duly dug deep and came on, a headed attempt by No 6 (Anthony Brown) was firmly held by the keeper and at the other end No 9 (Daniel Cope) put crust on ball but could only witness the same outcome. Burey was next to cause mayhem as The Bears pressed with untold fervour. The flank was run, a sharp cross forced the visiting No 1 (Ben Ascroft) to dive low and slap away, the incoming striker only just missed the netting! Straight back up the opposite end we went, Dalton had another header held by the mittman and then a long ball found the nut of No 10 (Jamie McDonald) who glanced on into the path of a galloping Peterson. The strike beckoned, the shank was swung, the home netman sprawled and saved with athletic prowess. Congo broke once more, a foul was forced and Cope slapped the dead ball over - a shame, it was worthy of more. Into the final minute we went, The Purple Pack tried to perspire their way back in, it was to no avail, as they dashed forth the ball was pilfered and a stunning pass from Warburton dismantled the visiting defense and allowed No 11 (Emini Adegbenro) to nip in, take a quick peek and double the lead in pure glossed up style. The half came to an end soon after - wow man, what a performance for the black and white platoon!
We stayed put for half-time and chatted to a home fan. A ruddy nice chap who, by chance, knew one of my punk comrades (Lee of Vomit). We were both in agreement that this had been some performance by the home tribe but also reckoned that the City of Liverpool would come out a different proposition for the second half - this is what happened folks!
A blazing start saw crosses come at both ends with no end result. From here both teams tried to stay patient but Congo had a sortie with Adegbenro trying one at the angle and then Cope turning and shooting to bring out a quite solid save. Cope finalised the next burst of pressure by sending in a sublime bender. The keeper kept his eye on the ball and plucked from the air with satisfying grace. There was no rest for the wretched though and a shot from Warburton was a rasping beauty and needed a firm tip over the horizontal to keep this game competitive. The corner produced sweet FA and as darkness set in one wondered how the hell would City of Liverpool get back into this one. No 7 (Joseph Holt) tried a slap shot, it wasn't even close, it kinda summed up his teams day! Next and the Purps penetrated, a free-kick created in-box disarray, a last gasp clearance came, the ball flew long, Cope was found just passed the halfway line and duly turned and galloped. The focus was pure, the pistons pumping quicker than a randy rhino on Viagra. There was still plenty to do when 'wallop' - the globe was belted forth and the net bulged like the trousers of Stan Ogden in a brewery! This was some goal, it was a cherry on a cream-filled cake, nay a tattoo of triumph on the muscular buttocks of the Ursine Army - kiss that!
Now matters settled as the Congo contained and suffocated and now and again had a few passing sequences the crowd duly cheered along to. Fair's fair though and the COL lads never gave up the ghost, No 12 (David Forbes) came close with a jab that just crept wide. From here the game went through the motions with no real threat coming to the Congleton clean sheet. Forbes had a shot deflected over for the visitors and McDonald went into the book. The Bears should have bagged a fourth when their substitute No 12 (Saul Henderson) worked the end line and sent in a low laser-like cross that No 15 (John Main) was unfortunate not to bury. Eventually that was that, the hosts went off to a resounding ovation and for me, their Man of the Match goes to No 5 (Thomas Morris) who I thought was absolutely solid at the back, played with a cool brow and reliability and gave his team a resolute central pivot on which to build and work from. In truth any player from the home pack could have got the nod, this was just one example that caught my eye. Me and the misses pootled off home and were quite pleased with the game we had witnessed - surely one of the best home performances witnessed this year!
FINAL THOUGHT - Another jaunt to the Giver Congo, with 3 goals splashed our way and sent home delighted that the league is still competitive and could still go any way. City of Liverpool were caught with their trousers down today and given a real test they just couldn't find the answers to. For me, as they were before the season began, they are still favourites to win this league due to the fact they have a good depth in quality and play with such consistency that they are always going to be grabbing points here and there. Today however it was all about Congleton, a team now sitting 5 points behind top spot and having put in a shift of quite mesmerizing proportions. The chips were down, the time to shine was now, it was a day that was perhaps, in many ways - shit or bust! The lads came good and did so in a dominating fashion. They will hopefully continue the trend to make this campaign one that will go to the wire. There are many good teams in this league though, some that will pick up better form as the season unfolds so both The Purps and The Bears had best be on their toes (or claws in the latter case) and make sure focus is set to level 'max'. I shall be hopefully viewing both teams again fairly soon, will the chasing pack be closing in or will matters transpire that this is a two-horse race - fill out your betting slips...now!
From the off The Bears were on it, No 7 (Bevan Burey) contributed highly to the first advance with a good run finalised with a foul. A played advantage would have been a better option but there ya go. The ball came in, brief mayhem ensued and a chance to shoot let slip. The hosts continued to dictate the tempo, never fully allowing their opponents to settle. Several zipping crosses, a few more free-kicks and some good passing all maintained the upperhand with No 8 (Dean Warburton) the next to come close with a pace riddled shot just whizzing shy of the upright. Another foray forth followed, the slick and speedy interplay was splendid, 5 - 6 passes and No 10 (Thomas Schofield) ended up with the ball at his feet. The head went down, the wriggling run was had, defender's were left bewildered and when only the goalkeeper was left to beat the man of the moment kept cool and sent in a quite splendid shot. The ball hit the onion bag, the crowd roared, it had been coming, the outcome was fully deserved. Within a spasm of a second the Purps went forth and looked to bounce back, they were defied by a wonderful overhead clearance and a swift counter. The ball went out wide, was flung into the box and Schofield was inches away from doubling his personal tally and his sides advantage. The travelling pack looked stunned, they tried to get a foot in the doorway of this game. A corner came with No 5 (Daniel Dalton) knocking over at the far post and then No 8 (Jack Hazelhurst) weaving in, supplying No 9 (Tom Peterson) who side-footed but had his shot deflected wide. Congo would not lie down though, a long goal kick found Warburton who controlled, turned and released only to be denied by the keeper's awaiting carcass - unlucky squire!
This was a fascinating encounter, the COL crew were on the rack and were finding that life at the top isn't one bed of roses. They duly dug deep and came on, a headed attempt by No 6 (Anthony Brown) was firmly held by the keeper and at the other end No 9 (Daniel Cope) put crust on ball but could only witness the same outcome. Burey was next to cause mayhem as The Bears pressed with untold fervour. The flank was run, a sharp cross forced the visiting No 1 (Ben Ascroft) to dive low and slap away, the incoming striker only just missed the netting! Straight back up the opposite end we went, Dalton had another header held by the mittman and then a long ball found the nut of No 10 (Jamie McDonald) who glanced on into the path of a galloping Peterson. The strike beckoned, the shank was swung, the home netman sprawled and saved with athletic prowess. Congo broke once more, a foul was forced and Cope slapped the dead ball over - a shame, it was worthy of more. Into the final minute we went, The Purple Pack tried to perspire their way back in, it was to no avail, as they dashed forth the ball was pilfered and a stunning pass from Warburton dismantled the visiting defense and allowed No 11 (Emini Adegbenro) to nip in, take a quick peek and double the lead in pure glossed up style. The half came to an end soon after - wow man, what a performance for the black and white platoon!
We stayed put for half-time and chatted to a home fan. A ruddy nice chap who, by chance, knew one of my punk comrades (Lee of Vomit). We were both in agreement that this had been some performance by the home tribe but also reckoned that the City of Liverpool would come out a different proposition for the second half - this is what happened folks!
A blazing start saw crosses come at both ends with no end result. From here both teams tried to stay patient but Congo had a sortie with Adegbenro trying one at the angle and then Cope turning and shooting to bring out a quite solid save. Cope finalised the next burst of pressure by sending in a sublime bender. The keeper kept his eye on the ball and plucked from the air with satisfying grace. There was no rest for the wretched though and a shot from Warburton was a rasping beauty and needed a firm tip over the horizontal to keep this game competitive. The corner produced sweet FA and as darkness set in one wondered how the hell would City of Liverpool get back into this one. No 7 (Joseph Holt) tried a slap shot, it wasn't even close, it kinda summed up his teams day! Next and the Purps penetrated, a free-kick created in-box disarray, a last gasp clearance came, the ball flew long, Cope was found just passed the halfway line and duly turned and galloped. The focus was pure, the pistons pumping quicker than a randy rhino on Viagra. There was still plenty to do when 'wallop' - the globe was belted forth and the net bulged like the trousers of Stan Ogden in a brewery! This was some goal, it was a cherry on a cream-filled cake, nay a tattoo of triumph on the muscular buttocks of the Ursine Army - kiss that!
Now matters settled as the Congo contained and suffocated and now and again had a few passing sequences the crowd duly cheered along to. Fair's fair though and the COL lads never gave up the ghost, No 12 (David Forbes) came close with a jab that just crept wide. From here the game went through the motions with no real threat coming to the Congleton clean sheet. Forbes had a shot deflected over for the visitors and McDonald went into the book. The Bears should have bagged a fourth when their substitute No 12 (Saul Henderson) worked the end line and sent in a low laser-like cross that No 15 (John Main) was unfortunate not to bury. Eventually that was that, the hosts went off to a resounding ovation and for me, their Man of the Match goes to No 5 (Thomas Morris) who I thought was absolutely solid at the back, played with a cool brow and reliability and gave his team a resolute central pivot on which to build and work from. In truth any player from the home pack could have got the nod, this was just one example that caught my eye. Me and the misses pootled off home and were quite pleased with the game we had witnessed - surely one of the best home performances witnessed this year!
FINAL THOUGHT - Another jaunt to the Giver Congo, with 3 goals splashed our way and sent home delighted that the league is still competitive and could still go any way. City of Liverpool were caught with their trousers down today and given a real test they just couldn't find the answers to. For me, as they were before the season began, they are still favourites to win this league due to the fact they have a good depth in quality and play with such consistency that they are always going to be grabbing points here and there. Today however it was all about Congleton, a team now sitting 5 points behind top spot and having put in a shift of quite mesmerizing proportions. The chips were down, the time to shine was now, it was a day that was perhaps, in many ways - shit or bust! The lads came good and did so in a dominating fashion. They will hopefully continue the trend to make this campaign one that will go to the wire. There are many good teams in this league though, some that will pick up better form as the season unfolds so both The Purps and The Bears had best be on their toes (or claws in the latter case) and make sure focus is set to level 'max'. I shall be hopefully viewing both teams again fairly soon, will the chasing pack be closing in or will matters transpire that this is a two-horse race - fill out your betting slips...now!
Saturday, 24 November 2018
OF SODS AND MONSTERS
23rd November 2018 - Chadderton FC 1 v 2 Prestwich Heys - Of late I have been catching up on the horror movie front, an art-form I have enjoyed since my informative years and one that has perpetually kept the noggin entertained and twisted. 'The Ghoul' from 1975 and 'The Frozen Dead' from 1966 have been the recent cinematic jaunts taken, the first sounding like a non-league strike as pronounced by a Geordie goon, the second quite pertinent and perhaps best describing the state of my testicles after sitting and watching tonight's match - cor blimey the chilliness of it all. As I dragged my carcass from the car into the cold night air, I ambled like a Frankensteinian creature to the hole in the wall and duly partook of the life-inducing brew. A few folk were already in attendance, wrapped up like wannabe Im-Ho-Teps, with the hope of resisting the invading frosted tendrils. STP Stu was in-situ and we duly went into the club bar, supped and swilled whilst partaking on some Red Velvet Cup Cakes. We were confectionery vampires tonight, sinking fangs into sugared flesh and extracting the sweet gifts found therein - welcome to my castle of toothsome content, I bid you....welcome. It was all very cosy but into the darkened night we had to wander, like footballing Werewolves summoned by the call of the whistle rather than the pull of the lunar orb. Positions had, we watched the two competing tribes take to the field and prepare to kick up sods, make haste and hopefully feed upon their opponents energy like a Succubus on heat.
The target of everyone's urgency was pounced upon, the sphere pounded here and there with No 11 (William Shawcross) of the home team dashing straight down the flank and putting in a cross. A touch back found the feet of No 9 (Harry Pratt) who sent in a dipping effort that was neatly tipped over. The corner was easily dealt with but Chaddy kept on coming like irrepressible Zombies of Reaction, no matter how hard The Heys tried to settle the next wave of the onslaught came with crosses, free-kicks and zipping passes all adding to the initial pressure. One ball in particular was played by the home No 2 (Kyle McGovern) it carved open the Hey's defensive flesh like a Freddie Kruger talon down the flesh of a dreaming virgin, was this the moment the blood of triumph would flow. A shot came, the keeper did enough but Shawcross popped up like a bad dream and looked to jab home at the near post - the defensive block was straight out of the uppermost drawer - fantastic. Eventually Prestwich worked and made a move, No 11 (Rio Wilson-Heyes) flew forth, a triumvirate of defending bods were outmaneuvered and a dig at the target was had. The mittman parried, the ball went astray and in stepped No 8 (Adam Farrell) to tap home the presented gift.
Chadderton refused to buckle from this blow against the flow and started to build once more. Heys gained possession and broke away with Wilson-Heyes doing his deviant stuff, laying one off and seeing an extra pass find the feet of No 4 (Liam Healey) who popped one just high of the horizontal. Another warning for Chadderton, take heed lads, 'They're coming to get you Barbara'. A free kick came from a balanced period, the hosts were the recipients and a good ball into a melee was had. From the mush of seeming confusion No 4 (Jordan Butterworth) put bonse on ball, the top of the bar was clattered - a real shame. Heys came back and began to take on the role of The Boston Strangler and apply a certain pressure that looked to suffocate their opponents hopes. Chadderton struggled and squirmed and put up decent resistance which made for a scrappy tussle. The elastic of the footballing underpants was twanged in the grappling with several loose balls exposed. Suddenly the guests captured the attention with a lightning release, Wilson-Heyes was the Van-Helsing of the moment and provided a much needed cross. The ball invaded the box, a nut rose, connected, rustled net - 0 - 2 and as easy as A, B, C. The executioner was No 7 (Bradley Sixsmith), his teammates looked overjoyed. From here until the halftime whistle Prestwich played within their comfort zone, Healey had a chance to close the coffin lid on the outcome but proved trigger shy and the opportunity disappeared into the slightly misted night. Another close shave soon after came via a cross that skinned a few scalps and then we were done - not a bad do at all methinks.
A wander for a brew, man was it needed, a cup cake and a chinwag, we had all made pre-match predictions and we all still had a chance of getting the result bang on the button - stick with it folks, this could be a first!
Part 2 began with the hosts fizzing like an acid bath victim (cue Vincent Price in Scream and Scream Again), The Heys Machine played the measured game and plotted and planned their next attack like a certain oriental master criminal (cue Boris Karloff in The Mask of Fumanchu). An assault duly came, it was with rapier-sincerity and ended with No 10 (Christopher Baguley) attempting to sidefoot home, the block on the line brought a blast of relief from the home teams lungs who dashed down the other end with No 7 (Samuel Riley) providing the finishing hoof. The keeper sprawled and made the save look easier than it was. The ball stayed in play, a cross failed to be connected with but eventually another shot came that just couldn't find the underside of the bar! The Heys came back, a quite stunning move saw 4 blindingly quick passes finish with a cross that was akin to a toothless Count Yorga - no bite at all. This was now a very competitive game, Chadderon came again, Shawcross weaved in, a lovely shot followed, the visiting No 1 (Michael Smith) provided an equally attractive save. The ball went out, No 15 (Jack Ward) had a punt, over! The visitors resisted, stood their ground like a resolute Golem, Ward had another dig for the hosts but again the gloved guardian did what was required and soon after he was in the right place at the right time when the opposing No 10 (Ryan Shenton) nutted close in.
Now the game heated up, Heys put three successive balls into the box, each one stretching the defense like the victim's limbs on a Poe created rack (Bela Lugosi from The Raven would be loving this). Chadderton still forced the issue, Shenton headed one over which looked a real chance to get one back, but then when the same team came gain, Shawcross advanced, indulged in a shimmy and a shake and put one at the feet of No 8 (James Dwyer) who would have believed the outcome, Dwyer took one look, launched a ball that curved through the embryonic autumnal brume and found the top corner of the net with artistic quality. A stunner, and, as in the words of a regenerated Jimmy Saville - 'now then, now then what have we here' (now that's horrific). Heys now looked skeletal (rattled), a low driller killer for Chaddy's Ward could have caused severe pain but it was too direct to cause the keeper any consternation. We now entered The Twilight Zone, the last 15, was there a twist in the tale (add theme tune here)? Shawcross for the hosts thought there might be, he came forth twisted and turned, cut in and once again found the keeper had read matters the right way - the shot though should have had more venom me thinks (check out Jacqueline Pearce in The Reptile - now that's venomous). The game rolled on, a few half chances came at both ends but when the final whistle sounded a just share of the points had been denied and Prestwich had seen this one out and bagged the booty. Man of the Match will go to the Prestwich Heys No 1 (Michael Smith) for a reliable and quite convincing stint between the uprights. He made things look easier than they were, read the game well at all times and certainly made sure the 3 points went down the road - a decent goalkeeping effort if you ask me.
FINAL THOUGHT - A rare Friday night venture out, well worth it and although we went home feeling like Abominable Snowmen, and creaked and groaned like arthritic creatures of the night, this one had been enjoyed. Chadderton put much into their play, they have several player's who really do excel and add flamboyance whenever needed, have a good injection of pace and are keen to advance. The overall team though always frustrates and many a time just doesn't deliver what it promises. I think this is set to change and a good run of form is just around the corner. They are currently 17th, I expect them, come season end, to be at least 6 places better off than this - keep working chaps. Prestwich Heys for me are an annual top 6 performing side and have a nucleus of players that will always put them in good stead. They are gradually shambling up the table like an emerging Behemoth and I think some real waves will be made in the coming months. They play with patience, have a noticeable resilience and seem to ride a hazardous storm mighty well and come out the other end with a surprise or two for attackers with impetus. They, along with their opponents, will no doubt be viewed several more times over the course of the coming campaign, as per, keep yer eye on this B-Movie football and enjoy every nuance, blemish and the naturalistic beauty!
The target of everyone's urgency was pounced upon, the sphere pounded here and there with No 11 (William Shawcross) of the home team dashing straight down the flank and putting in a cross. A touch back found the feet of No 9 (Harry Pratt) who sent in a dipping effort that was neatly tipped over. The corner was easily dealt with but Chaddy kept on coming like irrepressible Zombies of Reaction, no matter how hard The Heys tried to settle the next wave of the onslaught came with crosses, free-kicks and zipping passes all adding to the initial pressure. One ball in particular was played by the home No 2 (Kyle McGovern) it carved open the Hey's defensive flesh like a Freddie Kruger talon down the flesh of a dreaming virgin, was this the moment the blood of triumph would flow. A shot came, the keeper did enough but Shawcross popped up like a bad dream and looked to jab home at the near post - the defensive block was straight out of the uppermost drawer - fantastic. Eventually Prestwich worked and made a move, No 11 (Rio Wilson-Heyes) flew forth, a triumvirate of defending bods were outmaneuvered and a dig at the target was had. The mittman parried, the ball went astray and in stepped No 8 (Adam Farrell) to tap home the presented gift.
Chadderton refused to buckle from this blow against the flow and started to build once more. Heys gained possession and broke away with Wilson-Heyes doing his deviant stuff, laying one off and seeing an extra pass find the feet of No 4 (Liam Healey) who popped one just high of the horizontal. Another warning for Chadderton, take heed lads, 'They're coming to get you Barbara'. A free kick came from a balanced period, the hosts were the recipients and a good ball into a melee was had. From the mush of seeming confusion No 4 (Jordan Butterworth) put bonse on ball, the top of the bar was clattered - a real shame. Heys came back and began to take on the role of The Boston Strangler and apply a certain pressure that looked to suffocate their opponents hopes. Chadderton struggled and squirmed and put up decent resistance which made for a scrappy tussle. The elastic of the footballing underpants was twanged in the grappling with several loose balls exposed. Suddenly the guests captured the attention with a lightning release, Wilson-Heyes was the Van-Helsing of the moment and provided a much needed cross. The ball invaded the box, a nut rose, connected, rustled net - 0 - 2 and as easy as A, B, C. The executioner was No 7 (Bradley Sixsmith), his teammates looked overjoyed. From here until the halftime whistle Prestwich played within their comfort zone, Healey had a chance to close the coffin lid on the outcome but proved trigger shy and the opportunity disappeared into the slightly misted night. Another close shave soon after came via a cross that skinned a few scalps and then we were done - not a bad do at all methinks.
A wander for a brew, man was it needed, a cup cake and a chinwag, we had all made pre-match predictions and we all still had a chance of getting the result bang on the button - stick with it folks, this could be a first!
Part 2 began with the hosts fizzing like an acid bath victim (cue Vincent Price in Scream and Scream Again), The Heys Machine played the measured game and plotted and planned their next attack like a certain oriental master criminal (cue Boris Karloff in The Mask of Fumanchu). An assault duly came, it was with rapier-sincerity and ended with No 10 (Christopher Baguley) attempting to sidefoot home, the block on the line brought a blast of relief from the home teams lungs who dashed down the other end with No 7 (Samuel Riley) providing the finishing hoof. The keeper sprawled and made the save look easier than it was. The ball stayed in play, a cross failed to be connected with but eventually another shot came that just couldn't find the underside of the bar! The Heys came back, a quite stunning move saw 4 blindingly quick passes finish with a cross that was akin to a toothless Count Yorga - no bite at all. This was now a very competitive game, Chadderon came again, Shawcross weaved in, a lovely shot followed, the visiting No 1 (Michael Smith) provided an equally attractive save. The ball went out, No 15 (Jack Ward) had a punt, over! The visitors resisted, stood their ground like a resolute Golem, Ward had another dig for the hosts but again the gloved guardian did what was required and soon after he was in the right place at the right time when the opposing No 10 (Ryan Shenton) nutted close in.
Now the game heated up, Heys put three successive balls into the box, each one stretching the defense like the victim's limbs on a Poe created rack (Bela Lugosi from The Raven would be loving this). Chadderton still forced the issue, Shenton headed one over which looked a real chance to get one back, but then when the same team came gain, Shawcross advanced, indulged in a shimmy and a shake and put one at the feet of No 8 (James Dwyer) who would have believed the outcome, Dwyer took one look, launched a ball that curved through the embryonic autumnal brume and found the top corner of the net with artistic quality. A stunner, and, as in the words of a regenerated Jimmy Saville - 'now then, now then what have we here' (now that's horrific). Heys now looked skeletal (rattled), a low driller killer for Chaddy's Ward could have caused severe pain but it was too direct to cause the keeper any consternation. We now entered The Twilight Zone, the last 15, was there a twist in the tale (add theme tune here)? Shawcross for the hosts thought there might be, he came forth twisted and turned, cut in and once again found the keeper had read matters the right way - the shot though should have had more venom me thinks (check out Jacqueline Pearce in The Reptile - now that's venomous). The game rolled on, a few half chances came at both ends but when the final whistle sounded a just share of the points had been denied and Prestwich had seen this one out and bagged the booty. Man of the Match will go to the Prestwich Heys No 1 (Michael Smith) for a reliable and quite convincing stint between the uprights. He made things look easier than they were, read the game well at all times and certainly made sure the 3 points went down the road - a decent goalkeeping effort if you ask me.
FINAL THOUGHT - A rare Friday night venture out, well worth it and although we went home feeling like Abominable Snowmen, and creaked and groaned like arthritic creatures of the night, this one had been enjoyed. Chadderton put much into their play, they have several player's who really do excel and add flamboyance whenever needed, have a good injection of pace and are keen to advance. The overall team though always frustrates and many a time just doesn't deliver what it promises. I think this is set to change and a good run of form is just around the corner. They are currently 17th, I expect them, come season end, to be at least 6 places better off than this - keep working chaps. Prestwich Heys for me are an annual top 6 performing side and have a nucleus of players that will always put them in good stead. They are gradually shambling up the table like an emerging Behemoth and I think some real waves will be made in the coming months. They play with patience, have a noticeable resilience and seem to ride a hazardous storm mighty well and come out the other end with a surprise or two for attackers with impetus. They, along with their opponents, will no doubt be viewed several more times over the course of the coming campaign, as per, keep yer eye on this B-Movie football and enjoy every nuance, blemish and the naturalistic beauty!
Wednesday, 21 November 2018
AND FROM THE MUCK...
20th November 2018 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 3 v 0 Cammell Laird 1907 - The thermals are dropping, the inner guts of the season are being exposed and as teams do battle on slutch-splattered grounds it is now, and only now, that those with hope will expose their true colours and those in the mire will be bogged down and have to fight for their lives from here on in. Steam will rise, verbals of frustration will fracture frosted air and eyes will spy possible end glory whilst others will ponder the scarred and cruel pitches that hold so many tortuous twists and turns. This is all part of the Non-League drama, the on-going saga that holds many of us transfixed and permanently on the edge of our mix and match, haemorrhoid inducing seats. Thankfully my chuff is free from the anguish of Nobby Stiles and I can park my arse, watch the game and have no fear of a bleeding ring - unless of course I fall victim to Nasty Nob Norman who is said to lurk in the nearby shrubbery and pounce on any distracted supporter and give them a non-soccerised seeing to - ooh heck, thank goodness for my barbed wire underpants! Arriving in good time, I met up with STP Stu, exchanged words of wisdom and wankery with many faces and prepared for the latest globe-hoofing installment. The liquid of tan was purchased and downed, a choccy bar a ruddy necessity and as I took my seat, adjusting the aforementioned undies so has to avoid a circumcision, this is what my salivating appetite was served up.
The start was slightly fractured with a couple of gratis digs for the hosts akin to the barren titties of romantic scribbler Barbara Cartland - producing nowt. The Laird looked to pounce back with sharp, flashing counters, No 7 (Joshua Donnelly) swung his shank trying to catch the wandering mitter off his line but the ball, quite disappointingly, floated shy of the target. Suddenly, from the humping desire, a child of hope was spilled forth as a sweeping relaxation of the attacking muscles allowed a run down the flank to arise and a zipping cross to find the ever-available feet of No 9 (Richard Tindall). The man with an eye for goal was a mere couple of feet out, the zone of glory awaited a penetration (ooh heck I am going all pornographic again) but the feet were over-zealous, the sights not set and the ball was boomed into the misted sable air. It was, to put it mildly, like the arse of Oliver Hardy after a night on the curry - a ruddy stinker! A few early niggles were noted at this stage, a couple of rough and ready tackles flew in, the referee cooled matters with the exposure of his yellow card. The game continued at a hectic pace, The Laird had a period where they looked to display the greatest potency but in the main this was end to end stuff awaiting someone to provide a real sting in the tail. The guests did come close when a free-kick found an advanced bod but the player was surprised by the pace of the cross and duly nutted over - the stalemate continued.
This was a getting a tough one to call with a long ball by the traveller's catching the Nomads on the hop and the No 2 (Ben Dutton-Kelly) allowed to nip in on the blind side. The mittman was in two-minds, a shot eventually came and somehow the home No 1 (Aaron Tyrer) recovered - what a lucky blighter. As the game was still up for grabs I thought Cheadle were guilty of playing one too many touches and Cammell Laird culpable of playing with too much frenzy. Something had to give, and give it did, in the most unlikeliest of circumstances. A throw to the guests, a pilfering was had, a pass followed and Tindall chased. The cause was looking to be lost but the Nomadic frontman refused to give up and the keeper was put under untold pressure and was duly robbed and left to watch the globe be tickled home. The breakthrough had been had, an example of how to 'never say die' was emitted by a goal hungry 'erbert, these often overlooked examples are what can make or break a side - nice work for sure. A few yellows were shown, No 10 (Peter Moore) for the Lairds sent in a dipper that defied gravity and Dutton-Kelly was putting in a cracking stint but all the while Cheadle remained controlled, full of gusto and playing with a fluency to be applauded. The half ended, time for a brew methinks.
A wander for the cha', lo and behold Pete from Abbey Hey was met up with and joined us for the second half. It was good to catch up with this Non-League gent and despite serving a 10 month stint in prison for stalking the illegitimate son of Marjorie Proops (something to do with green shield stamps I think) it was good to see him in fine fettle. And then, the teams re-appeared...
From the opening whistle of this follow-up period Cammell Laird 1907 were working hard and forcing the hosts on the back peg. A free-kick was earned from much hassle, Moore put in a low driller - alas it was not a killer but soon after No 11 (Ryan Burke) bust a gut, was involved in a 2 pass link up and launched one to the top corner - the goal was lucky to escape unblemished. Cheadle responded, a pass out wide came back in and No 8 (Philip Yuillie) put a shot on target that was comfortably dealt with by the keeper. A corner followed due to some great work by No 2 (Jack Warren), the ball in was decent enough but a clobbered keeper marred matters somewhat. Another corner was free of contact and Yuille should have buried when he was in free space and put nut on ball - the contact however was too meaty. As the game progressed the Nomads put together some quite magical passing sequences one of which was finished with a booming shot off target that could easily have been a contender for goal of the season - unlucky chaps. It was all Cheadle now, No 11 (Stephen Kirby) let fly and the mitter could only fumble around the upright. The corner that followed was decent enough, but Cammell Laird survived and tried to quell the impetus.
A break was had for a diabetic player who needed a fix (and why not, only decent methinks) but once proceedings carried on the hosts breezed forth with another slick passing move that culminated in a cross and a cultured and delicate touch by No 10 (Leon Grandison) that brought up the second strike of the night and put the home lads well and truly in control. From here the travellers worked with ardour, a cross, a shot, confusion and a header all came in one feisty flurry but Cheadle survived, broke with zest that saw Grandison drive forth with the keeper to beat. The gap between the striker and the man between the sticks decreased, the option to pass was taken, Tindall was there to bury, instead he hit the keepers legs and had missed his second sitter of the night much to the verbal disgruntlement of a nearby onlooker who compared it to a Stevie Wonder moment. A trifle harsh one thinks, surely even Mr Wonder could have buried that one (wink, wink). These misdemeanors however duly happen and are best soon forgotten and cast away from slanderous environs I sometimes encounter. Onwards the hosts came, a sweet cross needed the slightest nudge home but the toes of Grandison were millimetres away and the visitors still had hope. A sending off for Lairds finished the game as a contest and as I nipped for a quick piddle, retook my seat, I was in time to see Tindall rubber-stamped his efforts with a steady goal that certainly put this game out of reach - a moment that was good to see and will hopefully stop a few death threats coming his way after the aforementioned bloopers. During the final seconds Grandison laid one off to Tindall who tried to grab his hat-trick with a sublime chip - the ball took to the air, began to fall and pinged off the upperside of the bar - and then we were done. Man of the Match could go to many a player from both sides but No 5 (Joe Hare) for Cheadle Heath Nomads was a subtle and stubborn giant at the back and stuck to his task with quiet dedication and rarely let a ball pass during a performance that indicated some real quality. A crucial cog in an efficient wheel that will help the Heath to roll on to bigger and better things.
FINAL THOUGHT - So Cheadle Heath Nomads move onwards and have put together a couple of back to back wins that sees them settle down in 5th position with the front-runner very much in their sights. A couple more wins to keep the sequence going and the festive period could be a very interesting time indeed. Santa may come and empty his sack in any manner of ways but this time, rather that ejaculating forth some soggy satsuma's of misery he could be spraying tangerines of potential triumph for those hungry enough, to suck on (I just hope in all this fruit-based thrusting he doesn't forget my train-set and big-balled Action Man). Cammell Laird 1907 are no mugs and one or two players tonight were bang on the mark. They play with a swift precision, steam away and have a good encouraging factor in their ranks that never let up until the final whistle came. I like that attitude, it will keep the team honest and competitive, tonight they met a good unit on form and sometimes there ain't nowt you can do. If they are writing their Christmas List early there is very little they could ask for - a touch of fortune perhaps, a bottle of Valium just to keep things a little less frenzied and perhaps a signed nude poster of Jimmy Tarbuck that they could hang in their changing rooms and make sure they come out fired up (it takes all sorts tha' knows). It has been a while since we have visited The Kirklands Ground, I must alter the diary and when we do get down there I expect them to be in a far loftier position! To add, during the creation of this report no formal complaints were received from the Barabara Cartland Estate and Mr Richard Tindall is booked in to Spec Savers next Thursday at 1pm, I think a pair of pink framed pebble-glasses will suit him down to the ground!
The start was slightly fractured with a couple of gratis digs for the hosts akin to the barren titties of romantic scribbler Barbara Cartland - producing nowt. The Laird looked to pounce back with sharp, flashing counters, No 7 (Joshua Donnelly) swung his shank trying to catch the wandering mitter off his line but the ball, quite disappointingly, floated shy of the target. Suddenly, from the humping desire, a child of hope was spilled forth as a sweeping relaxation of the attacking muscles allowed a run down the flank to arise and a zipping cross to find the ever-available feet of No 9 (Richard Tindall). The man with an eye for goal was a mere couple of feet out, the zone of glory awaited a penetration (ooh heck I am going all pornographic again) but the feet were over-zealous, the sights not set and the ball was boomed into the misted sable air. It was, to put it mildly, like the arse of Oliver Hardy after a night on the curry - a ruddy stinker! A few early niggles were noted at this stage, a couple of rough and ready tackles flew in, the referee cooled matters with the exposure of his yellow card. The game continued at a hectic pace, The Laird had a period where they looked to display the greatest potency but in the main this was end to end stuff awaiting someone to provide a real sting in the tail. The guests did come close when a free-kick found an advanced bod but the player was surprised by the pace of the cross and duly nutted over - the stalemate continued.
This was a getting a tough one to call with a long ball by the traveller's catching the Nomads on the hop and the No 2 (Ben Dutton-Kelly) allowed to nip in on the blind side. The mittman was in two-minds, a shot eventually came and somehow the home No 1 (Aaron Tyrer) recovered - what a lucky blighter. As the game was still up for grabs I thought Cheadle were guilty of playing one too many touches and Cammell Laird culpable of playing with too much frenzy. Something had to give, and give it did, in the most unlikeliest of circumstances. A throw to the guests, a pilfering was had, a pass followed and Tindall chased. The cause was looking to be lost but the Nomadic frontman refused to give up and the keeper was put under untold pressure and was duly robbed and left to watch the globe be tickled home. The breakthrough had been had, an example of how to 'never say die' was emitted by a goal hungry 'erbert, these often overlooked examples are what can make or break a side - nice work for sure. A few yellows were shown, No 10 (Peter Moore) for the Lairds sent in a dipper that defied gravity and Dutton-Kelly was putting in a cracking stint but all the while Cheadle remained controlled, full of gusto and playing with a fluency to be applauded. The half ended, time for a brew methinks.
A wander for the cha', lo and behold Pete from Abbey Hey was met up with and joined us for the second half. It was good to catch up with this Non-League gent and despite serving a 10 month stint in prison for stalking the illegitimate son of Marjorie Proops (something to do with green shield stamps I think) it was good to see him in fine fettle. And then, the teams re-appeared...
From the opening whistle of this follow-up period Cammell Laird 1907 were working hard and forcing the hosts on the back peg. A free-kick was earned from much hassle, Moore put in a low driller - alas it was not a killer but soon after No 11 (Ryan Burke) bust a gut, was involved in a 2 pass link up and launched one to the top corner - the goal was lucky to escape unblemished. Cheadle responded, a pass out wide came back in and No 8 (Philip Yuillie) put a shot on target that was comfortably dealt with by the keeper. A corner followed due to some great work by No 2 (Jack Warren), the ball in was decent enough but a clobbered keeper marred matters somewhat. Another corner was free of contact and Yuille should have buried when he was in free space and put nut on ball - the contact however was too meaty. As the game progressed the Nomads put together some quite magical passing sequences one of which was finished with a booming shot off target that could easily have been a contender for goal of the season - unlucky chaps. It was all Cheadle now, No 11 (Stephen Kirby) let fly and the mitter could only fumble around the upright. The corner that followed was decent enough, but Cammell Laird survived and tried to quell the impetus.
A break was had for a diabetic player who needed a fix (and why not, only decent methinks) but once proceedings carried on the hosts breezed forth with another slick passing move that culminated in a cross and a cultured and delicate touch by No 10 (Leon Grandison) that brought up the second strike of the night and put the home lads well and truly in control. From here the travellers worked with ardour, a cross, a shot, confusion and a header all came in one feisty flurry but Cheadle survived, broke with zest that saw Grandison drive forth with the keeper to beat. The gap between the striker and the man between the sticks decreased, the option to pass was taken, Tindall was there to bury, instead he hit the keepers legs and had missed his second sitter of the night much to the verbal disgruntlement of a nearby onlooker who compared it to a Stevie Wonder moment. A trifle harsh one thinks, surely even Mr Wonder could have buried that one (wink, wink). These misdemeanors however duly happen and are best soon forgotten and cast away from slanderous environs I sometimes encounter. Onwards the hosts came, a sweet cross needed the slightest nudge home but the toes of Grandison were millimetres away and the visitors still had hope. A sending off for Lairds finished the game as a contest and as I nipped for a quick piddle, retook my seat, I was in time to see Tindall rubber-stamped his efforts with a steady goal that certainly put this game out of reach - a moment that was good to see and will hopefully stop a few death threats coming his way after the aforementioned bloopers. During the final seconds Grandison laid one off to Tindall who tried to grab his hat-trick with a sublime chip - the ball took to the air, began to fall and pinged off the upperside of the bar - and then we were done. Man of the Match could go to many a player from both sides but No 5 (Joe Hare) for Cheadle Heath Nomads was a subtle and stubborn giant at the back and stuck to his task with quiet dedication and rarely let a ball pass during a performance that indicated some real quality. A crucial cog in an efficient wheel that will help the Heath to roll on to bigger and better things.
FINAL THOUGHT - So Cheadle Heath Nomads move onwards and have put together a couple of back to back wins that sees them settle down in 5th position with the front-runner very much in their sights. A couple more wins to keep the sequence going and the festive period could be a very interesting time indeed. Santa may come and empty his sack in any manner of ways but this time, rather that ejaculating forth some soggy satsuma's of misery he could be spraying tangerines of potential triumph for those hungry enough, to suck on (I just hope in all this fruit-based thrusting he doesn't forget my train-set and big-balled Action Man). Cammell Laird 1907 are no mugs and one or two players tonight were bang on the mark. They play with a swift precision, steam away and have a good encouraging factor in their ranks that never let up until the final whistle came. I like that attitude, it will keep the team honest and competitive, tonight they met a good unit on form and sometimes there ain't nowt you can do. If they are writing their Christmas List early there is very little they could ask for - a touch of fortune perhaps, a bottle of Valium just to keep things a little less frenzied and perhaps a signed nude poster of Jimmy Tarbuck that they could hang in their changing rooms and make sure they come out fired up (it takes all sorts tha' knows). It has been a while since we have visited The Kirklands Ground, I must alter the diary and when we do get down there I expect them to be in a far loftier position! To add, during the creation of this report no formal complaints were received from the Barabara Cartland Estate and Mr Richard Tindall is booked in to Spec Savers next Thursday at 1pm, I think a pair of pink framed pebble-glasses will suit him down to the ground!
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