10th March 2019 - Rylands FC 3 v 5 Cheadle Heath Nomads - I have recently watched the famed 1978 mystery
thriller 'The Eyes of Laura Mars' starring Faye Dunnaway as well as starting to
work my way through a fine box set of Joe 90 episodes. I pondered the outcome
of a Ms Mars/Joe 90 copulation and, despite a prison sentence, reckoned the
resultant offspring would be a speccy bastard with the ability to predict the
future. Well, I wear glasses, have been termed a bastard (especially in
the oh so delicate punk scene) and reckon I can predict the outcome of this match.
Having got up early, donned my Gerry Anderson see-through underpants and
dropped a couple of Thunderturds down the U-bend myself and my good (and
patient) lady headed out to get to the ground at 9.30am prompt (and on a
Sunday morning too - what will the vicar say). Tea and a snack was
purchased, STP Stu turned up and I boldly proclaimed that this match would be a
3 - 3 score draw. A vision had been had, a Fireball XL5 had shot
up my jacksie, passed through my carcass and hit my cranial matter with
enlightening intensity - it was a 'eureka' moment, even the great thinking of
Brains or the logical skills of Father Stanley Unwin paled into insignificance
as the future was seen and the result received. Read on folks, see the
truth transpire or perhaps, see Fungalpunk look a right twat - this is the
outcome.
Viewing points chosen and the weather was more than a trifle wank. The
embryonic moments of the wind-riddled affair were played with a hesitancy and a
care to adjust to the elements. From this seemingly excitement-free
exchange a Cheadle rear bod played the ball back to his mittman who, instead of
rattling clear, chose to be cute and use his bonse. The touch went all
wrong, the ball picked up by an opposing player, tidily passed for No 11
(Steven Boothman) to jab home. What a shocker, certainly not the start
the guests had ordered. The response to this unexpected blip brought
about a showcase of the visiting teams guts and nuts. They came forth,
throw in went to No 10 (James Green) who dashed in at the angle. let fly and
watched the ball flash across the goalmouth and just miss the far upright.
A floated free-kick came the same way not long after, it was nutted wide but
pressure was building. The Nomads were
busting their conkers trying to get back into this one. The ball entered
the middle of the park, No 9 (Ashley Harrison) shook off two markers and
progressed. The player in control unselfishly passed, Green was the
recipient, eyed his spot and bang, the equaliser was had. No longer had
breath been caught and Cheadle won a free-kick. No 11 (Stephen Kirby)
floated one, the keeper was alert and gathered, this though was a quality fight
back.
The rain abated, the wind however grew stronger and from a distant climactic
rectum much blusteriness was being expelled no doubt after an insane Heavenly
feast of spiteful beans and perishing prunes. These howling insults and
the claggy pitch brought about a spell of hard-fought football with little in
the way of chances arising. Rylands strove to regain their lead, a ball
from Cheadle found Kirby who sweetly collected, knocked in a pearling pass that
saw Green gather, gallop and get grounded by the advancing keeper. A
penalty was awarded Green buried - what a turn around. Rylands still
tried to play football, they came on, No 8 (Stephen Wolhuter) played a quality
ball, No 3 (Thomas Parry) put in a vexing cross that needed defending behind.
The corner came, the wind was a ruination, the chance went begging. A few
spicy tackles ensued followed by an injury delay. The game restarted, the
guests grabbed possession, No 7 (Kieran Herbert) seemed to be in the realm of
nowhere, he tried a sneaky shot. The ball crawled over the mud-blemished
turf, somehow the bottom corner of the net was found - by crikey lad, what the
Hell is going on here then?
The half now advanced with the guests looking to cement their lead, the hosts
scurrying and looking to gain a glimmer of hope before the break. Ryalnds
duly trespassed, they were given time to move the ball around the box until
Boothman had had enough, let fly a low whistling shot and squeaked the ball
home between the vertical and the sprawling keepers' mitt. It was the
last major action of the half, it set matters up nicely for the second period
and what a decisive goal this could be.
For half time we stayed put, the thought of a wander in the chill was not
persuasive - so a Flapjack, a natter and then the players re-emerged.
Rylands now had the wind behind them, little did they know that before long
they would have it up em' too. Boothman had the first pop, straight at
the keeper it went and then a stunning ball over the top nearly led to a great
leveller but the offside flag and a poor finish crushed the rising ambition.
The hosts sprung once more, a fluent move saw No 9 (Stuart Wellstead) put in a
glancing header that had no determined direction, the keeper gathered with
ease. A free-kick followed that just missed the top corner and then No 10
(Jamie White) cut in and released but once more just couldn't find the home
zone. From this onslaught the visitors broke with Harrison at the helm and
bearing down on a goal kick. The ball richoted, went loose and was belted
clear before a short stretch of scrappy play came that saw the ball spend more
time off the pitch than on it. Eventually things got moving and a
free-kick came for Cheadle. The delivery into the box was choice, Harrison rose and nutted
home his teams forth and put paid to my pre-match prediction. I ripped
off my Gerry Anderson underpants and threw them into the bracing air - when I
get home I am cancelling my Joe 90 tattoo as well.
From here I expected a Rylands renaissance, not so - Cheadle weren't done yet.
The battled away, the ball was up for grabs, Kirby had a first time dig, a
block came, No 8 (Andrew Simpson) sensed glory and at the second attempt nudged
home - was reality distorted? The skies turned black, I saw my discarded
duds fly by on the breeze and get stuck on a nearby bald man's head - yes - my
sense of what is real was truly malfunctioning. Rylands now fought like dogs
over the last chip butty, the ball was pumped into the perilous region, back
out it went only for No 16 (Christopher Francis) to crack back a beauty.
It looked all the world to be a goal, alas the underside of the bar was
hammered and the globe pinged out. The hosts were undeterred, a great
cheeky pass was dinked through, No 17 (Liam Moran) put in a laser-like cross -
it was unfortunate not to see any takers present. Boothroyd sent in a
free-kick next, again it was off-line but within seconds a lightning surge saw
White receive, cut in and squeeze the ball into the mesh. 3 goals to 5
folks it now was, what next? Well, a shot each end failed to cause a
bulge (now, now) and Cheadle Heath Nomads saw the game out and thoroughly
deserved their 3 point haul. It had been a street-fighting performance
done the right way - with the feet doing the talking and delivering the knock-out
blows. Man of the Match goes to the Nomadic No 9 (Ashley Harrison)
for a darn determined effort that never relented, his willingness to chase many
a lost cause and for grabbing a well-deserved goal along the way. An
example of spirit and substance winning the day. After the match a
hailstorm came, we took shelter with a brew and then made a dash for the car
and straight to a Fungalised gig - this had been a grand start to another busy
day!
FINAL THOUGHT - Wow, in conditions rated 'terrible' this game had thrills,
spills, unpredictability and plenty of fine effort. Rylands are no mugs,
today they were just lacking a bit of luck and perhaps a little bit of urgency
in a game that was all about who wanted it most. I have enjoyed my trips
to this place this season, have witnessed many a fine footballer, I am in no
doubt that this is a blip and we are looking at the league champions. I
hope so, after leading the way for so long it would be poxy to see it thrown away. They will have to buckle down though but
this kick up the arse as come just at the right time methinks and the next team
to meet the boys in blue had better watch out. Cheadle Heath Nomads are
my local team, they are 5 streets away and have provided me with some good
entertainment this year. They are a unit who get on, work for one another
and who have had their ups and downs in this inaugural North West Counties
season. Today they proved that they can compete, they have many fine
qualities and, with a good run of consistency can be major players in the mix
this time next year. These leagues are very competitive as the lads have
found out but they have a vibe, a belief when the chips are down and many
options to call upon. If you can beat the top team in the league, on a
Sunday morning in conditions such as this then the footballing world is
there to be kicked for six - tis easier said than done but, as ever, who knows!
9th March 2019 - Avro FC 7 v 0 Atherton Laburnum Rovers - We were going to do the groundhop today, we ran out of time. We were going to Steeton - the game was called off. We decided Liversedge would be worth a pootle, the game was also cancelled. After a morn of cycling and beetle hunting I returned home, had a chat with the missus and a decision was made - off to Avro it was. The weather was the main dictator, it was blowing a hoolie, liable to blast off a goolie, so we decided to play it careful and pick a ground not too far away and where I was guaranteed to go home with the jewels intact. The rain was hit and miss too - I may need a hat - ooh more decisions - do I go for my Crossroad's Benny woollen one, my Fred Dibnah homo-erotic flat cap charmer or perhaps my Ecky Thump version complete with a black pudding cosh in case of any trouble. I graced the globe with all 3 options, stuck to going 'eggshell au naturale' and hoped the clouds would play fair. As a back-up my black woollen hat with a 'Visual Offence' patch was kept in the bag - it seemed most apt as I confess to being no looker - unlike the aforementioned Dibnah - ooh what a sex-God and hey, what a lovely steeple! We arrived at our destination and made sure we warmed our cockles before hitting our viewing spot. The teams soon took to the pitch, we had both predicted 7 goals, (6 - 1 to the hosts in fact), we hoped for a closer contest, this is what actually happened.
The hosts, as expected, came out hungry and looking to snatch a quick strike. A few corners and shots from No 9 (Joe Beven) and No 11 (Ryan Hanson) helped to secure a stranglehold and send out the early warning signs. From an Avro corner Beven sent in a steamer that was blocked and led to a ALR break. No 9 (Nathan Hatton) was played in, the first touch was clumsy, the chance, as a prospect, fizzled. Avro bounced back from this minor scare, No 2 (Sam Rathbone) reached the end line, sent in a well-drilled cross that was met by the arriving Hanson - the end result was just off target. Avro were like an hormonal hedgehog, exuding desire and a spiky spirit. The opposition survived a few half chances and won a free-kick against the flow. No 4 (Dominic Barnes) took it, the outcome was a shot lacking in 'oomph' and direction - the keeper collected without fuss. As the guests looked to build from this moment of positivity they were caught with their conkers cold with Hanson for Avro setting forth on an arse-burning run that saw 3 players left standing and matters taken into the final 'red alert' zone. A tackle came, it was careless and mistimed, a yellow was issued and the penalty spot pointed to - a shame because Hanson was denied scoring a real beauty. No 8 (Louis Potts) took the spot kick, placement and pace were plentiful - the first goal was grabbed.
From here Atherton had some decent possession but just couldn't retain the globe and lacked options. Hanson for the hosts had the next shot, the visiting No 1 (Daniel Havern) produced a solid save and made sure this one stayed close. Avro were incessant though, another cross came and No 7 Philip Armstrong) popped up at the back post and should have done better - ball wide, goal kick folks. The clock ticked on, the visiting keeper was called on to make another firm save and then after an Atherton shot that lacked conviction Avro broke, won a corner and after another in-box collision, earned their second penalty of the day. Potts buried without bother - the game was slipping away from the travelling team who, after another scare, made 2 substitutions, in the hope of keeping this one within touching distance. Avro though were in the groove, a blistering attack came, a perfect cross was touch homeward just in front of gaol, the save that came was top class. At the death the home lads had one more surge, Beven supplied a cross, No 10 (Michael Stockdale) swung a leg and hit fresh air, Hanson made good contact and sent the globe towards goal - it flew over the horizontal - and we were done.
A cuppa and a Mars Bar for the break. This was still a competitive match, Atherton needed high discipline and an outstanding work ethic to stay in touch - Avro just needed to keep on doing what they were doing, we headed out into the wind, here's what happened.
The Vestacare residents were straight on it, No 17 (Jake Pollard) in the mix and being a real menace. Atherton managed to create an attack but Avro absorbed and sprung like a amphetamine laden turd from the rear of a nervous fatman. A ball was played into the box, Potts reacted and touched towards goal, and yet again a top notch save was made. The ball remained in play, was nutted back with an Avro player there to touch home, somehow the post was struck - what a miss. The hosts advanced once more, Beven had a good dig not far off the mark and then another onslaught saw a tidy shot come and the man between the Atheron uprights produce a dazzling one handed stop. 2 corners followed the first was crap, the second dealt with by the mittman after Stockdale's up and down header. No 7 (Nathan Strong) had a shot for ALR soon after, it went for a corner that duly produced nothing but led to a brief period of give and take. The hosts came out of this touch and go session on top, Potts had a low firm punt that went for an angled kick. The ball in was decent but an offside decision pissed in the chips of promise.
Next, yes Avro came once again, the full width of the pitch was used, the passing was exemplary, the final ball in was top notch with No 16 (Michael Norton) looking certain to score. Not so, the gent in the gloves was zoned in, what a crackin' reaction block. The home team though were irrepressible, some sweet passing and fine work was had, No 2 (Sam Rathbone) making a noteworthy contribution, No 15 (Joe Rathbone) at the apex of the assault and duly bringing up the third strike of the game. A minute later a corner came the same way, the ball was struck goalward with Havern once more using strong hands to deny a ripple of the mesh. The ball went loose though, Sam Rathbone was on hand, 4 - 0 - job done.
20 minutes left on the clock, Avro now played higher up the pitch, No 3 ( Nicholas Alexander) was becoming a nuisance trespasser and was unlucky not to bag a goal of his own when a cross dipped just beneath the bar but was tipped over at the last. Atherton now looked desperate and scrambled like worried Turkeys in a Bernard Matthews' sex bar. A long ball came for the hosts, a ball the split the opposing rear pack in two and allowed No 4 (Vincent Howell) to slip in and coolly finish from the edge of the box. Pollard sent forth a rasper soon after, thankfully for the Rovers it went wide. Potts had a pop that was saved and then from a goalkick the ball came back, Beven spied glory and wham - another insult to injury was donated to the suffering ALR pack. From the tidal wave the guests managed to scrape together a shot via No 8 (Bradley Aspinall). The keeper spilled but any predators were absent and after another tame jaunt into territory virtually unknown the ALR lads were found wanting, caught on the hop with Potts finalising proceedings with the 7th goal and his own personal hat-trick. It could have been 8 soon after but Norton was denied by the still stubborn goalie and then Atherton had one last punt via No 2 (Fernanado Usombo) but the ball just wouldn't stay down. 7 - 0 - it stayed - it could have been so much more. Man of the Match, for me at least, goes to the guest No 1 (Daniel Havern) who may have let 7 goals in but produced some outstanding saves and with a more organised side in front of him could have even kept a clean sheet. It was a ruddy good effort and added much excitement to the game - Atherton, if rebuilding from the back, have their first solid stone in place.
FINAL THOUGHT - Today we had wind, rain, hailstone, a rainbow, and a watershed of goals from a very efficient home team. In truth, the opposition are in a state of unsettled disarray at the moment but Avro were exemplary and if they would have had their true shooting boots on and not been denied by a very effective keeper their tally could easily have ended up around the dozen mark. They are in second place in the league, today all the reasons why they are in that position were on show - highly focused, communicative, willing to run on and off the ball and perfectly balanced in all areas of the park. They may just fall short of promotion this year, that is no great disaster as Longridge are pure quality and there is always next time around. Atherton Laburnum Rovers have been through the mire this season, both on and off the pitch and they really did look like a team today lacking in bite, a touch off the pace and towards the latter end, running out of gas. With politics, financial hassles, players leaving and just plain old bad luck they are going to be relegated this time around, a sore loss for the league indeed. We will still pop down wherever they end up and although today there were many negatives I personally think they are not that far off the standard that they want to be at. The key is playing as a complete unit and when a player has the ball giving him as many options as possible. This takes awareness and a use of the full pitch, I am sure they can get there and sincerely wish them all the best. Me and the missus pootled off home with this seasons goal average up and with another trip to Avro on the cards in 5 days time - here's to another 7 goals please.
5th March 2019 - Irlam FC 0 v 2 Bootle FC - A day of work to keep ye olde Fungal bugger out of mischief. Thankfully I found time in my lunch break to send a death threat to a local MP as well as a pair of used underpants for good measure (Peregrine Smug, you were asking for it). I have heard you can get into trouble for this kind of behaviour but if I get caught I will plead diminished responsibility and claim that the underpants were only dirty as I had run out of Lux Flakes. After work and a work-out on the bag (no, not a masturbation session) I tried to identify a moss and a weevil - it is what I do, sometimes my head gets in knots but I do want to try and get wildlife more note and help it flourish. My wife came home, we had a snack and then the road was traveled down to our destination. We entered a melee of commuters shitting themselves to get from nowhere to nowhere. My message is simple - 'relax, there is no hurry, it is better to get home safe and sound but please don't make us late for the kick off you set of bastards'! Arriving at the ground we indulged in the usual salutations, purchased some chips and opted for our standing spot. This was a battle of two blue armies and I was calling for a close encounter. I know my limitations and will keep my prediction private - all will be revealed at the end of the report or, if you have had a peek on-line, you may already know what score I have opted for.
As soon as the ball got rolling the wind picked up and the rain fell, we dashed for cover, little did we know the weather was going to be a reflection of the on-field antics. In the opening stage both teams battled hard and strove to find some semblance of control with little in the way of any fluent quality. If anything Irlam were edging matters and using more of the playing surface than their opponents. The first break duly came the way of the hosts, the culmination being a shot from No 9 (Jordan Buckley) that the guest keeper did well to save. Soon after Buckley nipped in again but the touch was weak and wide, the brief excitement was washed away by the rather shitty conditions. As Bootle ploughed away and 'pissed into the piss' (for want of a better phrase), they won the first corner which was akin to a drunken Ronnie Corbett - short and wasted. Bootle came close again not long after when a cross was floated over the reaching keeper and just needed the barest of touches to break the stubborn deadlock - no takers were to be seen. From here, in truth, there was little to report, this was a chess match of two tightly knit unit both snuffing each other out and making for a very unattractive impasse.
The dying stages of the first half fizzled out with a whole lot of poor decision making, some wayward passing and a lack cohesion. The referee called for a halt and people fled for refreshments. Me and the missus stayed put, necked a bag of Prozac, rung up the local CBT councillor and asked for some positive vibes and decided to keep the razors nearby...just in case. Look, 99.9% of my reports I deem to be positive, I am struggling to maintain that emotive modus operandi here - it was, so far, a shocker.
The second half began, John D joined us and was also of the belief that this was struggling to get going (to say the least) and committed himself to a 1 - 1 draw. The first action was borne via the hosts hard-working feet. A free-kick was had, knocked in, knocked out before No 8 (Liam Morrison) made a thunderous connection and brought the first genuine gasp of the night - alas the ball went wide. Offsides came each way, the ghastly contest continued although Bootle did muster one decent passing sequence that saw a decent shot fly just over the horizontal - was this going to lead to something we could label as 'quality' - surely not! Suddenly Bootle pushed, they were given time to stroke the ball around the box. Irlam slid around, a low ball cross came and up stepped No 6 (Connor Millington) to tap home - and about time too!
This spark should have put a rocket up the jacksie of the game but all we got was a damp squib, there was a serious stranglehold on matters and no matter how the teams huffed and puffed this was a real nip and tuck affair. A corner came from the mush, it went the way of The Mitchells. The globe was delivered and met with good cranial gumption by the incoming No 5 (Ryan Ledson), the end result wasn't that far off the mark. We soon entered the last 5 minutes of this stodgy contest, an Irlam ball came, the substitute No 16 (George Farrelly) was put through on goal, he galloped with keen focused zest, the keeper (Ryan Jones) was all that needed to be negotiated. It turned out that the gloved guardian was up to the task and saved mighty well. From the action at one end went down the other, a throw for Bootle was had, the ball knocked back towards the halfway line, a place of little peril, or so it would seem. Bootle's No 8 (Liam Loughlin) cracked one forth, he had grand ideas and watched his effort fly high and fall goalwards. The keeper suddenly looked panic stricken, this effort was going to be mighty close and as the ball fell with pace, the mittman backtracked and reached out a hand - too late, the spherical projectile fell below the bar, rippled net and was a fine strike for the memory banks. This was the 90th minute, the closing stages exhibited more life and excitement than witnessed all night long, Buckley for Irlam had a dig at the end of a decent move but couldn't find the target and No 10 (Carl Peers) for the guests sent in a fine strike at the death that needed a firm hand to touch over the bar - and we were done.
This had been a grueller, a test of one's patience, a glutinous treacle to get through with the end result perhaps just going the right way. Man of the Match goes to Bootle's No 8 (Liam Loughlin) for his wonder goal and peristent hard work in the incessant bluster that made sure all and sundry stuck to their task. This was a hard working shift, and in truth it had to be. Farewells were had, we made haste through the gloom, homeward at last - do I sound relieved?
FINAL THOUGHT - Well what can I say - what a trial this was, in truth one of the few times at this wonderful non-league level when I went home...frustrated. It wasn't a good match this, a very constipated affair that never really shat forth any consistent thrills and spills and left all and sundry wanting more. No doubt the Bootle fans went home happy and they did see a fine strike in the dying stages but, for the neutral, this was a definite duffer. Irlam are well settled at this level and are no mugs and no matter who they play they always battle well and hold their own. They are a good unit and well versed, today they were just up against an equally tough side who got the final rub of the soaking green. Bootle are in second place in the league, behind the fine unit that is City of Liverpool, I think that speaks volumes. They won't catch the Purple Pack, but are still making sure the leaders don't rest on their laurels. What the team need to do now is see the season out as best as they can and keep on giving a good account of themselves, hopefully building upon their unity and making for a force to be really reckoned with next season. If they stick together they could be the favourites to win promotion next time around, but we all know about those 'if's - they are almost as bad as those pesky 'buts'. It keeps us interested though and despite tonight's match being a poor do we will be on a touchline again this Saturday as keen as ever.
2nd March 2019 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 3 v 2 Wythenshawe Amateurs - Up quicker than a fellow who had shit the bed, out on the bike and riding like the wind with a finger up its jacksie. Alas I am no Eddie Merckx and am easily distracted by wildlife. Bird song was rife, some logs exposed many surreptitious creatures and one or two fungi caught my roving eye. Home and a quick change and out for some woodchip and snacks with my grand wife. The garden was sorted and computer work done. After a work-out on the punchbag (no my mother wasn't visiting today) I had a grand dinner, steak pie and peas, the food of the fat northern bastard. After a few hours pottering I arrived at this local ground in good time, met up with STP Stu and chewed the usual cud with his good self and a few local 'erberts who make this place a joy to visit. I didn't know that the Nomad's goalkeeping coach was running an on-the spot clinic and despite suffering from manic depression and trench foot was doing free-of-charge body inspections. The good news is my piles are back inside the rectum, the pain in my back is nothing to worry about and the boil on my buttocks has been lanced. I am booked in next week for a prostate check, I don't know how that will go as the said medical man promised to do it with his goalkeeping gloves on - ouch!
Prior to the game I had idiotically predicted a 2 -2 draw, I say idiotically because trying to pick these results is madness and very rarely proves to be successful. In fact you'd would have more chance of triumph picking the nose of Barry Manilow, I am sure he keeps his savings up there. The weather had been good of late, today it threatened to turn to shit, we took shelter, the crowd grew, the game eventually began. Remember, a 2 - 2 draw, you heard it here first, come the match end I may be a gloating git or the usual sheepish failure - I blame my Doris Stoke's Prophecy Pack - ruddy fraudulent swine she his although the special knickers to help contact the dead are quite comfy.
Settled in and prepared to scribble, the globe turned and the first team to generate a certain level of excitement was the hosts with their robust No 9 (Ashley Harrison) proving to be a real nuisance and having the first dig that caused little fuss. A corner came for the same team soon after. It was drilled in low, lightly touched but lacked power and allowed the keeper to gather. From here Wythy broke with high tempo, No 10 (Jordan Burton) burst with desire, passed and received, let fly and saw his effort get deflected wide. The corner came, No 11 (Alan Dolan) rose and put his noggin on the globe, the awaiting keeper held well. The Ammies advanced once more, Burton away with No 7 (Adam Walker) an option. The player on the ball was zoned in, he needed no assistance and slotted home to give his side the crucial breakthrough - it was a well taken goal and now left the onus on the hosts to produce something special. Almost at once the Nomads had the ball, No 8 (Isaac Graham) moved with intent, roamed inward and put in a tempting ball for No 7 (Kieran Herbert) to attack. Like a pervert pouncing on a discarded copy of Ringpiece Internationale the player cracked one off without a moments hesitation. The contact was sublime, the ball flew with sound direction and much pace, the keeper dove, got mitts on matters but couldn't stop the spherical projectile from penetrating the framework - what a stunning equaliser, the game was now aflame.
Further into the game we advanced, Wythenshawe just shading matters but Cheadle had a half chance next when a free-kick dropped into a perfect position but no takers were present. A defensive header came and a corner was a bonus. The ball was delivered, the delivery shabby and the travelling team trespassed forth with Burton once more at the helm, firing and forcing another good save from the home No 1 (Aaron Tyrer). The game became intense, suddenly the ball was loose, Walker from Wythy lunged, No 6 (Jack Benson) for the Nomads had the same idea and came off worse from a mistimed affair that lacked any spite. The referee sent Walker, ahem...walking, their was much disagreement with the decision and while the badly injured player lay in pain I found matters a little tasteless. The crook chap was carried off (get well soon squire), the game continued and a yellow card was issued soon after for Cheadle's No 4 (Ashley Crank) who was a trifle fortunate after the recent red was issued. Wythenshawe, despite being down to 10 men, came on, Burton prodded a pass to No 8 (Matthew Dodwell) who rounded the advancing mittman and struck the side netting - that was close. Cheadle responded with a long ball, Herbert chased, rounded the keeper, passed and No 10 (James Green), who was in the right place at the right time, tapped home and gave his side the lead.
The final minutes came, Wythenshawe, to their credit, continued to drive forward. They won a corner, a miskick led to a ball finding the Nomadic No 11 (Stephen Kirby) who only had the keeper to beat (easier said than done). An opportunity to lob was avoided, the ball instead was coolly slid along the deck and rolled into the net to bring great joy to the hosts. 3 - 1, a fine turnaround and before the first half ended it could have been 4 but the effort from No 3 (Adam Stuart) was without spite and we stayed as we were.
A wander for the break, tea and choccy, this game was like the dangling conkers of Gay Gordon and up for grabs, my forecast was out of the window, I took off the aforementioned panties of prediction and hung them on a nearby tree - if anyone wants them, feel free.
The second half came, it was a fractured start, the guests were making the running, a ball came into the box and No 9 (Daniel Egan) got in a glancing header. The home mitter kept his eye on the ball and saved well. An angled kick followed, Egan rose and nutted, over. In response Harrison was on the end of a move and decided to chance the shank. The ball was propelled with rasping power, it was a shame to see it fly off target. The tension now rose, the guests worked hard, the resident chaps scrambled, it was a close affair for sure. Burton for the Ammies dinked around the box, worked an opening and placed his shot - the framework was hit, how close was that? Next up and Harrison for the hosts hammered forth, won a free-kick, took it himself and blasted a sizzler that was mere inches astray. This scare forced Wythenshawe into action, No 12 (Keiron Molloy) went on a determined run, laid off to a colleague who crossed. Dodwell was quick to react, had one look, a second look and pulled the trigger - a cracking goal was the outcome - 3 - 2 - hold onto your undercarriage folks, things were gonna get frisky.
Down tbe back stretch we went, the visitors still pushed, a few efforts went close, Cheadle Heath Nomads were riding their luck and playing with fire. 2 corners came, the second was blazed in, the defensive header was firm but the respite temporary. As Cheadle broke they were caught out, Molloy was at the apex of a counterpunch, the protecting tackle of the home No 2 (Jack Warren) was absolutely top class. Time was now running out for the Wythy Warriors, a long ball came, Molloy was a persistent pain in the proverbials and snuck in, shot from an impossible angle and quivered the horizontal - unlucky man. Again the guests came, the ball entered the danger zone, Cheadle were just off the pace and a lunge came, a player felled and the penalty spot indicated by the man in black. Egan was the man to save his sides bacon, he struck the ball well and into the bottom corner. Tyrer dove low, stretched and produced a quality save that sent us into extra time with the Nomads looking to maintain their one goal advantage. A lot of bluster, heave-ho and mad dash action came and the game, as it turned out, stayed as it was. This had been a ruddy good contest, Man of the Match goes to Cheadle Heath Nomad's No 1 (Aaron Tyrer) for several good blocks, keeping himself under control (not an easy task for this enthusiastic fellow) and for a final save that did what it says on the box - saved the day. Good work man, I hope the lads get the drinks in for ya. Farewells and homeward, another great game, another 90 minutes well spent - no complaints at all.
FINAL THOUGHT - 5 pounds on the gate, 5 goals as a result, here are 5 reasons why you should support Non-league Football. One - you never fail to get value for money. Two - this is where the game is at its best and played with a honest reality. Three - without support these clubs would certainly go under. Four - the people involved are doing what they do because they love the game, it makes sense. Five - this game is still at the working man's level and the people you come across are, in the main, pleasurable enthusiasts who make for a good day out. Now think on! Today Wythenshawe Amateurs, despite losing, showed why they are at the upper end of the table and still sniffing for promotion. This was a huge dent in their ambitions, it could be a damaging nail in the coffin of fortune but they will be back and have some very, very good players in their ranks. They need to avoid too many verbals, focus on the skill and I reckon things can only get better. Cheadle Heath Nomads cause me to be a hypocrite. I am a neutral, I try to stay indifferent but I do like this side and feel welcome each and every time I go. They are an amiable bunch of people who run the team and the players themselves always give 100% and always leave one unsure as to the outcome. Today they did well to take the end prize but they do need to keep possession better and learn to calm matters down when holding the lead. They scraped home here but there are lessons to be learnt, as in the words of that famed butcher Jack Jones - 'Don't panic Mr Mainwaring, don't panic!'
26th February 2019 - Irlam FC 2 v 2 Burscough FC - The sun had been shining of late, the topsy turviness of the seasons continues as climate change takes hold and the natural world gets thrown all ways. I had been out and about of course, taking in the sights and sounds and ignoring the goons on their phones, the discarded litter and the general self-absorbtion that sees things spiral downward - come on lad, stay chipper. The day at work was decent enough, I had a dinner time break enjoying the literary weavings of Somerset Maugham and when cycling home I noted a few bits of nature for my latest book. The aforementioned niggles had not only got on my tits of late but were emboldened enough to take up residence and hold a party around my nipple area. Life can get like this, and even the happiest soul can be affected by the pap-based problems. I tried to elevate myself, I still felt on edge so as a kickback I took a dump on my neighbours car, sent a fake hospital letter to my Uncle saying that he needed to go for a scan as he may be a black homosexual and made a crank call to the local council offices requesting help for an untidy back passage (yes we do have a back passage, and yes it is untidy, and of course I meant my arse). After these therapeutic misdemeanours I felt a certain exhilaration and the night's football could only enhance the lofted sensation. I like visiting Irlam FC, some nice folk can be found there although we had been neglectful this season due to flitting about here and there. Burscough is also one of my favoured grounds and one not visited enough this season, as per I was torn down the middle as to who to holler for, it is no bad thing being a neutral though and to just support the grassroots game is enough. If one can do it with a positive air and of course, a clean rear, then so much the better.
The sable air of late February started to chill, after a chat with some fine folk who make this club tick and local groundhopper John D, 22 entertainers took to the pitch, 3 black clad officials were ready for action, and so were we onlooking supporters. The ball began to rotate, the chase was on, the early throes of passion were brisk and highly animated, with both teams exhibiting sharpness and positivity. Irlam had the first thrust of any significance with a goal kick sweetly touched on to No 7 (Marcus Perry) who wasted no time in letting fly from the angle. The ball flashed over the bar, it was a good move, the final choice was wrong. From midfield mayhem, the host's No 8 (Liam Morrison) was the next to advance. He was allowed to progress, sensed a chance of triumph and had a pop - in truth it wasn't that far of rippling the netting. Burscough now summoned a break for themselves with a rapid rush down the flank that saw a ball enter the box and some pinball action ensue. Irlam survived this unexpected hassle but Burscough came again with a sublime pass over the top walloped by No 10 (Connor Finlayson) who was closer to taking out a high-flying satellite station than lobbing the keeper and hitting the net. Irlam though were slightly ruffled, they duly dawdled in defence, their opponents were allowed to knock the ball about in territory marked 'danger' with Finlayson sending in a boomer that sizzled over the horizontal.
The game was a fascinating affair, Perry for The Mitchells had a shot once more, a real thumping effort but again with too much uplift. For me though, the travelling pack were slightly shading matters but just a little trigger shy in the vital areas whereas Irlam were keen to shoot when they did get into a place of promise. No 4 (Daniel Brady) for the guests created the next thrill, he powered ahead with drive and focus, was tumbled in the box, the referee ignored the penalty claims. The same side prowled, No 3 (William Doherty) burst in, a touch came, the resulting save adequate. Straight up the other end we went, a dazzling break nearly burnt out my retinas, a cross came and No 10 (Haydn Foulds) hit first time - like a toothless asp it lacked any real bite. The heat generated by the on-field antics grew, Perry for Irlam added to this by being floored in the box and bringing due uproar - the referee was unconcerned and only a corner was given. Outrage, disbelief, thermally radiant words of a naughty nature were rattled around the ground. When the ball came in, went out and was thumped back and the net bulged it was sheer salt in an open wound that the flag went up and no goal was the verdict - cripes.
The final stages of the half came, Burscough had 3 corners on the bounce, the first was shabby, the second a little better, the third was gathered by the home keeper who unexpectedly dropped, brought a moment of panic and a colouring of the underwear, but duly grabbed at the second attempt. The visiting bench were becoming more vocal, a word in a shell-like was had, Burscough came on, No 8 (Prince Ekpolo) played thief, pilfered the prized globe, put one on a plate for No 9 (Chad Whyte) who cracked one off (ooh on such a cold night too) just wide of the far stick. With seconds now left of this intriguing opening half Irlam galloped and from another blazing wing run the ball came, a mis-kick had, a melee cultivated and then a loose ball was latched onto by No 3 (Joel Amado) who struck, got a slight deflection and watched the ball loop into the awaiting net - 1 - 0 and right on the stroke of half-time, the referee blew - what a decent do this was.
We stayed put for half-time, had a natter with the aforementioned John D (and to his shame Blue Oyster Cult fan - tut, tut) and me and the missus shared a choccy bar - John was being good and having an apple! The teams came out for half two, take yer pick folks, this was still anyone's game!
The initial action of part two came via the Blues with a corner bringing hope but leading to a swift counterattack led by Ekpolo. Options were plentiful, time was taken, a real opportunity looked lost but the ball was played wide, a cross thrashed inward and a tap home by No 9 (Chad Whyte) brought the perfect response and the equalising goal. It was as simple as you like and sent this game up to the next level of intrigue. Irlam came close to regaining the lead soon after when Perry flew, passed back to Foulds who knocked in a cross cum shot that nearly fell into the top corner - the keeper did well to palm behind. The ball in led to sour FA and the first scrappy period followed. From a period lacking in glimpses of goal Burscough broke like a fart from a ruptured ringpiece, a foul came and more uproar was borne. As distraction dominated many heads, a cross found the crust of Burscough's Whyte who nutted home and bagged a crucial strike. As Irlam remained shaken up, the team with their tails up pounced once more, No 11 (Jordan Lorde) was at the apex of a fine move, the shot alas went across the face of goal instead of bang in the meshed mush. Irlam responded, a quick move was negated by the nut of the resolute No 5 (Luke Gibson) with the shot back of a standard best filed as 'crap'.
The impetus of the match never let up, Foulds for the hosts nearly snuck in but the guest keeper read the situation well and beat the attacker to the ball and then into the final tussle we went, Irlam desperate, Burscough resilient. As Burscough began to absorb Irlam gradually inched closer. A passing sequence around the box suddenly led to a break, a foul in the box came - the referee this time submitted to the hollers and the hands of fate, the spot was firmly pointed at. Morrison had the chance to bag his side a point, it was the last minute of official time - he slotted home with aplomb, what a last minute saviour, what a way to end a fine game and share the spoils. The final gasps where played out by tense tyrants tackling with gusto - no real chances arose - the result I feel was mighty fair to all involved. Man of the Match goes to Burscough's No 8 (Prince Ekpolo) who I thought epitomised everything good about tonight's game with a high work rate, incessant persistance and many neat touches from the midst of much aggravated mither. It was a decent effort among many fine stints, good on ya and keep it up. We headed home pleased, by heck ain't this footy lark good fun.
FINAL THOUGHT - Tonight we witnessed two mid-table teams who had no fear of the drop, no hope of promotion but who, nonetheless, gave a fine account of themselves and made sure all and sundry saw a fine competitive midweek match. I think Irlam's key to their effectiveness comes down to the faithtful players who stick with the club and the cohesion and communication they have on the pitch, elements that always make them a tough nut to crack. They have had several good cup runs this season, showing they can compete at a higher level when need be and make each and every team they meet earn their crust. They have earned their premiership place and now the next step is to just nudge up the table - it is a real conundrum as to how this would be done as there seems no real flaw in this more than efficient side. Burscough Borough are another capable side and have very little to criticise judging by today's effort. They play with good tempo, have an on-the-ball awareness to applaud and if they are willing to pull the trigger when in a position of threat they may just scrape out a few more wins. Their players work hard, they play for the full 90 minute stretch and I reckon there is more to come. To prove my theory I will pop up to Burscough again very soon, it would be rude not to... talking of rude, did I ever tell you the tale of Tommy Smith's Love Moustache - well...perhaps another time, I shall stick to being positive rather than perverse!
