2022/2023 SEASON ROUND UP

 Matches attended

77

Goals witnessed

291

Average goals per game

3.77

Highest scoring game

Wythenshawe Amateurs Reserves 2 v 8 Denton Town

Ten most seen teams

Maine Road FC 16

Denton Town 13

Cheadle Town 11

Cheadle Heath Nomads 11

Wythenshawe Amateurs 7

Styal FC 5

Stockport Georgians 4

Stockport Town 4

Eccleshall 4

Mersey Valley FC 3

Raffles won

As you can guess - bugger all.

End of season round-up

A strange season that in part stuttered and then flashed by like a whizzed up Linford Christie with a peppered gherkin rammed up his arse.  The viewing was spread far and wide with the usual favourite teams getting a good donation of aural observation.  October and November saw me miss many matches due to fungal duties - there ain't nothing finer than taking a group of folk into the woods to show them one's stinkhorn or relate tales about an episode of Crampballs that saw me bent double.  It is what I do in the hope of getting people enthused about nature, saving this dying planet and of course, arousing my rather aged nether's. I also had a major health scare that nearly saw my number called.  I was blessed to dodge a bullet but a few physical issues (darn that U-bend in my penis) needed attending to and so a couple more games were missed whilst I got back on the right path (well as close as I have ever been). 

The football on show was enjoyed as much as ever as was the touchline crack with many familiar faces.  STP Stu was by my side more often than not, with it always being a case of who gets to the ground first pays that duly had me attending matches well before kick-off.  In fact if Stu keeps up his heady pace I may have to start camping out at grounds the night before kick-off.  The viewing took place primarily within the North West Counties and Cheshire League structures with the odd foray into the Manchester League taken when I was on gigging duty or out nosying in the natural world.  The NWCFL left me a trifle disappointed if the truth be told with many teams not catching the eye and lacking an all round flair and unpredictability.  Most matches I attended were run of the mill although as ever, Maine Road FC, provided their usual waywardness and thus made a mockery of many pre-game predictions.  The club is always a favourite haunt and the ethos is right up my DIY street - it goes without saying that there will be many more trips there in the future.  Wythenshawe Amateurs upped the ante at the right time of the season and got their just rewards but if Cheadle Heath Nomads hadn't have had such a dreadful start things may have been a little different - it makes no odds though, the end table never lies and all the best to Wythy for the season ahead.

The Cheshire League has always been a source of fascination and pleasure, there is something earthy and may I say, cobbled together, about the whole set-up but it always gets by and allows us to see some good football played at a surprisingly decent level.  Mersey Valley FC is perhaps one of the best locations due to the open spaces, the lovely lasses in the clubhouse and the natural areas surrounding the ground that give me ample opportunity to explore before kick off.  Due to lowly attendances it helps keep one fit as chasing the 'out-of-play' ball is mandatory if one cares to stand on the far side of the ground (take note Kev). I hope to pay this club some serious attention next season and do some reports to get them a little extra note.  Of course Denton Town are a good club, decent people, are in a fine area and are now a Premiership team.  The support is increasing and I am sure will continue to do so if they have a good season next year.  My punky nature keeps me wandering and I can never commit to one club but Denton will always get their fair share of support from me that is for sure.

It was noticeable that I didn't do many reports this year but I did reach the 400 mark, a tally I think that surely afforded me a break.  I aim to do 25 reports a season from now on, I will go for variety and scribble at clubs that have not been disgraced by my penmanship.  It may help, it may cause concern for my mental state, it may end up in the local asylum for unadulterated shock treatment but, I will be out there, wallowing in the Non-League artform and now and again hailing its glory and wonder in written format.  Now to get my cramping balls tanned over the summer months and the nib of my pencil sharpened and ready. You may be intrigued, you my be appalled, but one thing you will not be is missing out on any touchline deviancy -watch this space.

In memory of Sean Errol Blaney - thanks for the good banter mate!

REPORT 400 (ON THE ROAD AGAIN)

6th March 2023 - Maine Road FC 0 v 4 Stockport Town - After a day of birding and looking at some mosses and a few fungi I had a read, continued with my new diet and set out to football to compose my last football report for a while.  400 is a nice round number to finish on and where better than to scribble my observations than at one of my fave clubs, namely Maine Road FC.  I arrived with an aching arse after the day's cycling and roaming, I am an old crock of late with the body twanging and playing up in many areas.  The new eating regime is set to sort things out but with so many herbs, vegetables and fruits entering the old gastric compost bin my arse is set to blow itself inside out in one mighty rasp of degrading filth.  So, with reinforced underpants donned (sky blue of course), buttocks soaked in liniment and a wine-cork rammed up the chuff just in case, I arrived at Brantingham Road, paid my dues and had a brew with STP Stu.  The ever amiable Jake Davies (Wythenshawe Amateurs Assistant Manager) joined us and revealed his plans to assassinate several Stockport Town players in his attempt to get his team promotion.  I do think that throwing hand grenades about at football matches is a trifle risky though so suggested he opt for a more subtle option - poisoning, strangulation or of course, a rigorous bumming.  Our good friends Gareth and Sandra Evans soon joined us, fine folk we see regularly and who attend the odd gig here and there. After more natter, a final slurp was had and we all went forth with perches taken and the usual wayward predictions made.  All were opting for an away win, I was going with my ticker rather than my turnip and hoping for a 2 - 2 draw - why not indeed?

So the teams set to battle at 7.45pm, action was surely guaranteed and came almost immediately when The Town lost the ball and Road's No 7 (Arek Pociask) raced forth and had a chance to nail one of the quickest goals on record.  The shot however lacked confidence and direction, and both teams eventually settled into their groove.  

The hosts soon advanced again, a ball found the flank-flashing No 2 (Jake Pogson) who delivered a cross that Pociask disappointingly headed over.  The guests now warmed to the task at hand with pressure applied and forcing The Road to defend like hepped up chipmunks with an arse full of pepper.  The guest No 7 (Tobias Green) had a pop that the vocal mittman easily saved and then, from being on the back peg, the home lads cultivated a smooth breakaway that saw Pociask feed No 8 (Ben Mooney) who walloped and only just missed the target.

The game looked quite balanced in these early throes, Pogson for the blue clad boys came next, a wonderful ball was posted, Pociask had another dig but only won a corner.  The angled kick came, a head rose from the depths of the pack and again missed the strike zone, that was a big chance for sure. Stockport bounced back, a cross and a header by No 6 (Michael Raynes) at the back post - outcome, ball over the bar.

A goal was surely on the cards and the strike came soon after when Stockport advanced, a long ball was sweetly chested into the path of No 11 (Kyle Foley) who darted with intent, negotiated his marker and put the ball past the keeper with seasoned aplomb - well taken.

The guests looked comfortable, Green had a pop that was well struck but not even close.  No 10 (William Calligan) came soon after, a strong run was finalised by a cross, the final head was a trifle weak.  Road were now feeding on scraps, No 11 (Jamie Roe) put a good ball through to Pogson who posted a delicious cross that Pociask failed to connect with.  

The half wound down, there was little to add except that the hosts went down to 10 men after a sin-bin offence was committed.  Matters stayed as they were, I expected more, especially from the hosts.

We didn't move for the break, I had my fruity power drink and took in the goodness whilst having a natter.  We discussed the latest books we have read. I had currently enjoyed 'Eugenie Grandet' by Honore De Balzac - a tale regarding a parsimonious old blighter and his warped ways.  I am now reading 'All Quiet On The Western Front' by Erich Maria Remarque - thank goodness Mr Davies had opted out of his war-based attack on tonight's visitors.

And back to the game...

...The away team were straight on it,  Foley was immediately in on goal with the keeper to beat.  The mesh protector was beaten in style - a two goal lead was already looking insurmountable for the home pack. No sooner had play recommenced than Foley was nearly bagging his hat-trick but this time the keeper held firm. A free-kick came the other way, Roe posted but The Town were like the clenched arse crack of Giant Haystacks - utterly impenetrable.  

Maine Road had a decent spell of possession but the end product was glaringly lacking.  Stockport pushed and prodded, a break by the Road saw a shout for a penalty ignored before the travelling pack raced away with Foley at the apex and duly burying his third goal of the night.  Wham, bam and slam - game done and dusted methinks.

From here the game rolled on, there was little to add except Town's Foley went out wide, delivered a ball that No 9 (Daniel McLaughlin) simply knocked home and after a fairly lame Maine Road spurt the game ended with the home team guilty of not hitting the target in 90 minutes of play.  Man of the Match was an easy choice, Stockport Town's No 11 (Kyle Foley) deserved his 3 goal prize and put in some serious work that was direct and honest at all times.  A good player seemingly on an upward curve - it is grand to see.  I headed home and was glad to receive a warm brew and toast in the car, my wife is the ultimate gem.

FINAL THOUGHT - Tonight was a tale of two teams heading in different directions it seems.  Stockport Town look set to be moving up into the Premier League, Maine Road look set to finish the season on a real downer and drop a few places in the process.  The guests are a clinical and efficient team without doing anything stunningly dazzling.  They are going to have a big task on their hands next year - they might just be up for it!  Maine Road are stuttering along, tonight displayed many failings in a team in need of some drastic changes.  The ethos to play good football is there but every team needs a bit of height, some serious pace and a certain degree of cohesion.  It is going to be a slow wind down to the end of the campaign but thankfully for The Road the league, this time around, is rather weak.  I shall be back in the usual spot a few more times no doubt, watching what unfolds and hopefully enjoying a  few winning games.  At some point next season I may even get the pen out again and scribble a report.  Onwards.

MILLS AND GLOOM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CAMMELLS TOO HUMPY AS WYTHY SNEAK A WIN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See ya soon folks!

HOLY McFOLEY THE ROAD IS BLOCKED

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GOODNIGHT AT SILENTNIGHT FOR THE RED MEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WOE OF THE WASTERS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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