SCRAPING BY

9th February 2025 - Thornton Cleveleys FC 1 v 2 Atherton Laburnum Rovers - Me and the missus were up early, as was our fine daughter who was dropped off at the local train station so she could go into Manchester and do a few set tasks.  We were soon on the road and after just over 1 hour, we were parked up in Fleetwood where we had a mooch.  A fine indoor market was a joy, retailers of various odds and ends were noted, some were selling knickers for those penny-pinching grannies and smoking requisites for those still enjoying a drag. The whole place had a distinct feeling of nostalgia and something honest. We ended up with 4 more books, 2 bumblebee cushions and a fine early lunch around the corner at Pablo's cafe.

Prior to today's game we still had time to deal with and so headed to Skippool Creek for a walk and an indulgence in nature.  It was a nice stroll despite a few folks letting their dogs run riot and all and sundry not taking note of the miracles around them.  We know the world is screwed and this country is falling apart at the seams, too many are out in the wild with no inkling what is nearby. Today we were blessed with flocks of fine Lapwings, Curlews, Black Tailed Godwits and Redshanks with decent numbers of Shelduck, Teal and various Gulls all in the mix as well as a few fungi, 2 of which were something of a rarity. Darn the digital drain and the blinkers that are forced over peoples peepers.

After the walk we nipped into a garden centre, made a couple of purchases and arrived at the ground for today's hoofing entertainment.  A warm brew, toast, a sausage roll and a contemplation of the pending game and a few local birdies.  My missus opted for a 2-2 draw, I fancied a 1-3 end result - as it transpired we were both close but failed to bag the bacon.  It was a cold day, I regretted not picking up and donning a pair of the budget bloomers - a big mistake, I just hoped my Larry Grayson hand-knitted underduds would keep certain areas warm - ooh shut that arse crack!

The game was soon afoot, within a few minutes the first break came with the home No 9 (Luke Noble) executing a delicious touch and turn before breaking from a tight pack and putting in a decent low shot.  The guest keeper was wide awake and produced a more than adequate save (ooh the spoilsport).  A corner came and was nutted out with a repeat corner contributing to some good pressure that saw ALR scramble clear.

On the game went, the hosts won the 3rd corner of the game with the guests defending well and maintaining their foothold despite the early advances from the opposing force.  As the TC lads pressed once more the Rovers reacted and cultivated their first attack.  No 10 (Thomas Romano) wandered and weaved, put in a cross that No 9 (Ryan Talbot) headed towards goal only to see the ball miss by mere inches.

And 2 more corners came, one for the home team that saw a cranial connection by a striker send the ball the wrong way and a brace of quick follow-up shots get blocked by well-flung defensive carcasses.  ALR's angled kick brought no penetration either as the guardian of the meshing did what they were expected to do. Atherton were soon advancing again with a fine cross finding Talbot's bonce but with the ball, once more, straying off target.

This was a fascinating game with Thornton Cleveleys continuing to make most of the running with plenty of flowing football and notable endeavour.  The opponents were stuttering along in a disjointed fashion but, like any team having a good season, they were still holding their own and promising to pounce.

Romano for the Rovers had a shot saved, No 7 (Jordan Beavers) finalised a counter but was again denied by the man between the timbers.  The instant response came, ALR's ever efficient and troublesome Romano crossed, a poke to goal came, the keeper fumbled and the ball was tapped home.  It looked to be a shocker, the liner was waving his flag for offside, would the resident pack learn from this scare and put the pennant waving chap on their Christmas Card list?

A move by the home team saw a throw, touch and pass see No 10 (Benjamin Duffield) full stop matters with a rather weak shot the mitter easily dealt with. The same number at the other end tried to punish this tame effort but was just denied a breakthrough and so we remained all square.  A brace of ALR corners came, the first produced nowt, the second saw a sound delivery get palmed away and No 4 (Lewis Adams) collect.  A quick turn, a no-nonsense shot and the keeper flapped and the globe entered the netting to give the guests that all important first goal - and against the grain it was.

The visitors now rose in confidence, Romano and No 2 (George Chadwick) linked up, a cross ensued with the home No 1 (James Faiers) down well to smother all potential danger.  The Gamble Road Crew now dug deep, a shot from No 8 (Oliver Wilkinson) went just wide and a punt from No 4 (Adam Sumner) had too much elevation and was disappointing to say the least.  The menace that is Romano had a pop for the leading team next with the keeper saving well and keeping his squad in it.  From here more efforts came, Chadwick for the yellow and blues was unlucky not to double his side's lead when the ball clattered the horizontal.  Thornton Cleveleys were living on the edge.

This was an all action game, I was struggling to keep my notes up to speed.  The hosts broke with a lofted ball from No 11 (Daniel Stoney) finding Noble who was vulgarly tumbled.  Stoney took the free-kick, a deflection saw Beavers nip in to bury, the keeper did mighty well to stay alert and save.  2 corners came and went, bugger all was borne before ALR sprinted away, Romano feeding Talbot who side footed his shot with the the gloved one just saving and touching onto the bar and over.  The corner (the 10th of the match) was delivered with eye-snagging quality, from the in-box confusion an own goal was witnessed, somehow Thornton Cleveleys were heading into the break 2 goals down.  Noble had one final punt to half the deficit but the ball put in a good impression of John Noake's mutt Shep, and wouldn't stay down, phew - what a turn up, where's me Blue Peter badge?

Half-time saw warming brews, a contemplation of the game so far and a check on other results.  Me and the missus also admired a pair of stunning Mistle Thrushes that were sat in a nearby tree probably wondering what those multi-coloured daft buggers were doing chasing an inedible sphere.  On a day that was getting colder by the minute, I could have been forgiven for thinking the same.

Half two began with the pack with their peckers up making a quick move via Romano who fed Chadwick who had shot but was denied glory by the goalkeeper's legs.  A break in play followed, a player was crook, a few verbals at the referee were choice, the game was soon back underway with shots each end not adding to the day's goal tally.

From here we saw a good flourish of activity from the Cleveley's ranks, the 11th and 12th corners of the match followed with No 3 (Harry Norris) putting one header over and another on the wrong side of the upright.  

The games first dry period came, a whole heap of exertive toil took place at both ends (and in the middle) of the pitch. From the snuffing out patch ALR broke with rapid and direct purpose.  Several light and accurate passes came, Chadwick was the pinnacle component of the move and had the mittman to beat and the game to bury.  The shot was blazed over and we were soon down the other end of the playing arena with Sumner exposing tidy feet and hitting a crisp shot that, like an over-exertive Playtex Bra, just had too much uplift.

It looked as though the score was settled when Thornton Cleveleys won a free-kick and the ball entered the box.  A poor header was the result and (surprise, surprise), an own goal and a life-line for the hosts.  Within a minute the same team were advancing again with a free-kick cheekily flicked on by No 8 (Oliver Wilkinson) and the target zone nearly troubled. That was mighty close.

A few subs came, we entered the closing stages with a few bookings needed to quell some growing unrest.  TC's Noble had a crack that went straight into the keepers midriff and yet another corner came but ALR were veritable concrete. As the arse end of the game was exposed, the hosts were just lacking the all important razor cut although a couple of late corners nearly bore fruit but a splendid block by Chadwick and a great catch by the No 1 (Joseph Bickerstaffe) helped the guests keep their noses in front.  Before the final whistle a cross for the home team saw Noble touch on and another own goal nearly arise - ALR survived, a last corner failed to add a dramatic full stop and we were eventually... done.

I had found this a thoroughly enjoyable game, I thought it was a very close contest and on a different day the result could have swung the other way.  Man of the Match threw several players into the melting pot but I thought Atherton Laburnum Rover's No 2 (George Chadwick) was effective in various areas and a real reliable rock when it mattered.  This stint, and several others, made sure the team looking for promotion, scraped by with a win.  It all matters.

FINAL THOUGHTS - A new ground is always a bonus, the brew and toast were grand and we had the pleasure of witnessing a very competitive game.  Thornton Cleveley's only have one area to deal with and that is, taking their chances when they arise. They played well today, made many a fine advance but just lacked that decisive touch at the last.  This and a slight tightening tweak at the back and they could move up a couple of places before the season is done.  If they carry on in the same vein, by heck could relegation be a possibility?  Atherton Laburnum Rovers have the league in their hands and if they keep churning out the wins then they will win automatic promotion.  They have some real fine elements in their squad, seem to have a knack to ride a rough period without any leakage and, always look a threat when attacking.  I would be mightily surprised if this lot don't win the league but, matters are far from settled.  We went homeward looking forward to a warm and the latest episode of Z-Cars - as per, variety is a glorious spice.

BLOOMING LABURNUMS AMONGST POT-HOLED ROADS

25th January 2025 - Maine Road 1 v 3 Atherton Laburnum Rovers - Another tough few weeks with a few more faces leaving this world of turmoil and passing on to who knows where.  These last few years have seen many fine folk fall by the wayside and the planet turn to shit - my patience and resolve are bring tested.  As the anarchist saying goes and one I may take heed of 'Keep warm this winter, make trouble'. Bah.

The morn was sedate, me, my wife and daughter pootled around Chorlton, purchased a few books and sundries, had a walk on the local park and indulged in a sun-kissed meal from the ever-reliable Tibetan Kitchen - by heck it was utterly wondrous scran that sat in the gut whilst bringing almost orgasmic joy. From here we had a quick stroll and then I was dumped at football where I purchased another coffee and had a grand chat with the lass who serves and smiles and helps make Maine Road FC a welcome place.

Eventually I was out in the open air, reading about Grasshoppers and soaking up the rays.  A quick chat with Road's Ben Mooney and I had a stroll.  I noted some birdlife - Redwings, Common Gulls, Mistle Thrushes, Starlings and a few others.  I was soon back in my chosen spot, nattering to a trio of keen Atherton LR lads who were loving their football.  Predictions were made, a couple of us went for a 2-2 draw, little did we know how bad Maine Road would be during the first 45 minute stint.

From the kick off ALR began with an eye-catching urgency and endeavour.  Maine Road looked mightily rattled and were struggling to settle.  An Atherton ball came, No 10 (Thomas Romano) was found and left with work to do.  Great feet were used to negotiate two players, the keeper posed a problem but the ball was fired home and the resident team and fans, were left reeling.

The onus was now on MR to try and force the play and make sure this game didn't slip away before it had even started.  A throw in came high up the park, Romano, for the guests, led a lightning break and was unlucky not to go all the way.  An injury, the game soon restarted, Romano was at it again and winning a free-kick.  The outcome of this gratis hoofing was a shot straight into an opposing player - I think 'shite' is the word needed here.

The Atherton lads continued to dictate, much to the delight of the three hollering lads who I nattered with and who made the occasional racket via their enthused gobs.  Against the grain though the sky-blue squad pounced.  No 9 (Kaine Williams) battled away with sound endeavor and found No 11 (Jean Jacques-Kirongozi).  A shot came, the save was sweet, a header from mere feet out was made by No 10 (Mark Pearson) and somehow the ball missed the target - for me this was a real game changing moment, Maine Road could very well pay a huge price for this.  The punishment nearly came when we immediately scooted up the other end with a close in header passing the wrong side of the upright by mere inches - this was a very decent game, but would it be a decent day for the hosts, already I was thinking 'not'.

The Road squandered another chance soon after, somehow won a corner which was soiled by too many horrid touches.  Another corner was abysmal and then we repeated the same scenario at the opposite end of the pitch.  The globe was hoofed high, all peepers in the box stood and watched as the spherical object descended like a forced turd from a constipated eagle's arse. The outcome - a goal straight from the angle - what a fuckin' shambles for the defending pack, what bonus joy for the team in the lead. No 3 (Harvey Brookes) was having it, a late Christmas present methinks, old Santa Claus must be feeling generous.

So, 0-2 it was and after Maine Road were caught dwelling on matters at the rear the Laburnum lads galloped, No 2 (George Chadwick) found himself in possession of the shooting sphere and executed a quite perfect shot that found the bottom corner and finished the game in no uncertain terms.

A combative period ensued, a few shots were had without causing any keeper concern.  The hosts were becoming irate, No 8 (Yousif Yousif) had a moment of spleen venting and was sin-binned. The player exchanged verbals with the ALR lads nearby, it was hardly helping the cause.  No 11 (Brandon Dawson) for the visitors put his head on a cross from No 7 (Joe Bacon) but couldn't keep the ball down and seconds later, the first half was done.

For the break I indulged in a Holly-watering Arthur Bliss, supped some pop, nibbled a Granola bar and pondered how bad Maine Road had been during the first half.  It was an unforgivable stint, the concentration off the ball was woeful and just the all round lack of cohesion indicative of a team whose campaign was liable to fall apart.  The manager must have been akin to a donkey's aroused pecker during the half time interval - trembling with emotion, becoming a deeper shade of purple by the second and liable to fuck anyone who was brave enough to dangle a carrot of disagreement.  I watched the two teams come back out, all the home players seemed to be walking OK - phew, asses with asses intact methinks.

Period two began with The Road looking a better team all round.  A choice ball from Yousif brought hope but Williams just failed to arrive in time and turn executioner. A corner for the same team followed.  The ball in was sweetly struck, the guest keeper though produced some fine hands and quelled any threat.  Once again the hosts came on, a free-kick was posted, some confusion arose and a touch to goal went just wide.  This was a great response after the horrible first half - applause to all for the effort.

The boys of Brantingham Road were now passing well and holding form, although they did allow their opponents a brief break that ended in a shot by No 9 (Harvey Sample) that was fortunately lacking in welly and wide of the mark.  

15 minutes of the second half whizzed by, the result was perhaps set in stone but this was now more about Road's  character than anything else.  As I pondered matters the resident ranks attacked.  A ball was played, Williams was suddenly the owner of the globe, had a quick peek at the target and walloped home.  The response and work effort certainly deserved it, but could the lads add another quick strike and really put the wind up the Athy Lads jacksies?

Some good end to end action came in what was now a balanced contest.  Time was a serious enemy to all comeback hopes and ALR nearly added further cement to their advantage when a corner came and No 4 (Lewis Adams) put in a solid and accurate header.  The home No 1 (Oliver Brockbank) reacted well and made a fine save that led to a Maine Road break which ended with a somewhat duff final ball.

As the blue sky faded so did the sky blue's hopes.  Pearson chased a ball, put in a chip that struck the bar and that was indeed that.  Huffs and puffs with no real threat posed and the final whistle brought a close to play.  The Man of the Match for me was Atherton Laburnum Rover's No 10 (Thomas Romano) for the time he spent on the pitch and his breathless efforts, the danger posed and his commitment to the cause that resulted in an effective first half for his team and a goal for himself.  Many teams are going to find this bloke a pain in the arse for sure, and in a completely non-sexual way - crikey.

From here I went for a coffee with the lasses and then attended my latest Fungalised gig - the Scouse Twats Invasion - it was a cracker.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Atherton Laburnum Rovers look set for promotion, they are a team who start mighty fast and once they have the advantage they look a tough unit to peg back.  All is not as rosy as it seems as the second half saw Maine Road more than hold their own, so this may be a warning to the guests not to rest on their laurels and to see the campaign out with some darn hard work and cohesion.  If they do this, I reckon premier league football awaits - and that will be another new test but well deserved.  Maine Road get on my tits.  They play some good football at times and then somehow manage to plunge the depths and look like a team in disarray.  I think any hopes of promotion are now gone, the key is to use the rest of the season to build confidence, iron out some real flaws and to play with a relaxed and sanguine manner.  The crucial areas for me are the 'off-the-ball' work and the vision when in possession.  If they finish in the top half this time around it will be a fair do, next year though Fungal demands. Only a play-off spot will suffice or I will be bombarding all members of the MR set up with vile abuse, half-cooked onions and, worst of all, signed close-up photographs of my perineum and ringpiece - they have been warned.

A BULLET FROM THE BLUE (AND THE REDS TOO)

18th January 2025 - Cheadle Town 0 v 0 Irlam FC - I am in the midst of a Fungalised gig run, I am showcasing many bands in DIY fashion and it is addling my head.  Many flavours to one fruitcake, a fruitcake with passion and a desire to put back rather than take.  As a result time is flying, the climate is still crashing and the mush of cretins are still dashing (to oblivion).  I could adopt a 'smash and grab' lifestyle and start wearing trendy clothes and following the flock - alas my arse is bared and the fuckers can kiss it.

A morn was spent with the best lasses on the planet, a trip to Wythenshawe shopping centre doused the spirits, a coffee in nearby Cheadle with some good chat raised them again.  I was soon dropped off at footy which was an early finish so I could piss off to Bolton for my next gig from where I would nip down the road to catch another band.  The season so far had left me devoid of any goal-fests, would today deliver the goods?  Well, a chat with Warren Dodd of Irlam FC left me wondering as he was quite happy for  0-1 win as long as his team got the 3 point prize.  Ooh the rotten sod.

So, on a cold and grey day I grabbed a brew and some chips and curry sauce.  The latter were outlandishly satisfying, the former was a fair brew which niggled my prostrate and forced me to take a leak halfway through the first half.  The question is, did the pecker pointing moment force me to miss a goal?  Read on, all will be revealed (including of course, my perished privates).

2pm, the globe was rolling, within seconds it seemed to be spending more time in the air than on the deck as both times tossed about and tussled for the upper hand. The first assault toward the onion bag came via the guests with No 9 (Declan Daniels) laying off to No 7 (Jack Mitchell) whose shot at the angle was woeful. The hosts looked for an immediate reaction but Irlam were already set up solid and were looking like a tough nut to crack.

From another questionable period, akin to the fumblings of wannabe sex star Albert Upright (lots of prodding and poking tha' knows), Irlam were the eventual beneficiaries of a corner kick.  No 10 (John Johnston) was in the mix, a shot came, Cheadle had no need to break sweat and the danger passed easier than a buttered turd.  A free-kick was awarded to the visitors next, following an awful decision for an high foot.  The ball was struck low, a striker completely missed it and a home player was mighty lucky not to have an own goal next to his name.

Cheadle were struggling to gain a foothold here, mainly due to Irlam's off the ball activity. The home No 8 (Darren McKnight) didn't help raise any hopes either when his attempt at a strike was marked down in the 'wank' column next to a note of Kier Starmer's leadership skills (one has to ponder all areas of life). Danger came and went at both ends of the park with no serious peril had.  The game was lacking a true spark and as I nipped for the aforementioned leakage break when I zipped up and returned to my perch I was unsurprised to see that the stalemate continued.

Irlam came next, a cross saw the home keeper called into action and just doing enough to deny the blue clad Mitchell a free header.  Cheadle responded with a quite sumptuous passing sequence that had Irlam chasing shadows.  Daniels was the apical factor and the end shot deserved better than to land in the awaiting mitter's midriff.

Cheadle upped the ante and finished the first 45 well but were slack in parts and nearly caught with their conkers exposed. A few half chances and we were done, no goals, no great thrills, by ruddy crikey!

There was no movement from me for the break, I was a trifle fagged and so had a snack and watched the clouds roll by and prepared for half two.  The minutes whizzed by, the teams were soon back out, I must have fallen into some kind of reverie, I could easily have had a nap.

Irlam began period the second with great animation.   No 3 (Taylor McMahon) chased a ball, put in a delicious cross that the keeper did well to palm away.  The Town came back, No 9 (Oliver Ford) gained possession, battled away like a Jack Russell with a pork chop in its mouth.  A cross ensued, No 7 (Kaleb Parkinson) let go a first time shot - the ball refused to stay below the horizontal timber. Within the twitch of the said dog's rectum Irlam countered with a ball played into the box that saw 2 strikers indulge in a bout of indecision and let a golden chance slip by.

The game was looking to be the first 'bullet' I had witnessed in a long while, a point would be no good to either team and I still hoped one unit would find the killer touch.  More sorties forth, more quality free moments until a superb move from the hosts saw them move from the back to the front with a shot coming that the Irlam mittman made a hash of.  Somehow the gloved bugger managed to survive the scare and deny the hosts a real sweet team goal.

As hopes of a goal dwindled a long Irlam ball found Daniels who was left with only the keeper to beat.  The protector of the mesh advanced and committed the great sin, a penalty was given and as 15 (John J A Main) stepped up to take the spot kick his whole demeanor seemed to lack positivity as the keeper swung his arms around like a gibbon with a severe BO problem. I expected a save or a miss, the shot came, the keeper saved, No 11 (Takura Sambizi) followed up and a block was made.  The corner led to a screwball scramble and a free-kick.  The high delivery struck the crossbar, but still no goal.

The last gasps, Irlam put in a few more decent crosses, the end execution was lacking. The game finished in hectic fashion with both units looking to grab a winner.  A late free-kick saw Cheadle's McKnight fire at the keeper and that was indeed, that.

No goals, plenty on hard graft, on reflection no team deserved to win this and no team deserved to lose it.  Man of the Match, Irlams No 3 (Taylor McMahon), a talented chap with a good work rate and a nice touch.  He helped keep the opponents at bay whilst always making a solid contribution - maybe next time he will be on the winning side.

Off I ambled whilst chatting to another fine Irlam regular - it was agreed that this was a day when things were not good enough at all, I hope my gig would be a better form of entertainment - bring on the racket!

FINAL THOUGHTS - Irlam were pushing for a play-off spot, I think this day will come back to haunt them come season end.  They have the players, the quality and the energy, they just need to work on that clinical touch and when on top of a team make sure they make them pay.  I think next season, with a few tweaks and an injection of a little more belief, the team will be in the mix and putting the wind up many competitors.  Cheadle Town are a rugged unit that are still finding their feet in the premiership but who are certainly capable of holding their own with all and sundry.  At times they play some slick football, at others they totally confound the cranial senses and have one scratching the bonce in disbelief.  They have a good manager, many solid players, they are not far from being a real threat and becoming a major player in a real tough league.  Again, the apical areas need sharpening and work off the ball must be done with a 100% commitment at all times.  If the local water supply is laden with heavy duty angel dust and the players are threatened with a death penalty following a defeat I reckon the changes will come sooner rather than later.  I am contacting North West Water now and sending an email to the relatives of Albert Pierrepoint to see if they fancy any part-time work - needs must.

THE FAT BAG SINGS THE CHEADLE BLUES

14th December 2024 - Cheadle Town 1 v 1 Litherland Remyca - After a quick rise and swill, myself and my gem of a lady were out feeding the birds at Poynton Pool and of course, recording a few species and noting the odd fungus.  This may be regarded by the mush as crank behaviour, with the future of kids in peril I wonder what the verdict will be in a few years.  We go forth, we see, we appreciate reality and do our bit - and all without thought of show, sheen and flimsy shittery - punk DIY ethics held high - kaboom.  Soon after the walk we were in a fine eatery in Poynton, indulging in some quite excellent nosh that was rather pricey but worth it.  It was good to be the scruffiest bastard in town with the loveliest woman on my arm.  I bet I was the only one who pissed behind the church, noted 5 Redwings and a few lovely fungi.  

After a mooch in a few shops we headed to the footy where I was dropped off whilst the punky music blared from the car.  My missus headed home, she was off out with my daughter and her friend, a ruddy Panto was their choice of viewing, however the thought of kicking Widow Twanky in the twat and shoving Jack's beanstalk up his arse was very tempting.  I entered the ground, had a natter with the guy on the gate, this time about fishing.  I had recently seen a 33lb 6oz Pike and the fellow communicator was getting back into fishing - the jaw wagging content made sense.  Soon after my perch (see what I did there) was chosen, I was sipping coffee and scribbling notes regarding a game that unfolded like this:-

A lowly crowd had all eyes on the ball at 3pm as matters got underway on another mild winter's day (global warming, hold on tight folks).  Cheadle Town opened proceedings with a sanguine flourish that earned plenty of up-field possession that was only marred by one pass too many.  A corner was eventually earned, a high ball was posted, a header borne but a guest player had been nobbled - goal kick.  Cheadle Town came again, No 4 (Sean Moscrop) put in a solid dash, the cross that followed was a trifle too long.  The ball eventually was played back, No 10 (Daniel Byrnes) worked space and dug out a pop that was straight into the meat of the keeper's carcass.  No 7 (George Lewis) for the hosts helped maintain the early pressure with some good battling gusto.  A free-kick and a corner produced piss-all though - Remyca were holding firm.

More advances came via the way of the Town, little in the way of trouble was made for the travelling tribe although one header at goal should have brought the first goal I felt.  A drab period came, this allowed the Litherland lads to worm their way back into matters but all they could brandish as threat was a long shot from their No 11 (James Hammill) that was straight at the host No 1 (James Hodges). Cheadle began to reassert their presence but all the while, up-front creativity was blatantly lacking.  A corner for Cheadle came, entered the box that was a right old befuddling mush, full marks were given to the Remyca for standing their ground and remaining watertight.

The half progressed with tidy pace, a suggestion of ill-tempered spice crept in that the referee did well to subdue.  The main area of action was in the middle of the playing arena, the closest we came to a goal was when the home keeper nearly made a hash of a back pass but somehow managed to save his bacon and not put himself up for the 'Twat of the Weekend' award.  From here we saw one more Town advance with a corner coming after a great run by No 11 (Kaleb Parkinson). The ball entered the mush, a near post flick of impudent intent by No 6 (Matthew Smyth) saw the ball squeeze through a pack of pegs and nestle in the meshing - the game needed this and the half time break came soon after and left us set up nicely for period 2.

I stayed put for the break, on my lonesome in a lofted corner contemplating the skies and the sounds.  25 Starlings kept me company, chattering away in fluty tones whilst a Lesser Black Backed Gull flew over and a Wood Pigeon cut a dash through the air like it had a date with Deirdre the Dirty Dove - phwoar what a nasty vent she has.  

The teams eventually came back out and halted my cerebral roamings into avian porn. I was further distracted by an early CT corner that bore bugger all but set an early tempo.  After another fruitless angled humping a good build up followed with some quick, slick football culminating in a delivery by Parkinson and No 8 (Darren McKnight) sadly mis-controlling and letting the ball go dead - boo, that could have been a real peach of a moment. Town had their peckers up, several shots at the Remyca goal were blocked, a break came and the guest No 8 (Elliot Toner) let fly from range but failed to send the ball around the awaiting mesh protector.

The half progressed, again the main bulk of play was in the central area with both teams huffing and puffing but making little in the way of serious headway. The LR brigade were working up a noticeable lather and looking to get this game back to all square.  The quality touch was lacking but I had a feeling in my waters that an equaliser was on the cards.  From the treacle pudding of midfield mither I hoped a few feisty thrusts would add flavour afresh.  It seemed a forlorn hope as the game became a grind and grew quite stale. 

The hosts eventually won a corner, from the melee the ball was buried, it looked to be a game settler, the liner however had other ideas, he waved his flag like a stationmaster on whizz - ooh the rotter.  A rare LR corner followed (was this the first of the game) and was played to the near post where a flick header went inches wide.  If ever there was a warning for the leading team, this was it.  Suddenly, as Cheadle advanced the ball was lost, a pass found Hammill who beat his marker, sent in a low grass grazing shot and found the sought after bag of glory.  This goal had been coming, it was well deserved too.

The final splutterings were soon upon us, it was a hectic session of soccerised mania.  End to end fervour was borne, the key of composure was lacking.  Litherland Remyca advanced, Hammill had a first time dig, by heck it were ruddy close and one could almost see the home manager swoon in shock.  Another punt at the goal by the guests flew over soon after and then Cheadle summoned a surge with a sub supplying McKnight whose final touch was awful.

More flurries came, a few offside decisions, a couple of wayward shots and before we knew it, the referee had called for a finish.  The Man of the Match choice for me was a darn tricky affair,  There were several to consider but I reckon that Cheadle Town's No 2 (Matthew Cook) was worthy of a nod due to the sheer tenacious work-rate, an encompassing awareness and relentless eagerness to try and create.  Always good value this chap, he perhaps deserved to be on the winning side but the tits of fortune can be rather tough at times.

I wandered forth after the game into the darkened realms.  I put a spurt on and arrived home to witness my lasses getting ready to head to the panto - ooh the silly sods.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Well, 2 teams were on show today and both were spluttering along into the festive period with work to do.  The league positions were reflective of the plight of both teams with inconsistency a major facet of their seasons so far. Litherland must start games more quickly than this and make sure they play with a more sanguine and attacking focus with no fear of conceding but a great belief in scoring.  As for Cheadle Town, well they are still in the Premier League, still finding their feet and are very hit and miss that is for sure.  They have some good players, a few who just need to work a little harder and a fine manager who will look after all and stick to his values.  Sometimes, in fact a lot of times, a move is overcomplicated and a chance squandered whereas a more intrinsically basic pass, boot, wallop would pay greater dividends.  The team will be OK though, and like Litherland, they will nestle into the mid-table pack and have to rethink for next season.

RAMMED UP THE REAR (OOH HECK)

13th December 2024 - Prestwich Heys 0 v 5 Ramsbottom United - The fungus season is done, I am doing no more fungus walks, I am sticking to leading general nature walks.  Too many are hellbent on taking from a struggling natural world, fungi are trendy, I hate trends - awkward to the core.  I have led 501 walks and my target of 500 is done, I wanted to see and record 5000 species, this has been achieved, the good lady and myself wanted to visit 1000 places in the UK and record wildlife, we have done it. I also wanted to put on and promote 200 Nights of DIY noise - hey, done that too - fuck the fashion merchants. The next targets, to input 150,000 wildlife records, to review 2000 CD's, to do 500 Non-League match reports - I am fuckin' on it.  It is good to have targets as long as one is putting back - here is my latest effort dealing with some Friday night footy, Friday the 13th in fact, if I get a football in the knackers, they turn black and roll away into the misty evening, I will know the devil is not on my side.

After a long day at work, my good lady and my griping self headed out after a brief tea.  The run down to the ground was as smooth Kojak's posterior and we were soon in the ground, perched up and sipping coffee.  Predictions were for an away win, a big win at that and come full time, we were proven right but with neither of us bagging the bang on score.  Fix, fix, fix!

The round bag of wind was soon rolling, from a rather placid commencement a burst of liquid fluidity saw the guests advance with No 3 (Harvey Hayhurst) finalising matters with a punt from a slight angle.  The ball had good 'oomph' factor but was a trifle eager in its elevation and so flew over the horizontal timber - it was the first salting of promise and my pen was poised to scribble with greater fervour.  No 11 (Thomas Hoyle) was soon darting forth but the home No 1 (Louis Hood) was quick to react, halted matters but gave away a corner.  The ball from the angle was played long, No 4 (Andrew Teague) connected but an infringement was called and the dangled todge of excitement was duly tucked back in.  

Ramsbottom were already looking to be the superior outfit despite being in the embryonic stages of the game.  Movement, energy and general slickness gave suggestion that Prestwich Heys were in for a long night of bollock-bursting labour.  The guests were soon progressing again, a throw was flicked on, some weak defending allowed Hoyle to collect and slide the ball under the carcass of the keeper - I repeat - this was looking to be a long night for the resident pack.

For a temporary period the Heys lads gained some territorial advantage but the final balls into areas marked 'danger' were lacking in quality and were slightly rushed.  A free-kick came and a lengthy injury break.  The ball was posted, the header weak and then a forced substitution was made.  From the restart the Rammy No 2 (Oscar Radcliffe) found space, slammed in a low, hard cross and was mighty miffed that no players were there to poke the ball home.  Persistent Ramsbottom pressure followed (cripes that sounds like a real farmyard complaint) with the host defence all over the place and looking very disorganised.  A penalty was eventually won, No 10 (Harvey Whyte) took responsibility and thumped with purpose. The keeper dove the right way, the ball had too much wallop - 0 - 2 it was.

From here the guests pounced again, a slick move saw a free-kick awarded that No 6 (Maine Walder) whipped in with grass-cutting swerve that the mitter did well to save.  The corner that followed was bilge and a header from a high cross failed to add to the Heys woes.  Rammy were soon weaving forth again, No 9 (Rhys Turner) shrugged off several markers before crossing the ball which saw Hoyle guide home.  This was a game in danger of becoming a farce, I was hoping the hosts could dust down, take stock and get a grip. Alas another surge of blue came, a shot was deflected onto the bar, a follow-up blocked on the line and then a third crack at the onion bag was pinged off a defender for a corner.  2 corners ensued, the latter was punctuated by a shot from Radcliffe that was went into the mucky leaking sky.

Prestwich Heys were clutching at straws (broken straws at that) but somehow managed a sortie forth.  The cross had good pace but, as is the case when things are not going to plan, all noggins were missed and any chance went begging.  This moment was soon punished as the visitors put together a simplistic move which saw Hoyle bag an hat-trick and put the outcome of tonight's contest beyond doubt.

As the half wound down, Prestwich had a period of decent play with a free-kick, a header and then a shot by No 10 (Lewis Ayres) saved.  The team should have had a goal here - it just wasn't going to happen and so my pre-match prediction of 1-6 was looking in jeopardy.

The final dregs of period one came, Rammy continued to dictate the play when a hopeful push saw a ball whipped in and Hayhurst arrive to tap home and seal a good 45 minute stint.  The Heys had one last push, No 11 (Marcus Perry) supplied a decent cross but no takers were found and the half ended seconds later.

The rears were parked and we were in no mood to move.  Me and the good lady shared a choccy bar and pondered.  This was a spectacle that the home team could now use as a practice session so as to prepare for more important league fixtures.  If I was the Heys manager I would have sent my team out stark bollock naked with Christmas crackers on each player's todge.  The supporting fans may not get the right result but the entertainment would be high and pulling the crackers after the match would surely appeal to those of a more homo-erotic stance.  

Half two began, Christmas adornments were not to be seen although the bauble I had stuffed up my arse prior to the game still felt good.  The start to the second period was tame, Rammy had a pop from a cut back but no further penetration was had.  Prestwich Heys returned matters with a flourish of their own, a free-kick found No 3 (Louie Hutchinson) at the far post, the defending pack stood firm.  

The game from here dissolved into something of a dead-zone, little in the way of scribble-enthusing action came as a glutinous porridge was hit.  From the relative gloopy tedium the Heys had a pop that went over but, other than that, we had a paucity of excitement.  Eventually a flourish of Prestwich action came, a hat-trick of corners, several shots blocked and good general industry was shown but... no breakthrough had, such is this shitty footballing life.

The home No 10 (Lewis Ayres) sent a shot over soon after the pressure points were pressed and in return a Rammy's sub let fly from distance but the mitter was on it.  As the rain fell, matters folded in on themselves and a shabby half of football was brought to a close.  Prior to shifting the arse I chose Ramsbottom United's No 4 (Andrew Teague) for Man of the Match - what a concrete component who read the game well at all times and was utterly on it from start to finish.  

We headed home, the drizzle fell, the chill started to creep in - one half was enthralling, the other drab, we still enjoyed ourselves though.

FINAL THOUGHTS - These cup games are hard to judge at times and when one team is flying high in the league and the other is down in the doldrums it is hard to figure who is putting in the greatest commitment.  Priorities are what it is all about and Ramsbottom could go all the way in this one and could easily win the league.  A well-oiled machine but, a bad spell of weather, a few injuries and all chances of success could be lost - a case of watch yer steps chaps.  Nonetheless this is a very good side, watch their progress closely folks.  Prestwich Heys are up against the wall with their arses bared and the great Big Boy Buggery looking to shaft their season (and other parts) good and proper.  A tightening up in all areas, a bit of luck and some non-stop work will help but things are looking mighty dire and the drop looms.  I hope the team have an upswing in fortunes and I am sending good vibes, Fungal power and 22 arse corks just for good measure.  On we all go!

A SILVER STREAK SET FOR GOLD

23rd October 2024 - Irlam FC 5 v 0 Litherland Remyca - As a busy bastard with his genitals of productivity always spilling seeds it is ruddy difficult to impregnate each and every area of interest due to the lack of time and the aging private parts.  As I flit hither and tither and prod and poke at many passions, I find the weeks passing by, the head ending up as an eternal mush of befuddlement and the carcass struggling to keep up.  I am trying, as is my lovely lady, we operate in unison and do what we do, but how on earth had we left it so long for a return trip to one of our favored grounds? It beggars belief.

So, after a day working, an early evening exercising, recording some fungi and having a quick tea, we made the 30 minute trip to Silver Street whilst listening to a retro Fear on Four regarding a possessed woman cutting the heart out of her still living husband. I have spent 59 years immersed in horror - I ruddy love the escapism, the textual art of degenerate minds and the ghostly fantasy that keeps one... guessing.

We arrived in good time with goose-pimples aplenty and were greeted by three familiar bods in such a style that it only felt like 5 minutes since we were in attendance.  The natters and welcomes reminded me why Non-League is most precious with its greatest assets off the pitch, not on it.  With jaws wagged, and news that Warren Dodd's buttock hernia is still growing,  we took up our usual spots (with chips in hand) and watched the following game unfold.

The home team started with great earnest endeavor and more than a modicum of pace.  No 7 (Jack Mitchell) galloped and made room to pull the trigger, the shot was right into the keeper's awaiting limbs.  A corner soon followed, Mitchell was making a menace of himself again.  The ball that was posted was of a decent standard, the guests cleared but the pressure remained until an infringement pissed on the potential peril.

Litherland worked their arses off trying to get back into this but all they could muster was a rather tame shot from their huffing and puffing No 7 (Jordan Monthe).  A fortuitous corner was had but, from the ball in, a foul was borne and so we remained as per.

The guests continued to scamper around like mice in a cheese famine but Irlam were passing well and any squeaks at goal that the visitors were allowed were few and far between.  No 11 (James Hammill) had a low pop that was well-struck and heading for the bottom corner but the home No 1 (Jack Buckley) was down to save with relative ease.  Suddenly the blue clad Mitchell was away, a ball was swiftly played to No 2 (Joe Rothwell) who dug out a pop that sweetly glided into the top corner - what a golden strike indeed.

Litherland looked to respond, No 19 (whoever the fuck that was) had a crack but the ball was deflected over and from the corner a couple of extra shots were blocked by a very resolute defence.  A breakaway came, 2 more shots were blocked until No 9 (Declan Daniels) pounced on the loose ball like a testicle-loving pervert fly, the globe was duly knocked home - 2 - 0 - I considered the game, as a contest, to be almost over.

Hopeful punts from range were all that the Remyca chaps could muster.  Irlam came close again when No 11 (Takura Sambizi) from out wide, dinked inward, put in a cross that Daniels nutted from close in but couldn't find the target.  Soon after the marksman turned supplier for No 8 (Mason Everton) who swung the shank and sent the orb over.  The half wound down and it seemed one more goal from the hosts would surely settle the deal.  It came moments later when the quick and eye-catching (nothing sexual tha' knows) Sambizi received on the flank, nipped into a shooting position and twatted home the third of the night - it was a pearler and we were soon heading to the clubhouse for a coffee and wondering how the travelling tribe could turn this around.

The purchased brew warmed the cockles, we supped and caught up with the aforementioned Irlam secretary.  He was so impressed by the way his team were playing I could visibly see the posterior hernia throb in ecstasy - it was all a little too much if I am honest as I have always preferred these kind of bulges on a camel.  We cut the conversation short when Mr Dodd tried to sell us signed hernia pics - we are sober people and recognise the work of the devil when we see it.

Half-two, once again matters began with the home team making the running.  I was still slurping my coffee when a crack at goal came and the keeper was forced to drop like a bag of Maris Pipers and duly hold.  Within the gulp and glug of more bean-based liquid Irlam's Sambizi was negotiating several markers, entering the box and swinging the shank with purpose.  The ball was propelled forth to Daniels who remained calm and made the scoreline 4 goals to fuck all.

Sambizi had a shot of his own soon after, the ball had too much elevation and then followed a spat, a bit of nonsensical argybargy and a booking or two.  Litherland tried to mix matters up and add a touch of spice, it worked to some extent and they were unlucky not to bag a goal when a header from a corner just went over the horizontal timber.

Little more came to report although Irlam had a few more attempts that just failed to add some icing on an already satisfying cake.  Within a few moments of madness Litherland lost 2 players to red cards, it summed up the teams night and brought great joy to the more spiteful of home fans who sang away as the players left with heads down.

During the final gasps Irlam pushed on, and eventually it was No 15 (John J A Main) who neatly bagged a fifth goal and made sure this was a night to remember.  The referee called proceedings to a halt soon after, my Man of the Match choice went to Irlam's No 11 (Takura Sambizi), a quick footed talent who really put the willies up the travelling pack and I am sure sent home a few prematurely balding defenders too.  A good player and a good head down approach - keep it rolling man and make sure Irlam keep on rising.

Me and the missus buggered off happy with our return visit and with little traffic to negotiate - smashing.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Two teams looking to be a gulf apart but in truth, both units left me with little in the way of a true judgement.  I don't believe for one moment Litherland Remyca are as bad as they looked tonight and just reckoned they were caught on the hop here and were just lacking in pace in all areas.  This happens, I am sure they will pick up points here and there but discipline must be solid and they do need to play as a complete unit all over the park.  Irlam looked mighty slick tonight and really will be a threat to the upper echelons of the league table if they keep on with this style.  They are not going to get things so easy though and I did note that when the opposition added a bit of fire the Irlam pack didn't look as composed or as smooth running.  If they do keep their heads, do not get rattled and ride the lows to create many highs I wouldn't be surprised if they end up in a play off spot.  Prior to that happening though I can see a swelling getting bigger and a balding man being led away with an over-engorged arse area that will need some serious sexual therapy - Warren Dodd - take care my good fellow.

MAINELY GOOD STUFF

12th October 2024 - Maine Road FC 2 v 0 Euxton Villa - The lasses were off out shopping today, I was kissed goodbye and duly did the dishes and tidied the kitchen.  I could have washed my underpants and done the windows but I got sorted and went out on the bike.  8 miles down the road and I was in Chorlton's Costa Coffee sipping a brew and reading a comedic yarn about marriage, the hatred of lawyers and general tomfoolery.  Booked packed up, coffee swilled and legs turning the pedals again I ended up at Chorlton Park where I recorded some fungi, soaked up some splendid rays and gastronomically invested in a superb meal from the Tibetan Cafe - by heck it were grand, I was just hoping I wouldn't need a rectal replacement after passing out the over-indulgence.  The cycling had twanged my hernia, a prolapsed ring-piece would be the last thing I need.

After the scran and another quick pootle that saw me cut and bruise my thigh after walking into a gate (the language used was beyond the spectrum of blue) I headed forth and arrived at the footballing destination. A can of pop and chocolate was grabbed after paying my dues and then I headed for a sit down where I was soon joined by a fine footy mate, John D ('D' for deviant in case you are wondering).  Those of you who read these ramblings may remember that John was involved in selling sexual prosthetic limbs before it went bust. I was eager to see what John was now up to and unsurprised to find that he had moved into the world of Pornographic Jewellery.  The catalogue he passed my way was really well presented with Nipple Necklaces, Breast-Based Ear Muffs and Foreskin Bracelets not my thing but appreciated for the craftsmanship.  I may consider the Buttock-Skin Snood though, especially for those winter months - I just hope it comes with a zip-up anal fastener as a press stud option would look a little cheap - I shall have to await to see if there are any Christmas deals. 

And to the game, John went for a 2-3 score, I fancied 1-1 - this is what went on.  

As pen touched paper, a Fox nipped into the undergrowth and John donned his pubic-lined mittens. Euxton bounded forth with No 10 (Joel Darley) going on a weaving meander like a Salmon with an arse full of roe.  A pass came, No 11 (Vaughn Green) was the recipient, the end shot was weaker than Russell's Brands claims to be a Christian.  Euxton continued to force the pace and work with zealous industry.  From the advancing waves however, only No 7 (George Davies) had a headed pop at goal which was lacking in quality and so failed to bulge the netting.

Matters moved on, the guests continued to dictate the midfield areas whilst Maine Road still sought to find their studded tootsies. Eventually the hosts cultivated an attack with No 8 (Ben Mooney) feeding No 2 (Jake Pogson) who sent in a decent looking cross that just lacked that extra 'whip and bend' factor.  We were soon watching matters unfold up the other end as Davies was chasing a long ball and only denied by a quickly advancing keeper who did enough to snuff out any serious peril.

Green for Euxton was the next bod to chance the shank.  A short run, a punt at goal, the home No 1 (Oliver Brockbank) earned his bacon yet again (unless he was going for the veggie option) and got down and held onto  the ball with relative ease.  Euxton followed up this minor chance with some delicious football that resulted in two attempts being cleared off the goal line.  A free-kick soon followed, the ball went in, out, back in with No 2 (Jack Wyers-Roebuck) finalising matters with a cranial attempt off target.  No 9 (Dan Singleton) had a crack soon after, this one was all too easy for the fellow between the timber.

2 corners for Euxton bore the Fruit of the Fuck All Tree and I was left wondering how on earth the away team weren't leading this game.

Maine Road hung on, displayed resiliency and then were away.  No 10 (Alex Panter) went on a steaming sortie, the keeper was there to be beaten but a selfless pass found No 7 (Jean Jacques-Kirongozi) who stunned the visiting tribe and slapped home the opening goal of the contest. This came seconds after I said to my mate John that I wouldn't be surprised if the hosts bagged the first strike and threw this game upside down.  Maine Road won a free-kick next, the delivery was tidy but the keeper grabbed just in time to thwart the threat by several incoming assassins.  The game was now more balanced, both teams were offering threats.  As the minutes ticked by, and the half-time break loomed, the EV No 3 (Finnley Kent) went on a fine run with a low cross met by Davies who had a decent strike but was denied glory by the outstretched leg of the home mitter,  

The half ended with a booking, a shit free kick and much leg whirring and lather - it had been a decent do for sure.

The break saw me take a leak, eventually crack under John's pressure and see me order a pair of Scrotal Skin Ear-Muffs.  I was told they are all the rage in the backstreets of Blythe - I just hope they keep my lugs warm and don't attract those pesky Testicle Midgies.  I also did a video interview for 2 grand lads - I seem to be always getting roped into these things - hey ho, it is good to do one's bit.  The video can be viewed here - Manchester City IN NON LEAGUE?! (youtube.com) - top work I reckon.

Half two, the home tribe won a quick corner, the ball was delivered and up popped Mooney to double his side's advantage.  This was the perfect start and I was lucky to catch the goal as the aforementioned video duties nearly had me distracted.  Within a spasm of a springtail's rear the hosts came again, Panter quickly supplied Yousif Yousif with the goal there to be bagged.  The outcome - a miss (was this a turning point).

Euxton were now working hard, a free-kick was won and the ball was neatly delivered.  A player rose from the pack and the ball was buried, the goal looked good, a discrepancy was seen and 'no goal' was the verdict - I have no idea why!  The Road were quick to respond, No 17 (Gold Badmus) had a shot parried by the keeper and Kirongozi pounced but blazed over the horizontal.  Euxton strove to get back in to this one, several shots were blocked, corners snuffed out and a few duly wasted.  The away lads were playing some good football, No 6 (Cameron Ross) gathered from a back-heel with a whipping cross seeing the home No 4 (Adam Stuart) breathe a sigh of relief when his defending didn't result in an own goal.  Road were soon racing forward again, Badmus had a chance to kill the game, the keeper produced a quality drenched stop.  Kirongozi was there to follow-up, once again the lad lashed high into the Heavens.

From here on in matters settled with the greatest threat coming from the skies as a hailstorm eruption peppered the playing surface and those exposed.  During the last dregs we saw a few yellow cards issued, a late shot from the Road's Panter that lacked direction and a corner that was nothing less than abyssmal.

The whistle was blown, the Man of the Match for me was an easy choice with Maine Road's No 10 (Alex Panter) excellent value.  The work rate was sterling, the movement on and off the ball eye-catching and in truth, he deserved a couple of goals for his efforts.  Alas for winning the Fungalised MOM Award you get a rubber mushroom up yer arse and a one year subscription to Spore Dropping Shits UK - it is a tough world out there.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Well, a good day indeed, a good cycle, a few fungi recorded, a gutful of fine food, a cafe visit and then this touchline tickler that was a darn decent match for sure.  Euxton Villa were worthy of a few goals today, I am still baffled by the fact that they didn't bag a brace (at least).  They are a good organised unit with many strong players and an ethos that seems aimed at playing sound football.  I cannot see why they won't maintain their lofty position as long as they keep the squad they have and have a fair rub of the green throughout the campaign.  I have only visited their ground once, it was a tucked away delight - will I get back there this season - we shall see!  One ground I will be returning to is the home of Maine Road FC.  They are within peddling distance, are a favoured team I have watched for many a moon and at the moment, look to have a real choice squad that are working with a certain harmony.  The players look settled, have a sound on-field awareness and appear to be enjoying their football.  They are in a tough but somewhat unpredictable league, there is potential to put together a good run, there is potential to implode and fall apart at the soccerised seams, if you were a gambler where would you place your hard-earned dosh?