AND FROM THE GROT

29th August 2026 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 0 v 1 Eccleshall FC - The long hot summer that frazzled the senses has finally ended.  We need rain but after only a few days, it is a pain.  I have had a hat-trick of soakings this week, a couple were had whilst leading a tribe of kids on a wildlife pootle.  Today I had a walk with the lasses, it was hard work.  The head was aching, the legs fagged and the grey skies getting on my tits.  We did find a fungus that we hadn't seen before, namely the Dwarf Bovist (Bovista demoxantha), a little puffball that looked like many others although a lot fresher than my own personal puffing balls I can tell ya.  We also noted a patch of Collared Earthstars (Geastrum michelianum), marvellous things I never tire of seeing.

From here I was dropped off at home so my lasses could go shopping and have some precious time together.  I recorded some outstanding wildlife sightings, had my dinner and nailed the aforementioned Puffball with a bit of microscopy.  Time cracked on, I hopped on the bike, arrived at the ground and found my usual perch where I had a quick read of a book regarding that talented artist Édouard Manet, I wondered what kind of artistry I would see on the field today.  A chat with a few fine faces, I was joined by a gent I know who wanders around the peripheries of many a ground and certainly knows his music - he is grand company although when he confessed to having a fling with a Cleo Laine look-a-like I remained on my toes.  I certainly didn't want to dress up as Johnny Wankworth and make a day of it - ooh me sexual saxophone. 

The game was soon underway and the damn rain was still falling. As the title says, and from the grot came the opening throes with an early corner won for the Ecky boys.  No 7 (Solomon Ashworth) posted, No 8 (Essa Faburay) gathered and forced his way through the pack like an eager turd through a pair of clenched muscular buttocks (I must take more laxatives).  A good header down was the end result, one has to applaud the keeper for a good save so early in the game.

Nomads were rattled but won a couple of gratis bootings.  No real tit-tingling action came although a throw was cranially flicked on by No 9 (Harrison Riley) with the mittman needing to punch clear to quell further threat.  Up the opposite end of the pitch we went, a guest free-kick came, No 9 (Maxwell Chimenes) barged forth, the ball went loose and No 2 (Archie Elsdon) was there to seemingly bury.  Alas the shank that swung only made air contact as the ball bounced by into No Mans Land - ooh heck.  Soon after the visiting No 11 (Dylan Bath) had a hopeful pop from range but the keeper was behind it and normal service was resumed (cue fine UK Subs album).

A few more minor flourishes came when suddenly a Nomad's ball came forth and Riley was in a wonderland of space with only the mitter to beat.  A goal looked on the cards but, like the lady in the 'Cock Linnet Song' he dillied and dallied, lost his way with nowhere to roam and the chance went a begging.  It was a terrible waste, I am sure his invite to the 'Goal Getter's Gala' will be scrubbed - ooh Roy of the Rovers will be gutted, not to mention Nobby Nobson, a man soon to be reignited into textual action.

The hosts continued to apply pressure but were soon caught on the hop when Ecky broke, a ball was chipped through to Bath who, from a slight angle, guided the ball home and bagged the crucial opener.  Eccleshall now turned up the heat, pushed on and looked to build on the opening advantage.  No 10 (Morgan Russell) came mighty close after a free-kick saw the ball ping about, land at his feet whereupon a delicate touch to goal hit the timber.  The travelling Chimenes was an increasing menace and was unceremoniously held back on several occasions much to the disgruntlement of himself and his colleagues.  

Both teams stuck at it, verbals came in spittle soaked flourishes, the liner gave as good as he got and the closest we came to an additional penetration was when Riley connected from a corner but could only flick over.  No 11 (Daymeon Almeida) for the hosts pulled one wide, Riley had another dig that was saved and that was it for the first 45 minute spell.

The weather remained at level 'shite', the fellow I had been chatting with continued to tell of his musical interests and how he once indulged in a naked wrestling match with a buttered-up Gene Pitney.  Apparently the referee for this contest was a one-armed Vera Lynn impersonator whom danced to the theme of 'Tales of the Unexpected' between every round. An interesting yarn and when the relator of this anecdote offered me an LSD tab, all became clear (and a darn site more lurid and heavy ma' an).

Half two, as giant millipedes rose from the emerald baize, fanged butterflies fed on the local photographer's paps and the rain that fell turned to crystalised amber an early Nomads corner came with fine accuracy that the keeper did well to fist away.  A shot was immediately returned and saved - it seemed the half-time talk was taking immediate effect.

The Cheadle chaps came again, No 12 (Leo Knight) finalised a move with a blistering shot that boomed the upright and then, shortly after,  No 8 (Tanor Collins) put one wide and No 11 (Almeida) walloped one over.  No goal but the promise was high and the hosts were making a good fight of it for sure.  

The game from here broke down as regards fluidity, it stuttered and spluttered like Freddie 'Parrot-Faced' Davis on trial for crimes against comedy.  A few spiced tackles came, the referee was put further under the cosh and passions rose and desperation duly invaded. I was left with little to scribble so used my pen to vandalise the stand - nothing too outrageous just 'My Dad has a big nob' and 'George Gibbons steals grapes from the local greengrocers' - one has to keep things varied whilst cultivating doubt.

The final flings of a highly frazzled and fractured game came.  Minor occurrences dictated as both teams battled away and snuffed each other out.  Eccleshall nearly had a golden chance when Bath was sent forth but the home No 1 (Charlie Jones) was still alert and killed the threat.  At the other end a penalty shout was borne of the oxymoron of hopeless hope and soon after, that was that.  I considered the Man of the Match as I grabbed the bike, and pootled off. No 3 (Matthew Jones) for Eccleshall FC was given the nod due to an extremely focused stint that had the eyes on the ball, many a great tackle and interception made and an 'under pressure' second half survived due to a good footballing brain.  And homeward I headed.

FINAL THOUGHTS - A very gritty game with two teams well-balanced and both looking to really get their season rolling.  Eccleshall were tidy and I expect them to be in the end shake-up but I thought during the second half they didn't do enough to break the rising pressure and seemed a little off the pace - a lack of fitness or just one of those days?  I thought they were highly resilient at the back though and during the first 45 could have had a couple of extra goals and buried the game.  Today though, they showed they have the gift of winning ugly, it is a fine asset to have.  The Nomads are stuttering along, they are like a 100 watt lightbulb with a dodgy connection - lots of energy is used but the end glow radiated is minimal.  The workrate is admirable, but a cool head is needed, a certain unrushed but direct approach essential and yes, as per, the blessings of Lady Luck needed.  The campaign is ticking on, the pressure is rising, if things stay as they are the chairman, Mr Gibbons, may have to up his theiving antics from the greengrocers and open his own stall to fund the team - hold onto yer plums folks, I shall be back here on several occasions and shall relate what unfolds.

ALL POYNTS BAGGED

18th August 2026 - Denton Town 3 v 1 Poynton FC - I have done a trifle too much of late and so, after this report I am having a break.  The gigs are starting again, after a hectic insect season the fungi are starting to appear.  There be walks to lead and much mithering for this manic muddlehead to meddle with - and I need to get several theatre visits booked in as well.  I should have shied away from this match report but Denton Town deserve another nod, good folk running the club, a fine old place and hey, no other fucker seems to want to do these things. 

So a day at work, snowed under with another example of a service under pressure due to too many people, not enough dosh and time and a general social insanity that is pushing all to breaking point.  Home, wildlife ID's, tea and out.  We arrived in time to have a natter with the usual faces, grab a brew and waffle some more with some more familiar peeps from this Non-League realm.  Me and my wonderful lady were soon in position and ogling, I proceeded to scrawl notes and ended up with the following account.

On it and Poynton won a free-kick, No 3 (Dan Taylor) hoofed, the home No 5 (Dan Farrand) sent the globe away but No 10 (Sean O'Mara) was there to pounce although the first touch was too heavy ma'an.  The initial huffings were nip and tuck, Denton probed like a sexed up anal doctor, and Poynton hung on like a breast obsessed lesbian with a prize tit in her hand (I am on strange pills at the mo tha' knows).  The first real strike came when the guest No 8 (Josh Smith) popped one from range but the ball was gravity free and rose above the horizontal with a rising ambition to bring down a crow.

Denton put in some sharp work, won a corner from which the ball went in and out and No 9 (Mason McHale) sent a  low shot wide.  The same player put in some good work next and earned his side an 'on the house' booting.  The ball came, Farrand applied a touch, the end shot was again too lofted.  Poynton reacted and began to exert pressure.  A move saw 2 slick passes end up at the feet of O' Mara who sent forth a curling attempt for the top corner which initially looked promising but which wouldn't stay down.  Another shot too high, was the ball filled with helium or were the goals sinking into the ground? Either way, the ball needed weighting down.

Poynton were now making most of the running, No 11 (Thi-Reece Lenilan) had a couple of punts off target and then, from nowhere, Denton's Farrand played a lush long ball, No 4 (Matty Smith) gathered and set the sights but the end dig was straight into the guts of the stickman - it should have been better.  The visitors continued to dictate most of the play but the hosts stood firm and gradually wormed their way back in.  Eventually the team on the back foot gained balance, a free-kick was earned which Farrand walloped and the keeper saved,. The ball was hoofed away, another attack came with Farrand weaving and No 8 (Aaron Warmbold) scooping the end shot over the diving keeper - 1 - 0, perhaps against the grain but hey, this is the lottery of football.

The rest of the first half became a little fractious and rather splintered with a couple of wayward shots had.  I thought that would be it when the Denton No 10 (Finley Hampson) snaffled a ball and grabbed the second, I was amazed that the hosts were heading into the break two goals to the good and it could have been three when No 11 (Mikey Burke) fed McHale who was just denied by a quickly advancing mitter.  Crikey Poynton must have been gutted by this scoreline and the halftime talk was going to have to be something motivational to say the least.

We took a wander to the opposite side of the pitch for the break and shared a bit of choccy.  The air was still warm and if the truth be told, we both could have lain down and gone to sleep.  We have been busy for months on end and have a calendar loaded, I am the cause of most of this, a passionate cretin who tries to keep cerebral demons at bay by indulging in many things he adores and wants to help.  My missus is a saint, a perfect woman who holds me upright (and may I add 'my upright' - oops there's a ticking off) and my daughter is a perfect member of society who frowns, tells me to behave and just 'tuts' away.  Note to self - calm down and keep the erection tucked away.

Half two, after chatting to Rob Nicholson who had been caught taking pictures of players in their underwear (terrible but some people have strange needs) the game cracked on in diminishing light.  A free-kick for Poynton saw the ball played and No 5 (Jamie Wreach) put a nutted effort way off the mark.  Again the guests came, a corner missed all bonces, another corner was fisted away and a further delivery from the opposite angle was knuckled clear.  The last thump out though was immediately put back into the perilous zone and No 12 (Sam Morris) put belfry on the globe and bagged a goal.  Now then, now then - what have we here - fuck, the ghost of Jimmy Saville is attempting a commentary take over - watch yer arses folks.

This was now a tight contest with great mania and headless rushing taking over.  A composed head and some good vision were now needed in these darkening climes.

Denton won a free-kick, Burke posted, the aerial dominance of Farrand came to the fore and the sphere was propelled home with good force via the connecting noggin.  3 - 1 - was my pre-match prediction - my betting slip was clutched in my sweaty palm and I was hoping the local turf accountant, namely Norman Nagnobber, was sweating all over too. 

Poynton now played with a renewed urgency and great desire.  Denton nearly committed suicide at the rear but the guest No 8 (Josh Smith) could only fire wide.  That was a let off for sure and as the sable night crept in, players became silhouettes and the last 10 minutes came, it was all looking a little hopeless for the team who had started the game so well.  A shot from the abyss came, the keeper punched, at this stage I couldn't see who the fuck the striker was.  Denton had a corner that was snuffed out, more action and hollering came, we needed the eyes of a pit pony to see what was going on and if they were duly granted I would order a nob from the same beast too (ooh Donkey Dick Dave, not there's a career).  Eventually I heard a peeping of a whistle from the murk, my prediction had been bagged and we felt our way homeward happy with another good game had.  Man of the Match, well, I don't normally go for the same player twice in a row but I thought Denton Town's No 5 (Adam Farrand) was tip-top again and gets the nod once more.  A stout performance, a goal and just all-dominant in the airspace at the back. I hope people don't think this repeat selection is anything sexual, I would hate to be appearing in the same courtroom as the aforementioned Nicholson with his charge of selling lewd Non-League snaps.

FINAL THOUGHTS -  And what of Poynton FC I hear ye ask.  My first viewing this season and on the plus side I feel that the team have pace, some tricky-dicky players and pass with good speed and accuracy at times.  For me, I think they rush matters a little too much, need to make sure they pick the players in space and sometimes just dwell on the ball and consider the attacking options.  Controlling the pace of a game is a key to success and I feel tonight they were harried and hurried and lost the core of composure.  They will do OK this season though, surely a top 6 finish at least.  Denton Town are a tidy all round team, gradually work themselves into a game and are a hard puzzle to solve for opposing forces.  One thing they must stop doing though is starting slowly.  One or two games may be lost before the first half is over if they are not careful.  If they start as they finish each and every game I reckon a top 3 finish is on the cards.  Mind you, if the judges dealing with Mr Nicholson's forthcoming court appearance are fans of rival teams we, and the guilty man, may be watching this team lose all hope with a point deduction and a heavy fine - if only the click-happy chappie would have worn a disguise!  Oh I can hear the players now - 'Oi Billy Bremner - stop looking at me nob'!

THE LION'S SHARED

17th August 2026 - Maine Road 2 v 2 Flixton FC - A roaming start to the season as per and my first visit to a favoured ground for a competitive match.  The day had been spent cycling to Chorlton Water Park where I recorded some birds, galls, flowers, a few insects and the odd extra.  I had a couple of coffees whilst out and cycled home before doing a spot of painting and catching up with outstanding fungi records.  I am, as per, behind on all fronts, I have 3 matches this week, 2 walks to lead and a gig to sort plus a few CD reviews to catch up on and 200+ wildlife records to input.  This on top of work means I am a busy bugger, it is how it is and how it will always be.

So, we arrived at the ground, the retailer of warming beverages was absent without leave so we made do with the liquids we had and found a perching spot. All ready and raring to go, predictions made, here is what went on.

Ball rotating and from the off Flixton were soon awarded a corner hoofing with the follow-on header too easy for the keeper.  Maine Road perked up and passed the ball with pace and tried to force the issue but it was Flixton who won another gratis hoofing, this time in the form of a free-kick. The ball came, the keeper punched away and soon after it was the hosts who were galloping forth with No 2 (Jack Pearce) putting in a cross that was dealt with and then No 10 (Lewis Royle) having a firm pop the mitter did well to save.  This was a very promising start by the hosts!

A few half attempts came, and then No 2 (Henry Brown) for Flicky raced away as though his chestnuts had been dipped in a chilli laden madras.  A threat looked to be on the cards but the home No 8 (Prindi Kimputu) put in a quite excellent tackle that killed all threat. Up the other end we went, No 11 (Siraj Hussein) displayed mercurial tootsies, played the ball only to see two comrades get in a mix-up and the chance go begging.  After a booking for the guests, Road advanced once more with No 7 (Mamudu Touray Touray) providing a long cross that Hussein walloped first time.  The shot was closer to taking the skin off a local residents rice-pudding than hitting the goal but the thinking  behind the attempt was correct methinks.

From here we saw two teams work well and make for a match with few real chances.  No 10 (Joshua Wood) for the guests swung the peg and produced a shot that was way over and then, mere ticklings later, the resident ranks broke, a ball was threaded from the advancing pack and the racing No 9 (Lewis McGill) was quick enough to provided a firm toe poke that snuck by the keeper.  It was a fine rapier assault and a tidy finish and, may one add, a ruddy well deserved lead had.  From the kick off it was only a matter of protecting the lead until half-time and to re-compose.  Alas a push and a counter was created, the Flixton No 11 (Cian Donohue) was at the apex of a no-nonsense advance and grabbed the equaliser with a low and very accurate shot.  How many times throughout the history of the game have we witnessed these rapid counterpunches?

2 corners for Flixton came and were dealt with, and the home lads had one break with Kimputu firing straight at the keeper and that was that.  An absorbing first half with nothing between the teams and leaving part 2 up for grabs.

No movement was had for the break, we had a cuddle and a bit of chocolate, the nights were drawing in for sure and I contemplated a time when I was sat here with my mate STP Stu (RIP) freezing our knackers off watching the hosts struggle like buggery on a very testing night. By heck, it seemed like only yesterday.

And segment 2 of the nights action, Road were immediately building and  put a cross into the danger zone which merely resulted in an air-kick.  Road came again, No 6 (Ashley Cata) played a glorious ball, Hussein was away but seemed to have an attack of indecisiveness and only a corner was had which, was dealt with - this situation should have been so much more.

The Lions prowled next, a corner came with No 4 (Jeffry Edos Oni) heading toward goal, a block ensuing, the same player with a shot that was blocked and somehow the globe was cleared.  Donohue was soon the possessor of the ball, the eye spied a chance to let fly from range and the rounded object was soon to be seen leaving foot, passing the keepers outstretched arm and nestling in the bottom corner of the net.  What a sweet finish!  Soon after though the leading team nearly bagged another with some  rear end dilly-dallying on the ball allowing No 7 (Collins Kagame) to fire at goal - thankfully the keeper was there to save his sides arses.

The heavens now opened, many purist al fresco viewers came under cover, a couple of gents I know from this footballing malarky came and nattered. One gent, who is keen to wander the perimeter of pitches whilst the game is underway, and duly chat to all and sundry was recovering from last years campaign and with the help of strong barbituates, heavy hypnotism and a study of Tway Fuzzby's Positive Thinking Football Guide he was looking like a new man and raring to go.  Note must be made that the aforementioned Mr Fuzzby is a conman extraordinaire and has only played football for the now defunct Rectal Rovers - a team that played in crotchless shorts and flesh coloured shirts with nipple openings.  It was a brainwave of Mr Fuzzby's that was aimed at all deviants of the ball hoofing game - it didn't work, several players were bummed following every victory and the pictures of the 'after game celebrations' that were leaked to the press duly contributed to the folding of the club.  The book that this fellow had been using as a motivational tool however is a good read and the chapter on 'Corner Flag Porn' is enlightening to say the least. And so...

...back to the game and Flixton seemed intent on burying matters and were working up a right old lather trying to get this one finished.  The Road were busy and doing mighty well to make for a fractured period of play thus allowing them to be still in the running.  2 shots came and were blocked, and then a  long MR ball was knocked out wide, delivered and shot to goal but the save was more than adequate.  Flixton came back with a free kick that was nutted over by No 9 (Lewis Simon-Byrne) - this contest was far from over it seemed.  In return the home lads won a bonus booting of their own which McGill stepped up to take.  I expected a post into the box but the player had other ideas and struck a pearler that went straight into the the onion bag.  What a strike and what a way to level matters!

Into the gaspings we went, this was a lottery now, any team could grab this or throw it away - who dares, who cares - is this a game of shares.  Road again, No 17 was on it and was ready to bang the ball home.  The shot was decent, the save better, and then Touray Touray had a crack with the guest No 1 (Cameron Mason) producing the goods yet again.  A few minor scares came each way, the time quickly sped by and before we knew it the game was up and my missus had bagged her second prediction of the season.  

The rain fell as we left the ground, it felt ruddy glorious and this has been a fair contest.  Man of the match for me goes to Flixton's No 4 (Jeffry Edos Oni) - a commanding and quite reliable force in the rear ranks with a composure that will help the team throughout the campaign and a willingness to always seek an attacking opportunity albeit via a dash forth or a long ball.  

FINAL THOUGHTS - Flixton FC came, were pre-match favourites and with the word on the street that good investment is being made, I expected a win.  They started slowly, stuttered throughout and didn't seem comfortable with Maine Road's eager beaver, hustle and harry approach.  They have several notable players though and, despite playing a side with great hunger, they managed to bag a draw.  Is the 1 point good enough though?  I think this lot have big plans but I have seen many teams with these ambitions and realise these North West Counties Leagues are ruddy tough indeed. Prior to the beginning if the season they were my promotion faves, I am not so sure now but they will be up there.  Maine Road had a rotten old time of it last year, this year have had the odd blip but tonight showed that they are more than capable of being competitive at this level.  They worked hard, passed with pace and precision and if a little more brutal and forthright upfront (and of course, determined not to receive a suckerpunch) this could have been some victory.  There is work to do, but there is great promise too.  A certain Mr Fuzzby has also written a training manual - could this be the key to success or a rocky road to many sore arses?  Either way I reckon a mid-table end of season place is on the cards.

RIDERS OF THE STORM

11th August 2026 - Denton Town 2 v 1 Broadheath Central - The day had been spent at work after a ruddy hectic weekend.  I could have fallen asleep at the desk if the truth be told - it was too hot and I was very demotivated.  The tick-box world rattles on, people waffling on, creating huge clouds of hot air and all the while heading 'nowhere'.  Scorched Earth Society - this is what we seem to want, this is what we'll get - bah them there fuckers!  

 

Cycling home was sweaty and hard going but a bloke was fishing on the local river and my timing was spot on as I saw him bring from the depths a quite magnificent Brown Trout.  He was overjoyed, asked me to use his phone and take a picture - it reminded me yet again how the simple things in life are the best.  I left the guy after he gently returned the fish to weave its way through the liquid, I noted a Red Admiral further along and then got the head down and raced home.  Once home I sorted the moth trap and released the scale-winged gems after recording all, the best of the bunch I thought was a Rosy Rustic, the first of the year too.  A natter, a read, a tidy and myself and my good lady got ready, set out and arrived at the ground for tonight's footy in good time. The usual fine folk were there, we had the odd natter and picked a viewing spot where we sat down and had a rest.  In truth I could have dozed off, what an old wanker.  Prior to the game I asked local Denton stalwart Rob Nicholson to get me pictures of the teamsheets and was duly bombarded with scrotal close-ups and vile information regarding testicle rashes and pubic lice - why do I fuckin' bother!  Thankfully I asked George Shaw (a fine Denton doofer) to get me a backup list which I duly received after the game with several glamour shots of the local Bin-Man modelling crew - who knew that the council insisted that all refuse collectors wear anally open shorts in this heat - fascinating.  Note must be had that the aforementioned Rob Nicholson did send teamsheets my way too - they seemed to be covered in chip fat and tomato sauce - I dread to think!

 

And to the game, the good early possession came via the guests with some sharp passing and good movement keeping the Town on the back foot and not allowing them to settle. No 3 (Archie Rowlands) made the first major advancement with some flank flashing ending in a really jittery moment for the hosts.  Broadheath came on again, No 6 (Dylan Kelly) put in a choice shot that went across goal with No 7 (Shack Depeiaza) mere millimetres away from burying.  Denton looked to cultivate some hope, the best they could summon was a cross that was headed by their No 8 (Theo Harwood) but power and real direction were lacking. 

 

The home lads seemed a little flat during the opening gambits with most 50/50 balls lost.  Eventually though the game became more balanced but it was the visitors who had the next punt at goal.  A careful attack saw Denton dither, No 9 (Ben Mensah) found himself in possession and finding a little room to fire forth a dandelion decapitator.  The ball had pace and was on target but the home No 1 (Ethan Handley) was down quickly and made a quite choice one handed save.  The corner bore no fruit!  Denton needed to get to grips with the gonads of the game as soon as possible and this they did with a sweeping move that resulted in an angled gift.  The ball was played in, a bonce connected and No 5 (Adam Farrand) walloped over the bar.  Close but no cookies this time.

 

A few close shaves ensued, the Denton keeper nearly committed a blooper when kicking straight onto the cranium of the opposing No 10 (Josh Harper).  Thankfully the ball went dead.  Denton had a break soon after with a ruddy good delivery let down by the absence of end marksmen - this was a goalless affair so far but I thought it was a fascinating contest.  Both units were trying to play good football, the defensive set-ups of both teams were solid throughout and if ever a game looked to be heading for a goal free- grinder this was it. 

 

The half was winding down, Denton's No 7 (Finley Hampson) worked well, won a ball, put in a delivery that hit the bonce of No 11 (Tyreel Henry) and pinged off at a tangent that surely signified a noggin with many lumps, bumps and obscure angles.  By crikey I am sure the Frankenstein monster could have made a better attempt on goal.  From here great endeavour came, the onion bags were left un-bulged.

 

Half-time and we sprawled and nearly dozed off.  I was mighty pleased with the game thus far and stated this to a local ball-gatherer who had been on a ten-pin bowling bender.  He was walking rather oddly and put it down to too much running, alas my warped brain put it down to the use of rectal ten-pins and the abuse thereof - I must increase the medication.

 

Period two began, Denton's Hampson flew away, shot and forced the keeper to save.  Denton again, No 10 (Harvey Fitzsimmons) to Hampson back to Fitzsimmons - shot over - now this was promising stuff.  We now had a chat to another fine gent who does more than his bit for Denton, namely James Pelosi esq.  A good guy this and always nice to chat to.  It was a shame Mr Pelosi was annoyed by the English netting and stated that he would have preferred a more Scottish theme.  I suggested maybe a silhouette of Andy Stewart with his kilt raised and glorious globes dangling.  Jimmy said this may put off the more kinked attackers when facing goal and result in a paucity of goals - I thought it was a point well made.

 

Broadheath Central tried to make some headway, Denton are assured masters in the art of resistance.  The guests' cause wasn't helped by a refusal to pull the trigger when having a sneak sighting at goal.  Denton came on, handball shout was waved away and the ball forced back.  No 6 (Euan Melia) collected, had a look and swung the leg.  The ball headed to goal with good impetus and a slow rise, the keeper was a little late in reacting and allowed the ball to pass by and bulge the inside of the netting - 1 - 0 - now matters were a trifle more intriguing.

 

Broadheath looked mighty rattled here, the fluidity of their play was getting impeded, Denton had their tails up. No 14 (Andrew Kwao) raced away, a cross came and Hampson had his shot deflected.  No 12 (Harry Payne) was waiting to pick up the pieces, 2 - 0  it was. This was a bigger transformation than the one that saw Dr Henry Jekyll mix up his chemical compounds with an hormone drink and end up as Hilda Hyde. She was a right nasty bint too!

 

From here we had one team gasping for a break, the other taking care not to give a ray of hope.  The BHC No 2 (Archie Rowlans) had a pop from range that the gloved one did well to tip over.  A corner followed, was dealt with and a repeat came with the ball choicely put in from the other angle,  No 8 (Harwood) eventually found possession, from mid-range the goal was spied and a first rate strike of majestic quality was had - what a great way to pull a goal back and put the end result up in the air.

 

Time was of the essence, Broadheath pushed forth, a ball in, No 9 (Emmett Davin) chested down, No 16 (Callum Issitt) executed a firm strike and the home stick protector saved well with the ball hitting the bar.  Substitutions came, some shabby balls were played by both units who were now looking more than a little jaded and Issitt for Broadheath continued to show promise with one effort at goal just coming to late and another just flying too high.

 

A feverish finish, the visiting No 6 (Dylan Kelly) let fly but the mittman was right behind it and then as the light faded, and the referee prepared to call a halt to matters, a few half glimpses of goal came for the guests but were a million miles away from bearing fruit.  Game done, Man of the Match was a simple choice, Denton Town's No 5 (Adam Farrand) led from the back, kept his fellow teammates encouraged (and occasionally roasted) and was an aerial general par excellence, snuffing out any chance of Broadheath Central high ball glory.

 

We ambled off, saw Rob N coming back from a chippy visit and duly understood why he wears a girdle.  

 

FINAL THOUGHTS - Well, I thought this was a real absorbing game, the first half being an aficionados chess match with both teams probing and looking to check the opposition whereas the second half was a more liberal affair with more space on the playing area and all pieces of the game allowed room to manoeuvre.  Broadheath Central are a good unit and easy on the eye.  I like their style, they have some good thinking going on and I reckon, if they continue to play this style, have belief and a rub of the green (or dirty yellow in these arid conditions)  they will more than hold their own.  Denton Town are now the tough nut to crack, they are the buttocks of the Cheshire league that are difficult to part and teams up against this lot may have to bring their sexual shoe-horns to prise out a victory.  Defensively sound, they resist pressure well and are willing to gallop with many threats looming throughout a game. Surely this lot must be in the mix come season end.  In fact I wouldn't be surprised if these 2 finished side by side on the same points and the next time they meet up will be another compelling battle.  

MANY FINISHING WORS FOR WEAR

9th August 2026 - Worsborough Bridge 0 v 2 Trafford FC - Back over to Barnsley we headed after last weeks jaunt to Old Moor RSPB and then Wombwell Town FC.  We used to frequent this place quite a bit and watched bands at The Arches and Panama Joes. Many a fine punky unit played there with the X-Rippers usually up and at it too. Grand times for sure. Gareth and Sandra whom we know from many a touchline jaunt joined us last week and again were keen to have a wildlife wander and a footy fix.  Grand company, crazy weather as per and a good walk was had.  We clocked up 140 species with a brace of Narrow-Necked Grain Beetles (Anthicus floralis) new for us and helping towards the 180, 000 records submitted mark, a total I hope makes a difference.  It is all about walking with the senses alert, seeing, sharing and enjoying and most importantly, recording all.  A coffee was enjoyed, the time flashed and before we knew it we were in the local ground, perched in the shade and awaiting the teams for this FA Cup Extra Preliminary Round.  The ground looked parched, the slight slope perhaps liable to make for some capricious moments and all 4 of us were hoping for a game of great endeavour and of course, quality.  3pm came, the crowd was decent enough, and away we go (again).

Trafford were quickly out and at it with a ball out wide gathered by the pace-riddled No 3 (Lewis Jacklin).  A cross came, was pushed behind, the corner was decent with No 5 (Harry Norris) making cranial contact and a follow-on header going wide.  Worsborough broke next, No 10 (Smith) was on it, cut in and walloped.  The keeper made sure his hands were strong and the ball went behind with the angled offering easily dealt with.  This was a lively start, a proper good cup contest seemed on the cards.

On we went, Norris for Trafford punted forth a delectable long ball that No 9 (Ryan Brooke) gratefully gathered.  A nip inside, a shot well hit and equally well saved with Jacklin's follow up header wide - that should have been the first goal.  Both teams continued to operate well, all that was lacking was that killer thru-ball with many attempts quickly read and dealt with.  Trafford were soon roaming forth with purpose. No 10 (Luke Sephton) was hassling and  passing and put Jacklin in a position to bury.  The ball however bobbled slightly on the uneven surface and the chance was missed. Worsborough seemed to be piqued into action by this scare and after much mither and muscle won a free-boot.  The ball was lofted into the box, No 7 (Grist) was at the back post and put in a header that went up and down with the bar struck.  Play was then stopped as we had a man down.  

From the restart and amid much flurry and hurry, Trafford won a gratis kick which was sent away with all players ball watching and allowing No 4 (Scott Sephton) to saunter up at the back post and fire home with middling power.  This goal had been coming and Worsborough were in need of a quick counter for sure.  Alas the hosts were guilty of playing too many long balls and making things a trifle obvious.  Trafford continued to work well in the rear which was not helping the home lads make any serious inroads.  

A smattering of argy-bargy came, a yellow card for a player from each team was given and despite some hard work, attempts at a killer ball and much running, any further sightings of goal were minimal.  Worsborough had a weak penalty shout, Trafford showed the greater promise and their No 11 (Bile Ahmed) was a real menace for sure.  Half done, not a bad do at all.

Our friends needed a stretch, we stayed put and watched folk ogle their phones.  These devices are now almost part of the human anatomy and I am sure if they were taken away some people would fall apart and die.  One day the crash of the systems will come, perhaps before then though people will be so digitalised their privates will be pixelated and their offspring will be borne with wires hanging out of the ears and the arseholes will be shaped so as to receive recharge cables.  I am baffled, mentally buggered but by heck, digging the heels in.  

The second half began with an early Trafford corner which the keeper easily dealt with and almost immediately we saw a flourish from the hosts with No 9 (Marvin) providing for Gris who entered the box with time to pick out a wannabe striker. Alas only a corner was won which turned out to be a cracking delivery that Grist made meaty cranial contact with only to batter the underside of the bar.  Panic briefly reared its capricious head but the ball was cleared and Trafford could regroup.  Instantaneously No 14 (Squires) for the hosts came on, a shot followed with a handball shout waved away.  

Corners and weak efforts came at both ends of the pitch, several subs came for both teams and the odd free-kick was awarded with quality nowhere to be seen.  Trafford won a corner after some splendid work by one of the new bods.  Alas the delivery was decent but no real threat ensued.  This was a game in the balance and it needed a real kick up the arse.  Trafford were soon coming again, a choice cross and Brooke put in a fair header but the keeper answered all questions and saved.  Up the other end we immediately went with Grist finalising matters with a volley dragged wide - things were getting rather rushed.  Worsborough pushed again and were caught on the break with No 14 (Dillon Edmundson)  away, into the danger zone and having a quick look before indulging in a punt that clattered the crossbar.  Trafford came on, a free kick was sent in with S. Sephton volleying wide - the next goal looked on the cards!

More shots and shouts, handball claims and near misses but no more strikes.  I was thinking that this would be it when Trafford earned a free-kick, the ball was kicked and No 5 (Harry Norris) rose, put head on ball, a defensive touch came but the goal was had.  0 - 2 - I reckon that was the game done and dusted for sure.

The game fizzled out, Trafford had a couple of chances that looked harder to miss than score but somehow the goal went untroubled.  Edmundson had a good shot saved well and just before the end, a coming together saw the home No 7 sent for an early date with the flannel and lux flakes.  The referee blew soon after, the win was going the right way and for me, Man of the Match must be Trafford FC's solid and reliable No 5 (Harry Norris).  He helped keep his team watertight, defended like a mature trooper in the ranks and read the game with an erudite vision.  A concrete shift that indicates a crucial role for the season ahead and a goal too - nifty!

We left the ground, somehow lost our friends and managed to add a couple of extra species to the day's tally, courtesy of the country park's car park.  Not a bad day all round, although we were a trifle knackered now, heat blown and sporting some sore arses after the ribbed seating in the stands had taken its toll - I felt like the discarded lover of Bob O Duffelbag the great Barnsley love-machine.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Despite the rippled buttocks and another full day of heat that was now reducing my conkers to the size of peas (Petit Pois at that) this was another good outing rounded off at a decent ground with 2 teams striving to play some decent football.  The pitch was unforgiving, the game more balanced than the final scorecard suggests and I think both teams will more than hold their own in their respective leagues.  Worsborough have a good set up here, seem well supported and play a game that is fluid, thoughtful and of a good standard - the only gyp - stay calm, and do not rely on a single option - variety is the spice of the footballing life.  Trafford FC looked a darn fine prospect today and I reckon. on their day, can give any team at this level a run for their money.  I think they have many qualities all over the pitch and reckon they will dish out a few healthy wallopings over the course of the season.  They are in a tough league though and will need 100% focus and commitment throughout each and every game.  For now though they are through to the next round of the cup, I wonder if time will allow and we can follow their run - here's hoping!  I must get my reared ironed out first though and see if the local bicycle shop will pump up my balls back to normal size (or maybe a little bit bigger as a treat for the missus - oh sweaty billiard balls, no thanks).