A 'DAB'BLE BEYOND

12^th September 2026 - Nantwich Town 2 v 3 Wellingborough Town - The Gods of Time and the Commanders of the Calendar have conspired to create a befuddling period of hecticness and therefore this is the last match I can attend for a couple of weeks.  The fungi, leading walks, work, catching up with CD reviews, writing the latest books, recording wildlife and striving to clear a backlog are some of the reasons that the diary is rammed - thank goodness I turned down the invite to join the local Nude Snooker Club - my pink tipped cue is flagging and certainly not up to a good 'chalking' and 'Screw Shot' buggery.  

And after a morn at Brereton Heath where we saw a small collection of fungi, a trip to a tucked away bookshop where several purchases were made and then a coffee and a walk around Barony Park where a few more fungi were noted, we arrived at the ground in good time and stood in a small queue.  As it transpired, the line of folks were a bunch of Swedish guys over in this part of the world for a conference.  A chat was had, one grand chap said that 2 of the party were missing and would we like their spaces as guests - we accepted and entered the ground on a bonus freebie - thank you so much fella - what a lovely thing to do. We duly purchased a brew and chips and found a lofty perch that gave great views of the pitch.   I was hoping that prior to a mini-break I would get a goal-feast and a fair game, as it transpired this is what I got:- 

From the off an early free-kick came for the hosts after the No 9 (Luke Enright) was tumbled and the ball went dead.  No 10 (Josh Hancock) posted, No 8 (Callum Saunders) rose and made cranial contact but the ball was way off the mark.  A corner soon came for the guests after some nifty work by the No 7 (George Ball).  Alas the post into the box was rather piss and equally poor and any chance of a goal was not to be had.  From here the hosts had a good bout of pressure but a lack of vision and creativity brought little to get aroused by.

Wellingborough resisted the flow, cultivated a move with No 8 (Nathan Hicks) finalising matters with a booting from an acute angle that went wide but earned a corner.  In the ball came, a header and a shot were both blocked as Nantwich bumbled by and came on.  Enright put in a sweet floating cross, Hancock connected with the crust but the ball lacked direction and went straight into the mitter's awaiting upper limbs.  

The game now levelled out, for me the hosts were just shading things but of course this matters not one jot if the scoreline reflects an 'all-square' situation.  The home lads came again and tried to add to their slight advantage with Hancock laying the ball on a plate for No 2 (A J Kandeke) who didn't pull the trigger at the first time of asking and when he did let fly he was rather wayward in his attempt.  Enright of the same team was soon having a pop at goal, the end result was akin to a fat idler who had not done any exercise for many a year - weak and wide sir, weak and wide.

The half rattled on, Nantwich were nearly caught snoozing when the visiting No 3 (Sam Warburton) threw in a ball to No 10 (Danny Draper) who let one fly that just whizzed over the horizontal timber - that would have been a shocker.  Wellingborough built now on this potential, No 5 (Jack O' Connor) had a header straight at the keeper and then the same team won a free-kick deep in their own half.  A couple of passes followed the bonus booting, No 11 (Kai Fifield) fed Draper who made space, delivered a firm shot and whoosh, the first goal of the game was bagged - it was a fine strike if the truth be told.

The final splutterings saw semi-glimpses at goal for both teams with no players grabbing the gonads of opportunity and wanking out any prize pips.  At the death of the first 45 a free-kick for the hosts found the nut of No 6 (Paddy Kennedy) whose header struck the crossbar and that was that - we were heading into the break with the travelling team 1 goal to the good.

Movement was minimal for the break, it had been a long day and we were seizing up.  A stretch, a ponder of other results, a chocolate fix and a laze - ooh these busy bods need a rest.

Half two and Nantwich came out with a real spring in the step with the ball pinged one way, then the other before Kandeke was in possession out wide.  A cross was put in, was there a deflection, either way the ball somehow ended up in the back of the net?  I may have misread matters here and the claimant of the goal may have this down as a peach of a strike - ah the world of fantasy is a strange realm.

This was an electric shocker to the visiting lads and they now looked to make haste and get back the lead.  Some progressive advances were made, the Dabbing chaps stood proud.  A corner eventually came, the ball was lofted high and the home keeper hollered.  The defending pack had an attack of 'frozen body syndrome' and Doughboy O' Connor pounced and bumbled the ball homeward.  

The overall temperament of the game rose, Nantwich were in the position of needing to score but also needing to make sure they stayed impenetrable at the back.  Wellingborough, to their credit, were not sitting on the lead and were seen to be keen to get another and bury this one for good.  The guests were having the bulk of possession and Nanthwich were having to put in a robust hustle which they did darn ruddy well.  A ball did come forth for the hosts, No 14 (Bruno Cina) was galloping forth with curry-dipped conkers it seemed, alas the keeper was quick to read the danger and quell the threat.

Wellingborough would not be muffled, they came on in more waves with Fifield feeding No 12 (Charlie Green) who crossed and saw the ball trapped and then released. Green was there and poked toward goal - the outcome was off target, man that should have been a goal methinks.  The dominating team now surged again, No 9 (Neo Richard-Noel) delivered a cracking cross that just lacked a killer's touch.  And yet again the Wellingborough side advanced with No 6 (Matty Slinn) executing a shot that the keeper pushed away and soon after a ball came into the box with Richard-Noel looking to head on but no ball-based bump on the bonce was had.

Things were looking as though they would stay the way they were although I did note to my missus that the guest No 15 (Zayn Hakeem) was looking like a threat.  No sooner had the words left my gob than the perilous blighter was away on an eye-snagging run, cutting in and sending the ball homeward. 1 - 3 it was and this was a very good finish to the end of a sharp sortie that saw the player have only one thing on his mind.

Now the hosts were having to commit, we entered the frazzled gaspings with a header from the Wellingborough's Draper causing no further blemish on the scorecard.  Nantwich bounced back, Cina had the final pop of a move with the ball zooming up, up and away, a bit like the Nimble girl who needed a few extra crusts it seemed.  The last 5 minutes arrived and the team with the lead were still making most of the running.  Draper had a header go wide and things were looking too comfortable especially seeing that this was a cup game.

Into the dingly dell of added time, from out of the blue the home No 5 (Tom Graves) put in a cross and with the keeper hesitant, Kennedy waltzed in and buried a tidy header.  Thoughts of a serious smash and grab comeback came but were soon banished when the referee blew for full time several second later - ooh the rotten bugger, a few more minutes and who knows what may have transpired?  We headed homeward pleased with a good game though. I thought Wellingborough Town's No 4 (Rhys Kelly) deserved the Man of the Match shout, a player who was assured, conducted matters at his own pace and who read and dealt with any threats and who refused to get ruffled when attackers came his way.  Concrete stuff and mighty cool too!

FINAL THOUGHTS - A good day out watching a couple of teams I know little about.  Wellingborough Town seem to be on something of a roll and one can see why.  A very organised unit with 5 wins out of 5 in the Northern Premier League (Midlands).  That is a solid start and backed up by another cup win, could this be a season of undoubted success.  They look a resolute unit with many options, we shall see what is what and I do wonder if I can sneak in a trip to their ground very soon.  Nanthwich are in a lowly position in the Northern Premier League (West), it could be a case of a bit of bad luck with a surge to come or indeed, the sign of a long and awkward season ahead.  I see potential, but potential untapped is pointless and work needs to begi'

n to shore up the defences and sharpen up the apical components.  I really think this is a grand sent up, with some good mooching areas nearby and of course, a bookshop, we would be foolish not to return but, that darn dairy is bulging, and I have so many plans and so many teams who I like to visit - bugger.

THANK FUCK FOR CHIPS, PIE AND FUNGI

31st August 2026 - Uppermill FC 0 v 0 Flixton FC - Bank holiday Monday so out and about we went with a walk around Knot Hill NR producing 30 species of fungi and helping me get the shrooming eye back in after a long year of bugs. birds, blooms and other natural fascinations.  I have had a good run of footy games of late and was getting a nice fix of goal action and so, whilst on the precipice of leading many walks and putting on a few more up close and personal DIY gigs, I was hoping to round off the month with a glut of strikes - what a disappointed fool I turned out to be.

We arrived at the ground early, had a coffee and a read and then grabbed some grub and moved to the opposite side of the ground where people were absent.  The pie and chips I had were top ruddy notch and the chips that my veggie lass had went down well too.  We sprawled and read a little more and then the breeze rose slightly and a chill came from out of nowhere.  Now we really did need a good match to keep us thermally intrigued - here is what went on, no wonder I went home and had to warm my conkers in a couple of microwaved eggcups.

An average start with both teams involved in a feeling out process and striving to find a semblance of fluidity.  Flixton had a few pushes and Uppermill indulged in some sharp passing sequences that tested the opposition's rear end - akin in fact to a prehensile todger seeking out a rectal opening with no sense of direction.  Throughout the first 15 minute spell there was little to call between the two sides and initial thoughts of a goalless bullet were already in the noggin.  The guests' No 7 (Jack Ward) attempted to banish these embryonic dreads with a firm dig but the home keeper was reading matters and had his carcass right behind it.

Flixton came on again via a breakaway that was emblazoned with promise.  The attacker at the nipple-end of the attack had his shot deflected wide, the corner was superbly headed away by the No 3 (Connor Bramham) but the referee saw an infringement so it was all academic anyway.  Uppermill responded, a lovely move saw No 11 (Zachary Hobin) played in, a nudge in the back came, a penalty was shouted for, the claim was as weak as a dolphin's urine - the referee duly ignored. (ooh me clenched blowhole)

A goal looked mighty unlikely as both teams battled away.  Flixton progressed with high hopes, 2 shots came from a mush of action, both were blocked.  Ward was the final recipient of a pinging globe, alas his shot was thumped with overly zealous desire and whizzed over the bar.  The hosts came on soon after, with a weaving foray.  No 10 (Dylan Fitzgerald) latched on to a loose ball, the shot was firm and on target, the mittman was there to put in a regulation save - ooh the rotten sod, just when a goal was needed.  

The half wasted away like the bobbing testicles of a masturbation addict, I was struggling to find inspiration to scribble.  Half chances came and went, the defensive units remain solid and the creativity of each teams frontline force was just lacking that little something extra and so, when we went into the break, with the scoresheet unblemished, it came as no surprise.  

I needed a water break and so nipped behind the stand and into some Holly bushes where the pecker was pointed, the sharp leaves avoided and golden fluid was passed.  Nearby I spied some dead Holly leaves, I was in fungi mode and expected to see a rather delightful shroom that grows on the leaves of the said plant.  A shake of the appendage, a tucking in and zipping up and a quick mooch - lo and behold, Marasmius hudsonii, the Holly Leaf Parachute - a superb looking fungus with a cap adorned with a display of dark setae.  A punky little blighter and the highlight of the footballing day out so far, although the chips and pie were in the running too - by heck they were choice.  Highlights of the day - I think so!

Back with the missus, a bit of choccie and a cuddle to stave of the nipping breeze and half two began.

Uppermill were out with a spring in their step.  A low corner was dealt with, confusion in the box saw a shot blocked and then No 7 (Kyran Leigh) walloped one from range that the keeper tipped neatly over.  The kick from the angle was rubbish.  Flixton made a push of their own, No 10 (Aaron Dwyer) fed No 9 (Lewis Simon-Byrne) who cut inside and let fly only to see the ball flash wide of the mark.  This was a promising start but several dead ball situations came and all were filed as 'wank' due to their poor execution and lack of creativity.  

The game remained stifled, balanced and screaming out for a goal.  Uppermill did well to work through a spell where they were getting pushed back but the nearest Flixton came was when Simon-Byrne  burst forth and fired well but was again off target.  The game dwindled away, sparks were lacking and a real blaze was never going to rise - into the dying embers we went with only a faint glow of any high end action had.  

Flixton's Simon-Byrne came on again, displayed great feet  to make room for a shot but once more, the target zone was not found.  The same player put bonce on ball when No 2 (Ismael Mendy) delivered, it goes without saying the meshing was left unbulged and the keeper was left with time to scratch his arse, read a book and smoke a quick fag.  Uppermill eventually worked up a move with a sweet sortie ending in a ball to Fitzgerald whose shot was semi-blocked and saved.  Into the smoldering ashes, Dwyer for Flixton fired a free-kick straight at the keeper and soon after we were heading home with a fuck-all score draw under the belts - it had to happen sooner or later. One of the reasons for this end result was the Man of the Match choice, namely Flixton FC's No 4 (Louis Holden) a rock solid defender who headed, tackled and just got in the way of many threats and duly stood his ground like a good old trooper.  A very reliable shift this and one that should be greatly valued by his team.  I was impressed.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Well, a team with high ambition and coin being spilled, the other at the bottom of the league and looking to get the season rolling.  I have seen Flixton twice this season so far, they are not the finished article and may just be realising this North West Counties League is a tough old nut to crack.  I still think they will be in the end mix, a few minor tweaks and a bit more luck up front and a good roll seems to be on the cards.  It is a long old campaign and they are in a healthy position so far, without really breaking in to full stride it seems.  The fact is though, I have seen better teams come unstuck in this league and not make the most of their potential - heads up, socks up, get stuck in chaps.  Uppermill belied their lowly position today and stuck to their guns and dug deep when needed.  They had a few good chances too and if a smattering of good fortune fell their way, they could have nicked this one.  There is a long season ahead, a win is urgently needed and a small run of unbeaten games required - at some point they are going to have to fine tune the attacking focus and put some serious work in the creativity factor.  They are close to a complete team but not there yet - will matters turn around, I for one hope so.

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.