20th September 2017 - Cheadle Town 2 v 2 Chadderton FC - My 4th match in 5 days and one before I take a break and catch up on some other fronts. In fact the next match I will attend is a few weeks off so I will have to get a fresh batch of those renowned anti-withdrawal pills many folk sallow by the mittful during the summer months. After a day of work I was mentally sapped but I wanted to get in this match as, on paper, it looked like it could be a close encounter. Upon arrival I had a chat with the gatekeeper, wagged the jaw with a familiar face who was the father of the Cheadle mitter, a chap I had nattered too several times before whilst his son played in goal for Northwich Manchester Villa and Stockport Town. Crikey the lad's getting around a bit. Up to my usual spot and more mandible movement took place with a groundhopping gent who was a season ticket holder for Man City and Queen of the South - what a combo. We chatted about the night ahead and I gave a prediction of a 2-2 draw - it seemed my powers of prophecy were returning. The teams came out, again the ruddy rain soon followed, this is the state of affairs as seen through weary, but enthused, Fungalised eyes.
The opening patch was fairly level, free kicks came each way with equal wastage the result. A moment of slack defending by the home team allowed a Chaddy striker to weave forth and allow No 10 (Michael Moss) to unleash a strike. The keeper was down and palmed away to keep his teams slate unsoiled. The guests were already showing an ability to play a good passing game and only a shyness and lack of cut-throat execution was keeping this a goal-free affair. They came gain, a couple of blocks stopped the opening goal and throughout this opening batch several players were catching the peeper. No 7 (Craig Schumann), No 9 (Vincent Howell) and the aforementioned Moss, all looked problematical to the home rear guard and as time progressed I expected each to have some major influence on the result. Cheadle, as per, started to slowly warm to matters and when a midfield moment of indecision came via two Chadderton players the home team's No 9 (Michael Sherrington) nipped in, booted and set up a 'chase and see' situation. His pace was defining and his finish was calm under pressure with the ball staying low and finding the corner of the net. It wasn't the team I expected to score first but it set the game up quite nicely. Within fleeting seconds the Green Army were opening up their arsenal yet again with a chance to tap in thwarted at the last and then No 10 (Richard Whyatt) latching on to the loose ball and blasting...wide. It should have been the second goal that's for sure. Cheadle came again, a great cross, a shot in by Mike Sherrington, a nice save was had, the ball was loose, George Clarey punted wide. Next and No 4 (Liam Delaney) launched from range, it needed a good hand to guide it around the upright - good effort lad.
The pattern saw Cheadle push on and Chadderton looking to snatch at any luck-laden scraps. A morsel came, Schumann produced a good run down the flank and crossed with care. The ball ran across the box before No 11 (Luke Heron) came, paused, picked his spot and quite sweetly bagged the equaliser - a really well taken effort. This was what the game needed and now Chadderton grew in stature and sanguinity and started to string together some quite gratifying passing sequences that was a credit to all involved. Cheadle though insisted on breaking the flow, with Luke Hincks having a long range thwack that went soaring over the bar. A good game this with all still to play for. Chadderton came again, No 3 (Dale Minor) strode forth, he looked intent on letting one go which he duly did, it brought out a quality save from the reliable Danny Whiting. A corner came, the ball was bobbling and another shot was cracked in, it was met by another solid save. The closing moments followed, a Chadderton attack broke down at the last - and we were done.
An entertaining half was mulled over by myself and the aforementioned hopper who really knew his onions. My 2 -2 prediction was mentioned, I tried to claim I had made a £500 wager prior to the match but bullshitting has never been my forte - thank goodness. I chewed on a jelly snake and the teams re-appeared, more of the same please.
Back at it and Chadderton were away. A wriggle, a wiggle and a release, the power shot by Heron was duly blocked. The ball flew down the other end, a corner was won. The hoof put in was wonderfully accurate and had enough pace to cause a goalkeeping fumble, Luke Hincks was quick to react - 2 -1, a mugging for sure. Cheadle came yet again, chaos ensued in the guests' box, Mike Sherrington shot close in, the ball was spinning loose and fell at Clarey's feet - the block came, chance gone. A few tasty tackles now crept into the game, the rain kept falling, the referee was trying to keep things liquid on the pitch. A Cheadle blip at the back next nearly gifted their opponents an equaliser but the peril passed and moments later Howell decided to take a swing and was unfortunate to see his long distance punt bounce of the top of the bar. Cheadle's No 7 (Jake Ambrose) came next with a cracking run that saw him ride tackles and run free and eventually boot in a cross.
It was disappointing but still earned a corner which was actually worse than the original cross - bah. Chadderton reacted to the semi-warning that the game could soon be out of reach with a silky smooth move that saw No 8 (Aaron Holton) slink through and produce a quite exquisite finish - it was now 2 -2, a scoreline that was both fair and justified.
The final stretch and The Town came again via Ambrose who provided a quick pass and allowed Mike Sherrington to shoot and be foiled by the gloved guardian. Chaddy now came on, Cheadle were on the back foot, a free-kick for the travellers was won and whilst the home bods switched off the crack was taken and ended up only inches wide. Cheadle had an effort next via a dubious free-kick. Controversy would have reined supreme if this effort had gone in but the ball sailed into the murk and parity remained. Into the dying minutes Cheadle's Jones put one in from the right and after much goalmouth debating, hesitating and contemplating the ball was finally cleared. A last blast came from Chadderton, Cheadle's No 2 (James Dunn) just knocked an incoming cross behind his goal. The corner came with seconds to go, a point blank save by the home mittman was executed - he had earned his team a point for sure - your colleagues owe you a drink sir. The ref blew, I think all were happy with what they had witnessed and my Man of the Match must go to Chadderton's No 9 (Vincent Howell) who, played with ease, had a pace and eye that seemed on a different level and who supplied many fine passes and moves that just made Cheadle work that little bit harder - one to watch I reckon.
FINAL THOUGHT - The third match on the bounce for me tonight and the one with fewest goals but the one that was most entertaining. A fine draw from two contrasting units with Chadderton playing some lovely controlled football and doing so at a pace that will not be disturbed and aimed to run opponents into the ground. Cheadle Town rely on a hurry/scurry approach and hassle away with much gusto and duly create chances aplenty. Both styles made for an encounter that could have gone one way or the other and I hope I can make their next encounter and use my crystal ball to summon up a prediction. In fact I shall don a pair of Mystic Meg's old knickers and pilfer one of Russel Grants woolly jumpers for the next match and, along with a few magic mushrooms and a quart of QC sherry, a good greasing of the magic wand (ooh I shall enjoy that) reckon I can give all ye gambling peeps a tip to remember. Then again, I may be led to a quiet area by the authorities and told to stick to writing reports - watch this space.
Thursday, 21 September 2017
DAISY CUTTERS
19th September 2017 - Prestwich Heys 8 v 0 Daisy Hill - During the opening weeks of the new season I have noticed a change in my lifestyle pattern. I seem to be forever buzzing about, flitting from place to place and hanging around with swarms of creatures exhibiting similar behaviour. I consulted a medical dictionary and found no explanatory relief so, due to my amateur naturalist ways, turned to my many tomes on the natural world. Would you believe that the answer came via an old entomological tome written by the renowned insect expert E. R Wig. Apparently humans who take a distinct interest in Non-League football and who are already subject to a busy lifestyle are prone to metamorphing into an entirely new species, this being known as The Blue Arsed Fly (Fidgetus posterius). So that explains it all and maybe my eagerness to examine piles of dung is nothing to do with fungal hunting after all and I am really after a quick meal before attending a much anticipated match. Well who would of thought it? So after resolving my issues myself and my good fellow buzzer drove to Adie Moran Park where we met up with fellow punk pirate and potential flitter STP Stu. Tea and a chinwag was merry, we wandered to our usual spot and watched the teams come out into the decent night air. Fellow flies appeared, for once we didn't want a pile of shit but something far more substantial - the bowels of football opened and we got something like this.
It was a tepid start with both teams looking well matched. Daisy Hill had an early cross that tempted their whirring No 7 (Adam Owens) to slide in and chance his leg. No contact was made but the threat was there. Both teams continued to prod and poke with The Heys having a corner then a shot that was duly tipped wide. Confusion from the ball in brought another free in-swinger but no joy was had. At the other end a similar state of play arose with an equally deflating outcome. We needed a team to grab the goat by the gonads which Prestwich Heys duly did with a bout of passing play ending in a final lob over the keeper that was nothing short of first class. Rio Wilson-Heyes was the taker of the glory, get the lad a drink! The match now opened up, Daisy Hill had a crack of the whip but the odd last gasp tackle kept the scoreline clean and tidy for tonight's host team. The Heys came, No 8 (Dominis Slavin) was in and had time to spare. Alas he spared a little too much and the shot came too late and the mittman had time to spread and get his carcass in the way. Now the visitors pushed, a free-kick was wasted and went straight into the robust keepers arms. The keeper duly hoofed, a golden touch was had, in came Alfie Belcher, dinked once and put the ball into the awaiting goal - good golly, now that was a blow.
A quiet patch came, and again the guests pumped forth and, again their opponents came out of the blue. No 8 (Dominic Slaven) was up against a defender and an outrushing keeper - he somehow got to the ball first in a blue of boiled eggs (legs) and with a bit of fair luck was allowed to tap the ball home and almost put this game to bed - and only 31 minutes on the clock. Within a few more rotations of the clock arm Prestwich Heys won a corner. It was a peach of a delivery and up rose No 5 (Mark Ayres) and nutted home with commanding authority - game done, dusted and thrown in the box of victory methinks. No sooner had I finished my scribbles than the PH army gushed again and after a stunning run a swift cross ensued and a thump executed. Pass me the pills of reality, Daniel White had only gone and made it 5 - 0. It was now that the manager of Daisy Hill decided to make a touchline appearance and offer advice - crikey, talk about a late showing. They duly reacted, they duly failed, and when a through ball came a sixth goal was the result, this time Lee Bruce being the scorer and celebrating what was nothing short of a one-way slamming. The last two minutes were played out, the ref blew, Daisy Hill headed into the changing room with heads hung low, Prestwich Heys strode peckers held high - them goals sure are an aphrodisiac.
We three observers wandered for a cup of cha which was only soured by finding that my golden goal ticket was 2 minutes shy of the win. To add salt to the wound the lovely lady serving the tea was within a chance of winning and duly claimed she would not share the jackpot - oh the cruel woman and may her supply of milk curdle and her oven full of pies duly shrivel - that'll teach ya.
Back to the spot and the second half commenced - I didn't expect a comeback - is that a trifle harsh? The Heys came, a bout of ping-pong in the DH box, the visiting team was looking unsettled at the back. A passing move was executed - 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 and...yes, you guessed it...another goal and another slap of icing on a quite sickening cake. Max White take a bow and cut yourself a slice - you can eat it whilst you play, this is hardly a challenge. Minutes later a fleet-footed attack was borne, I expected a goal, I was duly given the gift - Rio Wilson-Heyes who was responsible for starting the downpour full stopped matters and doubled his own tally - well taken chap, well taken. From here a balanced period came, something appeared that bordered on the brink of a game of competitive football and, when The Hill came and a cross struck the upright, one wondered if the script had been torn up. No sooner had one pondered an away goal then Prestwich surged and forced the keeper into making a really impressive save. They came immediately after and another great block was had by the mittman (Jake Chadwick) who must surely have been disillusioned with the nights events. From here his colleagues put together a few passing moves with Adam Owens running his arse off up until the bitter end. A consolation goal would be most welcome.
The game dissolved, Heys switched off, The Hill rushed and hoped and despite several substitutions each way no nail-biting action arose. A few wild cracks came, some were wayward, some were blocked at the death but nothing arose that gave either goalkeeper the jitters. Hey's did have one last punt when a smooth move saw a crack from No 3 get dealt with by the guardian of the mesh and keep the score at a reasonable 8 (he says sarcastically). The game ended, I was left to ponder a Man of the Match and went for the No 3 (Lewis Adams) of Prestwich Heys who may not have had the goal glory but who read many a situation at the back, gave his side a stability and kept a good level of concentration throughout - it all helps the team perform well.
FINAL THOUGHT - Well that was a demolition job if ever I saw one and the last time I witnessed this many balls in a net was when I went fishing for male fish genitalia off the coast of Timbuktoo. This was a pure one way drubbing and if Daisy Hill don't get their act sorted pretty soon and the Manager doesn't invigorate his players with enthusiasm it could be a long, old season full of woe. They did show good character tonight though and one or two bods ran their rears into the ground chasing, what was, a lost cause. Prestwich Heys are a decent unit and after coming close to making the play-offs last year will definitely be in the mix this time next April. I recognised a few players from other clubs tonight and, after chatting to a decent gent on the touchline who was hoping to get back in the mix after a 5 year lay off, it looks as though the team have plenty of potential to push on - the warning bells have been rung mighty hard tonight, watch yer lugs folks.
It was a tepid start with both teams looking well matched. Daisy Hill had an early cross that tempted their whirring No 7 (Adam Owens) to slide in and chance his leg. No contact was made but the threat was there. Both teams continued to prod and poke with The Heys having a corner then a shot that was duly tipped wide. Confusion from the ball in brought another free in-swinger but no joy was had. At the other end a similar state of play arose with an equally deflating outcome. We needed a team to grab the goat by the gonads which Prestwich Heys duly did with a bout of passing play ending in a final lob over the keeper that was nothing short of first class. Rio Wilson-Heyes was the taker of the glory, get the lad a drink! The match now opened up, Daisy Hill had a crack of the whip but the odd last gasp tackle kept the scoreline clean and tidy for tonight's host team. The Heys came, No 8 (Dominis Slavin) was in and had time to spare. Alas he spared a little too much and the shot came too late and the mittman had time to spread and get his carcass in the way. Now the visitors pushed, a free-kick was wasted and went straight into the robust keepers arms. The keeper duly hoofed, a golden touch was had, in came Alfie Belcher, dinked once and put the ball into the awaiting goal - good golly, now that was a blow.
A quiet patch came, and again the guests pumped forth and, again their opponents came out of the blue. No 8 (Dominic Slaven) was up against a defender and an outrushing keeper - he somehow got to the ball first in a blue of boiled eggs (legs) and with a bit of fair luck was allowed to tap the ball home and almost put this game to bed - and only 31 minutes on the clock. Within a few more rotations of the clock arm Prestwich Heys won a corner. It was a peach of a delivery and up rose No 5 (Mark Ayres) and nutted home with commanding authority - game done, dusted and thrown in the box of victory methinks. No sooner had I finished my scribbles than the PH army gushed again and after a stunning run a swift cross ensued and a thump executed. Pass me the pills of reality, Daniel White had only gone and made it 5 - 0. It was now that the manager of Daisy Hill decided to make a touchline appearance and offer advice - crikey, talk about a late showing. They duly reacted, they duly failed, and when a through ball came a sixth goal was the result, this time Lee Bruce being the scorer and celebrating what was nothing short of a one-way slamming. The last two minutes were played out, the ref blew, Daisy Hill headed into the changing room with heads hung low, Prestwich Heys strode peckers held high - them goals sure are an aphrodisiac.
We three observers wandered for a cup of cha which was only soured by finding that my golden goal ticket was 2 minutes shy of the win. To add salt to the wound the lovely lady serving the tea was within a chance of winning and duly claimed she would not share the jackpot - oh the cruel woman and may her supply of milk curdle and her oven full of pies duly shrivel - that'll teach ya.
Back to the spot and the second half commenced - I didn't expect a comeback - is that a trifle harsh? The Heys came, a bout of ping-pong in the DH box, the visiting team was looking unsettled at the back. A passing move was executed - 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 and...yes, you guessed it...another goal and another slap of icing on a quite sickening cake. Max White take a bow and cut yourself a slice - you can eat it whilst you play, this is hardly a challenge. Minutes later a fleet-footed attack was borne, I expected a goal, I was duly given the gift - Rio Wilson-Heyes who was responsible for starting the downpour full stopped matters and doubled his own tally - well taken chap, well taken. From here a balanced period came, something appeared that bordered on the brink of a game of competitive football and, when The Hill came and a cross struck the upright, one wondered if the script had been torn up. No sooner had one pondered an away goal then Prestwich surged and forced the keeper into making a really impressive save. They came immediately after and another great block was had by the mittman (Jake Chadwick) who must surely have been disillusioned with the nights events. From here his colleagues put together a few passing moves with Adam Owens running his arse off up until the bitter end. A consolation goal would be most welcome.
The game dissolved, Heys switched off, The Hill rushed and hoped and despite several substitutions each way no nail-biting action arose. A few wild cracks came, some were wayward, some were blocked at the death but nothing arose that gave either goalkeeper the jitters. Hey's did have one last punt when a smooth move saw a crack from No 3 get dealt with by the guardian of the mesh and keep the score at a reasonable 8 (he says sarcastically). The game ended, I was left to ponder a Man of the Match and went for the No 3 (Lewis Adams) of Prestwich Heys who may not have had the goal glory but who read many a situation at the back, gave his side a stability and kept a good level of concentration throughout - it all helps the team perform well.
FINAL THOUGHT - Well that was a demolition job if ever I saw one and the last time I witnessed this many balls in a net was when I went fishing for male fish genitalia off the coast of Timbuktoo. This was a pure one way drubbing and if Daisy Hill don't get their act sorted pretty soon and the Manager doesn't invigorate his players with enthusiasm it could be a long, old season full of woe. They did show good character tonight though and one or two bods ran their rears into the ground chasing, what was, a lost cause. Prestwich Heys are a decent unit and after coming close to making the play-offs last year will definitely be in the mix this time next April. I recognised a few players from other clubs tonight and, after chatting to a decent gent on the touchline who was hoping to get back in the mix after a 5 year lay off, it looks as though the team have plenty of potential to push on - the warning bells have been rung mighty hard tonight, watch yer lugs folks.
Tuesday, 19 September 2017
THERE'S KILLERS AND THERE'S MILLERS
18th September 2017 - Stockport Town 6 v 1 New Mills - I am now officially immersed in the fungi season and am laden with spores, sprouting fruiting bodies from every orifice and am the proud owner of a noggin awash with Latin names. I led the first fungal foray of the year yesterday and had been wandering again today and so, after some microscopy and recording I needed a football fix to put some sanity back in my gills. The match tonight had an extra spice due to the manager of New Mills being the ex-manager of Stockport Town, a move that gave rise to many rumours and no doubt exaggerated claims. The last time I saw both teams was fairly recent and both impressed me in various ways, with Stockport's performance being quite exceptional. I paid my money on the gate, took up my position and made a mental bet, at the end of the review I shall reveal if my prediction came true.
The skies were dark as the two units came out, the rain was already falling but a good crowd was in attendance. New Mills were quick starters with a brace of crosses testing Stockport's mettle. The defending was sturdy but unexpectedly a sudden burst from The Miller's No 9 (Nathan Neequaye) who, from a couple of yards out could only fire the ball into the meat of the mittmans carcass. A corner was won and taken but the nut that came, although on target, was easily dealt with. The Town came back with their own assault that saw No 4 (Conor Downes) break and shoot and get a corner via a deflection. Nothing came of the corner but the balance was redressed. The same team came again, a long ball over the top was chased by No 9 (Ben Halfacre). The opposing defender and goalkeeper got in a muddle and the former's head made contact. The ball somehow went sailing wide - now that was ruddy dangerous. A minor lull followed before Stockport had another chance with the whipped up No 8 (Aaron Dwyer) through and looking down the barrel of a goal. The finish was rushed, the ball soared into the murk, disappointment reined.
Onwards and Halfacre of the Town stole in, passed and saw a cross flash across the goal mouth. No takers arrived except No 11 (Ruben Abreu) who was at the back post. He was too far out to shoot so put in a cross, agonisingly it bounced along the top of the bar and went over - a shot may have been more profitable after all. The Town came again, Halfacre back in the mix and producing a fine pass that saw Dwyer connect and dance inward before firing over again. New Mills were on the back peg although they won a corner that resulted in a distant crack from No 4 (Aaron Kirk) that was just a few feet off target. It wasn't long before another Lion's attack came, Dwyer again just thwarted by the keeper and soon the No 1 (Liam Flynn) was facing the ball coming his way again, this one from the toe of omnipresent Halfacre. Fortunately another save was not needed as the ball found too much elevation. The game took another dip, Ruben of the Town was in next but his toe poke bore no fruit. The Miller's had a rare sniff and re-emphasised the fact that they were still in this one after a ball in the box caused havoc and the mittman needed nimbleness, quick hands and a slice of fortune to keep things all square. Suddenly 2 fine balls came, Stockport were ablaze and in nipped No 2 (Daryll Grant) to eventually finish a choice move. Through the legs of the keeper the ball went, the mesh rippled, at last we had a goal. No more excitement came, the drizzle still fell, the break was welcome.
A read, a slurp and a Boost bar - and back to it!
The saturated bodies re-entered the fray. The home lads were immediately up and at the jugular of their opponents with Halfacre flashing a cross along the deck - again no frontman grabbing the chance, Within seconds a killer pass was produced, a second goal was slid home, this time by the alert Aaron Dwyer who not only doubled his teams lead but put a mighty boot in the hopes of the visiting crew. It was all The Town from here onwards, Halfacre again cracking a shot in via an audacious lob that was unlucky not to bring up goal number 3. Another attack, this time the same frontman actually finding the net. Offside given, the denial of glory didn't detract from a steamrolling performance. No 3 (Izzy Miranda) of The Town came next, he crossed and a tap in on the line saw a great save follow. The ball rolled outward, thwack - 3 - 0 and Jamie Hinchcliffe the recipient. A brief excursion forth by New Mills was had and a corner taken. This led to a Stockport break, Miranda drove on, the ball was released for Dwyer to chase. Guess what? Yes, 4 - 0 and game well and truly over. Within seconds we had a mirror image moment. The Millers pushed again, the break came with a shot and great save had and a loose ball there for the taking. Ben Halfacre was due a goal and he thumped home with certainty to add to an already embarrassing scoreline. 5 - 0 and still 22 minutes left.
From here I hoped the away team would get a consolation and they duly obliged when a mix up in the home defence saw the ball roll loose and Nathan Neequaye tap in and give those of a very hopeful nature (otherwise known as delusional lunatics) thoughts of a miracle. The comeback cretins were soon doused with defeat when Halfacre chased a hopeless ball, lost it, regained it, lost it and then, won a penalty. He would let no-one take the free-punt and he stepped up with focus and hammered home his second and his teams sixth. Moments later he was down and crook and hobbled off for some respite. The hat-trick though was a huge lure and with a slight limp the striker came back on to take part in the final minutes. No 15 (Ashley Stott) had a crack but the finish was poor, No 14 (Lee Constantine) had an effort too, wide of the mark it went and, with a bit more heave ho by the hosts and desperate chasing by the guests, the game eventually was done. There was many a bod from the Lion's squad who could have been Man of the Match tonight but No 9 (Ben Halfacre) must take the prize due to tenacity, doggedness and a brace of goals that were fully deserved. A good target man who, if in a calm and zoned mood, can get many, many goals this season.
FINAL THOUGHT - A job was done tonight, a real whipping and certainly indicating where both teams may end up come season end. The Stockport team are on a good streak at the moment and one mustn't forget this was a game of two teams on the same points before a ball was even kicked. Surely, with this kind of form, Stockport must at least make the play-off's. One never knows and stranger things have happened in the bedroom of the Arch Bishop of Canterbury, or so I am told. The Millers need to get grinding very soon and make sure they don't get too down on this one off result. I am sure back at their ground things may be a trifle closer. I think the team are like Dolly Parton, with one or two fine assets that need to be encouraged a little so as not to sag during a performance. The odd crack in the rear needs attention (cripes) and perhaps a little more uplift at the front is needed but these are minor suggestions and based, not just on tonight's evidence but on several viewings, the team are far from a duff donkey.
The skies were dark as the two units came out, the rain was already falling but a good crowd was in attendance. New Mills were quick starters with a brace of crosses testing Stockport's mettle. The defending was sturdy but unexpectedly a sudden burst from The Miller's No 9 (Nathan Neequaye) who, from a couple of yards out could only fire the ball into the meat of the mittmans carcass. A corner was won and taken but the nut that came, although on target, was easily dealt with. The Town came back with their own assault that saw No 4 (Conor Downes) break and shoot and get a corner via a deflection. Nothing came of the corner but the balance was redressed. The same team came again, a long ball over the top was chased by No 9 (Ben Halfacre). The opposing defender and goalkeeper got in a muddle and the former's head made contact. The ball somehow went sailing wide - now that was ruddy dangerous. A minor lull followed before Stockport had another chance with the whipped up No 8 (Aaron Dwyer) through and looking down the barrel of a goal. The finish was rushed, the ball soared into the murk, disappointment reined.
Onwards and Halfacre of the Town stole in, passed and saw a cross flash across the goal mouth. No takers arrived except No 11 (Ruben Abreu) who was at the back post. He was too far out to shoot so put in a cross, agonisingly it bounced along the top of the bar and went over - a shot may have been more profitable after all. The Town came again, Halfacre back in the mix and producing a fine pass that saw Dwyer connect and dance inward before firing over again. New Mills were on the back peg although they won a corner that resulted in a distant crack from No 4 (Aaron Kirk) that was just a few feet off target. It wasn't long before another Lion's attack came, Dwyer again just thwarted by the keeper and soon the No 1 (Liam Flynn) was facing the ball coming his way again, this one from the toe of omnipresent Halfacre. Fortunately another save was not needed as the ball found too much elevation. The game took another dip, Ruben of the Town was in next but his toe poke bore no fruit. The Miller's had a rare sniff and re-emphasised the fact that they were still in this one after a ball in the box caused havoc and the mittman needed nimbleness, quick hands and a slice of fortune to keep things all square. Suddenly 2 fine balls came, Stockport were ablaze and in nipped No 2 (Daryll Grant) to eventually finish a choice move. Through the legs of the keeper the ball went, the mesh rippled, at last we had a goal. No more excitement came, the drizzle still fell, the break was welcome.
A read, a slurp and a Boost bar - and back to it!
The saturated bodies re-entered the fray. The home lads were immediately up and at the jugular of their opponents with Halfacre flashing a cross along the deck - again no frontman grabbing the chance, Within seconds a killer pass was produced, a second goal was slid home, this time by the alert Aaron Dwyer who not only doubled his teams lead but put a mighty boot in the hopes of the visiting crew. It was all The Town from here onwards, Halfacre again cracking a shot in via an audacious lob that was unlucky not to bring up goal number 3. Another attack, this time the same frontman actually finding the net. Offside given, the denial of glory didn't detract from a steamrolling performance. No 3 (Izzy Miranda) of The Town came next, he crossed and a tap in on the line saw a great save follow. The ball rolled outward, thwack - 3 - 0 and Jamie Hinchcliffe the recipient. A brief excursion forth by New Mills was had and a corner taken. This led to a Stockport break, Miranda drove on, the ball was released for Dwyer to chase. Guess what? Yes, 4 - 0 and game well and truly over. Within seconds we had a mirror image moment. The Millers pushed again, the break came with a shot and great save had and a loose ball there for the taking. Ben Halfacre was due a goal and he thumped home with certainty to add to an already embarrassing scoreline. 5 - 0 and still 22 minutes left.
From here I hoped the away team would get a consolation and they duly obliged when a mix up in the home defence saw the ball roll loose and Nathan Neequaye tap in and give those of a very hopeful nature (otherwise known as delusional lunatics) thoughts of a miracle. The comeback cretins were soon doused with defeat when Halfacre chased a hopeless ball, lost it, regained it, lost it and then, won a penalty. He would let no-one take the free-punt and he stepped up with focus and hammered home his second and his teams sixth. Moments later he was down and crook and hobbled off for some respite. The hat-trick though was a huge lure and with a slight limp the striker came back on to take part in the final minutes. No 15 (Ashley Stott) had a crack but the finish was poor, No 14 (Lee Constantine) had an effort too, wide of the mark it went and, with a bit more heave ho by the hosts and desperate chasing by the guests, the game eventually was done. There was many a bod from the Lion's squad who could have been Man of the Match tonight but No 9 (Ben Halfacre) must take the prize due to tenacity, doggedness and a brace of goals that were fully deserved. A good target man who, if in a calm and zoned mood, can get many, many goals this season.
FINAL THOUGHT - A job was done tonight, a real whipping and certainly indicating where both teams may end up come season end. The Stockport team are on a good streak at the moment and one mustn't forget this was a game of two teams on the same points before a ball was even kicked. Surely, with this kind of form, Stockport must at least make the play-off's. One never knows and stranger things have happened in the bedroom of the Arch Bishop of Canterbury, or so I am told. The Millers need to get grinding very soon and make sure they don't get too down on this one off result. I am sure back at their ground things may be a trifle closer. I think the team are like Dolly Parton, with one or two fine assets that need to be encouraged a little so as not to sag during a performance. The odd crack in the rear needs attention (cripes) and perhaps a little more uplift at the front is needed but these are minor suggestions and based, not just on tonight's evidence but on several viewings, the team are far from a duff donkey.
Saturday, 16 September 2017
A LATE KICK IN THE BARLICKS
16th September 2017 - Irlam FC 1 v 1 Barnoldswick Town - The weeks are passing quicker than the crap that was falling from Donald Trump's mouth, the Non-League games are creeping up faster than the Popes flies in a whore-house raid and the many tasks I take on are piling up higher than Alan Ball's voice whilst riding a seat-less unicycle...naked. I chomp on the clock though and get what I can out of each and every 24 hours and try and make them as productive as ever. My good lady took her mum shopping, I did the hoovering, dishes and sorted many moth pictures whilst my 19 year old daughter slept until 10.45am and duly chilled out (the lucky bugger). Dinner and a few other duties were attended to, a drive to the Ambitek Stadium in clogged traffic was had and me and my missus entered the ground, partook of tea and chocolate and awaited today's match. After a collection of the team sheet from the Irlam Assistant Manager, we took up our seats and had a chat to a Burnley FC scout who was watching one of his players on loan to Barnoldswick FC. A nice chap who certainly appreciated this level of football that he recognised as being the real deal - nice to hear. And to today's battle. Irlam were building an impetus, Barnoldswick are an efficient unit - you would have better luck squeezing a pimple on the arse of an Orangutan than trying to get a prediction out of me. Exposure of the teams took place, the officials joined in too and as the 25 sets of legs took up their positions all peepers were peeled and this is what was seen (in my humble and honest opinion).
A peg swung, the spherical container of air rotated and...like two kids indulging in a game of Operation both teams prodded and poked in the hope of exposing the opponents inner guts. There was very little in it, with Irlam finding themselves awarded an early corner that was fizzed in with pace and missing any rising bonses but finding a surprised toe that knocked the ball too high. The Barlicks had the first real chance though when a cutting pass dissected the defense and found their enthused No 10 (Danny Boyle). The finish was a trifle soft and easily collected by the mitter - promising. Boyle was in the mood again when he coupled up with his teammate (and in public too) No 9 (Mark Threlfall), but the threat soon mellowed out and Irlam could regroup. The home team played some neat football for a short period, all done at a steady controlled pace that always threatened to bloom into something exciting. The visitors though were always alert and kept things nipped in the bud. Barlick played higher than their opponents and nearly snuck in again when quick feet saw the ball released to No 8 (Harry Thompson) who was just thwarted at the last by a wide awake keeper. The corner saw Boyle crack a firm volley and take the upper crust of a spectators head off and within moments another angled punt came, this time won by Threlfall who was on the end of matters nodding goalward and missing by mere inches.
The tide was against the home bods and when Threlfall nodded, chased and crossed, Boyle should have executed the first strike of the day but was more than a little reckless in his finishing. A generous gift indeed for the team under the cosh. Suddenly we were up the other end and an Irlam free-kick saw the opposing netter punch clear and get clobbered. Whilst he was on the deck play went on and a long range punt flew towards his net. The underside of the bar was rattled and danger cleared, the referee was lucky the goal remained intact as blazing controversy would surely have erupted. Moments later Irlam's No 10 (Matthew Boland) was given the ball on a plate but his tidy sidefoot went wide and over. The guests responded with a ball over the top and the No 5 (Steven Mills) of Irlam surely shit himself as his head made contact and the globe flew off towards his own goal. Luckily the rotations were plentiful and the ball went for a corner. The corner came, two last gasp blocks were had to deny the opening strike and out of the mire an attack came with some sharp advanced movement allowing No 8 (Isaac Illidge) to thwack off an effort and force the keeper into making an agile, full-stretched stop. A free-kick and corner came without added luck and the game leveled out as the 45 minutes came to a close. A decent and competitive half and like the arse of Freddie Mercury - this was anyone's.
Tea and chocolate was consumed by we 2 punters and to the opposite side of the ground we tootled, to stand in the sun and alter the viewpoint.
Irlam started the second period with their tails up (something in the water methinks, pass the Bromide) and an early free-kick was hoofed in but was too high for any ascending noggins. The BT boys struck back, Boyle hustling and passing to Threlfall who ran forth and thumped home with the eye of a striker - a quick attack and 1 goal to the good. The blow for Irlam was sharpened further a man limped off and a substitution was forced - oh the cruelty of it all. Next and a wandering run from the travelling No 11 (Zack Dale) saw a low shot easily saved from which Irlam built and roamed forth with more belief. Alas the end punt from No 14 (Liam Morrison) was a warped as a well rubbed Robot's nob and the team had to try and re-focus and re-oil their gears. A corner came the other end, a dummy was executed and a brace of shots followed - no prize result but the thinking was nice. Barnoldswick were a constant menace and very hard to shake off the ball with a free-punt won due to nothing less than sheer desire and urgency. The shot that followed was bilge but the attitude was bang on the mark. The same team came again and like rats on a turd, every last scrap was battled for and was, in the main, the reason why they had their snouts in front - a noticeable hunger dictated the scoreline. No 6 (Shain Airy) had an headed effort next and as he connected with the incoming corner he was frightfully unlucky to see the ball rise high and not hit the target. Irlam needed to get to grips with this one mighty quickly.
An home team sub was had, a thrust of pressure came, the visitors stood firm. Dale for Barlick went on a fine run and crossed for a header to land in the keepers arms. The No 1 of Irlam hoofed long and the defensive error from a wayward nut nearly gave rise to a quite shocking own goal. Lady Luck is a capricious old mare at times. It was now fast action at both ends and, when a punt by Irlam saw the opposing goalkeeper challenge and get the ball clear, a shot from No 16 (Ben Gorman) came right back and on bang on target. Where on earth did the mittmans feet drop from? Straight back game Barlick, Boyle again the troublesome character and again shooting and causing the keeper concern. The save came, the threat level was still high and a follow up shot came like an arrow on fire and the No 1 did well to hold the ball and give his side due respite. Irlam came next, a streaking run that ended with a hoof over and proved the Fat Lady was far from vibrating her tonsils. Another bonus boot for the blue bods, controversially from a dubious handball shout. The box was rammed to the rafters, we were in the last seconds and all Barlick had to do was clear. Irlam's Liam Morrison, who had come off the bench, was fresh and alert and when his head made contact and the net rippled we had a scenario that saw utter celebration combined with relief on one side and utter despair and disillusion on the other. Within seconds the game was finalised and somehow this one had ended up all square. The debate raged on and I felt for the visitors but if one doesn't kill an animal when grabbed by the short and curlies the injured beast is liable to strike back at any given moment. A lesson to be learnt. Man of the Match from this competitive affair must go to Barnoldswick Town's No 11 (Zack Dale) who showed good desire, balance, quick tootsies and endless enthusiasm throughout the match and is a player who will certainly contribute to many triumphs - all the best man. We tootled off and wondered how Irlam had grabbed a point here but, as I always say, the art of never giving in is a precious one and over a long season can earn many points that could be considered lost - you just gotta keep on truckin'.
FINAL THOUGHT - I said before this game that you would have to be a complete nut or a man with no sense of shame to even have ago at predicting the outcome of many of these NWCFL matches and that proved to be the case again today. I, most foolishly, reckoned Irlam would win this 4 goals to 1, what an absolute tit I was proven to be - a tit drained of milk and man-handled by babies of ill-fortune may I add. I love the uncertainty that these teams provide and, despite my powers of prophecy being exhibited for the crap that it is, I shall go on and make two more predictions. Both these squads will finish in the higher echelons of the league and turn in a few performances that will frazzle the footballing turnips of their opponents. If either team fails to meet the heights I predict then I promise to move to Pakistan, shack up with a gay pygmy and take on the role of managing a one legged cricket team - and that's a ruddy promise. Before then though I shall do a few more reports and keep my rear on the line and enjoy some greatly appreciated underdog footy - wish me well fellow punters!
A peg swung, the spherical container of air rotated and...like two kids indulging in a game of Operation both teams prodded and poked in the hope of exposing the opponents inner guts. There was very little in it, with Irlam finding themselves awarded an early corner that was fizzed in with pace and missing any rising bonses but finding a surprised toe that knocked the ball too high. The Barlicks had the first real chance though when a cutting pass dissected the defense and found their enthused No 10 (Danny Boyle). The finish was a trifle soft and easily collected by the mitter - promising. Boyle was in the mood again when he coupled up with his teammate (and in public too) No 9 (Mark Threlfall), but the threat soon mellowed out and Irlam could regroup. The home team played some neat football for a short period, all done at a steady controlled pace that always threatened to bloom into something exciting. The visitors though were always alert and kept things nipped in the bud. Barlick played higher than their opponents and nearly snuck in again when quick feet saw the ball released to No 8 (Harry Thompson) who was just thwarted at the last by a wide awake keeper. The corner saw Boyle crack a firm volley and take the upper crust of a spectators head off and within moments another angled punt came, this time won by Threlfall who was on the end of matters nodding goalward and missing by mere inches.
The tide was against the home bods and when Threlfall nodded, chased and crossed, Boyle should have executed the first strike of the day but was more than a little reckless in his finishing. A generous gift indeed for the team under the cosh. Suddenly we were up the other end and an Irlam free-kick saw the opposing netter punch clear and get clobbered. Whilst he was on the deck play went on and a long range punt flew towards his net. The underside of the bar was rattled and danger cleared, the referee was lucky the goal remained intact as blazing controversy would surely have erupted. Moments later Irlam's No 10 (Matthew Boland) was given the ball on a plate but his tidy sidefoot went wide and over. The guests responded with a ball over the top and the No 5 (Steven Mills) of Irlam surely shit himself as his head made contact and the globe flew off towards his own goal. Luckily the rotations were plentiful and the ball went for a corner. The corner came, two last gasp blocks were had to deny the opening strike and out of the mire an attack came with some sharp advanced movement allowing No 8 (Isaac Illidge) to thwack off an effort and force the keeper into making an agile, full-stretched stop. A free-kick and corner came without added luck and the game leveled out as the 45 minutes came to a close. A decent and competitive half and like the arse of Freddie Mercury - this was anyone's.
Tea and chocolate was consumed by we 2 punters and to the opposite side of the ground we tootled, to stand in the sun and alter the viewpoint.
Irlam started the second period with their tails up (something in the water methinks, pass the Bromide) and an early free-kick was hoofed in but was too high for any ascending noggins. The BT boys struck back, Boyle hustling and passing to Threlfall who ran forth and thumped home with the eye of a striker - a quick attack and 1 goal to the good. The blow for Irlam was sharpened further a man limped off and a substitution was forced - oh the cruelty of it all. Next and a wandering run from the travelling No 11 (Zack Dale) saw a low shot easily saved from which Irlam built and roamed forth with more belief. Alas the end punt from No 14 (Liam Morrison) was a warped as a well rubbed Robot's nob and the team had to try and re-focus and re-oil their gears. A corner came the other end, a dummy was executed and a brace of shots followed - no prize result but the thinking was nice. Barnoldswick were a constant menace and very hard to shake off the ball with a free-punt won due to nothing less than sheer desire and urgency. The shot that followed was bilge but the attitude was bang on the mark. The same team came again and like rats on a turd, every last scrap was battled for and was, in the main, the reason why they had their snouts in front - a noticeable hunger dictated the scoreline. No 6 (Shain Airy) had an headed effort next and as he connected with the incoming corner he was frightfully unlucky to see the ball rise high and not hit the target. Irlam needed to get to grips with this one mighty quickly.
An home team sub was had, a thrust of pressure came, the visitors stood firm. Dale for Barlick went on a fine run and crossed for a header to land in the keepers arms. The No 1 of Irlam hoofed long and the defensive error from a wayward nut nearly gave rise to a quite shocking own goal. Lady Luck is a capricious old mare at times. It was now fast action at both ends and, when a punt by Irlam saw the opposing goalkeeper challenge and get the ball clear, a shot from No 16 (Ben Gorman) came right back and on bang on target. Where on earth did the mittmans feet drop from? Straight back game Barlick, Boyle again the troublesome character and again shooting and causing the keeper concern. The save came, the threat level was still high and a follow up shot came like an arrow on fire and the No 1 did well to hold the ball and give his side due respite. Irlam came next, a streaking run that ended with a hoof over and proved the Fat Lady was far from vibrating her tonsils. Another bonus boot for the blue bods, controversially from a dubious handball shout. The box was rammed to the rafters, we were in the last seconds and all Barlick had to do was clear. Irlam's Liam Morrison, who had come off the bench, was fresh and alert and when his head made contact and the net rippled we had a scenario that saw utter celebration combined with relief on one side and utter despair and disillusion on the other. Within seconds the game was finalised and somehow this one had ended up all square. The debate raged on and I felt for the visitors but if one doesn't kill an animal when grabbed by the short and curlies the injured beast is liable to strike back at any given moment. A lesson to be learnt. Man of the Match from this competitive affair must go to Barnoldswick Town's No 11 (Zack Dale) who showed good desire, balance, quick tootsies and endless enthusiasm throughout the match and is a player who will certainly contribute to many triumphs - all the best man. We tootled off and wondered how Irlam had grabbed a point here but, as I always say, the art of never giving in is a precious one and over a long season can earn many points that could be considered lost - you just gotta keep on truckin'.
FINAL THOUGHT - I said before this game that you would have to be a complete nut or a man with no sense of shame to even have ago at predicting the outcome of many of these NWCFL matches and that proved to be the case again today. I, most foolishly, reckoned Irlam would win this 4 goals to 1, what an absolute tit I was proven to be - a tit drained of milk and man-handled by babies of ill-fortune may I add. I love the uncertainty that these teams provide and, despite my powers of prophecy being exhibited for the crap that it is, I shall go on and make two more predictions. Both these squads will finish in the higher echelons of the league and turn in a few performances that will frazzle the footballing turnips of their opponents. If either team fails to meet the heights I predict then I promise to move to Pakistan, shack up with a gay pygmy and take on the role of managing a one legged cricket team - and that's a ruddy promise. Before then though I shall do a few more reports and keep my rear on the line and enjoy some greatly appreciated underdog footy - wish me well fellow punters!
Wednesday, 13 September 2017
THE CROOKED HAND OF FATE
12th September 2017 - Abbey Hey 0 v 1 Hallam FC - There is a madness that pervades the cerebral network of the Non-League masses thus forcing them to expose themselves and their physical frameworks to untold climactic torture that will undoubtedly result in warped bones, rheumatic muscles and swollen arthritic joints. It also plays merry hell with weak bladders, shrinks genitals and turns countenances a comical shade of russet. Despite this and the night's weather forecast the players and punters turned out and do their bit for a reality sodden sport that needs no explanation. The doctors have given up the ghost, there is no hope for those infected and hey, if a survey was conducted I am sure, if the truth be told, they are happier that way. I am a sufferer myself and tonight I took up my position at pitchside and watched another encounter unfold between 2 teams trying their darnedest to progress to Round 2 of the Buildbase Vase FA Cup. The rain fell, the chill crept inward, the teams came out and I wished them well. One ball would be beaten black and blue tonight, many balls would turn blue for other reason - cripes get the deep heat ready!
The first half began with both units attempting to play some on the deck football which brought about an initial chance for the guests that dissolved into nothing more than a minor warning. The Heys repaid the threat with a chance of their own when a glorious cross was hoofed in. Although the in-coming head of a striker missed the ball it caused surprising trouble for the shocked defender who must have been relieved when he kicked it backwards to fly inches over the bar...just! More Heys pressure followed, their No 6 (Djenny Bembo) was in, a fine nut goalward came and although the goalkeeper was a trifle late off the mark he did the job in hand and kept us as we were. Hallam responded with some fine interplay that was rounded off by their effective No 8 (Sam Fewkes) who shot low but only found the keepers midriff. Despite the wretched conditions both teams were determined to play their own brand of football and tried their hardest to avoid the basic long ball game, which as a matter of point, may have proved beneficial in the said downpour. The game got back on an even keel, Abbey Hey fought against the tide (literally) and created the odd half chance but nothing outrageous of note came from the murk.
The next highlight came when the visiting No 10 (Andrew Fox) let loose a stunning ball that allowed his teammate to flash over a low-lasered cross - alas no connection was made. Heys came right back but the Hallam defensive line was on form tonight with No 3 (Alex Brown) and No 5 (Tom Cropper) doing some eye-catching work as well as several other hard working bods. The home team though were exhibiting disciplined patience but Hallam were getting toes to every through pass and out of sheer frustration the home No 10 (George Noon) fired in a 25 yard blisterer. It was a grand effort but not grand enough to call the keeper into action. No 7 (Daniel State) came at the other end, he tried something similar but it had too much elevation and disappeared into the filthy night. The game plodded on with both teams grunting and grinding (the dirty tinkers) with Hallam's Fewkes having a late punt that produced a ruddy fantastic save by the home keeper who defied the attack with a quick reactive one handed stop. Great work and a fitting moment on which to finalise the first period.
The break was spent wagging the jaw with a fellow non-league tootler and enjoying a much needed chocolate bar. It is always nice to share details of one's footballing wanderings, it keeps the enthusiasm upheld. The rain still poured, the teams came out, they had my deepest sympathies.
The same pattern developed as seen throughout the first half, lots of midfield bluster just no final cracks found. Alex Brown for The Heys had an early effort that was a mere finger warmer for the opposing mitter and then, from nowhere, No 9 (Rhys Webb) was through on goal. This could easily have been the first fracture of a very resistant defence but the touch was terrible and the chance passed with no further contemplation. Daniel State at the other end had a quick shot in response, the save was regulation and, by this stage, expected. Abbey Hey came again, the hard working Bembo zipped a superb cross-field ball to his colleague who immediately knocked one into the box for Webb to head onward - it was just off target. Hallam, as was the nature of the game, came back. Cropper shot at a sharp angle to test the keeper and moments later the Captain No 9 (Chris Wood), dinked a cross in for No 17 to fire off the mark. We were getting closer to that much sought after opening goal. Hey now rushed hard, No 4 (Lee Wilshaw) did some admirable chasing that led to a move that saw No 8 (Sam Wreakes) eventually pull the trigger - a good save was the result. From here a messy passage of play followed and the rain fell with gusto.
With a seeming stalemate set Hallam made a brace of substitutions. One of the new lads had a peek at goal and only had the keeper to beat - alas the ball was blazed wide. A coming together came next, a 50/50 ball was up for grabs and the Heys No 1 (Elliot Wynne) and a rushing striker threw themselves into the lottery. The two men clattered, the ball was loose, the goalkeeper had taken a mighty crack, game on hold. The injured man was seen to and got up to realise a certain madness had ensued. The ball had been retrieved and was waiting on the penalty spot, an award had been granted to the visitors and no-one, including players and punters, seemed to know what was happening. Up stepped Daniel State, thumped the ball home and we now had a game on our hands. The ref, the only one in the know, was branded a 'Dickhead' and a 'Bald Twat' and the travelling goalkeeper was referred to as a Tellytubby due to his yellow kit and general dawdling. From here Hey threw themselves forth, but it was Hallam's Wood who had the next chance and could have buried the game but, after using good strength, he could only fire the ball into the keepers awaiting arms. Time ticked, Abbey Hey bobbed and weaved but no killer punch was landed and Hallam safely tucked up and absorb everything the hosts could throw at them. The game came to an end, one team looked distraught, the other chuffed to bits - yes the hand of fate is a crooked thing and who knows what cards it will play and whose spirit it shall break. For me all players deserved a pat on the back tonight as do the officials who got off their arses and made sure we, the curious public, were entertained. Man of the Match however goes to Hallam's No 2 (Charlie Myers) who was absolutely determined in defense, offered himself as a viable option throughout and threw himself around with convicted belief. You can't beat a good defensive stint, this was a prime example.
FINAL THOUGHT - One for the purists tonight and the appreciators of those willing to shovel shit when the pile keeps getting higher. The night was abysmal but we got a game and out of two perfectly matched teams it was a dubious decision that made the difference. Abbey Hey play some attractive football at times but just need to sharpen up that killer edge and never be afraid of taking that final plunge - be it a quick snap shot or a swift chancy pass. Hallam are a tough nut to crack and if teams leave their footballing dentures at home they could find themselves sucking on the wrong end of a result and contemplating where it all went wrong. Time and time again it is proven that at this, and any other level, the first line of attack is the back line - a paradox it seems, but very, very true. As in the great words of the Shakespearian homosexual Frederick le Slack 'If one doth avoid penetration, one doth avoid pain' - a wise man indeed.
The first half began with both units attempting to play some on the deck football which brought about an initial chance for the guests that dissolved into nothing more than a minor warning. The Heys repaid the threat with a chance of their own when a glorious cross was hoofed in. Although the in-coming head of a striker missed the ball it caused surprising trouble for the shocked defender who must have been relieved when he kicked it backwards to fly inches over the bar...just! More Heys pressure followed, their No 6 (Djenny Bembo) was in, a fine nut goalward came and although the goalkeeper was a trifle late off the mark he did the job in hand and kept us as we were. Hallam responded with some fine interplay that was rounded off by their effective No 8 (Sam Fewkes) who shot low but only found the keepers midriff. Despite the wretched conditions both teams were determined to play their own brand of football and tried their hardest to avoid the basic long ball game, which as a matter of point, may have proved beneficial in the said downpour. The game got back on an even keel, Abbey Hey fought against the tide (literally) and created the odd half chance but nothing outrageous of note came from the murk.
The next highlight came when the visiting No 10 (Andrew Fox) let loose a stunning ball that allowed his teammate to flash over a low-lasered cross - alas no connection was made. Heys came right back but the Hallam defensive line was on form tonight with No 3 (Alex Brown) and No 5 (Tom Cropper) doing some eye-catching work as well as several other hard working bods. The home team though were exhibiting disciplined patience but Hallam were getting toes to every through pass and out of sheer frustration the home No 10 (George Noon) fired in a 25 yard blisterer. It was a grand effort but not grand enough to call the keeper into action. No 7 (Daniel State) came at the other end, he tried something similar but it had too much elevation and disappeared into the filthy night. The game plodded on with both teams grunting and grinding (the dirty tinkers) with Hallam's Fewkes having a late punt that produced a ruddy fantastic save by the home keeper who defied the attack with a quick reactive one handed stop. Great work and a fitting moment on which to finalise the first period.
The break was spent wagging the jaw with a fellow non-league tootler and enjoying a much needed chocolate bar. It is always nice to share details of one's footballing wanderings, it keeps the enthusiasm upheld. The rain still poured, the teams came out, they had my deepest sympathies.
The same pattern developed as seen throughout the first half, lots of midfield bluster just no final cracks found. Alex Brown for The Heys had an early effort that was a mere finger warmer for the opposing mitter and then, from nowhere, No 9 (Rhys Webb) was through on goal. This could easily have been the first fracture of a very resistant defence but the touch was terrible and the chance passed with no further contemplation. Daniel State at the other end had a quick shot in response, the save was regulation and, by this stage, expected. Abbey Hey came again, the hard working Bembo zipped a superb cross-field ball to his colleague who immediately knocked one into the box for Webb to head onward - it was just off target. Hallam, as was the nature of the game, came back. Cropper shot at a sharp angle to test the keeper and moments later the Captain No 9 (Chris Wood), dinked a cross in for No 17 to fire off the mark. We were getting closer to that much sought after opening goal. Hey now rushed hard, No 4 (Lee Wilshaw) did some admirable chasing that led to a move that saw No 8 (Sam Wreakes) eventually pull the trigger - a good save was the result. From here a messy passage of play followed and the rain fell with gusto.
With a seeming stalemate set Hallam made a brace of substitutions. One of the new lads had a peek at goal and only had the keeper to beat - alas the ball was blazed wide. A coming together came next, a 50/50 ball was up for grabs and the Heys No 1 (Elliot Wynne) and a rushing striker threw themselves into the lottery. The two men clattered, the ball was loose, the goalkeeper had taken a mighty crack, game on hold. The injured man was seen to and got up to realise a certain madness had ensued. The ball had been retrieved and was waiting on the penalty spot, an award had been granted to the visitors and no-one, including players and punters, seemed to know what was happening. Up stepped Daniel State, thumped the ball home and we now had a game on our hands. The ref, the only one in the know, was branded a 'Dickhead' and a 'Bald Twat' and the travelling goalkeeper was referred to as a Tellytubby due to his yellow kit and general dawdling. From here Hey threw themselves forth, but it was Hallam's Wood who had the next chance and could have buried the game but, after using good strength, he could only fire the ball into the keepers awaiting arms. Time ticked, Abbey Hey bobbed and weaved but no killer punch was landed and Hallam safely tucked up and absorb everything the hosts could throw at them. The game came to an end, one team looked distraught, the other chuffed to bits - yes the hand of fate is a crooked thing and who knows what cards it will play and whose spirit it shall break. For me all players deserved a pat on the back tonight as do the officials who got off their arses and made sure we, the curious public, were entertained. Man of the Match however goes to Hallam's No 2 (Charlie Myers) who was absolutely determined in defense, offered himself as a viable option throughout and threw himself around with convicted belief. You can't beat a good defensive stint, this was a prime example.
FINAL THOUGHT - One for the purists tonight and the appreciators of those willing to shovel shit when the pile keeps getting higher. The night was abysmal but we got a game and out of two perfectly matched teams it was a dubious decision that made the difference. Abbey Hey play some attractive football at times but just need to sharpen up that killer edge and never be afraid of taking that final plunge - be it a quick snap shot or a swift chancy pass. Hallam are a tough nut to crack and if teams leave their footballing dentures at home they could find themselves sucking on the wrong end of a result and contemplating where it all went wrong. Time and time again it is proven that at this, and any other level, the first line of attack is the back line - a paradox it seems, but very, very true. As in the great words of the Shakespearian homosexual Frederick le Slack 'If one doth avoid penetration, one doth avoid pain' - a wise man indeed.
Sunday, 10 September 2017
RESISTANCE AND PERSISTENCE WINS THE DAY
9th September 2017 - Widnes FC 1 v 2 Glasshoughton Welfare - Having finished the previous nights report I spent the rest of the morn hoovering and cleaning the kitchen whilst my good lady took her Mum shopping and my daughter went into Manc Land to get her eyebrows done. After 4 chicken thighs for dinner I got sorted and me and my good lady hit the road. Paul Gambaccini played his all-time top ten on the radio and I had a read of 'Wall of Pain', an autobiography of Phil Spector. A few wrong turns due to road works and a roundabout detour we made the ground in good time and indulged in tea and crisps and the tackling of a cryptic crossword. We were 3 clues short of completion when the teams came out. 8 across 'Mick McManus has a dirty ringpiece' - 4 letters, begins with 'A' and ends in 'S'.
The game began, early possession was primarily at the feet of Widnes with a slow patient style leading to the first early shot. It brought no danger and sailed harmlessly over. Glasshoughton came back with a free-kick, No 8 (Connor Glavin) knocked the globe to No 9 (Andrew Horbury) who executed a tame header that was on target and settled initial nerves. Widnes though seemed in charge and were using the ball better and a surging run into the box by No 10 (Andrew Gillespie) indicated they had players willing to attack with strength and indeed spirit. Somehow though, out of the early dominance, Glasshoughton won a free-kick. Glavin delivered, Horbury rose, the first goal came against the tide with only 11 minutes on the clock. Widnes now tried to build slowly from the back, they were looking to strike like an electric cobra rather than a battery operated trouser snake and, when a free-kick was won and a brace of balls flew into the box, a certain danger was generated but the travelling team stood firm and cleared their ranks. At the other end another bonus punt was awarded and when played in another free header was had by a rising No 5 (Andrew McManus). The ball was way off target and Widnes needed to learn a defensive lesson.
Next up and the home bods put the ball in, a defensive head put it wide and the corner that followed was not up to scratch. A Glasshoughton free-kick resulted in the No 2 (Jack Graham) for Widnes blazing a breakaway. His pass was spot on but somehow the front man Gillespie just couldn't control the ball and the chance became a fleeting memory. As the half progressed Widnes got ragged and wound up due to the brick wall that was Glasshoughton Welfare, a team rigidly organised and drilled in their entire duties. A long range shot from the host's No 11 (Christopher Lomax) summed up the irritation and it was not going to be the way to get back into this one. The guests made late surges, a corner was won due to a 'never say die' attitude, it is a pity the ball in was crap and the mittman captured with ease. The ref blew, this was still all to play for.
We wandered for a piddle and a cuppa and returned to our seats. We reckoned this one would go to the wire, we weren't far wrong.
The visitors were out and at it, a snap-shot from No 10 (Ryan Poskitt) was easily saved and this was repaid by a cross at the other end that saw Lomax rise and nut over. Keen stuff indeed and from here the Widnes crew started to apply a decent amount of pressure but all the while Glasshoughton used Horbury as a targeted release valve that started to really niggle one or two home turf heads. No matter what the Select Stadium residents threw at their opponents The Hoops responded with solid structure and hard graft. Widnes came on again, an angled pass and a lofted cross was neatly done, the nut of No 3 (Alex Davies) was firm, downward and...wide. It should have at least been on target. A pause in play saw Widnes make a sub before the ball was back in, hoofed from one side to the next and then crossed into the perilous zone where Gillespie rose and produced a glancing header that was enough to level the contest. Now the game was really on, the ex-Dragons were snorting fire, would the Welfare's resistance hold true?
A fine passage of play came next with Widnes seeing their No 11 finalise the sequence with a poor crack at goal. A moment of inspiration was needed, not a hopeful blast! The animation levels grew on and off the pitch, a frenzied period ensued, one that all footballing perverts truly relish. A brace of corners came the way of the home lads, the second saw a loose ball fall at the feet of their No 5 (Micheal Burke). He hammered a shot but the keeper was equal to it and saved with regular ease. From here Widnes hustled and eventually won a corner. The thrower took too much time it seemed and the ball was given to the other side. The ball was chucked a distance by the No 11 (Tom Carr), a nut rose, by heck it was 1 - 2 and controversy reined supreme. The grabber of golden glory was Andrew McManus, he looked rather pleased with himself. From here, with only a couple of minutes left Widnes tried mighty hard to grab a straw of salvation, it didn't happen, the game had gone and it was time for some serious questions. We both enjoyed this one, being neutral is a good stance to take and after much mulling I am giving the Man of the Match award to The Welfare's No 5 (Andrew McManus) who was tidily effective, non-too over elaborate and held good discipline throughout. The winning goal was a cherry on top, one he can enjoy the flavour of whilst contemplating a good days work. And why not! We headed out after the game and congratulated one of the winning players who, still sweating and clad in his kit, was enjoying a quiet fag - you bloody deserved it mate!
FINAL THOUGHT - This was a clash of styles with discipline, resistance and persistance winning the day. I thought Widnes played well but just seemed to run out of options when getting into the last third of the pitch whereas Glasshoughton Welfare did nothing exceptional but maintain a ruddy good consistency throughout and worked their gonads off. These cup matches are a real treat, you just never know what will happen and glancing through many of the days other result some real outlandish scorelines were had. Agree or disagree but I think this level of football is just ideal and I'll continue my wanderings with incessant fervour. Widnes will be getting plenty more visits from us and I reckon a tootle over the Pennines to the home of today's victors would be worth a go - tis all food for the football fan. Oh the crossword, we gave up on the aforementioned clue but sussed out 12 down - 'King Lear gets upset and believes non-league football is this' - 4 letters and begins with 'R' - can you guess?
The game began, early possession was primarily at the feet of Widnes with a slow patient style leading to the first early shot. It brought no danger and sailed harmlessly over. Glasshoughton came back with a free-kick, No 8 (Connor Glavin) knocked the globe to No 9 (Andrew Horbury) who executed a tame header that was on target and settled initial nerves. Widnes though seemed in charge and were using the ball better and a surging run into the box by No 10 (Andrew Gillespie) indicated they had players willing to attack with strength and indeed spirit. Somehow though, out of the early dominance, Glasshoughton won a free-kick. Glavin delivered, Horbury rose, the first goal came against the tide with only 11 minutes on the clock. Widnes now tried to build slowly from the back, they were looking to strike like an electric cobra rather than a battery operated trouser snake and, when a free-kick was won and a brace of balls flew into the box, a certain danger was generated but the travelling team stood firm and cleared their ranks. At the other end another bonus punt was awarded and when played in another free header was had by a rising No 5 (Andrew McManus). The ball was way off target and Widnes needed to learn a defensive lesson.
Next up and the home bods put the ball in, a defensive head put it wide and the corner that followed was not up to scratch. A Glasshoughton free-kick resulted in the No 2 (Jack Graham) for Widnes blazing a breakaway. His pass was spot on but somehow the front man Gillespie just couldn't control the ball and the chance became a fleeting memory. As the half progressed Widnes got ragged and wound up due to the brick wall that was Glasshoughton Welfare, a team rigidly organised and drilled in their entire duties. A long range shot from the host's No 11 (Christopher Lomax) summed up the irritation and it was not going to be the way to get back into this one. The guests made late surges, a corner was won due to a 'never say die' attitude, it is a pity the ball in was crap and the mittman captured with ease. The ref blew, this was still all to play for.
We wandered for a piddle and a cuppa and returned to our seats. We reckoned this one would go to the wire, we weren't far wrong.
The visitors were out and at it, a snap-shot from No 10 (Ryan Poskitt) was easily saved and this was repaid by a cross at the other end that saw Lomax rise and nut over. Keen stuff indeed and from here the Widnes crew started to apply a decent amount of pressure but all the while Glasshoughton used Horbury as a targeted release valve that started to really niggle one or two home turf heads. No matter what the Select Stadium residents threw at their opponents The Hoops responded with solid structure and hard graft. Widnes came on again, an angled pass and a lofted cross was neatly done, the nut of No 3 (Alex Davies) was firm, downward and...wide. It should have at least been on target. A pause in play saw Widnes make a sub before the ball was back in, hoofed from one side to the next and then crossed into the perilous zone where Gillespie rose and produced a glancing header that was enough to level the contest. Now the game was really on, the ex-Dragons were snorting fire, would the Welfare's resistance hold true?
A fine passage of play came next with Widnes seeing their No 11 finalise the sequence with a poor crack at goal. A moment of inspiration was needed, not a hopeful blast! The animation levels grew on and off the pitch, a frenzied period ensued, one that all footballing perverts truly relish. A brace of corners came the way of the home lads, the second saw a loose ball fall at the feet of their No 5 (Micheal Burke). He hammered a shot but the keeper was equal to it and saved with regular ease. From here Widnes hustled and eventually won a corner. The thrower took too much time it seemed and the ball was given to the other side. The ball was chucked a distance by the No 11 (Tom Carr), a nut rose, by heck it was 1 - 2 and controversy reined supreme. The grabber of golden glory was Andrew McManus, he looked rather pleased with himself. From here, with only a couple of minutes left Widnes tried mighty hard to grab a straw of salvation, it didn't happen, the game had gone and it was time for some serious questions. We both enjoyed this one, being neutral is a good stance to take and after much mulling I am giving the Man of the Match award to The Welfare's No 5 (Andrew McManus) who was tidily effective, non-too over elaborate and held good discipline throughout. The winning goal was a cherry on top, one he can enjoy the flavour of whilst contemplating a good days work. And why not! We headed out after the game and congratulated one of the winning players who, still sweating and clad in his kit, was enjoying a quiet fag - you bloody deserved it mate!
FINAL THOUGHT - This was a clash of styles with discipline, resistance and persistance winning the day. I thought Widnes played well but just seemed to run out of options when getting into the last third of the pitch whereas Glasshoughton Welfare did nothing exceptional but maintain a ruddy good consistency throughout and worked their gonads off. These cup matches are a real treat, you just never know what will happen and glancing through many of the days other result some real outlandish scorelines were had. Agree or disagree but I think this level of football is just ideal and I'll continue my wanderings with incessant fervour. Widnes will be getting plenty more visits from us and I reckon a tootle over the Pennines to the home of today's victors would be worth a go - tis all food for the football fan. Oh the crossword, we gave up on the aforementioned clue but sussed out 12 down - 'King Lear gets upset and believes non-league football is this' - 4 letters and begins with 'R' - can you guess?
Saturday, 9 September 2017
THE LION'S PRIDE WILL NOT BE DENIED
8th September 2017 - Northwich Victoria 3 v 4 Stockport Town - A busy period of footballing fixes continued with an end of week jaunt down to Townfield to watch 2 North West Counties clubs take part in the 1st qualifying round of the Buildbase FA Vase. The weather forecast was swung towards the side of 'wank' but after a defiant sunny afternoon hopes were high of a clement climate gracing our pitchside presence. We set off early due to the nature of the potentially constipated roadways and with my wife at the wheel and my skanky nattering away, we arrived at the ground in pretty decent time. A cup of tea and a chip nibble were indulged in as we sat and nattered and perused the events programme. I had been starved of many goals of late with several encounters being shy of net rippling action - would tonight alter this trend?
The teams entered, the black laden man of authority blew, the match began. Early possession was had by the visiting pack with a searching cross in that was nutted by a zealous bod (Tyler Devlin) who only found the side netting. The Vics came back with their whizzing No 11 (Sam Marshall) winning a throw in which was duly tossed to No 10 (Brian Matthews) who sent in a cross that found No 9's (Yaw Gyimah) crust but again, the ball was off target. A good flourish came from the hosts, Gyimah connected with a corner but blasted over, sending a warning out to any low flying owls - beware oh feathered hunters, there's a loose foot about! The counterpunch at the other end was a free-kick that No 9 (Ben Halfacre) duly struck, what a ruddy stinker it turned out to be and I apologise to anyone who witnessed this for rekindling these terrible memories. A fast break came the Trickies way, a brace of stunning balls saw Marshall go on a forward surge and break free. He picked his spot and let fly, the ball was disappointingly dragged wide of the far post but, this was the best chance thus far in a quite captivating contest.
As the home squad looked to be taking charge they switched off in several areas, the Lions came down the flanks, a fine cross followed and Tyler Edwards popped up at the back post and side-foot volleyed between the uprights - 0-1 and what a dazzling goal. Moments later another cross came, Edwards again was the recipient, crikey he was mighty unlucky not to double his own, and his teams tally. A laser free-kick was given in return, the slightest epidermal layer of a rising bonse made contact, the ball continued its trajectory and it was with great disappointment that the in-rushing No 4 (Conor Downes) didn't make contact at the last and get this game back to parity. Despite being primarily on the back foot the NV crew were running well and having the odd glimpse of goal but the final assassins touch was lacking and a few decisions by the ref were not falling their way. Take nothing away from The Lions though, this was a great stint and moments after contemplating their applaudable labour another fine chance was cultivated but No 10 (James Hinchcliffe) was over generous with his hoof and sent the ball just above the bar. I expected the next strike to come the visitors way but NV reversed the pressure and after No 10 (Brain Matthews) had a wild swing fly high and Gyimah was just stopped from sneaking in and pinching glory the latter player caused havoc in the box and was given the equalising goal although I am sure it was an own goaI. I best get these ruddy bins back to the opticians, shite, my willy may be smaller than I think!
This was cracking action with both units hammering away and late in the half, a good long ball found Vic's No 10, who sadly rushed his effort and struck wide just squandering the chance to go into the break 1 goal to the good. A streaking response came via the blazing pegs of Town's Conor Downes, the run was indicative of a man possessed and when he unleashed a shot one expected the net to burst into flames and merry celebratory Hell to follow. Alas the rotten sod fired right across goal. What a shame! The ref blew to end a belting game and we two observers tootled off for a crucial brew.
We slurped our tea and moved to the opposite side of the ground with a few travelling stalwarts who watched the Heaven's open and a damn awful deluge pour forth. The teams came back out into the filthy weather (tis good for the soul lads) and the game recommenced.
As in the first half the early pressure came from The Town, No 11 (Ruben Abreu) was a constant slippery menace but the first chance came the way of Halfacre who got his lofted bonse on a cross ball from Downes but was too charitable with the contact and the ensuing save was all too easy. The Lions were hunting in a pack now, sterling work and all uphill and into the drifting needles of rain. No 7 (Matty Clarke) had the next punt that was deflected wide but, from a good corner the defensive doofers were found dozing and Andrew Fitzgerald wandered in at his leisure and tupped home to bring up a very justified lead. Again the guests came, with Abreu on fire and duly dinking, dribbling and causing all kinds of rear end consternation (no, that is not a sexual complaint) for the home birds. Northwich Victoria had to call on sunken reservoirs of resistance, they did, Joshua Kavanagh connected after some good edge-of-box movement - he was denied by a top drawer save. Good work mittman.
The hunger of the Stockport team was insatiable but the Vics snuck in a corner and cultivated some goalmouth chaos, the ball was cleared and a rapid break came. Abreu was involved again and the ball eventually fell to Aaron Dwyer who struck into the far corner and added icing to an already well-filled cake. A flashing strike, a deserved scoreline, what a performance. Northwich Victoria were now in the realms of shit or bust, in desire we trust Stockport were irresistible tonight and their whole attitude was exemplified when Tyler Edwards ran the flanks, cut in, bobbed, weaved, dazzled and deceived and wouldn't give up the chase. He nearly made it to goal laden Utopia but was denied by two huffing defenders who breathed a sigh of relief to see the trouble quelled - stunning effort. Suddenly we had a delay, a niggling injury and some backchat. Out of the respite a flashing run came, the Lions came in a tidal wave and Dwyer eventually lashed out with a shot. A deflection was had, the ball looped and over the keepers head it dropped - the scoreline was now 4 - 1 - all pre-match predictions were surely ruined. The hosts now strove to address the embarrassment, a shot by No 5 (Reece Lyndon) produced another top drawer save but seconds later the same keeper was beaten by a spot kick after the ball was put in again, the post was clanged and a handball came. Brian Matthews stepped up and converted the penalty with ease. Another great ball was thrown in by the NV machine, Matthews was through, The Towns No 1 denied him a strike, now that was crucial. Up until the last both teams drove on but a late cross for the Trickies saw Olly Walker thwack in a firm header and give the scoreline a somewhat deceptive feel. The dying embers of the match were frantic but Stockport indulged in good game management and met the final whistle worthy victors - what a fine spectacle this had been.
Earlier in the week I had witnessed Stockport Town lose a 1 - 0 shocker in what I deemed the worst match of the season thus far. Tonight I saw them put in the best team performance of the campaign to date and win a quite entertaining affair. I think the creation of Robert Louis Stevenson may have some competition here and my advice to Stockport is just to make sure you get the pre-match potion just right. Man of the Match could go to anyone from the visiting team but I was mightily impressed by the efficiency, work rate and defensive stubbornness of their No 3 (Izzy Miranda) who played the game with head down, good spirit and a focused honesty not to be underestimated - have a cup of tea on me mate! Myself and my good lady headed homeward in the rank weather but it would take a lot more than some measly rain to mar the memories of a quite gratifying cup-tie. Cheers to all involved.
FINAL THOUGHT - Northwich Victoria have some good players in their mix and one or two with pace aplenty and a real spirited desire. Tonight though they came upon a team inspired and were, if the truth be known, simply ran into the ground by a well-versed and athletic Stockport Town squad who were 'up for it'. Both teams will do OK though and as the season unfolds I think will be in close company as regards the end points tally. Tonight's exhibition was worth the Friday night effort and I reckon all those who are wasting good time and money on the premiership fiasco over the coming weekend are totally misguided. This is 'man in the street' football, still at a level of honesty and not pissing in the face of the punter with corrupt capitalism and hero-addling affectation. My advice, get out and get real - for the cost of a couple of pints you can witness something quite worthy going on - and what better way to escape the stresses of everyday life. Up the underdogs I say, be it punk rock, the natural world or in the football basin - DIY is the way.
The teams entered, the black laden man of authority blew, the match began. Early possession was had by the visiting pack with a searching cross in that was nutted by a zealous bod (Tyler Devlin) who only found the side netting. The Vics came back with their whizzing No 11 (Sam Marshall) winning a throw in which was duly tossed to No 10 (Brian Matthews) who sent in a cross that found No 9's (Yaw Gyimah) crust but again, the ball was off target. A good flourish came from the hosts, Gyimah connected with a corner but blasted over, sending a warning out to any low flying owls - beware oh feathered hunters, there's a loose foot about! The counterpunch at the other end was a free-kick that No 9 (Ben Halfacre) duly struck, what a ruddy stinker it turned out to be and I apologise to anyone who witnessed this for rekindling these terrible memories. A fast break came the Trickies way, a brace of stunning balls saw Marshall go on a forward surge and break free. He picked his spot and let fly, the ball was disappointingly dragged wide of the far post but, this was the best chance thus far in a quite captivating contest.
As the home squad looked to be taking charge they switched off in several areas, the Lions came down the flanks, a fine cross followed and Tyler Edwards popped up at the back post and side-foot volleyed between the uprights - 0-1 and what a dazzling goal. Moments later another cross came, Edwards again was the recipient, crikey he was mighty unlucky not to double his own, and his teams tally. A laser free-kick was given in return, the slightest epidermal layer of a rising bonse made contact, the ball continued its trajectory and it was with great disappointment that the in-rushing No 4 (Conor Downes) didn't make contact at the last and get this game back to parity. Despite being primarily on the back foot the NV crew were running well and having the odd glimpse of goal but the final assassins touch was lacking and a few decisions by the ref were not falling their way. Take nothing away from The Lions though, this was a great stint and moments after contemplating their applaudable labour another fine chance was cultivated but No 10 (James Hinchcliffe) was over generous with his hoof and sent the ball just above the bar. I expected the next strike to come the visitors way but NV reversed the pressure and after No 10 (Brain Matthews) had a wild swing fly high and Gyimah was just stopped from sneaking in and pinching glory the latter player caused havoc in the box and was given the equalising goal although I am sure it was an own goaI. I best get these ruddy bins back to the opticians, shite, my willy may be smaller than I think!
This was cracking action with both units hammering away and late in the half, a good long ball found Vic's No 10, who sadly rushed his effort and struck wide just squandering the chance to go into the break 1 goal to the good. A streaking response came via the blazing pegs of Town's Conor Downes, the run was indicative of a man possessed and when he unleashed a shot one expected the net to burst into flames and merry celebratory Hell to follow. Alas the rotten sod fired right across goal. What a shame! The ref blew to end a belting game and we two observers tootled off for a crucial brew.
We slurped our tea and moved to the opposite side of the ground with a few travelling stalwarts who watched the Heaven's open and a damn awful deluge pour forth. The teams came back out into the filthy weather (tis good for the soul lads) and the game recommenced.
As in the first half the early pressure came from The Town, No 11 (Ruben Abreu) was a constant slippery menace but the first chance came the way of Halfacre who got his lofted bonse on a cross ball from Downes but was too charitable with the contact and the ensuing save was all too easy. The Lions were hunting in a pack now, sterling work and all uphill and into the drifting needles of rain. No 7 (Matty Clarke) had the next punt that was deflected wide but, from a good corner the defensive doofers were found dozing and Andrew Fitzgerald wandered in at his leisure and tupped home to bring up a very justified lead. Again the guests came, with Abreu on fire and duly dinking, dribbling and causing all kinds of rear end consternation (no, that is not a sexual complaint) for the home birds. Northwich Victoria had to call on sunken reservoirs of resistance, they did, Joshua Kavanagh connected after some good edge-of-box movement - he was denied by a top drawer save. Good work mittman.
The hunger of the Stockport team was insatiable but the Vics snuck in a corner and cultivated some goalmouth chaos, the ball was cleared and a rapid break came. Abreu was involved again and the ball eventually fell to Aaron Dwyer who struck into the far corner and added icing to an already well-filled cake. A flashing strike, a deserved scoreline, what a performance. Northwich Victoria were now in the realms of shit or bust, in desire we trust Stockport were irresistible tonight and their whole attitude was exemplified when Tyler Edwards ran the flanks, cut in, bobbed, weaved, dazzled and deceived and wouldn't give up the chase. He nearly made it to goal laden Utopia but was denied by two huffing defenders who breathed a sigh of relief to see the trouble quelled - stunning effort. Suddenly we had a delay, a niggling injury and some backchat. Out of the respite a flashing run came, the Lions came in a tidal wave and Dwyer eventually lashed out with a shot. A deflection was had, the ball looped and over the keepers head it dropped - the scoreline was now 4 - 1 - all pre-match predictions were surely ruined. The hosts now strove to address the embarrassment, a shot by No 5 (Reece Lyndon) produced another top drawer save but seconds later the same keeper was beaten by a spot kick after the ball was put in again, the post was clanged and a handball came. Brian Matthews stepped up and converted the penalty with ease. Another great ball was thrown in by the NV machine, Matthews was through, The Towns No 1 denied him a strike, now that was crucial. Up until the last both teams drove on but a late cross for the Trickies saw Olly Walker thwack in a firm header and give the scoreline a somewhat deceptive feel. The dying embers of the match were frantic but Stockport indulged in good game management and met the final whistle worthy victors - what a fine spectacle this had been.
Earlier in the week I had witnessed Stockport Town lose a 1 - 0 shocker in what I deemed the worst match of the season thus far. Tonight I saw them put in the best team performance of the campaign to date and win a quite entertaining affair. I think the creation of Robert Louis Stevenson may have some competition here and my advice to Stockport is just to make sure you get the pre-match potion just right. Man of the Match could go to anyone from the visiting team but I was mightily impressed by the efficiency, work rate and defensive stubbornness of their No 3 (Izzy Miranda) who played the game with head down, good spirit and a focused honesty not to be underestimated - have a cup of tea on me mate! Myself and my good lady headed homeward in the rank weather but it would take a lot more than some measly rain to mar the memories of a quite gratifying cup-tie. Cheers to all involved.
FINAL THOUGHT - Northwich Victoria have some good players in their mix and one or two with pace aplenty and a real spirited desire. Tonight though they came upon a team inspired and were, if the truth be known, simply ran into the ground by a well-versed and athletic Stockport Town squad who were 'up for it'. Both teams will do OK though and as the season unfolds I think will be in close company as regards the end points tally. Tonight's exhibition was worth the Friday night effort and I reckon all those who are wasting good time and money on the premiership fiasco over the coming weekend are totally misguided. This is 'man in the street' football, still at a level of honesty and not pissing in the face of the punter with corrupt capitalism and hero-addling affectation. My advice, get out and get real - for the cost of a couple of pints you can witness something quite worthy going on - and what better way to escape the stresses of everyday life. Up the underdogs I say, be it punk rock, the natural world or in the football basin - DIY is the way.
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