RAMMY DAMMY DING DONG

7th November 2017 - Ramsbottom United  3 v 0 Stalybridge Celtic - I once had an incident with a Ram's Bottom, it was during a stay at Farmer Ducklove's Farm of Erotic Therapy in a tucked away cranny in the wilds of Wales.  I was in a field, the wind whipped up and my trousers blew off.  The farmer's wife had fed me some steroid based eggs for breakfast, I found myself in a state of uncontrollable arousal when my eyes were attracted to a rather attractive woolly rear end, I could reveal more, I shall be decent and leave the rest up to 'ewe', besides I would hate to be lambasted in public for a crime beyond my control - I was drugged I tell ya, drugged. Anyway tonight myself and my good lady expected no repeat performance of the ovine incident and headed to the game full of high hopes and no 'baa'd' feelings.  This had better be a good un', although for a kind free entry gesture I would be a vulgar pig to find fault.  The game commenced, here is what transpired.

Disclaimer - I was gasbagging throughout this match, I only made note of the pertinent points, here is an abridged account of an affair that was quite flat and with very little in the way of competition - if it does not suffice blame Mr Stephen Gaskell of Ramsbottom for his jaw-wagging attributes.  The first half flopped before our peepers and saw the home brigade very much in the ascendancy.  Sharper, hungrier and with an all-round compactness, The Rams kept the Stalybridge Squad on the back foot and try as they might, the guests could only muster the odd glimpse of light.  We had only just settled, my mate and his missus turned up and started to molest my framework (well he did and, may I add, in a most jovial and decent way, none of that sexual nonsense you know) and whilst in the clutches of his welcome I saw Ramsbottom’s No 8 (Eddie Moran) fire in an absolute screamer that left the goalkeeper sprawling with no hope.  It was a start that set the touch-paper, unfortunately some bugger jumped on it and we didn’t get the fireworks expected.  Next and No 11 (Ben Richardson) showed pace, the ball was released, No 7 (Tom Williams) was through, alas the touch was dreadful and a glorious chance had disappeared into the ether. The game stuttered on, and after a quick response shot flew high into the Heavens, there was little else to report. All the while Rammy were dictating the play and it didn’t seem long before they would cultivate another chance.  No 11 (Ben Richardson), was the man on a mission, running this way and that and when he found himself on the wing, cutting in and rasping in a cross cum shot I think even he was a trifle surprised to see the second goal on the card.  Was it an own goal or was he claiming it – the cheeky bugger.  Seconds later No 9 (Sam Heathcote) was in the box, he turned on a midget’s nipple and fired.  The shot was like another Midget’s aroused member – low and firm, it missed the target.  The minutes ticked by, there was little else to report – 1 minute of extra time and done, time to evacuate some liquid gold. To add to the opening assessment, a Stalybridge supporter summed up his sides showing prior to the break, 'Piss poor isn't the word', he spat out, who am I to argue! 

I piddled rather than diddled, myself and my good lady had a slurp of ginger and opened our ‘Golden Goal’ – ruddy rotten git, 79 minutes, not even close – oh one of these days the dosh will be mine.  Our friends had gone for a drink and duly reappeared – we discussed many things throughout the half, forgive my terse account of what transpired – tonight old times, horror films, noise and mischievousness were the order of the day.

The second half was a drudgy affair with hard pressure in midfield leading to an overall suppression of excitement.  The onlookers seemed to be in need of a high but these were few and far between as the visitors got a firmer foot in the arse of proceedings but failed to really rattle the bollocks of their opponents.  Huff and puff the teams went, the damp turf underground assisted the quick pace of the game but overall the shooting sights were impeded and what we got was an affair of limited chances.  The first and only breakthrough of this second period came on the 71^st minute when, after rising pressure the Ram’s No  14 (Jerome Wright) dinked a defender and swept the ball home to bring up a secure 3 – 0 scoreline that seemed to be under no threat whatsoever.  The rest of the half was low on nipple-firming action but two laser-like strikes from Stalybridge were hammered through a pack of defensive bodies and forced the home No 1 (Danny Taberner) to make 2 quite outstanding saves – in fact the way the ball flew and the keeper flung himself was comic book stuff that Roy Race would be proud to put his name against, although I suspect in those fantastical realms the keepers arms would have been busted and the net set to flames as the ball hurtled home.  The referee ended the encounter and despite a couple of Stalybridge bods running themselves into the ground the team were out of sync tonight and even luck would not smile upon their perspiring heads.  Man of the Match must go to The Ram’s No 1 (Danny Taberner) who was tidy and efficient throughout (despite one minor blip) and on two aforementioned moments was outstanding – a clean sheet is always noteworthy too, good on ya chap.

FINAL THOUGHT - This wasn't the greatest match and was too one way to rouse much scribbling from my tired carcass.  Ramsbottom looked particularly organised tonight and their rearguard was akin to a frozen solid testicle - a tough nut to crack.  The match tonight was free, applause to all concerned for that, the ground has a nice feel to it and there were many stalwarts in the mix to show that Non-League football is alive and kicking.  My mate and his good lady, who I had only seen once in the last 20 years was a bonus, and kept me somewhat distracted but only in the best possible way.  We will return to Rammy and pop up to Stalybridge too, next time with hopefully a better match to witness and a usual in depth report.  In the meantime, enjoy your footy, all the best to both squads and wrap up warm - crikey I was chilled to the marrow.