30th December 2017 - Cheadle Town 3 v 0 Cammell Laird 1907 - The last footballing blast of 2017 and a local match featuring two teams in the North West Counties first division table and, with 13 points between them but the lower side having 5 games in hand. Nicely balanced methinks akin to the swinging knackers of an aroused baboon one could almost say (provided the medication wasn't working too well). I spent the morn catching up on some wildlife chores, chomped my dinner, sorted the missus out who is having a bit of back gyp and duly arrived at the ground in ample time to scribble preparatory notes and munch some crisps. I pondered the outcome, adopted the role of soccerised astrologer and tried to mentally predict the result. I wondered what Russel Grant would offer up (besides an idiot sense of enthusiasm and a shit jumper) or the crystal ball of Mystic Meg (she really must get that lump seen to) and opted for a 2-2 draw. If my prediction came true I promised that I would treat myself to a Roy of the Rovers thong, if however my guesstimate was off the mark I would duly devote all my energies during 2018 to bringing about the assassination of Mr Grant (ooh I am a touchy soul). So, I sat back, watched the game develop and here is the upshot of the game according to yours truly!
It was a tight start, both teams struggling to adjust to the sticky green. An early Cheadle free punt saw No 8 (Aaron Fleming) put one over to No 4 (Antony Trucca) who nutted back into the danger zone. A spark of a chance was had, the liner was quick to quell any hopes with his dampening flag. The game ground on, No 11 (Hayden Cooper) for the guests was an early hassle the home bods needed to be wary of. A few late tackles came into the game, nothing vicious mind you, just part and parcel of playing on an unforgiving pitch. From the manky murk Cammell Laird put together a quite stunning move with No 9 (Joe Malkin) finally feeding No 10 (Charles MacInnes) who slotted home with aplomb. This time the other liner had a chance to wave his flag and piss on the chips of success - what a rotten bastard and so soon after the festive period! Despite this sub-net rippling moment Cheadle were just shading matters and started to accumulate some good pressure which culminated in a good harassing burst from their No 9 (Adam Gardiner) who forced the mitter into kicking with haste. The ball slapped against the carcass of the incoming frontman (Richard Whyatt) and was up for grabs. Striker and mittman raced for the globe, the former arrived with millimetres to spare and slid home and opened the scoring - just what the game needed and in many ways, it was well deserved. Within the flick of a Jackdaw's tail feather Cheadle's No 11 (Christopher Sherrington) was away again, wending and weaving and threading a ball to his colleague Whyatt. A toe-poke was executed, a first class save was needed - and that is exactly what we got, well done keeper.
A terrible patch of play came with the ref going pea-happy (dirty git) and the liners obviously suffering from Flagolitis, that dreaded disease that causes misery for many as the sufferer twitches his pennon-holding arm uncontrollably and brings a halt to many smooth passages of play (as well as bowel movements so I hear). Cheadle eventually strung together a 3 pass sequence of attractive liquidity, Fleming to Sherrington to Whyatt who shot and scored and finalised a great goal. Twitch, twitch went the liners arm, for fuck fuckin' sake. Cammell Laird responded with a brace of corners, both easily dealt with by a watertight home defence. The game ground on, nothing of note arose and one did wonder if more action was taking place in the knickers of Theresa May than what was occurring on the pitch - I really must see the doctor again and get my polling cards sorted whilst I am at it. The referee blew, this time it was needed, 1 - 0 to the Green Army, please stayed tuned for half two!
During the break I chatted with the Dad of the Cheadle mitter, a decent bloke I see now and again on my roamings. I scoffed a Mars Bar and slurped some pop and out the teams came, hopefully to offer something better than the first 45 minutes.
An early free-kick for The Laird was awful, Cheadle bounced right back with a couple of passes across the box that ended with Gardiner putting in a bender that just lacked enough curl. A sub for the visitors was followed by a razor break, the ball was eventually released and crawled towards the goal, somehow it wandered just wide. A break from here came, it was fast and looked problematic until The Lairds best player No 11 (Hayden Cooper) clattered his counterpart (Christopher Sherrington) and left him writhing. The away lad was sent off, the home lad hobbled off, a tragic loss for both teams. Some touchline toss followed, I suppose those who got a new handbag for Christmas were keen to try out their swinging arms - silly sods. From here the game dissolved, it was a shocking spectacle and needed a real kick up the jacksie so as to cultivate some genuine hope. Cammell Laird were trying but Cheadle were giving nothing away in the rear and were working well as a unit. Despite this, the Town were living precariously and not making things easy for themselves. A Cheadle sub came, Kilheeney on, within 5 seconds he was booked, thus adding to the major frustrations.
The back stretch was upon us, the guests broke, a shot came, a solid save by the home No 1 (Danny Whiting) was made. A corner followed, the gloved one rose and punched well which led to a Cheadle counter. Fleming had it, he had a chance to smack one, instead a pass, some pondering, another pass and the chance was gone. Again The Town came, Gardiner firing in a whistling free-kick, all it needed was a touch and the lead would have been doubled! The clock was ticking, the visiting manager was getting more irritated by the second and voiced his opinions this way and that! Cheadle pushed once more, a great move from back to front came, just that ruddy end finish was needed. Another shot followed but was too weak but then, on the 90th minute, a ball came into the box, a defender slipped and the home sub (Callum Collinson) slapped home and killed the game dead. Everyone thought that was that but with 5 minutes added on the clock Collinson was in the mix again and whipped the ball in from the left hand side to allow Richard Whyatt to tap home and make it 3 - 0 to the battling Park Road squad. The whistle blew immediately after, we were done. Not the greatest show on earth, but let us end on a positive and give the Man of the Match to Cheadle Town's No 3 (Luke Pearson) for his efficient rearguard play, reading of the game and industrious energy - I think the contribution was indicative of his whole sides performance.
FINAL THOUGHT - Well that is that, 2017 done and the lads who put their arses on the line deserve a rest but, alas for the wicked this can never be. Cheadle Town ground out a dirty win today that lacked anything pretty and was all built from the back of the pack in a 'needs must' kind of way. There is an art in winning ugly - just ask Quasimodo's wife, she won the Timbuktoo Shot Putt World Invitational 3 years running and that was with warts on her chin and one eye missing. Cammell Laird on the other hand looked out of sorts today and just never really got going. If the team was to be compared to a body part then today they were best represented by a blocked intestine, desperately in need of some motivational fibre and a few laxatives of luck. They'll do alright though, sometimes shit happens or, in today's case, it doesn't. And that my dear readers is that, 2017 done, my best wishes go to all who are reading this and the two teams on show today - tha' must be fair tha' knows.
PS - Initial plans were to go to watch Stockport Town v Carlisle City but I had not worked out timings and was up against the clock. I pondered using voodoo prior to kick-off so as to induce a goalless draw at Lambeth Grove and a strike glut at Park Road - if only I hadn't mislaid my Ali Bongo Black Magic Blow-Up Doll (the non sexual type of course). As it transpired, I had chosen a game with more goals but perhaps less excitement - hey ho, tis all about getting out and supporting the game.
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