23rd February 2018 - Avro FC 0 v 0 East Manchester FC - A virus had snuck into the old Fungal frame and I was feeling rather crap. The cold was creeping in from the west and the weekend looked set to freeze the nuts off a walrus. I had also put a £50 bet on Adolf Hitler being found in the Tameside area before the 1st of March. Everything was looking crappy but fresh air is a good cure for a cold, the low thermals are easily combated by chips and tea and a rumour was going round that a one-balled man was seen goosestepping around the Hyde area and muttering something about a cup final. I cycled home, had a read, sorted tea for me and the good lady and got wrapped up warm - those knitted nipple cups and electric underpants I acquired are a real bonus. We both headed out, missed out on warming victuals and kept our peepers peeled for a Charlie Chaplin look-a-like adorned in Jackboots and sporting an idiot toothbrush moustache - whatever you say, old Adolf was one real tosser. We picked our places after a shite drive down, kept close to share body warmth and watched as the teams came out to contest the final of the Manchester FC Challenge Cup.
The referee checked his timepiece, the shrill of the whistle broke the night air, the ball underwent the first of many rotations. The first sortie forth came the way of the East Manc Mob, No 9 (Sam Jones) was on it like a wasp on a jam butty but the keeper was the swatter of flies and denied any sweet success. No 7 (Duncan Knott) for the Avro Army came next, his feet were a blur as he weaved and then released to his colleague No 11 (Chris Howell) who wasted no time in launching a shot. The ball whizzed over but this was a sprightly start from both units. A corner came soon after, there was a fumble in the mix, the ball was nearly poked homeward, who the Hell got the final touch is anyone's guess, it was a mush of action in that box, it must be the cold! Onwards we went, Avro were passing well, using the full spread of the park and putting together some neat sequences. A ball came from one such move, No 10 (Michael Stockdale) got his glabrous pate on the ball from only inches out, the save that came was solid.
A quiet patch followed, both teams were trying to crack the code of the opposing defence, East Manc attempting to do so with a decisive long ball, Avro trying to work through with a sharp multi-pass combination. Only a few half chances appeared, I took this period to glance around the crowd for the ex-German leader but only saw several Eddie Yates look-a-likes and one of Barry Chuckle's ex male lovers - tis a strange world. A brace of corners came the way of Avro the second of which missed all heads and nearly dropped in at the far corner - now that would have been just plain old insulting. Next and a long ball found the feet of Avro's No 8 (Louis Potts) who moved with determination, shot and saw his ball deflect off the carcass of Stockdale and fall outside of the far upright. A goalkeeping blip brought the next action with the East Manc mitter attempting a clearance but only hitting Avro's Stockdale instead. The ball rebounded and looked destined for the goal, it dropped just wide, that No 1 (Phillip Pole) had just lost a life! At the other end the pesky No 11 (Alex Beeley) put in a cross cum shot. The top corner was nearly found but the ball had too much lift and pace and dropped over the bar. The half moved on, Avro countered when on the back foot, it was a razor-like attack and it needed some fine defending from the Manc back pack to blunt the flashing blades. Stockdale was in again, this time thwarted by the effective Manc guardian, No 2 (Connor Brotherton), the lad was having a decent game for sure. The dregs of the first half ended with Avro's Potts putting in a good ball for No 9 (Liam Bennion) to crack first time and a Manc free-kick causing mayhem in their opponents box and giving a sniff at a late-on strike. Both incidents died a death, we went into the break goalless.
Half-time, we stayed put and contemplated. We couldn't be arsed to queue for scram and were glad when the two teams reappeared.
A level start to this second half was had with the same pattern set. Both teams were playing well and showing some applaudable honesty. No play acting, no spite and no fakery - I think this is a notable point and should be an example to the idiot theatre up top. Avro produced the first promise, Stockdale to Knott who crossed across the face of the goal instead of having a pop. All assassins were absent, the danger was dealt with. The same team came again, a slick ball saw Bennion collect but fire with panic-stricken boots - the globe went higher than Jimmy Somerville's voice whilst wandering in a thong shop and I did wonder if the deadlock would ever be broken. Some great banter was coming from the stands and despite the cold everyone in attendance was keeping chipper - and why not, £4 for some cup final action, reality is there to be appreciated.
As the half progressed East Manchester were seemingly happy to absorb the pressure and look for a rapid break, they were doing one part of the job well, it was just the finishing cut that was missing. A few late tackles now came but nothing was malicious, simply a case of tired legs and over-enthusiasm. A few lads went down with cramp, into the last 10 minutes we went. Avro surged, Howell down the wing and Knott grabbing, cutting in and executing nothing less than a wildman shot. Knott soon came again, the ball was put in the danger zone, a shot followed and was saved, this was last gasp stuff and another blast was had for a late rampaging Avro. The ball rasped, the mittman parried, Stockdale was almost in the net but somehow managed to fire over - what a shocker sir! The game soon came to an end, it had been a good 'un, now for the penalty shoot out.
Tension was high, the do or die situation was upon us - Avro came first and Potts buried the ball. McIntosh for East Manchester stepped up, the ball was struck - saved, advantage the way of the greens. No 5 (Sam Rathbone) next to give his team a 2 strike cushion - advantage gone as the target was missed, The next 3 penalties were all converted Sam Jones, Brad Byrne and Michael Stockdale all take a bow, In fact Stockdales penalty was cool and clinical, if he had been so during the match he could have saved us a whole lot of bother - ooh the rotten devil. So 2 - 2 it was, Joe Rathbone of The Avro next to give his side the lead. He came , he clouted, he indulged in a shocker - the tide had now turned. No 8 (Jack Timmons) stepped up for the Blues, get this and the pressure on the last Avro kicker would be immense. The shot came, it was another stinker - 2 strikes left, shit or bust time folks. No 15 (Matt Landregan) came forth for Avro, he kept the head down, he fired with a cucumber cool focus, the mesh rippled - it was all down to No 17 (Scott Percival) of the EM crew to keep his team in this one. He struck well, the bottom corner beckoned, from out of nowhere the Avro No 1 (Karl Stone) sprawled, what a stunning save. His teams mates went bananas, they flocked around him, the game was up, Avro FC were the 2018 Manchester Challenge Cup champions. Man of the Match for me goes to the winning side's No 7 (Duncan Knott) who I thought showed good pace, perpetual threat and on another night could have bagged a few goals too. A player to watch methinks, one with much pep in the tank and some darn flitting feet. Good on ya fella!
FINAL THOUGHT - Well, due to the amount of traffic on the roads we nearly didn't make this one and, in truth, if we hadn't it would have been our loss. This may have been a goal free game at full time but it was a very enjoyable match with both teams playing the game fairly and squarely and sticking to the pre-match plan and deserving a draw at the end of the 90 minutes. It was a thrilling finale, penalties always are and love or loathe them they are decisive, to the point and add a fine dimension to the game. To those who scored and those who missed, it happens and next time it could be a different matter - 'tis all in the hands of Lady Luck at this stage and she can be one right awkward cow I can tell ya. I remember throwing a coconut at the head of Margaret Thatcher back in the day, who would have guessed it would have bounced off her noggin and killed an onlooking Nun - now that's bad luck don't ya know. Anyway this was a pleasure, good on all those involved and all those who supported the game - this is reality, this is lower league football, there is no finer place - just a pity Adolf Hitler didn't turn up - I bet his jeep was stuck in the traffic, darn those fat councillors at SMBC and their wretched transport systems!
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