DIRECTION BEATS DISTRACTION

3rd February 2018 - Stockport Town 0 v 1 Whitchurch Alport - My nob has dropped off!  I know it is not the way to start a football report with such a genital based confession but it is true!  Do you want to know the reason why?  Well I'll tell ya!  It is all down to the amount of time spent twanging my todger waiting each and every weekend for the weather to ruddy well make up its mind and allow me to make my plans.  First it is snow, then it is rain, next comes frost and then more rain etc. etc. ad infinitum.  As a non-league follower it is a trial of the nerves and I am sure I am not the only one who has developed a nervous tick in the soccerised sausage due to this upsetting climate.  Anyway it all came to a head of late, I planned to go here, I planned to go there and ended up who knows where and...as a result, the nob dropped off in resignation and told me 'to just get on with it' - cripes a talking tinkler, is this worth recording? Anyway, after another morn of dillying and dallying and watching the Tweet-soaked webwaves I ended up at The Stockport Sports Village to see what looked like a hard test for the home side!  Fortunately I like all the grounds I visit and this one is on the  local patch with some good folk involved.  I was joined today by an old punk colleague from Norwich who had played a few Fungal gigs several waxing moons ago - it was treat to catch up!  So, we arrived early, chinwagged and supped a cuppa, had a chat with some fine City of Liverpool heads who, after their match had been called off, had come to support one of their other favoured teams, now how good is that!  Even better, one of the bods said they are thinking of getting some T-shirts printed using one of my report quotes - man, I can't wait to see that ha, ha.  And so me and my musical mate took up our seats to witness the forthcoming events and at 3pm prompt the game got rolling and I got scribbling!

An early free-kick for The Lions raised a few home roars and when it came into the danger area was inches away from the bonse of No 9 (Ben Halfacre) who was unlucky not to get at least a punt on goal.  Whitchurch Alport came straight back with their own No 9 (Simon Everall) finalising a quite flowing move with a low shot at the angle.  The mittman was down like Jimmy Tarbuck on a ten bob bit and saved with solidity.  No 10 (Justin Pickering) came at the other end and tried to break the deadlock with a speculative shot but failed to quell the visiting fans vociferous hollerings and healthy support.  The Lions came again but The Red Men of Alport broke,  Everall was at the helm and produced a show of lightning feet that earned a free-kick.  The bonus punt however was akin to Frankie Howerd's wig - fuckin' awful.  Another advance came and produced a couple of testing crosses.  The home defence stood firm, No 5 (Paul Wadsworth) with a well used and reliable bonse helped matters no end but when the ball was knocked out and No 3 (Carl Everall) of the WA Army connected with a peach of a volley I thought the first goal was coming.  The mitter's hands however were impenetrable, the ball was pushed over and bounced twice on the bar before falling behind.  The corner in was dealt with and a couple of fouls followed.  Nothing too brutal, just mistimed efforts but the first card of the day was issued.

A close encounter this, both teams treating the game like an alien autopsy and probing with sincere care.  Stockport Town had the next chance when Pickering produced a lovely ball to the wing that duly led to a cross thumped into the box.  Halfacre waited like the eternal predator that he his but some outstanding on-line defending was had and the ball ended up being nutted over.  Another corner was had and was saturated with disappointment.  As Whitchurch pushed No 4 (Luke Hincks) of The Town put a superb ball into the perilous zone that nearly saw No 7 (Lee Constantine) nip in and pinch the lead.  He was just off the pace - the chance went into the annals of time.  Next up and a butter smooth attack from back to front came via the Alport machine.  A glancing header touched the ball on to the racing No 7 (Aaron Johns) who shot first time.  The defensive block via No 6 (Nathan Mushtaq) was first class and brought a ring of applause from the onlooking mob.  Two crosses followed, the Lions survived and the half took on a dull aspect, a bit like a chess match played between two OAP's on Mogadon.  No-one bashing the bishop, no-one rogering the rook, no-one nobbing the knight - I could go on, the wife says I must stop it - ooh and I had a good one about the Queen!  A last surge, Alport at the helm, No 6 (Ryan Thomas) connected close in with the swede - just over.  The ref blew, enough was enough!

A piss, a stretch, a wag of the mandible -  this was an intriguing affair but Whitchurch Alport were measured and in control of their emotions, I liked the look of that and this is usually a key to success, we shall see.

Out the squads came, Stockport were penned in but after a shot from Everall that was well saved they broke like a Colditz escapee with a bad dose of cystitis.   No 11 (Ruben Abreu) played in No 3 (Izzy Miranda) who cut back for Constantine to blaze over.  Whitchurch reacted, No 2 (Nicholas Marley) finalised one move with a wild shot, No 10 (Benjamin Mills) cut in, rounded Wadsworth and produced a second shot soon after.  It was too straight and too weak - the home No 1 (Dylan Forth) saved with ease.  I reckon Hayley Mills could have done better!  The hosts had another advance, Halfacre laying off to Abreu who crossed to Pickering.  The shot was disappointingly dragged wide - the move was worthy of more!  The drizzle fell, a sub and a lull and we awaited the re-ignition of the impetus.  Halfacre produced a low fizzer out of the murk, the angle was too tight to create any real problems.  The visiting Red Men (playing in blue, awkward gits) broke with zest, No 11 (Lee Pickerall) pulling the trigger without delay.  The gloved gent was down quick and just did enough.  A corner followed, the ball went in, went out and was thumped back by No 3 (Carl Everall).  The underside of the bar was struck, the ball bounced once and was knocked out.  A goal was given, the Stockport bunch disagreed, a controversial moment indeed but with no video replay you just have to suck a sausage of discontent and get on with it - the game duly recommenced. Phew!

Stockport now dug in, Johns working hard and winning a corner ball. The globe was knocked forth, Abreu struck and the mitter blocked well.  The ball fell loose, Constantine was too quick for his own good and rattled the ball wide of the mark.  Straight up the other end and after a free-kick for Whitchurch a foolish foul was committed in the box and the home teams No 16 (Herve Sezerano) was given his second yellow and ordered off.  He had only been on 10 minutes, what a dose of bad luck sir!  The ball was recovered, the spot kick taken and the keeper made a choice save - was this justice served on a silver platter and would this lead to the ultimate twist of fate?  Whitchurch piled immediate pressure on the home 10 men, Johns was on a one to one situation and winning through.  He earned his chance to shoot, all the hard work was done, alas he pulled the shot drastically wide.  The Lions scampered, Pickering turned quicker than Larry Talbot on amphetamines (all you Wolfman nuts may get that one) and was duly clattered.  It wasn't a nasty moment, just a mistimed clash, the touchline nonsense was totally unnecessary.   The free-kick came - low and inches wide - karma perhaps!  As The Lions tried to summon one last roar Simon Everall for Alport was put through with a counter ball.  He rounded the keeper and let his leg swing.  Two rhyming words came to mind - shank and wank - we stayed at 0 - 1.  Before the end the WA Warriors had one last shot that was saved once more and when the referee halted matters soon after one couldn't help thinking the home goalie was unlucky to be on the losing team.  All in all though the best team won and Man of the Match goes to, No 4 (Joseph Howell) of Whitchurch Alport for a controlled, quite disciplined and highly effective effort in the midst of varied threat.  He was a prime example of a a player in a team who never got ruffled - I like that!

FINAL THOUGHT - It wasn't the game I had planned but today I enjoyed the intricacies of the game rather than the outlandish excitement usually offered at this level.  The subtleties that make one team beat another were observed today with Whitchurch Alport totally focused and with a certain direction in their design that is destined to bring home the bacon more often than not.  Stockport Town are a good side but get distracted too often and drawn into too many disputes - it never works and when faced with a quietly efficient side who go about their business with fine conduct, will come unstuck 9 times out of 10.  I like both of these sides though and there are many meritorious points to applaud.  At the end of the day it is all about focus and I leave you with this thought:- Imagine standing on a golf tee and taking ones swing with the eye on the ball and the fairway in the mind's peeper.  You feel good, the grip is firm and you feel as though a true strike is going to be had.  You begin your execution, the club head rises and begins its descent, a 300 hundred yard fairway splitter is on the cards when suddenly up pops Ronnie Corbett from a bunker with a size 20 flat cap on, a Pringle jumper pulled up under his chin and a junior sized erection sticking out from his tartan plus fours.  The shot of your dreams goes AWOL and kills a balding spectator who was only trying to get away from the wife for a day - you may titter, you may smirk, you may even be aroused but it just goes to show, tis all about distraction after all!   DISCLAIMER - no golf spectators were hurt in the writing of this report and the City of Liverpool fans who turned up were quite restrained in the chip chomping!