Sunday 29 April 2018

NOMADS TURN THE S'CREWE

28th April 2018 - Linotype Cheadle Heath Nomads 3 v 1 Crewe FC - Today I was flustered by more techno tossery with the computer playing up and needing attention. So, after a morn of cleaning and sorting the weekend's itinery me and the good lady dropped of the clinging machine at a so called computer repair shop in Handforth.  I say 'so called' as these molesters of motherboards and dabblers in disk drive deviancy really do have me wondering about their entire mental make-up and general character.  They talk in garbled terms, hide in a smoke-screen of jargon and are eternally pale of colour due to spending too much time soaking up VDU beams rather than the outside air.  So, after dropping off the machine, acquiring some snacks I went home with the missus and then strolled to this local ground and chatted with several decent peeps who are trying to do their bit and put the home team on the well-worn Non-League map.  One of these chaps was the charming George Gibbons, the chairman of the club and now the proud owner of a tractor.  I don't normally put pictures in my write-ups but this one was sent to me and sums up the DIY, hands-on approach of the Non-League scene.



I took my seating station for the afternoons events, read a tome on 'Plant Galls' and awaited the two teams.  A few peeps turned up (emphasis on a few) and the players and officials made themselves present, here's to a good un' folks.

The commencement of the affair was rather sketchy, similar to the conscience of your local MP no doubt or the comedic talent of Dougie Brown.   Eventually the Nomads won a free-punt after  No 10 (Leon Grandison)  was bundled to the floor.  A delicious cross followed and although no takers took up the spherical offer this moment led to a good bout of pressure that kept Crewe on the rear peg.  No 8 (Kieran Herbert) put in some good touch work, Grandison was upended again and a bonus ball was put into the zone of peril and once more no killer contact was made.  Had the ball picked up a nasty virus and the striker's were averse to catching anything - surely not that Global Pox again!  The Crewe crew rode the tide and won a gratis boot of their own but, when the ball came and spent too long in the air, offside was duly called after a weak nut on goal. A long Nomad ball came next, No 9 (Rick Tindall) was on the end of it and tried an intelligent but slightly impudent lob - it went...off target.  Soon after a fine midfield tackle opened the gateway for another homeside attack.  It culminated in a shot for No 7 (Liam Millen) who, rather than hit the net, took the arse feathers of a passing Shithawk and left many hopefuls...deflated.  Herbert had another side-footed attempted soon after but went shy of the mark and from here the Crewe lads were given reason to believe and started to creep back into the battle.

As things became more competitive Crewe forced a Nomad midfield error after the home team's options were limited.  The visiting team were given time to knock the ball around on the edge of the box which led to No 8 (Sam Roberts) releasing one, albeit into the meat of the keeper's carcass.  Soon after the hosts gave the ball away again, No 9 (Nathan Southern) collected and advanced with purpose.  He eventually swung the shank and propelled the ball at a slightly out-of-position keeper.  The home No 1 (Aaron Tyrer) did well to recover and make a neat save. The next erection of excitement arose when a Cheadle free-kick was sweetly played, Tindall rose to nut on and a final dose of triumphant goal-scoring Viagra was added via the crust of Herbert who readily rippled the mesh.  1 - 0 to The Nomads, it had been a long time coming and therein a sexual innuendo is found.  From here the visitors looked to settle and were darn fortunate not to go further behind when Grandison was, on a brace of occasions, only inches away from making contact with a couple of dazzling crosses.  From here the host's showed good composure, a free-kick saw No 11 (Joe Cambell) send in a bender only to find the keeper's guts and then a couple more crosses flash into the box and just lack that necessary coup de grace!  The referee had seen enough, the half-time break was granted, things were nicely poised I thought!

During the break the uretha was dilated and golden torrents cascaded onto shit-stained enamel before the Englishman's drink was purchased and sipped whilst strolling back to my perch and noting a few wild flowers along the way - Thyme leaved Speedwell; Slender Speedwell and Ivy Leaved Speedwell making up a fine trio of the Veronica family!

Period the second began with the Linotype lads carrying on from where they left off.  They worked hard to create another flow of pressure but after a brief break for a ball-in-the-mush injury Crewe came from nowhere, put in a low cross on which Southern pounced and finished in sugar-coated style.  It was against the flow, it put the game rump over breast, the conkers of intrigue were clashing!  The Nomads reacted to this shocker with red light urgency and a ball soon found Campbell who hot-footed inwards, side-footed the globe towards goal and was denied by an efficient save.  Tindall tried his luck next with a hammer-heavy free-kick but the ball flew high into the sky.  Crewe countered, a free-kick came, Southern was up challenging and the ball fell to No 11 (Nathan Dyer) who flashed a volley that was deflected behind.  A corner flew in, No 10 (Harry Ashworth) nutted with passion but again the ball, like the dog of John Noakes and the Knickers of Hilda Ogden, refused to stay down.  At the other end of the field yet another free-kick was awarded, this time Butler thumped with fervour, the underside of the bar was bruised, the ball descended with pace, alas at this level there was no video-replay available and we all had to settle for the referee's opinion - no goal.

The game was now ablaze, both teams sniffing the loins of victory.  The home team came again with a choice move, Herbert starting it, Grandison finalising matters - side netting struck.  This was now end to end stuff, both teams upping the tempo.  Next and Herbert fed Tindall, the shot came, the far upright was missed.  Once more the hosts progressed, a cross was glanced on, Butler dashed in and nutted straight at the keeper - another opportunity blown.  Campbell had the next punt, it was a better effort and brought a good save from an underfire mittman.  The finish was becoming increasingly hectic, Crewe were absorbing the avalanche and looking to spit back with spite.  Alas the Cheadle chaps would not be denied and put together a delicious sequence that saw 4 players mix it up and eventually get rewarded with a corner kick.  The delivery of this angled effort was decent enough but Butler could only connect and bang wide.  Out of nothing a ball came into the Crewe box and had plenty of elevation.  The keeper came to fist clear, he missed and the ball went loose and up stepped No 7 (Liam Millen) to snatch a quite simple goal.  The pressure had paid dividends, the lead was thoroughly earned.  From here the Linotype Mob saw matters out but not before a corner was had, the ball went in, out and back in and was sent into the back of the net by No 4 (Liam Donaher).  It was game done and dusted, Crewe had been busted and all in all the result was mighty fair.  Man of the Match today goes to Linotype Cheadle Heath Nomad's No 6 (Terence Butler) for a stint that oozed effort, desire and energy as well as some tidy passing, overall alertness and game awareness - spot on squire!  I duly wandered home at the pace of a snail and was greeted by my good lady and a Holly Blue butterfly in the garden, I can't complain.

FINAL THOUGHT - Yet again, another match at this local venue fulfils the Non-League needs with both teams putting in a quite honest shift and granting all and sundry with a game to enjoy.  At this level the teams need all the support and help they can get so anyone who makes the effort is very well received, something I certainly felt and am very appreciative of.  The Linotypers play a good game, they move the ball well, have some real work-horses in their ranks and some definite position-assured players who look quite at home in their role.  Crewe FC I have seen a few times and are far from a poxy unit.  They also push the ball around well and have some good sets of feet in their ranks, their downfall now and again may be the fact that they over-elaborate and perhaps don't offer enough options when in possession.  Regardless of my thoughts though, I will be catching up with them again and wishing them all the best.  So, match report 97 of the season done, why the need to put back, well if people at grounds like this can get stuck in and present us with such fine entertainment the option to do nowt is not one I like to take.  I was sent another picture during this match, tis the Manager doing his bit above the call of duty - DIY hey, ya can't beat it!


And once again, cheers to all who read these things, very decent of ya.

Saturday 28 April 2018

LUCKY 13 - FOR RUNCORN AND NEUTRALS ALIKE

26th April 2018 - Runcorn Town 10 v 3 AFC Darwen - The match planned for tonight was cancelled so after a nice tea and a change of plan we took an easy drive down to The Pavillion Sports Complex and duly purchased the obligatory cup of cha and golden goal ticket before taking up our prime viewing hot-spots.  Me and my wife both predicted a home win, my good lady went for 4 - 1 and I was more ambitious and went for 6 - 1 - little did we know that both attempts at prophecy were a trifle conservative.  As the teams warmed up I sipped my tea and ran through a list of wild flowers I had seen walking from the car park to our seats - Groundsel, Red Dead Nettle, Oxford Ragwort; Chickweed, Cornsalad, Thale Cress, Dandelion agg and Shepherd's Purse to name a few - I hope the ground staff don't go mad and clear away these gems, if you get your eye in it all adds to the charm of the place and is doing a good turn for nature - we are all weeds at some point, not wanted in certain circles and frowned upon.  Take my advice - set your roots firm folks, bloom with confidence and spread thy seeds of enthusiasm with generosity - well that's my ethos anyway and God bless those feisty plants and what they stand for.  So, to the game, the teams trotted out, the skies were cloudy but holding back the lacrymal misery and the game got underway with 82 onlookers as keen and as eager as ever - lovely.

As soon as the black clad official piped his pea the home team were straight at it like hungry dogs on a ham-shank.  A high tossed ball was borne and duly grabbed by the ever industrious No 7 (Joe Holt).  He worked inward from the emerald flanks, found an appropriate space at the angle and walloped home with forceful intent.  Runcorn were not satisfied by the early taste of success and applied a nagging pressure the guests did well to partially resist.  The Darwen lads did find room to manoevure and allow their No 10 (Ryan Steele) to thump in a long ranger after the home keeper went walkabout.  The ball went shy of the sticks, it would have been a bonus strike back for sure.  From here we peregrinated back to the opposite end of the field, a ball was played to No 10 (Craig Cairns) who, in his accurate and eye-catching striker's manner slotted home with comfortable ease.  2 - 0 and only 9 minutes on the clock.  The game was hectic, Runcorn the main operators of the tempo nob (and what a nob at that) and Darwen mere slaves to the tempo, dashing hard to try and keep some semblance of order to the night's proceedings.  Cairns was a persistent thorn in the visiting sides rear end, he punctured and prowled once more and contributed to a free-kick being won.  No 5 (Simon Thelwell) stepped up, had what seemed an optimistic dig and saw the ball ping of the inside of the post and bring up a 3 goal lead (it seems that this was given as an own goal, did I blink and miss the obvious)?  It was looking like a severely long night from the travelling pack but credit where credit is due and applause for them still trying to play football and work an opening.  Alas, from little danger, Runcorn were given a chance to rub salt in a gaping gash when a lofted ball came in and the keeper came and fumbled.  The loose ball could have gone anywhere, unfortunately for The Salmoners Cairns was in the right place at the right time (isn't he always) and slapped home the fourth.  Now this was just getting silly.

Onwards, Holt was on the end of a patient build-up, he put some welly into a shot that warmed the solar plexus of a mithered mitter, Darwen decided to make a substitute and follow up with a move that saw No 6 (Jamie Edwards) get involved and a have decent attempt on goal - the ball flew just over.  Soon after another Runcorn foray came but bore no fruit and then the guests produced a swift moment of interplay with No 7 (Sidi Fofana) and No 8 (Jordan Scott) combining and a cross coming in that saw No 4 (Tim Drugan) duly tap home.  4 - 1 - perhaps not game on but just reward for a perspired effort.  Runcorn were re-sparked by this insult, a ball over the middle of the park allowed Cairns to thump forward a sublime volley.  It was a technically sound strike and the save that stoppped it was first class indeed.  Within seconds of this gratifying moment The Town rebuilt, Holt being the usual menace and working in and having time to shoot.  He unselfishly laid the ball off for that unstoppable force Cairns, who tapped home and bagged his hat-trick.  Only 2 minutes later and Holt was in again, leading the keeper a merry dance, weaving around the hollering mittman and tapping home for number 6.  The guest No 1 (Thomas Scott) screamed a brace of 'fuck off's' in his frustration, a phrase he went on to repeat several times more before the night was done.  He was one troubled man and yet produced his second stunning save of the night when No 9 (Mark Reed) collared a long ball, got through,confronted the last man standing and was denied by some fine reactions.  A top class block that was worthy of mention.  As the half entered the final stages Darwen still pounded the turf, still worked with spirit and Steele was unlucky not to get on the scoresheet after his long range effort looked set to sneak below the bar but was neatly tipped over by the home netter.  Before the break Mr Holt for Runcorn was in again, he dealt with the keeper, rounded him with ease and from a few feet out...missed.  It was a let off and sent the visiting in team with only a 5 goal deficit to turn around - oh my ruddy goodness.

Halftime and a wander, a chat with the daughter, tea and a Mars Bar and of course, the usual emptying of the bladder.  Seats retaken and if this match has no further goals my prediction of 6 -  1 will be bang on the mark - as if!

The second half, Darwen came out with spirit, a few crosses, 2 corners and lots of energy were had but Runcorn had the first chance to ripple mesh when some choice wing work saw a low ball fly in to the perilous area and Holt pounce like a shithawk on a discarded sausage and get denied by yet another tip top save.  A great moment all round and it looked as though the home lads were keen to go for the jugular however, if truth be told, they became somewhat complacent and took their eye off the ball and didn't press with any urgency.  Saying that, Holt was the beneficiary of a pinging ball and let fly only to see a defensive muddle send the globe pinging off the bar - somehow the guests survived.  A lazy midfield ball from Runcorns efficient Thelwell came next, the player fell to the floor with a niggle and Darwen swept forward.  A clean cut passing move was had, a ball into the box played and No 9 (Ryan McKenna) slapped home to give the game its unexpected octo-strike.  I scribbled away and tried to keep up with the overflow of action and when I looked up I saw Runcorn's No 2 (Liam Turner) put a ball on to the crust of Holt who duly nodded to the feet of No 6 (Paul McManus) who thumped home and graced the game with the best goal of the night.  A beauty, the executioner looked chuffed to bits - take a bow sir, take a bow!

I was breathless with the action, I needed some respite but Runcorn came again, Reed inches away from connecting with a beautiful cross and snatching his own slice of success.  The same bod followed this up with a perfect cross for Cairns who, in a quite uncharacteristic manner, nutted wide.  Cairns had another rasp soon after, it was straight at the keepers midriff, you couldn't help but admire the frontman's hunger.  A corner was given moments later, Thelwell made a nuisance of himself with a couple of disrupting headers and our friendly neighbourhood hotshot of the night scored his 4th and the small set of fans behind the goal began to chant.  What an avalanche, what an unexpected night of manic football, the Non-League never fails to surprise.  Darwen still, for all their worth, tried to pilfer what they could from this long lost affair, in the midst of the trouncing they still put in some half-decent moves.  McKenna found space and shot off target, Edwards cracked one and forced a solid save and then Steele let fly but couldn't find the sweet spot.  No 14 (Kevin Exell) for Runcorn had the next best chance, he shot and missed a golden chance but made up for it with a top drawer pass to Cairns who laid one on a plate for Mark Reed to tap home.  Man, what a night!

At last a lull came, I put my proverbial feet up, the last 10 minutes where upon us.  Holt for the hosts was still full of running (too many bags of Skittles methinks) and blazed one over from a few yards out and then Exell missed a glorious chance after a perfect cross fell at his tootsies.  The game looked done, the result settled, another Runcorn attack came, the culmination of a good night's work was had as the ball was crossed and Cairns collected his set of five and brought the strike rate up to double figures for The Town.  With the last seconds now ticking Darwen somehow found time to squeeze in one last move, the home lads dawdled and from a series of short passes Darwen's No 11 (Karl Turner) twatted one home and finalised the evenings events at 10 goals to 3.  What an outcome and we trundled off home, chewing the cud and pondering many imponderables.  Man of the Match goes to No 10 (Craig Cairns) for obvious reasons, the main one being his tireless efforts and his insatiable appetite for goals.  Some strikers have something in their blood and when this mysterious strain is combined with quality you have a recipe for success.  A Fungalpunk slap on the back fella - good on ya and long may your work ethic continue.

FINAL THOUGHT - Well, we came, we expected goals, we were given an overdose.  Sometimes a trouncing is a far from entertaining contest but that was not the case tonight as both teams played with an openness that duly led to chance after chance and gave each and every onlooker no time to catch their breath.  Runcorn Town are a darn good side who, during mid-season lost a bit of impetus and gave away their chance to be pushing for automatic escape.  They will always be up in the higher echelons of this competitive division, it is just a matter of ironing out a few weak points and adding that bit of extra polish.  They may have scored 10 goals tonight but it was obvious work in certain areas needs to be done.  AFC Darwen are down and out but with the players they have will no doubt be bouncing back and rebuilding their reputation.  They are better than what the scoreline and end current position suggests and for a club with such a good set-up I hope things turn around for them pretty soon.  I hope to get up and visit their ground again very soon, and when I do I shall be hoping for a more charitable outcome for them.

Thursday 26 April 2018

THE HILL BEATEN BLUES

25th April 2018 - Chadderton FC 4 v 3 Daisy Hill - After 4 days of birding on the East Coast in quite lovely weather it was back home catching up with all manner of tasks.  The sky had turned a mucky grey, it decided to leak and keep me indoors, I needed the excuse to be fair. Spoonbill, Red Crested Pochard, Blue Headed Wagtail, Black Brant Goose, Grey Plover, Lesser Whitethroat, Cuckoo and Marsh Harrier were a few of the avian gems seen and with a good dose of Vitamin D I was in fine fettle and looking forward to a counterbalancing footballing fix.  As I pondered the globe kicking events and processed some more wildlife pictures I had The World Snooker Championship on in the background, as a result, this report will take on a certain theme and if anyone cares to insert a cue in the rear whilst reading the textual matter or indeed balance a lump of chalk on any part of the body for purely exhibition reasons then so be it and enjoy.  I am happy with my memories of going on a bender with Bill Werbeniuk and ending up having my stomach pumped and a yellow ball removed from my anus - I am easily led and believe me it took some cueing action to de-pot that rectal sphere I can tell ya.  My first match after arriving back was cancelled due to the weather, so after a day at work, I arrived with my good lady at Chaddy.  The green baize was moist and verdant, the competitors manifested themselves (tis one way to keep warm I suppose) and the game went as thus.

The break off came, the pack was ruffled, an early free-kick was granted to the DH lads after their No 3 (Tim Raines) drove forth and was duly impeded.  No 11 (Jack Burke) eyed up the bonus boot and struck one.  The ball flew with average pace but struck the home mitter's chest before he could fully grab and fell loose to the alert tootsies of No 11 (Ulrich Ngamba).  The frontman tapped home with relative ease, there were only 3 minutes on the clock and my arse had barely settled in.  From the centre kick we went up the other end, a corner was had, confusion in the box followed and after an impudent back flick a handball decision was hollered for.  The man in black seemed in no doubt and pointed to the spot, I thought the decision a trifle cruel but hey, like the time I got stuck in a lift with an inebriated Doug Mountjoy and he related a tale about a man he knew who could do marvellous things with his glass eye, shit happens.  No 11 (Jack Burke) for The Blues stepped up and slapped home the spot kick with authority - we were back to all square.  No sooner had I noted this exciting start than Ngamba produced a choice turn up the other end and got himself in a one-on-one position with the keeper (ooh the fruity devil).  Time seemed to be on the striker's side, he picked his spot and the goalkeeper sprawled and somehow got his carcass in the way and saved the early day.  Moments later the same gloved guardian was called into action again as Raines charged forth and looked set to strike before the ball was grabbed at his eager feet.  A good commencement to the game this, pass me the nude photo of Rex Williams, I need cooling down for sure!

The game progressed, space was plentiful, in fact there was more space to be found on the pitch than within the centre parting of Willie Thorn, and that's spacious.  A free-kick was won, Daisy Hill the recipients.  The hoof was taken, No 9 (Jordan Donnelly) put crust on leather but the contact was awful - check that object ball for fluff please!  Chaddy reacted, a laser move, a sweet cross, No 9 (Bradley Kay) in and blocked by a quick thinking No 1 (Ryan Kirkman) - alas all action was deemed offside anyway - bah.  A rush by the home team saw No 2 (Joseph Richards) show as much strength and desire as Eddie Charlton in a gay boxing match (with added oils).  An angled kick came, The Hill defended with earnest endeavour, the danger was smothered but Chadderton had their peckers up and when No 7 (Jordan Butterworth) played a quite delicious pass to Richards and a chance to shoot was wasted it was with no surprise that the pressure was maintained, a dinked ball was had and nutted home by No 9 (Bradley Kay) to give the hosts the crucial advantage.  It was an ugly goal to concede, less attractive in fact than the body of Graham Miles after a full waxing (and that's ugly) - the Daisies needed to re-root and re-bloom mighty soon.

Further into the first period we went, I was enjoying myself, my wife is more sobered and sensible but if my pre-match prediction of 4 - 2 came to fruitition she wouldn't hear the last of it.  Next and Chad's No 10 (Jack Turnbull) blazed one over, a Daisy attack resulted in a defensive miscue which saw a corner followed by a free header.  The rectangular pocket was missed, the keeper was far from happy.  The visitor's came on, Burke blasted one but was wide of the mark, then Turnbull broke at the other end but was thwarted at the last by a dashing keeper.  Chadderton now applied some good pressure, Kay released a late rasper off target, we were eventually done, it had been an interesting first 45.

A much needed piddle was had during the break, a cup of tea and several ginger nuts were enjoyed (and I am not referring to the genital area of one Steve Davis).  There was a chill in the air tonight, the boing of Spring had gone twang, tuck in thy seedlings folks, a withering may take place if ye be carefree and overly confident.

The start to the second period exposed the Daisy dudes with renewed vigor with Donnelley having a mild effort, Burke putting in a firm effort just shy of the upright and Ngamba getting caught offside on a couple of occassions.  A bit more composure and patience and who knows and while more shots came at each end I did wonder when the next bulge of the netting would occur.  There was much energy in the game, akin to the buttocks of Tony Meo when mincing around the table in the 'Big Break' studio with the chance of winning a trip to Batley for his off-the-street partner.  There was a good effort being chucked in by the Hillites, the Chadderton rearguard needed a certain solidity which they maintained.  The defenders repeatedly absorbed and then a release ball was had and Kay was away with options to his left and to his right.  He ignored both, weaved inward and slapped home with chilled control - as cool in fact as the silk underpants of David Taylor when making his first 147 break.  The Daisy Hill pack were now up against it, as was my rear due to the unforgiving seating arrangements at this fine ground.  I did have worries about sitting down too long and falling victim to a bad bout of the old Graham Miles, I hope I still have some of that safety cream.

The game now became a battle of the middle ground, it was touch and go where the next glimpse of goal would come from until the ball fell neatly at the feet of No 8 (Jack Ward) who knocked forth a looper that went up, came down and sneaked in between the underside of the bar and the mitter's desperate digit tips.  The executioner couldn't believe his good fortune, the guest team couldn't believe they were 4 - 1 down.  A period of to-ing and fro-ing with no real openings was had, the situation brought visions of a Perry Mans v Cliff Thorburn grind-out, the interest levels were waning for the first time all night.  Into the back stretch we went, the guests were still straining for a goal and won a free-kick which resulted in a bout of pushing and shoving.  A card was shown, Burke took command of the kick and cracked home to reduce the deficit to just 2 goals.  There were only 4 minutes left on the clock, plus stoppage time, would we get a final twist.  The visitors strove on, Chadderton dug deep and look composed and then a hopeful high ball was tossed into the host's box, the keeper came and fumbled, up stepped Donnelly and snatched another goal back and brought the briefest glimpse of hope to his fellow players, supporters and staff.  The restart came, the referee was a killjoy, he blew for full time and quelled any hope of one last charge - I think the home lads were more than happy with the final blow (ooh heck).  We two wanderers pootled off, I decided to give the Man of the Match to Chadderton's No 3 (Michael Woolfe) who was solid, reliable and undertook his duties with little fuss and great effect - tis the only way to do it.

FINAL THOUGHT - After a week away from the footballing action it was nice to get back into the swing of things with a 7 goal treat.  Both teams play with a style that is far from watertight and with a certain abandon up front that can thus result in many goals scored and many goals given away - just what we keen neutrals need.  If this match was likened to a snooker match then perhaps Tony Drago v Alex Higgins would be an ideal choice, with commentary supplied by the whispering but highly violent Ted Lowe and his partner (not sexual) man of wisdom Jack Karnehm.  High action, unpredicatable and with many moments of madness to make one wonder what the hell is going on.  I like the style of both teams but I certainly wouldn't want to be their Manager - it must cost a fortune in nerve tablets and those sleepless nights are no good for any old soul.  I wish them all the best for the future, I will no doubt be catching up with them here and there - I won't complain if I get the same glut of goals and downright honest approach.

Thursday 19 April 2018

EVERY GOAL TELLS A DIFFERENT STORY

18th April 2018 - Prestwich Heys 7 v 2 Carlisle City - The third match on the bounce this week but my next one is a week away so I suppose it keeps things balanced.  The sun is starting to make his presence known and to this fungalised git it means time must be spent recording and enjoying the birds, bugs and blooms whilst catching up on a few books I am writing and ploughing through the eternal CD review backlog.  Tis nice to be busy when the solar rays warm the flesh and the hope eternal it brings is never underestimated by this appreciative soul.  We had a quick tea, drove to the ground with the windows down, entered, lay down and played a word game of the good lady's phone whilst we awaited the teams.  A wander for a pre-match piddle, spots chosen and a lovely chat with a referee who was in attendance as an assessor tonight, going through the tick-box routine and making sure the man in the middle earned his crust.  A lovely fella this, quite sober in his opinion of his role and understanding of the bollocks spouted his way and the general attempt at sway which can get many into pointless hot water.  So the two sides appeared, t'was a lovely evening with a Robin singing in the trees and the breeze of a most pleasant thermality - here's to a grand game.

It was a vigorous start, both teams sprightly and keen to take control.  Heys had an early free-kick/corner combo - the latter hoof going into the box and out before No 9 (Lee Grimshaw) had a punt but the connection was poor.  The home lads pushed again and were thwarted at the last by a very close offside call whilst Carlisle responded with a free-kick that led to a stunning cross the Heys crew did very well to clear...eventually).  Prestwich now began to turn the screw, 2 crosses came and were dealt with but the Carlisle crew were under pressure and when a lovely dinked chip came it was No 11 (Rio Wilson-Heyes) who popped up and nutted home.  It was a well-worked goal and no sooner had celebrations been had than the same team came once more, No 4 (Max White) had a volley deflected but the keeper was in the right spot and safely scooped up the globe.  Carlisle responded, one long ball bounced high and nearly beat the home netter with No 11 (David Renyard) almost nipping in, thanks goodness the No 1 (Michael Smith) had a good reach.  Seconds later the same frontman cracked one just wide and then No 9 (Ryan Errington) had a half-chance but just fell short of a pure connection.  This was a good fight back from an early blow though but Heys are never to be underestimated and from a brief midfield melee the bright and intelligent No 7 (Daniel White) turned and released and forced the visiting mitter (Michael Ballantine) to produce a good low save.  The resulting corner produced...nowt!

The game now saw Carlisle on the back foot, a corner ball for Heys saw Grimshaw put pate on sphere but there was too much uplift and over the bar the ball went.  Some lovely wing play followed, 2 passes, the ball was laid off and Grimshaw side footed home with casual certainty and doubled his sides lead.  More Prestwich pressure was added, several sugar-coated balls were flicked into the maw of the box, each and everytime there looked to be a strike waiting to happen.  Another attack down the flank came, a simplistic yet effective ball was played, it was Daniel White who struck home with a sanguine ease and an unruffled brow.  Soon after, a booking was had for Carlisle's Renyard, which was a ruddy shame as he was putting in some good graft.   Next action and Daniel White for The Heys put in a sumptuous shot of sublime quality that needed some excellent mitt attention.  The corner was put in, knocked out and a free-kick awarded to the attacking squad.  Max White put the ball in, a head connected, the globe flew wide.  A rare ball back for Carlisle was had, a gem of a delivery saw the goalkeeper advance and punch.  Errington found himself with the ball at his feet and put back a decent shot that was slightly too high, unlucky squire!  The last dregs saw No 3 (Aaron Bradley) and Renyard of the visitors have more efforts on goal, one save, one wide - at least they were having a go.  The half ended, it had been enjoyable but as a neutral I hoped the traveling tribe could get a few goals back.

More chin-wagging for half-time, a cup of cha' and a shared Twix with the missus.  It was nice not to be freezing our chuffs off for a change.

The Sky Blues came out feisty for the second period, a corner was won, a good delivery saw confusion in The Heys box, No 12 (Kyle McCartney) was in the right place at the right time and buried the ball and gave the game just what it needed.  Carlisle now had renewed belief, Heys were temporarily rattled and another corner came against them, it was duly dealt with and the hosts reacted well with Daniel White playing a cute ball to No 10 (John Main) who shot close in but was denied by a rock solid save.  The guests still exuded zest, the hosts had to earn their crust.  2 controversial free-kicks for Prestwich were given, it stemmed a troubling flow, the first was punched away, the second delivered by Daniel White who found the head of No 6 (Jacob Wood) who could only find the relieved keepers arms.  The game was becoming more and more intriguing, Carlisle were industrious, many players busting a gut.  No 14 (Robert McCartney) fired in a fine cross, No 12 (Kyle Armstrong) flew in but was just denied at the last.  The home lads offered a response, White in the mix, No 15 (Lee Bruce) shooting but it was too easy for the keeper.  A rebound the other way, a strong burst, a 50/50 ball won followed by a pass that allowed No 10 (Jake Simpson) to tap home.  Lovely stuff.

Into the meat of this second period and the guests had their peckers up, but a break came against them and Bruce got the bit between his teeth and rushed, pushed and pursued through tackles and a blur of swinging legs until he got his due reward and forced the ball home.  4 - 2, a kidney punch for Carlisle, nay a veritable kick in the bulging goolies, but what determination from the home scorer?  A few moments later a Heys free-kick, a choice ball in and Wood popping up and nutting home to restore a 3 goal advantage and empty his footballing bladder over the promise of budding visitors.  Suddenly Heys were at it again, No 17 (Alfie Belcher) supplied a stunning ball for confusion to rein and an own goal to come from the mess.  It was insulting to see and when No 14 (Ashley Stott) broke moments later and was in a one on one situation with the mittman it was a moment of outrage that saw him bury and give the scoreline a quite warped appearance.  This was not a 7 - 2 match but hey, when the bowels of misfortune open...shit happens!  McCartney still pushed on at the other end, it was a brilliant run and shot but was tidily saved by an alert keeper.  Chances continued to come at both ends, Belcher had the last effort for The Heys, it went over and the game was done, 9 goals, a distortion of fact if one looks at it on paper after the event, hopefully you can read between the lines.  Man of the Match goes to No 7 (Daniel White) for The Heys, he put in some exceptional passes, remained composed throughout, bagged a goal and exuded a noticeable quality - one to watch methinks.

FINAL THOUGHT - Well, what can I say, the truth is out there but it is riddled with a masque of deceit and that 5 goal swing that the hosts strutted off with did not reflect the effort put in by their defeated guests.  Prestwich Heys though are a good side, they have a cup match coming up and will be in the play-off mix - the only question remains - will they shoot their bolt beforehand by piling up these goal gluts or will they stay on top of the crest of a wave and surf hard into the next awaiting tier - the season may be old but it is still pregnant with much excitement.  Carlisle City should take pride in the second half efforts today and having been on the wrong side of the scoreline at the break they came out and showed a quite admirable character.  They worked hard to get their 2 goals and were unfortunate that circumstance had a trick up its sleeve and dealt them a foul hand.  The performance from the second period should be concentrated on and used as an example of how to play for the full 90 minutes and put the veritable shits up their opponents.  I wish them well, I hope to get back up to Carlisle at some point, they deserve any support they can get!

POYNTON LEFT POINTLESS

17th April 2018 - Poynton FC 0 v 1 Linotype Cheadle Heath Nomads - I am back to square one and buggered out.  The day at work was non-stop, I dashed home and helped the neighbour sort her bike out, filed some wildlife photo's, had a quick tea, greeted the good lady who also had a bite to eat and then out we both went to watch this Cheshire League fixture not a million miles away from where we live.  An easy trip down, a wander and positions taken, there was nowhere to sit and no tea to be found, if the clouds started to leak I would be one cross bunny, in fact more irritated than when Bugs Bunny had that accident with the carrot and had to spend 6 weeks in traction.  The wind tickled across the sticky looking pitch (known as 'The Swamp' so I am wisely informed), the teams tossed about, disappeared and came back in a fractured and unhurried style.  Hands were shook, halves chosen, Poynton were starting 1 man down, surely stopping at home watching 'Eggheads' isn't worth missing the match for, but then it does take all sorts and that Barry does wear some rather fetching shirts (if your fashion-sense is corrupted that is).

At just after 6.30pm the match got underway, the start was mediocre, one expected the Nomads to take the initiative due to the extra-man advantage but that wasn't the case as Poynton held their own.  A few peppery tackles inflamed the early play, a questionable free-kick awarded to the home lads didn't help sooth any rising irritation.  The execution of this gratis boot was akin to the underwear of one William Simmonite, exceedingly shabby and I expected a certain Ms Batty to invade the pitch brandishing her mop against the kicking culprit.  The match became a midfield tussle, no team squeezing the conkers of the affair and producing any seeds of success.  Eventually Poynton's missing player turned up, it was the mitter who duly took up his place whilst his replacement  (Andrew Simpson) switched shirts and joined the outfield pack as the No 7.  This player then had the chance to snatch the lead when a cross came and he nutted with purpose but sent the ball just shy of the upright - now that would have been a moment to remember.  A free-kick for the home lads quickly followed, No 9 (Nicky Challinor) took the reins, sent in a low daisy-cutting drive that the keeper collected with ease. Poynton pushed on, they looked the more settled and organised side at this stage and when a corner resulted in a throw-in that led to some desperate defending it seemed it was only a matter of time before a proper strike on target would occur.

The game looked set to move up a notch and when the host No 12 (Rob Black) raced through it was disappointing to see him lack control and chip over the bar.  The ever threatening No 9 (Rick Tindall) for the guests had a pop the other end, the sky welcomed yet another wild attempt.  The Poynton pack raced away once more, Challinor collided with the keeper and a corner was earned.  The floater that came was solid (read into that what you will) but luck was not kind and the ball kindly fell to a grateful keeper.  A brace of sorties came, one at each end, like the time Albert Pierpoint ran out of rope and resorted to using knicker elastic, the execution was poor indeed.  During the final upchucks of this sketchy first period Black for Poynton put a sweet ball in that was knocked out to the feet of Simpson who cracked one but missed by a couple of generous feet.  The game got spicy, Challinor for the home lads was throwing himself around like a man with a wasp up his arse, he needed cooling down, a yellow card was the temporary tonic.  After 40 minutes the half was halted and 3 minutes later the two tribes were at it again.

The start to the second period was honest and hard-fought, The Nomads were heaving with desire, the Poynton lads defending rather stoutly.  Things were balanced but a moment of madness tipped the scales when Challinor for Poynton raced through onto a pass but was caught offside.  In his disgruntlement he hoofed the ball off the pitch, he received his second yellow of the evening and was sent off the field of play, the silly sod.  A midfield melee ensued, both teams were bursting with effort but failing to break the stranglehold.  Suddenly some quick thinking by the visiting Rick Tindall saw a throw-in come whilst many were bickering.  The ball went forth toward the box, No 10 (Leon Grandison) was unceremoniously dumped on his arse although it did look an incident without malice.  The referee looked at his linesman and the decision was a penalty - which of course brought uproar.  No 11 (Liam Millen) ignored the protests, stepped up and slotted home in the bottom corner and gave his team a perhaps surprising 0 - 1 lead.

From here on in The Linotype Lads had the better of matters but Poynton dug in with resolute belief and, in the main, gave as good as they got.  Several balls came forth at either end but the pressure applied on the defense was minimal and potential chance after potential chance went begging.  Into the closing minutes we progressed, Grandison was a constant nettle in the opponents rear (ooh heck) but for all the huff and puff the end portrait created was a veritable smudge of sub-success rather than a picture of appealing triumph.  The brushstrokes that came were rushed, full of bloodied intent rather than care and we saw the game wind down and finish with the visiting tribe bagging the full 3 points.  It had been a scrappy match, one fellow cad who came in support of The Nomads proclaimed, in a jovail way, that the game had been 'a load of shit'.  I wouldn't go that far and thought the game had some good points to ponder, one of which may I suggest being the Man of the Match, namely the hosts No 2 (Aaron Clayton), who put in a tidy performance, worked his position well and fought like a good un' throughout - he was unlucky to be on the losing team.  

FINAL THOUGHT - Tonight was a testing game for the punter and a clogged and constipated game for the player.  The pitch was stickier than the arse crack of Eddie Merckx during a 200 mile-uphill race with a lust-laden Marjorie Proops hot on his tail (ooh the agony).  The lads tried though and full marks must be given for the get-up-and-go spirit and the fact that they turned up at all and gave us a match to watch.  Poynton FC look like the haemorrhoids of Charlie Drake, a well-worked and rather tight bunch bunch indeed (Hello My Darlings) and with one or two quick-thinking and dangerous players should pose a threat for any side they come up against.  The Nomads are not a bad unit at all and on the evidence seen so far have the ability to grind out a result when not playing well or hammer in a bundle of goals when the flow is going their way.  I plan to watch a bit more of these localish sides and by doing the odd report perhaps earn them a little more notice.  Although tonight was far from a classic, it was still worth the effort - better than stopping in watching re-run's of 'You're Only Young Twice' - porn for Octogenarians.

Wednesday 18 April 2018

THE UNIMPORTANCE FAILS TO STOP THE EARNEST

16th April 2018 - Cheadle Town 3 v 3 Eccleshall FC - The weather is warming up just as the season approaches the end, it is surely the creation of a perverse mind that has seen many of us dither in the cold, run for shelter when the cruel skies have haemhorraged and swill tea by the bucketload in the hope of generating a little inner thermality.  It is a welcome change and after a day of cycling, wildlifing and sorting out a few trips I arrived at the ground in good time to settle in and have a natter with a few familiar folk.  The match tonight, like many at this time of the year, carried little importance and was one of those latter end fixtures fought for pride and a slightly advanced position rather than an encounter filled with relegation fear or promotion-based hopes.  Despite this I expected a keen contest and one that was perhaps in favour of the home 'erberts.  A recent fixture saw The Greens travel to Ecky's home ground and come away with a  3-4 victory.  Therefore, on form, a home win was on the cards.  We all know about 'form' though, a reliability-free scenario that cons the unwary and sees the gambler caught, over and over again, with his trousers down.  I wisely leave others to make bold public predictions but now and again I suffer a weakening and commit myself without a care - tonight I was going for a 3 - 1 home win, I'll see you at the end of this report, hopefully with privates covered and with a sagacious slant in my scribblings, then again...!

Out came the teams, the initial swing of the pushing pendulum hovered the way of The Town via a free-kick that ended in a tame shot by the wide awake No 11 (Callum Collinson).  Soon after the same team advanced once more, No 10 (Richard Whyatt) to No 9 (Jake Ambrose) and swiftly to No 7 (Michael Sherrington) who walked the ball home and finalised a quite sweet move made slightly easier by some lethargic marking.  Cheadle now added extra pressure and all Eccleshall could offer in return was a bonus-boot that fell into the realms of shittery.  A blank period came, we were in an action-free zone with both teams busting a gut but failing to grasp any chance of glory.  From an Eccy corner, a breakaway came, No 10 (Shay Finney) put in a pearling cross and it was with gnawing disappointment that takers were late on arrival.  The home side were starting to play some decent football, the away team just didn't seem at the races and were still a touch off the pace of the game.  Another Town free-kick, Collinson stepped up and clouted the ball with added dip.  The ball went up and over the wall, fell with pace and needed a firm hand by the visiting No 1 (Matthew Johnson) to see it over.  The corner saw No 4 (Liam Delaney) connect with an overhead hook but the result was poor indeed.  Eccleshall now tried to cultivate a ray of hope, the best they could manage was a shot from No 4 (Jack Warren) but the home No 1 (Daniel Whiting) easily collected.  The visiting tribe though were warming to the task with No 7 (Thomas Wakefield) trying a shot at the angle but again finding fresh air rather than the targeted net.  As The Eagles tried to swoop back in Cheadle flew free, a laser cross was put in to the perilous zone and Whyatt flashed in with an outstretched leg looking to get the killer touch, alas he was a fraction of a second too late, the guest keeper looked a trifle relieved.

Into the back stretch of the first half we went, Cheadle looked to be holding all the trump cards but one should never underestimate the powers of unpredictability within these intriguing leagues.  Eccleshall stemmed the flow, a floated cross was hoofed out but Wakefield cracked one back, got a deflection and earned his side a corner.  The ball was fizzed in with pace, the home defense became static, in glided Wakefield and executed a quite simple header - this mucky and stodgy game was back on a level par.  Within the blinking of a buggered eye Eccleshall were granted another corner after a Cheadle defensive blip.  The globe was put in with equal accuracy and zest, this time The Town dealt with matters and eventually saw the half-out via some scrambling play.  This first 45 hadn't been a classic, I chatted with a fine couple who considered it a real poor show, the second half didn't have much to live up to, it was a bit like following Jimmy Cricket at the London Palladium, things were looking up.

Cheadle Town created the first attack of the second period, a throw in, Whyatt with a cross and Ambrose denied on the line.  The ball was clattered clear, Eccleshall reacted, great flank work from Wakefield saw a cross follow and a header from No 11 (Daniel Needham) that failed to bulge mesh, it should have been nailed if the truth be told.  A Cheadle error allowed The Eck to break again, a pass, a cross and a last minute clearance kept the animation levels high and for a few players it all became too much and tempers flared.  2 bookings were given, one to each team, both pointless.  The game took a turn for the worse, it became a sketchy debacle with the midfield mush producing only the odd hopeful ball for an attacker to try and do something with.  No 8 (Daniel Wood) for Cheadle Town had the next effort, it lacked grace, finesse and...accuracy.  As matters progressed it seemed a goal was the last thing on anyone's mind when suddenly No 14 (Christopher Sherrington) worked the wing and tossed in a half-decent cross.  The keeper came to gather after a moments hesitation.  The ball floated over the mitter's raised arms and dropped into the net - it kind of summed up the quality of the game.  

From here an overdue upswing arose, The Town's intelligent No 2 (Joseph Nield) produced a solid run, put in a delightful ball and was unfortunate not to see the move finalised by a hungry striker. Christopher Sherrington came again, some great feet helped him punt one over to the bonse of Whyatt who saw his effort blocked on the line - now this was more like it!  From here the home lads had a free-kick that was wonderfully delivered, it was regretful that no toe could make contact and nudge home.  Eccleshall bounced back, Needham blazed one across the goal and just missed the far upright.  We returned to the other side of the pitch, No 5 (James Dunn) for The Greens picked up the ball and went on a superb weaving run.  His pass was delectable and it was gratifying in the extreme to see Whyatt collect and slip home with a strikers precision and complete a ruddy fine footballing sequence.  3 - 1 to the hosts, my powers of foresight knew no bounds, bang on the money I was...well until...

Into the last 10 minutes we went, The Eagles were pecking, a free-kick was hammered.  The home No 1 spilled the ball, up stepped Wakefield and nodded home his second whilst giving his team unexpected promise.  The away team  came with desire, one break was interrupted by an offside call, the Eccy bench erupted, they left their seats like synchronised Jack-In-The Boxes, although the language used was not that associated with children's toys.  Cheadle stormed back, Sherrington to No 12 (Luke Cotton) who let rip with a forceful thump.  It looked like icing on the cake but the keeper had other ideas and produced a blinding save, well done that man.  Another fractious moment came, Cheadle were too easily rattled for a team in the lead.  A long discussion between the official came but no action was taken.  A Cheadle player was clobbered soon after, another delay was had.  The match was nearly done, a throw to Eccleshall was taken in an innocuous situation.  A hoof forth was had, a quick pass and in slipped Needham to stun the home crew, to bring joy to his fellow fighters and to give the game the exciting finish very much needed for all we neutral fans.  The referee blew soon after, from a struggle came many surprises and, if truth be told, a score draw was a very fair result for all concerned.  Farewells and a quick chat to the home mitter's Dad and off I pootled, still bewildered by what had transpired.  Man of the Match by the way goes to Eccleshall's No 4 (Jack Warren) - a stout performance with a steady head that helped gain some semblance of decency in a quite vulgar and unappealing contest and also went some way to the Eagle's sharing the spoils.

FINAL THOUGHT - I am usually upbeat about the matches I attend but this was far from an uplifting game although the last 20 minutes did give much consolation and sent me home in a better mood than expected.  Both teams are in the lower half of the table and there was much evidence on show tonight as to why this is the case.  The game at times was too rushed and so lost fluidity and induced frustration.  From the frustration distraction came and therefore focus lost and, when this happens, you can guess the outcome.  The best players on the park were the ones who kept their heads down, that is the way the game should be played, forget what others are getting involved in, do your thing and enthuse your colleagues to follow suit - therein many victories await!  I think next year both squads will have an improved output, I hear changes are afoot at the home club and Eccleshall have improved on last years efforts and no doubt will hope to do the same again.  I can feel a trip coming on, it has been has while since I graced their ground, I best get the diary out.

Sunday 15 April 2018

'WIN'SFORD TAKE ALL

14th April 2018 - Maine Road 0 v 1 Winsford Utd - One wakes up to hear of bombs dropping and wankers in power falling out.  It is par for the human course and if people fall out over things like birds, fungi, football, punk rock and other things that should be enjoyable what fuckin' hope have any of us got with the higher levels.  My advice is to get the head down, don't get distracted by what others do, defy all stupidity, do your bit and do it without thought of gain and oneupmanship - that way progress can be made (hopefully).  So, from the clouds of depressive idiocy I moved, sorted 4 CD reviews, listened to some mighty fine noise (Splintr, The Performance Enhancing Suppositories and Healer of Bastards amongst others), did some household chores, exercised and then sorted some more wildlife stuff.  The rain had been falling from the sky once more, postponements are still a regular occurrence, in between my pootling I kept an eye on twitter to see where I would end up.  It was looking like a long day too, following the footballing I had the 150th Fungalpunk gig lined-up with 5 flavoursome bands to make ones genitals vibrate - what other way is there?  So eventually a game was sorted, and I was dropped off by my 2 lasses (the daughter is home from University for a flying visit - yippee).  I settled in my arse after purchasing a cuppa and a Twix, chatted to a guy whose Grandson was playing for the visitors, produced quill and parchment and set to scribbling my thoughts, I hope ye enjoy the outcome!

Both teams flew out of the blocks quicker than Alan Wells with the prostate doctor after him (ungloved of course).  A neat ball from Road's No 7 (Jack Langford) caused slight concern for the visiting back pack and was booted behind for a corner.  The ball was put in, the MR No 8 (Ben Davison) connected firmly with the crust but saw the ball fly wide - it could have easily been the most perfect start.  Both units were like the bowels of a baboon after a night on the Grapefruit Wine and laden with good movement.  However, the next chance was defecated forth by the Winsford pack and saw a superb cross come in and nearly meet the head of the incoming poacher No 11 (Declan Daniels). The home mittman was on his toes, came out and punched firmly - he caught both ball and player, a break was had whilst the rattled head found its bearings - ouch!  From here The Road started to play the better football with a sweet ball to No 10 (Jamie Roe) who crossed with accuracy only to see no risk takers arrive.  Winsford reacted to this moment with electrified pace down the flank followed by a cross that led to No 10 (Callum Gardner) and Daniels indulge in some sharp link up play.  The latter chap had the final crack on goal, the save that came was tidy and the ensuing corner easily dealt with.  Winsford were now allowed to get back into matters as The Road gave them too much comfort time on the ball.  Another move soon after could have easily brought the opening goal but No 9 (Perry Bircumshaw) flashed the globe too high and the hosts could breathe again.

Now the guests sensed blood, No 8 (Michael Taylor)  put in a ball, all heads missed it and the bounce nearly beat the mitter who flew fast to his left and produced a quality one handed save. The corner came, it was punched out, No 4 (James Rothwell) belted back but missed the target by a couple of feet, this was good pressure nonetheless.  We had a intriguing contest on our hands with the action swinging one way then the other (please add own jokes about pendulous testicles here).  The home team cultivated a couple of promising moments, both were halted by some quite rock solid defending and when a ball came forth and Langford had a final toe poke amid some in-box panic the shot was, once again, blocked by another reliable carcass.  To the opposite end of the field we went next, a free-kick was given to Winsford and whilst several Maine Road players still sorted out their positions the ball was pumped in and No 3 (Lee Duckworth) made his appearance felt without any sort of pressure and nutted home with comfortable ease.  The goal was too simple by half and the side on the receiving end now started to push with purpose with Roe whirring his legs and putting in one decent ball and one that was absolutely poxy - hope was still high!

The final thrusts of the first half came, No 7 (Ryan Steele) of Winsford blazed one over the bar then the speed of the Town's passing was too much for the hosts with balls sprayed from this side to t'other before no 2 (Damien Skolorzynski) belted one and forced the keeper into making a very strong save.  A corner followed, the No 1 (Ryan Livesey) came and punched but was caught in No Man's Land.  A chip was attempted to bring blushes to the buttocks of the gloved guardian but the execution was woeful and peril passed.  The Road tried to build through nothing more than sheer determination, No 11 (Chrysty O' Brien) was running hard but he couldn't provide a release valve for the rising pressure of his rear guard comrades.  2 corners and 2 free-kicks came from Winsford, The Road survived but the marking was sketchy, they had their No 4 (Jonathon Mason) to thank for keeping them in this one.

Half-time, a piddle and a chinwag and a wander to the far side of the ground where the sun was shining.  Yes, sunshine, that rare commodity that affects mad dogs, Englishmen and those odd people who like to grow Watercress from their jacksies.  I am not into this new Rectal Gardening fad, give me a few tulips grown between the mammaries of a buxom Gorilla and I have no complaints!  I proceeded to take my pills, the teams came out, darn these tangents!

And to half two, the sun-kissed blades of verdant green welcomed the players, the start was quiet and a summery feel added a quaint but emotive pleasure to the matters at hand.  From this settled start a ball came that saw a Road forward dash from the midfield and get almost comically upended by a rather lax goalkeeper.  It was a mental black-out, it was rewarded with the prescribed red card, the No 1 marched off, the Winsford mob eventually found a man willing to take over the 'between the sticks' position and the awarded free-kick was banged straight into the wall.  From here a pattern became apparent, The Road were trying to up the passion and pace levels, Winsford were looking to soak and spring and catch their attackers on the hop.  One of the substitutes for the travellers produced some neat footwork but finalised matters with a weak shot and up the other end the replacement goalie went walkabout, got caught dribbling and was spared being caught with his trousers down by a generous referee who awarded a free-kick.  Road pushed on, all their efforts were being denied by a robust Winsford unit who were putting their heads on the majority of any airborne ball and also working as a complete unit rather than distant components.  A few bookings followed, several tempers became heated, it was all eating into the clock, something Maine Road had to do their utmost to avoid.  

The next attack came via the ten-man team, No 12 (Mike Koral)  played a nice pass to Taylor who rattled hard but couldn't keep the globe down.  A corner was given for whatever reason, the keeper dealt with it and started a quick breakaway.  The Road, like the B-movie porn start, Peter Pencil Pecker, lacked width, and like Mr Pecker's co-star, Julie Jelly Hips, lacked any telling thrust. The move ended with a flaccid finish, all loose ends were tucked back into the 'Try Again' trousers, at this rate the seams would be splitting and a few more balls will be going to waste. The match had a balanced period but all the while no shots came towards the guests netting. Winsford always looked dangerous on the break and made sure their opponents could never fully relax and adopt a fear-free, fervid spirit.  As time ticked by Langford for the home heads had a shot, a yellow card was given to their No 9 (Jack Coop) and a lot of composure-free effort came to no avail.  The team with one man down stood firm and were never really put under any sort of cosh and when 90 minutes were up they took all 3 points in fully deserving style.  There was disgruntlement with the home fans, relief with the away peeps, I could understand both emotions.  As for Man of the Match, well I reckon No 3 (Lee Duckworth) For Winsford Town was as honest as anyone on the park and was a vital component in a defensive unit that kept tight, organised and efficient.  Communication was constant and a constant eye was kept on trying to play the odd sneaky ball over the top and make much mischief.

FINAL THOUGHT - Take a look at the Premier League table and you will see how important this match was and what an initial blast-hole it is in the starboard side of the sinking ship SS Maine Road.  The team are letting in waters of worry, the tide of tension is rising and all concerned need to start bailing with belief and working as a controlled and efficient unit making sure when chances arise they stay composed and make opponents pay.  Width is the key I think, make sure both flanks are used, teams are stretched and therefore gaps made.   The battle isn't over yet but man, this crew are walking the plank and things are getting mighty precarious with the Division One sharks ready to feed.  Winsford Town, In my opinion, should not be where they are and should have been clear of danger long ago.  They boast many good players, have a good set-up at home and are surely better than their position suggests. They have fallen victim though to a topsy-turvy season with many strange results, disrupting backlogs and a league that has exhibited a whole heap of inconsistency.  The campaign now needs seeing out and maybe a few extra points adding to create a more suitable finishing shine to matters and then, before we know it...we'll be all at it again - madness indeed!