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.
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