20th November 2018 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 3 v 0 Cammell Laird 1907 - The thermals are dropping, the inner guts of the season are being exposed and as teams do battle on slutch-splattered grounds it is now, and only now, that those with hope will expose their true colours and those in the mire will be bogged down and have to fight for their lives from here on in. Steam will rise, verbals of frustration will fracture frosted air and eyes will spy possible end glory whilst others will ponder the scarred and cruel pitches that hold so many tortuous twists and turns. This is all part of the Non-League drama, the on-going saga that holds many of us transfixed and permanently on the edge of our mix and match, haemorrhoid inducing seats. Thankfully my chuff is free from the anguish of Nobby Stiles and I can park my arse, watch the game and have no fear of a bleeding ring - unless of course I fall victim to Nasty Nob Norman who is said to lurk in the nearby shrubbery and pounce on any distracted supporter and give them a non-soccerised seeing to - ooh heck, thank goodness for my barbed wire underpants! Arriving in good time, I met up with STP Stu, exchanged words of wisdom and wankery with many faces and prepared for the latest globe-hoofing installment. The liquid of tan was purchased and downed, a choccy bar a ruddy necessity and as I took my seat, adjusting the aforementioned undies so has to avoid a circumcision, this is what my salivating appetite was served up.
The start was slightly fractured with a couple of gratis digs for the hosts akin to the barren titties of romantic scribbler Barbara Cartland - producing nowt. The Laird looked to pounce back with sharp, flashing counters, No 7 (Joshua Donnelly) swung his shank trying to catch the wandering mitter off his line but the ball, quite disappointingly, floated shy of the target. Suddenly, from the humping desire, a child of hope was spilled forth as a sweeping relaxation of the attacking muscles allowed a run down the flank to arise and a zipping cross to find the ever-available feet of No 9 (Richard Tindall). The man with an eye for goal was a mere couple of feet out, the zone of glory awaited a penetration (ooh heck I am going all pornographic again) but the feet were over-zealous, the sights not set and the ball was boomed into the misted sable air. It was, to put it mildly, like the arse of Oliver Hardy after a night on the curry - a ruddy stinker! A few early niggles were noted at this stage, a couple of rough and ready tackles flew in, the referee cooled matters with the exposure of his yellow card. The game continued at a hectic pace, The Laird had a period where they looked to display the greatest potency but in the main this was end to end stuff awaiting someone to provide a real sting in the tail. The guests did come close when a free-kick found an advanced bod but the player was surprised by the pace of the cross and duly nutted over - the stalemate continued.
This was a getting a tough one to call with a long ball by the traveller's catching the Nomads on the hop and the No 2 (Ben Dutton-Kelly) allowed to nip in on the blind side. The mittman was in two-minds, a shot eventually came and somehow the home No 1 (Aaron Tyrer) recovered - what a lucky blighter. As the game was still up for grabs I thought Cheadle were guilty of playing one too many touches and Cammell Laird culpable of playing with too much frenzy. Something had to give, and give it did, in the most unlikeliest of circumstances. A throw to the guests, a pilfering was had, a pass followed and Tindall chased. The cause was looking to be lost but the Nomadic frontman refused to give up and the keeper was put under untold pressure and was duly robbed and left to watch the globe be tickled home. The breakthrough had been had, an example of how to 'never say die' was emitted by a goal hungry 'erbert, these often overlooked examples are what can make or break a side - nice work for sure. A few yellows were shown, No 10 (Peter Moore) for the Lairds sent in a dipper that defied gravity and Dutton-Kelly was putting in a cracking stint but all the while Cheadle remained controlled, full of gusto and playing with a fluency to be applauded. The half ended, time for a brew methinks.
A wander for the cha', lo and behold Pete from Abbey Hey was met up with and joined us for the second half. It was good to catch up with this Non-League gent and despite serving a 10 month stint in prison for stalking the illegitimate son of Marjorie Proops (something to do with green shield stamps I think) it was good to see him in fine fettle. And then, the teams re-appeared...
From the opening whistle of this follow-up period Cammell Laird 1907 were working hard and forcing the hosts on the back peg. A free-kick was earned from much hassle, Moore put in a low driller - alas it was not a killer but soon after No 11 (Ryan Burke) bust a gut, was involved in a 2 pass link up and launched one to the top corner - the goal was lucky to escape unblemished. Cheadle responded, a pass out wide came back in and No 8 (Philip Yuillie) put a shot on target that was comfortably dealt with by the keeper. A corner followed due to some great work by No 2 (Jack Warren), the ball in was decent enough but a clobbered keeper marred matters somewhat. Another corner was free of contact and Yuille should have buried when he was in free space and put nut on ball - the contact however was too meaty. As the game progressed the Nomads put together some quite magical passing sequences one of which was finished with a booming shot off target that could easily have been a contender for goal of the season - unlucky chaps. It was all Cheadle now, No 11 (Stephen Kirby) let fly and the mitter could only fumble around the upright. The corner that followed was decent enough, but Cammell Laird survived and tried to quell the impetus.
A break was had for a diabetic player who needed a fix (and why not, only decent methinks) but once proceedings carried on the hosts breezed forth with another slick passing move that culminated in a cross and a cultured and delicate touch by No 10 (Leon Grandison) that brought up the second strike of the night and put the home lads well and truly in control. From here the travellers worked with ardour, a cross, a shot, confusion and a header all came in one feisty flurry but Cheadle survived, broke with zest that saw Grandison drive forth with the keeper to beat. The gap between the striker and the man between the sticks decreased, the option to pass was taken, Tindall was there to bury, instead he hit the keepers legs and had missed his second sitter of the night much to the verbal disgruntlement of a nearby onlooker who compared it to a Stevie Wonder moment. A trifle harsh one thinks, surely even Mr Wonder could have buried that one (wink, wink). These misdemeanors however duly happen and are best soon forgotten and cast away from slanderous environs I sometimes encounter. Onwards the hosts came, a sweet cross needed the slightest nudge home but the toes of Grandison were millimetres away and the visitors still had hope. A sending off for Lairds finished the game as a contest and as I nipped for a quick piddle, retook my seat, I was in time to see Tindall rubber-stamped his efforts with a steady goal that certainly put this game out of reach - a moment that was good to see and will hopefully stop a few death threats coming his way after the aforementioned bloopers. During the final seconds Grandison laid one off to Tindall who tried to grab his hat-trick with a sublime chip - the ball took to the air, began to fall and pinged off the upperside of the bar - and then we were done. Man of the Match could go to many a player from both sides but No 5 (Joe Hare) for Cheadle Heath Nomads was a subtle and stubborn giant at the back and stuck to his task with quiet dedication and rarely let a ball pass during a performance that indicated some real quality. A crucial cog in an efficient wheel that will help the Heath to roll on to bigger and better things.
FINAL THOUGHT - So Cheadle Heath Nomads move onwards and have put together a couple of back to back wins that sees them settle down in 5th position with the front-runner very much in their sights. A couple more wins to keep the sequence going and the festive period could be a very interesting time indeed. Santa may come and empty his sack in any manner of ways but this time, rather that ejaculating forth some soggy satsuma's of misery he could be spraying tangerines of potential triumph for those hungry enough, to suck on (I just hope in all this fruit-based thrusting he doesn't forget my train-set and big-balled Action Man). Cammell Laird 1907 are no mugs and one or two players tonight were bang on the mark. They play with a swift precision, steam away and have a good encouraging factor in their ranks that never let up until the final whistle came. I like that attitude, it will keep the team honest and competitive, tonight they met a good unit on form and sometimes there ain't nowt you can do. If they are writing their Christmas List early there is very little they could ask for - a touch of fortune perhaps, a bottle of Valium just to keep things a little less frenzied and perhaps a signed nude poster of Jimmy Tarbuck that they could hang in their changing rooms and make sure they come out fired up (it takes all sorts tha' knows). It has been a while since we have visited The Kirklands Ground, I must alter the diary and when we do get down there I expect them to be in a far loftier position! To add, during the creation of this report no formal complaints were received from the Barabara Cartland Estate and Mr Richard Tindall is booked in to Spec Savers next Thursday at 1pm, I think a pair of pink framed pebble-glasses will suit him down to the ground!
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