CRUISING CURZ

5th February 2019 - Chadderton FC 0 v 8 Curzon Ashton - My arse is on fire of late as I gallop headlong trying to keep up with many areas of my life and continue to do 'too much'.  Passion is not a fashion, it is an in-built idiocy with the aim to 'put back for fuck all' the key.  Tis the punk streak, it gets on my tits but I wouldn't have it any other way - perhaps I am a pervert after all.   The day was spent at work followed by a trip to the docs to check the old plumbing system out - the wotsits are still burning, I am a kidney stone sufferer but it is always better to be safe - plus the doctor has big hands with 'cock' and 'arse' tattooed on his unwashed fingers.  To be examined 'down below' can be quite a thrill and it doesn't cost a thing - see perverse through and through.  After the missus arrived home from work I discussed my medical molestation, she seemed indifferent so we wrapped up warm and headed out to this Manchester FA Cup tie hopefully for a stunner.  STP Stu was in attendance, we had a cuppa and a chinwag - I tried to advise him that a cure for baldness is having one's rectum prodded by a man of medicine - he was also indifferent.  We took up our evenings hot-spots, I scribbled notes on what I saw - here is the outcome.

No sooner had the globe got rolling than Curzon Ashton advanced with purpose via No 11 (Luke Wall) who tried an audacious curler (sounds painful) and only just missed the target zone.  Within the shake of a vagabond's todger the same team were marauding forth again with No 7 (Oliver Crankshaw) at the helm and duly getting bungled over in the box.  The contact looked accidental but a penalty was given and Crankshaw stepped up and slammed home in comfortable style. My pen scribbled away, I full-stopped and looked up and witnessed Crankshaw dash with his arse ablaze.  Head down, focus at level 'max' - he progressed, entered the danger zone and was tumbled.   The second penalty of the night was given and as Crankshaw took a rest on the sideline Wall clouted home with ease.  The guests were 2 goals to the good after only 7 minutes and it all became too much for one fan who duly prematurely ejaculated his throbbing flare and gave off a green haze for all and sundry to get choked by - nowt wrong with getting worked up I suppose but it seemed a trifle early to billow ones clouds I thought.  As the emerald miasma dissipated Chadderton began to compete, some excellent passing allowed No 4 (Jordan Butterworth) to pass, receive and release, forcing the visiting No 1 (Cameron Mason) to produce a tidy full-length save.  In response Curzon flew the flank, a low cross ensued and missed all.  No 9 (Lewis Reilley) pounced on the loose ball quicker than a testicle-obsessed deviant, was allowed to turn by some rather lax defenders and fired home through the mush of hesitant guardians.  

The game now went into a terse quiet spell with Curzon always in 'cruise control'. Wall chanced his shank with a shot that had too much uplift and No 8 (John McAtee) sent in a daisy beheader just shy of the mark.  A moment to savour was nearly had next when Curzon's Reilley tried to hit the netting with a long range loft from the halfway line.  It was bang on target and the home keeper (Dale Latham) did well to keep his bearings and block on the line - now that would have been insulting.  Chadderton eventually cultivated something akin to a chance when a free-kick was knocked in by No 11 (Jack Ward) with No 5 (Devon Matthews) putting in a delicate crust only to find the keeper up to the task and turning the ball behind.  The corner in was blasted, the end touch home failed to arrive - we stayed as we were.  As the clock ticked Curzon reignited their drive, a pace-riddled move came, No 3 (Cameron McJannet) galloped away, put in a choice cross for McAtee to nut easily home.  A lovely goal built on simplistic desire - 0 - 4 - what next I hear you ask?  

The rain now became ghastly and fell in angled needles with much spite and a vicious chill.  The traffic remained one way - Chadderton could only manage a couple of free-kicks, both were ineffective.  The travelling team came again, McJannet scuffed a shot, Reilley gathered and attempted an impish back-heel, it went just wide.  Soon after the same pack hunted for glory once more - an angled low cross came from the watery murk, Reilley was in the right place at the right time and tapped home - it completed a fine first half display from a team 84 league places ahead of their opponents.  Crankshaw had an effort palmed away before the break, a corner was eventually dealt with and then the referee blew to save the home teams pain and give us all a chance to mull over the game thus far.

Halftime and we stayed put - the rain was evil, I didn't want to get my wonderful flowing locks wet as I had a date after the match with a local bent vicar - Father Lovelob of St Flanges - what a sexy kisser he is!  My missus would be taking photo's of course for the local parish magazine - one has to be transparent about these things.

And to the game - the teams came out - Chadderton gave a good account of themselves despite the deficit and played some good pass and move football.  A penalty shout was optimistic, a free kick by Ward resulted in a crafty shot that wasn't far off the mark and then a fluent move came that deserved a goal but the end shot was nothing short of 'shite'.  Curzon were still in the changing rooms as Ward had another dig, this time deflected wide with the corner by the same player almost sneaking straight into the net but the keeper was too alert and dealt with matters safely.  A few subs came each way, Curzon had their first real attack, Wall was at the apex of the incident and picked up the ball, cut inwards and buried with aplomb - the difference between the two sides was encapsulated - the visitors were quicker, more direct, more efficient.  Curzon Ashton now marched onward, Chadderton defending with desperation at times, and then breaking with classy liquidity but finalising matters with a rushed and wayward shot.  The guests responded with a corner, the ball was booted to the near post, No 10 (Reece Deakin) was there to head home - the lucky seven was had and then a ball came not long after with No 12 (Ryan Brooke) on hand to impudently touch home with his back heel and round off a fantastic night's work against a team very much out of their depth.  

Chadderton had one last thrust in the latter stages, No 14 (Oumar Camara) was denied by a keeper very much determined to keep his sheet unblemished and keep his defender's on their sodden and well-worked toes.  Curzon had the final punt of the night with a solid strike well saved and then we were done.  This had been a stroll in the park and the Man of the Match goes to Curzon Ashton's No 11 (Luke Wall) for two goals, an incessant running performance and a commitment to the cause lasting for the full 90 minute stint.  On a night such as this, with three quick goals in the bag, it could be so easy to take the foot off the gas - not so here.  We wandered off with many things to ponder - I don't mind the odd goal fest - a shame it couldn't have been a closer game though.

FINAL THOUGHT - Well, Curzon Ashton march on to the final of the Manchester Premier Cup and who is to say they won't lift the trophy come final day.   Tonight they played lower league opposition but did so in a ruthless manner with a fine cutting edge and an array of options always available during the one-sided game.  Pace was plentiful, quick thinking apparent and an ability to read each others movements was blatantly obvious.  I may just dabble outside the lower echelons and catch these guys at some point - a change is always a crucial thing and it would be good to see how they fair against equivalent opposition.  The job tonight was a good un' - well done chaps.   Chadderton FC came, got cobbled and left with heads down.  They put in their all, were just outclassed but they should be proud of their attitude and the fact that they stuck at matters right up until the final whistle. Sometimes the uphill struggle takes no prisoners and the game can be a cruel blighter.  The true test of a team is how they come out the other end of a beating, what they learn from the lesson and how they put the new knowledge to good use.  I always enjoy my ventures to the Andrew Stadium, there will be many more and I hope no thrashings of the kind witnessed tonight.  Talking of thrashings - I hope that Vicar doesn't brandish his purple-tipped sceptre tonight - my rear end is a little sore of late - darn religion.