AND FROM THE FLOODS...

16th March 2019 - Stockport Town 8 v 0 Stone Old Alleynians - The week was done, a week that had seen me keep up to date with the Joe 90 series, crack on at work and run around like an electric fart on steroids (whatever that means).  I had also been collecting some timber and started work on an Ark due to the recent downpours - call me a trifle previous but if the rain stays as it is I will be floating along with a smile on my face, with my loved ones on board and a whole array of animal shit to shovel overboard onto your doubting heads - you have been warned.  The morn was spent varnishing my plank (no, not a masturbation euphemism) and attaching it to the port side of the said craft.  Dinner was had, a maiden journey across the seas of Stockport taken, navigating such oceanic delights as The Blue Pyramid of Chavvery, the Plaza Straits and of course, the Mersey Basin.  We arrived at our footballing island in good time, my lady had to attend to a few animals on board, namely a goat with a leaking testicle, a hedgehog with a personality complex and a Spider Monkey with a moulting chuff.  She sailed into the distance, I bade her 'bon voyage' and entered the Stockport Sports Arena to await 90 minutes of head-clearing action.  Of late I had seen many goals, today I expected a very close affair with a draw the more likely outcome.   So, I took my seating position, had a good read of my latest PG Wodehouse book and then saluted and exchanged words with a few grand folk (John D and Abbey Hey Pete take your bows).  I tried to warn them of the diluvial doom that was on its way - they suggested I pull my self together, get my 'Popeye' tattoo removed and stop listening to Brother Noodle at the local Monastery.  I took the hint, concentrated on the game, here is what dripped forth from the tip of my pen.  If you think my ramblings fantastical, wait 'til you read what went on here!

On sodden turf of astro style the teams began to pursue the dampened orb, the elusive spherical bastard so many of us are mesmerised by.  The first troop of participants to take the porker by the plonker were the hosts with No 9 (Gavin Salmon) chasing down a lost cause, forcing the goalkeeper's kick to be rushed, clattering into the globe and being unfortunate to see the ball land back at the keepers feet.  Stone eventually began to gather themselves, 3 passes came and No 2 (William Byers) sent in a firm range finder that boomed over the horizontal.  The hosts were far from settled, they were just not getting enough time to consider with the guest No 7 (Michael Williams) seemingly a very effective component early on.  This noted player was involved in the next action when he blocked a firm effort from his opposite number (Reece Skelton) who was at the apex of a break and shot with hunger. The Town were soon driving headlong into the rain again, No 11 (George Blackwell) harried, caused a defensive faux pas with a wild miskick somehow skewing  down to the mittman's feet who duly clobbered clear.  The Old Alleynians responded, a ball out wide was lofted back in with ample elevation.  No 11 (Jacob Vernon) was waiting, he put his coconut on the leather, the outcome was off-target.  

The game was on a knife-edge, it was still as close as predicted.  Salmon for the hosts dashed, was tumbled, a free-kick earned.  The knock in was wonderfully precise, Salmon leapt like his fishy namesake and nutted the ball into the net with graceful measure - what an easy goal.  From here the home lads grew in stature and sanguinity, they swept forth, Salmon exposed great strength and fed Blackwell who darted, crossed and saw No 8 (Kiarno Samms) take a first time touch.  The save that followed was crucial, the ensuing corner dealt with.  From here The Lions roared, they displayed a greater urgency and kept each other enthused.  A delay was followed by a home free-kick, Salmon received, took a punt through a crowd of players.  The keeper dove, partially saved but the impetus of the ball carried it over the line - 2 - 0 - well who would have thought it?

The visiting tribe had a terse period of ball ownership but looked a little lackadaisical when entering the final third.  Stockport broke again, impetus and desire were high, Blackwell linked and crossed, No 6 (Oliver Davies) for Stone produced some great defensive work and gave away a corner that was snuffed out. The guests put in a nice passing sequence next, at the latter end was No 10 (Luke Askey) who sent forth a low driller that wasn't a killer and was saved by the home No 1 (Andrei Stinca).  Again the resident team reacted, a corner had and played with a flick header just missing the target zone.  During the last gasps of the first 45 minutes the home No 3 (Jack McConnell) rifled in a close blazer that was quelled.  From yet another Stockport Town foray Stone caught them napping with a long ball over the top that their No 9 (Jack Tomlinson) galloped onto.   The keeper was there to beat, the gloved one held his ground and when the shot came he blocked well and made sure his side went into the break 2 goals to the good.

For half-time I stayed put and nattered to the aforementioned enthusiasts.  The weather was utterly awful, the game though, so far, was keeping me warm.

The second half began with The Lions showing greatest hunger, No 10 (Robert Lofthouse) had an early boomer that struck the bar and brought up great gasps from the brave souls in attendance.  The same side were soon at it again, a ball down the wing saw a sweet flick from Samms release No 2 (Joshua Robinson) who sensed glory, charged forth, eyed the far corner and coolly slid the ball home.  It was a quick and decisive move, a defining moment and when Stone tried to respond and were hit with a break, their hearts were broken when Salmon gathered, spurted and released.  A wicked deflection left the keeper with no chance whatsoever, the net was bulged and the game finally put out of reach.  The four goals were utterly deserved and a short quiet spell was welcome and gave me time to gather my thoughts and chew a few flavoursome toffee drumsticks.

As I earnestly masticated, Blackwell for the home team wandered, weaved and shot.  Again Davies for the visitors produced a fine bit of defending and from off the line knocked the spherical projectile behind.  The resultant corner brought little joy, Stone managed to survive and win a free-kick down the other end.  The ball played was direct, Askey nudged on with the noggin, Tomlinson nipped in but the final touch was soft.  The resident pack found the net again soon after, alas offside pissed on their chips but a free-kick moments later was whipped forth, numerous players were flying in and yet again Davies was there to clear - fantastic work sir.  A corner and a free-kick were dealt with, a delay allowed The Town to collect themselves and spring an attack.  Samms threaded a stunning pass, Blackwell was on it, dinked one over the prostrate keeper and it was 5 of the best and an unassailable lead had.

The back end of the game was on us, a Starling flew over through the falling liquid needles no doubt miffed at the weather and surprised at the scoreline going on below.  As the flapping wonder buggered off into the murk once more the leading team came,   A near-post corner was flicked on and just went over and then No 14 (Kyle Foley) received a stunning long pass and let rip a rasper (no, not rectally) that the keeper did well to tip over.  The angled kick came, the protector of the mesh dropped, Samms pounced like a python on a hotdog and placed home much to his great delight.  Within a twitch of the aforementioned Python's nipples (if indeed snakes do have the said pap-attachments) a free-kick came the same way, Samms received knocked in a simple ball and oh baby, the lucky seven was had.  Once again the celebration was ecstatic and the same player had a chance for his hattrick not long after due to some persistent hassling that brought about an untoward error.  The player worked into space, the goal was gaping wider than the rear end of Farmer Giles after that infamous incident with the prize artichoke.  The blood rose, the ball struck, three-goal triumph beckoned - bang, the upright quivered (no not that one) the miss was shocking, the player took it all in his stride.  

And to the final fling and we all thought we were done. Not so, the Squad of Stoners were being dragged all ways, a ball split the rear (ouch) Blackwell collected, the keeper was lobbed - kaboom - Stockport's biggest win and all done and dusted we were.  Wow - this had been some performance and a Man of the Match award goes to No 9 (Gavin Salmon) of Stockport Town for his time on the field that, from the off, set a tempo and an attitude, displayed a striker's heart that yearned for goals and of course, for the 3 strikes had that were ruddy well deserved.   I applauded the players off the pitch, had a chat with Club Secretary Rob and then pootled off in the rain - once more, what a pleasure.

FINAL THOUGHT - Man, oh man, where did this one come from?  Stockport Town weren't lucky today, they deserved everything they got and in truth they could have reached double figures with a touch of extra fortune.  Some days everything comes together and the rewards are untold but the team who grabbed the 8 strikes were desirous, constantly nattering and sharper all over the pitch,   They started the season in stuttering style, the turnaround has been marvellous, with the same set of players next year I think magical things may occur.  This was a masterclass of what can be done if one is willing to learn, believe and apply oneself for 90 minutes - the applause are mine.   Stone Old Alleynians looked a tired force today, a team who just couldn't get going and who looked a trifle fed up at the halfway point.  The fact is, they are second in the league and you don't get there if you are shite.  They will bounce back, I think a break is needed just to recharge the batteries and find the spark that got them to where they are.  It could be a long run in for the lads but they can be proud of their efforts so far.  I am due a trip to watch them play at home, I suspect they won't be losing that one 8 - 0 - then again, this Non-League lark never fails to astound - bloody great isn't it!