'O' WHAT JOY

26th August 2019 - FC Oswestry 2 v 1 Vauxhall Motors - A lovely day this, a drive down to Oswestry was had with the car windows down, the misty morn just cracking beneath the growing sun and my head absorbed the beautiful textured literary work of Guy de Maupassant.  We had a walk at Ifton Meadows in stunning sun with a fine fungal seeking friend, clocked up a list of myco-magic and added some flowers and bugs and then went back to the kind fellow's gaff and had tea and home-made cake on the lawn with his good lady.  We found a species of fungus we hadn't seen before growing in his garden and enjoyed a jolly good chat.  From here we drove 5 minutes down the road and arrived at The Venue to watch FC Oswestry play Vauxhall Motors in a top of the table clash - we had chips and tea on the balcony and I saw 4 species of butterfly whizz by, namely a Painted Lady, a Red Admiral, a Small White and a Small Tortoiseshell.  After our efforts and scram we were a trifle soporific and nearly dozed off, luckily 3pm came quick enough and the match was a decent do.  To show I was wide awake (honest) here are my scribblings regarding what transpired.

The early running of this game came via the O's who won 2 bonus boots, the second of which was dangerously delivered by No 10 (Michael O'Reilly) right into the tender spot of the perilous zone.  The slightest touch would have undoubtedly borne a goal, alas for the hosts and the supporters, it didn't arrive.  The visiting squad now passed with caution and patience before surging via the nippy No 7 (Joe Brandon) who won a corner kick.  The ball in was short, a swift break ensued, 2 passes and down the wing the home team went with No 7 (Harry Bower) holding the ball up, passing back and watching a pin-point accurate cross find the nut of O'Reilly who knocked the ball downward into the net and joyously completed a quite scintillating move.  From here the hosts advanced once more, No 11 (Simon Smith) was absolutely clobbered on the flank by the visiting No 6 (Joseph Heath), the latter being lucky to get away with a yellow card.  The free-kick bore no fruit.

As the game progressed the VM Brigade began to really force the issue with a new found urgency and a determination to keep their opponents on the back foot.  A free-kick by No 11 (Ben Holmes) was knocked over the bar and then the home team were hustled off the ball soon after, the V's Brandon exposed blistering pace down the wing, passed inward, a touch and another pass followed with Holmes the final recipient and eventually having a dig that was low and, unfortunately, wide.

A drinks break followed, the away team manager was far from impressed with the hindrance to his team's flow - some people are just never happy.  The game continued, a couple of niggling fouls came, the trailing pack were getting a little frustrated by the opposition's resilience.  Composure now went for a toilet break and left the teams panic-ridden, another V's corner came, the hosts were like a nun in a whorehouse and impressively impervious to all attempts at penetration.  Again Squadron VM flew forth in formation, again the military organisation of the Oswestry Army resisted and then counter-attacked with all guns blazing.  A solid cross-field ball was applauded, an equally admirable knock into the danger area was had, Bower was appointed the sniper and duly dashed in, coolly executed and doubled his sides lead.  2 goals, 2 absolute stunners and an example of how to lie in ambush and pounce when the guard is down.  The half eventually ended with more pressure from the guests, it was all to no avail.  

We stayed put for the break, we were doped up to buggery and felt like a couple of ganja heads just after running a marathion.  The heat was clammy, we are busy folk, by heck we both could have snoozed which was a surprise because this match was a good un'.

Period 2 began with the Vauxhall lads straight on it and desperate to get back into this one.  The first onslaught ended with a boom over the bar from No 10 (Joseph Sullivan) and then Brandon was like a wasp in the underpants and making a real nuisance of himself.  2 defenders were attending to the buzzing blighter, a mess was made and the sting in the tail was exposed when the referee watched the attacker tumble and then pointed to the penalty spot.  Up stepped No 9 (Karl Noon) and struck the ball firmly into the bottom corner - the game had suddenly taken on a whole new dimension.  

With the flames further licking at the arse of intrigue the next goal was utterly crucial and would definitely determine where the points would ultimately go.  The home keeper tried to piss on the chips of VM promise with some blatant dawdling, his name went in the book.  The home team pounced once more, another quite sensational cross-field ball found the ever-willing and more often than not effective Bower.  The frontman collected, took one touch and had a look at goal before releasing a low fizzer that just missed the far stick - now that could have been game, set and match.

A disjointed sequence of play came, too many stray balls and mistimed runs put pay to any serious chances being had but all the while the guests looked like the team on top and determined to achieve parity in a very competitive game. As the tidal wave grew the resident team looked far from settled in defence but remained resolute and battled for every loose ball.  A couple of tasty shots came at their goal, carcasses were flung, blocks were made, a flash shot from No 12 (Michael Burkey) sailed over, there was suddenly only 10 minutes left on the clock.

The closing stages saw the pattern of play set in stone, the V's took on the role of the hungry wolf, they huffed and puffed but couldn't blow the blue piggy's house down and if anything the home 'Oinkers' could have grabbed a 3rd if Bower had been a fraction quicker and relieved an overly-relaxed keeper of the ball.  The finish was frantic, the last attempt at bulging the net was by No 3 (Greg Drummond) of the travellers who sent one through a crowd of legs only to see the globe fly the wrong side of the vertical.  The game ended with all players earning their crust, FC Oswestry hung on, the Man of the Match goes to their No 7 (Harry Bower) who never fails to impress with a cracking work-rate, a willingness to work back and forth and for being the eternal release valve - a key component in a very efficient team that is for sure.

FINAL THOUGHT - The top two teams in the league and on this evidence you can see why.  Vauxhall Motors are a strong side, they pass and move well and have an ability to retain possession and bide their time.  They play the full pitch, prod and poke with the temperament of a spiteful dentist, and so far this year have extracted many a victory from their dabblings.  Today they were denied by a team who refused to buckle under much pressure, who battled for the entire 90 minutes and who displayed a discipline last seen by Fatty Arbuckle when faced with a choice between death and a bag of gumballs.  The hosts were a regiment well drilled in their duties, willing to put the work in and ultimately that little bit more industrious when it mattered.  If, on a day, when they had less possession than their opponents, they can still grab a win, what can they do when they are on top of proceedings, well the points tally so far answers that question.  Having mulled over the end result though I think Vauxhall Motors will definitely be in the shake-up and FC Oswestry will have to dig in and work their socks off for the entire season to stay up top.  Many a team will come with a surge, it is a competitive league to say the least - let us see what is happening in a few weeks time to see if potential has been met.

SCALY WINGS, SOIL, STUDS, SONICA AND SPIKES

24th August 2019 - Maine Road 4 v 1 Cheadle Heath Nomads - Up before 7am and through the moth trap I went.  The outcome, 100 scale-winged gems of 22 species, all were recorded, breakfast was had and then out to shift some soil from the Mother-in-Law's garden it was.  The morn whizzed by, I duly dusted down and was dropped off at Maine Road's ground 2 and half hours before kick off (it saved going home and coming back again).  I settled down in the sun after a chat with the Nomads coach, Dave Potter, and indulged my grey gunk in the world of James Bond.  Eventually I had a good natter to the guy on the gate, STP Stu arrived, we nattered some more, had a cuppa with the Nomads doofers and John D before heading out in the sun.  Spots were taken to view the soccerised entertainment on what was a quite beautiful day.  In fact the sky was so clear I expected Julie Andrews to appear in the distance singing about the 'Hills being alive' whilst twirling around in utter joy.  Alas all I spied in the distance were a few arthritic geezers gabbing about the game and doing their utmost to stay upright - not the same is it?  3pm eventually came, the studded boots of the 22 combatants took to the pitch and the game began with great earnest - I expected a tough work-out for both units with many a brow drenched in perspiration and many a calf muscle pushed to the extreme - this is the outcome folks.

The opening sequences saw very little between the sides with the Nomad's No 10 (George Blackwell) almost nipping in but denied by some cool keeping via the crust although the striker did appear offside.  The first push for The Road came when No 10 (Matthew Morgan) knocked a delicious pass that gave rise to a corner.  Alas the resultant kick was too heavy! The Nomads bounced back, No 3 (Ryan Standring) played a stunning pass across the park, the ever zesty No 7 (Kieren Herbert) pounced and let fly, the end result was a whistler not that far above the bar.  Road replied, a corner saw No 5 (Luke Taylor) put in a solid defensive header but No 6 (Jamie Roe) for the hosts led the rebuild, No 9 (Daniel Burgess) was the recipient at the apex of the onslaught and a low shot that followed crept inside of the upright - 1 - 0 and perhaps justice served for the hosts busy start.

Now the game was afoot, Road came on again, a free-kick was won and taken by Morgan who let fly a stunning ball that was matched by an equally impressive bit of defending. The guests now began to perspire harder and apply some pressure, a throw went in, out and was thwacked back by Blackwell who was denied by a sweet tip over the bar by a highly alert keeper.  The ball came back once more, Taylor connected, the outcome wasn't even close.  From a period on the back foot the home lads won a throw in from which Morgan was given the ball and allowed time and space to travel and get in position for a crack on goal.  The shot came, the defenders stood still and watched, the keeper flung himself with an outstretched hand but the effort was pin-perfect and found the awaiting bottom corner - the lead was justifiably doubled.

The game continued, No 9 (Richard Tindall) had a header off target that should have at least found the target and then Roe for the Road ended a quick footed move with a dig that forced a stunning save but the offside flag was waving.  A water break seemed to knock the stride out of the hosts and the Nomads came on strong for the rest of the half.  Burgess for Blues did have a good effort which forced another quality saved with a follow-up deflection cleared off the line.  The Nomads now began to see a lot more of the ball, the problem was that with each pass the players waited to receive rather than meet the ball and make their move.  They did nearly force an own goal from a corner, Tindall had another header, this time straight at the keeper and a few half-chances were snuffed out at the last.  The home team fought the tide. Morgan lashed a free-kick, the ball flew with high impetus, the keeper watched it all the way and tipped over with quality.  A corner followed, the ball had pace and accuracy, No 4 (Jake Wright) provided a flick header, the post was struck. The half was nearly done, suddenly from some Cheadle pressure Herbert knocked a ball to the patient No 11 (Ashley Harrison).  A deft touch came and saw the globe lofted over the keeper and the 'get out of jail' card was exhibited for all to behold.  A lovely goal, the second half looked now set to be a mighty close affair but Maine Road weren't done yet.  A super quick surge in the dying seconds, a fine tackle in the box seemed to have quelled the danger but the referee seemed to be on hallucinogenics and gave a very dubious penalty.  When No 5 (Louis Edwards) stepped up and clattered home it was a real kick in the conkers for the visitors.

As the teams and officials left the pitch the man in black was getting his ear bent - he strode on with a determined brow.  Myself and Stu had tea and cake and soon took up our seats - all predictions were out the window although my good lady predicted 3 - 2 to The Road before dropping me off - it seemed a sagacious call.

Road came out brightest for the second period, the guests had the first real charge though with No 2 (Thomas Rogers) at the helm and with Blackwell finishing matters with a low strike just shy of the mark.  A corner came the same way soon after, it was very poor indeed.  From here it became apparent that the travelling pack were going to do most of the running whilst the resident team would absorb and hopefully strike like a cobra at a nudist's dangling vulnerabilities.  An attack came for the self-appointed serpents - Morgan was on the prowl and eventually let fly with a bender.  The result of which was an effort only a few inches wide.  

Time ticked on, as the guests galloped and hunted for any scraps their opponents always looked to be one touch away from a counter-attack. The Nomadic Herbert nearly increased his side's hope with a  quick turn in No-Man's-Land and a very applaudable shot that needed gloved assistance to see it over, rather than under, the bar.  At this point I had a note to make - it concerned Jamie Roe, Maine Road's Captain Fantastic who was crudely nobbled, writhed in pain, dusted himself down and got on with the game without gripe, groan or pointless bitching - a salute is given, this is how the game should be played and is a dying attribute sorely missed - thank you sir!

As the sun shone I noted that George Gibbons, the Cheadle Heath Nomads' Chairman, had gone topless in the distance and seemed to be doing his promotional bit for melted chocolate and budget price Ronseal - surely this wasn't helping his team's morale!  Despite this display of degradation the Cheadle HN machine ground forth, a ball was defended and followed up with a volley from No 8 (Jack Warren) that was closer than many realised.  More pressing ensued and then Maine Road broke with Morgan looking to finish off the game precise side-footer - the quality of the finish however was...shite.  The guests won a corner next, a flick header from Herbert brought a gasp of intrigue, once again the hit-zone was missed.  As the comeback trail was traversed by a team in the mire a pothole was encountred that led to a derailment.  No 6 (Adam Stuart) was sin-binned and then Morgan for MR was on the ball and cutting in with purpose.  Again the defense allowed him time to set his sights, the keeper was there to be beaten and beaten he was by a quite composed finish that was somehow cleared off the line by a great rear guard header.  What a fine moment!

We now entered the arse end of the game, there were many tired legs struggling in the heat, the Nomads were moaning at the situation and after a mis-header they watched on with distracted and sinking hearts as Morgan darted in, went one on one with the keeper and this time bagged another goal and put the game to bed.  Soon after time was called, a 4 - 1 home win was a quite outstanding result with the team in blue good value for their efforts and the Man of the Match award being given to their No 4 (David Brown) for a stint that was nothing less than rock steady.  It was controlled, disciplined and done in exacting terms with nothing pointlessly flamboyant to criticise.  When a defender plays like this it resonates throughout the team and gives them a belief and a reliable fall-back that breeds positivity.  And that was that, 5 goals and a good day out, the evening was spent boozing and watching three noisy bands in a room full of spiky tops at a Fungally infused gig - it were beltin'.

FINAL THOUGHT - Before the match the two teams seemed to be struggling, after the match its seems that for one, the difficulties continue, for the other, renewed hope has been found.  Cheadle Heath Nomads are in a state of indecision it seems with many problems to solve and the immediate answers all remaining elusive.  Tactically I feel as though they had it wrong today - why knock long balls to a gifted target man if no one is buzzing around to pick up the scraps he has earned?  Why is communication lacking in certain areas and so awareness lost?  Why is so much time spent watching the other team play instead of snapping at their heels?  I don't know but one thing is for sure, it needs sorting and sorting mighty soon.  The next match I feel is a real important one - the wheels need securing or they will be off and rolling this way and that and leaving a team in disarray.  Maine Road are still a team that always give value whether they win, lose or draw.  The work ethic is spot on, performances are built on this factor alone and as a result many teams get outworked and forced into certain errors.  They just need to be more clinical up front on a regular basis and perhaps get themselves a tall target man as an option but other than that, the tweaks needed here are quite minimal.  It goes without saying I will be back, it is one of my favoured footballing hotspots but for me, it's FC Oswestry next - it is all about keeping it varied.

WELL WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT

20th August 2019 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 0 v 1 Abbey Hey - As a fine punk band claimed 'I am in a rut' and with the head up the arse I am feeling a bit low at the mo.  It happens, tis an hazard of 'thinking', being busy and pissing in the wind.  The day at work was busy, it seems a persistent pile, my carcass is constantly creaking and the weather, as per, is an unreliable bugger.  Shaken but very much stirred I got myself ready for football and my good lady said she would join me too - what a bonus indeed.  We arrived in plenty of time (we only live a few streets away) and met up with STP Stu.  We chatted to many folk, enjoyed the somewhat pleasant thermals and pondered the outcome. We gathered predictions, we were all to be proven wrong although my missus was closest with a very conservative prediction.  The key though is getting out and supporting, taking your mind away from the daily niggles and enjoying what is, a simple game but one that can be utterly fascinating.  We are in the early throes of the season but already teams are making a mark, the question is would that mark be a glowing daub of proclaimed success on the palace walls of potential or a mere shit-streak of impending doom upon the karsi doors of persistent defeat - I may be a dabbling down in the dumps but I have enough of a spark to be truly absorbed.

From the off the Nomadic home tribe worked hard, won an immediate corner that was flicked over the bar from the near post via the bonse of No 10 (Daniel Browne).  The start was frantic, both teams sought to grab the first testicle of promise and perhaps get lucky with a few pips of success giving birth to a goal or two.  A gratis dig was granted to the hosts, it went in, was knocked out before No 3 (Stephen Kirby) blazed over with untamed abandon.  As payback for this audacious ripper, the visitors came on strong. A simplistic passing sequence saw No 8 (Luke Hincks) threaded through with the first goal beckoning.  The shot was struck low, the placement was a little awry - it was a chance and a chance gone begging.  

The early stages developed, there was little to call between each side but Abbey Hey began to outwork their opponents and due to an incessant pressure made space to play further up the park.  After 2 Nomadic corners the away team earned one of their own when the No 2 (Joseph Neild) did a spot of weaving in the corner.  The ball was delivered, the punch away clean enough with a return shot well held by the ever alert No 1 (Aaron Tyrer).  The Hey were now 'on it', another sweep forward and a free-kick earned.  The ball was posted into the box by No 4 (Matthew German), it had good pace and accuracy allowing Hincks to pounce and touch towards goal - the save that followed was exceptional.  A follow-up attempt came, was cleared and the resultant corner produced a firm header that was wonderfully saved although the offside flag dampened the thrill somewhat.

The game continued with appreciable vim, Kirby had a another shot over for the hosts and then Browne followed suit with an equally elevated attempt.  The Hey were good value though and constantly hustling and harrying their opponents.  Eventually a free-kick at an acute angle was won, No 3 (Dylan Norris) was the taker and eyed his spot.   The ball was swung in low, seemingly without danger, a defender was told to 'leave it', the swinging legs were avoided, the keeper was unsighted and the ball crept in beneath his crouching framework.   A sneaky goal for sure, borne perhaps from a minor error of judgement, they all count though.

The jaded minutes of the half were done with much bluster, the hosts had a few corners, one punched over, another too long to be of concern whilst Abbey Hey hunted for the second goal of the night but were over zealous and falling all too easily into the offside trap.  As the half drew to a close the rain fell, Nomads had an hopeful long range punt at an open goal that was eventually dealt with and then we were done.

A brew and a choccy bar for half-time and an all important Jimmy Riddle.  The scoreline so far was something of a shocker, to keep in with the theme of things I drew a nude picture of Queen Victoria on the toilet walls and added the slogan 'Bob Carolgees was a murderer' - needs must. 

Back in position, the second half began with a free-kick for Abbey Hey which just missed all rising bonses.  From here a very patchy period followed, in fact it was so patchy it would have put a vagabonds threadbare under-duds to shame - I mean, it was quite shocking.  Abbey Hey continued to move the ball with greater fluidity and when not in possession were tirelessly pressing their opponents and giving them no time on the ball.  A few substitutes came each way, it failed to alter the now degenerating pattern of a game that saw one team try and have little in the way of creativity and the other team work hard and be just happy to dig in and spoil.  Eventually The Nomads progressed with some razor-sharp passing and searching moves.  They were kept at bay with the end shot from No 16 (Jack Warren) a result of the mither and duly off target.  Another onslaught followed, No 7 (George Blackwell) was in space at a slight angle.  A shot was had, it had good energy, the save was bang on and kept this one a 1 goal to nil.

Into the arse end of the game, Blackwell for The Nomads put in a cross, No 14 (Richard Tindall) snuck in on the blind side, the effort was weaker than a the comedic routine of Jim Bowen with the ball trickling wide in seeming despair (yes, footballs have emotions too, you just need the right medication to realise it).  The hosts continued to work with fervour, a good lather was being built in the murk.  Browne had a glorious chance to bury in the box but shied say from a punt and unselfishly crossed the ball - it was the wrong decision and the chance was gone forever.  The game faded and with a few minor chances at both ends, No 17 (Ashley Harrison) perhaps had the best opportunity after a decent spurt of play but the end shot was tame and then it was all over.  Abbey Hey had come, confounded and conquered, Man of the Match goes to their No 5 (Joshua Dickin) who reflected the great defensive attributes of the team, the high discipline and the relentless work-rate - a very reliable shift and with a good reading of the game the lad did himself proud.  

FINAL THOUGHT - And there ya go, despite many expecting a home win and Cheadle Heath Nomads looking to keep their season rolling the right way, Abbey Hey came and did a smash and grab number and pissed off home with a 3 point prize very much deserved.  The key to their success was obvious - an undying work ethic that gave their opponents no time to settle and no time to suss out a response.  Like a fox attacked by a flapping chicken hepped up on desire and goofballs - this was a fluster-inducing onslaught that pecked away until the very last and strutted off with a cluck of success.  This attribute and this attribute alone will serve the away team well and they may not be movers and shakers in the end mix this time around but they will certainly be putting the wind up a few teams both at home and on their travels.   Cheadle Heath Nomads were disappointing tonight, they rarely threatened, were harassed out of their game and when Plan A and Plan B went awry seemed to run out of options.  Don't misread my words though, come season end they will have done mighty fine but it will take dedication, passion and a certain ability to solve many footballing puzzles placed in front of them without much delay.   They have another tough match on Saturday, against a Maine Road team who are known to run themselves ragged - I fancy a close-one but could the Nomads be on the rebound and put in a stormer - my loins are girded, my buttocks clenched - I may strain myself, I hope it is ruddy well worth it.

TIME TO GRAB THE FISH BY THE TAIL

19th August 2019 - Stockport Town 4 v 1 New Mills - The 2 sides on show tonight had competed in 7 matches so far between them and amassed a grand total of 1 point, this being grabbed by the hosts at the weekend.  So, as a result, this was an early season game of crucial proportions that could be used as a springboard, for either team, to get the season up and running.  The season is open, there is much to smash and grab but like a rather nervous kleptomaniac roaming the local high-street, if one spends to much time window-shopping rather than taking the plunge and filling one's pockets, the end result will be sheer dejection and a feeling of not making the most of a situation.  When I was a lad I indulged in such an adventure when pilfering Haddock from Mr Fillets Sexual Fish Bar.  I wasted no time I can tell ya and for several weeks after I ate like a Lord of the Ocean albeit smelling rather dubious and having Mrs Fillet knocking on my door accusing me of shitting in the scampi tray.  This situation may seem like a digression but it highlights the fact that if one commits and prepares to plunder, the gut of expectation can be filled.  Tonight I walked to the ground, it was 4.5 miles and took me a while as I was looking at wildlife on the way and got distracted looking into a window of a chippy and rekindling memories of Piscean misdemeanours.  I met STP Stu just prior to getting to the ground and upon arrival at the Woodley Sports Centre we had plenty of time to spare before kick off and were very grateful to the ever amiable Chairman Rob York for giving us a brew, a couple of biscuits and a place to park our rears.  Many fine folk arrived, were chatted with and asked for predictions, I may as well come clean now and state that not one person got the score correct, it seems I am not the only ill-informed crackpot in town.  Eventually we all chose our viewing points, we all expected goals, as it turned out we weren't disappointed.

The hosts were straight on it, No 3 (Jack McConnell) intercepted, ran the wing like a charging rhino in need of a toilet break and duly won a corner - alas the gratis kick from the angle saw no triumph had.  The guests worked hard to gain some semblance of a foothold, eventually No 7 (Joel Riley) flew the flank, crossed and forced a defensive error - the keeper did well just to recover matters.  From here the home team began to get the better of things, McConnell and No 9 (Kiarno Samms) produced a small episode of choice link-up play with the latter player side-footing a shot that strayed just off target.  As The Millers got pushed back they looked devoid of ideas, this looked set to be a very long night for the travelling pack.  No 10 (Kyle Foley) of The Town sent in a range finder that warmed the keepers hands and then, as the visitors pushed, the hosts burst out of jail via a ball from McConnell that was nothing short of a stunner.  No 7 (Jesurun Uchegbulam) let the globe bounce, weaved through a defender and the mitter and gave himself time to stroke home into the awaiting net - this first strike was thoroughly deserved by a team very much 'on it'.

Town followed up this initial strike with a pate-blistering corner, Samms was waiting at the back post and duly applied his bonse to the ball but could only find the underside of the bar - in truth it should have been a goal.  The home lads were undeterred however and maintained their rampaging ways but No 9 (Taylor Maguire) of New Mills strove to offer hope with a dig out of the blue that disappointingly soared way over the horizontal.  A Town free-kick came next, the keeper palmed away and then a period of sustained pressure followed that duly led to another gratis hoof being awarded just outside the box.  No 8 (Robert Lofthouse) took charge, swung the shank and sent in a drilling drive that the keeper did well to block.  The guardian of the goal though was unfortunate to see the loose ball gobbled up and spat back into the net by the awaiting vulture, No 5  (Thomas Greenfield).  

It 2 goals down it was good to see New Mills delve deep despite being reduced to 10 men for a short period when a conk was clattered. They held their own with their No 2 (Michael Bowler) the most noteworthy player who was getting quite frustrated by the lack of options on the pitch.  The said player made one quite exceptional run and put in a cross that No 11 (Adam Miles) walloped first time, it was close and perhaps gave a sign of a turning tide.  The half ended with in a state of equilibrium, offering hope to the trailing team and keeping the hosts honest - time for a brew and some choccy methinks.

A wander and the said victuals were partaken of. A chat with some more grand folk and some shock news via the fine gentleman that is David Potter (Cheadle Heath Nomads Coach) who had changed his pre-match prediction and gone for 28 - 1 to Stockport Town.  Now I know Mr Potter is prone to moments of capriciousness due to a high intake of acid and powdered egg but this was something else - in the purple technicolor haze of trippy football though, one just never knows,  In fact as myself and Stu rode back to our viewing spots on banana-flavoured camels that continually discharged rivers of kaleidoscopic crap we did wonder if Mr Potter was on to something good.  I am also sure I saw a girl named Lucy in the stands, with diamonds in her night black hair, and starry glints in her bloodshot eyes.

Back to the game, once again Town started brightest, a free-kick was earned. Lofthouse was the man at the helm again, he sent in a shot that had ideal height, generous swerve and enough clobber to hit the underside of the bar and drop into the net - what a fine strike, what a great way to almost put this game out of reach!  Within the quiver of a fat lasses mammary the same situation arose again, this time the ball was propelled low and hard, the keeper did mighty well to turn it around the post for a corner.  The resultant hoof in was wayward, New Mills were hanging on by the skin of their scrotum (ouch).

The Millers now responded, a cross followed a free-kick, Maguire nutted, the keeper was in the right place at the right time.  Another bonus boot was had, No 10 (Carlos Meakin) delivered, the globe was defended and returned with vicious venom, the bar was vibrated with violence, the ball was there to be buried and up popped No 4 (Ewan Roach) and we were suddenly at 3 - 1.  The Lions were now shocked, a streaking attack came, a corner and then a free-kick that Lofthouse drove.  A deflection over denied a certain goal, it was a shame the follow-on corner was rubbish.  Shots came at each end, the goals remained untroubled but this was a decent match with still plenty of life remaining.

As the half progressed things remained fairly balanced, half chances came at each end with Mills busting guts and giving a decent account of themselves after the quite shabby first half.  Several times the guests came, some last ditch defending, a wayward pass and just bad luck hindered the flow and then a short corner was played, a cross followed and Meakin rose to put a firm crust on the awaiting globe.  The ball left the barnet with pace, it was disappointing to say the least to see the top corner of the framework clattered.  

Unexpectedly The Town cultivated an attack, a shot on the turn came from nothing, the keeper did well to block, the ball went loose and No 11 (Reece Skelton) was quickest to react and bagged his teams 4th of the night - I had a feeling that was that!  In truth it should have been 5 not long after when The Millers were robbed of possession, Samms knocked forth a delicious pass, Uchegbulam collected and slapped toward goal, the man between the uprights produced a solid block.  During the last minutes, and the 4 added on, much frenetic action came, the only dig of note came via a Town player who let fly with great gumption and generated a shot that absolutely boomed the bar.  Moments later and we were done, dusted and far from rusted.  Man of the Match for me goes to Stockport Town's No 3 (Jack McConnell) who, from the off was alert, oozing talent, keen and willing to run this way, that way or wherever he was needed.   Some great passing, quick feet and zoned in concentration was admirable and all done without verbal bullshit and with a fine attitude - the future could be bright for this chap!  

FINAL THOUGHT - And so to the end analysis - and what of New Mills.  Well they are a team in trouble I feel and one who need to shake their tail and get swimming against a confounding current very, very soon.  They have several fixtures coming up which are now of 'red alert' importance and I reckon if they don't win one of the next two league fixtures they will be up the famed River Shitty in a leaking boat with only a jelly paddle to get them to safety.  Tonight though the second half spirit was a good sign, it is all about decisions and options when on the ball and making room off the ball to make the most of each and every opportunity - it is easier said than done and when I pop up to their gaff over the coming months it will be interesting to see what state they are in.   Stockport Town have finally got their season running, is it a sign of good times ahead, is it a result against poor opposition that may just be deceiving upon the peepers?  Only time will tell.   For me, the team have too many good players within the weave to not make the mid-table grade at least but, if those players don't play as a unit and bury their chances when they come then things can soon get rather tricky and pressurised.  Judging by tonight's efforts though they should be leaping like salmon up the league ladder and making a splash here and there for many teams.  The corner may have just been turned, in the meantime I am off to Frisky Freda's Friary - I could thrash a cod.

LABOUR PARTY

17th August 2019 - Windle Labour FC 6 v 1 Denton Town - The grey, heavenly underpants are seemingly full of holes and the wearer has a problem with their hydraulic valve - hence the constant leakage that is falling on our bonses and making for one testing summer season.  Due to a severe overspill yesterday the footballing plans were up in the air as I was sure there would be postponements.  As I pondered where to go the skies turned black and another deluge came even though the forecasters said it was going to be a decent day.  From the darkness I was inspired to compose a letter to one Michael Fish, the missive took the form of a death threat, I think I am fully justified.  Just to be sure I made duplicates and sent them to John Kettley; Ian McCaskill and Carol Kirkwood.  A nude photo of Bill Giles was sent to all to show I meant business - keep watching the skies folks, we may be in for some sunny times, if not, Fishy gets it first, my conker propelling catapult holds no favours.  Eventually after a morn of more gardening duties for the mother in law (in glorious sun may I add), a swift sort out and a change, we made our way to the heady climes of Skelmersdale to watch a Cheshire League 1 affair.  STP Stu joined us, and after acquiring a brew we stood on the touchline with 13 other folk and watched the action unfold.

The away team had most of the early action, played at their own pace and looked to unlock a firm opposing defence.  A mistake from Windle's No 4 (Matthew Watkins) nearly resulted in the first goal but the hoof forward was very rushed indeed.  Denton came on again, No 7 (Matty Booth) sprung the offside trap, let the ball bounce once and duly boomed, the keeper watched the flight of the globe and made a concrete block.  The hosts seemed flustered and aggravated but they eventually gained a foothold and worked mighty hard to generate a first real chance at goal.  Despite Denton holding all the early cards they refused to play any real aces and farted around at the rear with the keeper guilty of indecision and fortunate to see a return shot not find the netting. The guests forced the issue, Booth away and crossing, No 10 (Liam Turner) nearly applied the killer execution, the emphasis unfortunately was on the 'nearly'.  

From the latest assault on goal Windle Labour countered, 19 (Danny Bate) worked the wing, cut in and hit a low cross that No 7 (Ryan Cook) got on the end of and touched home all too simply.  Seconds later a long ball from the back saw No 9 (Liam Bowden) collect, touch, turn and stroke home to double his side's lead, it was a nicely taken strike and really stunned the visitors to the soles of their feet.  The Town were looking in disarray, positional play was lacking, zonal marking absent and no sooner had I finished scribbling my thoughts than a third goal was conceded but luckily for Denton, was ruled offside.  The hosts were now on top, Bate was unlucky not to nip in and grab another, just that one step delay and the chance was gone.  Denton were playing too high, Labour's Cook tried to chip the keeper and was just off target and then the same player snuck in, the ball was hoofed away, Bate sent in a nob-numbing belter that the mitter just saved.  A collision followed, a leg was swung and after a bit of pushing and shoving the man between the sticks was requested to leave the pitch - I am still unsure why.

A shower now fell with spite, No 4 (James Grimes) of Denton took over the last man duties and was called into action when a low screamer needed neatly pushing around the post.  Soon after Bate was moving with menace, a sweet ball to No 10 (Dale Whitehead) saw a turn and a twat and a 3 - 0 scoreline set in stone - this game had all the signs of becoming a procession.  The home lads were keen to get a bagful, a free-kick saw a header boom off the bar, a follow-up shot ensued and was saved.  Due to the chilly rain I found myself desperately wanting an Arthur Bliss, I am a man of 53, the prostate gland is not what it was - I dashed for the comfort of the karsi as the half-time whistle blew - in utter darkness the plumbing was flushed through, I could have broke into song with relief.

A cuppa for half-time and a ham sandwich, back out and with the front of my pants urine-free, a now whipping wind revitalising the senses the game restarted with much ardour.

No sooner had the second half began than The Town were once again spending too much time on the ball at the back allowing Cook to gain possession, shoot and see the ball crawl over the line - game, set and match, but will the lesson ever be learned by the visiting rearguard.  Denton somehow bagged a corner next, the ball was knocked long over all rising bonses, No 5 (Cole McGrath) was waiting at the back post to bury - surely this wasn't the beginning of the comeback of all comebacks.  From here though, after a rather balanced period, Windle worked hard, Denton played the ball back to the keeper way too many times but the guests eventually broke and won a free-kick that No 9 (Nathan Lewis) placed on target with the home mitter doing well to push behind.  The following corner was shite.

I will give Denton due credit here as they began to boss the game and try and find a way back in.  Windle were indeed playing into the dull wind, it was no easy task but when a long ball was mopped up and returned with added interest and a quick cross came, the touch home by Bate put this one out of sight for the travelling team and certainly killed the game as a contest.  The bolt of Denton now seemed shot, the hosts passed the ball and won a throw-in from a quite innocuous position.  The ball was tossed, all heads and legs missed it, Cook was their to collect and rifled one towards goal - pick that out - 6 - 1, where's the champagne, the hat-trick hero has a thirst.  The latter stages saw Booth and No 12 (Ryan Millington) have pops for the trailing pack, both with little success.  No 6 (Liam McDowell) bust a bollock to beat 2 players next and was crudely grounded.  He was fully justified in venting his spleen and asking the referee, in raised tones, whether he was mad.  The follow-on verbals saw the player sent to the bin of sin and as the game closed in somewhat messy fashion Denton could consider things, all in all, a shit day at the office.  Man of the Match for me goes to Windle Labour's No 4 (Matthew Watkins) who, after the opening slip, recovered well, was loquacious throughout, always read matters for himself and his teammates and was a real stubborn rock in defense that, like a Herring Gull with a bag of chips, gave sweet FA away.  It goes without saying that as we 3 onlookers pootled off home none of us had predicted the score-line - the unpredictability is what makes this non-league lark so ruddy fascinating.

FINAL THOUGHT - In sun, rain and wind we came and we witnessed and went home wondering.  After considering the culmination of events it seems to me that Denton Town need to get their act together and do it darn quickly.  How many times did we see the ball played back to the keeper today?  Too darn many if you ask me but what is the cause?  A lack of options, a lack of confidence, a lack of movement - it is the first area to sort and that is for sure.  Secondly the lack of width seems a concern, why are they not playing the flanks and stretching teams.  Thirdly, when up shit creek why not go for it?  I remain baffled but hey, all I have is a viewpoint, and so do many others - I am just being transparent and hopefully helpful.  There is enough skill within the weave, a lot of work needs doing to get each component working as part of one well-oiled machine.  Windle Labour looked good today, they seemed sharp, used all areas of the pitch and had many players hollering for a piece of the action.  They do 'switch off' at times, just ask the Man of the Match who bellowed at his comrades to keep on it.  They seem to have a good morale though, let us hope in stickier moments on tougher days they stay focused and stay supportive of one another - if so, they will do just fine.  It was a nice trip out this, the Cheshire League offers great entertainment that is primarily free -  big up to all who make this happen.