FOR CUPS SAKE

29th October 2019 - Congleton Town 1 v 2 Cheadle Heath Nomads - A trip out to one of our favourite footy grounds to see the black and white Bears take on the roaming Nomads in a Cheshire Cup tie that, in my addled mind at least, could go either way.  The fact is though, the football and the result were put on hold as it was the chips and tea that mattered most.  We arrived, purchased and partook and boy did they taste mighty fine.  The rich golden yellow of the sizzled spud, the soft fluffy insides, the essence of salt and vinegar on the cold night air, the dramatic tantalising splash of ketchup all intoxicating the senses and only tempered by the warm blessing of tea-bag based reality.  I was taken to a world of flying friers, condiment creators with hands of benevolence and tomato coloured dwarves dancing beneath generous clouds that leaked tangy sanguine juices laden with heavenly kindness.  Graceful Larks took to the air and sang songs of fast food worship, flowers bloomed in pastures of deep fried grasses, and then the medication wore off and we were back to the footy and a scrummy pie I had purchased too.  After chatting with many fine folk, 7.45pm arrived and the teams came out.  An upset was possible but if the visiting tribe got off on the wrong foot a trouncing was equally foreseeable, I was on the edge of my seat and it had nothing to do with wearing tight trousers.

The opening patternation of the contest saw The Bears nuzzle deep into the perilous nether regions of the Nomad's rear, a free-kick was had but went straight into the meat of the keeper's carcass.  In the twitch of a nerved up nutters eye the hosts advanced once more, No 9 (Daniel Cope) was threaded through, the keeper was off his line, the shot however went wide of the mark - chance gone!  Congo continued to dictate, a corner was resoundingly nutted away by the visiting No 3 (Craig Coates) which led to the Nomad's gaining something akin to a foothold.  The game became an open affair but real glaring chances remained a rare commodity.  A lightning break for the guests was eventually ground out, a cross that came was laden with pace, Coates came on the scene to bury but arrived just a fraction too late and could only find the side netting.  A Nomadic free-kick next, it led to an angled hoof which in turn led to a scuffed shot by the hustling No 9 (Ashley Harrison) - the ball was eventually cleared.

From here the travelling pack grew in sanguinity, a long ball found No 10 (Ashley Stott) who shot on the turn and won a corner, no danger was had from the ball in but this was mighty promising from a team apparently playing the role of the underdog.  Following a rather crap free-kick from the Nomads the home lads tried to push on but were caught offside too many times for the crowds liking, one could feel a touch of disgruntlement in the air.  Cope led the next ursine onslaught with a sharp cut inwards and a shot that was firmly blocked,   A follow-up dig was deflected over, the corner led to a period of pressure but the opposing ranks remained disciplined and saw the danger pass.  Towards the latter end of the half things became hectic and if anything, the guests were having the better of things.

During the break we stayed put and resisted the cold, we were armed with a Toblerone, a veritable triangular tube of goodness ideal for these chilly footballing nights.  It was with great delight that we chatted with the Nomad's club Secretary Nev Pearson and discovered that he had recently given up his work 'darn sarf' and was now back up this end and doing his worthy stuff for his local club. What Mr Pearson failed to tell us, which I later found out, was that he had recently been charged with streaking at Fortnum and Masons whilst sporting a tube of Cherrilossus Biscuits up his rather rubicund chuff.  Due to this naked escapade he had lost his job and been told never to return to the 'Big Smoke' again - tis amazing how the truth can be so clarifying.  And back to the game!

A brisk start came, the guests were getting pegged back but they stayed composed and produced some lovely breakaway football that was both patient and precise.  At the tail end of one cutting move Stott sent in a rather sweet shot that was tidily tipped over by a keeper very much on his toes.  The corner was easily dealt with, The Bears bounded forth and a free-kick was granted.   One pass, two pass and three, Cope pounced, thank you very much, 1 - 0 it was and perhaps against the grain of play.

The game now moved up a few gears, the hosts came again, No 5 (Thomas Morris) was clattered, No 11 (Samuel Hadfield-Summerbee) was on the loose ball and pulled the trigger.  The shot was dramatically blocked on the line, confusion reigned, the ball was bumbled over the line, an infringement killed dead any celebration.  The Cheadle pack were being put on the back foot, a substitute was made, the tide slowly began to change.  A free-kick was blocked, Congleton broke, the defending No 5 (Thomas Rogers) produced an outstanding tackle and kept his team very much alive and kicking.

From here things remained on the cusp, a chip shot by the Town's No 12 (Jonathon Higham) was abysmal, his next effort was better but could only find the awaiting arms of the mitter.  After another effort at the goal The Cheadle Heath team rebounded with No 11 (Daniel Browne) progressing with purpose before releasing No 14 (George Blackwell).  The sub was pushed out wide, kept his cool and fired into the back of the net in composed style - the equaliser was fully deserved, the substitution a moment of inspiration.

With the carrot of round two now dangling before the eyes of both hungry teams we moved into the closing stages - the question being - who would be the chomping donkeys and who would be the rogered rabbits?  The guests seemed born-again, they moved with greater purpose and gusto, the soccerised spirit was burning bright, was this the time of true resurrection.  The yellow-clad army pushed hard, the ball was passed around with swift, decisive belief, suddenly it was played out wide, Stott was on it, his striking instinct took command, boom - 1 - 2 it was, the comeback trail was complete, now it was just a question of seeing out the last 10 minutes.

Down the home stretch we went, Nomads remained on top and quelled the opposition's hopes, Harrison could have finished the game but his header was off target and then a shot came forth and needed on-line attention.  A scuffle came before the closure, it was all rather unnecessary and as a result  Browne for the guests was shown red and went for an early bath.  The game ended soon after, the upset had been witnessed, it was a ruddy good effort, Congleton looked rather deflated, it had been a tough night for sure.  Man of the Match goes to the Cheadle Heath Nomad's No 14 (George Blackwell) for giving his team that extra spark, the extra option and of course for the goal that started the wheels turning the right way.  It was a good stint, now all the lad has to do his prove his worth over 90 minutes on a consistent basis - challenge set sir!

FINAL THOUGHT - Congleton Town is one of my favourite grounds, the team usually play good honest football, the banter in the crowd is comical and without spite and the whole set up makes for a good jaunt out.   Today, despite being a regular supporter of the Nomads, I felt a bit disappointed with the Bears who just lacked the apical decisiveness and seemed to play too many hopeful balls over the top rather than play the ball around the park and pick their moment to pounce.  They have way too many good players to remain out of form, all that is needed is a bit of cohesion and fluidity and all areas working as one.  Despite the loss tonight I reckon that a team is going to be on the wrong end of a Congo spanking very soon, watch this space.  The Nomads on the other end did what they set out to do and remained tight, organised and stuck to their guns.  The first 10 minutes saw them ride a storm, once through it they set up their sails, fought against the wind and gradually built up some eye-catching impetus.  The season started slowly, now things are moving the right way, it is no time to get carried away though and feel content, there is still much to do but it must be said the future is looking rosy, the future is looking Nomadically exciting!  PS - it is important to mention that after the match I received news that all charges against the aforementioned Mr Pearson will be dropped provided he return the said biscuits and pens an apology to Mr Farquar Fontaine the in-house confectioner - now that is good news - and onwards!

THE CHANCE TO SURGE

28th October 2019 - Maine Road 1 v 2 Sandbach Utd - My duty of leading fungi walks this year is over with 19 walks done, a few hundred people enthused and 2249 records submitted of 560 species.  I have had soakings aplenty, have scratched, sniffed, tasted and dabbled with many shrooms and have come out the other end shattered out.  Now I am back on the Non-League Trail, the chance to freeze one's tits off whilst watching a group of dudes kick a sphere around is perhaps not everyone's cup of chilling cha' but I wouldn't have it any other way.  Today was a game destined to be a real close affair with two units looking to give a little extra push and surge onward into the heady heights of the NWCFL first division south.  Pre-season saw me tip both sides to be in the mix at the tail end, so far they were looking on course for destination 'success' but, one slip could lead to a serious blip and the wheels could go flying off with many nearby competitors quick to take advantage.  I had had a long day dealing with many tasks, I arrived at the ground and caught up with a  few familiar faces whilst partaking of a brew.  Soon after my arse was perched on a rather cool bench, the players came out and with chilly fingers I scribbled out the following observations.

Steam rose, breath billowed in misted plumes, legs galloped over dampened turf liable to tear open with every forceful tackle.  The team to take initial ascendency was the The Road although the first onslaught of any note came via the claret clad guests who came on strong with a rapier-like move that saw No 10 (Robbie Hatton) finalise with a shot on target that needed some quality gloved attention.  Road were undaunted by this early scare and played with their usual high impetus cultivating a pot shot that couldn't find the target and then pressing with much potential but failing to fulfill the ambition.  Eventually though a ball out wide saw No 11 (Jamie Hill) open up the shanks and sprint like a cheetah on whizz.  The line was hugged, the globe just kept in and duly fired into the zone of jeopardy.  A mis-control saw the ball fall loose and end up on the toes of No 9 (Jack Coop) who took one touch and duly rifled home - it was a goal of old-school content, straight from the 70's into the modern day and with no fannying about on the wing.

The game now grew in stature, No 7 (Daniel Burgess) for the hosts was having a bright start and went on one particular run that ended in a dig.  The effort however was telegraphed, deflected behind and led to a corner that produced a Sandbach break.  Thankfully for the hosts No 10 (Jamie Roe) was alert and eager and cleared up any disconcerting danger.  After a shot off target for the said Roe the impetus seemed to leak out of the game and left us with a somewhat deflated affair. No 8 (Ben Mooney) for the hosts did have a chance to rekindle interest after wriggling through an in-box melee but the shot was sweetly saved by the wide awake stickman.  Slowly the flow increased, Sandbach started to consider a comeback when a pass found Hatton in what seemed a quite innocuous position.  The options were lacking, a punt at goal was had with the ball dipping quicker than the share value of Boris Johnson's Underpants of Trust (I know, I know).  The ball looked to be going over but dropped with interest, the equaliser had been grabbed, it was a real eye-catching strike.  

During the closing minutes of the half the MR lads advanced, Burgess delivered a choice cross, Coop gathered but was denied by some outstanding tackling via the travelling No 2 (Declan O' Riordan).  At the other end a mush of figures in the box saw confusion arise and from somewhere in the mix a Sandbach player lashed one against the horizontal leaving it trembling like a fatman's nob in a Custard Cream factory.  The guests continued to finish the half with commanding zeal, their No 11 (Tom Williams) could have snatched the lead before the break but was denied by the home No 1's (Conrad Betton) sprawling shanks - it was then time for a brew.

Half-time was spent chatting to that gent David Potter of Cheadle Heath Nomads fame and sipping tea with my mate STP Stu.  John D and Gareth and his good lady Sandra were in attendance and all pre-match predictions were very much still on.  Alas none of us won the raffle as the club director's next door neighbour picked up the bottle of wine for the 14th time this year, and there had only been 10 home matches - now work that out!

The second half began with both teams snuffing out one another's wicks of promise and dousing any flames of driving ambition.  Sandbach came close when a fiery cross just needed a firm contact to guide homeward but Hatton was a fraction too late and a fraction too small to add that killer touch.

A settled period followed until Hatton for Sandbach darted into the box, was crudely tumbled and dusted himself down to convert a rather simple penalty.  The turn-around was complete and despite all of Maine Road's huff and puff the visitors remained organised and had stuck to their task.  Maine Road worked with animated industry, a grass-trimming cross had high pace as it went across the face of goal, all that was needed was the simplest touch to regain parity, alas it was nowhere to be seen.  Sandbach continued to more than hold their own but it was the resident pack who came close again when Roe played a delectable pass that saw the offside flag waved, be put down, a shot saved at the last and then a free-kick given out wide.  I am still not sure went on during this terse spell of madness but it seemed to knock the stuffing out of the game and before we knew it the last 15 minutes where upon us.

From here on in the guests remained comfortable, a couple of shots came but were of little significance and what came in return lacked any real penetration quality.  During the final throes one team looked out of ideas and general gas, the other were happy to dumb matters down and get to the final whistle - and that, in truth, was that!  Man of the Match goes to the visiting No 2 (Declan O 'Riordan) who put in many a fine tackle, played the game hard but fair and was one of the main reasons the hosts couldn't really build on their early lead.  It was a stout defensive stint done in a quiet and authoritative way - I am always appreciative of this kind of play.

FINAL THOUGHT - Personally I thought this was a middling game that lacked any real 'oomph' and displayed two teams who had the chance to push on and start to build a campaign of any real note.  What was more than noticeable was the lack of clear cut chances and any real choice of options when the teams galloped into the final third - something both packs need to sort out if they are going to push upward into the higher echelons of this competitive league.  Maine Road always give their all, play with great pride but tonight seemed a trifle out of sync and lacked any real game plan.  Of course they always make their opponents earn their crust but just a little more organisation in the ranks and a sharper apex when attacking and things could really move up to the next level.  Sandbach, on this performance, are hard to judge.  They are disciplined and go about their business in a quiet but effective way and tonight they got the job done.  Again, it is in the final third where they seem to just be lacking.  I will catch up with both teams again soon enough and still believe they can make the end of season shake-up if they just tweak in the right areas - it is easier said than done!

FROM FUNGI BACK TO FOOTBALL

22nd October 2019 - Chadderton FC 1 v 1 Shelley FC - From the damp and dark woodlands I have re-emerged.  From the shaded nooks and crannies of Mother Nature's Dingly Dells I have come, with my Crampballs taut, my Stinkhorn still emanating and the dose of Trembling Rot still held in check.  I have dabbled with Dead Man's Fingers, I have told tales about the Slag of the Woods, I have even been been heard to relate details about Arse Hair Fungi, Witches Butter and that sinister tribe of rotters known as the Black Bulgars.  Now I am back on the touchline with only a couple more fungal wanderings to lead before the season is up - the question is, will I be charged with crimes of verbal indecency or will Betty Turpin sue me for misusing her name (you have to attend a walk to fully understand).

So on this darkened October night I chose a match, my good lady was my escort, we set out hopeful and, as it turns out, with my pre-match predicting hat-trick up for grabs.  I had called the last two correct results of the matches I attended, had had my time sat on the gloating throne and now I was willing to put my reputation on the line.  My crystal ball was cloudy, the tea leaves weren't settling, the dogs intestines were giving no real reading, I was relying on skill and skill alone, the prediction was of a 2 - 1 victory for the hosts.  After chits and chats and a chuff warming cuppa we (along with STP Stu) made our way to our usual viewpoint.  For extra company we had Charlie Chill and his wafts of inclemency, it was getting to be that time of year.

The start of the match was peppy with both teams adopting a pass and play buoyancy and maintaining a decent fluidity.  The first crack at goal came from Chaddy's No 10 (Daniel McLaughlin) who lashed one off target after receiving a quite delicious ball from the No 2 (Steven Affleck).  Shelley responded with many counterpunching balls that tested the home rearguard and made them earn their early crust.  Chadderton held their own but after a terse spell of pushing they nearly came unstuck by a ball over the top that was just too late for the striker who was deemed to have strayed into an offside position.  Shelley continued to play their direct style of football that was very easy on the eye. 

From some real hustle Chadderton won 2 corners on the bounce.  The first was well delivered and needed a strong header behind, the second was met by the head of the incoming No 5 (James Dwyer) who was annoyed to see the ball boom wide.  The hosts continued to press and squeeze like a perverse doctor on a prolapsed rectum, it was just the final penetration that was lacking (cripes).  Saying that, a kick from the angle did go mightily close and put the wind up the visitors who immediately reacted with some in-box ping-pong that could have easily led to the first goal of the night.  Eventually a corner was won by the travelling pack, the delivery had pace and was aimed at the near post.  The No 9 (Craig Billington) was quick to react and put crust on ball and grab the opening goal.  It looked so simple, Chadderton looked rather miffed.  

From the re-start Shelley looked to quickly double their lead but Billington's touch in the box was poor although a corner was still earned.  In the ball came, the home lads gathered and broke.  No 7 (Arron Scholes) played a ball of quality saturated dimensions over the top, No 4 (Jordan Butterworth) remained composed, chose to loft one over the keeper and did so with excelled class. 1 - 1 - what a pure peach of a goal (with added cream of course).  This was the last serious action of the half and it was time to put liquid in one end and expel some out of the other.

After the lower plumbing was cleared a drink was sipped whilst having a chat with Cheadle Heath Nomads Manager, Andy Gray.  Despite managing a team this guy is always out and about - for me the reason for this may be down to two things.  One - he likes football and wants to keep tabs on the opposition, two - his good lady is sick of him sat at home dressed as Thora Hird and insists on getting him out of the house to avoid this mockery of a long lost sex-symbol?  I am investigating which is true - watch this space, all will be revealed!

Once re-perched the two tribes came out with immediate shots coming at both ends of the park.  No 10 (Josi Bradshaw) for the guests worked hard to wriggle free and jab one into the keepers awaiting arms and then Scholes sent forth a daisy cutter that flew wide of the far upright.  The half settled, No 9 (Reece Lyndon) sent in a cheeky floater soon after that nearly caught the keeper with his kecks down, alas the ball stayed airborne for a little too long and went over the bar rather than beneath it - unlucky!  

For a lengthy period there was little to report with both teams negating one another's efforts and making this a real gloopy period with very few escape routes available.  No 14 (Liam Chambers) added a bit of extra spice and skill for the home ranks but even he couldn't find much space and a glimpse of soccerised salvation.  A free-kick for the hosts was taken by their No 5 (James Dwyer) who had previously volleyed wide.  The shot was firm and full of vigor, all that was lacking was direction - we stayed all square.

Shelley soaked, stuttered and sprang, it was a rare chance but at the apex their No 17 (Matthew Waller) was a little over-zealous and sent his effort tearing into the great sable sky.  The next notable action came via the hosts with Chambers displaying quality kissed tootsies, back-heeling to a colleague who darted and delivered.  No 15 (Oumar Camara) had space on the edge of the box, boomed like a bastard with a problem and clattered the underside of the horizontal.  The ball was loose, the guests managed to clear their lines, now that was my 2 -1 prediction flushed down the U-bend for sure.  

The closing stages remained competitive with a few frustrations overspilling and Shelley's No 6 (Carlton Pownall) being sent to the sin-bin.  A free-kick for Shelley went straight at the keeper and at the last, Lyndon for the home team had a half-chance but dragged his effort across the countenance of the strike zone.  We ended with a fair and just parity, no team deserved to lose this one, it had been a well-balanced and hard fought game.  For me, Man of the Match goes to Chadderton's No 9 (Reece Lyndon), a reliable force who goes about his business with quiet authority, noticeable efficiency and who stood strong tonight when it mattered most.  He was part of a team who deserve applause for their heads down, no moaning approach - I think that is the way forward for many a unit.

FINAL THOUGHT - The greatest aspect of tonight's game was the fact that, in the main, both teams got on with matters, avoiding that draining moaning and groaning and went about their business with a desire to play decent, direct football - I think both units and their management team should be thanked for that and the fact that both squads are doing reasonably well is a testament to this approach.  In truth, there was very little in this one and right up until the final whistle it was a tough one to call.  My 2 -1 prediction was close but close is not good enough and I will be polishing my crystal ball and squinting into it with a little more earnestness next time.  It was good to be back at Chaddy tonight, tis always a good place to watch footy although the seating area does play havoc with my aging buttocks.  We need to get another visit to Shelley in at some point, if I remember rightly the approach to the ground had fungalising potential - what more can a man ask for, fungi and footy - ooh aye!

CRAPPERY, CRACKERJACKS AND A CRIMINAL ESCAPE

9th October 2019 - Cheadle Town 2 v 2 Eccleshall FC -The day was spent leading a group of home-schooled kids and a few parents around a nature reserve in Warrington.  65 species of fungi were eventually nailed, we also saw some Smooth Newts, Frogs, 2 species of butterfly and 6 False Ladybirds.  A feisty Devil's Coach Horse took no nonsense and a Wood Mouse dashed for safety as we disturbed it beneath a log.  After the walk we indulged in tea and cake in a walled garden, it had been an all round positive day - to end it in fine style all I needed was a good footballing spectacle (oh how foolish can one be).  After a good pasta tea my good lady dropped me off at the ground as I was a bit offside and lacking in pep.  After a chinwag with the ever-friendly guy on the gate, I had a brew with Stu of STP, a chat with the dad of the keeper of Eccleshall who the last time I nattered with was at that fine haunt of Burscough FC.  For the first half myself and Stu opted to stand out at the side of the ground where Nettles abound and few folk are found.  My throat began to burn and I felt a trifle dizzy, oh bugger I knew that nibbling those fungi would catch up with me.

The teams came out as a little nip appeared in the air, the opening episode was a test of my patience as both teams stuttered like clockwork robots with shit in their cogs. I began to scribble, ooh me noggin.  Respite was given though via a wide awake home team who sprung from the traps, knocked a ball in from out wide that saw the guests ball watch and the resident No 11 (Benjamin Brooks) rise and easily nut home.  It was an encouraging start but from here neither team could gain a stranglehold on proceedings with Ecky playing long balls that just lacked accuracy and Cheadle working up a head of steam but failing to capitalise on their momentum.  

I found myself with very little to report until the guests had a free-kick that went into the perilous zone with No 10 (Shay Finney) looking to slam home.  The touch however was weak, I nearly produced my eraser for the first time this year (note I refrained from using the term 'rubber' - oh you vulgar swines).  Cheadle Town had a gratis boot next, No 7 (Justin Pickering) took command and sent in a curler that wasn't that far off the strike zone.  The Town pushed again, the Eck looked ruffled as the ball went in and out for a corner.  The cross was decent enough, Brooks rose but couldn't keep his effort below the bar.  Myself and Stu had seen enough and decided to wander for a cuppa, as we strolled round the pitch excitement remained minimal although I did note that one guy had left his flies half-undone and his dog had a hard-on - surely it wasn't caused by what was happening on the pitch!

The brew was swilled with gusto and we had a natter to more folk before Abbey Hey Pete joined us up in the stand with the fine couple we know from here, there and almost... everywhere.

The second half began with Cheadle pressing and a free-kick getting nutted downward and hoofed behind by a defender.  The corner went in and out, No 6 (Oliver Hatfield-Banton) tried to shake things all about but the attempt on goal had way too much elevation.  From another barren period the travelling pack had position in No Man's Land.  No 6 (Jake Langdridge) looked indecisive so gave the ball a boom towards goal where he had spied the keeper off his line.  The ball rose, the keeper back-pedalled, the ball dipped, the keeper looked a trifle perturbed.  As a hand reached up it was all too late and when the net bulged outward we had all witnessed a 40 yard peach that was the pinnacle of the game so far.  Brilliant!

Now the game had a little more potency and the first team to step up the quality in this midweek stodge would certainly find themselves with 3 more points in the bag.  Cheadle made a substitution, the player (Patrick Davin) was immediately in the thick of matters, a cross was found, No 10 (Paul Sunderland) left the turf and put his forehead on the globe, bang - 2 - 1 - surely this was the time for the home team to move on and kill the game dead.  Alas, this wasn't to be the case with a golden opportunity falling to the visiting No 7 (Luke Lewis) who only had the keeper to beat.  The shot was made, the mittman produced a solid save, the ball went loose, boom - over the bar it flew.

Now the game was better, the teams were playing with a little more expression, space was starting to develop.  A free kick for Eccleshall was dealt with, a return long ball was exquisite, the defending that saved the day was absolutely stupendous.  The game now entered the arse-end of the night, Eccleshall were striving to snatch a point but when they went down to 10 men after a sin-bin moment the last few minutes looked to be considerably uphill.  The team from Staffordshire were not giving in, a penalty claim was waved away and then they survived a scare as Town's Brookes put a header straight at the keeper.  Time was now the rarest commodity, Eccleshall pressed with nothing less than passion, turmoil was had in and around the opponents box, a penalty shout went up, the referee paused and then, quite controversially, pointed to the spot.  No 11 (Louis Downs) took charge, slapped the ball with firm belief, 2 - 2 it was, now where did that come from?  Before the final whistle blew The Town had one last charge to save face, Pickering was away, shot and forced the keeper to punch.  A corner was conceded, played in but the chance to grab a winner remained elusive - the points were shared and perhaps that was a true reflection of the game itself.  Man of the Match is difficult to say the least but the Eccleshall No 6 (Jake Langdridge) battled hard throughout and grabbed a goal that will live long in the memory - I suppose the nod is deserved for that moment alone and ends this report on something of a positive note.

FINAL THOUGHT - Judgement for both sides, on this performance at least, is best left to those who were wearing rose-tinted bins rather than the shit-stained specs of reality - believe me, this was not a thriller.  On the plus side, no team lost, we did get a wonder goal and a certain tenacity was displayed throughout.  Whether or not a clash of styles contributed to a duff do is up for debate or are both teams hitting a period were the wheels are wobbling and the pre-Christmas run up is looking harder than first deemed?  The hosts, to be fair, have never got truly running this time around, I am sure though that they can shift a few gears and make their league position a bit more pleasing on the eye.  Eccleshall are doing alright for themselves and I would love to see them progress further but this is one tough league and they are going to have to dig ruddy deep to maintain their lofted position.  I always love a trip down their end, a warm and welcoming place it is and me and the good lady will be there later in the season hoping that they are flying high and holding their own - hang in there folks, the road is, as ever, long, hard and always uphill.

SILVER STREET BLUES FOR AVRO

8th October 2019 - Irlam FC 1 v 1 Avro (Irlam won 7 - 6 on penalties) - In the midst of the silly season we are, with work, fungi walks and general chasing one's tail the order of the day.  In fact last week I was chasing my tail so hard I pulled a muscle in my neck and was accused of indecency - it is all part and parcel of a doofing life.  I had booked the day off work to forge on and reduce the eternal pile, I chipped away and made some progress although I was a weary early morn after last night's gig had jaded me a little.  The 5 acts did their bit, I swilled some ale and went home happy but not resting on my disjointed laurels - one has to try.  So after a non-stop day my good lady returned home, we had a bite to eat and headed out.  We like visiting the ground at Silver Street, the people who run the club are always welcoming and you always get value for money both on and off the pitch.  After chatting with a few faces we had a brew and picked our spots, the nights are now getting a trifle chilly, we were hoping the football fever would rage and keep us warmed and intrigued.

The early throes of this Manchester Premier League 1st round had decent pep with both teams seeking to get a foot on the ball.  Irlam were having the greater possession and as a result had the first pop via a choice long ball that fell to the feet of No 11 (Jordan Southworth) who wasted no time in shooting from range.  The ball was propelled with decent pace, the visiting mittman flew and got a firm hand on the ball that led to a corner.  The ball from the angle found the nut of No 9 (Liam Pollitt), the contact was resolute and only had to be on target to break the deadlock, alas the end result was a boom over the bar.  Avro were working hard to feed on any scraps, Irlam though were being of a niggardly nature and were giving little away.

Eventually the guests ground out a half chance when No 6 (Kyle Jacobs) forced himself through a crowd, laid one on a plate for No 7 (Leon Wright) to have a lash at - it was a shame the shot lacked 'oomph' and in truth, sanguinity.  Irlam still played on the deck when a surprise ball over the top beat the offside trap .  A shot followed, the save was laden with quality, another angled boot was given.  The ball was delivered, Avro survived in a certain untidy style, a re-feed saw Southworth attempt to nip in, the gloved one was alert once more and saved his sides rather tanned asses.

The travelling tribe now began to grow in stature and see a little more of the rotating globe.  They pressed with renewed belief but were suddenly caught on the back foot and Irlam's No 7 (Marcus Perry) quickly made himself some space and had only the keeper to beat.  The shot was placed, the No 1 (Joseph Boyling) earned his crust once more with another reliable save.  Moments later and a home free-kick saw No 3 (Sam Bolton) released at a slight angle.  The effort on goal was low and on target, once more the man between the sticks remained solid and kept the scoresheet barren.  Irlam advanced once more, Perry to Pollitt with the goalie reading the danger and sprawling at the striker's feet to snuff out the peril.  The half flashed by, before the break Avro somehow won a controversial corner and when it was kicked into the box, the hairless head of No 4 (Lee O' Brien) made sound contact and nearly buried - now that would have been a real turn up for the fluttering books.

Half-time, we wandered so I could dangle a part of my plumbing system at the porcelain urinal and expel some liquid gold.  On the way I spied some verdigris fungi in the grass, Stropharia caerulea - bonus.  

Back to our viewpoint, Pollitt for the hosts had a dig way off target, Avro exposed further resilience and my tip for a 1 -1 draw looked rather extravagant the way things were playing out.  Some argy bargy came, you know the script - foul language, a bit of pushing and some chests expanded - the outcome, a waste of time and a yellow card.  When play continued it staggered like a drunken wanker with severe testicle pain and one leg longer than the other - it wasn't a pretty sight.  Irlam emerged from the mess with Southworth cutting in, feeding Pollitt who shot and saw the mitter save yet again.  Bolton jumped on the loose ball, cracked one first time and watched it flash wide of the far stick.  Perry had the next shot from some Avro pressure.  At the apex of the counterattack one expected the net to bulge, in fact the only bulge that was seen was beneath the shirt of a nearby fatman who looked to have had more than his fair share of lard butties.

Both teams continued to perspire hard, chances however became a genuinely scarce commodity.  We entered the last 10 of this slipshod and rather patchwork second half.  No 17 (Mwiya Malumo) had a dash for the Silver Street residents, the net protector was in the way and the follow up shot was saved - by heck, surely this was not the first naked draw of the year.  A corner ensued, No 6 (Karl Cassell) nipped in and rose, the forehead met the globe, kaboom, the breakthrough goal was had, was this the killer blow or, as I suggested to my good lady, after all the struggle and strife where Avro going to immediately strike back.  Salt was rubbed into the open wound of the guests when their No 5 (Michael Shenton) was sent packing after a clumsy tackle that was merely mistimed and not spiteful - I think the red card was a trifle harsh.  Now down to ten men, a goal behind and with the clock very much against them the guests had to produce something rather special.  As Irlam pressed and looked to kill the game in added time a wicked break was had with a long ball finding No 9 (Adam Latham) who took a touch, darted and duly buried - 1 - 1 - and soon after that was the way it stayed.

We now entered the shoot-out, the first two spot kicks were buried and then the home No 1 (Lee White) saved low in the corner and gave his team the early advantage.  The next 6 extra hoofs found the back of the net, it was 4 - 4, the green-glad White now stepped up to win this one and get the job done before the finger-nibbling tension of sudden death.  The shot was had, the opposing gloved guardian dove and saved - was this the ultimate turning point, the final twist in a game that in the main, had been touch and go.   4 more penalties were buried with controlled quality and then Avro's No 11 (Daniel Parkinson) was denied by a classy save that left huge responsibility on the shoulders of No 16 (Jordan Icely).  The blue clad sub stepped up, slotted home without a bead of sweat on the brow - the Mitchells had done it, round two awaited, for Avro it was a sore way to end a long night but as compensation I think their No 1 (Joseph Boyling) very much deserved my vote for Man of the Match with evidence of a keeper very capable, with an ability to read the game and of course able to make quality save after quality save and keep his team competitive.

FINAL THOUGHT - I expected a close-one tonight, as it turned out my 1 -1 prediction was bang on but Irlam definitely deserved to sneak through come the end of the night.  They play a sound passing game, for the greater part of this one kept up a relentless pressure game that gave their opponents no time to truly settle.  The hosts are rolling mightily well at the mo, when such a flow is had it seems luck will also shine favourably but let us be honest, in many instances a good team will make their own luck.  Avro displayed a quality tonight that will put them in good stead for their league campaign, that quality being 'resilience'.  Despite struggling to get a foothold in this one they refused to bend down and be buggered and stayed upright and resisting throughout and even when they suffered a double-whammy they dug deep and nearly pulled the rabbit out of the hat, or if you prefer the buttplug of ill-fortune out of the rectum of hope.  The premiership this year offers up 3 places for promotion, will any of these two be in the mix, I think so and reckon it will go right to the final weeks, I think we all need to stock up on nerve tablets before Brexit comes and before things get to hot to handle.

TWO HALVES, TWO TALES

1st October 2019 - Wythenshawe Town 4 v 0 New Mills - The weekend was spent primarily rain soaked and mentally mithered.  Tis the season of the shroom and I am out and about in all weathers spreading the word, striving to get the overlooked noted and hopefully turning a few heads the right way.  I hang around in the woods showing people my Stinkhorn, letting them examine my Crampballs, allowing them to taste my Milkcaps and even have a dabble with my Jelly Ears - I have yet to be arrested.  Due to these myco demands I cannot do any weekend football matches this month so, like Count Dracula and indeed the Wolfman, I must become a creature of the footballing night.  On this occasion I had chosen to feed on the lifeblood of the North West Counties League First Division South, drink in the pulsating action, digest what I witnessed and hopefully regurgitate a stream of florid textual intrigue that will reflect what actually transpired.  So, after coming home after work, feeding the fanged sirens I keep locked in the shed and donning my cape, I, along with my wonderful bride, set out from Castle Fungalvania and headed to this local'ish ground for an expected feast.  We were welcomed by many fine folk, slightly chilled updrafts and a sable night where many a victim may be found.  I chatted and awaited the action, the teams came out and I opened a vein and dipped in my quill - the parchment was scrawled, I think I really do need to get a grip of my wandering mind.

A free-kick brought the first intrigue with the visiting No 7 (Chiek Mbeye Thiam) bumbled to the ground in an unceremonious fashion.  The delivery was half-decent, the flick header not too bad but the keeper read the situation well and safely gathered.  A kick from the corner soon followed after a mis-timed back header.  The ball was posted into the box of potential peril, a touch on from the guest No 9 (Benito Lowe) saw No 11 (Edward Driver) swing a shank and not make any significant contact - it was a shame as the slightest touch would have surely brought the opening goal.  The gold and black clad Millers were up for this tonight and continued to push harder than a pregnant pygmy with a 2 stone baby wedged in the womb.  Several corners, free-kicks and half chances made sure the host rear pack were kept mightily honest and hard-working with Lowe coming sincerely close via a run and shot that quivered the stubborn upright.  As an aside, I once went for piddle in some backstreet urinals in Blackpool and ended up getting my upright quivered, I am still wondering to this day if what happened was all a bad dream or a subliminal fantasy I am duly suppressing!

In response to the persistent pressure all the home team could offer in response was two corner kicks, both of which came and were duly consigned to the folder marked 'shite'.  Another free-kick for The Millers came, No 4 (Darren McKnight) knocked it forth the keeper chose to punch rather than collect.  The sphere was there to be leathered, an infringement withered all pulsating radars of excitement.  The game became slightly more balanced as the hosts got a foot in the door, the visitors kept on coming and kept on seeing chances disappear - this would surely come back to haunt them.  At each end of the pitch attackers surged, they were met with many outstanding tackles and last ditch blocks, the first goal was gradually taking on an even greater level of importance.

Into the flesh of the action, No 6 (James Nield)) for the guests tried an audacious chip from distance, it wasn't that far off the mark and then No 10 (Will Ozono) was on it, dashed with direct determination but was denied by another top drawer tackle.  The flow against the Wythy back pack kept on coming, a header from a corner went wide, Mbeye-Thiam made room and shot next, the home No 2 (Adam Cooper) somehow cleared off the line.  Another angled hoof followed, No 5 (Adam Jones) rose, made sound cranial contact only to see the mitter tip sweetly over.  2 more corners followed, The Town scrambled, hassled and just did enough to keep the scoresheet blank and when another burst came and several shots were blocked one couldn't help thinking that New Mills would pay a heavy price for not bagging a few strikes in this impressive attacking onslaught.

As the Millers worked Wythenshawe were granted a free-kick deep in the own half.  The ball was cracked long, No 11 (Aaron Dwyer) collected in a position of seemingly little danger.  The head went down, the legs become a blur and the quick surge left potential markers trailing.  A sight of goal came, an attempt to shake up the situation so far was had, the strike was true and against the tidal flow we had the opening goal - a true sickener if ever I saw one.

The closing stages of this enthralling first half saw New Mills try and salvage something from a scenario gone awry.  As they advanced No 4 (Dean Warburton) for the hosts gained possession, played a simply delicious ball that Dwyer collected with insatiable desire.  The potential 3 markers were left standing, the trigger was pulled - the net bulged inward and the double whammy, thank you mammy was complete.  The referee blew soon after to save New Mills from any more untoward cruelty.

Half-time - a wander, Abbey Hey Pete was encountered said 'hello' and duly collapsed in a Evo-Stik induced heap.  We went for a cuppa, we were served via a machine with a prostate problem.  The resultant liquid that trickled forth was partaken of - myself, my good lady and STP Stu compared notes - we all agreed it was the worst coffee we had tasted in a long time with comparisons made to Castrol GTX, mud and sewerage - just for the sheer hell of it we drunk every last drop and awaited the allergic reaction or outbreak of boils.

The teams took to the grassy stage once more, I saw one fellow being taken away on a stretcher after inhaling the fumes of the aforementioned coffee and a lady claiming to have seen bean-based visions due to drinking two cups back to back.  The football now was a balanced affair, Wythenshawe had a mid-paced sortie with Dwyer receiving in an almost innocuous position.   The player on fire started to work inwards, he had a look at goal, struck and watched the globe cross the line and complete his hat-trick - this was not the start the New Mills pack needed.  Things could have been even worse soon after when the 3-goal grabber knocked forth a lovely cross that No 7 (Brad Byrne) almost finished (emphasis though on 'almost').

For a long stretch now the stuffing had gone from the game and a long period of arid and middling football came.  The hosts played at a considered and controlled pace, their opponents tried but had lost that initial spark.  Again Dwyer came, a cross was played, No 8 (Dominic Smalley) was at the far post and was just short of grabbing the icing on the cake.  After calling upon their reserves and creating something akin to promise new Mills did have a crack on goal via a bonus boot.  The save that came was spot on, there would be no way through for a team who had nearly given their all.

The game now fizzled like an Alka Setzler in an acid bath.  New Mills continued to push in the hope of a consolation but were caught unawares by a cutthroat razor break that saw Brad Byrne fly with focus, blaze an unstoppable trail and finish in the most clinical fashion possible - it was another example of efficiency and of taking ones chances - it was the final action of the game and left us all taken aback at the turn of events after such a good opening effort by the visitors.  Man of the Match goes to the obvious today, Wythenshawe Town's No 11 (Aaron Dwyer) for defying the flow and taking his chances when most required and with a pure assassin's eye.  The work rate was spot on, he made himself available throughout and he did what he was required to do - bag those goals.  Farewells were made to all, it is good to see folk indulging in the joys of the NWCFL shenanigans - long may it continue.

FINAL THOUGHT - From a game of two halves many questions were answered tonight with New Mills definitely on the up but suffering as a consequence of not taking their chances.  Before 20 minutes had passed they could have bagged a handful of goals but missed chances and some outstanding defending left the scoresheet blank with a heavy price to ultimately pay.  They are a decently organised team and during the first period really bust a gut and looked a dominant force - all they need to do now his get their sharp-shooting boots on and maintain their efforts during the full 90 minute crusade.  Tonight however they came up against a well drilled and resolute home pack who, even when not playing their best, are a tough nut to crack and can realign their ranks and still get a win.  At the rear they are almost watertight, in midfield they work with industry and when given a sniff of goal they need no second chances to bury the ball in the awaiting net.  Come season end I expect New Mills to be a mid-table team and Wythenshawe Town to be at least in the top 6 - as per, in the league of capricious outcomes and unpredictable turns, it will take a lot of hard work and a smattering of luck to keep things running smooth and the points building - let success go to those who earn it and the ball roll the way of those who do things fairly and with good, honest effort.