CHEADLE DOWN AS ABBEY SLAY

27th November 2019 - Cheadle Town 0 v 1 Abbey Hey - We are now getting into the winter months proper - that time of year when faces are wan, genital areas wither and ones spirits are lower than the morals of Prince Andrew (ooh the controversy).  Of late it seems I am in danger of developing 'Pit-Man's Squint' due to going to work in the dark and coming home beneath a heavy shade of grey.  I have tried to pick myself up by watching re-runs of El Dorado and Wish You Were Here but this has led to flashbacks regarding an incident with a transgender Judith Chalmers look-a-like - the sight of a bikini-line around a set of crown jewels is just not my bag (or should that be scrotal sac).  So, after a day of gloom and no solar goodness to ponder I did what I needed to do, had a word with myself in the mirror (nice nipples David) and set out for the football.  My fine lady dropped me off again, I met STP Stu as is becoming the norm as well as John D and Gareth and Sandra Evans (equally commonplace) and we all watched the night's events unfold.

The start to the game was more open than the legs of Joan Collins through the 1970’s golden age of gonad grinding (ooh err what a bag) with both teams adopting a Gung-Ho style not seen since Elton John visited the rubber anus factory in Denbigh Dale.   No 4 (Tyrone Turner) for The Hey was the first player to have a touch on goal but a last minute bromide-block quelled any hope for the rising erection of celebration.  The reply to this unexpected dig came via Town’s No 11 (Luca Navarro) who propelled forth a worthwhile pop that just had a little too much uplift.  The hosts perhaps shaded these opening stages, one move saw their opponents defending with a  touch of desperation and snuff out all danger until No 3 (Sikirulahli Hamzat) let loose a real rip-roarer that blazed mere inches wide.  From here our onlooking peepers were transported down the other end of the pitch with a quite sumptuous cross entering the box that was missed by the crown of a rising defender.  The ball fell, bounced off the awaiting carcass of No 11 (Dillon Kirkman) and went towards the goal.  I gave full marks to the mittman for his palm away, the move could easily have ended in disaster.

Abbey Hey now girded their loins (without the use of butter may I add) and started to alter the tempo of the game.  Several balls were posted first class into the Cheadle worry zone, the hosts did well to ride a passing shower but then the Hey Brigade came again, No 8 (Luke Hincks) executed a cute flick that released a dashing colleague who needed strong defensive attention and then the same player hammered in a lovely cross that was met by a rather weak header.  A free-kick the same way ensued with a  flick header by No 9 (Martin Pilkington) sweetly placed but disappointingly kissing the outside of the upright. 

From here the flow was mainly one way. More confusion reigned in the resident team’s box, a ball needed clearing off the line, Town it seemed were playing with fire and if they didn’t watch it – fingers would be burnt.  As pressure mounted the home No 4 (Andrew Fitzgerald) lost control of the ball, was immediately pounced upon but rode the tackle.  The defending bod tried to regain his feet, another tackle flew in and a collision came.  The player rolled and wriggled, the offending No 10 (Grant Spencer) for the guests pleaded innocence but was shown red – I think the tackle was without malicious intent but was lacking in control – the law can sometimes be an ass but here it was correctly applied.  

Every tackle that immediately followed this moment of controversy was met with gasps, groans and gripes, akin in fact to a Sunday Morning Sermon led by a very aroused pastor in front of a flock of 7 Day Wankers (make of this what you will).  The half drew to a close but before the whistle Kirkman of the Hey brought more vocal uprising with the execution of a right old bender (I could digress here, enough is enough for now).  The globe left the foot, curled towards the target but stayed shy of the mark, it was the closest we got to a goal before the break came – 0 – 0 – surely this was not to be a barren game!

Due to the healthy crowd, overpriced pies and an unwillingness to stand in a queue we stayed put for half-time and nattered away.  It was a shame Abbey Hey Pete wasn’t with us tonight but when the Satanic Circle of Ruptured Rodents holds a meeting, one misses it at their peril.  I did hear one member of the 4^th Withered Ring decided to go to a darts match rather than attend one such black gathering and ended up with a 20 stone arrer-thrower bumming him rigid in the pub car park and turning his eyes crossed for the whole of eternity – he never hit a double top again and was the only man in Tameside to eat peas with one peeper closed.

The second half began in a touch and go manner, there was a lack of composure and the first 10 minutes were, in truth, bloody horrible to witness.  The first excitement came when Abbey Hey won a corner that led to some in-box madness.   From the chaos Cheadle broke and earned a free-kick.  The ball flew forth, No 9 (Patrick Davin) dropped lower than a tenors balls and flick-headed on target.  The keeper was alert, saved well and when the corner came he provided enough gloved assistance to keep this game goalless.

Cheadle Town advanced next, a long ball was nudged on, No 7 (Justin Pickering) rifled a howitzer, the keeper produced a quite adequate save.  No further problems arose until Davin played a chance ball that the goalie just dealt with and then the same player had a crack at goal but the block by the visiting No 5 (Joseph Neild) was concrete.  From this moment on the back peg, the 10 men team sprang.  No 2 (Daryll Grant) gathered from a poor home pass, the ball was threaded to Pilkington who twatted a shot against the vertical.  The loose sphere fell into the path of No 12 (Elliott Fenton) who looked a trifle surprised but still managed to bungle the ball into the net – 0 – 1 – these things happen.

The game ground on, the closing stages were soon upon us, The Town stuttered like a Frankensteinian arthritic monster, a clash saw a pseudo-tussle with yellow cards issued each way, the game now had about as much excitement as a Catholic Porn Film starring Vera Lynn and David Niven – it was hard-viewing rather than hard-inducing.  Cheadle threw the last of their chipped dice, a lucky toss was not had, they were destined to roll the dreaded lone snake-eye.  At the very, very last a corner was given to the hosts, all players invaded the box, the ball was hoofed from the flag and went straight out of play – it kind of summed up the side’s fortunes – and that was that!   From a quite shabby game I was left pondering who would be the Man of the Match and went for Abbey Hey’s No 2 (Daryll Grant), a player who caught the eye with his tidy tootsies, quick-thinking and desire to protect and progress – it is players like this who are making sure Abbey Hey keep moving the right way.

FINAL THOUGHT – As happens more often than not, 10 men beat 11 and produced the goods when their backs were against the wall.  Abbey Hey are a decent squad, are winning ugly at times, winning convincingly at others but, are constantly progressing and are surely going to be in the end dogfight with both barrels blazing.  They are not  a scoring machine, they are not the most eye-catching team in the league but they are getting the results and say what you will, that is all that matters.  Cheadle Town are the perennial under-achievers, they play one good game, one bad one and the next time turn out something somewhere in the middle.  Consistency is the elusive bastard that needs achieving and for me, the full 90 minutes needs playing, a full-organisational plan needs sorting and sticking to and the whole area of the pitch needs using throughout each and every match.  Tonight they started with great promise, got dragged into the mire and lost focus and fluidity – they must zone-in on their own game and keep up the direct and swift approach.  They will avoid the drop but anything less than a top half finish will not be good enough – we can only wait and see.