ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND A DRAW

28th December 2019 - Droylsden FC 1 v 1 City of Liverpool - I woke up today with a banging head and with a taste of utter disgust in my cakehole.  The head was due to sitting around over the festive period, something that plays havoc with my carcass hence why I prefer to be on the go.  The disgust was down to the bedroom radio emanating digital news that that lumpy old leech The Queen had given out her Hew Year's Honors and I hadn't got one for my work towards the realms of awkwardness and defiance - ooh the rotten old git.  Mind you, joining a list of accepting arseholes who think they have gone up a notch in society is not one of my ambitions and so I crack on regardless and spit out the silly unpalatable flavour and do my bit.  Back to reality and after a morn of cutting back unwanted foliage (yes, after consuming a hormone-riddled Gammon for Christmas my pubescence is thickening at an alarming rate), nipping to the shops with my good lady for some dosh, bird food and a Victor Kiam Fuzzaway (aye, the rectal hairs are also a problem) we had a brief tidy, a quick sort and then headed out (with daughter in tow) to a new ground for us to catch up with an old North West Counties team and hopefully witness a fine game of football.  There were many purple helmets on show at the ground, many expectant bloods and no doubt a few tits making up the numbers (well, me and STP Stu at least).  Brews, snacks and positions were all had, I was opting for a 2 - 2 draw, Stu was going for 2 - 3, my wife Gill opted for 2 - 2 and my daughter, under duress went for 1 - 2.  This is what went on!

The start involved a careful feeling out process with very little in the way of chances until the Purps No 10 (Thomas Peterson) was threaded through and duly put the ball in the net.  The glory and celebration was shat upon via a the referee's whistle though - I think the striker may have been deemed offside.  The same player, undeterred, was at it again moments later when he played a simple but effective ball to No 9 (Elliot Nevitt) who refused to crack first time and when he did let fly saw the ball blocked and sent behind for a corner.  The angled punt led to sod all, soon the hosts were breaking, No 9 (Jack Kay) was released and only had the mittman to beat, but alas the touch on goal was scuffed and the ball went wide, for me this was a big chance lost.

As matters developed further Droylsden advanced with yet more purpose.  No 8 (Andreas Bianga) battled like a fruit fly over a dropped tangerine segment (well it is Christmas), fed his comrade No 5 (Andy Langford) who crossed first time.  Again, Kay was the apical component in the mix, he found himself in the smallest of spaces but failed to make a killer touch.  The game now settled, the hosts looked to make all the running, the guests happy to soak and hopefully spring.

Droylsden pushed like constipated cows, there was much effort but no pats of potential were dropped, the COL buzzed like flying dung beetles, hoping that their opponents would over-exert themselves and lead to a slight heaving distraction.  One such moment came, Peterson chased a long ball, it looked as though an opportunity to break the deadlock was coming but the home keeper had other ideas, left his line with good impetus and knuckled the ball to safety.  Again the visitors came, a multi-pass move saw No 3 (Francis Foy) sidle in and try and place a shot - alas the effort had as a much 'oomph' as a Boris Johnson promise - what a pity!

Towards the closing stages of the half the Purps put in a good stint, Peterson and Nevitt linked up with the former player getting clattered.  From the free-kick the ball went in and out quicker than Neil Ruddock in a free-pie shop.  A driving shot followed, a handball claim ignored, a corner easily dealt with and half time it was.

The break was spent pointing the oriental eye at the urinal, supping tea and then myself and Stu had a wander round to the other side of the ground whilst my good lasses retook their seating positions up in the stands.  The game needed a goal, it was not looking likely at the mo, the digits were crossed and hope, as ever, remained high.

The teams soon came back out, the travelling eleven were quickest out of the traps, their early gusto was only marred at the last with too many touches being taken when it most mattered.  The first attack of the second segment came however for the home pack with No 7 (Danny Wilkins) indulging in a bout of galloping, playing a tidy ball to No 12 (Harry Canon-Noren) who indulged in a first time cross that was nutted disappointingly off-target.  Droylsden came again soon after, No 5 (Andy Langford) advanced with obvious purpose, Canon-Noren was the recipient of a delicious pass, the resultant shot however strayed wide of the far stick, it should at least have been on target.

The resident lads now moved up a gear, Canon-Noren went on a defiant run and earned a corner.  The ball in brought some discomfort for the visiting rear, they somehow survived but then No 10 (Domaine Rouse) came with a steaming run and earned another free-kick to keep the pressure on.  The ball was delivered, the keeper punched with authority and from here the City Of Liverpool eleven began to get some kind of a grip of matters.

We travelled into the back end of the contest, the Purple Pirates marauded forth, seemed to be ready to gain some serious momentum until Droylsden halted the tide, worked forth with a quite scintillating 4 pass move that ended with Wilkins striking the ball home and breaking, what had been, a quite stubborn deadlock.  If the truth be told, it was a bloody good goal!

The complexion of the game was now changed, the trailing lads began to display some fighting spirit, Foy was a key component and always eager to deliver first time crosses rather than fart about and see potential dissipate.  One such ball came, in-box uncertainty brought 'ooh's and 'aah's' from the onlookers, the ball eventually fell to the lower digits of No 11 (Jamie McDonald), the globe was knocked homeward - the last few minutes were set to level 'frantic'.

The last throes, the hosts came, a deep free-kick saw the ball go straight out of play and then Canon-Noren advanced.  The player in possession drove with focus, the pass to Kay saw the ball deflected behind for a corner which, when hoofed in, was met with much Purple defiance.  With little time now left Rouse for the hosts darted, the cross was without fuss and Kay just needed the merest touch to bulge the netting - how he missed is still beyond me.  Some end to end action came, the final attempt at goal came from the home No 2 (Adam Rooney ) who nutted a corner kick behind and that was indeed...that!  As we said farewells to a few Purple-ised folk, I pondered the Man of the Match and went for the stalwart and immovable rock that is the City of Liverpool No 6 (James McCarten).  His defensive stint was solid, efficient and mightily encouraging and is surely the backbone around which his team can build and progress.  As Alan Hansen once said 'if you don't concede, you don't get beat' - I think this rear guard player can help these words ring true.  Quentin Crisp once said 'if you don't bend over, you don't get bummed' whether or not this extra quote has any relevance is beyond me but I thought I would throw it in to get you buggers thinking.

FINAL THOUGHT - A game for the connoisseur this, a chess match between two battalions not fully flowing and not fully confident of their next move.  Bishops were bashed as considered plans were nullified and as both teams looked to squeeze out a killer 'mate move' what transpired was a stale situation that was indeed, thoroughly fair and justified.  City Of Liverpool are still recent newcomers to this level of football, they are still adjusting and are finding the tempo and industry just a little too tasty at the present moment.  They are no mugs though, have some good grafters in the mix and many seasoned hoofers, all that is needed is a few minor tweaks, a run of good fortune and, may I add, a bit more belief when on an attacking roll.  Support must come more quickly, balls must be delivered as soon as, options need to be created with many diagonal, darting and desirous runs - I hope to see how they get on sooner rather than later.  Droylsden are in the same boat but for me are closer to the finished article.  The loss of a few effective players early on hindered their game today, they were up against a defense who were 'on it' and the pitch didn't help by being as sticky as the hands of Charlie Chaplin when auditioning a young woman for a role in one of his pie-flinging films.  They played some swift and accurate football at times though, displayed a good industry and on another day could have bagged the full 3 point prize - alas, such are those 'other days'.  All in all though 1 - 1 was a fair result, I shall hope to catch both units again soon enough, for now though, there are just so many teams to keep up with - by heck, ain't it great!

TIS BETTER THAN TV FOLKS

26th December 2019 - Cheadle Town 3 v 1 Cheadle Heath Nomads - Christmas is done, we avoided it in the main and stayed clear of the cranial drain where greed and pointless frittering dictates.  All we asked for was each other's company (me, the missus and the daughter), a good walk, a fine dinner and a chill - we got what we wanted although we did get our young lass some essentials that she was quite delighted with.  Today we rose early, pootled about without any great haste and then my good lady dropped me off at football so my hair wouldn't frizz up in the rain (he says with heavy bitter sarcasm).  Some Non-League Football was needed, a man can only take so much of satsumas, stuffing and watching regurgitated TV, I know my own sanity levels, thank goodness for this early kick-off.  At the ground, it goes without saying, I met many a good person to chew the fat with, a few faces were absent, surely stopping in and masturbating over a re-run of the Queen's Speech is illegal these days.  Mind you, if one drops a bit of acid, wraps one's potatoes of emotion in Christmas Lights and adopts the Barry White Rub-O-Mania Love Grip then certain pip-expelling zeniths can be attained putting a local derby very much on the back-burner.  Thankfully my days of Solo Royal Romancing are over, my orb and sceptre is for one lady only and she is not a tax-fiddling idler pinching a free-life (ooh there goes my knighthood).  And so, yet again, a brew was downed, a choccy bar purchased (a Double Decker today) and positions adopted.  I fancied a low score draw, my mate STP Stu put his neck on the line with a Nomads victory - the proof will be in the pudding my friends, please add own critical custard at the end of this report.

The initial pressure of the game came via the Nomadic tribe who were unlucky to get caught offside and then who wasted a free-kick by hoofing it straight out of play.  Another gratis boot was awarded soon after when their No 11 (Benjamin Woods) was tumbled over on the edge of the box.  The ball in was blistered, the keeper just about dealt with it and then The Town began to build, a delectable ball went through to the ever-keen No 9 (Patrick Davin) but the guest mitter did well to read, sprawl and block - not a bad start at all.  The Nomads came straight back, No 2 (Thomas Rogers) knocked a good ball forward that No 7 (Kieran Herbert) chased at a slight angle.  The player did mighty well to gather and send in towards the framework with the back-pedalling mitter alert and sweetly tipping over the bar.  The corner came, I hate to be critical at Christmas but man this was 'wank' to say the least - onwards we go.

Suddenly from the to-ing and fro-ing a long home ball came, No 10 (Luca Navarro) was given the luxury of space and went on a short run before realising he had time to cut in.  Inwards he duly drove, the defenders seemed full of festive spirits and rather than smash the strikers baubles of potential they allowed him time to pull his own cracker (phwoar) and score a very eye-catching goal.  The scorer peeled away enjoying the post Christmas present, the defence were left to pick up the discarded wrapper of despondency and consider why they had been so generous!

From here, both teams battled well on a pitch as rough as Santa Claus' freshly emptied sack (oh you corrupt set of scoundrels) with wild shots coming each way and the game being slightly disjointed.  The Town continued to dictate if the truth be known, corners, throw in's, several long balls - all had their opponents scampering around and just about evading a second strike to the vulnerables.  The guests did get a certain amount of possession but off the ball movement was lacking and so options suffered.  Eventually the visitors won a free-kick after No 9 (Ashley Harrison) was dragged down just outside the crucial zone.  No 6 (Ashley Crank) took command of the situation and sent in a low fizzer that the keeper easily collected albeit at the second attempt.  As the pendulum looked to swing the home ranks burst against the flow, a midfield ball was pilfered, Navarro was the dasher at the helm, the keeper left his line like a nuclear enhanced comet with a pre-programmed flight path and came out on top of a very precarious one-on-one situation - well saved that man.  The corner came, was dealt with and we looked to be heading to the break with only one goal separating the sides until...

...another lengthy ball came for the resident pack, Navarro collected, cut inward again, passed to a colleague who was given time to play the ball on and to watch No 7 (Ben Steer) drill a hefty shot towards the strike zone.  The globe was parried and No 11 (Benjamin Brooks) was the quickest to react and gratefully bulged the netting.  2 - 0 it was and when the referee blew the whistle several minutes later that is the way it stayed.

I wandered for an Arthur Bliss at the break, had a natter with local snapper Mark Torbitt who revealed that his holiday break had been ruined after finding a family of Indonesians living inside his unstuffed turkey.  In fact, this situation didn't faze him but when he found out that one of the family was a homosexual Bob-Monkhouse imitator he found himself in a real cranial quandary!  The question Mark asked himself was twofold - A - do I book a Travel Lodge or B - do I ring the granddaughter of Marjorie Proops and get some potentially anal-saving advice.  The fact the Mark was walking with a limp may answer this question without me going into sordid detail - I do beg your parden for going off-track again but I am a great believer in transparency!

Once back in position for half two and mentally adjusted to the aforementioned confession I saw Cheadle Town now come out and go for the jugular of their opponents.  The first real gasp-raiser was had when No 8 (Andrew Lunt) posted a ball toward goal with focused zeal.  The attempt was just flying off target, Davin tried his darnedest to apply a deft touch with his glabrous scalp, the contact made was minimal and the trajectory of the ball altered not one
jot.  With a fine wire now being tiptoed along the Nomads swept forth, the move was smooth and effective, Harrison was at the apex with a steady side foot shot that the home No 1 (Marcus Burgess) turned away in stunning fashion.  The angled hoof came, Crank nutted wide, now this was more like it!

2 substitutes were now made by the trailing pack, a battling period ensued until the home lads broke, Steer was given time aplenty out wide to pick a player.   The ball in was delivered low and with great accuracy, Brooks appeared, said 'thank you very much' and belted home to surely seal the 3 point prize.  Kaboom!

For a good spell now the team in front did what they had to do whilst the pack in great deficit ran around in ragged fashion and tried to salvage a consolation.  It was Navarro for the hosts however who had the next punt, the shot was decent enough but remained shy of the strike zone and then, when the guest keeper was seen to be on walkabout again, the same player had an open goal to penetrate but rather rushed his effort and again put the ball wide of the mark.  

Into the last 10 minutes we now tumbled, a free-kick was earned for The Nomads which Crank delivered with fine precision allowing No 5 (Joe Hare) to flick home with his eager bonse.  Surely this wasn't the start of a comeback, well, as it so happens...it wasn't.  A few efforts came at both ends and just before the final whistle the visiting No 14 (Ashley Stott) found the ball at is feet but just couldn't control it quick enough to get in a sure-fire dig and then we were done.  

The game had been a decent affair from two struggling units with Cheadle Town winning due to the fact that they were more organised at the back, won most 50/50 balls in midfield and had more adventure and options up front.  For me the Cheadle Town No 8 (Andrew Lunt) gets the nod for Man Of the Match for a breathless and battling effort that maintained good impetus, kept the middle of the park highly animated and for a resolution that gave his opponents very little time to set themselves.  It was a performance that could easily have been overlooked but was a stint with very telling impact.  After farewells to many a fine bod I went home to ponder matters further, I don't think I was alone.

FINAL THOUGHT - I watch Cheadle Heath Nomads more than most teams, they are closest to my home, they have a great set up and have a superb friendly and welcoming attitude.  I am an honest bloke though, I am renowned for it on the punk scene, I have wallowed in hot water on many occasions but hey, flowering things up is not the way and so I must put hand on heart and label Cheadle Heath Nomads today as very, very poor.  In defense they were in disarray at times and rather fractured, the midfield seemed just off the pace and up front serious options were lacking and the offside trap was fallen into far too easily.  From a team looking tough to beat they now look like a pack out of ideas and with low morale, these things happen though and it is now when questions will be asked and the time when many will have to prove their worth.  I think a strip-back to the basic principles is needed and an approach that sees the team work as one unit looking to stop conceding before thinking about gaining - there is a serious conundrum to be cracked and time is of the essence.  Cheadle Town have not impressed on the few occasions I have seen them this year, they seem like an unexploded hand-grenade always waiting to happen but today they had enough nouse to grind out a tough derby fixture, score a couple of fine goals and see the game out to the final rattle of the pea.  They were hardly up against the crème de la crème but they still won the game and if, in the next few days, they can add a second victory to today's well-deserved win the season may take a turn for the better.  I think the month of January will reveal everything and a few shocks could be in store - as per, it is all edge of the seat stuff, get your nerve tablets ordered - now!

PRE-FESTIVE TUSSLE

21st December 2019 - Wythenshawe Amateurs 0 v 2 Eccleshall FC - I woke up today the veritable 'Gunky Monkey' with a sore throat and a bonse full of cloying snot.  My head was spinning, another night of mind-molesting mares saw one dream conjure up visions of me lying in a sweat-soaked bed with a giant leech beneath the covers for company that had only malevolent thoughts on its primitive vindictive mind.  As one can imagine I woke with a petrified todge doing its best 'Acorn Impression' and a tense-laden carcass that really did need a good shaking up.  The morn was spent tidying, doing the previous night's gig review which involved 2 bands called 'Wolf Bites Boy' and Grade 2' and many fine faces all swilling and nattering whilst enjoying the noise avalanche on show.  Following a good dinner my wife returned home after a shopping trip with (add own brass fanfare) my fine daughter who was back from University for the holiday period.  Despite being a snot monster my spirits were lifted and I arrived at the local footy ground in good heart.   This was the start of another busy day as I had another gig to attend afterwards, ideally I would like 5 goals, some good tunes and a sound night's sleep before 2 weeks of work-free doofing began - here we go, here we go, here we go.

So at the ground, I grabbed a cuppa and chose my viewing spot, a Buzzard, a Grey Heron and 4 Ring Necked Parakeets flew overhead as the teams entered the fray, I was keen to see a good match along with the other eager beavers, a festive goal glut would be nice, ho, ho, ho - into the report we go!

The start was both steady and controlled with both teams slowly feeling their way into matters and assessing what their opponents had to offer.  The first assault on goal of any import came via the hosts.  No 7 (Ryan Briody) was located out on the flank, the cross that was delivered found the noggin of No 9 (Daniel Egan) who propelled the ball off target from a very close-in position - in truth it could easily have been the opening goal.  The same team were soon looking to amend this early miss with Briody providing another cross that was met by an ineffectual toe poke toward goal.  The guests gathered deep and looked to break, No 7 (Josh Lane) raced over the dampened turf, he was unlucky to get the ball stuck under his feet and see some throbbing potential disappointingly wither into the cold annals of 'what could have been'.

A Redwing parted the air overhead as Wythenshawe held good possession on the pitch, they won a corner after much eye-catching movement.  The globe was delivered, No 3 (Luke Worth) dashed in and nutted just shy of the sticks.  Interest was now rising, a flock of Goldfinch tinkled overhead and a Lesser Black Backed Gull glided by on lazy wings as a long hoof up for the home team saw Briody gather, turn and clatter - alas once more the globe strayed off target and the guests feathers remained unruffled.  

A battling midfield melee saw Wythy's No 8 (Louis White) leave the mush and knock a long ball to the far post that No 10 (Arron Hevingham) tried with all his might to head home - darn the neck that refused to elongate and help grab the first goal.  Wythenshawe were playing some good football here, another toe poke to the far stick saw the ever-active Briody arrive just too late and then, against the general swing, Eccleshall won a free-kick.  The ball was struck long, No 9 (Ryan Baxter) nutted back across the face of goal and watched as a colleague could only head the ball straight into the arms of the awaiting keeper - now that could have been a real smash and grab moment!

The half ended with Eccleshall reborn.  A claim that the home keeper handled the ball outside of the box was waved away, from the resultant corner in-box havoc ensued with the keeper punching the ball away in desperation and his defensive ranks scrambling around like cockerels with  their chuffs on fire.  Another angled kick came, a drive towards goal blocked at the last and then Wythenshawe had one last surge but the Eck stood as firm as ever and we went into the break void of goals.

I stayed put for the break, listened to a Robin sing in a nearby tree and watched 2 Magpies noisily chase one another whilst a brace of Carrion Crows flew off into the increasing murk with great indifference.  I indulged in some Yoghurt Raisins and contemplated which way this match would swing.  I had not made a pre-match prediction, I think it was a wise move, this was very much a tough game to call.

Half two soon began, the home lads attacked without further ado, Hevingham mailed a flawless cross that Briody latched onto at the far stick.  One touch was had, the keeper sprawled and did his bit and into a short, fragmented period of play we went.  From the dislocated session Hevingham for Wythy advanced and was dragged down on the edge of the box.  Briody sent forth a low grass-skimming shot to the bottom corner that saw the visiting No 1 (Louis McCarthy) do well to save. 

Back and forth the play continued until the hosts pushed and were surprisingly caught with their trousers down as a long boom ball was returned and the resident defence stood still whilst hollering for the salvation of the offside flag.  The liner was not convinced, No 7 (Josh Lane) for Eccleshall was not to be deterred, dashed on, picked his spot and put the ball past the keeper and into the net.  0 -1 and the game was now definitely...on!

The onus was now on the Amateurs to grab the game by the globes and squeeze out the pips of potential and see to it that they impregnate the promise and help give birth to a bouncing bundle of success.  The first grip came, Egan to Hevingham and on to Briody who wasted no time, cut in and boomed...over.  Soon after the apical component of the previous move had another effort which again had too much uplift but the hope was renewed, Eccleshall needed to be on it and on it they were.  As Wythenshawe continued to push their opponents dug deep.  A ball was won, one pass played and in stepped No 11 (Bradley Carr) to double the lead.  This was the ultimate kidney punch to the hosts, they doubled up with disgust but refused to buckle, down the home stretch we went with high effort from both squads and a pleasure to behold.

As we raced through the final 20 minutes shots came each way, the home lads put together some delicious passing moves but only to be met by flying resistance and the debilitating emotion of frustration.  Just prior to the end a quite scintillating move saw Wythy's No 2 (Christopher Howard) released.  I thought a goal was on the cards and a shake-up of the scoresheet was going to make for some real hectic final thrusts.  Alas the ball, when clattered, kept on rising and the last clutch of the straw was taken - soon after the full time whistle signalled the end and we were left to watch one team walk off wondering how the hell they lost this and the other team hold their heads high, happy with their game plan and effort put in.  Despite Eccleshall winning this one the Man of the Match goes to Wythenshawe Amateurs No 10 (Arron Hevingham) who played an absolute belter of a game, sent forth many quality balls, was always looking to play a neat flick or inventive pass and who, at times, seemed unplayable.  In truth, this was one of the best solo performances I had seen this year, he was unlucky to be on the losing side.

FINAL THOUGHT - Wythenshawe Amateurs are now languishing in 17th position in the North West Counties League Division South - I am 100% sure this doesn't reflect how good this side are and is not where they will end up.  Today, it was in front of goal where they came unstuck with that finishing sharpness just not there.  From the rear to midfield and just beyond they played some quite impressive pass and move football but, as is all too frequent at this level, it was at the fore, when a chance became apparent, that impetus was impeded and a certain final accuracy just abandoned ship.  If the team fail to correct things they could be the winners of the greatest unfulfilled potential award for this campaign.  I am sticking my arthritic neck out here and predicting a top half finish, I believe but does anyone else.  Eccleshall FC are akin to freshly baked conkers and are a sincere tough bastard to crack.  They are the Times Crossword puzzle of the league, they pose many problems and very few teams are coming up with the answers - they are a well compiled unit and offer many cryptic challenges in every area of the pitch.  One thing though is easy to pinpoint and that is the relentless work rate put in, an ethos exemplified today by many players, particularly their No 8 (Jordan Benton) who dashed about like a ferret with an arse full of steroids.  I am very happy to see this team turn a corner after some real struggles over the previous years and a trip back to Perhsall Park is very much on the cards.  They have played a few more games than most of the teams around them but for Christmas Day everyone involved with the club can be happy that the current 5th place is thoroughly well-deserved.

BERNARD MATTHEWS APPROVED

18th December 2019 - Cheadle Town 1 v 2 Stone Old Alleynians - The week had been spent working, watching football and having some real hum-dinging nightmares - I was rather frazzled before tonight's match to say the least and after washing machine mither, some on-line provocation exposing the usual nob-rottery I marched down to destination 'Park Road' where I met STP Stu and shared a brew and had a good chat.  Of course, upon arrival, I had a brief natter with the amiable bloke on the gate, a chap who always brightens the horizons and despite the odd bodily compliant, always remains utterly chipper.  I reckon he is ether drugged out of his mind, is totally insane or has an oiled up rubber man at home that has certain appendages that will make even the most fed up soul smile.  I once tried the 'Bendy Bob' option, I ended up with some severe skin burns and chapped lips that the doctor seemed quite mesmerised by - luckily I didn't mentioned the blistered nipples.  Anyway, before I digress further,  the good company was enhanced by Rob York of Stockport Town infamy plus a cuppa and a choccy bar (cheers Stu).  Once up in the stands Nomads Nev joined us with his forte of 'shite' jokes and always friendly banter although I am sure his cracks about burning all bald women are a trifle un-PC (he does have a point though).  And so, with the distracting globe whacking being my prescribed medicine tonight, I was, as per, hoping for a goal glut with my money on the away side pinching this one. I must admit though, I am not known for my predicting skills, in fact I have yet to meet anyone who has an ability to predict the outcome of these Non-League conundrums, it is what makes it so intriguing I guess.  And, as per, to the game proper.

The gnashers of the guests were bared early with direct intent shown.  The wind was going to be a critical factor tonight with its blustering uncertainty set to create a really patchwork contest.  The first chance from the swirl-fest saw the home No 8 (Andrew Lunt) muscle in and let fly a shot on target that the keeper easily dealt with.  No 7 (Justin Pickering) came next, weaved his way into the box and had a penalty claim before getting up, dusting down and re-posting the ball that the keeper mis-punched and a defender cleared off the line.   A promising start with Stone eventually getting up to speed and playing a few long 'with the wind' balls.  Eventually one such hoof found No 9 (Jack Tomlinson) with the ball at his feet 25 yards out and with the opposing keeper on walkabout.  A close marker was shrugged off, a first time dig skidded over the dampened turf, 0 - 1 it was and a well taken strike was bagged.

From here things became drab and dreary with the gusts taking the fluidity out of matters and making for one arduous affair.  A Stone corner led to a Cheadle break that saw the guest keeper dash from his line and just about thwart the plans of the advancing front man.  At the other end and Tomlinson nearly snuck in but again that bloke with gloves did what he was required to do.  A distinct void of excitement led to an atmosphere lacking in life, the cold, the rain dominated, the distant call of a warm living room, a Fray Bentos and Kojak on the telly all seemed a million miles away.  Tomlinson attempted an overhead kick after a defensive muddle with the result not far off the mark but, other than that, the game remained rather flaccid.

3 corners were had by the visiting pack, all brought no joy, the last of these angled hoofs saw Cheadle gallop away with No 9 (Patrick Davin) at the apex and denied at the very last by a quickly sprawling keeper.  Before the break Stone's No 6 (Oliver Davies) rifled one and brought out a solid save from the resident No 1 (Marcus Burgess) and then after a couple of offsides at each end, we were done.

Cuppas were provided by the Cheadle Heath Nomads secretary Nev Pearson at half-time, I made sure I watched mine being served and that no muscle-relaxants were popped into the liquid.  It was a nice gesture by Nev but I am not a fan of having a sore arse at Christmas so thought it best to be just on the safe side.  We chatted away to a few folk during the break, the general consensus regarding the game so far was 'shite' although one sharp bounder did ardently claim that this verdict was an overstatement.

Back in position, the start was poor, we were indulging in some early festive Turkey, I may become a football veggie, pass me the sprouts of success you bastards.   Suddenly my dish of misery was pushed aside, a pudding of promise was offered via a long free-kick awarded in Cheadle's own half.   The ball was cracked forth, the keeper reached, misread the trajectory and fumbled.  Up popped Davin and, like a retro-frontman, bumbled the ball over the line - it was a crappy goal but very much needed - phew , surely this was the finger up the gobblers arse we were all waiting for, now for some stuffing!

Cheadle now began to apply some solid pressure, their No 11 (Ben Steer) was a key element with many good dashes and some humongous tosses from the touchline which posed many a problem.  I have witnessed a few touchline tossers over the years, it was nice to see a positive bent on this label, one tries to stay upbeat.  The aforementioned bod took a free-kick next, the ball took to the air, dropped towards to top corner but the guest keeper did well to push over the horizontal.  The corner posed no further threat - as you were folks.

Stone struggled to get to grips with the head-on howlings, the gusts doused all attempts at progress until a defiant surge saw a free-kick won.  The ball was struck firmly at the goal, the keeper saved but couldn't hold, up stepped No 10 (Matthew Thomas) and the travelling pack had regained the lead. It was a choice moment as the Stone keeper had been getting some dug-out stick from the opposition after his own fumble and yet Karma played a spiteful card and a full pay back had been dealt - one should never tempt that tinker called Fate.

From this point Cheadle dug in, Steer had a chance to deliver a quick counter but the man between the sticks saved mighty well and then some rather disjointed scrapyard tussling took us down the final furlong with the referee's back buckling, a few tasty tackles flying in and in the end, the conditions winning the day.  The final whistle came, we considered this game as not of classical proportions and from the cloying porridge I nominated the Stone Old Alleynians No 9 (Jack Tomlinson) as Man of the Match for being a perpetual thorn, grabbing a goal and always being free and willing.  It was a hard job to be up front on such a night, the lad did well to stick to his task that's for sure.

FINAL THOUGHT - To be fair, I would be very harsh to judge the teams on the evidence shown tonight as it was a very sketchy game lacking any choice cut and thrust and damned from the off due to the cryptic hands of Mother Nature.  What I could make out was a home team still not fully settled and certainly not the finished product with the creative juices not fully flowing and a lack of direct drive apparent.  The away team are a solid unit that can grind out a result even when things are not in their favour and are very much in the hunt for promotional prizes this time around.  This is one tough league though, Cheadle Town will do well to get to mid-table, anything less than a move up to the next league will be considered a disappointment for Stone Old Alleynians.  After the festive hoofing and late winter battling things will be a little clearer as to where these units will end up - somehow, I think there may be some close calls along the way and few upsets - we still have a long way to go folks.  In the meantime, for us humble onlookers, let us hope we get a few better matches to view along the way and this ruddy unpredictable weather behaves itself for a bit.

SHELL-SHOCKED

17th December 2019 - Ashton Town AFC 5 v 0 Shelley - The second of three days of footballing action on the trot, this time to a ground we have visited on a couple of previous occasions, the last time done in absolutely foul weather that saw several people turn blue and one fella ending up in need of willy-to-willy resuscitation.  The same bloke was later arrested when found in a compromising position with a corner flag - I leave you the reader to make up your own mind, onside, offside or a swing to the queer side - it takes all sorts.  The day today was hectic at work, it is the silly season and people are getting a trifle hepped up.  Even though I am a cantankerous old git when it comes to the festive fraudulence the job I do is helping Young Carers - I have no complaints.  After work I cycled home, cooked tea for me and the good lady whilst watching some dross TV.  'Tipping Point' was the initial viewing but I soon switched to 'Dad's Army' although listening to the water works problems of Private Godfrey was surely no way to step out into the cold and watch some ball-booting antics.  I tucked up, knotted certain flaccid parts and gave my good lady a hug of encouragement - she is the best supporter in the world, I think she's rather fond of Fungal Wanderers FC (FC standing for 'fervent crackpot' perhaps) and keeps me going through thick, thin and the bits in the middle.  We arrived in good time, invested some coinage in heated liquid and waited until the last minute before exposing ourselves to the frisky elements.  Once in position I persuaded my digits to go to work, they were far from happy.

Tonight's contest saw the hosts begin with high animation and hustling buzzery from the off.  Within the opening minutes Shelley were unsettled, the home No 10 (Dylan Glass) gathered, had one look at goal and swung the old ham shank.  The ball flew, the keeper was too late, 1 - 0 it was - cripes.  Within seconds of the restart the team in front won a free-kick, the globe was played quickly, pounced upon and slotted home - luckily for the visitors an infringement had been noted - no goal.

The opening throes remained vocal and active, Shelley offered a wild shot on goal in response to their opponents vim and vigor and then attacked with head-down focus with their No 6 (Carlton Pownall) showing great tootsies and earning a free-kick - it was a shame the gratis delivery went straight into the abdomen of the awaiting mitter.  Ashton invested in some pay back, a ball went up, came down and was touched on with the striker No 7 (Jason Carey) collecting, using great strength and sweetly firing the ball home.   An uncomplicated approach that produced an efficient end product - what a good goal it was.

From here, credit must be given to the guests who battled like rectal blowflies over a freshly exposed ring-piece (well, something like that) and kicked up the turf with great industry in their attempt to get back into this one.  No 9 (Daniel Taylor) bust a gut and released a pass to the awaiting Pownall who was tumbled and awarded yet another bonus hoof.  Once again the push was wasted, but the pressure was building and the effort noted by this touchline observer.  Several shots came at the Ashton goal, one of which had the right amount of pace and accuracy but one that failed to beat the reaching keeper who neatly tipped over into the now frosted murk.  The corner saw the hosts survive with desperation, another free-kick soon after was cracked straight at the keeper and several probing passes just lacked that pure-edged quality to create that all important golden chance.  As the half came to a close Shelley remained on top whilst Ashton looked to break and keep the opposition honest - it had been a good first 45 minute session - more of the same please for half two.

We had a warm brew for the break and shared a few biscuits.  The icy fingers of the night had now started to reach the internal gubbins, I am still at a loss as to why certain parts are still attached.

The second period started in the same fashion as the first with the hosts bursting from the traps like whippets with their doo-dahs dipped in pepper.  Carey flew the flank, the cross posted was spot on the mark, No 15 (Bradley Smart) found himself with time to set the range finder and wallop, the third goal of the night had been had. A stunned Shelley side were now with their bums against the bricks, they won a corner from the struggle, it went high and was nutted on target but lacked any 'oomph' to cause the keeper any untold consternation.  The travelling pack though did apply themselves well and still believed there was something to be had from this frisky contest.  Again a solid ball was played forth, this time by the guest No 5 (Allan Greenwood).  A cross followed and another crust met the sphere, once more true impact was lacking.

After a sin-binning for the hosts the tide against them still flowed until a ball from nowhere defied matters. No 9 (Chad Whyte) collected and struck with an evil ricochet seeing the ball roll past the keeper and into the awaiting net.  How this scoreline was at 4 - 0 was beyond we two peepers - tis a cracked game to say the least.  

A fractured session followed, in the midst of the disjointed action Shelley had a handball claim and a driving shot from No 8 (Daniel Keane) that was just wide of the vertical.  In return Whyte for the home lads drove, cut in and fired an effort that wasn't that far off the mark and then the ball went flat, a visiting player screamed his disgust at the referee and was duly sin-binned for his over-zealous outburst.  A middle of the park coming together saw all players indulge in the old game of 'push, shove and fuck-you' before the referee had a long conference and issued a yellow card (one can't help thinking some bugger got lucky there).  From the re-start a ball was played to The Town's No 2 (John Edgerton) who, without pause for thought, got the noggin down, moved inwards and cracked in a top notch goal to round off a decent yet imbalanced night's work - I was utterly baffled.

The game ended with great endeavour, a final ball into the perilous zone saw the Shelley substitute have a close in header that went straight at the keeper and summed up his team's fortunes.  As the whistle went the guest keeper looked bewildered, I thoroughly understood his mindset - this was in no way a 5 - 0 game but hey, the Footballing Gods are warped and wanky and play many capricious tricks with fairness being a mere fraudulence that fools the many partakers.  Man of the Match tonight goes to Ashton Town's No 4 (Carl Lownsbrough) a rock in the rear, an organisational stalwart and a player who helped make sure that his team kept a precious clean sheet.   These seemingly minor matters will go a long way to the end results come the final days of the season, goal difference could really be a telling factor.

FINAL THOUGHT - And there ya go - what a ruddy turn up for the books.  Myself and my good lady fancied a home win but never in a month of twisted Tuesday's would we have opted for this outlandish scoreline.  I say 'outlandish' due to the fact that what transpired wasn't reflected in the end result with Shelley working mighty hard and having most of the possession and seemingly on the cusp of grabbing a goal or two during many periods of the game.   I think the overall difference however was organisation with Ashton a very disciplined pack of predators who absorbed well, battled like bulldogs and always looked to play a decisive ball to cut the potential molesters to utter pieces.  They defend as a unit, tonight they did so at times in a rather unorthodox style but they got the job done - what more can one add!   Shelley are better than this though and perhaps played a little too much like '11 individuals' rather than one fully oiled unit.  They are not far away from being a completely efficient machine - it is all a question of where the minor tweaks are made and how they approach each situation put before them.  Even at 3 - 0 tonight they were still oozing belief until of course the twist of fate disemboweled any dreams of a comeback.  Shit happens, as does good fortune, I will be keeping a beady eye on both clubs for the rest of the campaign - I reckon Ashton Town will be in a very absorbing shake-up - hold onto your conkers, things could get a trifle exciting.

PS - This was my 300th match report tonight - not bad hey, here's to the next 300 and beyond - as per, up the doofers and the underdogs - onwards!