ANTICIPATIONS AND OUTCOMES

27th January 2020 - Maine Road FC 2 v 2 Cheadle Town - After a day of mooching in mud for fungi and peering Heavenward at the birdies I cycled homeward and arrived on the doorstep looking highly similar to The Swamp Thing.  The afternoon was spent proof-reading the latest book I have written, identifying fungal specimens and scraping off the aforementioned slutch.  I had a film on whilst typing up some wildlife notes, a drama known as 'The Night of the Big Heat' - by heck it was filled with sweating people and aliens - a bit like a recent Extra-Terrestrial Orgy I had attended but one which I had misread and thought it was an Extra-Testicle Orgy.  The surgery prior to the event to insert a third nut in ye olde sac of conkers was a complete waste of money and one old dear was so appalled by my swinging trio of globes she had to be treated of PTSD - Post Teste Stress Disorder!  Ah the hazards of balls in abundance, I best stick to the usual two but tonight thought it best to have my eye on just one, the inflated type, one kicked hither and tither by 22 perspiring bods as part of what I deemed to be a tantalising affair.  The two units on show were both in form, promotion was like a dangled donkey's dong before a farmer with strange desires - I was highly interested to see who would reach out and clutch the shaft of throbbing promise - I think the farmer is not alone in his quirked leanings.

I arrived in good time, met up with some expected faces with and ascended and descended the mandible. Tea was a veritable must and then out into the night air we all wandered.  Predictions were made, the Jimmy Hill Todge of Destiny I mentioned in the previous report was used once more - the advice given was of a 3 - 3 draw - game on!

Cheadle Town started brightest, a low corner was cleared but immediately redelivered with the nut of No 9 (Patrick Davin) not making any significant contact to trouble the meshed area.  The same team maintained the impetus, soon after the glabrous pate of Davin was nutting the ball on with No 7 (Ben Steer) collecting, cutting in and shooting,  The effort was blocked, Maine Road burst forth like two weighted buttocks from a pair of unforgiving Speedos.  No 9 (Jack Coop) was at the climax of the counter with his own shot blocked and a follow-up dig defended with a hulking tackle of unapologetic proportions.  From here we went down the other end of the park, the troublesome Davin had another header, this time mere inches out but he could only nut over the horizontal - surely a goal wasn't too far away!

The Town were now like a thumbscrew and applying relentless pressure.  The ball was seen to be knocked around the oppositions box with the Boys in Blue dashing around like lepidopterist's trying to net an elusive scale-winged rarity.   The globe eventually fell to the feet of Davin, he had his back to goal and was tightly marked but with a quick swivel of the hips and a mere sniff of goal he turned, struck and sent the ball towards the bottom corner of the frame.  The home keeper fell, reached out and his fingertips made contact with the rolling sphere - alas it was not enough, 0 - 1 it was and what a good strike to get the scoresheet blemished.

Moments later a Maine Road midfield error saw Davin in again with time to pick his spot.  A low effort came, the keepers shanks did enough but the one way traffic kept on coming and the hosts were in danger of being run down and left in the gutter with their lifeblood of recovery trickling down the drain.  In the midst of much persistent mither the hosts had the odd sally forth but all to no avail as the well-drilled opposition stood firm.  Before the intermission No 11 (Benjamin Brooks) for the guests was fed but hit the ball on the bobble and only earned a quite controversial corner which bore no fruit and then Coop for the home lads was released and exhibited good strength only to fire his effort against the mitter's well spread legs.  That looked to be that until a free-kick for Town was had, Steer struck with great bend, it seemed a cross, no players made any contact and the keeper misread the situation - the second strike of the night had been had and on paper the result already looked out of reach for a very battered and bewildered resident unit - oh what a Doubting Thomas I am.   Soon after it was time for the break - and very much needed it was.

I stayed put during the interval and nattered to my comrades - we were all in agreement that this had been a one sided affair so far and Maine Road would have to work harder than a colony of Termites on piece-work to make any impression in this affair - were we to witness an unexpected change around?

As the teams came out our hopes of a more competitive match were dashed as Cheadle Town continued from where they left off and somewhat ruled the roost.  Steer posted a good ball, Davin flicked on, a follow-up header went straight at the keeper.  Coop for the hosts had a good run next, as soon as the globe was collected the head went down and a charge was on.  The shot was shy of the upright but a flicker of hope was cultivated - maybe...just maybe! 

From here the home team exerted themselves like a constipated elephant begrudgingly entered in a Dung-Dropping Contest.  They were in danger at all times of being caught on the hop with one such moment causing great anxiety via a resident defender who nearly put the ball into his own net.  Thankfully the ball went behind for a corner from which No 5 (Warren Gaskin) had a flick header that flew mere inches wide.  The hosts continued to perspire sanguine fluid to get back into this one when suddenly No 15 (Jamie Roe) fed Coop and a chance looked to be on.  The ball had a little too much impetus and the opportunity was lost but the flow was maintained, another thru-ball came, Coop pounced and wallop, 1 -2 and out of nothing this game had taken on an all-new aspect.

The game was now truly alive with the travelling pack filled with trepidation and an unexpected uncertainty.  Thankfully they had a very regimented defence with their No 2 (Cavel Coo) a very unassuming and effective player.  Onwards we went, The Road were playing with pace and battling for every 50/50 ball, something they hadn't been doing for a lot of the game.  The energy and animation now reached new heights, the onlookers were utterly absorbed as the end result was still far from confirmed.  From much mush and mither the hosts managed to get hold of a loose ball that was duly clattered at goal.  The keeper dived and saved but failed to hold, Roe was on it quicker than a Tapeworm on a freshly swallowed Custard Cream, the angle was tight, the punt taken - 2 - 2 folks, this was a better comeback than when Liberace headlined the Denbigh Dale Social Club after being accused of shoplifting from Eddie Arkwrights Family Butchers (what a shocker). 

Of course it goes without saying the final dashes and dramas were frantically fervid, it also may be added that many folk were on the edge of their seats and those stood up were sporting noticeably clenched posteriors but, as it turned out, the draw was the end result, a result my good lady had called thus moving her to the top of the 'Virtual Predictor League', a league so virtual that its veritable existence is dubious.   And so, from a cracking exhibition of hoofing I pondered the Man of the Match and opted for Maine Road's No 5 (Louis Edwards), a player who sometimes goes unrecognised but a player who gets stuck in, plays with strong discipline and one, who during the game, kept his team competitive, full of belief and playing with the right attitude - I like that!

FINAL THOUGHT - You pay your money, you take your chance and you never, ever know what you are going to get when watching a Non-League game.   Tonight the first half saw a fine Cheadle Town team play some forthright, dominant and unstoppable football that showed why they are in such a rich vein of form and indicating that next year, they will be one of the team's vying for promotion.  The first 45 minute display was one of the best away performances I have witnessed this year - if they can keep their players fit and together the future looks rosier than the caned arse of Billy Bunter after being caught on a scrumping excursion.  Maine Road are also on good form but the first half of this game indicated there is much work to do and no team should be kept on the back foot for so long if they have ambitions of loftier places.   Today they were given a harsh lesson but pure fire-in-the-belly passion, strict discipline and a remarkable work-rate salvaged the day - it was mighty impressive to say the least.  I personally think the team need a bit more height and a stubbornness not to get dragged out of their playing style.  Having said this, the team's method and approach to the game is admirable and one always arrives at a game with high anticipation and leaves still uncertain as to how the outcome turned out as it did - what a bloody marvellous situation to be in!

WINNINGTON WAYS

25th January 2020 - Newton Athletic 1 v 3 Winnington Avenue 94 FC - There is a classic yarn called 'The Monkey's Paw' that was first publised in 1902 and written by W. W. Jacobs.  It concerns an elderly couple who are granted 3 wishes by the said artifact of the title with disastrous results the outcome.  I have read the tale many, many times over the years and always wondered what I would do if given an effigy that would grant one 3 dubious wishes.  A couple of weeks ago I had been approached by a one-armed Hunchback who was selling a few items of interest to make ends meet, one such item was a blackened and shrivelled relic that appeared to be a dead man's finger.  I enquired what the piece actually was and was told that it was the dried penis of Jimmy Hill and if one were to acquire it then 3 correct football scores on the bounce could be predicted.  Of course I was convinced, exchanged money for member and after receiving instructions on how to use the prophesying pecker made my way home.  Today, after a morn of mooching and doing, I took out the wish-making willy from a locked drawer, held it above my head, uttered the prediction of 3 - 2 whilst turning around three-times and passing wind to affirm my desires and then safely locked it away and set out to a game to see what would transpire.  I am not a superstitious man, just simple and hey, even if the questionable cock doesn't work I am sure there is someone out there will to pay a few quid for certain phallic abominations.  

So, after a morn of nature mooching and seeing the 12th British record of a Western Siberian Stonechat we arrived at the chosen ground in good time, had a catch up with Paul Owens (club secretary/joint first team manager and general doofer) and partook of the usual liquids and victuals before picking a viewing spot.  The day was looking dull but was far from freezing and as per, we were hoping for a game to warm the epidermal expectations and beyond.

The start was steady, both teams played with caution before the home No 9 (Dan Christian) had an early hoof that was lashed recklessly wide.  In an instant, Winnies No 7 (Craig Humphries) was given the ball to nut onward but the cranial contact was poor and the keeper remained unflustered.  From here the guests had a good period of possession before Humphries was neatly played in but thwarted at the last by the home No 7 (Liam Bradley) who put in a choice last ditch tackle.  A corner came, panic ensued and two stabs at goal came with the keeper just flinging his carcass in the way and making an unorthodox double save.  Newton reacted, a bonus-booting was given with the ball leathered into the wall and leaving a visiting player prostrate.  As soon as the defending bod was upright again the guests advanced, No 5 (Scott Ravenscroft) sent in a firm driller to the keeper's midriff and once more Newton responded with Christian running his marker and firing across the face of goal, much to his vocalised disgust.

This was a well contested game, both teams seemed on the cusp of making the initial breakthrough, the question was - who would it be?   Ravenscroft put his lofty bean on a cross next but couldn't ripple mesh and then a ball out wide was played in and No 9 (Michael Evans) struck first time but was denied by No 4's (Alex Martin) rock-solid tackle.  

A period of fractured football followed, both teams stuttered like a whizzed up Patrick Campbell of Call My Bluff fame.  The resident ranks were next to push, Christian displayed nimble feet whilst cutting in and letting fly.  The travelling mitter No 94 (Joe Chatall) decided to palm away and rely on some defensive clearing which he duly received.  Soon after Christian provided another ball into the zone marked 'perilous', the initial recipient got the ball stuck between his feet before it ran loose and No 6 (Adam Pownall) slapped home with convincing authority.  1 - 0 it was and the team with the lead came soon after with a dream ball releasing No 11 (Ben Woodman) who had a first time shot snuffed out by some fantastic defending by the away No 4 (Tom Chubb).  The corner went in and out quicker than an asthmatic's chest after a diarrhoea-induced dash to the karsi, with a handball claim about as convincing as a Harvey Weinstein alibi.   Towards the closing stages of the first half Newton remained on top, a few free-kicks were won but came to nowt - we were done soon after, this was not a bad do at all.

A quick nip for a brew and a piddle and back out we came to have a chat with an away fan who was supporting his son.  A ruddy nice fellow he was, I like these non-league moochers, they are a cut above and not afraid to stand in the cold and watch some good old hoofing - tis better than sitting at home, reading a back issue of 'Bare Arse Bonanza' and squashing flies - you know it makes sense to get out on the touchline and leave your sausage and swatter alone!

Half-two and from the kick-off Winnington swarmed forth like a gathering of shit-hawks hearing news of a recently dropped bowel movement.  A cross came without further ado, Evans was waiting, given time to prepare his nut which he duly did before headed neatly home.  This equaliser put the hosts into mode 'panic' whilst the guests had a new found spring in their step.  A free-kick for the Winnie Warriors followed, Ravenscroft's header was deflected just wide.  A corner was delivered, knocked out and volleyed back with the looping effort also taking a deflection.  Another angled kick-in came, Evans was given time to put crust on globe again - the outcome was wide of the mark, Newton Athletic were now playing with fire and in danger of being blistered.   The guests travelled onwards, a ball came to Evans who looked to be in a rather unthreatening position - not so!  The marksman took one touch, turned and smashed the ball into the top corner from all of 20 yards - what a wonderful strike, what a way to turn this game around!

The hosts now needed to wake up and get to work and this they did with a free-kick won.  The ball was delivered, No 10 (Lewis Davenport) put head on ball and was clattered in the process - he fell, stood up and ran to the touchline.  The conk had been bust and was lying at a 90 degree angle to his boat-race - the bugger was all set to continue but was duly substituted, what a shit day indeed - I hope ye be back to your sniffing best very soon.

Newton now dug deep, No 15 (Matty Osbourne) was a new release valve, all that was needed was a bit of final-third composure.  The game became hectic, The Avenue were looking the quicker team in all areas and showing a greater desire.  Having said this, the home 'erberts were showing they were no mugs, Pownall had another pop at goal, this time via the noggin but the guest mitter was in the right place at the right time.  

A bit of argy-bargy followed, a few tempers rose a few notches on the emotional control scale and the odd yellow card was brandished with Newton Athletic always on the wrong side of the law.  Again Newton summoned a charge, a deflected clearance fell to No 8 (Lewis Dennan) who posted back a firm drive that strayed away from the vertical and then, after a free-kick, No 3 (Jack Dennan) had a tame shot the keeper held with ease.  Newton started to clutch at straws, a couple of corners were won, there was no joy had.  Suddenly we were in the arse end of the affair, Winnington had the ball in the corner, were striving to kill time, a cute nutmeg was executed a foul committed - the decision, penalty!  Many raised voices and gesticulations were ignored, the ball was placed and No 10 (Toni Sneyd) slapped home in the bottom corner to put the game to bed.  Seconds later the referee blew, a coming together of both teams saw snarls, foul words and several pushes ensue - all died down and I was left to contemplate the Man of the Match who I decided to give to Winnington Avenue's No 4 (Tom Chubb) who played with wilful and headstrong resistance, was in the right place at the right time and who worked his conkers off from the first to the last - and why not!

After thanks to the aforementioned Mr Owens, a quick piddle and a chat to the Winnington fan who turned out to be the penalty takers Dad, we scooted off homeward with another fine Non-League jaunt enjoyed.

FINAL THOUGHT - 2 teams, 90 minutes of persistent action.  Some grand peeps met, a chance to see folk having a go and all for sweet FA.  These are the reason I like supporting these clubs and doing a report so as to try and spread their word.  It is genuine and utterly enjoyable and right up my DIY punk street.   Today Winnington Avenue 94 FC came, got stuck in during the first half when the going was rather tough, bounced back from the restart and once in possession of the dangling gonads of the game they never let go and squeezed out a good 3 point prize.  They are top of the league, today their stubbornness showed why, they are a team who can grind and pounce which is never a bad thing.  Newton Athletic could have put this game out of sight early on, they failed to take advantage of their opponents slow start and let a few chances dissipate into the murky beyond thus leaving them with only a 1 goal advantage going into the break.  All the team needs to do is play at their own pace throughout the 90 minute period and when on the backfoot not get dragged out of their own soccer-style and stick to what they know best.  I think both teams have rosier futures, they look capable of moving up a notch and me and the missus both agreed that this welcoming ground is worthy of more visits - crikey, that's another one on the repeat list - well, someone has to, tis all worth the effort, hey and if we see another new avian species next time around that would be 'tweet-tastic - footy fantastic' - tha' never knows!

STALE CELTIC STUNNED

21st January 2020 - Stalybridge Celtic 0 v 1 Vauxhall Motors - The second match on the bounce, this one seeing 2 teams compete in the 2nd round of the Cheshire Senior Cup, another contest in this multitude of tournaments that I struggle to keep up with.  I do know One Eyed Jack Flange has recently won the Inter County Tiddly-Winks contest and will face Eddie 'King Thumb' Blithe in a highly anticipated 'Wink Off' and that Clitorina Clamp has recently been knocked out of the Hairy Canary Tennis Tournament in Southport due to a snapped knicker elastic and a severe pubic-rash - you see, my finger is on a few other pulses besides the football one.   

After a long, busy day at work I arrived home and clattered the punch-bag to relieve some inner stress before having a bite to eat and stretching ye olde carcass.  The bean had been in a bit of a stew of late, long winter days don't help so forcing the issue is a veritable must and so, when the better half arrived home we made great haste and headed out to a ground unmolested by our peeping eye and my scrawling penmanship.  STP Stu joined us, we purchased warm brews and nattered about many things.  Predictions were made, I was outlandish in mine, I blame the uppers I am on and the fact that they don't mix with PG Tips.  I was sure that before the match was over I would be seeing purple chimpanzees and orangutans with day-glo arses - it wouldn't be the first time I can tell ya.

Eventually with the insides thermally pleased, the outsides cruelly nipped, the game got underway.  I was on a good run of mesh-billowing delights of late, it would be mighty grand to keep that run rolling!

The start was quiet with Stalybridge mustering an early onslaught via a free-kick, a dangerous cross and a corner - all 3 incidents gave birth to bugger all and set a precedent for most of the game.  The tempo increased, the mist advanced and receded as the players huffed and puffed and the home No 4 (Ross Dent) was resoundingly clattered.  Play was allowed to flow on, No 9 (Darius Osei) drilled a shot that the keeper saved without dew on the brow and then the recently tumbled Dent was resurrected and sent in a lovely strike that was tidily tipped over the horizontal.  The corner came, it was free from threat - on we go dear readers.

Stalybridge, who were now having the larger share of possession prowled and pounced once more.  Osei was released and had several chances to shoot, he was far from trigger happy, the chance went begging!  The Motormen were gradually getting pushed deeper and deeper but were showing a tough resilience that was keeping the game void of any real thrills and making for a veritable stodge-fest.  Saying this, the hosts busted many guts to try and cultivate a chance, No 7 (Scott Bakkor) was a perpetual menace but all the time was well-marshalled and given very little space in which to work.

The closing stages of the half soon beckoned, a rare shot for the guests saw No 9 (Karl Noon) fire wide and then, at the other end, No 11 (Neil Kengni) streaked away like a butt-plug addict being chased by a Prostate Doctor and delivered a cross of tantalising merit.  Bakkor arrived, got the slightest of touches but failed to find the inner meshing - as you were folks.  The final action came, a ball into the guests' danger zone saw the keeper punch and a last minute clearance follow and to close matters a corner was played short, No 8 (Tony Whitehead) whipped in a cross and the mittman gathered to keep the game void of any goals.

The break was welcome, as was the brew.   We three tooters wandered to the opposite side of the ground and took another seating position.  We didn't expect any change in proceedings, the theme had been set, it could be a case of 'one goal wins it'.

The start of period the second saw Vauxhall Motors display a good desire and eventually win a gratis-hoof.  The posting of the globe into the perilous area was of choice standard with the incoming striker just a little late in making any killer contact.  The Bridge responded with a bonus boot of their own.  The ball travelled towards goal, the keeper tipped sweetly over and the resultant corner was best deemed as 'shabby'.  Again the hosts trespassed into territory deemed 'promising', Bakkor darted between two defenders like a rabid fart escaping the clutches of some very unyielding buttocks.  A glimpse of goal was generated, alas all hopes of a breakthrough were banished as the visiting No 5 (Tom Mitchell) produced an exemplary tackle.  The corner came, a touch out, a touch in and the net was bulged, tis a pity the liner saw a stray bod in an offside position.

Deeper into the match we went, a midfield foot-slog ensued, again The Bridge found the net, again it was ruled a 'no goal' - was the night destined to be strike-free spectacle?  Suddenly, after a pause in play the VM unit won a free-kick which was taken in great haste.   A player was tumbled in the box, the referee had no doubts and pointed to the spot and up stepped Noon to bury the ball and put a potential shocker at the forefront of every onlooker's mind.  

The hosts now became desperate, Vauxhall played at their own pace and threw in a few antics to help slow up the proceedings.  From the mire very little in the way of clear-cut chances came with Stalybridge making most of the running but Vauxhall Motors showing a stout-hearted determination to expose no cracks (unlike the Fred Pontin Nudist Colony in Chumley where an overspill of vulgar nooks and crannies are to be seen).  The next effort on goal was borne by the boots of the guests, Noon was at the helm, the shot was deflected wide.  The following delivery from the angle caused a touch of fuss but was eventually cleared with a few tasty tackles flying in and of course, the expected gobbology.  To be fair the lads in the lead easily held their own and the last gasps of the game were seen out with very little concern leaving the home players disgruntled and their fans looking slightly pissed off.  The Man of the Match tonight goes to Vauxhall Motor's No 5 (Tom Mitchell) who was just a cut above in defence and played a hard but fair game, produced some quality tackles and read every situation well in advance of it becoming a serious problem. I think the fella illustrates why his team are doing so well.

FINAL THOUGHT - And another game done and one that will not be filed in the memory banks as 'a classic' but one that will be slipped into the folder labelled 'Upset' with a special gold star in the corner to commemorate the visiting teams efforts.   For me, Stalybridge lacked ideas and when faced with the VM set-up just couldn't find the answers to a very confounding puzzle.  The hosts played with good zip at times and moved the ball with eager tempo but too many mistimed runs, several stray balls and just a lack of extra thrust when needed cost them dear tonight - sometimes shit happens, the key is dusting down and making sure the next run out is 100% more effective.   I can take nothing away from the Vauxhall Motors crew tonight, they came with a plan to work hard, remain rigid and make sure the game stayed as tight as a selective mutes lips.  They worked darn hard to sneak though into the next round, to win this cup though they will have to maintained the standard.  I wondered if this was possible, on the way out I consulted one of the aforementied hallucinated primates - the response I got was 'Ook eek banana' - we shall just have to wait and see.

REBOUNDING ROAD

20th January 2020 - Maine Road FC 6 v 1 Ellesmere Rangers FC - My mental health is always up and down, at the moment it is down and as a result I have missed a gig tonight.  The thought of catching a busy train into Manchester, standing in a full-room and having my ears clattered just didn't appeal and, in fact, had my guts all aflutter.  Over the years I have seen 1000+ bands, have a ringing in the head and am, at the moment, just a little disillusioned with the music scene as well as many aspects of life in general.  Football is grand escapism, fresh air, a wide space, an absorption - and, with a pep-pill, I am in a better place for a while.  Luckily I have a superb wife who helps me along and who, after yoga today, dropped me off at this local-ish ground.  It was a trifle perishing to say the least and my equally pissed off pecker could almost be heard to holler a resounding 'Nooooo' as it was semi-exposed to elements deemed cruel.  I nipped into the club-house and met John D, always amiable, always good company.  After getting a brew we watched the teams warm-up, chatted about this and that and awaited the appearance of the two-sides.  Eventually Mark Bennet joined us and after giving a good kick at the dangling knackers of the black dog, I put pen to paper and scribbled out the following observations.

The Road started brightly (they always do) and put an early ball into the box that needed clearing straight off the line.  No 7 (Oscar Campbell) sent in a return shot through a crowd of players, the keeper, who was un-sighted, produced a top quality save to push the ball behind for a corner.  From the angle the delivery was initially missed by several swinging shanks before a flick on fell to No 8 (Ben Mooney) who wasted no time in burying the ball.  1 - 0 - what a great opening thrust this was by the boys in blue.

Ellesmere tried to react to this unexpected shock, a free-kick brought no success and then a shot came after some head tennis but could only find the centre of the mittman's abdomen.  The hosts were still dictating though, No 10 (Owen Pollitt) had a firm crack wide and then a sugar sweet ball was threaded through several Ellesmere players which No 9 (Jack Coop) collected before starting to progress.  The man at the helm was struggling to get the ball in full-control, was hassled by two eager markers but somehow evaded their close attention, put in a delectable chip and watched as the globe dropped into the awaiting net with the keeper reaching into the night air - what a choice strike it was and what a way to double his team's lead.

From here the resident ranks remained ablaze with another sweeping move finalised by a cross that Coop collected and ran into the awaiting net - 3 - 0 - shit the bed, was this a dream?   Ellesmere looked shell-shocked, they were clinging on for dear life and somehow managed to win a corner.  The ball was hoofed in, the keeper held with ease, a break was had and Campbell sent in a dipper that just dropped over the horizontal.  Maine Road came again, the guest keeper left an incoming cross, a defender and a striker seemed joined at the hips in a struggle to get the all important contact.  A shout for a foul came, only a corner was won with the outcome being absolutely 'sod all'. 

The visiting team once again tried to push with positivity, they were caught with their conkers exposed once more.  Mooney was at the pinnacle of another counter, he coolly rounded the advancing keeper whilst under pressure from a marker.  Space was found, the globe stroked homeward, the game was now done as a contest and all pre-match predictions were flushed down the U-bend of embarrassment.  Seconds later the same assassin had a long hopeful lob that fell just shy of the mark, by heck that would have been pure salt in a very open wound.

During the latter stages of the half No 7 (Jack Briscoe) had a rare dig for the guests but couldn't get his shot anywhere near the target area and the same team had a good burst of possession but were thwarted by an eager Maine Road team who hunted in packs and negated every threat that came their way.  We entered the break with a gulf between the teams - it was a quite unpredictable outcome.

For the break I stayed put and chatted with two fine blokes who I had last caught up with on the previous Tuesday.  If you read these reports you may remember I made a slanderous accusation regarding the two fellows relationship and predicted that the outcome of a 'lift-home' from the last match to be a bonny ground-hopping baby.  Alas, I have to hang my head in shame after finding out contraception was used at the aforementioned liaison with 3 elastic bands and a rubber glove helping in the avoidance of situation 'tubbed up'.  I really do need to keep my vulgar trap shut but, having said that, I did noticed that John D was wearing a new perfume and sporting a rather ornate engagement ring!  And back to the game!

Maine Road were out with good hunger, Ellesmere were seen to be offering up a bit more stubbornness.  Back and forth matters went, a bout of midfield gloopiness took over, we needed a further input of excitement to get this one back on track.  From a home corner a deflection nearly caught the keeper unawares and then a follow-up corner was nutted behind.  Suddenly the hosts came with purpose, Coop had the ball at his feet and was being forced backward.   The player stayed composed, turned his marker and moved forth with a choice lay off that was touched on and then clattered home by the swiftly swung peg of No 2 (Euan Melia).  The visiting team's guts had been finally torn out and worn as bloody garters by the celebrating hosts - this was now getting ridiculous.

And next...the guests were trying to regain a certain amount of composure when a back-pass came, the keeper misread matters, Coop interpreted the mishap and collected the gift with a tidy placement into the net. It was insult to injury and too much for my 'Idiot's Abacus' to take.

The game continued, Campbell for Road had an ambitious long-ranger fly inches wide, No 3 (Connor Courtney) for Ellesmere had a rare free-kick that was all to easily snuffed out and the guest No 8 (George Durrell) had a shot soon after that was best described as 'bilge'.  We wound down to the latter stages, No 5 (George Taylor) for The Rangers produced a great defensive header to stop a chance of a 7th strike for the MR marauders and then a surprising last thrust saw the guests put in a cross that the keeper punched with the pressure remaining and allowing Durrell to have a chance at a consolation which he took in fine style and completed the night's scoring.  The game ended soon after, I saw a fellow nearby being struck down by a heavenly thunderbolt after claiming he had predicted this scoreline and another bod, clearly a Maine Road fan, strip naked and indulge in a series of celebratory squat-thrusts - it really was a little too much to take in.   Man of the Match today goes to Maine Road's No 3 (Paul Earlam), a gem of a player who stuck to his role tonight and read every situation at the rear, helped move the ball forward when necessary and who displayed a fine touch that turned many a situation into something more positive.  He is a cultured young hoofer that Maine Road need to hold onto to keep the future rosy!

FINAL THOUGHT - I always like coming to watch Maine Road FC, they knock the ball about well, try and play good on the deck football and are usually involved in many unpredictable encounters.  I said a few months ago, that soon enough all will come together and a visiting team will get a whipping, tonight was that occasion and, to make matters more impressive, it was against a set of lads who have really turned a corner of late and seemed to be worthy opponents on this bracing January night.   The differences were simple - Maine Road were eager from the off, they worked like a pack of hyenas hunting down a limping Gazelle and when the chance arose to go in for the kill they well and truly took it.  The tempo played was incessant, the movement on and off the ball exact and many players stayed within their working role and maintained a discipline that put team rather than self first - always an important factor.  Ellesmere had an off night that is for sure, they were second best and no matter how many straws I clutch at there is little to add to that summing up.   Recent results have proven they are better than this and perhaps this kick up the arse is more valuable than a few recent wins. It will stop them resting on their laurels and show that there is still a lot of work to be done.  They are at home next, I wouldn't be surprised if they meet their opponents on the rebound, it happens more often than not!  Now I just need my head to ping back into a decent place - where's them pills?

CAMPION'S FOR A DAY (AND MAYBE BEYOND)

18th January 2020 - Campion AFC 4 v 2 Hall Road Rangers - The day was planned, the outcome was altered, we cracked on and had a good do nonetheless.  Up at the crack, a 1 hour 15 minute drive and a good yomp around Bingley St Ives was had where we saw many fine natural species, had tea and toast and made the most of a grand sunny morn.  After finding that our original match had fallen victim to a churned up pitch we made our way to Campion AFC and arrived 2 hours before kick-off.  Luckily, a playing field nearby held a good flock of Gulls which I counted up and saw 3 species - these being Black Headed, Common and Herring.  Due to the litter at the side of the road I kept an eye out for an Addle Headed Shithawk (Selfishus twattus) - a foul creature that needs driving to extinction methinks, preferably via a shotgun up the arse.  Alas I didn't spot any, they are a nocturnal beast, the day time is spent wallowing in their nest of self-defeat and sitting on many cracked eggs of hopelessness - best place for em' I say!

After moving the car to just outside the ground, enjoying dinner and completing the Daily Express Crossword we entered the footballing area and killed a bit of time roaming the periphery and gasbagging with a few local folk.  Tea and chips were purchased, on-looking spots chosen, there was an icy bite in the air, akin to the chomp of a loved up zombie nibbling areas best left unmentioned - cripes, let's get this game on.  Eventually the two sides took to the pitch, there were about 40 folk in attendance, I think everyone deserved a good game and thankfully that is exactly what we got.

The Rangers wasted no time in building up a good lather with some sound communication and effective movement.  Corners soon followed, 2 for the guests, one for the hosts, the only shot to come on goal was via the resident No 7 (Aiden Day) who finalised the latter angled hoof with a low driller that turned out not to be a killer.  Campion began to get their fair share of the action with a throw in leading to some head-tennis and a overhead kick that needed a neat tip over.  The corner came and was dealt with, the home team kept up the pressure, another ball entered the box, was knocked back and duly hung in the air whereupon No 9 (Aiden Kirby) lashed on the volley and bulged the net with untold certainty.  It was a fine strike to end a pressing period of action - game on folks!

For the next segment of the game Campion dictated with the tempo leaving the opposition slightly unsettled.  In and out of the visiting box the ball went, a free-kick was won for the hosts after a dubious 'raised foot' decision was made.  No 10 (Leon Hurles-Brook) took responsibility, the strike was similar to the cock of an aroused sausage dog, low and firm, and ended up squeezing inside the bottom corner to double Campion's lead - a picture perfect strike for sure.

The action continued and remained all-absorbing.  Campion swept forth, won a corner which was hoofed high and led to a dazzling counterattack that The Rangers just couldn't turn into a decisive moment.  The guests were undeterred, maintained a bout of high intensity with the in-box animation, at times, utterly manic.  A handball shout came, much scrambling and then the globe went loose whereupon No 11 (Callum Stone) fired through a crowd of arms, legs and other bodily wotsits and somehow found the back of the net - 2 - 1 - now this was interesting to say the least!

Still the pace and quality of the game continued. Stone had another shot for the visiting pack but this time straight at the keeper and then, after a great deal of perspired pressing, No 11 (Mohammed Quasim) for Campion was released and looked to be in with a  great chance to pull the trigger and add a fourth goal to a fascinating game.  The striker was shot-shy, sent in a cross that was dutifully cleared but quickly followed up with a dig from Hurles-Brook that was firmly blocked by a flying defender.  A follow-up whack was somehow deflected just over the horizontal and nothing came from the corner, it was just as well, I am sure some of the worked up on-lookers needed a breather.

Into the closing stages of the half we went, suddenly Stone for Hall Road was released.  The player touched on for No 10 (Charlie Birley) to blaze at goal.   From the midst of the madness a handball claim rent the air, the referee pointed to the spot and No 4 (Lewis Andrews) cracked his gratis gift towards the bottom corner.  The home No 1 (Declan Lambton) lunged, reached out with great effort and pushed the ball away  - what a quite excellent save!  The game now flashed by, an overspill of outstanding gumption was exhibited, this had been a good do thus far, more of the same for half two please.

For the break we had a brew and got the blood moving in the shanks.  I indulged in a few squats and nearly exposed a turtles-head - I knew I should have been doing more pelvic floor exercises of late.  After a squeeze of the sphincter and a final slurp of the thermally gratifying liquid the teams came back out, now how would this game end?

As in the opening 45 minutes Hall Road Rangers started brightest but Campion had the first punt at goal.  The chance came after a crunching midfield tackle saw the ball move forth, Quasim collected and swept on before shooting into the side-netting, it should have at least been on target .  The guests had a chance to breathe again but they were now getting a trifle hot under the collar with blue verbals and tasty tackles more than a little prevalent.  They did however win a free-kick that resulted in some wild in-box scrambling, the hosts just did enough to save their bacon - oink, oink.

Due to the rising emotions the referee needed to step in and have a word.  He did what he had to and kept the game from bubbling over, we continued in a fair and highly competitive manner.  Campion had a corner next, it went to the back post with No 5 (Graham Hall) nutting behind and then the same team came once more with a ball finding Kirby who neatly chested down in prepation for another crack at goal.  A foul was committed on the edge of the box, the victim of the tumble took the strike and saw his howitzer get deflected over.  Another angled kick was had, this time it was wasted and from here we went into a touch and go period with a brace of yellow cards issued and the game on a very precarious precipice.

The last 20 minutes arrived, Quasim for Campion darted and had a claim for a penalty - it was not even convincing.  A few moments later and the hosts entered the perilous zone again, a player was tugged (ooh the sexy buggers) the referee ignored it, No 2 (Jason Carney) was tumbled in possession, this time the man in black was in no doubt - penalty given and duly buried by Kirby, 3 - 1 it was and the exact score that my good lady had predicted prior to kick-off.

From here untidy tackles and mistimed collisions came, mud flew, brows furrowed and strained desire was exposed.  Hall Road Rangers had a fine bout of possession and passed the ball in a highly convincing method.  Campion remained stubborn and disciplined before Kirby was released again only to be thwarted by an outstanding tackle by the visiting No 6 (Alex Knaggs) - a solid moment for the footballing afficionado.  The trailing tribe pushed next, a cross came, a rebound and a low shot by No 15 (Kallum Findley) - cor blimey guv'nor - 3 - 2 it was - could we be in for a comeback after all that had transpired thus far?

The resurrected team now played with hectic hunger in the hope of snatching a point from a game that looked lost.  The squad with the upperhand looked to kick the stuffing out of the contest and hold up the ball whenever they got the chance.  Stone for the guests had a dash late-on, went down in the box a little too easily and had his penalty shout waved away.  Campion responded with a long ball that was nodded on to the feet of the substitute who was fouled just inside the box.  This time a spot-kick was granted, Kirby fired home and bagged his hat-trick and three points for his team.  In the dying embers No 2 (Tommy Ward) for Hall Road had a shot over and then we were done.  What a ruddy good game this had been, 100% commitment, 2 teams playing good football and not afraid to 'get stuck in'.  From the drama and the delight Campions No 9 (Aiden Kirby) must get the Man of the Match award due to being a perpetual menace, consistently working back, playing some neat touch and turn football and of course, bagging three-goals.  A ruddy good stint chap, keep the focus and many more goals will follow.  We duly pootled off home perished but pleased, this had been a good un' and that is for sure.

FINAL THOUGHT - So another trip into the North East Counties Football League and another game thoroughly enjoyed.  I am always bewildered why these games don't get more attention and more assistance from authorities higher up - they are missing something special and seeing some real lynch-pins in the community - ooh the silly bastards.  Today I saw Hall Road Rangers travel a goodly distance, bring a few followers and play with passion on a cold January day only to come up short and travel home pointless - over the coming weeks they will be doing it all again but I reckon, if they continue playing like they do, will win more than they lose.  At times they looked a complete unit, now and again just got dragged the wrong way and gave their opponents a chance to cause consternation - all the team needs to do is maintain discipline and stick to the smooth on the deck passing, I hope we can catch them again at some point, they certainly play with a  style that makes for a good game.   Campion are riding high, the reason behind this is that they play at a consistent high rate of knots, take their chances when they fall and use the full playing surface and seem to have many back-up plans.  They have a squad of hard-working players who give their all and play with a certain awareness.  They may just well push on now for the ultimate promotional prize, I reckon it would be rude not to return, in the meantime, keep up the momentum and here's to a fine future for ya.