The opening soccerised spillage saw the hosts produce the first foray on goal with some quick play ending in a shot that forced the keeper to dive, save and duly jump up and bollock his dozing defence. The guest ranks reacted with vigor, a rapier-like move saw an unkindly bounce of the ball put the host's rear in trouble with No 3 (Jack Tinning) the pilferer and No 6 (Jake Parker) the striker of the ball - alas the bulge in the net was negated as an offence had been spotted and the embryonic celebrations were snuffed out - all together now - 'The liner is a spoilsport, the liner is a ...'. From here the guest squad started to dictate but only one shot came at goal, via Parker, which went straight at the keeper. The Road did what they do best, scamper and mither and put in an admirable work-rate. Eventually this toilsome effort bore fruit with No 9 (Jack Coop) showing good strength and feeding No 6 (Oscar Campbell) who had a quick dash and dig that forced the keeper to reach up on high and pluck the globe out of the air with relatively easy hands. The flow against the blue-clad hosts continued but time ticked on with surprising speed and the lack of genuine thrill and spill action meant that the MR lads were still very much in this.
With little of note to scrawl about the back stretches of the first period were
soon upon us. We needed a goal or perhaps a streaking Ena Sharples
look-a-like - yes things were getting that desperate for we eager
on-lookers. During the last industrious minutes 74 strained harder than a
constipated cow suffering from rectal tautness, The Road buzzed about like
highly excited midgies around the said anal area - alas dynamic droppings of
untold success were not delivered and too many times the guests were caught
offside or in too much of a rush to cultivate some triumphant crapulence.
Green push after green push came, the odd promising fart was all we got and at
the break we were left with our hooters raised sniffing the ambigious aroma of
'what might have been'.
We stayed put for the break, I had a quick piddle through a nearby fence and
nearly lost my John Thomas to a pecker-eating Night Owl thus proving what good
eye-sight these creatures are blessed with. I tucked up quickly, was
happy to see there were no Teste-Devouring Dingbats about and made my way back
to my seating position with tackle intact.
The second half began with the guests attacking from the off. A corner
and plenty of pressure soon came but The Road remained impermeable and looked
to pick up the odd stray scrap. The game remained a touch and go affair,
Northwich had a corner after much midfield mither. The ball was played
short, hammered in and Tinning put his effort wide. Now one could feel a
certain thumbscrew of desire being turned and a new intense steam arising from
the brows of the travelling army. No 11 (Harry Cain) had a punt at goal
soon after, the home keeper left it until the last minute before falling to his
left and pushing the ball behind. The corner produced sour FA but there
was a goal on the cards and it seemed it was only going one way.
The animation and overall spaciousness of game took on a different aspect with Maine Road very much playing the role of
'hanger's on'. The home No 4 (David Brown) was the next to feel the heat
after being forced to concede a corner due to much harassment from 74's No 9
(Scott McGowan). The ball from the angle was hammered in, No 5 (Mark
Jones) connected with his belfry but a deflection saw the pace taken out of the
flight and the keeper gather with relative ease. Urgency now took on a
'blue-light' level, we stayed on a razor's edge, for all of 74's heave-ho, one
break and the sucker punch could easily be delivered.
Eventually a breakthrough came, borne from a 74 corner that was twatted in
without finesse that found the reliable foot of McGowan who slapped home in his
usual predatory style. The goal had been coming, it was now up to the
trailing team to dig mighty deep and see what they could summon up. Alas
soon after and Road's No 3 (Paul Earlam) was liberated of the globe with
McGowan playing the role of pesky thief. A pass followed, Parker
gratefully accepted and belted the ball home to double his team's lead - by
heck, now this was more like it!
Propelled into the last section of the game and all hope looked to have pissed
off over the hill and given a two-fingered salute to the home team but from
nowhere Campbell battled and somehow bumbled the ball to No 8 (Ben Mooney) who
had a first time shot that was mighty close indeed. It was a ray of
promise, was there still life in the rather battered cur yet? As The Road
tried to push once more the visiting No 2 (Samuel Hind) gathered and played a
superb ball that McGowan chased. Another defensive mix-up followed,
Parker ended up in possession and without further ado fired home and kicked the
living daylights out of the game as a contest. 0 - 3 it was, the exact
scoreline my fellow on-looker had predicted. I had been more bold and
gone for 0 - 4 - it was looking like one of us was going to take on the mantle
of Mr Predictor 2020. 74 continued to push, The Road defended for all
they were worth, much to John's utter appreciation. Suddenly we had mere
seconds left, 1874 pushed one last time, a ball forth saw No 14 (Taylor
Kennerley) collect and have a pop - kaboom - 0 - 4 it was and when the whistle
went soon after I was seen to strut off wearing my prophesying crown and waving
to many adoring fans (I do get carried away). I saw John D storm off and
accost the referee claiming the goal was offside - ooh the bitter bugger.
From my throne of self-satisfaction I chose a Man of the Match, it was 1874
Northwich's No 11 (Harry Cain) for being a relentless dynamo and a
persistent crumb in the underpants of Maine Road. The lad put in his all, was
instrumental in causing much mither and deserved to be substituted late on
after putting in some shift - It was worthy of a nod of appreciation.
FINAL THOUGHTS - I expected this to be hard work for Maine Road and indeed it was. It was a
shame but the boys in blue can be far from ashamed of what they did tonight
with the work rate and sheer discipline a lesson for many teams to learn
from. The team were up against a very good side indeed, a side on a
severe roll and looking to win the Premiership and bag the Macron Cup along the
way - only a fool would bet against the double. Nevertheless, the hosts
kept things all square up until the 72nd minute and, with a bit of luck, may
have pinched the opening goal and really put the pussy amid the flapping things.
Yes, there were many positives tonight and I expect the team to rebound
immediately and make their next opponents pay - ooh heck, Abbey Hulton United
be warned. And to 1874 Northwich, well what can one say? Promotion
has been a long time coming but this season off they will go into pastures new
for an adventure they are more than capable of dealing with. Alongside
the pending promotion they can add cream to the cake with another Macron Cup
win and that would be fully deserved for a team who play good football, have a
sincere belief in what they do and have a sound following who really do get
behind their team. I attended last year's Macron Cup Final and reckon I
will be doing so again, what price 1874 lifting the cup - I am sure the odds will
be shorter than Ronnie Corbett's sexual appendage and as certain as Donald
Trump being diagnosed as suffering from cretinism - place your bets please!
No comments:
Post a Comment