22nd February 2020 - Sale Amateurs FC 9 v 1 Bollington FC - As per, doing for the underdogs is an in-built instinct inside the carcass of this long-term punk rock Fungalleer. It is not the way to garner popularity, not the way to win praise but for me, it is the only way to try and help those getting off their arses and doing things the real way. After finishing yesterday's match report I spent the rest of the morn tidying the kitchen and preparing for my wife to return from a shopping jaunt and informing her that we were off to watch some real raw-boned footy. I got a frown but I had my escort for the day, I am blessed with one in a million. Lunches were devoured swiftly, this was a 2pm kick-off so time was of the essence that was for sure. The drive down was done through blustery wind, I know I shouldn't have had that Turnip Pie for tea. We arrived at the ground and after being greeted by some kindly bods, having a short walk counting a few wild species, we acquired team line-ups and settled in our positions. This wasn't a day for those with any common sense or indeed for those with a desire to expose their private parts - it was definitely a witherer that was for sure. So tucked up, pen and pad at the ready and brolly at our sides (just in case) we prepared to watch the antics of some Non-League action unfold - it be madness sir, madness.
Disclaimer - just to add that during this match many faded shirts caused great confusion for the reporter and with shirts swapped in a willy-nilly fashion it seemed my task to maintain some semblance of accuracy was impossible - I apologise for any errors in advance.
After various piles of dog shit had been cleaned up from the field, a chat with the Bollington goalkeeper who had recently made a save and got canine turdage on his face the teams took to the field and got ready to roll. The early pressure came via the home team (although this was a neutral ground) with a throw in missing all heads and ending with a choice angled kick by No 7 (Danny Harwood) who brought a very good save from the guest keeper. The same team remained urgent with the yellow and black colours indicative of the buzzing bee approach. No 13 (Connor Rabbette) pushed on and won a free-kick from nothing. The outcome was bugger all but promise was blossoming early on and only moments later a throw in was won, a touch on had with 2 players left to roam and close-in on goal. No 16 (Mike Gleave) was the recipient, he had time aplenty and duly buried - game now on. Within in the flash of a hummingbird's testes Sale were advancing forth once more, with a gratis-boot won. The ball in came, it flew straight into the net - was there a touch or wasn't there - who knows but this was now 2 - 0 and Bollington looked shell-shocked.
The game raced on, the guests started to have a little more joy on the ball with a free-kick of their own earned. No 6 (Jack Worsley) stepped up and sent in a mighty fine hoofing, the keeper fumbled onto the bar and the follow-up header was put just wide. More balls came from the trailing pack, the response and effort was bang on, just more composure and movement up front was needed. Suddenly, after such great heave-ho, the attacking side lapsed, a break came with No 9 (Stjon Tyla Clement) playing the ball to Harwood who tapped home with genuine ease. Sale didn't seem to have had their appetite sated just yet, Harwood produced a cheeky flick next, Clement gathered, galloped and crossed, the visiting keeper looked mighty glad to gather.
The tide continued, a throw in saw Clement receive, cut in and consider several options. He chose to shoot, the mittman was down quicker than Freddie Mercury on a bending man's arse crack and yet the danger of any further penetration passed. From the incessant flow the Bolly Boys somehow worked up the pitch and earned a bonus kick. Worsley struck well, it was headed back whereupon the initial hoofer belted back a fine driller that the goalie did well to hold.
Down the other end we travelled, I could barely keep up. The bearded Harwood was hungry, a shot came and the keeper fumbled, Clement pounced like a pigeon on a pie (mmm pie), the man between the sticks recovered well and killed the danger. Alas the respite was temporary, The Amateurs were on a roll, Clement was released with ease, a simple pass found Harwood who bagged yet another goal - 4 - 0 it was folks, who would have reckoned on it.
Now we had a brief battling period, alas it was the team who were tearing their opponents a new rectal gap who were the ones to break. A rear guard bod for Bolly was put under the spotlight, a back pass was intercepted as the keeper was found in two minds. Clement was the pilfering invader, the 5th goal was rolled home, what can I say?
As steam rose from the nib of my pen Bollington had one last spurt. On the corner of the opposing box a clumsy tackle was forced and the reward was a spot kick. No 5 (Liam Hough) was the taker and duly tickled the ball home - was this the start of the comeback of all comebacks or was I guilty of dropping too much acid and being caught up in the realms of fantasy? Just before the break the Bolly No 13 (John Bradley) latched onto the ball just outside the box and sent in a hefty drive that wasn't far off the mark, if that would have gone in we could have had a whole new game on our hands - phew. The referee blew for half-time next, the break was very much needed.
For the break myself and Gill opened our flasks and fought off the inclement thermals. The Bollington team gathered nearby with the team talk positive and encouraging. A few players indulged in a smoke, a few stretched their shanks and tried to keep warm, they had an uphill task ahead, all they can do is give it their best!
The second half began, No 12 (Will Sawar) for Sale showed feisty keenness with an interception and tussle for the ball earning a corner kick. The ball from the angle was delivered, 'ping-pong' ensued, a cute leg flick finalised matters with the gloved guardian doing well to tip over this surprise effort. The offside holler failed to negate the excitement of this inspired footballing moment. Sale flew away again, No 8 (Andrew Petrov) was put in, the keeper was quick to leave his line and saved once more - not bad for a guy with 5 goals against his name. The same net protector was called into action soon after with a low drive neatly saved in the bottom corner and then he rode his luck when caught off his line and watched a cheeky chip from Harwood drop on the wrong side of the vertical.
Now the wind whipped up, the rain fell with zeal, we were amid a scene from The Omen, the question was, which team would be struck down next and would the referee be exposed as the Anti-Christ - he did look like a rather shifty bastard!
With great endeavour the team on the back shank strove to build a move. As foul luck would have it a ball that was attempted to go forth hit a Bolly players back and dropped to the attack-minded tootsies of Sale's Harwood who rounded the mittman and slotted home - it was the ultimate insult, now that was shit on the face. Soon after the same scorer was in at the last once more and attempted to loop the ball over the last man, it was a shame that accuracy was just lacking.
Onwards, more shots came at the Bollington goal, the scampering squad on the wrong end of a beating hung on until Harwood collected out wide, swept in a cross that Clement glanced on and into seventh Heaven the home team went. From here subs were made, some comic-cuts football had and a few hefty, but fair, tackles executed. Bolly dug deep, No 12 (Sam Bradley) had a crack at goal but the globe had too much uplift. Sale started to stroke the ball about and a few more chances came. All seemed to be heading to the finale without any further strikes until a quick spurt came, a collision in the box was had and a penalty given. No 14 (Matthew Jones) was on it - 8 - 1 it was, oh my ruddy goodness.
That looked to be that, not so, from the kick-off Rabette was in and on it. A simple run, a negotiation of the keeper, 9 - 1 and yes that was that. The last gasps saw a few half chances arise but nothing of note, the scoreline reflected a one way riot and Sale Amateurs were very much deserved of their haul. Man of the Match was close but Sale's No 18 (Dario Brown) played the captain's role perfectly, kept up the yap and organisation, kept his players informed and played with a cool authority that helped keep the defense as difficult to break down as one of Frank Lard's Indigestible Gristle Pies (the dirty old git).
Me and the missus roamed homeward, this had been a jaunt to the depths of Non-League football and we had seen some decent friendly folk do their bit, indulge in matters in a good spirit and entertain we two watchers with great gusto - we were appreciative of all that transpired.
FINAL THOUGHT - You know, several hours after this match a hefty goon known as Tyson Fury was in a thump up with the overrated winger known as Deontay Wilder but so fuckin' what! For me, watching two sets of lads and their managerial staff have a good game of footy on a pitch best described as a cow-field, enjoy themselves and doing it with good heart and many a smile is far more real and deserved of my time than watching 2 ego-riddled arseholes knock lumps out of one another. Don't get me wrong, I like a spot of boxing - Tommy Hearns, Julian Jackson, Muhammad Ali, Jack Johnson, Errol Graham and Riddick Bowe are a few of the names that get the jowls salivating but man, give me some real DIY football and I am convinced. Today Bollington got beat in resounding style but having recently lost to the same team 11 - 0 this was something of an improvement. The fact is, the lads came, had a go, were amiable and played with good banter and a smile on their faces - you can't beat that and remember, this side have only been going since the beginning of the season and are 4th in their league - that can't be bad can it. Sale Amateurs seem to just have too much in many areas today though with several players as sharp as razors and showing a continual desire even when they had the game in the bag. They try to play proper football and despite a pitch as uneven as the back of Quasimodo the players passed and moved and refused to play long and create an ugly spectacle. They are top of the league, there was evidence today to see why - now all me and the good lady need to do is see these two teams on their home patches and repeat the reporting process.
To add, thanks to the players and managers for having a natter and showing some good earthy spirit - I am a punk rock bastard, I am a lover of things real and done for the love of it - my appreciations are sincere!
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