Under now darkened skies the two competing units walked out onto the night-dampened grass, this was the first foray into the FA Cup competition that could see some feisty underdog take a big bite of the dangling bone that is laden with life-giving brass and the eternal blessing of success - ruddy good luck to all.
So the globe began to rotate, the first unit to make any surge of note was the tangerine dream machine (well, something like that) with Liversedge using a slight height advantage up front and playing a few troublesome highballs. An early corner was gained with No 5 (John Cyrus) allowed to run into free space and put his belfry on the ball. The effort flew over the bar - the headmasters report was scrawled 'should do better'. Soon after Irlam sprung the trap and cultivated their own effort when No 9 (Connor Martin) was threaded through with a chance to trouble the keeper. The head filled with over-excited blood, the shank swung and the ball blazed wide of the mark - yes you guessed it - the headmaster was scribbling again 'ditto'.
The game now settled with the hosts trying to apply some persistent pressure and the guests biding their time and looking to burst through their opponent's busy rear guard. Soon after the satsuma clad clan (well I am trying to be descriptive here) perspired focused juices that was finalised by a good nut on from No 9 (Joe Walton) which was snaffled up by the eager No 11 (Oliver Fearon). The latter player got the head down, used good muscle to shake off his marker and release a solid shot. Unfortunately for the striker the host No 1 (Lee White) was sharp and unshaken and made a rather concrete save.
The game dashed on, with each and every second the first goal gained in value. The travellers pushed, a seemingly trouble-free throw-in nearly gave birth to a breakthrough when No 10 (Paul Walker) slipped in like a thief in the night, loaded up the peg and swung with great ardour. Once more the man between the sticks earned his crust with another choice save - we remained bare of goals.
Liversedge continued to prod and poke, akin in fact to a very aroused Jimmy Somerville with a newly acquired Elton John Blow-Up Doll (no wonder he had such a high-pitched voice). Irlam buzzed around with great industry giving visions of flies around the veritable bovine rectum - eeh it were a grand sight lad.
The last 10 minutes saw great hustle and bustle with Irlam flashing the flanks on a couple of occasions and providing some teasing crosses that just didn't get that killer touch. The half eventually ended in a blur of industry with the conveyor belt of success not producing the goods - it had been a decent first 45 minutes nonetheless.
For the break we all stayed put except for my mate Gassy who had to dash and take a leak. I think the aging process has slackened the old bladder muscles and the oriental eye no longer has the strength to retain the liquids of gold. On the other hand, he may have a fetish for stealing Non-League toilet rolls in the hope of building his own tissue-based helicopter - who knows, one thing is for sure, I need to stop pondering the inane and get my mind back on the footy. Talking of which...
Half the second began with an almost immediate free-kick. The ball was played, touched on, spun loose and up stepped Martin to slam home and bring great delight to the resident ranks both on and off the pitch. Liversedge responded at once, a cross saw the keeper reach and fumble, Cyrus was there to strike and bulge the night, the ball however had a desire to rise and over the bar it flew. The pace of the game now increased, the action went back and forth, similar in fact to the time when Roscoe Tanner played Arthur Ashe at tennis using spring loaded rackets and a highly tense rubber ball - ooh me ruddy neck muscles.
Chances came at either end, No 7 (Matthew Argent-Barnes) for Irlam caused great groans to ascend as a fine shot looked to be bang on the mark but just remained a little to elevated for its own good. The pattern of play was now set at level 50/50, circumstances were suggesting Irlam may be in for a long stint of defending - such are the hazards of being only 1 goal to the good in a cup tie. Alas this was not to be the case as the Sedge Men came on, a lofted ball came, a cross and the hosts failed to clear the danger. Fearon for the guests found the ball suddenly pinging off his crust and bulging the net - all square we were, now then, what next?
The blue-clad home 'erberts now began to find rejuvenated belief and after much labour won a free-kick. The ball was played, No 8 (Oscar Campbell) for the Shack-attack gathered, let fly a sugar sweet dew warming sizzler that cut through the pack of battling players and found the bottom corner of the onion bag - what a pure beauty and what a way to gain the lead. Soon after the game should have been signed, sealed and delivered when No 11 (Mwyia Malumo) pushed on, fed No 17 (Mark Derbyshire) who only had the keeper to beat. The ball was released, the far post missed, I saw a man dressed in black, with a mortarboard on his head and a cane in his hand, jump up and down in fury and scribble on a well-used notepad - ooh heck, someone's in trouble.
The game now entered the final throes, Liversedge ground away and a high ball was thrown into the opposing box. A knot of legs ensued, a clumsy tackle was the verdict and late drama was had as the referee pointed to the spot. Fearon took responsibility, struck the ball firmly but alas, clattered the post with his effort. The home fans roared, the visiting goalkeeper turned the air blue with savage expletives, it seemed this could be a costly miss and as it turned out, moments later, it proved to be the case. Irlam had grabbed this one, their cup fortunes just keep on rolling and the Man of the match for me was the home No 11 (Mwyia Malumo) who worked his socks off, always offered himself up as a viable option and who made several cutting runs and executed numerous accurate passed to keep the opposing pack always in a state of unrest.
Farewells were had to all, it had been a grand gathering at a decent FA Cup game and the weather had been quite perfect - match No 1 of the season done - onwards.
FINAL THOUGHT - On the balance of play tonight I thought, and so did my comrades, that Liversedge edged it, with their team looking very well-balanced and set for a decent season ahead. The front three look tidy and will cause untold problems for many a side during the coming campaign - all that is lacking is the final sharpness and a little extra communication. The team though play some good football, get on with matters and are always keen to move forward, I reckon on this evidence alone me and the missus need to pay a visit to their ground and see them on their own turf - watch this space. Silver Street is always a great place to visit, the fine welcoming folk we meet there, the general set up and the football is always of an appealing standard and for me, it is always a pleasure to support this pure Non-League set up. Tonight the team may have been up against a decent footballing squad but displayed why they are never a team to be underestimated and how they can grab the end victory come what may. The team work as a complete unit, chase every ball and when needed, hunt down the opposition in packs until danger is duly cleared. The season will be starting soon, it will be a tough one, that is for sure, but Irlam will be providing many thrills and spills along the way and I am hoping to get a good fix of the excitement during my general roamings - let's ruddy have it.
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