13th October 2020 - Irlam FC 0 v 2 Winsford Utd - In a scenario where uncertainty brandishes its private parts and keeps us all on the back foot with its constant bewildering flashes I am striving to stay focused and just ruddy well crack on. So far I have waggled my own nib and scribbled several reports as well as having attended a few friendly matches too. The powers-that-be are trying hard to piss on everyone's chips but mine are still warm, hopeful and free from the splashing penis-produced 'yellow vinegar'. Of late I am in the maelstrom of much ado about something and am squeezing in as much as possible in the trying circumstances. Work was long and testing today, a mad rush when home saw tea swallowed with haste, a quick tidy up had and a rattle on the punch bag used to relieve some inner tension. The good lady arrived soon after, we were headed to New Mills tonight, the game alas was called off so we opted for Atherton which was also seen to be postponed. Irlam was the next option and STP Stu was informed of the decision. Alas this keen Non-League 'erbert was already on the train to New Mills but quick texts were sent and a pick-up arranged. So with the daughter picked up from work, Stu picked up from a nearby train station, the young offspring dropped at home we made the journey to Silver Street and still arrived in good time to natter to the local faces, have a brew and scoff some chips. The general feeling tonight was of a confident home win, all and sundry reckoned Irlam would take the 3 points and keep their season rolling the right way - as it proved, this Non-League lark is anything but predictable. Marvellous ain't it!
At 7.45pm the game got underway and it was the guests who set the early tempo with some swift passing and much alert movement. Corners came at each end of the park, one was too short, one too long, but the game continued in great haste with many galloping shanks on show. A short delay saw Irlam forced to make an early substitution and when the restart came Winsford pounced with No 11 (Jesse Dowling) out wide, posting in a flashing cross that No 10 (Charlie Weir) struck first time, albeit straight into the keeper's carcass. The guests continued to work up a good sweat, they came again, another perilous cross came and Irlam were mighty lucky to survive. Soon after Irlam found themselves winning a corner which was hoofed into the box and found the bonse of N0 5 (Ryan Ledson) at the back post. The outcome - the nutted effort went right into the keeper's hands.
As the game progressed the guests were having the best of it and forced the issue further when No 3 (Dean Clarke) went on a rhino-like charge and had a dig. The ball was deflected and went loose but the excitement was soon quelled by a waving flag on the far side of the pitch. Irlam were rattled and out of sync. They were caught dawdling in defence next, a robbery took place, No 9 (Sam Madeley) released but could only boom the ball over the crossbar.
Eventually (and not before time), the hosts caught up with the momentum, started winning more of the ball and making the odd sortie forth. A ball entered their opponents box, No 11 (Marijn Smith) popped up and poked homeward, alas the ball rolled toward goal with about as much impetus as a 2-legged Tortoise walking through a shit.
The back end of the half came. Winsford had a second wind and found themselves indulging in a swift multi-pronged attack, akin to a full on Dr Octopus onslaught in fact - tentacle-tastic. The invasion was swift, a pass accurate and a cross equally so. The result was that Madeley appeared and swept home the first goal of the night - it had been coming and Winsford were fully deserved of it. The whistle came seconds later - on the evidence so far, there would be no change to proceedings in the second half.
We stayed put for the break, we all agreed the hosts were way off form and Winsford were looking good value for a win. This was a match-up best likened to when Spiderman took on The Green Goblin and the latter criminalised 'erbert got his pumpkin bombs in a muddle and ended up damaging his emerald dongler with a misplaced razorbat - there was only going to be one winner.
The second period began, the night was still clement although a hovering helicopter fractured the sky silence and had me wondering if Nick Fury was sat in the cockpit of the flying contraption, on the look-out for any wannabe baddies up to no good and looking to begin world domination starting from Irlam and working out (note to self - the Mighty World of Marvel isn't real, keep seeing the psychiatrist). Winsford were still as sharp as the claws of Wolverine, Irlam still huffing and puffing like a chain-smoking Blob. The home lads did win a corner, the delivery was crap, it kinda summed things up so far.
Time advanced, so did Winsford with a shot coming that forced the keeper to make a tidy save. The ball was loose, confusion took charge and suddenly the next thing we all knew was that the ball was bumbled home. It had been deemed an own goal, the shit had been flung, hit the fan and the home team were now covered in it.
Now Irlam needed to react, they needed to gain a foothold and work like Trojans. Pressure came, 2 Winsford players ended up in the book but the back line would not be penetrated (fair do's I reckon, playing football with a sore arse can be problematic). The leading pack absorbed like the stomach muscles of The Incredible Hulk when doing a bit of Medicine Ball training and offered no real weak spots. An Irlam free-kick forced the keeper to punch, a United break came but was marred by a clumsy tackle - things were now becoming a trifle frayed.
As things were deemed hopeless for the resident ranks they sprung as surprise and prowled with purpose. No 7 (Max Bardsley-Rowe) was out wide, chased the ball down, beat his marker and put in a fine cross. Smith was the recipient and was there to fire into the net but could only rattle the horizontal. No 8 (Oscar Campbell) was on the follow-up, looked to bulge meshing and again trembled the bar - it was just one of those nights.
More yellow cards came, this time for the hosts. Winsford pushed on with Madeley sending a couple of headers wide and No 12 (Robert Hopley) denied at the last by a scampering keeper. As the clock ran down there was little else to report, this was a bad night's work for the hosts but by heck Winsford had deserved this one. At the end of proceedings I opted to give the Man of the Match to Winsford United's No 5 (Steven Jenyons) who was a rock in the rear, led with authority and made sure the back line stayed composed and offered the opposing force little in the way of opportunity. The job was indeed a good un'.
Homeward, tired and bewildered by what that footy lark throws up - one day I may fathom out what makes it so unpredictable, in the meantime I am just going to enjoy it.
FINAL THOUGHT - Irlam were not at the races tonight, in fact the nags had galloped along and entered the final furlong whilst our team were stuck in the bar still sticking pins in the paper and hoping to get a result. This could be a rude and welcome wake-up call for a team with much ambition and with an eye on a lofty finish or, it could be a portent of a tough season ahead - let's hope not. Some sharpness is needed up front, the team need to be on it for the full 90 minutes, let us see how they bounce back from this. Winsford came with a plan tonight, pounced from the off and never let up. Once their opponents were unbalanced they made sure the toppling continued and got the final win. They worked hard, earned things with great endeavour and showed a unity and commitment that will serve them well over the coming season. Any team that gets 3 points at Silver Street has done well, next though, I hope to see Winsford at home and see how they perform on their own turf - I pity any team that pays them a visit and thinks they are in for an easy time of it - they could very well return home with rather heavily spanked arses.
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