WASH-OUT

19th October 2020 - Stockport Town 1 v 0 Cammell Laird 1907 - A long fungalised walk was had the day before this game, we wandered 8 miles, clocked up many species and came home fagged out with a bundle of fungal specimens for microscope work.  I had booked three days off work and day one was spent looking at micro-intricacies and getting the myco-list up to 132 species.  This straining of the cranial juices had somehow twanged a cerebral wire and I ended up suffering from that rare disease known as 'Abstract Tourettes' (shit, twat, wank) - see what I mean.  I apologise if the following football report is invaded with such abnormalities (frog nobs) but at least I am still scribbling and trying to make the best of matters.  I arrived at the ground in good time, nattered with STP Stu and Gareth and Sandra Evans with only myself opting for an home win.  Just prior to kick off the weather started to turn (rubber nipples and arsecracks) and I was hoping the football could be a little more warming - it turned out I was a foolish imp hoping for the impossible.

The game began (tortoise turds), the action was tame and both teams looked to be snuffing one another out with the guests obviously coming with the game plan of 'soak and spring'.  A few lively tackles brought great uproar from both benches, in truth, there was nothing malicious to be seen.  The Town made most of the early running with the Laird happy to absorb.  The host's problem was the lack on inventiveness up front and that decisiveness when faced with a possible chance to have a pop.  Matters were not helped when the resident No 9 (Aaron Knight) limped off and the rain began to tumble with more urgency. 

Halfway through the first half and little was happening to speak of leaving me to consider sitting by the fireside, sipping tea and watching a re-run of Hawaii Five-O (Fuck em' Danno).   At last a shot on target came as the home No 2 (Chiek Thiam) propelled himself forth with great desire and let fly from a fair range.  The ball stayed at an adequate height for the keeper to make a good one-handed save which led to a corner.  The angled kick brought no further excitement and the game progressed to the break in a purely flatline and quite numbing manner (pubic piss-ants).  The guests seemed happier with the situation, they were utterly disciplined and suffocation their opponents ambition - the problem was, many on the sideline were becoming bored shitless.

The rain abated, we onlookers stood firm and hoped for a ray of sunshine - if not, the magic mushrooms I had recently found would have to suffice.

The second period came, The Town had a free-kick, it produced bugger all as did a corner and another 2 gratis-boots - what a crock this game was.  Eventually Thiam for the hosts produced a spark with a great run that earned his side another kick from the angle.  The ball was delivered, the guests were solid, No 9 (Luke Blondel) was at the apical part of a break, No 6 (Leighton Egan) was at the back and produced a quite exceptional tackle to quell the threat.  From the corner the ball was nutted out and boomed back, alas the shot flew with pace right over the crossbar.

Next action (by heck this was getting too much), Cammell Laird gained possession from nothing, No 12 (Jay Thomas) let rip a 35 yard howitzer that sizzled through the air and headed to the top corner.  The save by the home No 1 (Morgan Piper) was outrageously top class, what a great moment, a veritable explosion in a desert.  From here The Town tried to move up a gear, No 8 (Shakeel Jones-Griffiths) was tumbled on the edge of the box but the free-kick by No 12 (Rourke Neal) was disappointing (fart potatoes).  

The final stages of a quite indigestible game came, Laird had a corner delivered but was headed wide and then a last gasp flourish saw Stockport's Jones-Griffiths shoot on the turn, the keeper block and in-box havoc ensue.  In the midst of the mayhem a shout rent the air, pleading for a penalty - it seemed an infringement had occurred and the eagle-eyed referee had witnessed it.  A Cammell Laird player was sent walking, it was the last minute and No 15 (Max Dickov) shouldered the responsibility to bury the ball and bag three points.  The ball was placed and stroked home with aplomb - it turned out to be the last action and at 1 - 0 we finished the night's events (buttocks, bollocks and boiled eggs).  Man of the Match goes to Cammell Laird's No 5 (Callum Hulmston) who may have ended up in the showers earlier than expected but who I thought gave a cracking performance at the back, helped hold the ranks in position and who really worked up a good lather - I hope this mention is of some consolation.

FINAL THOUGHT - I am always upbeat about footy (conkers, toenails and botty thrush) but tonight there was little to be positive about.  Shitty weather, two teams blanking each other out and little in the way of chances.  My mate Gareth said there were only 4 real shots on goal - I reckon he could be in danger of exaggeration there.  Cammell Laird, to give them credit, came to stifle and stifle they did and on one or two occasions nearly pinched a victory.  The late penalty blow against them wasn't deserved but if you indulge in these tactics then you play with fire - lesson learned tonight I hope (sizzle, todge, ouch).  Stockport Town continued from where they left off last time I watched them and severely underwhelm.  Their play is quick, smooth and sharp at times but when it comes to carrying out the final assassination they just seem to be lacking and always in a state of utter indecision.  There will come a game when they will brush aside a team with a bundle of goals but if they continue to play like this then it will be a long old season that may get on one or two peoples tits.  I will be back come the next Monday night fixture - I hope I attend and return home in a more stable mental condition (belch, fanny, mallard shit)!