GRINDING

29th May 2021 - Vulcan FC 0 v 2 Denton Town  - The gears are grinding, and I am finding, that making progress of late is darn hard work. Work is busy, a certain degree of buggeredness has invaded the framework and now an upswing in heat has really tested the mettle of this eager beaver.  The morn was spent sweating like a nob obsessed pervert in a Turkish gay bar (phew, what steamy places) and doing the garden for one of the Cheadle Heath Nomad's directors, who may I add is neither gay nor Turkish but was prone to heavy sweating as he turned the pages of his newspaper whilst my good lady and myself cracked on.  It was a productive and positive morn although before setting off for the game today we needed to nip home, have a quick swill and shake off a bit of the old brow water.  No sooner had we freshened up than we set off to the game with the tyres heating up and the in-car thermals rising.  40 mins was the time of the excursion, we were glad to arrive, park the rears and have a snack and a drink.  The two teams were building up a lather, and a fellow was marking out the lines to get the game underway on time - a veritable Last Minute Larry with a waggle in his step as he pushed his paint spilling contraption.  Kick off was a few minutes late, we were joined by fellow punk peddler and football obsessive Paul Swinnerton and whilst we all committed to some gas-bagging, wiping the brow and slurping tea, I observed the game to run as thus:-

The peepers were peeled, the initial action to invade the retinal receptors saw a few early chances come from a great melee of movement and the game get halted whilst the home team changed their shirts.  It seems local fashion expert Gilbert Gussett was in attendance and the colour clash was giving him untold nervous difficulties.  I hear Mr Gussett is sponsoring the club, when a man splashes the cash, every whim must be attended to. So with an easier on the eye commencement of matters I continued my textual observations that some may deem bordering on the codswallop.  

The next action saw a Town long ball find the ever-willing No 10 (Shaq Lewys) who collected, eyed the strike zone from about 15 feet out and let fly.  The peg that was swung was overloaded with wild abandon, the ball was given it's orders to propel itself with force, preferably on target,  The said globe concurred with the command of 'oomph' but said 'fuck that' to the request of accuracy!  Vulcan now responded, a free-kick saw a belfry boom the ball but disappointingly miss the target. Soon after and No 10 (Charlie Tannant) snuck in on the blindside (wherever that is) and looked to bury.  The initial touch was awful and the chance was gone with Denton immediately responding with an attack that saw Lewys get clattered, play get waved on and No 9 (Caylem Bateson) squeeze in a shot that just rolled wide.

The game had good 'welly', both teams were looking to open the scoring with the guests coming mighty close when a liquid move of applaudable proportions ended with a thumping whizzer that rattled the underside of the horizontal.  Panic ensued, a corner was the minor award with a superb pop into the box had that allowed Number 6 (Joseph Ojo) to rise like a seal jumping for a fish and put nut on globe and grab that all important opener.  Palms came together, 'jolly good that man' was shouted by a nearby monocled gent, I concurred and added my own 'hoorah for the goal-getting fellow'.  Tis all jolly good fun tha' knows.

The Vulcanites now pressed, made ground but fell apart at the most crucial moment.  Similar in fact to the lego man who was about to indulge in a bout of 'how's your father' and duly crumbled.  Some argy bargy threatened to invade matters when Denton's No 7 (Marcello Arhin) was crudely clattered. Thankfully a few cool heads took control and those hot under the collar were wisely restrained.  A delay came and then the expected free-kick.  The postage of the globe into the box was somewhere between first and second class, the attempt at a clearance definitely fell into the latter category with a net busting shot of the former type.  We all thought it was 0-2 but the referee was seemingly blessed with the eyes of a Goshawk and had spotted an infringement and so pissed on the partying chips.

The game from here to the break got a trifle messy (which is nearly as bad as a messy trifle) and somewhat tetchy.  A Denton corner whistled through an in-box pack of players without receiving a gentle kiss home and Vulcan had a late free-kick that was best described as 'shite'.  The break was welcome.

Tea and mandible wags was the order of the interval - punk rock, football and other proper topics were discussed.  It was just good to be out, in fine company and avoiding the general tossology of the masses.  And back to the action!

The restart was done in great haste, no sooner had I prepared my optics than Denton had found the net only to be deflated by a handball decision.  A double-dump was taken on rising hopes when the ball bulged mesh soon after with Bateson left in great anguish as an offside verdict quelled any celebration.  As an onlooker, I felt that the leading team needed to get a second goal to assure victory and do it in double-quick time.  This was still a tight contest, one slip and it could still be anyone's.

The Vulcan Bombers tried mighty hard to make an explosion but the opposing force were quick to smother any potential and keep hold of their slim advantage.  A Vulcan delivery into the perilous zone eventually came, the cross was laden with quality but so was the keeper's punch and things stayed as they were.  Chances remained few and far between and we entered the closing stage wondering if there would be a late twist in the tale.  Suddenly from an innocuous position Denton pilfered the ball, a pass came and the keeper was the only man to beat. The save that followed was most assuredly of 'lifeline' content, well played that man, namely No 1 (Callum Spencer).

The clock was now racing down, where would the next goal, if any, come from?  The answer, via some route one football.  The Denton No 1 (Phillip Pole) hoofed forth, Bateson neatly touched on and No 10 Lewys was at the angle. A quick cut back, a slap home and the lead was doubled and the victory confirmed. And about time too. From much hustle and bustle the simple solution was the key.   The final gasps saw little in the way of top end action, the game ground down to the final whistle and Denton Town looked overjoyed with their 3 point prize.  Man of the Match goes to their No  6 (Joseph Ojo) - a quietly authoritative player who cracks on, mops up any potential mess and has a good physical prowess and ease on the ball to provide a much needed solidity.  

Farewells to our punk partner were had, he was off down Telford to catch another game.  We trundled home to chill, we have been busy of late don't ya know.  One thing is for sure though, Vulvan FC will be graced by our presence again, it is a very tidy set up.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Vulcan FC are a solid side just lacking a few minor ingredients to make them the complete package.  A few nippy sprinters is a must, preferably down the flanks and in and around the box.  They must be complimented on trying to play football at all times but always look to be in danger of being out-hustled if the opposing force is really up for it.  I suspect next season they are definitely a top three team but take note, predictions are not my forte.  Denton Town are on it.  They lost their first four matches of the season and yet are still knocking on the rickety door of promotion.  The team have good desire, good muscle and a fair bit of pace but for me, the discipline will be the key to any future success and if they can let their football do the talking, they are destined to be promoted, if not this time, then certainly next.  The foundations are built from the back, the rear ranks are looking more solid with each and every game, it is crucial that off-season work is carried out to hold the team's structure firm.  There is still much excitement in this Cheshire League Division One yet - hold onto your hats and tighten your thongs folks, the final few matches will provide many answers.

THE GOOD, THE BAD, THE VERY, VERY UGLY

25th May 2021 - Cheadle Heath Nomad Reserves 5 v 3 Windle Labour FC - 19.00 hours, the scene was set.  The local Nomadic posse was in town, waiting for a showdown with the travelling bandits from down St Helens way.  Rumour had it that a few gunslingers were in the vicinity - namely - Try-It Twerp, Messy Staines, Wild Bill Cock-Up, Billy The Skid (Mark) and Muffalo Bill.  It was a shame Thrutch Cassidy couldn't make it but his recent strainings down below had seen him laid up in his shack whilst being attended to by Calamitous Jane.  Hey ho - these things happen!  So the shoot-out was set, I looked on as the black-clad sheriff looked to maintain law and order. Tonight I was pen and paper free, this report is merely the recollections from the cranial gunk, hold onto your saddles folks, things could get mighty rough out in these here parts - hot darn tootin'.

The game kicked off, both sides looked to play things real smooth with the opening goal coming via the hosts after a liquid move was finalised by the marksman No 10 (Kyle Foley)!   A response was sought, things looked promising until the game was halted, a warning was given to the pink clad Windle keeper (ooh suits you sir) and an indirect free-kick was granted to the hosts in their opponent’s box.  As one can imagine, things became heated, verbals began to fly and temperaments began to melt quicker than a wax vibrator left on a sunny windowsill.  The bonus boot was taken, a touch and wallop - 2-0 it was and a touchline eruption came.  A red card was shown, men sporting bibs emblazoned with the words 'respect' seemed to be unaware of the meaning of the word and a minor merry Hell ensued.  The local preacherman's daughter ran for cover, western porn-star Clit Eastwood downed several Rye Whiskeys and Annie Chokely accidently shot off her left titty as things started to get a trifle 'stupid'.  The Nomad players were persuaded to let their opponents score a gratis goal, the man in the middle was duly labelled a 'right twat' - there was much injustice apparent.  The game needed help, I tried to wire a telegram to that nosey-do-gooder Casey Jones, apparently he was stuck out in the backwoods after a unprecedented landslide.

The game continued, both units tried to play, the thermality had lowered somewhat but the visiting bench kept up their niggling commentary.  More goals came, somehow Windle had got their noses in front with a hat-trick of strikes that were all of decent quality.  The action was interspersed with several goal-line clearances and a few quality saves from both ends. The Nomads finished the first 45 on the back foot and an explanation as to this sudden turn of events was lacking. The break came, I was expecting the local Can-Can Girls to serve up a knicker flashing treat, all I got was a glimpse of George Gibbons (Nomads Chairman) arse crack as he bent down to pick up a few quarters from the well-traversed touchline (it just didn't have the same arousing appeal).

Half two began, the game stood at 2-3!  Both packs had reloaded and looked to mow down their enemies with efficient accuracy.  The Nomads were instantly at it and from the kick-off a deliciously simplistic move saw Foley bag a hat-trick and put the end result up for grabs. A few more dubious decisions came, the gobwork aimed at the man in the middle was saucy but remained in check, one had serious concerns though if any more untoward decisions were made.

The next strike soon came, it was from the penalty spot with the Nomads No 4 (Lee Constantine) slotting home with aplomb.  The verdict looked fine and dandy - it was just as well.  We now had a period of decent battling football, credit where credit is due with the WL frontmen battling away with fair gumption and unlucky not to get the rub of the green on several occasions.  Suddenly the hosts broke, a couple of passes and Foley was there yet again to sweep home - it was now 5-3, a game with everything, even a low flying Ring Neck Parakeet shouted out in excitement.  It was a pity the local Red Indian Tribe took offence to this avian delight and the leader ‘Big Chief Rubber Ring’ nailed the noisy flutterer with a will-aimed arrow.

The final throes looked to be settled until yet more off-pitch hollering crossed a border and the referee, with a face of disgust and dejection decided to call it a day.  The straw breaking the camel’s back was a threat laden with ill-intent, just imagine if there were kids present, just imagine what the consequences could have been due to a lack of discipline - not good at all is it.  So the game was done, a potential belter abruptly full-stopped for all the wrong reasons - hey fuckin' ho.  Man of the Match, No 10 (Kyle Foley) I don't think I need explain why although mention must go to the Nomad's No 1 (Jake Gartside) who had a right confidence building game - a very positive aspect on which to sign off - hot diggity dog!

FINAL THOUGHTS - We have had over 12 months of pandemic-based piss arsing and in some quarters there has been no progress.  A chance to reflect, ponder and come forth with a more respectful and positive attitude has been lost in a majority of realms and even Non-League football is an example of this.  The referee had a shocker, but the fact is, these guys come, allow the games to go ahead and certainly don't deserve to be subjected to the trash talk on show tonight and issued with vile threats.  Football is game, nothing more, nothing less, if we can't enjoy, behave and encourage at this level then what chance the world - sadly the answer seems to be 'no chance'.  

The events of the night were a shame and the way in which matters were called to a halt were justified but still left a sour taste in the gaping gob.  The bench of Windle Labour let themselves down and got too hot under the collar and so blighted their attempts at winning an intriguing contest.  The team played some good football at times, really moved the ball about well and on one or two occasions were a stroke away from scoring a couple of very memorable goals.  Instead they went home with no points, with a few folk looking foolish and with a few regrets to suck on - not the best way to finish a night of ball hoofing.  As per, The Nomads kept their heads down, cracked on and let their triggers do the talking.  Several strikes were wonderful, the keeper made some quality stoppages and, despite having a mid-game blip and allowing the opposing team back into the mix, the squad did well to take stock and retake command - good work I reckon and always a pleasure to see.

So home I went after the game was prematurely pulled. I was baffled by the going's-on, befuddled by some people's inability to take great pleasure in watching a game unaffected by big business shittery and certainly discombobulated by the need to hurl abuse and be so ruddy embarrassing in public.  If people are so wound up in life my advice is to go and visit a local 'Wank Doctor' - learn a few new tugging techniques and then find a tee-pee, zip up the flaps and spend a week getting all the inner angst out of the system.  If one reappears with a sore nob but, with a more genial and considered approach, the job will have been a good un'.  Remember - there are people dying, homeless, starving, mentally ill, in all sorts of trouble and with no hope within a world turning to utter shit.  Football is a blessed escapism, a place to encourage, enthuse and share some great moments and quality time whilst keeping folk happy and off the dusty, depressing streets. Respect isn't just a word, it is a way of life, think fuckin' on - so sayeth Davy Fuckett - 'King of the Mild Frontier' and I for wholeheartedly concur.

And to add – from Windle Labour on Twitter – ‘The club would like to issue an apology to everyone involved in last night’s fixture including the Cheshire Football League and we will work to address the issues.  Last night was an embarrassing moment and again we offer our apologies.  It’s not something that represents our club in any way'.

This is good to read – note to self to catch em’ again soon and do them a report that does them justice.  One has gotta be honest and fair! 

BACK AND AT IT

22nd May 2021 - Denton Town 7 v 0 Newtown Athletic - And so, after a break due to the viral invasion and having been weighed down with many tasks, the time has come to pen a new football report.  The approach, after this latest rules-riddled lockdown is to pick and choose where I scribble but still do what I do in the same flowing and ad-hoc manner.  During a time when it has been proven that many need a good jab up the arse to get them moving, rather than one in the arm, I have cracked on and taken on many tasks and strove to do what I do for things I believe in.  Now, the football assessments I hope, will maintain the quality despite dipping in quantity - we shall see.

The day began with a heap of natural history tasks tackled, a quick tidy and a few tasty victuals thrown down the grub-tunnel.  My good lady dropped me off for the match as she was off to her mum's to take some shopping and see how the aged relative was doing.  I met STP Stu and we adopted hand-picked positions after brews and chips were acquired.  I decided to watch the match on one leg whereas Stu was going for the upside-down angle - from these body straining contortions I have managed the following account whereas Stu attempted to drink a warm beverage and only succeeded in burning his globes and creating a hefty neck cramp.  Note must be made that teamsheets were acquired via Denton 'Love Lips' Dave Starkey, who seemed to be doing a lot of itching down below and calling the referee a few rather uncouth names - make of that what you will.  Jimmy (the customer service guru) also from Denton joined us but refused to contort his physical framework, he claimed that his arthritic anus was giving him gyp, such are the hazards of riding a Penny Farthing to and from matches.

The game began at 1.15pm, my digits picked up a chosen writing implement (a penis pen from Blackpool of course) and started to ejaculate the inky semen across the awaiting page.  The initial action saw the Town push and probe with No 10 (Shaq Lewys) nearly sneaking an early goal but the contact made was rather limp to say the least. Newton scrambled around, earned a free-kick that saw the ball go forward, backward and then towards goal via the toes of No 8 (Marc Moorfield) who could only find the keepers middle gut.  The game continued at a middling pace, No 9 (Caylem Bateson) for The Town had an average pop that really didn't trouble the mitter and then No 11 (Liam McDowell) had a dig after a sequence of good passing but again, the gent between the uprights was there to collect.

Denton were now in control, No 4 (Phil Yuille) stroked a delicious ball to McDowell who posted a cross that Bateson pounced upon like a vulture on a dying flasher's nob.  The contact made was adequate - 1 -0 it was. Soon after this strike a corner for Denton saw No 7 (Lewis Loughman) finalise with a shot that went wide - the question on everybody's lips was did the keeper make a save?  The referee said 'no' - get on with it ya bastards.

Newton were offering little although some dithering Denton defending saw Moorfield for the guests nearly nip in and cultivate a chance - the ball however decided to quell rising hopes by rolling into the dead zone.  Next and Newton had a go at flapping at the back with Bateson allowed to have a punt that was thwarted by the outstretched peg of No 18 (Ross Kelman).  McDowell for Denton had a shot saved next and then a break came for the same squad with Lewys placing a pass for Bateson to lash and the travelling No 1 (James Artell) to neatly deal with,

The half wound down to the break in the same below par state.  2 Swifts flew over, it was the quickest action seen so far.  A couple of shots came at either end before the break, there was no penetration of any netting (unless you count a local yokel's nipple protruding through his string vest) and that was that.  This was far from a thriller.

Tea and a chinwag - 3 of us were of the opinion that an upsurge in action was needed, we didn't consult the other 3 in attendance as they looked to be enjoying 40 winks.

Half two and lo and behold, something akin to urgency was invading the game.  A free-kick to the leading pack led to a moment of panic that the Athletic lads look relieved to survive.  Denton continued to build but were falling into the trap of too many passes pissing in the broth.  Newton bounded forth, their No 10 (Lewis Davenport) was the apical component of a simplistic move and the shot released was robust enough.  The mittman however, despite having an easy day of it, remained composed and collected without fuss.

The team ahead pushed, they chomped with about as much success as a toothless hag tackling a frozen pork chop - no impression was made.  The game looked to be falling into the soporific realms of static when a Denton corner came, a shot led to a quite farcical handball decision and Newton were suddenly down to 10 men and facing a penalty.  Loughman stroked home with aplomb - a double dig for the guests and from the kick off the insult was added to when a sweeping move saw a shot for Denton saved, a follow-up bring a shout of handball and then a third attempt clatter the underside of the horizontal.  The referee concurred with the penalty hollerings, Loughman repeated his recent bout of penetrative hoofing - 3 - 0 folks, the end result was decided.

After a delay a restart came, Denton's Lewys raced forth, from a crowded angle let fly - stop press, make that a 4-goal lead.  I was struggling to keep up to speed here when suddenly the ball was once again played forth by the leading pack with No 5 (Vole McGrath) playing to Loughman and No 16 (Keith Blake) finishing matters without fuss.

The game was done as a contest, Newton Athletic tried to grab a consolation with Moorfield placing a free-kick that lacked disguise and so was easily read by the No 1 (Phil Pole).  The ball went straight down to the opposite end, Lewys was on it, again at the angle - make that a dozen folks, who would have thought it?

The nib of my pen was now glowing like the tip of an Indian man's pecker after an accident with a sack of curry powder.  I full stopped my latest observations, looked up and saw a Denton corner fall onto the head of McGrath who could only find the keeper's hands and then a sweeping move highlight some good touch play with the ball neatly placed for McGrath to amend matters and comfortably guide homeward.  The lucky 7 was struck, the referee halted the whitewash soon after - well, it keeps the goal averages up.

Farewells and a pootle home to ponder the final scoreline, by crikey, to make this sound interesting I need to summon the ghosts of Billy Shakespeare and Babs Cartland and let them spill their literary advice.  Man of the Match goes to Denton Town's No 7 (Lewis Loughman) for 2 goals, quick feet and a desire to try and create and inject some energy into a game that went too flat on too many occasions.

FINAL THOUGHT - Firstly to Newton Athletic, a team struggling, just plodding to the end of the season and no doubt just using games as run-outs and a chance to try something new.  There is no point in busting a gut or getting stressed at this stage, for me, the team just need to go out for their remaining matches, express themselves, go for a gung-ho approach and just enjoy themselves before preparing for the next campaign.  They were poor today although their goalkeeper deserves a mention after a string of decent saves and the fact is, they turned up, had a go, and refused to play dirty and start the old piss and moan malarky.  Denton Town are on it and looking for a promotional spot.  To be fair, the first half performance lacked hunger and urgency and if their opponents could have sneaked a surprise goal things may have been a little more stressful.  In the end they coasted home here but they need to go at matters full tilt for the rest of the season and get teams dead and buried before the break.  The key is too not get too obsessed with this continental passing play and be more assertive and direct.  They will certainly be in the end shake-up though, tis' a nail biter to savour with only one of three assured of a promotional spot.  I have my truss of anticipation tightened, my rectum of hope clenched, I just need to sharpen my nib and make sure the aforementioned Mr Starkey doesn't lace my pre-match brew with any love-dust - the man's sexual appetite is insatiable.