THAT'S MOORE LIKE IT

27th February 2022 - Moore Utd 2 v 1 Maine Road Reserves - It seems the world is on the brink of the apocalypse, and yet no matter what, too many folks are marching into Hell with their heads screwed on backwards and not prepared to do a damn thing for the planet.  It makes me puke!  The morn was spent recording nature at a local park near to the ground, with a little effort a few species go on the map and conservation efforts can be done with a little more knowledge - in truth it is pissing in the wind.  Talking of pissing in the wind, why would anyone in their right mind do a football report for a game with only 16 folk in attendance?  Why would anyone stand around in a chill and scribble away and try and put something back?  Well, the option of doing fuck all is no option at all and as a DIY doofer I am happy to pitch in and try and do something for the game at level 'real'.  This is where it matters, down in the soccer cellar where it is one constant struggle to just keep things ticking over without any hope of any big time success.  This is bread and butter booting and I fuckin' love it.  Like my nature jaunts and the music I promote, it is all about getting back to zero and seeing things unaffected and unmolested by greed and kudos.

And so, we arrived at the club early, had a brew, conducted our pootling, returned and had a chat with Maine Road Reserve Coach Darren Jones, a fine amiable chap, trying to do something positive and eager to get his arse in gear.  After the jaw wag me and the missus sat in a bowling hut and had a bite to eat before having a natter with the day's referee - another nice bloke helping keep this game moving.  Eventually the players were out, the few in attendance were in position and we were pitchside with the grandad of The Roads No 10 (Joshua Clegg) - and good company he was.

The game began on the stroke of 2pm, a mere 30 seconds had passed before Moore United attacked down the flank with No 11 (James Sowerby) delivering a choice cross that No 7 (Dylan Glass) connected with and fluffed but duly jabbed home at the second time of asking.  Was this the quickest goal in Cheshire League history?  If so, will the ghosts of Ross and Norris McWhirter be summoned to verify this claim and would the spirit of Roy Castle do a tap-dance in celebration?  Either way - Maine Road reserves looked as though they couldn't give a toss and weren't impressed by this early kick up the arse.

Moore continued to be the more animated pack and repeatedly advanced with notable purpose.  A gratis hoofing was earned, No 10 (Tom Smith) posted onto the cranium of No 9 (Kane Hackett) who disappointingly nutted the globe over the timber.  The hosts came again, Hackett put in a troublesome cross that saw the Maine Road defence get their knickers in a twist and snap a few elastics.  Somehow the trailing teams gonads of fear were tucked in and the danger was dealt with.

Maine Road eventually found their feet on the uneven and adhesive surface.  Clegg was on the end of an overhit free-kick and duly darted and won a corner.  The angled punt was caught by the wind and looked to be curling into the far corner of the meshing but the inside of the post was unkind and the ball bounced to safety.  Moore broke with rapid pace, a cross came and two wannabe assassins flew in to make that all-important killer contact - the final touch never came.

Again the resident ranks poured forth with No 8 (Jordan Rudge) and Glass linking up with the former player having a pop that had a trifle too much elevation. Maine Road, in return, put together a sweet passing move that ended in a free-kick decision.  The attempt on goal from a standing ball was ruddy poor and punishment was duly issued as Moore attacked and wellied the ball from one side of the pitch to the other.  A cross came. Hackett launched himself like a pseudo Bob Latchford and executed a flying header to double the lead - the guests looked gutted.

The game entered the final third of the first period.  More assaults on the MR goal came with headers and shots dealt with but all sending a strong message that the home team were hungry for more.  No 2 (Chris Slater) came close but had a brace of efforts blocked and Road in return had a weak penalty shout after No 11 (Joesef Aloush) went down like a poleaxed piss-pot and Clegg had a pop on goal, but the unforgiving pitch saw the ball bobble and end up flying into the now bracing air.

Half done, we headed back to the hut beside the bowling green and had a warm drink and a choccy bar.  A sit out of the wind with my best mate was grand and by heck the Bounty Bar was smashing.  

Back out for the second half we went to witness Maine Road playing a perilous passing game at the back and not showing any urgency to advance.  Possession was eventually lost, Rudge supplied Hackett who sent the ball into the box where Glass was denied on the line.  A corner ensued and Hackett connected with his noggin but sent the ball wide.  Maine Road were like Naughty Norman Price in a memorable episode of Fireman Sam (no, not the one where he got bummed) and were playing with fire.  

The hosts sensed another goal was about to be gained but the closest they came was when No 6 (Jack Lawrence) had a long range drive just bend away from the target zone.  The blue clad team tried to up the ante but were lacking composure and an all round sharpness. Too many times they lost 50/50 balls and a lack of off the ball work was costing them dear.  

Another corner came for Moore with the guest keeper doing well to punch and then hold the follow-up shot.  The Road kept huffing and puffing with No 12 (Zach Curtis) having a pop wide and then another shot that brought the home keeper into his first bit of action of the day.  The save was regular - nothing more, nothing less.

The game bundled on, from a midfield mire one of the red clad residents was released and had only the keeper to negotiate.  The attacker's first touch was shabby, the mitted man collected the ball with great relief.  A corner the same way came soon after, an ambitious gent tried to execute a hopeful overhead with the result a punt off target and a ruptured scrotum.  Some route one football followed with the Moore keeper booting long and Rudge chasing and looking destined to score from 5 yards out.  Inexplicably the post was struck and I am still wondering how he missed it!

With time running out the scoreline looked settled but on the 90th minute Clegg for Maine Road was in possession out wide, sent in a teasing cross that No 8 (Sam Barnett) bumbled into the net.  2 - 1 and thoughts of a comeback were on, but banished seconds later when the full-time whistle blew.  I think the deserved side won and their No 8 (Jordan Rudge) a good choice for Man of the Match.  A brilliant work ethic, some all round effective movement and a willingness to get stuck in all over the park - a choice stint.

FINAL THOUGHT - a ragged match on a testing playing surface with both teams at the bottom end of the league and looking to build some late season impetus.  Maine Road were disorganised and out of sync today and looked like a team in need of some serious attention.  Commitment to loose balls was lacking, not enough verbals left players in possession not knowing what to do next and a willingness to run off the ball for the full 90 minutes wasn't there. On the plus side, there were many players on show capable of skilful touches and appearing to have the ability to up their game and their sides fortunes - here's hoping.  Moore Utd wanted this and worked hard from the off.  The desire got them through a tricky fixture that was lacking in general flair and delicacy of touch.  The key, when in the mire, is to just dig deep and give it 100% - I think the long ball game is an option here and when the back is up against the wall - kick big chaps, kick big. Sometimes winning ugly is the only way - just ask Quasimodo about the time he won the jackpot on Liberace's One Armed Love Bandit - ooh err!

ROBIN BUGGERS

24th February 2022 - Avro 1 v 2 Ashton United - A week of wicked weather was a good way to blow away the cobwebs and consider why Mother Nature is kicking back against a human mush of neglectful gits?  I did just that and despite already being a nature doofer have decided to try and do a bit more.  Over the last few days, despite work, I still managed to squeeze a Non-League report in and go forth and record a couple of mosses and springtails.  Neither efforts will bring any form of popularity but putting back is what we must do rather than wallow in a pit of self-complacency and apathetic inertia.  After a day off work I went out and about up at work I darted home like a ferret with a curry-dipped rectum. I spent the afternoon reviewing a few songs, microscoping a few bugs and eating chicken butties before heading out and meeting my good lady on the way home from work. We both went to get my daughter from her place of work and then I was dropped off at tonight's footballing ground whereupon I met my mate STP Stu.  It goes without saying that we put the world to rights and partook of a ruddy good brew and some fine chips from Macie's Diner.

Positions were taken and I produced my notepad.  I was a man armed and ready to vandalise paper - I was hopeful of a fine Manchester Premier Cup semi-final encounter, what I got was this:-

The game began, Avro had a couple of early pops at goal that the mittman collected without furrowing the brow. Ashton were struggling to settle as Avro beavered away with good industry.  The guests did manage to win a free-kick which was delivered with whipping accuracy, but the home team stood firm and cleared the danger.  

The game continued in a somewhat fractured and messy fashion with both teams quick to neutralise any threat although Ashton came mighty close with a curling corner posted with pace and pinging off the head of No 5 (Harry Coates) at the back post and dropping inches wide.  On matters went in broken style with very little coming in the way on nob-tingling action. Ashton tried to penetrate but Avro were tighter than a niggardly clam in a recession.

Suddenly the hosts began an assault from the mush, the attack looked to be an innocuous affair until No 9 (Louis Potts) received at the angle and twatted from range. The ball flew with fiery zeal, the keeper lunged but the sphere would not be denied access to the onion bag - 1 - 0 - by heck the game needed it.

From here Avro played with renewed vigour, Potts collected in midfield and executed a delicious curling cross ball that No 11 (Michael Afuye) collected before dashing with ardour - alas the ball escaped true control and ran into the dead zone.  A free-kick soon followed, all that came from it was a clattered keeper who bounced up and just got on with matters - well done that man.

The Ashton pack now dug deep, a late attack saw the ball enter the box, ping back out and get rifled back via the lashing hoof of No 4 (Micahel Brewster) with the crowd of players dissected and the home keeper producing a quite top notch save.  Moments later the Avro net was bulging but the goal was disallowed for who knows what?  Several more jaunts forth were made by the visiting squad before the break with No 14 (Florian Yonsian) having a wild lash fly way off target and No 2 (John Lufudu) partaking of a soaring run that ended with little in the way of threat.  The interval came next, it was a chance to stretch the legs and let the squads rethink matters.

As per, we stayed put for half-time, stood up and shook out the chill with many dashing forth for a drink and of course, a squirt.  I was happy to hold onto my thermally gratifying golden liquid and keep my lower parts a trifle warm. Stu was of the same frame of mind and clenched with devoted passion.

Half two began with a lowering of the chuffs onto cold plastic and a slight groan from the prostate glands.  Avro had a corner that the keeper punched with ease. Afuye collected the stray globe, exposed some mercurial feet and let fly a shot the keeper duly held on to.  

The game ticked on from here, Ashton Utd were showing very little in the way of creativity and were severely out-hustled by the home squad who really had the bit between their teeth. The result of these counterpunching teams was a shabby period that saw little in the way of high end action. Avro kept on niggling away with Potts nutting on from the middle of the park and No 12 (Liam Ellis) gathering and sending forth a good dig that the mitter did well to save. The game looked to be ending in a 1 - 0 home win when...

...from seemingly nowhere the away team were born again. Despite Avro going close the Ashton Army survived and started to push with some real zeal.  Suddenly, on the 90th minute the leading pack became jittery, a ball entered the box, from the defensive disarray Yonsian appeared and wasted no time firing at goal - and as if by a quirk of twisted fate - the net duly bulged.

Penalties now loomed, we were in added time. Ashton summoned one last surge with a ball threaded through, space found and No 15 (Ben Hardcastle) keeping his head and firing the ball home.  Uproar ensued from the visitors, utter disgust was emanated from the resident ranks. What the utter buggery had happened here then? Before the final whistle it could have been 3 (and confirmed my pre-match prediction) but Brewster was denied by a solid near post save.  Soon after the game was done, The Robins had been under the cosh, kept on pecking away and eventually fluttered away with the fatball of success.  Man of the Match however goes to Avro's No 11 (Michael Afuye), a man who posed constant threat, weaved this way and that with eye-snagging skill and on many occasions led his markers a merry dance - next time I hope he is on the winning team.

FINAL THOUGHT - This was far from a classic game, in fact at times I think I would have been more enthralled watching game of chess between Plumpton's champion of the board Monotone Mick Bishop and Flatline Peter Pawn of Bolton.  To be fair though both units battled away with the hosts working as a tireless pack and giving the opposing force very little room to manoeuvre.   They moved with sharp impetus and I thought defended with a concentrated focus.  They are doing well in their respective league and tonight was clear evidence of why that was.  Ashton United didn't play that well (or weren't allowed to) and really had a somewhat mundane night but yet still pilfered the end prize.  The determination to play out the full running time got them through and maybe, just maybe, their name is already written on the cup.  They got lucky tonight, the buggers stole the show, they will have to be on it next time if they want to be crowned champions - get yer tickets booked folks and good luck to em'.

SECOND HALF ST'ISLE

19th February 2022 - Stafford Town 1 v 5 FC Isle of Man - After a lengthy break I was ready to scribble a match report again and decided a new ground would be an ideal reason to put pen to paper.  An early morning trip with the missus was made to Stafford with tea and cake in the Albert Cafe on Victoria Park had and then a walk around the local shops made due to the piddling rain having put a kybosh on our nature ramblings.  We also had a lovely trip to a rare second hand book store tucked away on a business estate. Visits are by appointment, we were lucky the owner was on site.  After making a few purchases we headed to the football where warm drinks were glugged and much needed victuals consumed. It must be stated that the purchased pasty was a ruddy stunner and didn't half warm the cockles.  I did consider shoving it up my arse to keep certain other bodily parts thermally pleased but I think I chose the best option - what a beauty it was.

So, after a middling wait a good crowd took up their positions, the teams came forth and the game got underway at 1.45pm (an early start so the IOM lads can get their plane back home). No sooner had the game started than the home No 8 (Declan Arber) had received and executed a delectable turn which gave him time to feed his comrade No 9 (Matthew Pinder).  A dash was made, the visiting keeper advanced and the wannabe striker was tumbled. Penalty pleas rained down on the lugs of the central official, his failure to agree got him labelled 'useless'.  Well I suppose its better than being called a 'wanker'.

The game continued, the guests progressed with liquid precision, No 9 (Sean Doyle) was the at the apex and put in a shot that was a trifle too tame allowing the mittman to collect with ease.  Soon after the same team advanced once more with a corner void of excitement but a free-kick culminating in a looping shot by No 4 (Jack Camarda) who, once again, could only find the awaiting keeper's gloved paws. Within the twitch of a fidgets foreskin the guests came yet again. A ball entered the box, a bout of head tennis ended with No 7 (Lee Gale) sending a rasper across the face of goal with no striker in position to touch home.  The two circling Buzzards overhead seemed disappointed although a nearby Carrion Crow was in a right flap.  Seeing that he has a close relationship with The Ravens I could see why.

The game remained animated, Arber and effervescent No 7 (Nathan Scott) for The Town indulged in a lovely link-up next with the latter player posting a shot cum cross into the zone of peril but without any incoming striker found.  The Staffs pushed on but were caught by a straight forward break that saw No 11 (Daniel Simpson) race away and only have the keeper to beat.  The No 1 (Henry Smith) stood tall, kept his eye on the globe and saved with eye-catching efficiency - well done fella.

This was proving to be a good contest with Stafford Town doing well to edge matters.  Scott was an active and integral component and had the next pop at goal with the guest gloved guardian only holding at the second attempt. Again the hosts came, numerous chances to bury were on offer but mis-kicks and mis-timings were the order of the day.  The Isle of Man pack though failed to clear their lines and the so-far impressive Arber received, had a look and walloped home - a well-taken goal and a well deserved lead to say the least.

Onwards we raced, the guests had a rare sortie with the ball going many ways before Williams sent in a whistling shot that the keeper left and saw fly past his upright.  Next, and following a Staffs foray forward the IOM unit broke with electric pace via Simpson who galloped like a gopher with his gonads on on fire. The legs were a blur, the cross released was sugar sweet and found the awaiting cranium of No 9 (Sean Doyle) who nutted home to round off a brilliant counterpunch.

The dregs of the first half came, Scott for the hosts rattled away and provided a cross that saw Pinder denied at the last. Before the break the visitors forced the hosts into some last ditch defending that resulted in a corner.  The angled hoof came and was heading straight into the net but the keeper reached up on high and tipped over.  Another corner from the opposite side followed.  The ball was struck firm and long and the greying bonce on No 6 (Sean Quaye) was there to bury and turn the half on its head.  The guests had been under the cosh, but strode off the pitch for the break 1-2 in front. By heck football is a capricious game.

The wind was now whipping with spite, a queue deterred us from partaking of a brew, we stayed put and dithered and talked about the sunny days when my penis actually resembled a penis and not a shivering slug.  I normally don't feel the cold but we had been out since 9am and I was jacket-free - I does stupid very well.

Half-two and as the trembling pen was put to breeze blown paper the first action of note saw two attempts at goal by the leading back with both efforts not even close.  The game regained a certain parity with Stafford doing well to hang on in there.  In fact, it was the resident No 10 (Joshua Wilson) who had the next crack at glory with a low sizzler that zoomed past the vertical woodwork by mere inches.

The frontrunners now responded. Williams displayed meaty strength and beat off two players before cracking one wide.  Gale soon had a marauding meddle and put in a pinpoint accurate cross that Doyle  duly accepted at the back post and banged home - now that was a suckerpunch. Stafford strove to respond to this latest blow but were caught by a counter that was nulled by an offside call. The travellers came again, the ball was pilfered in midfield and Doyle was away and producing a shot that needed solid keeping attention.  The angled kick that followed saw Doyle in the mix again and contribute a flick header that was just to high to make an impression.

The game was flowing away from the grasp of the hosts with the opposing force always looking dangerous when in possession. More shots came at the Stafford goal with the lads under the cosh just managing to survive.  Stafford did summon enough spirit to win a corner that was delivered, knocked out, re-posted and finally executed by an audacious overhead kick by Arber - the outcome was closer than one expected but not close enough.

The closing stages came, the Isle of Man produced a scintillating 3-pass move that saw the end touch to goal bring out another splendid save from the man between the timber.  Shortly after though, more probing and good movement saw No 10 (Luke Murray) pick up on a clearance and slam the ball home with consummate authority.  The scoreline was now getting out of hand but the Ravens weren't done yet.  Another bout of passing, a ball in to Murray who took one touch and walloped home - that was that and soon after the referee brought the game to a close.  Stafford Town looked bewildered, the Isle of Man strode off and looked proud of a job well done.  The Man of the Match for me was Isle of Man's No 8 (Michael Williams) a solid player, a good decision maker and a crucial cog in a well-oiled machine.  If the visiting team were a scrumptious pasty then this bloke was a right fine chunk of meat (and I mean that in a non-homosexual way).

With the game done we beetled off homeward, a lovely visit to a fair ground this, we may just well return.

FINAL THOUGHTS - And so to the thoughts on the teams.  Stafford Town seemed to have had a whipping today, if one cares to take the evidence on paper as gospel - this was not the case.  They edged the first half and dug deep in the second and along the way displayed some good football and one or two quality players in their midst.  The final third of the game saw them run out of ideas and a little bit of huff and puff but they were up against a strong side who play with patience and a certain precision.  The hosts have had an average season this year but there are great foundations here on which to build - I hope they do just that.  The Isle of Man were one of my pre-season choices to be in the mix and after a slow start they are really on a strong roll and seem to be getting better.  The key to this - well, judging on today's evidence - the fact they remain calm, play to their strengths and repeatedly knock into the box choice ball after choice ball are surely a few reasons why they are doing so well. They do look an efficient machine and are hot on the tails of the leaders with a crunch match just around the corner.  If the IOM brigade can put one over on the leaders (West Didsbury and Chorlton) then the winning of the league can go right to the wire - by heck I can feel my pasty-holding hands shaking with excitement.