29th March 2022 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 2 v 3 Congleton Town - The palpitations are niggling me, the ticker is playing silly buggers and I am having attacks of the vapours (well, that's what Mrs Teacake used to say). Having recently spent a testing time in A&E, an ECG, blood tests and general heart check all came back showing no blips or any cause for concern. To get my monies worth I asked them to give my pecker the once over and check my prostrate - despite a U-bend in the aforementioned sexual piping all is well. A chat with the doctor eventually ended up debating the plight of Cheadle Heath Nomads this year and the stethoscope wielding quack indicated the palpitations could be linked to too much touchline excitement. I informed the medicine man that the way The Nomads are performing this time around is hardly helping the fluttering strawberry - he saw my point.
And so, after 4 weeks of pinging and awaiting further explorations into the internal upset I have decided to pen another footy report and reveal a few insights into this great and absorbing game. I arrived in good time and met the usual faces, it was good to see the Nomads chairman looking upbeat after his recent court appearance for lewd transvestism. George Gibbons (known at the weekend as Gloria Gibbons) is an unashamed cross-dresser and eases much footballing tension by having a few nights a week on the razzle dressed as a woman. This is all well and good but a recent trip saw Gloria involved in fracas with the law after trying to steal a Fray Bentos pie from a late-nite convenience store. Of course, Gloria had had a few sherberts and fancied a quick snack but the police were unimpressed and when Gloria tried to kiss the Chief Inspector the bracelets were clamped around the wrists of the deviant and to the local clink he/she was escorted. Rumour has it the outcome was a £50 fine for theft, £75 fine for being armed to commit robbery (a can opener in the peephole bra) and £30 for wearing crotchless knickers back to front - that must be the most expensive pie in history. Anyway, enough of these nerve-shattering insights, let us crack on with the game at hand.
At 7.45pm I was on the touchline along with the good folk that are Gareth and Sandra Evans (who look after the turnstile and wash Ms Gibbons weekend wear). The game began with the climate almost ideal with the first team to gather any momentum being the guests after The Nomads lost possession and a break away came. A sugar-sweet ball was dealt with No 11 (Arron Johns) outsprinting two desperate defenders and letting fly with a shot that took a slight deflection and dropped into the far side of the onion bag - now where the hell did that come from?
Within seconds of this opening shocker the Congo crew were marauding forth again with the hosts looking frightfully unsettled. Thankfully the resident team were saved by an offside decision and from here made some headway into the game. No 10 (Kyle Foley) was buzzing about like a wasp on steroids and the rest of the team had an urgency that was surely going to pay dividends.
After much bluster No 6 (Joshua Tinker) had a pop that was deflected just shy of the mark with the corner producing nowt to write home about. The game however was a captivating contest with both teams working up a good arse-lather. As the home team earned their crust, from a midfield mush a ball was suddenly released and No 9 (Daniel McLaughlin) was free and only had the keeper to beat. Like a well-seasoned pro the ball was controlled and slotted home to bring parity back to the game and make this a cup contest to savour.
The high tempo of the game continued with the Nomadic pack now shading matters but with several moments of pissing about with the ball at the back always giving the Congo boys hope and a glimpse at a certain vulnerability. Some good pressure was maintained though with a couple of corners had, the latter finalised by a poor shot from Foley. Congo responded with a liquid move of orb-snagging pace that opened up the opposing defence like a tin of sexed-up pilchards. The apical component to the foray forth was No 10 (Jordan Johnson) whose shot straight at the keeper was more than disappointing.
Towards the arse end of the half Congo continued to force the issue with numerous crosses peppering the zone of peril. The hosts remained resolute and after one minor scare the half ended all square.
For the break I stayed put, breathed deeply and tried to calm the palpitating heart. I pondered things tranquil - sunny flower strewn meadows, acid hazed days in dens of iniquity and fluffy pillow switch offs due to excess glue-sniffing - it all seemed to work until my eye spied the aforementioned Gloria Gibbons doing a lap of the pitch on a rusty Penny Farthing. The sight was a mockery of womanhood, a ghastly horror show to curdle the cranial gunk, and why the fuck was this abomination wearing crotchless knickers? My heart was left racing with disgust. Thankfully the cycling psycho was taken away by some brave officials, the teams came back out and this was what transpired.
A swift start to period two brought an early free-kick for the away team but the execution was ruddy shite to say the least. The Nomads soon upped the ante and worked with good fizz. A ball was placed out wide, No 7 (Daniel Byrnes) collected and posted into the box with both pace and accuracy. Foley came flying in like a fart flung from an elastic anus, the contact with the ball was sound - 2-1 it was - what a fine goal.
Congo now reacted, a long ball found No 9 (Thomas Pope) who chested down and cracked forth - the outcome was only a corner that was wasted, retrieved and redelivered by No 7 (Oliver Putnam) with great panic ensuing and the Nomad's surviving by the skin of their private bits. Soon after Putnam was provider again, this time No 4 (Richard Booth) was the recipient but could only lash into the sable beyond in reckless fashion.
To the next animation and The Nomads rallied, No 11 (Kieran Alley) was a menace incarnate, a cross was blocked but immediately reposted with a wild clearance over the bar the outcome. The corner was cleared. No 14 (Charlie Mulgrew) gained controlled, put a neat ball to No 4 (Kieron O'Connell) who had an unexpected pop across goal that ended mere inches wide of the far timber. This was now a very entertaining bout of ball-booming action with Congo counterpunching and Pope at the apex having a good effort beautifully saved by a well-stretched keeper. After a failure to capitalise on the momentum the travelling pack were soon on the back foot as Foley fed Mulgrew and then screamed for a return pass. The player in possession however ignored the pleas and chanced his shank with the ball rising over the keeper and twatting the horizontal - unlucky fella.
A bout of pseudo argy-bargy saw handbags lose sequins and frilly knickers get in many knots before play resumed. Tension rose, the guests were getting anxious but a Nomadic error came and miscommunication allowed Putnam to weasel in and put the ball into the net for a very crucial equaliser. Now this was getting tasty.
Disgust and disbelief swept through the home supporting ranks, elevated hope brought raised hollers from the visiting onlookers, the time trickled on regardless - it was a case of 'next goal wins'. The Cheadle Chaps advanced with No 16 (Max Lewens) surging and providing a cross of teasing proportions that needed a lengthy shank to connect with and send the globe home. The clock ticked on, penalties loomed until... Johns of Congo had a shot that the home No 1(Dimeji Wilan) saved with elegant skill. A corner came, another blockage, the ball was soon back in the box and a bagatelle of madness ensued. Ping, pong, ping - and then... the ball was in the net and the Congleton contingency were ecstatic. Moments later the victory was confirmed, Cheadle Heath Nomads had committed Harikiri (again). Man of the Match however goes to the home No 3 (Jack Taylor) - I thought his stint was composed, rock steady and a crucial bedrock on which the rest of the team could rely. Here's to plenty more performances like this.
FINAL THOUGHT - Congleton came as favourites tonight, were matched in every area of the park, and somehow scraped through into the next round. The Bears were dipped in honey tonight, they stuck to an arduous task and when on the back paw still worked away and never lost their belief. They nearly got stung but fortune favours the fighters and somehow, they pilfered the victory tonight and I do hope they go all the way in this competition. It is always a pleasure to visit their ground of course, the chips they sell are still unsurpassed. Cheadle Heath Nomads are now appointed Masters of the Unpredictable - one game they are on fire, the next smouldering like pissed on ashes. One minute they are dashing to victory, the next they are falling to unexpected defeat - a gambling man would be crippled if he were placing wagers on this team, in facts he would be starkers and destitute and in need of psychiatric help - I think he would need to get in the queue with Ms Gibbons - God bless the doctor who deals with these matters.
