CONTINUATION

3rd December 2022 - Maine Road FC 3 v 4 Stockport Georgians - The year has been hectic, I have had no real time to do a flourish of match reports due to being immersed in many other areas.  The gigs are done for the year, it has been a joy of DIY wonder kicking against the pricks, the walks I lead are finished, it has been a very successful campaign albeit against the growing swathes of pluckers and fuckers.  Now, the winter months are here, the back and hips have gone twang, family needs are taking time and with work and the continued DIY and natural duties I am on the back arthritic foot.  People have been dropping like flies, the masses have got over the Covid fiasco and shown that the majority are primarily senseless and incapable of learning any lesson and making a difference to the future.  Babies continue to drop from fannies like coins from a broken slot machine arcade, buildings fly up quicker than a flock of Woodcock with their arses on fire and the Governmental corruption continues whilst commercial and media ventures consume all sense of liberation and individuality.  As a result all I can do is piss in the wind, defy and do what I do - this match report is squeezed from a flustered sphincter (I can shit in the wind if I want to) and I hope reeks of good passion and fine intent.  

After a morn stretching the back, having a walk with the missus and a work-out on the punchbag a fine dinner was consumed before I was dropped off at the ground whilst my missus went and did her mum's shopping and welcomed her home from a long stay in hospital.  My good mate STP Stu was in attendance and the jaws wagged whilst hot liquid was dropped into the belly in the hope of staving off any chill.  Little did Stu know but I was wearing my recently acquired Jacob Rees Mog underpants - they lack any transparency and can hold a huge amount of shit (just like the blue-stained man himself).

And so, at 3pm and with arses parked (shit warmed in my case - ooh heck), the globe got rolling as did the ball on the end of my pen. 

No sooner had the bag of wind been hoofed than Maine Road broke with a choice ball threaded to No 11 (Joshua Clegg) on the flank who posted a low ball into the box with No 10 (Joseph Keyworth) there to bury.  The contact came, gasps came from the excited onlookers, the end result was a close miss.  The game eventually settled after much enthusiastic huffing and puffing.  The Road played with their usual overly zealous gusto, the Georgians prodded and poked with patience.  The hosts put together the next attack, No 9 (Yousif Yousif) displayed good muscle and desire but the end shot that came was a poor pea-roller that failed to test the mittman. A gratis boot was given to the hosts next, No 6 (Jamie Roe) delivered, the keeper collected with ease.  The home team came again, No 2 (Jake Pogson) put in a fine cross, Keyworth was there but was denied at the death - these missed opportunities were destined to become haunting memories for sure.

Next up and a Road corner came  which the guest keeper knuckled clear.  A break ensued, a sugar sweet pass found the galloping No 7 (Kyle Wych) who duly chased whilst the home keeper left his line to deal with matters.  The No 1 (Peter Monteith) got to the globe first, made a complete hash of matters allowing the wannabe goal getter to take possession of the orb and face an open goal.  One look was taken, the ball was stroked home - 0 - 1 - the hosts looked dumb-founded and the keeper looked rather pissed off with himself - a lesson learnt I hope!

The game now became a little more physical, the blue clad ranks pushed with No 8 (Abdi Addow) having a healthy dart into the box that ended in a tumbling.  A penalty was awarded, No 5 (Louis Edwards) had to wait whilst disputes were rained upon the ref, a test of one's temperament for sure. Eventually the ball was struck and on its way to the back of the net, audibly scraping the goalies fingers before rippling the meshing. 1 - 1 - game back on.

Much energy was burnt up over the following period with both teams looking to get the upper hand. Suddenly the Georgians swooped from a situation of stress.  The hosts backed off, a shot came, a touch on from No 9 (Jack Woolley) was made, the score was now 1 - 2 and the break was beckoning.

Before the interval the visiting tribe remained on top, No 10 (Oliver McFadyen)) had a punt that flew way over the bar and before the peep of the whistle a final guest free-kick produced bugger all - we scarpered to get a brew, the MR machine needed warming up too.

A queue, a brew, a slash and a dash.  The usual perches were taken, the game continued with great promise.

From the off it was imperative the home lads made a bold impression, alas it was not to be as the Georgians No 6 (Thomas Russell) collected from distance, saw the keeper off his line and sent forth a delectable chip.  As the ball pinged off the upright and nestled in the onion bag the grabber of the goal raised an arm and looked mighty pleased with himself, and so he should, it was a delectable strike.

The Road, now up against the wall, strove to find some inkling of salvation.  After much sweat was spilled a free-kick was wasted and then another one entered the danger zone, missed all players and a defender was caught on the hop and became the victim of an own goal.  A bonus gift for the resident pack, but no sooner had the minute hand done three rotations of the clock, the Stockport team was back in possession of a 2 goal cushion when an attack saw a shot blocked and a follow-up rattled home by the awaiting Wych.  It was a case of 'never concede immediately after a goal' a sacred rule broken many times over the long campaign.

Hectic times came and went as The Road struggled to make any serious headway.  The Georgians sat and sprang with a superb ball allowing McFadyen to charge away.  A cross followed, No 8 (Callum Campbell) was in but sent the globe just wide, could that be a turning point? A drop ball came at the other end (for who knows what)?  A cross followed, a semi-clearance made before Yousif pounced, propelled and reduced the deficit to 1 goal, ruddy heck, this could be a last blast thriller?

As I reached for my double-dose nerve tablets a shout came for a Georgians penalty which the referee firmly ignored.  Time whittled away and the hosts didn't help their case with several slack passes.  The resident Clegg still looked to be a potential threat with several crosses delivered but just lacking an assassin's touch.  The dog ends of the game came, Woolley had a pop wide, his opposite number Yousif tried to place a shot that the keeper watched all the way and coolly collected.  As many chilled souls awaited the final whistle the referee dillied and dallied and dealt with some pointless argy-bargy.  With many touchline conkers trembling and many nipples doing a good impression of ruddy wine corks the game was eventually halted, the score-line seemed fair but I couldn't help feeling that the hosts had made this one a little too easy for the travellers. Man of the match goes to the Stockport Georgians No 10 (Oliver McFadyen) - I like the effort, the problems he poses and the persistent willingness to call for the ball when in located space - he is an integral part of a successful squad - nifty!

Big thanks to Stu and his good lady for the lift home after the match, it was much needed after my missus had decided to stay with her mum who had nearly taken a couple of tumbles - what a worry it is!

FINAL THOUGHTS - if you want a dose of good Non-League Football I would always recommend a visit to Brantingham Road. There you will be served a choice dish of honest football whilst excitement, frustration and disbelief are the chosen condiments on offer.  Today the gravy of success was tainted but the joy is in the playing and sticking to the ethical recipe. I will be filling my gut again very soon.

The Georgians are no mugs, they came and played their usual effective game, they don't seem to be anything more than a well-drilled machine with all components working as a group - what else is needed?  They don't get flustered and seem to ooze consistency, in what I deem to be a rather weak league this time around, promotion at the first time of asking, could be theirs.

Maine Road, well what can I say.  They are a real fave team of mine playing at a ground myself, and all who I talk to, have a soft spot for.   I would love to see this lot get back in the premier league but they always leave me befuddled and flabbergasted.  At the moment they are just lacking depth, they need an extra 3 or 4 players to call upon and a real marksman who will not waste the chances they so readily make.  The players gave it their all today, they stuck to their guns and if the two early chances would have been buried the end result could have been oh so different.  Football is all about the 'ifs' though, as is life itself - for example - if I hadn't eaten all those sausages over the years would I be two stone lighter?  If I hadn't stuck my penis in the plug socket when I was a wee nipper would I now be the proud owner of a 'proper pecker'?  Who knows, who cares, with my multi-purpose, off kilter John Thomas I wander on, pissing this way, that way, every way I can and all done with splashing passion. Golden shower anyone?