After a short drive we were soon at the ground and welcomed by an amiable gent on the gate. We were charged £10 each for entry an when I questioned this the guy admitted it to being only£6 but he was trying to get some money together to feed his ‘retro porn’ addiction. We paid the regular £6 but I did give him a signed photograph of my left testicle so as to keep his warped needs temporarily sated.
A pie was soon ordered, the lasses had no clue as to their content, a lucky dip it was, I was just hoping it wasn't a Sweeney Todd special as nipple gristle really plays havoc with my digestion. My good lady, as a vegetarian, played it safe and went for chips. The pie was grand, the chips equally so and the service noted as charming – we went and found our seats for the day and nailed a cryptic crossword – smashing work. And then the players entered the fray.
Game on, and with my Dickie Davies appreciation underpants on I began to scribble and consider myself a true sport reporter.
As my nib was readied I was soon forced to scribble as a glorious early chance came for Foley's No 10 (Thomas Wakefield) who accepted a ball and found himself with only the keeper to beat. A lob was attempted, I considered the end result as the ball flew way over the timber - I consigned it to the lower drawer of the filing cabinet labelled 'shite'. Foley were soon parading forth once more, No 9 (Ben Hewitt) began a meandering sortie following a throw in. I awaited a shot and it soon came - it was a weak, grass caressing effort with no direction - a bit like a down and out demon-possessed lawn mower methinks (scary things tha' knows, especially when on acid).
Sandbach worked up a good splash of sweat, a shot from No 9 (Joseph Bevan) was all they could muster though and this was off target. The hosts responded with a promise-laden move ended with No 8 (Jay Finney) galloping forth and unlucky not to find a striker on the end of his pass after a quite sterling run. In reaction to this, Sandbach advanced with No 11 (Callum Speed) eyeing up the strike zone. The player in possession was unceremoniously tumbled, the resultant free-kick hoofed by No 8 (Stanley Tatters) which resulted in a sweet passing sequence but bugger all else. A corner soon ensued, the header that followed was not even close - cripes and conkers I say. Within seconds a whipping cross came the same way, the guest No 5 (James Askey) put pate on ball mere feet away from the netting but the resident keeper stood firm and produced a cracking save.
This was a decent game despite the lack of net bulging arousals, both teams were attempting to play attacking football and my applause were duly given for the style. Foley Meir were soon ploughing forth, No 7 (Finlay Pattison) was the end component and had a pop at burying a bender - alas the ball would not obey the orders of the trotter and flew shy of the mark. The same player was involved in the action again with a good tackle-riding run that ended with a nudge on to Wakefield who could only wallop over. Hewitt for the hosts went on a gallop next, he looked like a man with the shits with the khasis in sight, The ball was loose, the keeper came and got accidently clobbered - no ill-intent was meant and the only shit spilled was from a few biased onlookers.
A few more crappy efforts came from a contest of great industry with both teams working hard but just lacking the killer creativity. Prior to the break the home No 11 (Aiden Lloyd) won a gratis hoofing after some stubborn surging, No 3 (Jake Lloyd) posted and Wakefield nutted and the guest No 1 (Andrew Jones) produced a lovely one-handed block - alas it was all irrelevant as the flag was waved for an infringement. The half ended with the visiting No 10 (Ben Greenop) putting a header wide, we were now ready for some crisps and a brew.
A brew for halftime was very much needed. The autumnal chill was sidling up the trouser leg and dithering the dumplings whilst the nipples were perking up at the icy peck of old Mother Parky. I need to get out my winter thermals methinks and get a few more T-shirts on me back. I think I'll buy a few retro ones, a comic fan 'Whizzer and Chips', a music appreciation 'Peters and Lee' and a TV based one 'Bruce Forsyth Bummed My Dad' - tha' gotta keep it balanced tha' knows.
And to half two - Sandbach came out with great urgency. A good injection of wing pace, a cross found the awaiting Alley and the first goal was bagged - what a perfect start for the away side and we eternal neutrals. The guests now had their tails up – Bevan had a low shot straight at the keeper with a corner soon after safely gathered by the same mittman. The goal kick was sent straight at a Sandbach player - the second goal looked a certainty with an open bag waiting - the shot that came was a real howler - I think Marty Feldman with his head up his arse could have done better.
Sandbach kept up the pressure, Bevan had a pop over the bar, Greenop sent in a free-kick with Bevan putting another shot inches wide. Bevan was soon powering forth again whilst being molested by several overly keen defenders. A penalty shout came and was awarded with Greenop stepping up to finalise the game once and for all. I turned to my missus and said that a miss was on the cards due to the way the game was going. Sure enough, the ball was struck and the keeper saved with little fuss.
Foley Meir took heart from this escape, put in a good period of graft and made gains in territorial coverage. The only thing lacking was a touch of up-front composure. The Meir bounded forth with great hope, the ball was lost and a counterattack saw another Sandbach player have a golden chance to sink the opposition - the target was not even found. A golden chance swapped for a golden shower methinks.
The tail end of a game that could have been a goal fest produced no further penetrations, come the final whistle we were left to ponder a decent battle with only 1 strike separating the two units. Man of the Match could have gone to quite a few players but I thought Sandbach Utd's No 9 (Joseph Bevan) had an exceptional attitude and approach, worked mighty well and failed to get ruffled when being man-handled on many occasions (he may need to do a pregnancy test). Good timing, awareness and temperament are what will always win the day and it is always noted by this Fungalised git - good work fella.
And another new ground done, we roamed homeward happy - rumour has it we shall return, get them pies sorted lasses.
FINAL THOUGHTS - A lovely day culminating in a visit to a good ground with many meritorious points. Nice lasses serving the grub, good seating area, fine views and a team trying to play decent football. Foley Meir were unlucky not to get a share of the spoils today and the only difference between the teams (for 45 minutes at least) was the finishing prowess in front of goal. If Foley Meir get their shooting boots on, make sure they gallop like mares on monkey dust for the full 90 minutes, and of course keep cool under pressure they will more than hold their own, a little bit of luck along the way would be an added bonus. Sandbach Utd I had down as one of the favourites for promotion. Chatting with a few folk has shown that the team has lost a few players and is still looking to regain true balance. I saw enough today though to realise they are not that far off the mark. The fact that they were so wasteful today points to obvious failings but they play some neat football at times and with an abundance of good pace.
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