A SILVER STREAK SET FOR GOLD

23rd October 2024 - Irlam FC 5 v 0 Litherland Remyca - As a busy bastard with his genitals of productivity always spilling seeds it is ruddy difficult to impregnate each and every area of interest due to the lack of time and the aging private parts.  As I flit hither and tither and prod and poke at many passions, I find the weeks passing by, the head ending up as an eternal mush of befuddlement and the carcass struggling to keep up.  I am trying, as is my lovely lady, we operate in unison and do what we do, but how on earth had we left it so long for a return trip to one of our favored grounds? It beggars belief.

So, after a day working, an early evening exercising, recording some fungi and having a quick tea, we made the 30 minute trip to Silver Street whilst listening to a retro Fear on Four regarding a possessed woman cutting the heart out of her still living husband. I have spent 59 years immersed in horror - I ruddy love the escapism, the textual art of degenerate minds and the ghostly fantasy that keeps one... guessing.

We arrived in good time with goose-pimples aplenty and were greeted by three familiar bods in such a style that it only felt like 5 minutes since we were in attendance.  The natters and welcomes reminded me why Non-League is most precious with its greatest assets off the pitch, not on it.  With jaws wagged, and news that Warren Dodd's buttock hernia is still growing,  we took up our usual spots (with chips in hand) and watched the following game unfold.

The home team started with great earnest endeavor and more than a modicum of pace.  No 7 (Jack Mitchell) galloped and made room to pull the trigger, the shot was right into the keeper's awaiting limbs.  A corner soon followed, Mitchell was making a menace of himself again.  The ball that was posted was of a decent standard, the guests cleared but the pressure remained until an infringement pissed on the potential peril.

Litherland worked their arses off trying to get back into this but all they could muster was a rather tame shot from their huffing and puffing No 7 (Jordan Monthe).  A fortuitous corner was had but, from the ball in, a foul was borne and so we remained as per.

The guests continued to scamper around like mice in a cheese famine but Irlam were passing well and any squeaks at goal that the visitors were allowed were few and far between.  No 11 (James Hammill) had a low pop that was well-struck and heading for the bottom corner but the home No 1 (Jack Buckley) was down to save with relative ease.  Suddenly the blue clad Mitchell was away, a ball was swiftly played to No 2 (Joe Rothwell) who dug out a pop that sweetly glided into the top corner - what a golden strike indeed.

Litherland looked to respond, No 19 (whoever the fuck that was) had a crack but the ball was deflected over and from the corner a couple of extra shots were blocked by a very resolute defence.  A breakaway came, 2 more shots were blocked until No 9 (Declan Daniels) pounced on the loose ball like a testicle-loving pervert fly, the globe was duly knocked home - 2 - 0 - I considered the game, as a contest, to be almost over.

Hopeful punts from range were all that the Remyca chaps could muster.  Irlam came close again when No 11 (Takura Sambizi) from out wide, dinked inward, put in a cross that Daniels nutted from close in but couldn't find the target.  Soon after the marksman turned supplier for No 8 (Mason Everton) who swung the shank and sent the orb over.  The half wound down and it seemed one more goal from the hosts would surely settle the deal.  It came moments later when the quick and eye-catching (nothing sexual tha' knows) Sambizi received on the flank, nipped into a shooting position and twatted home the third of the night - it was a pearler and we were soon heading to the clubhouse for a coffee and wondering how the travelling tribe could turn this around.

The purchased brew warmed the cockles, we supped and caught up with the aforementioned Irlam secretary.  He was so impressed by the way his team were playing I could visibly see the posterior hernia throb in ecstasy - it was all a little too much if I am honest as I have always preferred these kind of bulges on a camel.  We cut the conversation short when Mr Dodd tried to sell us signed hernia pics - we are sober people and recognise the work of the devil when we see it.

Half-two, once again matters began with the home team making the running.  I was still slurping my coffee when a crack at goal came and the keeper was forced to drop like a bag of Maris Pipers and duly hold.  Within the gulp and glug of more bean-based liquid Irlam's Sambizi was negotiating several markers, entering the box and swinging the shank with purpose.  The ball was propelled forth to Daniels who remained calm and made the scoreline 4 goals to fuck all.

Sambizi had a shot of his own soon after, the ball had too much elevation and then followed a spat, a bit of nonsensical argybargy and a booking or two.  Litherland tried to mix matters up and add a touch of spice, it worked to some extent and they were unlucky not to bag a goal when a header from a corner just went over the horizontal timber.

Little more came to report although Irlam had a few more attempts that just failed to add some icing on an already satisfying cake.  Within a few moments of madness Litherland lost 2 players to red cards, it summed up the teams night and brought great joy to the more spiteful of home fans who sang away as the players left with heads down.

During the final gasps Irlam pushed on, and eventually it was No 15 (John J A Main) who neatly bagged a fifth goal and made sure this was a night to remember.  The referee called proceedings to a halt soon after, my Man of the Match choice went to Irlam's No 11 (Takura Sambizi), a quick footed talent who really put the willies up the travelling pack and I am sure sent home a few prematurely balding defenders too.  A good player and a good head down approach - keep it rolling man and make sure Irlam keep on rising.

Me and the missus buggered off happy with our return visit and with little traffic to negotiate - smashing.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Two teams looking to be a gulf apart but in truth, both units left me with little in the way of a true judgement.  I don't believe for one moment Litherland Remyca are as bad as they looked tonight and just reckoned they were caught on the hop here and were just lacking in pace in all areas.  This happens, I am sure they will pick up points here and there but discipline must be solid and they do need to play as a complete unit all over the park.  Irlam looked mighty slick tonight and really will be a threat to the upper echelons of the league table if they keep on with this style.  They are not going to get things so easy though and I did note that when the opposition added a bit of fire the Irlam pack didn't look as composed or as smooth running.  If they do keep their heads, do not get rattled and ride the lows to create many highs I wouldn't be surprised if they end up in a play off spot.  Prior to that happening though I can see a swelling getting bigger and a balding man being led away with an over-engorged arse area that will need some serious sexual therapy - Warren Dodd - take care my good fellow.

MAINELY GOOD STUFF

12th October 2024 - Maine Road FC 2 v 0 Euxton Villa - The lasses were off out shopping today, I was kissed goodbye and duly did the dishes and tidied the kitchen.  I could have washed my underpants and done the windows but I got sorted and went out on the bike.  8 miles down the road and I was in Chorlton's Costa Coffee sipping a brew and reading a comedic yarn about marriage, the hatred of lawyers and general tomfoolery.  Booked packed up, coffee swilled and legs turning the pedals again I ended up at Chorlton Park where I recorded some fungi, soaked up some splendid rays and gastronomically invested in a superb meal from the Tibetan Cafe - by heck it were grand, I was just hoping I wouldn't need a rectal replacement after passing out the over-indulgence.  The cycling had twanged my hernia, a prolapsed ring-piece would be the last thing I need.

After the scran and another quick pootle that saw me cut and bruise my thigh after walking into a gate (the language used was beyond the spectrum of blue) I headed forth and arrived at the footballing destination. A can of pop and chocolate was grabbed after paying my dues and then I headed for a sit down where I was soon joined by a fine footy mate, John D ('D' for deviant in case you are wondering).  Those of you who read these ramblings may remember that John was involved in selling sexual prosthetic limbs before it went bust. I was eager to see what John was now up to and unsurprised to find that he had moved into the world of Pornographic Jewellery.  The catalogue he passed my way was really well presented with Nipple Necklaces, Breast-Based Ear Muffs and Foreskin Bracelets not my thing but appreciated for the craftsmanship.  I may consider the Buttock-Skin Snood though, especially for those winter months - I just hope it comes with a zip-up anal fastener as a press stud option would look a little cheap - I shall have to await to see if there are any Christmas deals. 

And to the game, John went for a 2-3 score, I fancied 1-1 - this is what went on.  

As pen touched paper, a Fox nipped into the undergrowth and John donned his pubic-lined mittens. Euxton bounded forth with No 10 (Joel Darley) going on a weaving meander like a Salmon with an arse full of roe.  A pass came, No 11 (Vaughn Green) was the recipient, the end shot was weaker than Russell's Brands claims to be a Christian.  Euxton continued to force the pace and work with zealous industry.  From the advancing waves however, only No 7 (George Davies) had a headed pop at goal which was lacking in quality and so failed to bulge the netting.

Matters moved on, the guests continued to dictate the midfield areas whilst Maine Road still sought to find their studded tootsies. Eventually the hosts cultivated an attack with No 8 (Ben Mooney) feeding No 2 (Jake Pogson) who sent in a decent looking cross that just lacked that extra 'whip and bend' factor.  We were soon watching matters unfold up the other end as Davies was chasing a long ball and only denied by a quickly advancing keeper who did enough to snuff out any serious peril.

Green for Euxton was the next bod to chance the shank.  A short run, a punt at goal, the home No 1 (Oliver Brockbank) earned his bacon yet again (unless he was going for the veggie option) and got down and held onto  the ball with relative ease.  Euxton followed up this minor chance with some delicious football that resulted in two attempts being cleared off the goal line.  A free-kick soon followed, the ball went in, out, back in with No 2 (Jack Wyers-Roebuck) finalising matters with a cranial attempt off target.  No 9 (Dan Singleton) had a crack soon after, this one was all too easy for the fellow between the timber.

2 corners for Euxton bore the Fruit of the Fuck All Tree and I was left wondering how on earth the away team weren't leading this game.

Maine Road hung on, displayed resiliency and then were away.  No 10 (Alex Panter) went on a steaming sortie, the keeper was there to be beaten but a selfless pass found No 7 (Jean Jacques-Kirongozi) who stunned the visiting tribe and slapped home the opening goal of the contest. This came seconds after I said to my mate John that I wouldn't be surprised if the hosts bagged the first strike and threw this game upside down.  Maine Road won a free-kick next, the delivery was tidy but the keeper grabbed just in time to thwart the threat by several incoming assassins.  The game was now more balanced, both teams were offering threats.  As the minutes ticked by, and the half-time break loomed, the EV No 3 (Finnley Kent) went on a fine run with a low cross met by Davies who had a decent strike but was denied glory by the outstretched leg of the home mitter,  

The half ended with a booking, a shit free kick and much leg whirring and lather - it had been a decent do for sure.

The break saw me take a leak, eventually crack under John's pressure and see me order a pair of Scrotal Skin Ear-Muffs.  I was told they are all the rage in the backstreets of Blythe - I just hope they keep my lugs warm and don't attract those pesky Testicle Midgies.  I also did a video interview for 2 grand lads - I seem to be always getting roped into these things - hey ho, it is good to do one's bit.  The video can be viewed here - Manchester City IN NON LEAGUE?! (youtube.com) - top work I reckon.

Half two, the home tribe won a quick corner, the ball was delivered and up popped Mooney to double his side's advantage.  This was the perfect start and I was lucky to catch the goal as the aforementioned video duties nearly had me distracted.  Within a spasm of a springtail's rear the hosts came again, Panter quickly supplied Yousif Yousif with the goal there to be bagged.  The outcome - a miss (was this a turning point).

Euxton were now working hard, a free-kick was won and the ball was neatly delivered.  A player rose from the pack and the ball was buried, the goal looked good, a discrepancy was seen and 'no goal' was the verdict - I have no idea why!  The Road were quick to respond, No 17 (Gold Badmus) had a shot parried by the keeper and Kirongozi pounced but blazed over the horizontal.  Euxton strove to get back in to this one, several shots were blocked, corners snuffed out and a few duly wasted.  The away lads were playing some good football, No 6 (Cameron Ross) gathered from a back-heel with a whipping cross seeing the home No 4 (Adam Stuart) breathe a sigh of relief when his defending didn't result in an own goal.  Road were soon racing forward again, Badmus had a chance to kill the game, the keeper produced a quality drenched stop.  Kirongozi was there to follow-up, once again the lad lashed high into the Heavens.

From here on in matters settled with the greatest threat coming from the skies as a hailstorm eruption peppered the playing surface and those exposed.  During the last dregs we saw a few yellow cards issued, a late shot from the Road's Panter that lacked direction and a corner that was nothing less than abyssmal.

The whistle was blown, the Man of the Match for me was an easy choice with Maine Road's No 10 (Alex Panter) excellent value.  The work rate was sterling, the movement on and off the ball eye-catching and in truth, he deserved a couple of goals for his efforts.  Alas for winning the Fungalised MOM Award you get a rubber mushroom up yer arse and a one year subscription to Spore Dropping Shits UK - it is a tough world out there.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Well, a good day indeed, a good cycle, a few fungi recorded, a gutful of fine food, a cafe visit and then this touchline tickler that was a darn decent match for sure.  Euxton Villa were worthy of a few goals today, I am still baffled by the fact that they didn't bag a brace (at least).  They are a good organised unit with many strong players and an ethos that seems aimed at playing sound football.  I cannot see why they won't maintain their lofty position as long as they keep the squad they have and have a fair rub of the green throughout the campaign.  I have only visited their ground once, it was a tucked away delight - will I get back there this season - we shall see!  One ground I will be returning to is the home of Maine Road FC.  They are within peddling distance, are a favoured team I have watched for many a moon and at the moment, look to have a real choice squad that are working with a certain harmony.  The players look settled, have a sound on-field awareness and appear to be enjoying their football.  They are in a tough but somewhat unpredictable league, there is potential to put together a good run, there is potential to implode and fall apart at the soccerised seams, if you were a gambler where would you place your hard-earned dosh? 

BACH TO WINNING FORM

28th September 2024 - Foley Meir 0 v 1 Sandbach Utd - Art and abart once more, with the combo of good company, a couple of cafe visits, a dose of nature and some Non-League Football the order of the day. Longton Park was the first destination and we did just fine with brews and grub from the fine place of refreshment helping to sustain our energy levels.  This the 1061st place in the UK that we had been to and had recorded natural species at.  Today we saw a few blooms and birds, the odd bug and of course, 94 different fungi - all named and recorded on the national database.  

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.