THE FAT BAG SINGS THE CHEADLE BLUES

14th December 2024 - Cheadle Town 1 v 1 Litherland Remyca - After a quick rise and swill, myself and my gem of a lady were out feeding the birds at Poynton Pool and of course, recording a few species and noting the odd fungus.  This may be regarded by the mush as crank behaviour, with the future of kids in peril I wonder what the verdict will be in a few years.  We go forth, we see, we appreciate reality and do our bit - and all without thought of show, sheen and flimsy shittery - punk DIY ethics held high - kaboom.  Soon after the walk we were in a fine eatery in Poynton, indulging in some quite excellent nosh that was rather pricey but worth it.  It was good to be the scruffiest bastard in town with the loveliest woman on my arm.  I bet I was the only one who pissed behind the church, noted 5 Redwings and a few lovely fungi.  

After a mooch in a few shops we headed to the footy where I was dropped off whilst the punky music blared from the car.  My missus headed home, she was off out with my daughter and her friend, a ruddy Panto was their choice of viewing, however the thought of kicking Widow Twanky in the twat and shoving Jack's beanstalk up his arse was very tempting.  I entered the ground, had a natter with the guy on the gate, this time about fishing.  I had recently seen a 33lb 6oz Pike and the fellow communicator was getting back into fishing - the jaw wagging content made sense.  Soon after my perch (see what I did there) was chosen, I was sipping coffee and scribbling notes regarding a game that unfolded like this:-

A lowly crowd had all eyes on the ball at 3pm as matters got underway on another mild winter's day (global warming, hold on tight folks).  Cheadle Town opened proceedings with a sanguine flourish that earned plenty of up-field possession that was only marred by one pass too many.  A corner was eventually earned, a high ball was posted, a header borne but a guest player had been nobbled - goal kick.  Cheadle Town came again, No 4 (Sean Moscrop) put in a solid dash, the cross that followed was a trifle too long.  The ball eventually was played back, No 10 (Daniel Byrnes) worked space and dug out a pop that was straight into the meat of the keeper's carcass.  No 7 (George Lewis) for the hosts helped maintain the early pressure with some good battling gusto.  A free-kick and a corner produced piss-all though - Remyca were holding firm.

More advances came via the way of the Town, little in the way of trouble was made for the travelling tribe although one header at goal should have brought the first goal I felt.  A drab period came, this allowed the Litherland lads to worm their way back into matters but all they could brandish as threat was a long shot from their No 11 (James Hammill) that was straight at the host No 1 (James Hodges). Cheadle began to reassert their presence but all the while, up-front creativity was blatantly lacking.  A corner for Cheadle came, entered the box that was a right old befuddling mush, full marks were given to the Remyca for standing their ground and remaining watertight.

The half progressed with tidy pace, a suggestion of ill-tempered spice crept in that the referee did well to subdue.  The main area of action was in the middle of the playing arena, the closest we came to a goal was when the home keeper nearly made a hash of a back pass but somehow managed to save his bacon and not put himself up for the 'Twat of the Weekend' award.  From here we saw one more Town advance with a corner coming after a great run by No 11 (Kaleb Parkinson). The ball entered the mush, a near post flick of impudent intent by No 6 (Matthew Smyth) saw the ball squeeze through a pack of pegs and nestle in the meshing - the game needed this and the half time break came soon after and left us set up nicely for period 2.

I stayed put for the break, on my lonesome in a lofted corner contemplating the skies and the sounds.  25 Starlings kept me company, chattering away in fluty tones whilst a Lesser Black Backed Gull flew over and a Wood Pigeon cut a dash through the air like it had a date with Deirdre the Dirty Dove - phwoar what a nasty vent she has.  

The teams eventually came back out and halted my cerebral roamings into avian porn. I was further distracted by an early CT corner that bore bugger all but set an early tempo.  After another fruitless angled humping a good build up followed with some quick, slick football culminating in a delivery by Parkinson and No 8 (Darren McKnight) sadly mis-controlling and letting the ball go dead - boo, that could have been a real peach of a moment. Town had their peckers up, several shots at the Remyca goal were blocked, a break came and the guest No 8 (Elliot Toner) let fly from range but failed to send the ball around the awaiting mesh protector.

The half progressed, again the main bulk of play was in the central area with both teams huffing and puffing but making little in the way of serious headway. The LR brigade were working up a noticeable lather and looking to get this game back to all square.  The quality touch was lacking but I had a feeling in my waters that an equaliser was on the cards.  From the treacle pudding of midfield mither I hoped a few feisty thrusts would add flavour afresh.  It seemed a forlorn hope as the game became a grind and grew quite stale. 

The hosts eventually won a corner, from the melee the ball was buried, it looked to be a game settler, the liner however had other ideas, he waved his flag like a stationmaster on whizz - ooh the rotter.  A rare LR corner followed (was this the first of the game) and was played to the near post where a flick header went inches wide.  If ever there was a warning for the leading team, this was it.  Suddenly, as Cheadle advanced the ball was lost, a pass found Hammill who beat his marker, sent in a low grass grazing shot and found the sought after bag of glory.  This goal had been coming, it was well deserved too.

The final splutterings were soon upon us, it was a hectic session of soccerised mania.  End to end fervour was borne, the key of composure was lacking.  Litherland Remyca advanced, Hammill had a first time dig, by heck it were ruddy close and one could almost see the home manager swoon in shock.  Another punt at the goal by the guests flew over soon after and then Cheadle summoned a surge with a sub supplying McKnight whose final touch was awful.

More flurries came, a few offside decisions, a couple of wayward shots and before we knew it, the referee had called for a finish.  The Man of the Match choice for me was a darn tricky affair,  There were several to consider but I reckon that Cheadle Town's No 2 (Matthew Cook) was worthy of a nod due to the sheer tenacious work-rate, an encompassing awareness and relentless eagerness to try and create.  Always good value this chap, he perhaps deserved to be on the winning side but the tits of fortune can be rather tough at times.

I wandered forth after the game into the darkened realms.  I put a spurt on and arrived home to witness my lasses getting ready to head to the panto - ooh the silly sods.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Well, 2 teams were on show today and both were spluttering along into the festive period with work to do.  The league positions were reflective of the plight of both teams with inconsistency a major facet of their seasons so far. Litherland must start games more quickly than this and make sure they play with a more sanguine and attacking focus with no fear of conceding but a great belief in scoring.  As for Cheadle Town, well they are still in the Premier League, still finding their feet and are very hit and miss that is for sure.  They have some good players, a few who just need to work a little harder and a fine manager who will look after all and stick to his values.  Sometimes, in fact a lot of times, a move is overcomplicated and a chance squandered whereas a more intrinsically basic pass, boot, wallop would pay greater dividends.  The team will be OK though, and like Litherland, they will nestle into the mid-table pack and have to rethink for next season.

RAMMED UP THE REAR (OOH HECK)

13th December 2024 - Prestwich Heys 0 v 5 Ramsbottom United - The fungus season is done, I am doing no more fungus walks, I am sticking to leading general nature walks.  Too many are hellbent on taking from a struggling natural world, fungi are trendy, I hate trends - awkward to the core.  I have led 501 walks and my target of 500 is done, I wanted to see and record 5000 species, this has been achieved, the good lady and myself wanted to visit 1000 places in the UK and record wildlife, we have done it. I also wanted to put on and promote 200 Nights of DIY noise - hey, done that too - fuck the fashion merchants. The next targets, to input 150,000 wildlife records, to review 2000 CD's, to do 500 Non-League match reports - I am fuckin' on it.  It is good to have targets as long as one is putting back - here is my latest effort dealing with some Friday night footy, Friday the 13th in fact, if I get a football in the knackers, they turn black and roll away into the misty evening, I will know the devil is not on my side.

After a long day at work, my good lady and my griping self headed out after a brief tea.  The run down to the ground was as smooth Kojak's posterior and we were soon in the ground, perched up and sipping coffee.  Predictions were for an away win, a big win at that and come full time, we were proven right but with neither of us bagging the bang on score.  Fix, fix, fix!

The round bag of wind was soon rolling, from a rather placid commencement a burst of liquid fluidity saw the guests advance with No 3 (Harvey Hayhurst) finalising matters with a punt from a slight angle.  The ball had good 'oomph' factor but was a trifle eager in its elevation and so flew over the horizontal timber - it was the first salting of promise and my pen was poised to scribble with greater fervour.  No 11 (Thomas Hoyle) was soon darting forth but the home No 1 (Louis Hood) was quick to react, halted matters but gave away a corner.  The ball from the angle was played long, No 4 (Andrew Teague) connected but an infringement was called and the dangled todge of excitement was duly tucked back in.  

Ramsbottom were already looking to be the superior outfit despite being in the embryonic stages of the game.  Movement, energy and general slickness gave suggestion that Prestwich Heys were in for a long night of bollock-bursting labour.  The guests were soon progressing again, a throw was flicked on, some weak defending allowed Hoyle to collect and slide the ball under the carcass of the keeper - I repeat - this was looking to be a long night for the resident pack.

For a temporary period the Heys lads gained some territorial advantage but the final balls into areas marked 'danger' were lacking in quality and were slightly rushed.  A free-kick came and a lengthy injury break.  The ball was posted, the header weak and then a forced substitution was made.  From the restart the Rammy No 2 (Oscar Radcliffe) found space, slammed in a low, hard cross and was mighty miffed that no players were there to poke the ball home.  Persistent Ramsbottom pressure followed (cripes that sounds like a real farmyard complaint) with the host defence all over the place and looking very disorganised.  A penalty was eventually won, No 10 (Harvey Whyte) took responsibility and thumped with purpose. The keeper dove the right way, the ball had too much wallop - 0 - 2 it was.

From here the guests pounced again, a slick move saw a free-kick awarded that No 6 (Maine Walder) whipped in with grass-cutting swerve that the mitter did well to save.  The corner that followed was bilge and a header from a high cross failed to add to the Heys woes.  Rammy were soon weaving forth again, No 9 (Rhys Turner) shrugged off several markers before crossing the ball which saw Hoyle guide home.  This was a game in danger of becoming a farce, I was hoping the hosts could dust down, take stock and get a grip. Alas another surge of blue came, a shot was deflected onto the bar, a follow-up blocked on the line and then a third crack at the onion bag was pinged off a defender for a corner.  2 corners ensued, the latter was punctuated by a shot from Radcliffe that was went into the mucky leaking sky.

Prestwich Heys were clutching at straws (broken straws at that) but somehow managed a sortie forth.  The cross had good pace but, as is the case when things are not going to plan, all noggins were missed and any chance went begging.  This moment was soon punished as the visitors put together a simplistic move which saw Hoyle bag an hat-trick and put the outcome of tonight's contest beyond doubt.

As the half wound down, Prestwich had a period of decent play with a free-kick, a header and then a shot by No 10 (Lewis Ayres) saved.  The team should have had a goal here - it just wasn't going to happen and so my pre-match prediction of 1-6 was looking in jeopardy.

The final dregs of period one came, Rammy continued to dictate the play when a hopeful push saw a ball whipped in and Hayhurst arrive to tap home and seal a good 45 minute stint.  The Heys had one last push, No 11 (Marcus Perry) supplied a decent cross but no takers were found and the half ended seconds later.

The rears were parked and we were in no mood to move.  Me and the good lady shared a choccy bar and pondered.  This was a spectacle that the home team could now use as a practice session so as to prepare for more important league fixtures.  If I was the Heys manager I would have sent my team out stark bollock naked with Christmas crackers on each player's todge.  The supporting fans may not get the right result but the entertainment would be high and pulling the crackers after the match would surely appeal to those of a more homo-erotic stance.  

Half two began, Christmas adornments were not to be seen although the bauble I had stuffed up my arse prior to the game still felt good.  The start to the second period was tame, Rammy had a pop from a cut back but no further penetration was had.  Prestwich Heys returned matters with a flourish of their own, a free-kick found No 3 (Louie Hutchinson) at the far post, the defending pack stood firm.  

The game from here dissolved into something of a dead-zone, little in the way of scribble-enthusing action came as a glutinous porridge was hit.  From the relative gloopy tedium the Heys had a pop that went over but, other than that, we had a paucity of excitement.  Eventually a flourish of Prestwich action came, a hat-trick of corners, several shots blocked and good general industry was shown but... no breakthrough had, such is this shitty footballing life.

The home No 10 (Lewis Ayres) sent a shot over soon after the pressure points were pressed and in return a Rammy's sub let fly from distance but the mitter was on it.  As the rain fell, matters folded in on themselves and a shabby half of football was brought to a close.  Prior to shifting the arse I chose Ramsbottom United's No 4 (Andrew Teague) for Man of the Match - what a concrete component who read the game well at all times and was utterly on it from start to finish.  

We headed home, the drizzle fell, the chill started to creep in - one half was enthralling, the other drab, we still enjoyed ourselves though.

FINAL THOUGHTS - These cup games are hard to judge at times and when one team is flying high in the league and the other is down in the doldrums it is hard to figure who is putting in the greatest commitment.  Priorities are what it is all about and Ramsbottom could go all the way in this one and could easily win the league.  A well-oiled machine but, a bad spell of weather, a few injuries and all chances of success could be lost - a case of watch yer steps chaps.  Nonetheless this is a very good side, watch their progress closely folks.  Prestwich Heys are up against the wall with their arses bared and the great Big Boy Buggery looking to shaft their season (and other parts) good and proper.  A tightening up in all areas, a bit of luck and some non-stop work will help but things are looking mighty dire and the drop looms.  I hope the team have an upswing in fortunes and I am sending good vibes, Fungal power and 22 arse corks just for good measure.  On we all go!