The air was kissed by a cooling breeze, the play began with Widnes earning an early free-hoof after some very slick passing. No 9 (Adam Palfrey) applied the executioners touch with a low grass-grazer lacking in gumption and allowing the keeper to get down and smother. This was as close as we got to any high end action during the early throes but Nomads were noticeably industrious and fizzing with eagerness. The guests dashed hither and tither and worked up a good foam but could only manage to win another free-kick that No 10 (Josh Quarless) took and nearly brought down the local aircraft. By heck, was he looking to earn a place in his Town's local rugby side - surely his balls are not that misshapen.
It looked as though a goal was a mere dream when a long ball saw the Widnes No 3 (Jack Hont) nut the said sphere over his own keeper. The ball was heading forth, all it needed was the slightest touch to guide it into the netting but the chasing striker was just too late to apply the assassins touch. The corner came, in and out the ball went with No 10 (George Colville) having a punt that went over the bar. Back and forth matters went and a goal was beckoning when the Nomads burst forth from a midfield gathering like a wrestlers testicle from a pair of overstrained shorts (oh Shirley Crabtree ya sexed up bastard). A touch and No 9 (Daniel Lewis) crossed first time with No 11 (Chigozie Ewelike) reacting as quick as The Flash with a 3 prong plug up his arse. No messing, no thought for any unnecessary intricacy - a shot, a bulge of the net and 1- 0 it was and a fine goal built on rapidity and alertness had.
The touch paper had now been finally lit, Widnes needed to be careful or they would be severely burnt. Time galloped on, little in the way of a response came, despite the away team putting in some good movement. Nomads came closest to bagging a second when a ball was won due to nothing more than ardent desire. No 7 (Dylan Woods) was at the apex of the move, the shot that came though was just off target. The home lads earned a gratis-punt soon after, Colville dinked one, Lewis arrived and buried the ball - a neatly executed move with a quite simplistic finish - as simple as A, B and C. A few spicy tackles came, a bit of niggling and some minor glimpses of goal at both ends and then we were done.
I stayed put for half-time, was joined by local togger Mark Torbitt who was keen to relate a tale about a recent sexual conquest. Apparently the man with the lens had been stalking a Joe Gladwin look-a-like in the hope of having a long-term relationship and giving rise to an army of 'Speccy Twats'. It transpired that a meeting in a back street doss house had been arranged and Mark had satisfied his bodily needs only to find out that the article of his attention was the actual resurrected body of Mr Gladwin himself . As one can imagine Mark was overjoyed by this revelation, indulged in several more fumblings and even invested in his own pair of jam-jar glasses. News of a tribe of cretinous living dead will no doubt be all over social media soon, I remained amused and yet a trifle disgusted - I hope none of these halfwits will be living near me.
And to half two! I swallowed more anti-psychotic pills, breathed deeply and banished the visions borne from the half-time yarn. Widnes came forth with a new found relish, No 8 (Jordan Deer) charged in, had a dig and won a corner from the deflected shot. The ball was posted, a break was building with the Nomadic No 8 (Collins Tanor) on it and clattered - the referee did well to just give a free-kick. No success was had from this dead ball and a few others bore the same end result as the game became mightily fractured with one team looking for a goal and the other trying to protect what they had. I was joined by Nomads Director of Football, namely Andy Gray. We assessed the game and nattered on when Andy asked me if I was interested in purchasing a Scottish Sex Weeble. I examined an egg shaped article and admired the smooth finish and tartan colouring - I was convinced and acquired a half dozen - my arse may be tingling with pleasure very soon - I just hope the one holding bagpipes doesn't irritate my prostate.
As Andy bagged the payment we looked up to see the Nomads get their defensive knickers in a twist and allow No 11 (Xenon Bahula) to sneak in and bumble the globe homeward - what a gift, what a faux pas, what a fuckin' cock-up. Widnes were now given renewed hope and started to play with an unquenchable desire. Bahula was in the midst of the next noteworthy move with a fine cross put in across the face of goal that was begging for the killers toe-kiss. No contact was made but the pressure remained on the home rear end. No 15 (Carl Rogers) was the opening pawn in the next move and delivered a fine long throw right onto the bonce of Quarless. The cranial flick on was delicate, No 6 (Eoim Hogan) arrived and the touch home was delivered - 2 - 2 - talk about blowing a potential 3 points. The home side looked bewildered.
Nah then, my pre-match prediction of 2-2 was looking good but the previous Saturday I was all set for a bang-on score when late goals blew any chance of success. As per, I prefer to be way out of sync as long as there are goals aplenty. This game was up for grabs, The Chemics looked highly likely to take the final 3 point prize but were just lacking composure and a bit of luck. Rogers had a low shot though and the post was clattered, this could have been a real turning point (I wonder if Buck could have done any better)?
We entered the closing stages, Bahula for Widnes was felled in the box, no penalty was the verdict, I was in wholehearted agreement. Hogan for the guests had a crack but the low shot flew wide and then we had a smattering of touchline trouble as gobs let off steam and all sorts of silly bollocks occurred. In the midst of this the Bahula was sent for an early dip which I think slightly pissed on the chips of chance for the Widnes pack. Play resumed and with over-enthusiastic desperation taking hold no further highs were had and we were done. Man of the Match was contemplated again, it was a close affair but I think Cheadle Heath Nomads No 2 (Callum Graham) played a controlled game, had his hands full at times but stuck to his guns and made sure that things were re-steadied at the back after 2 startling leakages.
Homeward I went, it had been an entertaining game for sure but one that left both teams with 2 points lacking - and Nomads with their second 2-2 draw in a row - oh and with this here Fungalised git with a bang on prediction - crikey, I may buy a few more of them Weebles as way of a treat!
FINAL THOUGHTS - Well what can one add at this early stage in the season. I expected much from Widnes during this campaign and yet tonight they looked a team far from the finished article. The first half I thought they were poor but the second half showed that they have a resilience and a belief and were on the good side of Lady Luck. They dug deep and several players showed that they can help this side move on and get some fine results. The team must remain disciplined though and make sure they work darn hard off the ball and keep their opponents unsettled. We are only a couple of games in and perhaps at month's end we can judge where this lot will end up - I will no doubt be catching them again at some point! Cheadle Heath Nomads were darn average during the pre-season friendlies I saw and gave me little in the way of hope for the season ahead. Tonight they were a different kettle of fish with the first half showing a fine work rate and some really admirable desire both on and off the ball. The main blip was allowing the opposing force back in and when under the cosh not finding enough in the way of an escape option to negate the threat. Things are promising though and not as bleak as I initially deemed. I hope they do OK, it is a good set-up and worthy of a competitive campaign. Of course they are my local side so more visits will follow through the coming weeks, and perhaps a greater insight into the deviant lives of the folks who work at the club - for a lowly entrance fee it is all good ruddy value tha' knows and better than stopping in and contemplating how many processed peas one can fit in ones navel.
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