The outcome of the walk was 180+ species, some lovely weather (but we do need rain), a couple of fine cafe visits and the blood circulated, the noggin intrigued and some species listed and to be recorded. From here we headed to the ground, paid our dues and took up the peeping positions. The jaws wagged before the teams took centre stage and the new season proper got underway. I had already squeezed in a couple of friendlies just to whet the appetite but they are mere asides as you can't beat proper Non-League competitive football. As per, predictions were cast, and all hoped for a good hoofing contest. Here we go again and this is the Fungalised take on matters that matter.
The spherical object (made of who knows what these days) was kissed by the tootsies of a boot-clad bod and the game was indeed, afoot (Ooh Mr Sherlock what mysteries the season doth hold). The first incident of any import came from a frenetic start where both teams were laden with early season zeal. A Wombwell flick header fell to the plates of No 7 (Josh Brown) who was just denied an early strike due to the alertness of the highly conscious guest keeper (Alfie Appleby). Down at the other end of the pitch we went with a smooth passing sequence unfortunately pissed on by a poor apical grass grazer - the move was worthy of so much more.
No 11 (Reece York) for the visiting tribe had a pop soon after but matters lacked power and direction and then No 7 (Adam Drury) indulged in an impudent first time lob that was a very cheeky attempt but remained just too lofted. Wombwell worked back and probed away via some thoughtful sequences of play. A handball shout was desperate and waved away just like another similar hollering at the other end. Pressing came by both attacking forces, a breakthrough looked about as likely as a politician telling the truth when a Wombwell push came, a lost cause was chased by Brown who was enough of a menace to cause a defensive blip whereupon No 11 (Joshua Haigh) stepped up and bumbled the ball goalward and... over the line. By heck, the first goal of the season proper - here we go, here we go etc. etc.
From here Wombwell were the better team of this first period and were soon advancing again with good pace. The end result of a move with much promise was a shot by No 10 (Nash Connelly), a shot in fact that was lower than the gonads of the famed octogenarian Humberto Slacksack and weaker than the comedy of a PC-riddled Les Dennis wannabe. The keeper's positioning was a little off, the ball bumbled along and was met by a hand but enough gumption in the globe was had to see it trickle into the onion bag and double the home lead.
Brigg Town were now up against it, a shot finalised a move, the home No 1 (Sebastian Malkowski) stood firm and a free-kick soon after was headed goalward but alas over the horizontal timber. A smattering of argy-bargy crept into the game after a dubious decision by the sable-clad judge and then York for The Zebras had a dig that was wonderfully defended. 2 more punts followed with more fine defending had and that was period one done, dusted and consigned to the vaults.
We went to the opposite side of the pitch for part two, shared a banana whilst our fellow onlookers went to have a splash and stretch the shanks or, if unfortunate, to have a stretch and splash the shanks. The sun was strong, the teams were soon back out and I was keen for more goals.
An early corner was soon achieved by the Wellers, in and out, a robust, fair tackle and some gobbing off. Brigg worked away, No 8 (Lewis Collins) sent forth a delicious shot, the save that came was of a fine quality and kept the proverbial Willy of the Weller's sticking out in front. A hoof from the angle went to the back post, a nut connected and sent the ball goalward but again the keeper answered the questions asked. The visitors continued to work up a good lather and create some pressure but by heck Wombwell were well organised and disciplined at the back and afforded little in the way of any real chances. York chanced his shank with a decent annelid sizzler but the attempt was deflected wide and the corner produced bugger all.
The game continued with things looking very balanced when a Brigg ball came and No 9 (Josh Batty) wasted no time in looping an effort right over the keeper and into the back of the net. A really well taken goal and looking to inject new levels of intrigue into the game but, no sooner had the restart happened then Wombwell advanced, Haigh posted a sumptuous cross and No 9 (Ollie Fearon) applied a firm crust contact and the 2 goal cushion was restored. What a ruddy sweet goal, sweeter in fact than the sugar-dipped nipples of Hilda Baker (so my mate Rossi had me believe).
Matters were racing on now, corners came each way, Fearon went close again and suddenly we were into the last 10 minute spell. The guests hammered away, another shot was superbly blocked by the home No 6 (Jack Wilson) and then a close in header by Batty was put over the bar with No 12 (Dayle Southwell) having a shot soon after that the keeper did well to fist away. With the clock turning, the trailing ranks made a concerted effort and were rewarded when a ball in was sent homeward by the fresh and lively Southwell - it was deserved for sure.
This late strike set things up for a final fling of uncertainty and one wondered if a stealing of a point could be had by the team with renewed belief. Alas it was not to be as Brigg pushed and were caught with their trousers of confidence down. A long hoof forth, a touch on and Wombwell's No 12 (Louis Hart) was in the right place at the right time and buried the game as a contest with a low shot that was too tasty for the mittman. Soon after we were done, I think, on the balance of play, the result was highly fair. Man of the Match was a difficult one but I thought Wombwell Town's No 6 (Jack Wilson) put in a quite concrete stint and led from the rear in a strong and unflustered way. It is these kind of performances that sometimes get overlooked even though they are the key to a teams end victory - a good effort and here's to many more as the season unfolds.
So, farewells, a chat in the car park with Rossi (no, I didn't buy the Ms Baker nude snaps) and home. A good early jaunt 'off-patch' - I think we may be back over the border very soon.
FINAL THOUGHTS - 2 teams awash with the joys and eager beaver hormones of early season promise. All predictions bore no fruit although my 3 -1 win for the hosts was looking good until a couple of late strikes. Brigg Town looked good but just ran out of ideas up front and failed to deal with Wombwell Town's rigid defending. I can't see why The Zebras will lose any stripes this campaign, they just need to get a rub of the green, stay focused and work on the creativity factor. I hope we can watch them again at some point during the season, I will keep an eye on the fixtures. Wombwell Town look pretty close to being a complete unit and have pace, flair and a certain solidity. With 3 points in the bag the first stone is laid on which to build a temple of Triumph - or indeed on which to disturb the foundations and make for a false promise and a Church of Chances lost - it is all about focus and discipline and there is a long, long way to go. Again, my orbs shall be observing fixtures and a chance to see this lot in action again - they could be in for a very rewarding season indeed.
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