1st November 2017 - Cheadle Town 1 v 8 Stockport County - Flashing along with the buttocks ablaze, striving to keep my sanity amidst a whirl of family life, work, fungal walks, gigs and CD reviews amongst other things I was determined to squeeze in the match tonight and get the ball rolling for the November reports. At the moment the home computer is about as trustworthy as Richard Madeley in a wine shop and in truth, my tits are twitching with ill temperament every time I switch the wired-wrong wanker on. Alas we make ourselves slaves to technology and although I am trying to 'disconnect' as much as possible, some things can't be done any other way - such as this blog. So home from work, exercise, a wrestle with the aforementioned box of digital devilry and some scram. I watched some dross TV, scratched me arse and had a natter with the lasses, and then I was at Park Road, reading a bit of Somerset Maugham and awaiting another episode of the Cheshire Senior Cup. I shan't go on, the pilot light may go out on the darn computer anytime soon, here is another Fungalised lowdown, I hope my niggling attitude doesn't mar the end output.
No sooner had a mist settled than The County Boys had a swift push with No 3 (Josh Robinson) having a quick punt that wasn't too far wide of the mark - an early warning signal, had the home bods taken note? The response was solid, Cheadle won a corner but it was easily dealt with and Stockport were already proving to be the quicker team with loose balls grabbed, sharp passes made and hassled opponents aplenty. A goalkeeping blip by Cheadle's last man was overcome but soon after No 11 (Darren Stephenson) displayed good pace and drilled in a driver that was again just shy of the target - it seemed almost a matter of time before the mesh was rippled. As Cheadle hustled and provided much bluster County's Stephenson ran the wing and crossed. No 11 (Bohan Dixon) was the recipient and placed the shot with a sweat free brow, 1 up to the guests. Another County move followed, No 2 (Alex Jackson), No 8 (Harry Brazel) and No 7 (Adam Thomas) combining with the latter chap snap-shooting but not finding end triumph. Seconds later No 9 (George West) was in, provided a pass that saw Dixon turn and toe poke - the save that followed was crucial.
Cheadle were now slogging their arses off, Stockport looked ready to pounce and did so when a long ball was collared by Thomas who ran through a bunch of bewildered defenders and brought up the second goal of the night - it was all looking too easy. I had barely finished scribbling my notes when a County corner was swung in and headed out. Alas for Cheadle a half-volley by Thomas was rifled in, took a deflection and nestled in the net - by heck man, pass me the abacus. A rare Cheadle corner came next, all heads rose and were missed and an own goal was nearly the result as an outstretched peg knocked the ball the wrong way. Another angled punt was taken, it was dealt with and a liquid break came, 3 swift passes and crack - we were unlucky not to witness the 4th goal of the night. A bit of Cheadle jostling saw No 11 (Remeece Brown) break from the pack, this was the time for quick-thinking and a cool head. The shot that came was bent with pace but was nothing short of shite - oh well, back to square one lads. A dull period now ensued, the ball though was still rolling one way and when a simple pass from nowhere came and found County's Dixon, he wasted no time and fired home with good technique and clinical precision. From here Cheadle cultivated a break, Brown showed dazzling tempo in the shanks, he crossed to No 9 (Jake Ambrose) who had more time than he realised. He shot close in, pass me the tablets of reality - Cheadle had a goal, and well deserved it was. I was thrilled by this strike back and the excitement resurrected strange voices in my head that told me to frequent the company of the local crooked bookmaker (Harry Bent) and place a £500 wager on a Cheadle comeback. No sooner had my posterior left the seat to seek out the untrustworthy turf accountant than Stockport flashed in several corners, the latter of which was punched clear but duly fired back by the industrious No 8 (Harry Brazel). The 5th goal was had, my betting ideas were banished, I was back in the land of reality (and so were tonight's host team). The ref blew and I went for a gypsies and pondered proceedings - 6 goals for a fiver but far from a decent match, hey ho, one can't have everything.
I slurped some ginger, chewed on a few Refreshers and tried mighty hard to ignore the damp chill that was hell-bent on molesting my privates - a Jimmy Saville night for sure - crikey 'How's about that then?'
Half two, early action the way of the home army. A ball into the box, nutted back out but Shaw connected with bonse - what a neat save and the ball was tipped over. Cheadle were striving to make something competitive arise out of the mire but it was all to no avail when Stockport ran the wing, a cross was flashed in and Dixon slotted home to bag his personal hat-trick and rub salt in Cheadle's many open wounds. Ambrose for Cheadle wouldn't lie down and die and made a steaming run, played back to his comrade Brown who curled one in - the target was missed but the move held potential. Another lull now came, the mists gathered, the smell of pies, cannabis and touchline bollocks pervaded the air and it was the visiting tribe who came once more with No 4 (Will Holt) finalising a move that saw the ball gratefully tipped over the bar. The pressure was now rising again and out of the night air No 12 (Jordan Peach) of County chased a seemingly lost ball, showed determination and desire to get a cross in and let George West tap home. 7up folks, the team should have been sponsored.
From here stagnancy set in, Cheadle had run themselves ragged, Stockport had let their foot off the pedal but a long diagonal ball and a sharp central pass saw the 8th goal come via the feet of Szymon Czubik, who, on his competitive debut, must surely have been chuffed to bits with this fine bonus. From here Stockport pushed for another - it didn't come but No 5 (Jordan Downing) had a good volley saved and on the dying breath Cheadle's goalie was quick enough to quell a last minute flurry and keep the scoreline totally...disrespectful. I watched the ref peep his pea (sexy bastard), the teams leave the pitch and I pootled off out of it. Man of the Match for me goes to Stockport County's No 8 (Harry Brazel) who showed an undying willingness, a keen alert brain and a hearty desire to be involved for the full 90 minutes, which was rewarded by a goal and some darn decent play - can't fault it.
FINAL THOUGHT - Imbalance - mmm, a 90's punk band and the state of play tonight. The fact of the matter is that Cheadle Town were out of their depth tonight and got easily pushed aside by a professional team doing their duty. It wasn't a competitive affair at all and in truth I will be glad to get back to the North West Counties League action soon enough. Good on the home lads for their efforts though and if they show as much gumption and spirit in the league, a top half finish surely awaits. Stockport have some eye-catching players, some with good awareness, some with good strength and many with fast feet. I would be a fool to judge them on this performance and how they will fair in their own division. I am a few rungs down and love it where I dwell but, if the team all work hard, run themselves into the ground during each and every match and maintain their clinical finishing they will be in a very unpredictable shake-up at the end of the campaign. The fact remains though, whatever level, the football pyramid is a mighty tough place to reside, the wheat will always be separated from the chaff, the idle will be certainly pinpointed in amongst the desirous - think on.
Thursday, 2 November 2017
Sunday, 29 October 2017
BANGOR - A DAMP SQUIB
27th October 2017 - Bangor City FC 0 v 1 Cefn Druids - Up at 6am, out at 7am. A long drive from Stockport to Bodnant Gardens in Conwy and some toast and a sausage butty. A meet up with some rangers and a fungus walk showing them what is what and, what isn't. 4 hours later and with wet feet it was a tootle to Conway RSPB for a birding wander and then to the Archway Chippy for a good belly filling feast - lovely. Finally, as darkness descended and my feet stunk worse than the bedsheets of Compo Clegg, ooh the crummy arsed bugger, we headed out for the 30 minute drive to the Nantporth Stadium, home of Bangor FC. A rare trip outside of the North West Counties League, I am certainly not starting that groundhopping lark, I have enough on my plate as it is but if the odd opportunity arises to see a few new teams, so be it. We entered the ground, found a decent perch and pondered the programme. A chill crept in and made sure we snuggled up, did I mention I had damp feet, crikey, I wish I would have changed my socks. Anyway, we looked forward to the kick off, we had had a fine day, all we needed now was a crackerjack match, what we got was thus.
A sketchy start saw an early free kick come the way of the home army. Nothing came of the punt but it did begin a period of pressure that tested the Druid's steel. Good strength was shown by Bangor's No 31 (Anderson Cayola) and he duly earned a dangerous looking free-kick, alas the strike was ruddy woeful and the cockles stayed far from warm. Bangor's No 4 (Luke Wall) was being particularly problematical and quite willing to work the flanks and run like a chicken with a perverse farmer in chase. Out of the Welsh wild yonder a Bangor bod committed a reckless challenge and allowed the Druids a free-kick. The ball was struck into the box, a rising dome connected and the goalkeeper had to block. The ball was dropped and up stepped the CD No 8 (Alec Mudimu) to tidily slip home. Against the run of play this goal may have been but the Cefn Druids seemed to me to be a tough nut to crack.
Now The Citizens pushed back with a long ball from the Druid's Midumu which was chased and won by the No 23 (Lewis Buckley) who let fly a shot that forced the host keeper to save and prevent a 2nd goal. The Cefn Druids came again when a fleet-footed fellow weaved forth and won a corner. The ball was belted in, cleared and commenced a counter-attack led by the Blue-backed No 9 (James Demetriou). He paused too long on the ball and allowed defenders to gather their bearings and, when his pass came to Cayola, the nut that was executed was off target. Another good burst from Bangor saw No 15 (Danny Holmes) denied at the last by a lunging back bod and from here the action petered out with both squads in too much of a rush and failing to find any controlled cohesion. The half-time came, is was a very middling affair thus far.
A Snicker and a shiver for half time, chilled to the marrow we were becoming, come on teams, get us warmed up ya buggers.
The first chance of the second period came the way of the guests, with Shaw having a crack and seeing the ball deflect wide - the corner was easily dealt with, oh crap, not more of the same please. A hectic mush ensued with any definite chances a rare commodity. The ball pinged from end to end, the Cefn Druids cultivated the first eye catching move with rapid passing fervour allowing Buckley to provide a finishing touch. The upright was struck and the goalkeeper was glad to grab the loose globe, Bangor needed to wake up real soon. Luke Wall had a rasp shot flash over and a free-kick on the edge of the Druid box was swung in moments later with the ball going towards the vacant top corner. The mittman was alert and stretched and somehow managed to palm away - good work squire. From here Bangor pressure came, a ball in and a mitter fumble, the gloved guardian was lucky not to see a striker nick a goal. The hosts now played with high intensity and several bonus punts were given and the odd attempt at goal chanced - all though we were lacking any genuine bollocks and time and opportunity slipped by. As the home bods pushed, a chance of a breakaway became highly probable which did happen not long after via the feet of a runner whom I missed the name and number of. By heck he didn't half gallop along and ended up in the opposite box with room to shoot. The finish was idle, it could have full stopped a fine moment, unlucky man, maybe next time! The game ground on, no action of any note came, when the ref blew I had no gripes and opted to select The Cefn Druid's handful, No 23 (Lewis Buckley) the Man of the Match Award due to his selfless running, hefty work-rate and consistently problematical weaving that gave the opponents rear so much to think about - it made more of a difference than what you may think. We buggered off, this wasn't the classic we anticipated, I reckon though we shall be back at some point...and why not?
FINAL THOUGHT - We are getting closer to Bonfire night but there were no fireworks on show here. The fuse was never truly lit and throughout the match one could count the real chances on goal on the hand of a double-fingered amputee - it wasn't high, as you may gather. The Ancients are a good organised squad and will be a real challenge for any team both home and away. Bangor FC have a good set up here and have some players with much zip but, pace is all well and good but if things are overly flustered and time is not taken to make a definite cutting pass then all the running and good will in the world will come to very little. This was a below average match that showcased two sides snuffing out each others potential sparks, next time I demand a few rockets up my arse - oh and some dry feet - did I mention those?
A sketchy start saw an early free kick come the way of the home army. Nothing came of the punt but it did begin a period of pressure that tested the Druid's steel. Good strength was shown by Bangor's No 31 (Anderson Cayola) and he duly earned a dangerous looking free-kick, alas the strike was ruddy woeful and the cockles stayed far from warm. Bangor's No 4 (Luke Wall) was being particularly problematical and quite willing to work the flanks and run like a chicken with a perverse farmer in chase. Out of the Welsh wild yonder a Bangor bod committed a reckless challenge and allowed the Druids a free-kick. The ball was struck into the box, a rising dome connected and the goalkeeper had to block. The ball was dropped and up stepped the CD No 8 (Alec Mudimu) to tidily slip home. Against the run of play this goal may have been but the Cefn Druids seemed to me to be a tough nut to crack.
Now The Citizens pushed back with a long ball from the Druid's Midumu which was chased and won by the No 23 (Lewis Buckley) who let fly a shot that forced the host keeper to save and prevent a 2nd goal. The Cefn Druids came again when a fleet-footed fellow weaved forth and won a corner. The ball was belted in, cleared and commenced a counter-attack led by the Blue-backed No 9 (James Demetriou). He paused too long on the ball and allowed defenders to gather their bearings and, when his pass came to Cayola, the nut that was executed was off target. Another good burst from Bangor saw No 15 (Danny Holmes) denied at the last by a lunging back bod and from here the action petered out with both squads in too much of a rush and failing to find any controlled cohesion. The half-time came, is was a very middling affair thus far.
A Snicker and a shiver for half time, chilled to the marrow we were becoming, come on teams, get us warmed up ya buggers.
The first chance of the second period came the way of the guests, with Shaw having a crack and seeing the ball deflect wide - the corner was easily dealt with, oh crap, not more of the same please. A hectic mush ensued with any definite chances a rare commodity. The ball pinged from end to end, the Cefn Druids cultivated the first eye catching move with rapid passing fervour allowing Buckley to provide a finishing touch. The upright was struck and the goalkeeper was glad to grab the loose globe, Bangor needed to wake up real soon. Luke Wall had a rasp shot flash over and a free-kick on the edge of the Druid box was swung in moments later with the ball going towards the vacant top corner. The mittman was alert and stretched and somehow managed to palm away - good work squire. From here Bangor pressure came, a ball in and a mitter fumble, the gloved guardian was lucky not to see a striker nick a goal. The hosts now played with high intensity and several bonus punts were given and the odd attempt at goal chanced - all though we were lacking any genuine bollocks and time and opportunity slipped by. As the home bods pushed, a chance of a breakaway became highly probable which did happen not long after via the feet of a runner whom I missed the name and number of. By heck he didn't half gallop along and ended up in the opposite box with room to shoot. The finish was idle, it could have full stopped a fine moment, unlucky man, maybe next time! The game ground on, no action of any note came, when the ref blew I had no gripes and opted to select The Cefn Druid's handful, No 23 (Lewis Buckley) the Man of the Match Award due to his selfless running, hefty work-rate and consistently problematical weaving that gave the opponents rear so much to think about - it made more of a difference than what you may think. We buggered off, this wasn't the classic we anticipated, I reckon though we shall be back at some point...and why not?
FINAL THOUGHT - We are getting closer to Bonfire night but there were no fireworks on show here. The fuse was never truly lit and throughout the match one could count the real chances on goal on the hand of a double-fingered amputee - it wasn't high, as you may gather. The Ancients are a good organised squad and will be a real challenge for any team both home and away. Bangor FC have a good set up here and have some players with much zip but, pace is all well and good but if things are overly flustered and time is not taken to make a definite cutting pass then all the running and good will in the world will come to very little. This was a below average match that showcased two sides snuffing out each others potential sparks, next time I demand a few rockets up my arse - oh and some dry feet - did I mention those?
Thursday, 26 October 2017
WITTON WALTZ FORTH
25th October 2017 - Runcorn Town 0 v 2 Witton Albion - Work, home, hoovering, fungus recording, the good lady returned. Tea was exceptional, Ricotta filled pasta covered in pesto with a touch of truffle sauce - what a delicious dish it was. An easy drive was taken to The Pavilions, a cup of cha' was lovely as were the white chocolate cookies I had brought. We picked our spot in the stands, my wife read her book (Papillon - what a classic) and I scribbled these notes and, as they say, 'contemplated the hairs in my navel'. In fact, I have a hairless navel which has me wondering if I am some glabrous exception to the hirsute rule. Is this an abnormality and do I need to pop in to my local BBC (Belly Button Clinic) and seek some sagacious advice? It is all a worry but, hairless or not, my naval can hold as much steel blue fluff as the next man which is surely a positive in any umbillically obsessed circles. Anyway, I digress (again) and to the match we go with another cup clash on the cards, this time as part of the Cheshire Senior Cup. I knew little of the visitors so could come up with no cerebral insight into what may happen, I suggest you read on to find out!
7.45pm, the time for action...and the early play was all in and around the Runcorn box with a shot eventually coming through via the hoof of No 10 (Steve Tames). It was dragged wide but this was a bright commencement by the visiting bods with impressions given of a well drilled and disciplined outfit who look to play tidy football from the back to the front. A swift build up from the Albs came again and stretched the Runcorn pack no end. No 2 (Anthony Gardner) ran well, communicated and provided a low cross. It was a pity any potential takers were absent....we moved on. Gardner made more space with his quick feet and duly dumped a ball into the box, again no frontmen were to be seen in the crucial spot! As the half progressed a period of perspired effort came with little to get worked up about. Witton were the main holders of the command post but Runcorn had the odd hopeful thrust. One particularly promising moment saw a cross drilled across goal with pace but no crusts were there to connect - darn it. Runcorn had a better punt soon after when a throw and a flick allowed No 10 (Mark Reed) to ping one across the goal face and nearly find the far corner of the net - emphasis is placed on nearly by the way! Following this ray of hope for the hosts their guests created a high standard break from one side of the pitch to the other that involved paced passing, sugar sweet touches and sound awareness. The culmination of the move came when Tames struck firm but missed the target - oh you rotten bugger, that could have been some goal. Towards the latter half of this opening period Runcorn got back on a level footing and I did wonder how long it would be before Witton started to get overly frustrated. The referee blew his whistle, we would have to wait for an answer to the previous poser.
Myself and my good lady couldn't be arsed to move from our seats so we chomped a few cookies and awaited the teams to come back out for the second 45 minutes. It seemed like an age, surely the referee wasn't supplying a free-strip show to top up his nightly fee, this shit does happen tha' knows. In fact, I am sure he was wearing lipstick during the first half, or are my anxiety tablets causing fantastical visions again? Or, is this latex thong I am wearing affecting the circulation to the noggin - I knew it was a bad idea!
The teams re-appeared, an early defensive boo-boo by Witton allowed The Town's No 9 (Simon Thelwell) to chance a chip - close but no bacon butty mate. Runcorn came again, a lofted ball into the danger zone and Thelwell again connected, this time with the crust. The goalkeeper was wide awake, the save was made and from the corner the wild shot was way off the bull's-eye. A corner came the other end, the globe glided in, a bonse boomed and the bar was rattled, phew, the tide was rising and it was the players of Runcorn that were in danger of getting the ankles wet. Next, and after the home birds had fallen into the visitors offside mist net, the Albs came and their No 12 had a quality pop and was unlucky to quiver the horizontal - the pressure was now on. Time tickled, Witton rolled forth, No 7 (Micah Evans) danced on the wing, duly crossed and the finish that came was all to easy with the deadlock being broken by the in-rushing No 11 (James Foley). From here, and out of nothing, Witton won a corner. The ball came in, it was cleared but sprayed back across that allowed an unidentified visiting bod to shoot - close and the pressure was still on.
Runcorn scampered like hamsters suffering with anal wasps, a free kick was won, the ball went in and pinged back out with No 7 (Joe Holt) having time to place his shot. Somehow he got too much loft and the ball sailed high over the bar. The game was now an open affair, space was appearing, semi-chances were becoming more frequent. Witton Albion always had the upper hand though and with the final gasps now taking place a long ball fell at the feet of No 10 (Steve Tames) who grabbed, ran at a sharp angle and slotted home with classy ease. The final nail in the coffin was had, even Dracula would do well to rise from the deadened state Runcorn were now in. One last chance did come for the home squad, it was a free-kick and it was awful - the referee ended the Town's misery.
Man of the Match tonight was pondered like an aroused donkey's dongler - long and hard, and I finally opted for Witton Albion's No 6 (Paul Williams) who read the game well, was good in both defensive and midfield duties and supplied many a ball that opened up the inner workings of the opponents. Several players from the same squad caught the eye too, but I am happy with my selection - good one sir!
FINAL THOUGHT - League-wise there isn't too much between the units on show tonight but the evidence exhibited told a different tale. Witton dictated the play and looked to have just a sharper edge, a bit more pace and, quite crucially, a greater balance in the pack. Runcorn weren't at full strength though and despite several cup runs being halted of late they will be a different proposition to all league opponents. Unlike Rigsby's cardigan in Rising Damp, the Runcorn unit have very few holes to penetrate and like Moby Dick's ready rubbed member, they are a mighty handful when all muscles are pumping. Witton Albion have won this competition 11 times since 1902 and who is to say they won't add a 12th title this time around. Provided they stay tight, work as a unit and don't get too distracted by the referee's half time show and tell sessions they will be a hard nut to crack - I wish them well.
7.45pm, the time for action...and the early play was all in and around the Runcorn box with a shot eventually coming through via the hoof of No 10 (Steve Tames). It was dragged wide but this was a bright commencement by the visiting bods with impressions given of a well drilled and disciplined outfit who look to play tidy football from the back to the front. A swift build up from the Albs came again and stretched the Runcorn pack no end. No 2 (Anthony Gardner) ran well, communicated and provided a low cross. It was a pity any potential takers were absent....we moved on. Gardner made more space with his quick feet and duly dumped a ball into the box, again no frontmen were to be seen in the crucial spot! As the half progressed a period of perspired effort came with little to get worked up about. Witton were the main holders of the command post but Runcorn had the odd hopeful thrust. One particularly promising moment saw a cross drilled across goal with pace but no crusts were there to connect - darn it. Runcorn had a better punt soon after when a throw and a flick allowed No 10 (Mark Reed) to ping one across the goal face and nearly find the far corner of the net - emphasis is placed on nearly by the way! Following this ray of hope for the hosts their guests created a high standard break from one side of the pitch to the other that involved paced passing, sugar sweet touches and sound awareness. The culmination of the move came when Tames struck firm but missed the target - oh you rotten bugger, that could have been some goal. Towards the latter half of this opening period Runcorn got back on a level footing and I did wonder how long it would be before Witton started to get overly frustrated. The referee blew his whistle, we would have to wait for an answer to the previous poser.
Myself and my good lady couldn't be arsed to move from our seats so we chomped a few cookies and awaited the teams to come back out for the second 45 minutes. It seemed like an age, surely the referee wasn't supplying a free-strip show to top up his nightly fee, this shit does happen tha' knows. In fact, I am sure he was wearing lipstick during the first half, or are my anxiety tablets causing fantastical visions again? Or, is this latex thong I am wearing affecting the circulation to the noggin - I knew it was a bad idea!
The teams re-appeared, an early defensive boo-boo by Witton allowed The Town's No 9 (Simon Thelwell) to chance a chip - close but no bacon butty mate. Runcorn came again, a lofted ball into the danger zone and Thelwell again connected, this time with the crust. The goalkeeper was wide awake, the save was made and from the corner the wild shot was way off the bull's-eye. A corner came the other end, the globe glided in, a bonse boomed and the bar was rattled, phew, the tide was rising and it was the players of Runcorn that were in danger of getting the ankles wet. Next, and after the home birds had fallen into the visitors offside mist net, the Albs came and their No 12 had a quality pop and was unlucky to quiver the horizontal - the pressure was now on. Time tickled, Witton rolled forth, No 7 (Micah Evans) danced on the wing, duly crossed and the finish that came was all to easy with the deadlock being broken by the in-rushing No 11 (James Foley). From here, and out of nothing, Witton won a corner. The ball came in, it was cleared but sprayed back across that allowed an unidentified visiting bod to shoot - close and the pressure was still on.
Runcorn scampered like hamsters suffering with anal wasps, a free kick was won, the ball went in and pinged back out with No 7 (Joe Holt) having time to place his shot. Somehow he got too much loft and the ball sailed high over the bar. The game was now an open affair, space was appearing, semi-chances were becoming more frequent. Witton Albion always had the upper hand though and with the final gasps now taking place a long ball fell at the feet of No 10 (Steve Tames) who grabbed, ran at a sharp angle and slotted home with classy ease. The final nail in the coffin was had, even Dracula would do well to rise from the deadened state Runcorn were now in. One last chance did come for the home squad, it was a free-kick and it was awful - the referee ended the Town's misery.
Man of the Match tonight was pondered like an aroused donkey's dongler - long and hard, and I finally opted for Witton Albion's No 6 (Paul Williams) who read the game well, was good in both defensive and midfield duties and supplied many a ball that opened up the inner workings of the opponents. Several players from the same squad caught the eye too, but I am happy with my selection - good one sir!
FINAL THOUGHT - League-wise there isn't too much between the units on show tonight but the evidence exhibited told a different tale. Witton dictated the play and looked to have just a sharper edge, a bit more pace and, quite crucially, a greater balance in the pack. Runcorn weren't at full strength though and despite several cup runs being halted of late they will be a different proposition to all league opponents. Unlike Rigsby's cardigan in Rising Damp, the Runcorn unit have very few holes to penetrate and like Moby Dick's ready rubbed member, they are a mighty handful when all muscles are pumping. Witton Albion have won this competition 11 times since 1902 and who is to say they won't add a 12th title this time around. Provided they stay tight, work as a unit and don't get too distracted by the referee's half time show and tell sessions they will be a hard nut to crack - I wish them well.
Wednesday, 25 October 2017
C'UPSET' OR AS PREDICTED
23rd October 2017 - Maine Road 1 v 4 West Didsbury & Chorlton - Fungus time and I am running myself ragged to keep up to speed with leading walks, identifying species and juggling everyday tasks. Today the computer at home went twang and threw a real rusted spanner in the chugging works and with my carcass still suffering from a nagging anxiety and a backlog of recording, CD reviews and such like, I certainly didn't need this techno-twattery in the mix. Fortunately escapism was on the horizon in the form of a local footy game and so, after a quite constructive day (despite the glitches), me and my good lady turned up at Brantingham Road, purchased tea and chocolate, took up our positions and watched the nights events unfold. I am familiar with these two teams and they get a fair few viewings each season. Again, this was a tough one to call, it is all part of the appeal but I did have a sneaky feeling that the guests had it over the home side of late and the trend may continue. So, as the late October air tried to pilfer away any semblance of warmth and the teams entered the fray to commence battle, we peeled the peepers and I came up with a report as thus.
The 1st round of the Manchester Premier Cup was underway, no sooner had we slurped the last of our Rosie Lee than the home army invaded and the ever zippy No 8 (Matthew Morgan) ran like the clappers and provided a low cool finish to whet the appetite for all in attendance. What a start this was and only several seconds had elapsed before an equaliser was nearly borne when a good save and back-up offside decision thwarted any balancing glory. Within the thrutching of an excited anus No 9 (Luke Heron) of The Road was in with only the keeper to beat. The gloved one sprawled and blocked, it was a solid save and duly led to a WDC counter punch that brought further mittman attention. This was a fizzing commencement with both teams happy to surge with abandon. Gradually the guests started applying a pressure with several crosses flying in, all causing a certain amount of in-box kerfuffle. A corner was eventually won, a nut came in, the goalkeeper blocked and dropped, up pounced No 6 (Anthony Potts) and knocked the ball home to make things all square. The Road reacted, some poor defending allowed Heron to have a stab, the save was reliable and the resultant corner tame. The same team now tried to hustle out some weaknesses in their opponents armoury but the Dids-Men are a sturdy side and were inches away from an equaliser when a cross was zipped in and an outstretched toe was millimetres from making a killing blow. There was a change in the air, gird your loins folks, and any other parts you feel need 'gird'ing!
The action was still high, the hosts put in a cross, it was a replicate move of that which had just occurred down t'other end - again an extra inch on the boot size was needed to grab the ultimate glory. Maine Road now asserted themselves with numerous runs of promise and balls played that saw half chances fail to be converted with a needed Midas touch. The game developed into a rapid tussle, the closest to a goal we came was when MR's mittman cleared poorly and a lob came back that rose high, fell slowly and just dropped shy of the upright. From here the game, as a spectacle, dissolved into a fiasco without direction. There was a mayhem creeping in as both units fought for ascendancy. With seconds left I had this down as a stalemate when a hopeful ball in by the WDC mob saw a pilfering take place and an over-zealous, over-stretched keeper commit a foolish faux-pas with no danger apparent. A spot kick was given and taken, Thomas Bailey remained as cool as a dead man's dick and slotted home - 1 -2 - cripes, that was unexpected. There was now less than two ticks on the time device left but it was enough to see the culpable mittman make another howler with a kick that went AWOL and allowed a deflection to go right back into his net. WTF went on, it was anybodies guess but No 12 (Jonathon Poizer) was given the goal. This was a turn-around for sure and when the referee blew for half time one did wonder how the boys in blue would get back into this.
A piddle, some chocolate and a chat with my best mate about the merits of Edgar Degas and the game so far, we like to keep our noggins fresh tha' knows.
Half two and straight away Thomas Bailey of the guests tried a cheeky chip to further confound a rather troubled keeper. The mittman was alert, stretched and tipped over, good lad. The corner brought no success but it was obvious WDC were after more goals. 3 corners and several shots rained in, the heat was all under the host's arse. Morgan of The Road provided a short respite with a run and cross that was a trifle too high for the in-rushing attacker. The visiting choir though would not be quelled and summoned up many touch-line serenades to warm their cockles and even raise a smile from the opposing ranks. Maine Road needed a miracle, alas it was not to be as the visiting No 7 (Ben Steer) cut in, beat 2 players shot and the ball was hammered home by Bailey again, his second, his team's fourth, game over.
It was all one way traffic now, Maine Road were left to try and pick up the odd morsel and make a surprise comeback cake. They cultivated a rare glimpse of goal, a cross and a close in header was met by a stunning save, it was the night of the black and white army for sure. A settling down period game, Morgan for the Blues had a chance punt. The ball bent and wasn't too far off the mark but a heavy slice of skill, topped with lashing of luck would be needed to turn this into anything palatable for the home team. Tis a pity the lovechild of Charlie George and the Galloping Gourmet Graham Kerr wasn't on the bench - I bet he could have rustled something up! As WDC stood proud and firm (oooh vicar), Maine Road became flaccid and desperate (call the perverted parson please) and the game wound down in tired style. An offside decision against the guests and then a red card for Road's No 10 (Connor Hughes), the final insult and we were done, What a good win for the short distance travellers and, it is there, that I pick my Man of the Match, namely their No 10 (Joe Shaw) who, despite the odd stray pass worked like a warhorse, made many correct decisions and was always in the mix of the action. A subtle but strong performance.
FINAL THOUGHT - A local derby and only one team in it despite an early goal against the grain. Maine Road cut their own throats tonight via the unrestrained blade of the mittman who committed hara-kiri and put his team in the mire. Shit happens like this and the dude of disaster does play a dangerous game at times. Do not sweat lad, dig in, cool the blood and set thy targets on some low-brow, good old fashioned safety first clean sheets - you are better than what happened tonight for sure. West Didsbury and Chorlton are always value for money and play with a good tempo and a well-supported belief. They are always capable of a good cup run and this could be the start of one. Both teams have their destinies in their hands and as Benny Hill once said 'hold yer plums, clench yer bums and have no fear when a challenge comes' - or was it Arnold Ridley of Dad's Army fame? Crikey, this game is really getting to me. Anyway, you get the drift...one hopes!
The 1st round of the Manchester Premier Cup was underway, no sooner had we slurped the last of our Rosie Lee than the home army invaded and the ever zippy No 8 (Matthew Morgan) ran like the clappers and provided a low cool finish to whet the appetite for all in attendance. What a start this was and only several seconds had elapsed before an equaliser was nearly borne when a good save and back-up offside decision thwarted any balancing glory. Within the thrutching of an excited anus No 9 (Luke Heron) of The Road was in with only the keeper to beat. The gloved one sprawled and blocked, it was a solid save and duly led to a WDC counter punch that brought further mittman attention. This was a fizzing commencement with both teams happy to surge with abandon. Gradually the guests started applying a pressure with several crosses flying in, all causing a certain amount of in-box kerfuffle. A corner was eventually won, a nut came in, the goalkeeper blocked and dropped, up pounced No 6 (Anthony Potts) and knocked the ball home to make things all square. The Road reacted, some poor defending allowed Heron to have a stab, the save was reliable and the resultant corner tame. The same team now tried to hustle out some weaknesses in their opponents armoury but the Dids-Men are a sturdy side and were inches away from an equaliser when a cross was zipped in and an outstretched toe was millimetres from making a killing blow. There was a change in the air, gird your loins folks, and any other parts you feel need 'gird'ing!
The action was still high, the hosts put in a cross, it was a replicate move of that which had just occurred down t'other end - again an extra inch on the boot size was needed to grab the ultimate glory. Maine Road now asserted themselves with numerous runs of promise and balls played that saw half chances fail to be converted with a needed Midas touch. The game developed into a rapid tussle, the closest to a goal we came was when MR's mittman cleared poorly and a lob came back that rose high, fell slowly and just dropped shy of the upright. From here the game, as a spectacle, dissolved into a fiasco without direction. There was a mayhem creeping in as both units fought for ascendancy. With seconds left I had this down as a stalemate when a hopeful ball in by the WDC mob saw a pilfering take place and an over-zealous, over-stretched keeper commit a foolish faux-pas with no danger apparent. A spot kick was given and taken, Thomas Bailey remained as cool as a dead man's dick and slotted home - 1 -2 - cripes, that was unexpected. There was now less than two ticks on the time device left but it was enough to see the culpable mittman make another howler with a kick that went AWOL and allowed a deflection to go right back into his net. WTF went on, it was anybodies guess but No 12 (Jonathon Poizer) was given the goal. This was a turn-around for sure and when the referee blew for half time one did wonder how the boys in blue would get back into this.
A piddle, some chocolate and a chat with my best mate about the merits of Edgar Degas and the game so far, we like to keep our noggins fresh tha' knows.
Half two and straight away Thomas Bailey of the guests tried a cheeky chip to further confound a rather troubled keeper. The mittman was alert, stretched and tipped over, good lad. The corner brought no success but it was obvious WDC were after more goals. 3 corners and several shots rained in, the heat was all under the host's arse. Morgan of The Road provided a short respite with a run and cross that was a trifle too high for the in-rushing attacker. The visiting choir though would not be quelled and summoned up many touch-line serenades to warm their cockles and even raise a smile from the opposing ranks. Maine Road needed a miracle, alas it was not to be as the visiting No 7 (Ben Steer) cut in, beat 2 players shot and the ball was hammered home by Bailey again, his second, his team's fourth, game over.
It was all one way traffic now, Maine Road were left to try and pick up the odd morsel and make a surprise comeback cake. They cultivated a rare glimpse of goal, a cross and a close in header was met by a stunning save, it was the night of the black and white army for sure. A settling down period game, Morgan for the Blues had a chance punt. The ball bent and wasn't too far off the mark but a heavy slice of skill, topped with lashing of luck would be needed to turn this into anything palatable for the home team. Tis a pity the lovechild of Charlie George and the Galloping Gourmet Graham Kerr wasn't on the bench - I bet he could have rustled something up! As WDC stood proud and firm (oooh vicar), Maine Road became flaccid and desperate (call the perverted parson please) and the game wound down in tired style. An offside decision against the guests and then a red card for Road's No 10 (Connor Hughes), the final insult and we were done, What a good win for the short distance travellers and, it is there, that I pick my Man of the Match, namely their No 10 (Joe Shaw) who, despite the odd stray pass worked like a warhorse, made many correct decisions and was always in the mix of the action. A subtle but strong performance.
FINAL THOUGHT - A local derby and only one team in it despite an early goal against the grain. Maine Road cut their own throats tonight via the unrestrained blade of the mittman who committed hara-kiri and put his team in the mire. Shit happens like this and the dude of disaster does play a dangerous game at times. Do not sweat lad, dig in, cool the blood and set thy targets on some low-brow, good old fashioned safety first clean sheets - you are better than what happened tonight for sure. West Didsbury and Chorlton are always value for money and play with a good tempo and a well-supported belief. They are always capable of a good cup run and this could be the start of one. Both teams have their destinies in their hands and as Benny Hill once said 'hold yer plums, clench yer bums and have no fear when a challenge comes' - or was it Arnold Ridley of Dad's Army fame? Crikey, this game is really getting to me. Anyway, you get the drift...one hopes!
Thursday, 19 October 2017
GUTS, GONADS AND GOALS
17th October 2017 - Atherton LR 0 v 4 Carlisle City - The season is now settling down and we are getting into the autumnal grind out when the leaves fall and so do teams on a bad roll, and the wind blows as do the arses of fans who have already overdone it on the pie and peas. One good thing about the cooling weather is that it stops the John Inman look-a-like next door from bothering me. It seems certain parts of his anatomy don't function too well when the thermals are low, which is just as well, as neither do mine - ooh Mr Peacock. Myself and my lovely lady arrived in good time and made straight for the booth that brings delights to those clemmed and parched. Tea and chocolate it was, darn this non-league footy diet, I am certainly losing no poundage this season, I hope the tapeworm I ordered arrives soon and I can get someone to help ram it up the jacksie - it comes with a 12 month guarantee and assures me that the pounds will drop - well either the pounds or me own anus. We took up our positions and chomped and slurped and watched the usual warm-up going's on. This was a tough cookie to call, I was keeping my pecker of prophecy well and truly tucked away tonight. 7.45pm came, kick off was had, my notes were taken and here is the outcome.
No sooner had the globe of leather got rotating than the home army had a chance when their immediately industrious No 10 (Ashley Woodhead) worked an opening with some fine in-box control. The shot was firm but dragged wide of the goal, it could have been a real early sting in the rear for the long travelling guests. A free-kick came in response, a bout of minor fuss ensued when a touch of head tennis was finalised in a looping header goalward that was so close to going over the keepers mitts. A bit more luck and we could have already had 2 goals on the card. Carlisle were struggling to get an early grip on this one though as the ALR crew were keeping them on the back peg. Several shots and a free-kick for the home side came to zilch but the visitors needed to wake up and start finding a way back in. Eventually a foothold was had, a brace of free-punts were earned, the second of which was delivered with pace and scalped the head of the incoming No 9 (Michael Slack) - better for sure. Next and it was the host side who conjured up a fine link up move via No 9 (Ryan Mellor) and Woodhead with the one-two seeing the latter player shoot in a rushed and wayward style. No 11 (Jordan Arklie-Young) and No 7 (George McInery) combined next with the latter screaming in disappointment after his shot was nothing less than dreadful. Carlisle had a crack themselves, their Captain was the hoofer but only found the side netting. This one was warming up nicely and all we now needed was a breakthrough. Arklie-Young for ALR came next, a smart turn but another tame finish. Oh the frustrations!
Carlisle were now on level terms here and nearly broke the deadlock when a rocketing shot wobbled the bar in no uncertain terms. A free-kick to the same team followed, it was delivered low and with spite. Several players slid in, semi-contact was made, the goalkeeper mopped up the danger with decent ease. Atherton reacted to the come back via a fine long ball from No 5 (Jack Taylor) that allowed No 3 (Christian Grundy) to chase and cross. A corner was the result but the wastage that came was not what the bench ordered - a deflating end result for sure. Again ALR were on the march when Mellor displayed quick feet and broke like a fart on an elastic (it happens) and flicked a shot with the outside of his foot. The reaction save that followed was top notch and kept Carlisle in the frame. Within seconds Mellor was in again, a low shot came and the mitter sprawled. Enough contact was made by the spreading carcass to see the ball deflected inches wide - unlucky sir, you deserved more. Shortly after this chance all hope and promise was undone as the home goalkeeper kicked recklessly and put the ball into touch, Carlisle took the bonus throw in, were quick off the mark and managed to force a foul. The referee was in no doubt and pointed to the spot - this was a shocker. Josh Simpson stepped up, he rattled the ball home, this game was on its head. If this didn't set alarm bells ringing for the home team then when No 6 (Daniel Greenslade) of Carlisle streaked down the flank, cut in and shot things must have surely resonated that all was not going to plan. The shot was blocked, the defenders were slow off the mark and another effort was banged in and bulged the net, Aaron Bradbury take a bow. The ref blew shortly after, the result at half time came as a surprise to all, who knew where this one was going?
Tea and crisps, a chat and ready for the next 45 minutes. We had been treated to a good competitive contest so far, more of the same please.
A brace of early corners for Carlisle commenced the second period, the latter punt was nutted in and somehow stopped on the line - an early let off and Atherton were looking at an uphill struggle in every sense of the word. Another Carlisle corner followed, the defending was lax and the goalkeeper trotted out. The result, a looping header by Michael Slack and the target found - 0 - 3 and the game almost out of reach. An indirect free-kick was awarded next for a dubious incident. The home team were now disjointed in the extreme and when the free punt was touched, kicked and curled by Josh Simpson we were suddenly, and totally unexpectedly, at 0 - 4 with no way back for the hosts. Carlisle were quicker, keener and hungrier and working as a unit with all areas whipped up for the task at hand. Atherton pushed, a shot via a free-kick was shocking and the team kept running hard but ending up in one blind alley after another with communication not working. Counterpunches came, No 8 (Josh Simpson) of Carlisle had a shot fly just over before Atherton conjured a shot that was saved with ease. Another Carlisle attack, No 14 in, the shot looked destined to bring up the fifth but ran wide off the mark - Atherton were on a knife edge and being garrotted as Carlisle were still hungry for more. No 4 (Matthew Read) came nex. He was released with precision and he had time to spare, again a miss was had, this was now getting painful to witness. A brace of late Laburnumised shots were had, the keeper parried one the other went high, and when a few late crosses followed too it was all to no avail and the hosts just had to accept it wasn't their night. The ref put them out of their misery soon after but one must congratulate Carlisle though on their astounding efforts. Man of the Match, wow, now there's a question but Carlisle's No 3 (Aaron Bradbury) put in a good showing and worked well in all areas of the park. Several effective runs, tidy passes and an 100% commitment caught the eye - well worth the pick.
FINAL THOUGHT - Well I will say this, you would be wiser trusting TV chef Antony Worral Thompson near your local supermarket cheese counter than placing a bet on these Non-league matches, they are totally unpredictable and no matter how hard I try to contemplate the outcome I always end up...surprised. Carlisle were resilient tonight and stuck at their task with good desire and a noggin down determination. Atherton started well, they ran out of ideas and were hustled out of their comfort zone, they need to stop this from happening again in future. Like testes tucked in a pair of padded speedos, both these units will be safe and sound come the end bell next year but, if they don't make sure all is attended to the odd ball may land in an awkward spot and cost them points aplenty. Take note of the harvest festival and make sure all is safely gathered in, that way, the potatoes of success will remain in tact!
No sooner had the globe of leather got rotating than the home army had a chance when their immediately industrious No 10 (Ashley Woodhead) worked an opening with some fine in-box control. The shot was firm but dragged wide of the goal, it could have been a real early sting in the rear for the long travelling guests. A free-kick came in response, a bout of minor fuss ensued when a touch of head tennis was finalised in a looping header goalward that was so close to going over the keepers mitts. A bit more luck and we could have already had 2 goals on the card. Carlisle were struggling to get an early grip on this one though as the ALR crew were keeping them on the back peg. Several shots and a free-kick for the home side came to zilch but the visitors needed to wake up and start finding a way back in. Eventually a foothold was had, a brace of free-punts were earned, the second of which was delivered with pace and scalped the head of the incoming No 9 (Michael Slack) - better for sure. Next and it was the host side who conjured up a fine link up move via No 9 (Ryan Mellor) and Woodhead with the one-two seeing the latter player shoot in a rushed and wayward style. No 11 (Jordan Arklie-Young) and No 7 (George McInery) combined next with the latter screaming in disappointment after his shot was nothing less than dreadful. Carlisle had a crack themselves, their Captain was the hoofer but only found the side netting. This one was warming up nicely and all we now needed was a breakthrough. Arklie-Young for ALR came next, a smart turn but another tame finish. Oh the frustrations!
Carlisle were now on level terms here and nearly broke the deadlock when a rocketing shot wobbled the bar in no uncertain terms. A free-kick to the same team followed, it was delivered low and with spite. Several players slid in, semi-contact was made, the goalkeeper mopped up the danger with decent ease. Atherton reacted to the come back via a fine long ball from No 5 (Jack Taylor) that allowed No 3 (Christian Grundy) to chase and cross. A corner was the result but the wastage that came was not what the bench ordered - a deflating end result for sure. Again ALR were on the march when Mellor displayed quick feet and broke like a fart on an elastic (it happens) and flicked a shot with the outside of his foot. The reaction save that followed was top notch and kept Carlisle in the frame. Within seconds Mellor was in again, a low shot came and the mitter sprawled. Enough contact was made by the spreading carcass to see the ball deflected inches wide - unlucky sir, you deserved more. Shortly after this chance all hope and promise was undone as the home goalkeeper kicked recklessly and put the ball into touch, Carlisle took the bonus throw in, were quick off the mark and managed to force a foul. The referee was in no doubt and pointed to the spot - this was a shocker. Josh Simpson stepped up, he rattled the ball home, this game was on its head. If this didn't set alarm bells ringing for the home team then when No 6 (Daniel Greenslade) of Carlisle streaked down the flank, cut in and shot things must have surely resonated that all was not going to plan. The shot was blocked, the defenders were slow off the mark and another effort was banged in and bulged the net, Aaron Bradbury take a bow. The ref blew shortly after, the result at half time came as a surprise to all, who knew where this one was going?
Tea and crisps, a chat and ready for the next 45 minutes. We had been treated to a good competitive contest so far, more of the same please.
A brace of early corners for Carlisle commenced the second period, the latter punt was nutted in and somehow stopped on the line - an early let off and Atherton were looking at an uphill struggle in every sense of the word. Another Carlisle corner followed, the defending was lax and the goalkeeper trotted out. The result, a looping header by Michael Slack and the target found - 0 - 3 and the game almost out of reach. An indirect free-kick was awarded next for a dubious incident. The home team were now disjointed in the extreme and when the free punt was touched, kicked and curled by Josh Simpson we were suddenly, and totally unexpectedly, at 0 - 4 with no way back for the hosts. Carlisle were quicker, keener and hungrier and working as a unit with all areas whipped up for the task at hand. Atherton pushed, a shot via a free-kick was shocking and the team kept running hard but ending up in one blind alley after another with communication not working. Counterpunches came, No 8 (Josh Simpson) of Carlisle had a shot fly just over before Atherton conjured a shot that was saved with ease. Another Carlisle attack, No 14 in, the shot looked destined to bring up the fifth but ran wide off the mark - Atherton were on a knife edge and being garrotted as Carlisle were still hungry for more. No 4 (Matthew Read) came nex. He was released with precision and he had time to spare, again a miss was had, this was now getting painful to witness. A brace of late Laburnumised shots were had, the keeper parried one the other went high, and when a few late crosses followed too it was all to no avail and the hosts just had to accept it wasn't their night. The ref put them out of their misery soon after but one must congratulate Carlisle though on their astounding efforts. Man of the Match, wow, now there's a question but Carlisle's No 3 (Aaron Bradbury) put in a good showing and worked well in all areas of the park. Several effective runs, tidy passes and an 100% commitment caught the eye - well worth the pick.
FINAL THOUGHT - Well I will say this, you would be wiser trusting TV chef Antony Worral Thompson near your local supermarket cheese counter than placing a bet on these Non-league matches, they are totally unpredictable and no matter how hard I try to contemplate the outcome I always end up...surprised. Carlisle were resilient tonight and stuck at their task with good desire and a noggin down determination. Atherton started well, they ran out of ideas and were hustled out of their comfort zone, they need to stop this from happening again in future. Like testes tucked in a pair of padded speedos, both these units will be safe and sound come the end bell next year but, if they don't make sure all is attended to the odd ball may land in an awkward spot and cost them points aplenty. Take note of the harvest festival and make sure all is safely gathered in, that way, the potatoes of success will remain in tact!
Sunday, 15 October 2017
TOP, BOTTOM, THE LINES ARE BLURRED
14th October 2017 - Burscough FC 0 v 1 Runcorn Linnets - I am suffering form anxiety at the moment, it happens when one is passionate about so many things and struggles to cope with many everyday niggles. Despite this I keep my arse in gear and the morn was spent at Formby NT leading a group of 26 people on a fungus hunt. 66 species were named and shamed and the sun that beat down was ruddy well enjoyed too. We turned up at Victoria Park full of spores and covered in crud but that didn't stop us grabbing a bite to eat, a cup of cha' and settling down to enjoy the pre-match build up. We chatted with the dad of Burscough player Hyun Seol and chomped and slurped with zeal after building up a good appetite out in the field. The sun shone, we were looking forward to this one, what a fine way to unwind - better than spending a day behind closed doors with a .copy of Quasimodo's Love Tales - all that humping is bad for the head don't ya know! Anyway before I digress too much and have the authorities at my door again, here is the report!
The game began in earnest and a long ball from a Linnets back bod saw their No 10 (Freddie Potter) begin a hardy chase. He was vulgarly tripped, the away fans crudely shouted for a sending off but for me, the referee was bang on with his delivery of a yellow, the legs were still cold, a mistake is easy to commit in the first few seconds. No 7 (Paul Shanley) took the bonus hoof, not bad but, like a Christian at a FIFA board meeting, it wasn't bent enough. With a few ticks on the clock Potter was in again when he crossed and an awkward bounce of the ball beat the defender and allowed No 9 (Stuart Wellstead) to produce an off-balance header. Alas power was lacking to trouble the netman. Burscough now responded with their robust No 5 (Alex Parkes) who had a determined long range punt. The ball flew over but it was worth a crack if only to relieve some early pressure. Soon after the Linnets flocked forth again, 2 quick passes came, a cross and a low header by Potter was the end result - straight at the mitter the globe flew. Burscough repaid the attack when their No 11 (Terry Cummings) started a move that saw No 7 (Prince Ekpolo) pass to No 8 (Hyun Seol) who shot but found sky rather than mesh. It was a neatly worked move and showed that the lower positioned side in this affair were far from being overawed.
Next and a streaking Runcorn move saw No 3 (Aaron Morris), find No 2 (Matt Atherton) who found Shanley who eventually connected with Potter. The final shot missed and denied us all one helluva memorable goal. Unlucky chaps, it could have been a stunner. Soon after No 6 (Michael Simpson) shot after a ball was retrieved from a seemingly lost situation. Again the target was not found with the ball being dragged wide - what a good entertaining half though. A brace of corners now came for Burscough as well as a free kick after their impressive No 9 (Liam Diggle) worked his arse off. Nothing came of all three punts but it was all promising stuff to build upon. Next, and a guest long ball found Shanley who worked the flank and crossed. The balding pate of Wellstead connected and a groan of disbelief went up from the crowd as the crossbar was rattled. Up the other end and a defender was robbed and Ekpolo was in. He was a long way out and saw the mittman off his line but the chip was too low and easily grabbed by the gloved guardian. Runcorn were straight back, Wellstead through, goalkeeper in no mans land. The shot came, where the hell did the mitter come from, his digit tips just did enough to deny the first strike. Great effort man. Another visitors attack, Shanley down like a sack of shit, a free kick given. The sack must have been torn during the collision because the free kick was also shite - it happens. Soon after this, the Linnets frustrations spilled over and the Burscough lads reacted too. A bout of pushing and shoving came which the ref did well to quell. It is just as well, because once the sequins come off the handbags they can be quite dangerous to play on. The match duly resumed.
Burscough came on as Runcorn got niggled. Seol crossed, Ekpolo was only feet away from goal - how he knocked it so high into the sky is anyone's guess, a bad blunder for sure. A free kick was earned by the home lads, once again via the handful that is Diggle. The ball came in, Ekpolo shot again and once more blazed high. Two chances, both wasted and one felt these situations may come back to haunt the home squad later in the game. Before the half folded the Linnets had one last clump at goal, No 8 (Kyle Hamid) though was wasteful and missed in elaborate style. The referee called the half to a close and what a good thrilling 45 minutes it had been.
A quick Arthur Bliss, a slurp and a natter, this one could still go anyway - a bit like my urine when I get up in the night and aim at the bowl with lidded eyes - they don't call me Fungal '3 jets' Dave for nowt!
Back at it, an early show from Potter of the Linnets warmed the goalies hands and set the tempo rolling. Burscough were just doing enough to deny their opponents any time on the ball, the work rate was impressive. This was end to end stuff with a Burscough penalty shout thrown in the mix and several Linnets attacks denied at the last by some stout defending - what good value and all and sundry were lapping it up. As the match looked balanced a ball from the pack came the way of the guests. Potter floated an impeccable cross into the box and Mitchell Bryant tupped home with controlled ease. From here the Linnets sung and surged with No 6 (Michael Simpson) sinking one in the goalies guts and then Potter doing the same after showing good strength to gain a shooting position. A Linnets corner posed danger, the ball was trapped on the line and eventually cleared. Both teams now worked with urgency, Burscough moved forth but lacked options and space up front, Linnets worked the other end with Shanley a menace but not having any luck today and being kept securely at bay. A late on corner for the guests saw a touch header ping wide and a bit of late Burscough pressure saw things dissolve at the very last when a gamble, a hopeful run and some last ditch commitment was needed. The game balanced itself out, the ref called for time, despite this being an encounter between a team at the top and one in the dungeon it was a mighty close affair and was up for grabs right until the death. Both teams supplied many good performances today but for Man of the Match I feel as though I have to go for Runcorn Linnet's No 10 (Freddie Potter) who was intelligent, strong, willing and skillful throughout his time on the pitch and is the man who may just help his team win this much sought after promotion. I was really taken by this guy's efforts, long may they continue.
FINAL THOUGHT - Two teams, one striving for top spot, one trying to avoid being bottom of the pack - who would have thought it! Let's face it, Runcorn Linnets are a good well run club who always do well and will have a good season no matter what, they will be in the mix at the end and will fight right up until the wire. Burscough are better than what their league position says and today I thought they deserved at least a draw. Several players worked well, were up for the challenge and gave 110% right up until the final peep of the whistle, all that was lacking was a bit of luck. We headed home after this one delighted with our jaunt and vowed to be back again. We thanked a Burscough bod from the bench and tootled home, we vowed to be back, and why not indeed, what a great ground it is!
The game began in earnest and a long ball from a Linnets back bod saw their No 10 (Freddie Potter) begin a hardy chase. He was vulgarly tripped, the away fans crudely shouted for a sending off but for me, the referee was bang on with his delivery of a yellow, the legs were still cold, a mistake is easy to commit in the first few seconds. No 7 (Paul Shanley) took the bonus hoof, not bad but, like a Christian at a FIFA board meeting, it wasn't bent enough. With a few ticks on the clock Potter was in again when he crossed and an awkward bounce of the ball beat the defender and allowed No 9 (Stuart Wellstead) to produce an off-balance header. Alas power was lacking to trouble the netman. Burscough now responded with their robust No 5 (Alex Parkes) who had a determined long range punt. The ball flew over but it was worth a crack if only to relieve some early pressure. Soon after the Linnets flocked forth again, 2 quick passes came, a cross and a low header by Potter was the end result - straight at the mitter the globe flew. Burscough repaid the attack when their No 11 (Terry Cummings) started a move that saw No 7 (Prince Ekpolo) pass to No 8 (Hyun Seol) who shot but found sky rather than mesh. It was a neatly worked move and showed that the lower positioned side in this affair were far from being overawed.
Next and a streaking Runcorn move saw No 3 (Aaron Morris), find No 2 (Matt Atherton) who found Shanley who eventually connected with Potter. The final shot missed and denied us all one helluva memorable goal. Unlucky chaps, it could have been a stunner. Soon after No 6 (Michael Simpson) shot after a ball was retrieved from a seemingly lost situation. Again the target was not found with the ball being dragged wide - what a good entertaining half though. A brace of corners now came for Burscough as well as a free kick after their impressive No 9 (Liam Diggle) worked his arse off. Nothing came of all three punts but it was all promising stuff to build upon. Next, and a guest long ball found Shanley who worked the flank and crossed. The balding pate of Wellstead connected and a groan of disbelief went up from the crowd as the crossbar was rattled. Up the other end and a defender was robbed and Ekpolo was in. He was a long way out and saw the mittman off his line but the chip was too low and easily grabbed by the gloved guardian. Runcorn were straight back, Wellstead through, goalkeeper in no mans land. The shot came, where the hell did the mitter come from, his digit tips just did enough to deny the first strike. Great effort man. Another visitors attack, Shanley down like a sack of shit, a free kick given. The sack must have been torn during the collision because the free kick was also shite - it happens. Soon after this, the Linnets frustrations spilled over and the Burscough lads reacted too. A bout of pushing and shoving came which the ref did well to quell. It is just as well, because once the sequins come off the handbags they can be quite dangerous to play on. The match duly resumed.
Burscough came on as Runcorn got niggled. Seol crossed, Ekpolo was only feet away from goal - how he knocked it so high into the sky is anyone's guess, a bad blunder for sure. A free kick was earned by the home lads, once again via the handful that is Diggle. The ball came in, Ekpolo shot again and once more blazed high. Two chances, both wasted and one felt these situations may come back to haunt the home squad later in the game. Before the half folded the Linnets had one last clump at goal, No 8 (Kyle Hamid) though was wasteful and missed in elaborate style. The referee called the half to a close and what a good thrilling 45 minutes it had been.
A quick Arthur Bliss, a slurp and a natter, this one could still go anyway - a bit like my urine when I get up in the night and aim at the bowl with lidded eyes - they don't call me Fungal '3 jets' Dave for nowt!
Back at it, an early show from Potter of the Linnets warmed the goalies hands and set the tempo rolling. Burscough were just doing enough to deny their opponents any time on the ball, the work rate was impressive. This was end to end stuff with a Burscough penalty shout thrown in the mix and several Linnets attacks denied at the last by some stout defending - what good value and all and sundry were lapping it up. As the match looked balanced a ball from the pack came the way of the guests. Potter floated an impeccable cross into the box and Mitchell Bryant tupped home with controlled ease. From here the Linnets sung and surged with No 6 (Michael Simpson) sinking one in the goalies guts and then Potter doing the same after showing good strength to gain a shooting position. A Linnets corner posed danger, the ball was trapped on the line and eventually cleared. Both teams now worked with urgency, Burscough moved forth but lacked options and space up front, Linnets worked the other end with Shanley a menace but not having any luck today and being kept securely at bay. A late on corner for the guests saw a touch header ping wide and a bit of late Burscough pressure saw things dissolve at the very last when a gamble, a hopeful run and some last ditch commitment was needed. The game balanced itself out, the ref called for time, despite this being an encounter between a team at the top and one in the dungeon it was a mighty close affair and was up for grabs right until the death. Both teams supplied many good performances today but for Man of the Match I feel as though I have to go for Runcorn Linnet's No 10 (Freddie Potter) who was intelligent, strong, willing and skillful throughout his time on the pitch and is the man who may just help his team win this much sought after promotion. I was really taken by this guy's efforts, long may they continue.
FINAL THOUGHT - Two teams, one striving for top spot, one trying to avoid being bottom of the pack - who would have thought it! Let's face it, Runcorn Linnets are a good well run club who always do well and will have a good season no matter what, they will be in the mix at the end and will fight right up until the wire. Burscough are better than what their league position says and today I thought they deserved at least a draw. Several players worked well, were up for the challenge and gave 110% right up until the final peep of the whistle, all that was lacking was a bit of luck. We headed home after this one delighted with our jaunt and vowed to be back again. We thanked a Burscough bod from the bench and tootled home, we vowed to be back, and why not indeed, what a great ground it is!
Wednesday, 11 October 2017
A DRAW BEST CLOSED
10th October 2017 - Abbey Hey 1 v 1 AFC Darwen - I am on a downer at the moment but am resisting the blues and trying to keep active and occupied. The day at work had been busy, my tea of pasta and kippers was hardly thrilling and I had a backlog of CD reviews, natural history lists, household chores and general bits and pieces to keep me busy for a good few months (with more piling on top). Tis all self-inflicted but, rather than stop in and dwell in the doldrums, myself and my good lady headed to another match and wished for a good entertaining pick-me-up. We arrived, had some tea and crisps and took up our positions in the clement night air. Not bad for an October evening and we hoped to be warmed further by a darn good footballing treat - oh what misdirected fools we were.
The match started in fizzing fashion with both teams going at it like their lives depended on it. Darwen displayed an early threat towards their opponents goal but the No 4 (Lee Wilshaw) kept a cool head in a cauldron of heat and cleared any danger. Abbey Hey had early corners and a free-kick, Darwen had a couple of corners too - all lacked quality execution and from here all we witnessed was lots of huff and puff with very little penetration, just like the love life of Arthur Mullard I am told. Darwen won 3 corners on the bounce, all to no avail but shortly after this the Abbey Hey No 9 (Peter Watling) was allowed to get through the rear pack and launch a shot. The shot was poor and lacking pace. Onwards things went, with the killer touch from both sides about as dangerous as a Teddy Bear with a banana. A few calm heads were needed to try and find some time and open a few swinging doors. At last Darwen strung together several passing sequences and threw in a couple of crosses that had decent threat levels. The Hey Brigade though got the odd leg and other body part in the way and foiled any chance of success. Again the guests came, No 8 (Matthew Allen) wiggling and wriggling and firing goalward. The keeper blocked with little fuss and turned the ball around for a corner. The ball was swung in, the keeper was beat on his near post, a howler sounded, Darwen were somehow one goal to the good. I suppose credit should go to the hoofer, but this one goes down as an own goal, tragic indeed.
Abbey Hey were now like the trouser belt of Garth Crooks, under extreme pressure, and when No 7 (Mohammed Jabeel) of Darwen produced a shot on the turn, the home lads were lucky not to be 2 down by the break. The hosts wasted several corners and a long range shot displayed desperation whereas Darwen were a little more accurate and No 4 (Karl Turner) was unlucky when his tidy shot was duly tipped over the bar. Abbey Hey did produced the move of the match thus far with some swift interplay allowing a shot that found the net. Offside was the result and as the half drew to a close no incident of excitement arose. It was a duff contest thus far, thank goodness for a bit of chocolate and the good company I keep.
The teams came out for half the second, the temperature had dropped a degree or two, we needed a tonic to keep icy boredom at bay. Things began as they left off with a scampering frenzy lacking control. No 3 (Seydou Bamba), No 8 (Matthew Allen) and No 9 (Ryan McKenna) of Darwen constructed the first notable move with the latter bod only firing straight at the keeper. The same team came again with the pink booted No 10 (Chappy Massamba) shaking the side netting and making sure Abbey Hey were on their toes. Within seconds another fine Darwen ball was lobbed forth, all the striker had to do was finish matters. No 3 (Jack Tinning) of Abbey Hey produced a quality tackle and surely deserved the applause of his teammates after the game. As passions rose a Darwen chase was on and a clatter came with a visiting frontman and the home keeper. Heads came together, a nutting gesture was made - it seemed worse than what it was but it was deserved of an early dip, get the bubble bath ready, the Hey goalkeeper has been told to leave the field of play. From here, and with 10 men, the hosts played their best football of the night and exerted a tough will that saw them create numerous half chances. One of these chances caused madness in the Darwen box, a penalty shout arose from the melee and the ball was loose. Up stepped the cool No 11 (Rhys Webb) and slotted home, talk about playing a 'get out of jail free' card. Darwen now responded, 3 shots came, Tinning defended well, the game was ablaze, things were getting tetchy. We had waited all night for this, and now the referee decided time was up - what a ruddy rotter. I was left to ponder the Man of the Match at this point, it wasn't hard as No 5 (Adam Douglas) of Darwen was the most organised, controlled and insightful customer on the pitch and governed the back line and made sure shape was always kept - I think he deserves my humble nod.
FINAL THOUGHT - If both teams continue to fly around the pitch as they did tonight and throw veritable caution to the wind then it will be a season of many ups and many downs. Football is an art-form best conducted in a fashion that has a certain control and a certain insight. If Barcelona play with something akin to the flowing natural works of Renoir, what we got tonight was sheer Pollockonian mayhem that had the odd eye-catching splash of skill but was, in the main, a messy spectacle. Both teams are better than this, I thing a bit of pre-match Valium may help and of course a bit of DIY yoga at half-time to get things more levelled out. I do like my visit to Abbey Hey though and will be back time and again watching how they are faring and doing my review. I apologise if I have seemed a trifle negative during this one but with tennis elbow, a sensitive nose and an aversion to having dirty nails, I refuse to try and polish a turd.
The match started in fizzing fashion with both teams going at it like their lives depended on it. Darwen displayed an early threat towards their opponents goal but the No 4 (Lee Wilshaw) kept a cool head in a cauldron of heat and cleared any danger. Abbey Hey had early corners and a free-kick, Darwen had a couple of corners too - all lacked quality execution and from here all we witnessed was lots of huff and puff with very little penetration, just like the love life of Arthur Mullard I am told. Darwen won 3 corners on the bounce, all to no avail but shortly after this the Abbey Hey No 9 (Peter Watling) was allowed to get through the rear pack and launch a shot. The shot was poor and lacking pace. Onwards things went, with the killer touch from both sides about as dangerous as a Teddy Bear with a banana. A few calm heads were needed to try and find some time and open a few swinging doors. At last Darwen strung together several passing sequences and threw in a couple of crosses that had decent threat levels. The Hey Brigade though got the odd leg and other body part in the way and foiled any chance of success. Again the guests came, No 8 (Matthew Allen) wiggling and wriggling and firing goalward. The keeper blocked with little fuss and turned the ball around for a corner. The ball was swung in, the keeper was beat on his near post, a howler sounded, Darwen were somehow one goal to the good. I suppose credit should go to the hoofer, but this one goes down as an own goal, tragic indeed.
Abbey Hey were now like the trouser belt of Garth Crooks, under extreme pressure, and when No 7 (Mohammed Jabeel) of Darwen produced a shot on the turn, the home lads were lucky not to be 2 down by the break. The hosts wasted several corners and a long range shot displayed desperation whereas Darwen were a little more accurate and No 4 (Karl Turner) was unlucky when his tidy shot was duly tipped over the bar. Abbey Hey did produced the move of the match thus far with some swift interplay allowing a shot that found the net. Offside was the result and as the half drew to a close no incident of excitement arose. It was a duff contest thus far, thank goodness for a bit of chocolate and the good company I keep.
The teams came out for half the second, the temperature had dropped a degree or two, we needed a tonic to keep icy boredom at bay. Things began as they left off with a scampering frenzy lacking control. No 3 (Seydou Bamba), No 8 (Matthew Allen) and No 9 (Ryan McKenna) of Darwen constructed the first notable move with the latter bod only firing straight at the keeper. The same team came again with the pink booted No 10 (Chappy Massamba) shaking the side netting and making sure Abbey Hey were on their toes. Within seconds another fine Darwen ball was lobbed forth, all the striker had to do was finish matters. No 3 (Jack Tinning) of Abbey Hey produced a quality tackle and surely deserved the applause of his teammates after the game. As passions rose a Darwen chase was on and a clatter came with a visiting frontman and the home keeper. Heads came together, a nutting gesture was made - it seemed worse than what it was but it was deserved of an early dip, get the bubble bath ready, the Hey goalkeeper has been told to leave the field of play. From here, and with 10 men, the hosts played their best football of the night and exerted a tough will that saw them create numerous half chances. One of these chances caused madness in the Darwen box, a penalty shout arose from the melee and the ball was loose. Up stepped the cool No 11 (Rhys Webb) and slotted home, talk about playing a 'get out of jail free' card. Darwen now responded, 3 shots came, Tinning defended well, the game was ablaze, things were getting tetchy. We had waited all night for this, and now the referee decided time was up - what a ruddy rotter. I was left to ponder the Man of the Match at this point, it wasn't hard as No 5 (Adam Douglas) of Darwen was the most organised, controlled and insightful customer on the pitch and governed the back line and made sure shape was always kept - I think he deserves my humble nod.
FINAL THOUGHT - If both teams continue to fly around the pitch as they did tonight and throw veritable caution to the wind then it will be a season of many ups and many downs. Football is an art-form best conducted in a fashion that has a certain control and a certain insight. If Barcelona play with something akin to the flowing natural works of Renoir, what we got tonight was sheer Pollockonian mayhem that had the odd eye-catching splash of skill but was, in the main, a messy spectacle. Both teams are better than this, I thing a bit of pre-match Valium may help and of course a bit of DIY yoga at half-time to get things more levelled out. I do like my visit to Abbey Hey though and will be back time and again watching how they are faring and doing my review. I apologise if I have seemed a trifle negative during this one but with tennis elbow, a sensitive nose and an aversion to having dirty nails, I refuse to try and polish a turd.
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