THE FINE ART OF BATTLING

24th October 2021 - AFC Liverpool 2 v 1 Newton Aycliffe - Seeing that we had watched AFC Liverpool in the last round of the FA Vase we thought we would follow their progress again as they partook of a contest involving a team from across the land in County Durham - it seemed only fair. The morn was spent fungi hunting among Crosby dunes, we found quality over quantity and also added a few birds and blooms to the list as well as filling our tums with tea and cake.  We arrived at the ground in ample time after parking at the arse end of a long and narrow nearby street.  STP Stu joined us today, the usual viewing spots were chosen and gas-bagging commenced.  Predictions had been made earlier on, my good lady had looked into her crystal balls rather than at the pink fleshy ones I keep dangling her way in the hope of a compliment.  It seems ignoring my scrotal globes was the right thing to do as come the end of the game my sagacious partner had plucked out a very choice prediction.

So, with the weather set fair, the teams in position and all officials and onlookers prepared, the game began.  AFC Liverpool were immediately under the cosh and looked to be in danger of being caught cold, unlike my aforementioned globes which were nicely tucked away and enjoying each others testicular company (I really do need to get over this nut fixation).  Newton Aycliffe survived a tame scare when the home No 11 (Oliver Sanderson) delivered a cross that No 9 (Kyle Schorah) couldn't make true head contact with.  The guests reacted, No 9 (Ethan Ward) gathered possession, advanced and had time to shoot at a back-pedaling keeper.  The option was declined and an unselfish pass was made which No 11 (Sonni Coleman) latched onto and fired home.  Now that was what one calls a real shocker.

The visitors looked keen to double their early lead as the opposing unit floundered and looked utterly out of sync.  A brace of corners bore no fruit and from nowhere the Liverpool lads broke away.  A long ball fell to Sanderson who had only the keeper to beat.  The attempt was to fire home into the near post, the outcome was to bulge the side netting and to have the incident consigned to the portfolio labelled 'forgettable'.  Soon after the hosts came again with a razor-sharp dissecting ball finding No 10 (Callum Schorah) who released a punt with good weight that the mittman did well to save.  A corner ensued, a touch on and a back flick on the line needed some last minute defending with a follow-up hoof from the angle cracked too long for any awaiting assassins.

Newton Aycliffe decided to up the ante with a sumptuous cross causing the keeper to punch and a re-delivery equally choice and again dealt with by the mitted guardian.  The corner came and went, this was a decent game very much up for grabs

Next and a football highpoint.  The Red Army was gifted a free-kick much to the disgruntlement of Newton Aycliffe.  C. Schorah stepped up and sent in a wonder strike that was destined for the top corner.  Imagine the appreciative applause that went up when the man between the sticks dove, reached out an arm and just turned the ball around the post - marvellous stuff that sent a tingle of satisfaction across the scrotal sacking, darn those cheap pills off the Internet.  The corner that followed saw the keeper clobbered - well, you can't win em' all.

Now the trailing pack began to work back in and build some momentum.  Sanderson punctuated a fine break but was denied by a keeper on form. The same player received yet again, raced on, dillied and dallied before picking out K. Schorah in the box.  A quick turn and some cute strength saw a gap appear and the mesh-focused striker fire home. The goal was fully deserved and suddenly the pendulum of power was swinging the other way.

Towards the half-time break Aycliffe got back on terms with the flow.  The best chance came when Ward had a deflected shot fly on target which was tidied up by an alert and ready goalie.  A through ball followed with the legs of No 7 (Liam Jarvie) a veritable blur.  The keeper read the danger, galloped off his line and just managed to quell matters.  Finally, No 8 (Jake Peit-Jean) had a shot deflected wide with the corner killed dead by an offside decision - we entered the break all square.

Half-time and another brew, a piddle and a chomp on one of the worst pasties I have ever had.  Imagine a pastry dried out, recharged with a nuclear blast and left as a flaccid mess containing one solitary piece of meat.  I never normally complain but this was a bad do people.  I threw the remains I couldn't manage in a bin, the local fly colony departed and went in search of some local dog turds, I was tempted to join em'.

Half two soon followed. the hosts came out with a vengeance and applied some suffocating pressure.  A ball entered the box, K. Schorah collected and was marshalled by a trio of attendants.  A wriggle, a twist and a fraction of space was found.  Schorah did what his name suggests and walloped the ball home in convincing style - the turn around was complete.

The NA lads tried to respond to this body blow but Liverpool were on a roll and came once more.  K. Schorah directed forth an outrageous ball that C. Schorah chased for all he was worth.  It looked as though another golden chance would arise, but a solid last ditch tackle killed the chance stone dead. K Schorah for the same whipped up pack had a shot deflected wide soon after with the resultant corner producing bugger all - Newton Aycliffe now needed to get their acts together and do it pronto.

Alas for the visiting fans the home pack looked in control and came close when a choice corner found the bonse of No 4 (Paul Speed), at the back post, who executed a neat header that was beautifully tipped over by the travelling No 1 (Adam Pickford).  Another corner followed, the keeper rose and held with comparative ease. A substitute came next with AFC's two-goal hero replaced - well played that man.  With 20 minutes to go a couple of moments of madness saw the leaders get knocked down to 10 men with 2 yellows issued for quite petty acts.  The game was now pushed further onto the precipice and offered a glimpse of hope for the Aycliffe unit.

The Newton lads pounced, an attack came that was swift and direct, but the end attempt on goal was dealt with by a stickman with his eyes on the ball and thus saving with heightened quality.  Shots followed at each end of the ground and several balls were posted into the home box but the attackers were late in arriving and no further impressions on the scoreline were made.  More efforts ensued, all to no avail as AFC Liverpool remained stout and resolute and duly progressed to the next round. The result was well earned and the Man of the Match was given to AFC Liverpool's No 5 (Fidan Hajdari) for a grafting and efficient stint that was an integral part to keeping the team in the contest and making sure that after the early shocker, no further strikes were given away.  We pootled off pleased with a good game and with a note made to try and see this lot in the next round.

FINAL THOUGHTS - A fine day out and a good contest seen with the hosts moving on and hopefully continuing what will be an epic cup run.  Newton Aycliffe seemed to come with a plan today, got the most ideal start and then, when the opposing force pushed on, drastically ran out of ideas.  In truth, they should have bagged another goal at least, but today they were beaten by a hungrier and seemingly fitter squad.  AFC Liverpool put a serious stint in for the full 90 minutes and even after a slow start the desire, determination and hunger was there for all to see.  The majority of 50/50 balls were won, defensively they worked up a lather and stayed focused and from the middle of the park they always looked liable to create a chance.  If they keep this perspiring attitude up and have a bit of luck along the way, who knows where things will end - Wembley perhaps or the boozer at the end of the road after being knocked out on penalties.  Alas, news came through before I had finished this report that the teams next round game clashes with a fungus walk I am leading - oh bugger. I wish the team all the best and hopefully we will be back mighty soon.  NB - it seems the visitors play in an area with several nature reserves nearby that we have not visited.  Keep yer peepers peeled, we may be heading that way to pootle and ponder.

RED ROLLOVER

25th September 2021 - New Mills 2 v 5 AFC Liverpool - Having cut back in many areas I expected my stress levels to decrease - not so!  I woke up after another bout of nightmarish visions, I felt wasted and utterly on edge.  I suspect the human race are not helping matters - the government say clap, the masses clap, the government says stop in, the crowds all hutch up, the government suggest petrol deliveries may be slow, the maniacs dash to the nearest station with wide-eyed panic?  What next - the tories (small 't' crucial of course) say that if you want to go abroad you must get bummed?  Brilliant, that is all I need - a street full of exposed arses waiting for another shafting - haven't they had enough?  Anyway - a shit and a shakedown and a morn spent recording natural miracles and out with the good lady to the New Mills ground.  We arrived an hour before the FA Vase kick-off time, acquired some chips and Gill got a Hot Chocolate that was one of the worst she had ever-tasted - a blend of slurry, rectal scrapings and pond water - ooh err.  The gaff had no milk for me to have a brew - I ended up feeling mighty grateful.  We were soon sat on our arses chomping the tasty chips alongside fellow Non-League Nomad John D - we chatted, gave predictions and watched the game unfold. None of us expected what went on although my good lady and I did predict a Liverpool win.

Soon after the whistle rang out a high ball by the hosts saw No 9 (Rick Tindall) battle out wide and send in a cross.  No 8 (Benito Lowe) connected with an ample hoofing that saw the ball fly to the bottom corner.  The guest keeper kept his peepers on the trajectory and got down in double-quick time to push behind for a corner.  The ball from the angle came, No 2 (Christopher Rogers) put his cranium on the sphere but the outcome was way off target.

The Millers had a spring in their step (and one or two fizzing amphetamines up their arse I thought), they latched onto a loose Liverpool pass, No 10 (Teddy Osipitan) darted and only had the keeper to beat but the gloved blighter stuck out a peg and saved his sides slightly sizzling bacon.  A follow-up chance was had but the mitter was on it.  As you were folks, as you were!

After a couple more pseudo-scares the guests summoned up a surge that resulted in a corner.  The ball went long, was nutted back, played out and reposted onto the nut of No 7 (William McCarthy) who only had the keeper to beat.  His effort went... on the wrong side of the post.

The AFC pack now came on, No 10 (Callum Schorah) had a pop that the keeper spilled and yet managed to still survive any penetration to his meshings and then The Millers played around at the back, ran out of options and possession of the globe with No 9 (Kyle Schorah) the beneficiary.  The striker wasted no time in setting his sights and walloping home a low drive, a drive that broke the deadlock and gave the visitors a surprise lead.

No sooner had the game restarted than K Schorah was posing more threat and getting tumbled for his troubles.  The referee waved play on, a shot came and went wide, I considered it a big chance lost.  The leading unit now played some good midfield football and were winning most of the 50/50 balls.  No 11 (Rhys Hardacre) had the next pop from the pack, the keeper did well to only give away a corner which was easily negated.  A free-kick soon followed, the red army seemed to be on a roll but the wall was clattered, a breakaway came and No 8 (James Howell) was booked after a clumsy, but far from malicious tackle.

From more midfield competing a ball was squirted through to Liverpool's K Schorah who, all alone, had a defender to negotiate as well as the keeper.  A spurt, a quick sight of goal was all that was needed as the shank swung, the globe was propelled and the net was bulged for the second time.  Two fine strikes for sure, well played that man.

The response to this second suckerpunch was a corner, a corner that saw a real in-box scramble with the ball on the line and there to be buried. Somehow the Reds survived, soaked up another NM attack and then broke with 'two-goal Schorah' at the apex and duly tumbled by an advancing goalie.  The outcome was a penalty and an early bath for the keeper - I thought this a bit harsh but there ya go.  Much debating failed to change matters, a Speckled Wood Butterfly flew by and seemed disinterested and carried on going even after Schorah easily buried the ball and grabbed his hat-trick.

I thought that was that until The Millers had one final thrust and won a penalty of their own.  No 4 (Darren McKnight) stepped up and twatted home with a combination and frustration and infuriation.  1 - 3 and half time it was.

No movement was had for half-time, a chat with John D, a consideration of events thus far and a swill of some refreshing Elderflower and Apple pop did the trick.  The weather was unseasonably clement, the warming of the planet continues apace - it looks like I will be getting more wear out of my Hilda Baker 'Street-Speedos' over the coming weeks watch out ye weak-kneed women.

Half two began in a settled manner.  The travellers had a few minor thrusts but no great spunkage of success came.  The Millers had a couple of punts at goal, McKnight banged a free-kick wide and then No 5 (Harry Norris) fed Tindall who touched on to No 7 (Adam Stuart) who disappointingly missed the target.  I thought New Mills would go on from here with all conkers bared and throbbing for the challenge - not so.  AFC Liverpool gained possession, were allowed to dwell on the ball and then thread an easy pass for Howell to latch onto and only have the keeper to beat,  The ball left the foot and rolled homeward -1 - 4 - yes folks, game well and truly over.

The next purposeful advancement came from the guests, somehow a ragged home unit survived but things were looking mighty grim.  The same scenario soon repeated itself (I beg your pardon), an easy run by Hardacre saw a pair of good feet used to progress and finish and add a touch of icing on a very overloaded cake.  The game rolled on, K Schorah continued to be a perpetual problem for the Millers - a bit like having a crumb in one's undercrackers - no matter what one does it seems to remain elusive and cause much discomfort.

We entered the last 15 minutes, a gratis booting for the trailing pack was granted and executed.  My touchline verdict of the bonus kick - utter dross.  From here a a rather innocuous tackle was committed in the middle of the park and the red clad Howell was given his second yellow.  A trifle unfair I thought but the letter of the law has never been any other way.  The free-kick that followed saw a substitute's glabrous nut send the ball onto the post and waste an excellent opportunity to salvage a consolation.  The final sputterings however saw a similar additional chance missed by the 5 goal getting pack and then, No 12 (Jack Wray) nut home with pure ease to give The Millers a final hoorah but no end triumph.  2 -5 was another score-line that I bet no-one predicted - this is why we are absorbed by Non-League methinks.

Before pissing off homeward I contemplated Man of the Match and opted for AFC Liverpool's No 10  (Callum Schorah) for the footballing brain on show, the constant questioning of his markers, some choice passing play and for a 90 minute spirited commitment - leading from the front, that is what it is all about.

FINAL THOUGHTS - New Mills were off it today and having the keeper sent off just doubled the teams woes.  Sometimes the shit hits the fan, sometimes after hitting the fan it sprays all ways and leaves one without chance of escape - The Millers left the pitch today well and truly splattered and battered.  The fact is though, they are better than this performance and will duly bounce back and get their just desserts.  They have a league match coming up, it won't be easy but they have the capabilities to get things back on track - they just need to stay focused and positive.  AFC Liverpool came, played their own game and did what needed doing.  They are a controlled and stubborn unit that will give all and sundry a good run for their money.  On today's stint I would describe them as 'efficient' and 'industrious' without being flamboyant and excessively eye-catching.  There is an art-form in just getting the job done and this lot seem to have things sorted as regards that facet of the footballing game - I hope we can find time to see them in the next round and see if they can make a real good go of this FA Vase challenge.

SLIM MARGINS

11th September 2021 - Denton Town 3 v 2 Windle Labour - Up, sorted, out with the good lady to do some nature work at Ye Olde Denton Town.  Dave, Jimmy and Rob kept us kindly watered as we pootled away and made sure the areas cleared away so far were free from invasive plants and unwanted debris.  A Raven flew by as we dabbled, no doubt on the look out for a spare eyeball or some poor blokes lost testicles.  The Raspberry Bush was now producing fruit and we duly nibbled, they are now at their scrummy best.  I suggested the club should start making their own jams - Denton Dribblings - the finest footy spread in the land.  After the teams started to warm up my good lady beetled off to do more chores and I gas-bagged with numerous faces before taking up the usual perch to watch the afternoons match-up.  I predicted a close one, even I didn't expect it to go right to the wire though.

The opening spectacle of soccerised competition saw both units work up a lather and get to grips with the pace of the ball and their opponents set-up.  Denton put in a decent attack that was dealt with and duly led to a counter.  As the home lads backtracked an easy cross came, a forward bod rose to nut home without fuss albeit whilst being in a probable offside position. The Taker was No 11 (Ryan Cook), the goal stood, the hosts were given a shocker - note to be made, once you leave the traps you have no time to sniff your own arse.

Questions were now posed of the resident ranks with Windle more than holding their own.  The hosts advanced, No 2 (Liam McDowell) forced a good save from the travelling mitter, a follow-up shot was blocked by an outstretched shank and No 6 (Phil Yuille) sent forth a delightful curler (non-rectal of course) that quivered the crossbar - he deserved better although I suspect the pre-match massage was still on his mind (the dirty bleeder).  

The Town now put together several sound passing sequences, a screw seemed to be being turned.  Windle stood firm, cultivated a breakaway that saw No 6 (Kyle Ross) finish with a skewed shot. This could have been a real nail in the coffin of hope for the home chaps.  The zombies of Denton have the chance to rise again - ooh err!

We now had a quite absorbing match, perfectly poised like the sexed up nipples of Frank Carson when the Guinness salesman was in town.  Denton were probing, a long ball saw No 7 (Joe Knight) touch on and No 9 (Leon Grandison) fire first time - the keeper (Dave Eden) produced a ruddy good save to protect the onion bag and only concede a corner.  The angled hoof was utter shit!

Denton had their peckers up (well, it was a clammy day), they came on again with a ball that saw the guest keeper punch with a certain degree of uncertainty.  The ball was helped on its way but Grandison was in the right spot to gain possession and fire home a quite sumptuous equaliser - it had been coming - well taken that man.  

The hosts now started to dictate but just needed to add a little more purpose to their threat.  Again, some exquisite passing was carried out with No 3 (Josh Stachini) having a first time pop fly just shy of the vertical.  No 8 (Aaron Clayton) fed No 7 (Joe Knight) next, a low shot saw the mittman push away, the incoming striker was just a shade too late to pick up on the scraps - he needs to pay more attention to the seaside gulls - now they wouldn't miss that!

The half now pressed on, Windle were working well and hanging in there.  Ross eventually garnered ownership of the sphere after the resident rear ranks pissed about with no general idea of what to do next.  A short pass came, No 11 (Ryan Cook) received and walloped home without a second thought - 1 - 2 - wow!

From here to the break little in the way of red hot action came, I knew I should have kept that old copy of Ruptured Ringpieces handy.  The whistle blew - we were all left pondering the end outcome, the opening throes had been more than a little eventful with the home-grown liner being sent off due to an overspill of verbals and the referee getting his silk-patched crotchless knickers in a right old twist.  My advice would be for the banished flag waver to save the energy for when he is next in a game and for the man in black to opt for a more forgiving gusset with perhaps a cotton-based under-string.

I stayed put for the break, slurped another brew kindly delivered by Rob Nicholson the Denton doofer and local Prostate Gland Checker.  The warm drink was greatly received, it was just a shame Rob had not washed his hands after a busy morn Bot-Holing.

Half two, Denton had a gamut of corners and free-kicks in the space of 15 minutes - all bore no fruit and maybe indicated a side who need to work on their set-piece creativity and their aerial threat.  I counted four free-kicks and eight corners during this spell with the guest keeper not questioned once - not good methinks.

The closest to a breakthrough was had when Town's No 5 (Cole McGrath) connected with one corner kick but whose header was cleared at the last by an alert defender.  To be fair, Windle Labour were now similar to a pair of Tena Underpants and absorbing well.  They had their own threat too with the Cook always an option when hoofing clear.  

Again Denton poured forth, McDowell latched onto a cross and sent in a rasper that was pushed behind.  The corner was wasted.  A gratis boot saw Stachini plonk the ball off the crossbar and soon after Windle broke and seemed surprised to see the home keeper off his line.  The gloved guardian looked in danger of being caught with his trousers down but recovered his position just in time to deal with a header that was heading for the netting.  Oh ye lucky git!

Things looked settled until the home team advanced with zoned in focus.  The guests were stretched, No 10 (Marcello Arhin) sprayed the ball wide, McDowell lasered in a cutting cross that left the defence standing and No 11 (Caleb Affleck) strode up to tap home and get this game back to all square.  Moments later Grandison found the net after a sweet move and great resident joy was had only to be neutered by the man in black who hailed the move offside.

The minutes now ticked by, Grandison had another chance, but was denied on the line.  Windle pounced next, mayhem ensued in the Denton box with several shots needing last minute blockages.  It was a heart-stopping period with Denton scrambling around like a flock of headless pheasants.  The survival mode kicked in, they got away with the scare and then continued to press.  Again the hard-working Grandison had a poke towards goal that was wide of the mark.  This was now getting too close for comfort for both squads.

My good lady turned up at this point, was she the bringer of good luck to one of the teams?  It seemed so as during the latter lumpings Denton caused chaos in the opposing box, a low shot came from the heap and the ball was back-heeled home by No 16 (Richard Farrington) - 3 - 2 - what a turn-up.  It was all too much for the Denton bench with one substituted player running on with chest bared and joining in the on-pitch celebrations.  This was all well-and good but enjoying the triumph whilst sporting an obvious boner is just not on.  The guests were incensed (was it the goal or the protruding pork piece) - a bit of argy bargy ensued, silly times indeed with a push, a shove, a chase and a smattering of threats all thrown into the melting pot.  Eventually matters settled and the final throes were upon us.

The last attack of the game was had by Denton with Grandison feeding No 5 McGrath who let fly and brought out a solid save from the mitter,  Soon after we were done and my Man of the Match went to Denton Town's No 9 (Leon Grandison) for bringing untold effort and enthusiasm, being a constant option and for keeping the opposition defence honest and on their toes - the goal was a well taken bonus.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Windle Labour seemed to come with a plan for this one and it nearly paid off.  They got their noses in front a couple of times and with a bit more belief could have snatched this.  They played things tight and battled well with off the ball work notably eye-catching.  The main aspect to work upon is when grabbing the lead do not sit back and think the job is done - push on, get more goals, believe wallopings can be dished out and the final three points can be bagged.  Denton Town are making hard work of matters this time around, but are getting by and holding their own at the top of the league.  They really do need to get their rears in gear from the off and when pushing forward do so as a hunting pack with those swarming forth showing a fiery desire to get into the danger zone.  The team has all the components, now they have to get them working as one.  They are currently a bit like a robot who just needs to get wired up right - there's nowt worse than a spark-plug in the wrong place or a transistorised todge left hanging spare - cripes.

CHEADLE-ISATION

30th August 2021 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 3 v 2 Cheadle Town - Up at the crack and with an anxiety riddled carcass - it doesn't help having nightmares about multi-nobbed men, anally active amputees and being chased by lesbians on pogo-sticks - yes, the mind was damaged young, I am still not right.  I crack on nonetheless and after the usual ablutions, a quick brekkie and a sort out I cycled to the local ground and arrived at 10.15am prompt.  A couple of banners were hung with local super doofer Mark Torbitt and then I had a potter, a natter and indulged in some pre-match strimming.  Many bags of gas were deflated via the verbals, many fine folk conversed with, despite feeling jittery the day was doing just fine.  STP Stu arrived an hour before kick-off and a brew was had (with a hot-dog for me as I was getting quite peckish) and the usual tooting spots were taken.  A healthy attendance came, the players set up for the off and after using the bone-trembling strimming machine I scribbled my observations and deciphered them as thus:- 

From the first rattle of the pea, Cheadle Town swarmed over the Nomadic rear like a gathering of Gonad Wasps over a sugar-dipped scrotum.  No 7 (Enock Amankwaa) was the first to streak away and cross the ball for No 11 (Joseph Collins) to hit first time.  The keeper was called upon to do his duty and did just that with a regulation block.  Amankwaa soon had a pop at goal himself and again, the resident No 1 (Alexander Fowell) did what was required of him.

The Town tide kept flowing, Collins found space, was denied by the stickman and then No 9 (Patrick Davin) was also thwarted by the keeper before having another punt wide of the mark.  Eventually the Nomads woke up, contributed to a more balanced affair but with the guests still appearing to be the most likely to bulge meshing.  In fact Town's No 4 (Adam Jones) danced a merry path forth and let loose a ball that looked to be sneaking on the inside of the post - alas a little bit too much drag saw it roll inches off line.

The hosts were galloping like diarrhoea riddled stallions and all the while doing well to keep matters at zero/zero.  Town strove to plunder a goal, Amankwaa and No 10 (Christian Soda) linked up well with the former player only managing to ripple the side netting.  

As time progressed the home lads eventually summoned their first worthwhile attack.  No 2 (Kieren Alley) was the apical component but the first touch was just lacking a certain delicacy and the keeper came to clear the danger.  Only 10 minutes remained of the first half, chances became rarer than pubes on Duncan Goodhew's arse crack.  No 3 (Max Lewens) for the Nomads had a spurt and earned a corner.  The ball was delivered, all heads were missed but Foley sent in a shot with solid gumption only to see the ball deflect wide.  Another angled kick came, as did a touch that sent the sphere mere centimetres shy of the vertical timber.

Things looked to be headed for a goal free half when a Nomadic throw led to Foley collecting and turning with great haste before letting fly and burying the first, all-important strike.  It was a delectable goal missed by the Nomads chairman who said he was in the bushes (make of that what you will).  For me the goal is best graded as a 'stunner' and believe me, Cheadle Town certainly looked stunned.

As half time loomed Town looked to level matters, but a crap corner and a header over the bar was all they could offer.  The hosts won one final corner which was easily posted and headed home by the awaiting No 9 (Daniel McLaughlin) - 2 -0 well who would have thought it?

The break arrived not long after, many were surprised at the score line, but such is football.  The game is not an easy one to read unless one is either:- A - sleeping with the devil, B - using dark forces to contact the ghost of Brian Moore or C - bribing officials and players with nude snapshots that are best left unmentioned.  Maybe the latter is why the Nomad chairman was recently in the undergrowth - is there a secret horde of candid photographs buried somewhere that are not as secret as one may imagine?  The mind shudders at the thought?

Half two and the initial spasms were regular and decently balanced.  The home pack then burst forth, a ball was sent across the goal-face, No 7 (William Shawcross) delivered from the other side and McLaughlin rose at the back post and obligingly nutted home.  By crikey, were some home fans having their first sexual occurrence of the season? Surely some of the nether-region bulges would testify to this.  I remained sober and unswollen (it is an age thing), but this was some surprise.  Cheadle Town needed a quick reaction, preferably dipped in a good dollop of lucky sauce.  They battled away, won a gratis boot - No 15 (Andrew Lunt) decided he would duly hoof and did so with mid-elevation and adequate swerve.  Bonces rose, bonces made no contact and neither did the keeper - the ball flew straight into the onion bag untouched - now consider that a gift dear visitors.

A similar free-kick came next, but was booted too long and then Foley had another punt for the resident team and came mighty close to regaining the 3 goal cushion.

This was a good, entertaining game, still plenty to play for and both units looking up for the fight. Corners aplenty came, all bearing no fruit although Davin for the Town had a header that he really should have put on target.  The Town rode their luck on a couple of occasions with a crossball from the home No 8 (Yussuf Addualahi) needing a scrappy scramble behind.  The corner brought no joy and we looked set to stay as we were.

Back and forth the ball went when No 3 (Miles Vare) for the visitors was in possession in the far corner.  A quick spurt, a chance to pass lost, another dink and dribble and then the ball was played back to Jones who thumped from decent range and somehow found the back of the net.  Now this was a real cliffhanger for sure - one perhaps destined to rival the end of a Flash Gordon episode after Ming The Merciless was just about to blow Dr Zarkoff's balls off.

I expected fireworks, in truth what I got was a few sputters and the odd spark (this was a moment for a Buster Crabbe wannabe to save the day).  Alas we came closer to getting a Buster Bloodvessel blow-off instead with neither goal seriously threatened.  Town looked to create, Nomads looked to deflate, Foley had a chance to further celebrate - but the keeper stood firm.  Soon after the referee called a halt to the game, for me the best team won and Man of the Match goes to Cheadle Heath Nomad's No 6 (Jack Taylor) for a concrete kick about at the back, some applaudable aerial effectiveness and for some rock solid sanguinity when under pressure - good stuff indeed.

FINAL THOUGHT - Cheadle Town came as favourites today, they returned back down the road humbled.  I still think they will more than hold their own this campaign and be in the top 10 without a doubt.  They started well, didn't take their chances and paid the ultimate price, but on another day... who knows?  They have a bit of depth in the squad and this should maintain a good stability in the season and bring decent reward.  To push on for promotion though is a big ask and this time, they will surely be just found wanting.   The Nomads have turned around a fearfully horrid start to the season and really got things rolling in the right direction.  They work as a pack, play for the full 90 minutes and never get on each others cases when things are rolling against them.  These are all aspects that may see them outdo their expectations.  The aims this season are sober and not far-fetched, if this current run of form continues they will be in the top 10 for sure.  I am just wondering what odds a betting man would give on which Cheadle team will finish highest - on today's evidence it is anyone's guess.  The next meet-up in the league down at Park Road could be very interesting indeed.

VERTIGO, VULGARITY AND...VESTACARE ACTION

21st August 2021 - Avro FC 1 v 1 Runcorn Linnets - I awoke early and did some gardening today.  I felt fine until catching up on a few computer chores and the head went for a trip down 'Wanky Lane'.  As I typed and the vertigo molested the mind I looked out of the window and saw the skies turn to dishrag grey and let loose a filthy overspill.  I am a stress head, an anxiety riddled git who runs on hard worked batteries, thankfully today's football had enough temptation value to keep me moving 'forward'.

Some scran, a few more books sold, a quick swill (especially the testicles, by heck they were clammy) and out me and the good lady went.  I was dropped off at the Vestacare Stadium whilst my wife went to see her mum - I think the fact that I had my freshly scrubbed conkers on show made up her mind.  I met my good comrade STP Stu soon after and it goes without saying chips and a brew were acquired from the Macies Diner (always excellent).  I gave the old belfry several shakes and supplied the hooter with a good squirt of Olbas Oil after the scran - my tubes are tightening, my scrotal sac loosening - ah if only it were the other way round.

Seats were chosen today so as to avoid the liquid javelins and good natter was partaken of with many subjects arising.  Predictions were made and to find out if we were 'Mystic Meg Wannabes' or 'David Icke Definites' you will have to read on and see what unfolds.

The FA Cup Tie kicked off at 3pm on the dot, the opening swathes of soccer action revealed two teams determined to play football on the deck and at their own pace.  No major opportunities to bulge meshing arose until a swift Linnet attack saw the nimble-toed No 10 (Iwan Murray) charge and obligingly feed the eager No 11 (Dapa Olawaju).  The man in possession gained a few feet on his marker, hammered in a low cross that duly struck the feet of the rear bod No 6 (Lewis Lacey) who could only watch on as the ball trickled over the line.  An own goal - what a shabby start for the hosts.

After this nerve-inducing shocker the home lads settled back in but The Linnets conjured up the next assault with No 7 (MJ Monaghan) at the apex and sending in a low shot from middling distance that the keeper pushed away with slightly unsure hands.  Runcorn continued from here with greater ownership of the ball and much impetus.

A little smattering of spice was added to the game with touchline verbals and on-field moaning making for a troubled brew liable to overflow.  Avro won a gratis boot next with the ball delivered and some in-box mayhem ensuing.  From the maelstrom of hectic action No 9 (Liam Ellis) rose, put noggin on ball and projected the said sphere... wide.  Another free-kick was awarded for the hosts, No 11 (Kane Wallwork) propelled a bender that billowed the side-netting - by heck, that was closer than I thought possible.  In response the Runcorn pack darted with Olawaju holding the ball at his feet, entering the box and then diving like a gannet with a belly full of kippers - cripes.  The referee was having none of it and waved play on.

The game bore down on the half-time break, Avro were gaining a real foothold and a 4 pass move of nippy standards was finalised by a pop from No 10 (Louis Potts) who just couldn't keep the ball below the timber.  Avro continued to press, a few balls were posted that were just denied the all important killer kiss and several other passes just lacked that the crucial composure factor.  

With 5 minutes on the clock Avro won a corner that was delivered with good pedigree but could only shave the rising bonces.  Before the break a final corner the same way was hit long, the ball then went out to No 8 (Jake Cottrell) who pinged one right at the awaiting keeper - 0-1 the game remained.

The break saw Stu and myself stay put, rain on balding heads can cause flashbacks and a certain purpling of the pate - I was in no mood to revisit the time when Fred Truman visited my home town and got his nob stuck in a bar billiards hole and I certainly didn't want my head turning violet and encouraging those who think it funny to refer to folk as 'bell-ends'.

The game restarted, The Linnets treated themselves to an utterly shit free-kick, good on em' (please add own sarcasm).  Avro pounced, a cross ball, a header nutted goalward and a quality save made.  Another surge followed, Potts posted a low pile-driver, the keeper tried to hold on but the ball spilled free and up popped Ellis to bury the scraps - a worthy equaliser that brought great joy to many home fans.

Next action and Avro won a corner that caused havoc in the Linnet's box.  Eventually Ellis chanced his shank, the ball just had a shade to much elevation - similar in fact to the titties of Tessie O'Shea after she had discovered the wonders of wearing a Bust-O-Booster Scaffold Bra.  The Avro pressure continued, a pressure that was also similar to that found in the aforementioned tit-sling.  A corner came, the Runcorn keeper rose, missed the punch and saw his teammates somehow scramble the sphere clear.  

Eventually the guests girded their loins and came on.  A deflected effort saw an angled hoof come that merely led to a counter attack.  No 7 (Daniel Byrnes) for the home lads knocked forth an absolute polished peach of a pass, that saw Ellis gather.  The striker was in the zone, kept his head and neatly buried - the fans roared appreciation and then abuse as an offside flag was waved.  

The game now had a true FA Cup feel, tension was mounting, the next goal would be utterly decisive it seemed.  The fast paced action saw chances come, the closest being an Avro effort that needed blocking on the line.  Substitutions were made, 10 minutes remained and both units tried to up the ante and get the all important glory goal.  Another shot for Avro was had and was deflected over, the corner came and found the barnet of No 3 (Bailey Sloane) - the outcome - over the bar.

More pops at goal went shy of the strike zone and then... in the final seconds the Linnets swooped.  One of their subs spied goal and took a pop, a deflection was had and the ball seemed to be going just inside of the post - darn these glasses, somehow the globe just missed the strike zone.  Moments later, and we were done.  A replay it must be, what a shame but such is cup football.  This had been a good game and for me Avro's No 9 (Liam Ellis) deserves the Man of the Match award simply for being an utter menace, always an option and for galloping his legs off.  Well done that man and good luck to all in the replay.

FINAL THOUGHT - a tidy little encounter this with two teams perfectly matched.  The replay looks a tough one to call but and I wouldn't be surprised if penalties loom.  Avro are looking to have a very strong season and may just surprise one or two folk along the way.  Could they have a cup run, could they gain promotion?  Looking at the evidence today it is possible but rest assured, it will not be easy.  The key today was the grit and determination shown, if this is a factor in each and every 90 minute encounter Avro may just shake things up.  The Linnets, since flying free of the NWCFL are doing Ok - nothing more, nothing less and seem to have some very decent players in their midst.  Murray has mercurial feet, Olawaju is a real darting dynamo and there are several cool customers at the back.  They are in a league with some tough teams and some who have dosh to spare - I think they should more than hold their own though and hopefully will catch them again at some point.

After the game I tried to chill out and pondered why I have used with words beginning with 'V' to name this report.  I had no idea but then tried to outdo myself and come up with a sentence with 4 'V' word - I came up with 'Vera Duckworths Vagina is Very Volatile' - now I know why my head is spinning!

CONSTIPATION STREET

14th August 2021 - Eagle Sports 0 v 0 Knutsford FC - Arising with the lark and out to Airlift Hill we went where we were set to lead a wildlife walk at an area under threat and in need of some protection.  The weather was average and hardly helpful when looking for bugs but, with many eyes I was required to tally up a good count and with blooms, mini-beasts, a few birds and some added extras the end total was 87 species.  After the walk we noted that it was only 7 mins to the nearest football ground, a bit of Cheshire League action it was then.  Upon arrival it was aggravating that no warm drinks were available as well as no grub. Add to this the fact that there was no cover and the drizzle started to fall - thank goodness I am sporting the Percy Sugden barnet look these days. 

I am picking when and where I do my reports of late as I am stretched all ways and need to offer quality rather than quantity.  When I put pen to paper today little did I know that I was ready to witness a bunged-up ball booting affair with a greater chance of Stan Ogden rising from the grave than any teams scoring a goal.  Hey ho.

The game began is a good battling fashion with the hosts winning an early corner kick that was met by the ascending bonce of No 3 (Ben White) who couldn't keep the ball below the horizontal.  The Knutty Boys paid back this early scare with some high investment on the ball with No 9 (Aaron Burgess) and No 10 (Jay Phillips) each delivering noticeable crosses with the ball just lacking the final killer contact. A gratis hoof came the other way, the header was won by the leaping No 10 (Danny Hutchins) but the projection of the sphere was straight at the keeper and had as much 'oomph' as one of Mavis Riley's naked photo shoots.

A corner came next, it went to the Eagles and was delivered with good loft.  The keeper came and punched and was duly clattered in the process.  Two more angled kicks ensued, both ended with disappointment - it seemed like the game was going stale, akin to the Corned Beef Alf Roberts had been trying to sell for a quarter of a century (ooh the nasty twisting bastard).

Little action arose, a shot did pop out of the murk and the mitter spilled with a sigh of relief blown forth after the loose ball was wellied wide.  The tightness of the contest reminded me of Ena Sharples' knicker elastic after she had gained 20 pounds following a hot-pot eating contest - there was no give at all.  Suddenly the resident unit indulged in a great passing display that culminated in an effort on target that was halted by a quality laden save - from here though, bugger all else of note was had.

During the break Gill wandered to the car for a choccy bar and rejoined me at the opposite side of the pitch.  This was looking destined to be a bare-bollocked bullet - we were not pleased by this and the fact that no hot drinks were available only added to our disgruntlement.  I did call Gail Tilsley to see if she had a cafe nearby but the silly bint was in Bognor with a Ken Barlow look-a-like.

Half two was viewed, Knutsford sped from the traps quicker than one of Jack Duckworth's pigeons from the arse crack of a thrutching Minnie Caldwell - cripes, what an episode that was.  Burgess turned his marker and won a corner for his leg-whirring efforts.  The ball entered the box, a header cleared the lines and a return cross was wasted - bring on Albert Tatlock I say - surely he can do better than this.

Knutsford pushed again, a cross came and the home keeper yelled his lungs out so as to claim.  The ball was dropped. No 12 (Juan Vilches-Narro) pounced - for a second I thought the deadlock was going to be broken...meanwhile back on Planet Reality!

The game staggered on, similar in fact to a drunken Don Brennan after he had lost his leg.  Composure was lacking as both teams tried to up the ante.  After much ado about nothing Eagle Sports won a corner - can you imagine my disappointment when I had to refer to it as 'shite'.  The huffing and puffing continued, No 14 (Ben Geary) for Knutsford made a late spurt but was denied at the death by an alert mitter and at the other end No 15 (Harry Preidt) belted one into the heavens as if to full-stop the misery.  With mere minutes on the clock Knutsford called upon the last dregs of patience.  A ball was punted, Phillips flicked on, Geary collected, rounded the keeper and took aim from an acute angle.  The ball headed goalward only to quiver the timber and eventually get cleared.  A couple of half-chances followed before I put the final full stop on my notes - thank buggery that one was over.

From the stalemate a few good stints were seen with my personal Man of the Match going to Knutsford's No 6 (James Manson) for a measured and effective stint and some honest galloping here, there and everywhere.  A free ale in the Rovers Return, a quick tour of Mike Baldwins factory and a night on the nest with Fred Gee is the prize - go forth dear fellow and enjoy.

We beetled off homeward wondering if goals were merely an imaginary thing or do they actually exist.  Ah yes, the sound of ball bulging onion bag - I remember it so well.

FINAL THOUGHTS - It goes without saying that this was not a classic and left us uncertain as to the positives and negatives of both teams.  The game was laden with endeavour but alas, what we had today was a mere clash of styles.  Think of the time when Ray Langton and Eddie Booth both went to the Vegetable Based Fancy Dress Party at Emily Bishop's house and both turned up as podded peas - a distinct clash for sure with very little rewarding style.  In sport and in life, these situations arise - two units pushing hard striving to make an impression and all the while creating a stagnant and static stand-off.   Eagle Sports need to work on their heading game methinks and on another day, with some good crust behind the ball, could have gone a couple of goals up.  Knutsford just need to be a little more relaxed up front and race forth with earnest passion (no not Earnest Bishop) and make sure support arrives in abundance.  In my hectic schedule I will try and give a better overview of the teams later in the season and hopefully will be relating tales of astounding 30 yard sizzlers and physically defying scissor kicks rather than comparing all to second rate wankers in a shitty TV drama liable to turn cranial quality to useless soup - I do apologise.

NOMADIC NIGGLES

7th August 2021 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 2 v Abbey Hey 3 - With the ears ringing, the head spinning and anxiety nipping at my nadgers I woke early doors, led a small party of folk on a walk in the rain and arrived home fagged and flaky.  I still summoned enough energy to arrive at the local ground where I hoped to witness a good pick-me-up encounter.  The mandible was put to good use exchanging words with many fine folk one of whom was Roy 'Public Plumbing' Welsh - a man who likes to pass water on a professional basis and who is taking bookings as I type - 'slash-tastic'.  After acquiring brews and a hot dog myself and Roy wandered to my personal executive box where the said Pissing Pirate related tales of epic squirts he had indulged in and the famed 'Golden Shower of Gretna Green' incident that really brought our splash-man to the fore of public attention.  Eventually we were joined by a few other fine folk including Abbey Hey Pete who, may I add, purchased a copy of Reprobate Road along with local Snap-O-Matic man Mark Torbitt, who also provided the match piccie below.  Fine stuff indeed.  The game began at the special witching hour of 3pm, I expected an away win, but hoped the Nomads could knacker my inklings - here is what went on.

The initial moments of today's 90 minute escapade were akin to an unfinished jigsaw with no real pattern made and many unconnected aspects to be seen.  Both units looked a trifle ring rusty but Abbey Hey looked keen to shake off any action-hindering oxidisation with several advances holding a certain promise.  A surge came with No 2 (Jake Dunford) receiving out wide and wasting no time in making haste and posting a pin-point accurate cross for No 9 (Ben Halfacre) to tap home - the offside decision was quite disappointing to say the least, but brought great delight to a local wag who insisted this one had 0-0 written all over it.

The Hey makers came once more, prodding and poking like a Prostate Doctor on whizz.  Another cross was posted. No 11 (Dylan Fitzgerald) rose and put belfry on ball but the contact was as weak as a stickleback's water.  The Nomads hurried and harried and eventually got some purchase on the globe with No 11 (Max Lewen) having a pop only to see the side netting bulge.  Abbey Hey continued to be on top however and sent in several more balls into the box. On more than one occasion the guests were thwarted by the offside rule and when No 10 (Jordan Lazenbury) did sneak in and looked set to bury, the hosts' keeper did his duty and quelled the danger with a firm set of hands.

The opening goal look destined to be going the Hey way until an innocuous throw in for the hosts came, ended up at the feet of No 7 (William Shawcross) who, from a tidy distance, duly let fly and opened up the day's strike account with an absolute pearler.  Where the utter buggery did that come from?  Seconds later and the always hard-working Nomadic No 3 (Jake Wright) took a clattering that left him a trifle dazed.  A free-kick was awarded, the ball was moved around, Shawcross was on it again and dared chance a most ridiculous lob over the keeper.  The ball rose, the keeper back-tracked, the ball fell, the keeper looked bewildered - 2 - 0 - what a absolute peach and what a capricious few minutes of soccerised sensations.  Suddenly a roar was heard from the main stand, the excitement had all become too much for Roy Welch who had dropped his pants, took aim with his porker and was propelling forth a fountain of celebratory urine right into the nearby gardens - a snippet in time showcasing how this glorious game can easily unhinge those with a dodgy prostate gland.

From here the half hurtled by with Abbey Hey striving to half the deficit (at least).  Two corners came and went, a Nomads' free-kick was like a constipated elephant's anus and bore fuck all and then the visitors advanced, time and space were a rare commodity but Fitzgerald used extra nifty feet too cultivate a couple of inches and garner a peek at goal. The shot came, the ball raced into the net unhindered and completed a decent and much needed goal.  The half ended soon after, were the Nomads in danger of blowing this one?

I stayed put for the break with good old Pete wandering for the brews.  The local predictor who had opted for a goalless draw now claimed he meant 2-2 and even convinced several eavesdroppers of his faux pas - some people hey, comics incarnate and worth the attendance fee alone.

The second half began, Nomads were out and at it with No 9 (Daniel McLaughlin) in, but thwarted by an alert mitter.  A corner followed but was delivered with too much uplift.  A moment of suicidal tendencies came next when a home back pass saw the Hey's Lazenbury nip in and look to level matters, thank goodness the resident No 1 (Alexander Fowell) was on his toes.

The game now donned an untidy countenance with one team desperate to get back in it and the other eager to protect the lead.  The pressure eventually rose on the home netting, a free kick came, wasn't dealt with. The ball was redelivered and Halfacre had time to collect, pick his spot and bury with relative ease. The ball nestled in the bottom corner as the Hey pack celebrated, now the home lads had a real fight on their hands.

Abbey Hey now imposed themselves on the match, the lead should have been grabbed when a cross found Lazenbury who from mere feet out was denied by a quality save.  The Cheadle chaps summoned an attack, a ball fed McLaughlin who was halted by the rear rank Dunford who produced a tackle of high standard that surely stopped a shot on goal. 

Time advanced, a Hey corner was played short, a pass followed and Fitzgerald walloped over.  No 4 (Thomas Murray) posted a rasper next, this time the shot was just shy of the vertical.  The hosts were now like a flock of clemmed Jackdaws, - flapping about looking for scraps.  The Hey Brigade were akin to a gathering of hunting Sparrowhawks, eyeing up every opportunity to sate their hunger.  

Two chances came at either end, two point blank saves kept the scoresheet unaltered until... Abbey Hey broke, earned a free-kick which was played, touched on and collected by Murray who took his chance well and brought unbridled joy to his teammates, the bench and the onlooking supporters.  The game looked destined to be only going one way now as the guests continued to push.  During the latter stages the home team did well to recharge their batteries and create one or two half chances, the best being a header over the bar by their willing No 16 (Wilf Riley).  Alas the sands of time ran out, Abbey Hey had not been at their best, but had pinched this one, the opposing ranks looked utterly forlorn.  Man of the Match for me was Abbey Hey's No 5 (Aaron Fleming) a cultured and calm player who remained collected and in control throughout and who will be having a very good season indeed if he continues with the same attitude and approach.

I set off home at a slow waltz and was overtaken by a galloping Mr Welch - he seemed to be walking with a certain clenching of the nether-regions - I wonder where he was off to.

FINAL THOUGHTS - In truth (there is no other way), I thought both teams were not charging on all cylinders today and lacked a certain fluency.  Sometimes certain match-ups can have this effect and a clash of styles can hinder the flow.  Abbey Hey though have started the season and bagged some foundation points and can only kick on from here and do the business.  Prior to the start of the campaign I expected this lot to be in the top six and have no reason to change my opinion.  There are some good players in the mix, but they do need to start working as a complete well-oiled unit soon or a few upsets may be on the cards.  The Nomads are in a spot of bother at the moment and it isn't pleasant to witness.  3 games, no points, 11 goals conceded and with a hat-trick of real tough fixtures ahead.  The crux of the problem is not easy to lay one's finger on, but more chances need to be made up front and the back needs tightening up for sure.  The work ethos is decent, the energy and camaraderie there to be applauded, maybe a little luck is needed to turn things around, but one thing is for sure, come the end of August, if the fat bint known as Lady Luck doesn't play fair, some serious shittery may be hitting the fan - I for one hope this doesn't happen.