BLUES WIN OUT UNDER THE GREY

30th December 2023 - Widnes  1 v 2 Clitheroe FC - The 409th match report is here, which isn't bad seeing that for the past few seasons I am just picking and choosing where I scribble. Today we had a morn doing what needs to be done and then the missus and myself headed to Widnes for a trip back to a ground we hadn't been to for quite a while.  The last time we were perched in the DCBL Stadium was when the hosts were a North West Counties Team and there were about 30 other people for company.  Today I expected a few more but not many to be fair.  

Prior to going to the ground though we had a walk at Victoria Park with the birds fed, counted and recorded and a good brew enjoyed in the local cafe.  The weather played fair for once and the stroll was mighty pleasant, we even spied a couple of fungi, one of which was the Wolf-Fart Puffball (Lycoperdon pyriforme).  I have never seen a wolf expel its anal gas but I have known a few Jack Russell's to make a reek from the rectum and so am campaigning for a fungus name-change - The Jack Russel Shit-Arse Spore Shooter would look grand in many mycological tomes and would be one many a punter on my walks would surely remember.

And to the ground, we arrived, paid our fees, purchased a couple of choccy bars and I had another coffee and a pie.  The pie was delectable, this will be my last one for a few months as I am aiming to drop a few pounds.  The coffee was akin to a liquid version of the aforementioned shroom although I guzzled it down due to the fact that it was warm - by heck it was a shocker.  

With seats taken a decent crowd built up (a darting 180 I believe) and the teams came out.  The desire was for a footballing masterclass with oodles of goals, what we got instead was thus:-

The early state of play saw two teams indulge in an examination process of the opposing force with retainment of the ball very much the key priority.  Clitheroe eventually won a corner from nothing with the ball posted and No 9 (Sefton Gonzales) putting too much head-beef on the sphere and sending it over the horizontal.  Widnes began to push next, No 2 (Louis Isherwood) knocked a choice ball forth that needed some alert defending.  A throw followed, some decent movement ensued but the guests remained disciplined and suppressed the danger. 

Clitheroe were the next team to raise levels of hope with an advancement that saw No 11 (Veron Parny) cross, the ball get nudged away only for No 10 (Ross Dent) to latch onto and have a dig. The effort was sadly deflected wide.  The resultant corner was abysmal. Clitheroe soon came again, No 2 (Jacob Hanson) out wide put in a fair cross that Gonzales collared.  With good muscle the striker shrugged off his marker and let fly a shot that the home No 1 (Cameron Terry) did well to save in his bottom corner.  The hoof from the angle was decent but Widnes resisted any penetration.

As the hosts stuttered along the best they could muster was a free-kick that was duly wasted by a rotten shot over the bar. Clitheroe were having a lot of the ball but were a trifle  negative in the approach whilst the home team kept up a good work rate to make sure their defending remained watertight.  Alas the two teams were not wearing watertight clothing and got a good soaking as the Heavens opened and the liquid misery fell with relentless insistence.  

The game now seemed to be dragging until Widnes advanced, a superb cross found the nut of No 10 (Sean Miller) who put in a good header that was wonderfully saved.  A quick break followed, Gonzales was at the apex of matters and after negotiating an inch of space, he fired and found the back of the onion bag - 0 -1 and on the balance of play it was deserved.

The half-time came soon after with little else to report.  The main gripe with the game is that there were too many passes made by both teams that were going the wrong way.  Back, back and back and this, combined with a lack of creativity wasn't making for the greatest spectacle - hey ho, sometimes a clash of styles can kill the greatest sources of potential.  

Half two began with the rain hammering down and a few hardy Widdy fans striving to cultivate a tune or two.  Their team certainly needed the encouragement and had to up their game.  The initial battling was good from both units with the resident pack putting together some good passing that was testing the Clitheroe resolve.  Despite this, the visitors always looked the most likely to score with the point nearly proven when Veron Parney released Dent who had a pop at goal but couldn't keep his shot down.  

Widnes made a few subs before a long ball saw No 3 (Matty Rain) have a chance to finish but who chose to cross instead.  No 15 (Matt Van Wyk) connected, the ball flew way off target but was retrieved, crossed and duly hoofed away.  No 16 for Widdy (Steve Milne) put in a positive run next with a punt at the net moving in the bracing air.  The No 1 (Burton) kept his peepers on matters and pushed away well.  Soon after the hosts came again, a ball into the box laden with players saw the globe saved and then Van Wyk turning home to get the game back to all square.

With just over a quarter of an hour to play the game was up for grabs although my pre-match prediction of 1-1 was looking good.  Half chances came and went, the clock ticked away, into the last 5 we went when, Widnes became a trifle static, a long Clitheroe ball was played with Gonzales in the right place at the right time and from the edge of the box sending a looping header over the befuddled keeper.  It was an out of the blue moment, a real gift and, as it turned out, the winning goal.  The referee blew for time, we headed home and pondered.  Man of the Match must go to the 2 goal hero (Stefan Gonzales) who did what he set out to do, held the ball up, be a pain in the oppositions conkers and get a couple of goals - it is as simple as that (well so it seems).  The rain was still pouring come the end of the game, I suspect this wouldn't bother the away fans as much as the home 'erberts - hey ho, a New Year awaits.

FINAL THOUGHTS - A big stadium, but still a good Non-League game can be viewed for a fair price.  Today both teams nullified each other with very few chances made.  It was always going to be a close game and perhaps, on reflection, Clitheroe did deserve it.  I can't make too many comments about either unit as I haven't seen them before during this campaign but I would suggest they do need to work harder off the ball and make sure their aim is to attack, attack and attack rather than ponder too much and end up playing back to their own goal.  These are merely personal thoughts from a punter who just likes to see a fair few games here and there and who appreciates all that goes into keeping this game alive.  2024 is just around the corner, best wishes to both clubs and their staff, I hope we can get back here in 2024 and when we do I am opting for a cup of tea instead of a coffee and expect the pies to be as good as ever - tis all about priorities.

FULL BLOODED CUP ACTION

16th December 2023 - Droylsden FC 5 v 3 Longridge Town - The shambolic state of the belfry after a year of emotional battering has seen me on the back foot as regards doing football reports of late.  It has been a tough year with the latest body blow coming via the unexpected loss of my best mate and touchline buddy STP Stu.  We pootled here and there, nattered and enjoyed many games, cafe visits and of course gigs.  He was taken a few weeks back and I have wandered around like a gutted fish ever since.  After my health scares earlier in the year, the loss of the fine Mother-in-Law that knocked the stuffing out of my wonderful wife, a few more losses on the punk scene and many everyday gripes, this has been a real shitbag of a campaign that has seen me dip into depths I thought were left behind.  Hey fuckin' ho and on we must go and so after a morn doing chores whilst the lasses went to a dance fundraiser, we three stalwarts eventually were sorted and out. My fantastic daughter was dropped at the local train station, me and the missus went to Debdale Park for a walk.  The birds were fed (utterly important), recorded (crucial), a few fungi were recorded too (a veritable must) and a warm brew was bagged (unavoidable behaviour these days) and we had a fine stroll.  We are simple folk, we want to do what we do, make a difference and be always true to one another and anyone who is decent to us - onwards.

To the football we went, Droylsden was the choice due to a friendly nudge by joint manager and decent bloke Phil Cooper.  We arrived, had a wander and gasbagged.  Seats were chosen and my pen and paper were ready.  Here are my considerations, I hope they continue where I left off and help keep people intrigued about this fine 'under the radar' game.

The start of the game saw Longridge Town put in some good possession whilst gently probing and looking for a killer ball. No 2 (Mitchell Marshall) posted a few early knocks into the box, all questions of the home defense were tidily answered. No 10 (Paul Turner) for the guests had a shout for a penalty that was ignored by the black clad central official and then Droylsden had their first sortie forth via a rapid breakaway that saw No 11 (Fuad Kasali) dash like his rear was laden with furious fire-ants. No 9 (Nellson Van) looked to receive the crucial pass but as his legs whirred and he looked to collect and bury the ball, the opposing No 1 (Kier Barry) was out to collect in the nick of time.

The game continued with both teams trying to play sound football.  A Droylsden free-kick brought the next glimmer of net bulging hope.  The ball was sent forth, flicked on and booted away.  No 8 (Benjamin Lowe) collected, made a quick dart and dink and beat the initial player in his way.  A repeat trick was had before the goal was eyed from a decent distance.  The player in ownership of the globe was undeterred and let fly a delicious shot that found the bottom corner and surely made a claim for the Fungalised goal of the season, what a way to open the game's account. The celebratory backflips were totally deserved.

Longridge now strove to respond and earned a bonus boot of their own.  No 11 (Morgan Homson-Smith) hoofed and No 9 (Dean Ing) put bonce on ball only to send it just the wrong side of the upright. Soon after the guests came again with an attack quelled and then another gratis kick earned. Homson-Smith had a dig at goal, the keeper punched away, No 7 (Scott Harries) tried to bury the follow-up but sent the ball high over the horizontal.  As The Ridge prowled with purpose they were caught with their trousers down and conkers exposed.  The ball was gained by The Bloods, a liquid 3 pass move came with Van at the apex and battling away so as to get a touch on the ball and double the lead in sterling fashion, 2 - 0 - who would have thought it?

Longridge now upped their efforts, a corner was sent into the box by Homson-Smith with the globe heading goalward but urgently palmed away by the ever-alert mitter. A follow-up corner was hoofed straight out of play - it was very disappointing.  Droylsden cultivated some good pressure in response with an angled hoof won.  The ball came, a flick on was just missed, a shot was mis-hit, Lowe gathered and weaved inward but only won yet another corner. This time the entrance of the ball in the box caused mayhem.  In, out, in, out, a few players tried to shake matters about, the result was a kick from the opposite angle that the keeper did well to punch clear.

Longridge pushed on whilst the half wound down.  No 6 (Calen Gallagher-Allison) had a chance close in to slap the sphere into the onion bag but wellied over and then a long ball found Ing who was closely marked by No 6 (Elvis Amoakwa).  The ball spurted towards goal, a deathly silence pervaded the Butcher's Arms Ground as the ball nestled in the netting - it was an own goal, a shocker and a late foothold for the trailing team.  No further action of any note came before the referee called for a break.

I had a wander for a brew but was in no mood to queue so, pointed the old pecker at the porcelain, sent forth a gush of gold, zipped up and returned to my place next to the good lady.  We checked the half-time scores, shared a bit of choccy and watched the teams roll out for period 2 whilst the discordant defecation that spilled from the distorting speakers slowly abated (how about some 60's garage, some underdog punk or even Northern Soul you blighters).

Half 2 and Longridge Town started with good impetus with a corner won. A sweet delivery was the result with the ball slapped off the underside of the bar and into the net by the awaiting Gallagher-Allison to get matters back to all square.  The Bloods were guilty of a lapse in concentration methinks.

Longridge pressed once more, a long range effort saw the keeper spill and gather at the second attempt before the home lads had a push with No 6 (Kyle Oakes) finalising matters with a punt wide.  The same team had a choice opportunity to retake the lead next when a breakaway saw two players have only the mittman to beat but get involved in a real indecisive mix up that saw the chance disappear into the ether. Undeterred, the hosts came on once more with No 10 (George West) collecting a safe pass, showcasing a pair of twinkle tootsies and after working some space, sending the ball home to recapture the advantage.  And yet again, what a delectable goal.

The action was now incessant, The Ridge advanced, a ball out wide was followed by a long laser-like cross that saw Turner nip in and just beat the keeper to level matters yet again.  This was turning into a real lottery, would the next goal be the golden ball and bag the cup victory?  

With matters balanced some end to end to action came with an Invasion of the Killer Balloons from Space still distracting some folk who were in serious danger of missing some crucial action (ooh the silly sods).  We entered the last 5, the resident pack had a free-kick which was beautifully delivered.  The keeper saved a shot, the ball went loose, No 17 (Shaquille Lewis) was on hand to bury, surely that was the clinching moment!

The last throes, Droylsden could have added another but once more two players failed to make their minds up and let the opportunity slip. This was all irrelevant though as soon after the game was sealed when the flank was dashed and a cross saw No 16 (Elliott Fenton) thwack the globe home and finalise the game at 5 goals to 3.  A few minutes extra, all done and it was time to consider the Man of the Match which went to No 3 (Harry Shipton) who was pretty ruddy tidy at the back, kept up a good work rate and was an under-the-radar chief component in a solid team's output.  

We buggered off home after the game and had a quiet evening, this had been a classic encounter and a good showcase for Non-League - here's to more of the same for the rest of the season.

FINAL THOUGHTS - It had been a couple of years sine we last visited this ground, that was with my mate STP Stu and my lasses where we saw the mighty City of Liverpool come and do what they do.  This was a choice return with two well matched teams going toe-to-toe (or pecker to pecker if you are of that persuasion) in a game that had some great goals, open play, good to honest endeavour and a certain Non-League beauty you will never find in the upper echelons of the cash cows arsehole.  Longridge Town are not at their best at the mo, but I am sure they will get there. Several players were oozing potential and goals, sometimes it is never going to be your day.  We need a trip back to The Mike Riding Ground to see this lot again, the last trip was a cracker with the hosts bagging 7 strikes against a flabbergasted opposition (there were free biscuits too - smashing).

Droylsden FC are looking a decent outfit and look set to do better as the season advances.  Many old heads are in the mix with several players recognisable from various clubs I see on my local travels.  I like the way they play with purpose and a certain freedom with individuals all working with expression and as part of the pack.  I hope we can get back and see how the team are doing before the season ends, we are ultra busy on many fronts but we do try, and on this evidence, it is ruddy well worth it! NB - cheers for the hugs and kind words Brendan Johns - it matters.

FUNGI, BEARS AND WULFS (OOOPS)

21st October 2023 - Congleton Town 3 v 1 AFC Wulfrunians - I am picking and choosing what match reports I do these days, my life is rammed to the rafters with many tasks and my arse is perpetually on the go.  Today, me and the missus were in Staffordshire leading a Fungi Walk.  In these days of self-serving foraging greed it is important that someone defies the flow and tries to get the wild world and its gems respect and appreciation.  The future is precarious, the concrete is spilling, the people are detached with posing, social media and worshipping Gods - bollocks to that.  Anyway, the walk went well, 65 species were named, we ended up filthy and fagged but reckoned some good football, Congo chips and a brew would do the business and get us back on the right track.  A 40 minute drive, into the ground and a purchase of the victuals and a viewing spot was chosen where we swilled and scoffed with earnest desire.  It had been a fair while since we last visited this fine ground, the home team was in the North West Counties Football League, the Covid nonsense was still twisting minds and the crowds when the team were less successful were not as they were today - ooh those ruddy success jockeys who appear out of the woodwork.  So, for the 32nd game of the season I thought a report would be apt and after the greasy fingers had reached for the pen and initial notes were made, I watched the game unfold and came up with the following textual twattery.

The first hint at any worthwhile action came when the home 'erberts won a gratis hoofing. The ball was neatly delivered but the keeper did well with his fists and punched the globe clear.  Mere tickings of the clock later and the ball came forth again and an angled kick was earned.  Another sweet delivery found a cranium at the back post, the ball entered the main mush of belfries with No 6 (Darren Chadwick) rising without any real pressure and nutting the ball home to break the early deadlock.

From here the Congo men pushed again, a corner came and went, a follow-up attack with No 7 (George Sankey) galloping forth like a man with recently pepper-dipped testicles.  The guest No 1 (Thomas Hayward) advanced, a shot came and the save was solid.  A corner ensued but the blue-clad No 3 (Rio Sawyers) put a good amount of crust on the globe and quelled any threat.

As matters progressed the visitors grew into the game.  A free-kick was earned after No 10 (Benjamin Worthington) was crudely tumbled.  The posted ball was decent but it only led to a swift counterattack.  This breakaway gave rise to a corner that the guests dealt with (just).  

A period of equilibrium came, all that was lacking was an accuracy of passing. A rare guest corner saw No 5 (Brad Maslen-Jones) punt forth, some in-box mayhem ensue and No 11 (Jack Sane) provide the final shot that was, in truth, wank.  Maslen-Jones hit a delicious ball forward next, a penalty shout came but only a corner was given.  The travelling manager was unimpressed, let the verbals flow and was duly sent off for his troubles.  After much jeering the AFCW pack tried to turn the screw.  The Congonians looked unsettled but made a break from the blue tidal wave.  The ball was lost, a counter punch came, Congleton's vulnerable areas were exposed, Worthington was away and looked set to bust the bollocks of the hosts.  The keeper was there to beat and beat he was, the game was all level, I think it was a fair state of play.

This was now a game up for grabs, the visitors were shading matters but the hosts always held good threat. A shout for a home pen came, was ignored by the man in the middle and from here a bit of tetchy spice entered the game.  Before matters came to a head, and after a few half chances, time was called for a break, perhaps it was just as well.

With 482 in attendance we decided to stay put for the interval.  With only a couple of bogs and one hatch for brews we felt that many of the punters in attendance would be queueing either for a cuppa or a splash - we were both happy to clench the bladder muscles and soak up the diluted sunshine.

Half two began with the odd minor threat, some real scrappy play and Congleton eventually getting a grip on the gonads of the game. Respite came briefly for the guests when Maslen-Jones had a pop that the keeper gathered at his near post.  From here matters settled with a lot of rolling around and disjointed play. Out of the mush a choice ball was played for Congo, No 9 (Daniel Cocks) collected, waltzed around the keeper and slotted home like a man ingrained with striker's instincts, splendid. The striker looked 'cock-a-hoop'.

The impetus of the game now lessened, the Congo Crew were the dictators of the pace and fought hard not to have their upperhand molested.  Pressure was gently instilled on the visiting defence although the away team did cultivate a break that Maslen-Jones finalised with a quick jab at goal which saw the keeper push behind.  The corner bore no further threat.

As the game looked to settle a rob and run moment saw Congo's No 11 (Daniel Needham) get vulgarly hacked down on the edge of the box by the opposing No 4 (Curtis Cocking) who was duly shown a scarlet card and told 'piss off out of it' (well not in those words exactly).   The resultant free-kick was shabby and went straight into the wall.  

More shots came each way, I had a 3-1 prediction and was hoping the hosts could bag another when with 3 minutes left a throw for the Wulfrunians was lost, an overhit pass was recovered by Needham who cut in, shot and somehow found the back of the net.  The keeper may have made a blooper here but shit happens.  Moments later the game was done - a home win, a prediction nailed, the chips nicely digested.  Man of the Match must go to Congleton Town's No 6 (Darren Chadwick) who put in a captain's stint, was a dominant force and repeatedly put his head on the ball and saved his side undue stress - a fine stint if ever I saw one.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Well, after a morn of fungi recording it was nice to unwind at an old favoured haunt and enjoy some chips and a brew and watch a decent game that was perhaps a little closer than the score line suggested. AFC Wulfrunians could have gained something from this one but losing their manager early on and then a player really kybosched their hopes and kept them in the lower half of the table with a busy period soon to come.  I don't think they should be in any danger of relegation, they have too many good players and put together some good footballing moves but, if heads remain heated and focus is lost, the fan could be clogged with crap before they know it.  Congleton Town are flying high at the mo but there is a heap of work to do.  This looks like a competitive league and during parts of this game they were on the backfoot and look to be out of sync.  The sign of a good team however is to win when their backs are against the wall and the bollocks are dangling low.  Today Congo showed that they know how to stand up and be counted, tuck in any trailing testes and get the job done.  I think that the next time I am on Fungal duties close by, we may be popping in again.

SLOPPY POPPIES DEFLOWERED

30th September 2023 - Portland United 2 v 0 Bournemouth Poppies - Nearly 300 miles on the clock, a drop off of our holiday gear at the Portland Bill Lighthouse, a few hello's to many fine and familiar faces and after a quick brew we were out and paying our way in to watch some more Non-League Footy.  This was the 28th game of the season, which isn't bad for a bloke immersed in wildlife duties, holding down a job and involved in the DIY music realms.  I was hoping for a good 90 minute spectacle as my lasses were with me - I feared a frown and a severe 'tut, tut' and hoped all would be well enough to return on the following Tuesday to watch the same team in a cup match, I do push my luck.  So after a warm welcome by the guys on the gate, brews and choccy were purchased and the seating positions chosen.  Predictions were made, the weather was clement and at 3pm the game duly commenced.

Half the first, and the opening threat came when the hosts won a free-kick high up the pitch with the breeze at their backs.  No 8 (Ryan McKechnie) put in a floater that had a trifle too much weight with No 6 (Jamie Symes) arriving but just not being able to make any contact.  A midfield contest ensued with both teams prodding and poking like perverted doctors but failing to make any crucial penetration.  The Poppies started to knock forth few questioning balls and gain some territorial advantage but the apical sharpness was lacking and the home lads easily mopped up any danger. Suddenly, the resident ranks broke, a free-kick was won, played and No 9 (Greg Borthwick) gathered in a seemingly innocuous position.  With back to goal a turn was made and a glimpse of the onion bag had.  A shot came, the ball was buried, this was a fine opener but surely the Poppies were rather akin to Liberace and somewhat slack in the rear department.

Portland now had their peckers enthused.  Another swift sortie, No 7 (Luke Sheehy) had the ball at his tootsies, cut in, put in a glided cross that was hurriedly defended behind for a corner.  This bonus kick was cleared but Portland continued to exert pressure.  No 4 (Josh Williams) put the next cross into the danger zone with the keeper gathering at the second attempt.  Again the home team came, No 11 (Ben Morris) fed No 10 (Brin Doyle) who swept a shot forth with the guest No 1 (Jakub Lewiarz) doing well to tip over the bar.  The corner was once more dealt with.

Bournemouth were on the ropes, the odd foray forth was easily snuffed out as the leading force looked to double the lead.  Morris had a pop from distance that wasn’t too far wide and then a quick multi-pass move was finalised by Doyle who boomed his shot into the air and duly let out a justified yell of utter disappointment.  Morris had another dig after being given time to turn in the box.  The shot took a slight deflection, the man between the uprights did well to tip over.  Again the corner brought no joy.

Several more corners came toward the Bournemouth zone of peril, the keeper earned his crust several times and in my opinion, went into the half time changing rooms as a real stand out player.  This was all well and good but his outfield compatriots needed to up their game to see that he wasn’t on the losing side come the 90 minute call.

We had a drink for the break, I was caffeine’d out so went for a cuppa-soup – it was awful.  All I can say is that the gnats around these parts must have awfully big bladders and the branding company who make this stuff have it all wrong. Surely Cuppa-Shite is a more honest tag – I will stick to a good old coffee in future that is for sure.  Following this date with defecation I needed a quick whizz, it came as no surprise that when I pointed the old John Thomas at the porcelain the smell was a subtle blend of mouldy peas, buggered chicken with a hint of rectal dust gravy – I failed to quell the smell and just hoped the next person to use the urinal had a strong constitution.

Back on the touchline and half the second soon began.  My lasses decided to sit behind me whilst I scribbled my notes.  Bournemouth started with a good spell of possession football which was noteworthy enough but few advances were made. After a Portland corner that was about as effective as a pair of tissue-based swimming trunks Bournemouth played a long ball laden with danger but the resident Symes put in an eye-catching block that surely saved his sides bacon.

Bournemouth were certainly having more of the ball but unlike the great Tony Hart, they were severely lacking in the creativity department.  The home team were eventually allowed to worm their way back into matters with an initial free-kick ruined by a rather silly infringement.  The leading team now started to display more urgency on the ball and produce a greater sense of promise when roaming forth.  A free-kick came, the ball went in and out with Borthwick sending forth a crisp shot that the keeper saved well (again).  The game now carried a good tempo, at 1-0 this was still up for grabs.  Once more Borthwick had a punt at the netting but again, the mitted protector was up to the task and stopped any bulging of the mesh.

10 minutes were left, Bournemouth had a minor push that resulted in a keeping fumble.  Somehow a break was the outcome, No 18 (Joseph Wickham) raced away and found himself with two defenders hot on his arse and only the keeper to beat.  The shot came and was an example of consummate coolness with the ball nestled in the net and doubling the teams lead. My pre-match prediction was now looking mighty good.

Action came at either end but the defenders stood firm with the guest keeper called into action yet again when No 5 (Shaun Bessant) for Portland had a poke at goal from a corner but was denied by some solid keeping.  From here the time ticked away, high end action fizzled and we were done.  The Man of the Match was a close call with Lewiarz for Bournemouth Poppies nearly getting the nod.  In the end I had to give the Fungalised pick to No 6 (Jamie Symes) for Portland United who was the veritable rock at the rear and got his head, legs and feet on everything and duly thwarted all the oppositions attempts at gaining a strike. 

FINAL THOUGHTS – A new ground visited, 2 new teams seen, a warm welcome and a viewing of what transpires in the Velocity Wessex Football League.  We can’t complain.  Thoughts on the teams were as follows:- Bournemouth Poppies tried to play too many long balls, they didn’t do enough off the ball and their options when marauding forward always seemed a little limited.  There is a lot of work to do with this lot but one thing is for sure, the keeper certainly needs to keep his place and keep putting in stints like today.  Portland United may start to build a good run from here, they have a few players that catch the eye, look to play some good football and are surely better than their current position suggests.  The key will be keeping players healthy and hungry and making sure they play wide and when attacking they do so with pace and as a unit.  We plan to watch this lot again soon, we are in the area so why not?  I do believe the next game is a cup match, I would like plenty of goals and to get another prediction right, and of course, to stay well clear of that darn soup – watch this space!

FOOTNOTE: We did watch Portland on the following Tuesday - they dominated Romsey Town in a cup match, played some delicious football and won 7 - 0.  I avoided any soup-based upset, my lasses enjoyed it and we got back to the lighthouse now PUFC fans - it may be a while before we return but when in the area, we will be on the touchline.

TRIUMPHANT TOWN

9th September 2023 - Dronfield Town 2 v 1 Armthorpe Welfare - A trip across the moors was had, we were in Hoyland for 8.50 and 10 minutes later we had entered Tinker's Cafe and were partaking of some scran, a brew and a mandible wag.  Soon after we were meeting a few good green folk and leading a walk at an area that is soon to be turned to concrete.  The suited and booted assassins of our kids futures are having an easy ride, by doing nowt is contributing to a downward swing - this punk bastard says the arse must be moved, I shall not be culpable for the shittery.  In blazing heat we pootled for a couple of hours, clocked up 65 species with some good critters in the mix.  A brew back at Tinkers was had and a good natter before we set off for some footballing action.  We initially parked up in the wrong place, found somewhere more convenient and duly checked with a resident if we could park outside his house.  The fine gent said 'yes'.  A walk was had, we took the wrong route, negotiations were made, bearings were found, the entrance of the ground was tucked away like a burrowing butt beetle in the crack of a sweating arse - phew.

The sun continued to sizzle and after acquiring drinks we made for cover.  Alas the spot chosen was still under the solar power so the top was removed and my titties duly bronzed.  Just prior to kick-off some young nippers were running themselves ragged in a mini-game of soccer and duly having a grand time of it (albeit with purple faces and dripping brows).  Penalties settled matters and after photos were taken the pitch was cleared and the main game took centre stage.

At the sacred footballing hour matters began with both teams indulging in a bit of foreplay and duly feeling each other out (by heck it was too warm for such dastardly behaviour).  No 9 (Max Rhodes) for the hosts was showing good fizz early on and was eventually released but could only send his eager shot low and slightly shy of the far stick.  Dronfield continued to make the greater advancements with a throw in laid off to No 7 (Harry Walker) who sent forth a low daisy decapitator that once again strayed the wrong side of the upright.

Armthorpe Welfare, despite being on the back foot, were grafting hard but producing very little.  A corner was eventually won due to No 2's (Luke Boxwell) determined running. The ball posted went long and the gent at the back post just couldn't stretch his neck enough to guide the ball on target.  The guests came once more after robbing the ball from a dilly-dallier.  A player dashed ahead but his number eluded me due to the shit clash of shirt and digits. Boxwell was fed and had a shot that quivered the inside of the timber.  The ball was there to be snaffled up, No 19 (Daniel Boulton) was on it like a pervert on a discarded jazz mag.  The ball was buried, 0-1 it was, the game needed it.

Dronfield were now asked questions, they responded with a long ball to Rhodes who took one touch, turned and had a pop.  The ball failed to trouble the keeper - it should have at least been on target.  With the game pattern set the guests were defending well whilst the hosts were needing to up their 'off-the-ball' work-rate. Eventually Dronfield moved with real focus and entered the box.  A shot came, the ball whizzed wide, a tackle had been made and a clattering had, the referee pointed to the spot - No 10 (Samuel Bebbington) stepped up and did a Bing Crosby - 'Straight Down The Middle' - 1 - 1 it was.

As the game progressed a certain staleness crept in with no team making any great strides.  A solid run from the home No11 (Joe Pearson) looked promising and when his pass found Rhodes one expected another goal to follow.  Alas the punt at the netting was off the mark (again).  Soon after No 20 (Callum Mawbey) was setting his sights on the edge of the box but was also guilty of missing the mark - the shooting boots were certainly in need of a bit of spit and polish that was for sure.

Rhodes for the hosts continued to be an active role player and after dashing the flank, riding a tackle and putting in a neat cross he must have been slightly frustrated by the visiting keeper who read matters well and collected with relative ease.  

The half was coming to a close, Armthorpe were looking a little disjointed, the Dronfield pack seemingly growing in desire and belief.  Suddenly the guests had a lapse in focus, a long ball caught them with their trousers down and conkers dangling.  Rhodes was away and only had the keeper to beat which he did with a cool brow and gave his side the uplifting half-time lead.  Both teams looked ready for the break with Dronfield Town displaying a certain spring in the step as they left the field.

My good lady went for the half-time drinks whilst I glazed the paps and perused my notes.  There were many folks flagging in the heat and I saw one bloke take on the look of a beetroot with problematic blood pressure.  At least he was art and abart though, bloody good on him and I hope a good cold beer was waiting for him when he got home. 

And with the good lady rejoining me the second half got underway.  Dronfield had their peckers up (in this heat I really don't know how they managed it) and created an early chance that saw the final shot end up in the awaiting keepers arms.  After some AW pressure that lacked the killer touch Dronfield broke but Rhodes who was the apical component tried to execute a cheeky chip that only transpired to be a rather limp lob lob (no wonder in this heat). Down the other end we went,  The robust No 5 (James Baxendale) chanced his shank with a 35 yard free-kick.  The ball was sweetly belted, the direction was sound but the home No 1 (Lewis Naylor) was up to the task and produced a quality save.  The resultant corner bore bugger all.

A few delays for injuries now impeded the general flow and little worthy of reporting came the way of this onlookers orbs.  The visitors eventually earned themselves a corner with the delivery being sharp and with a gentle swerve.  I was as surprised as anyone to see that no contact was made and the choice ball was wasted.  From nowhere Pearson for Dronfield Town was released, all the player needed do was beat the back-pedaling keeper.  The attempted chip was made, I immediately reached for the pen and considered scribbling such caveman descriptions as 'wank', 'shite' and 'crap-o-tastic' - I stayed rather gentlemanly and noted the miss down as a 'ruddy bad show sir'.

Shots did come at each end, somehow the scorecard stayed clear of any further blemishes.   A player for the welfare had a dig that lacked weight but somehow found its way through a pack of players and kissed the upright - this was a stern warning for the leading tribe and note was duly taken.  The final throes saw Bebbington for the home ranks dash forth only to see his effort palmed over.  The angled hoof came, no attackers made a lunge although the ball eventually fell to No 12 (Connor Chapell) whose shot at the angle led to another corner.  Again the globe was posted, the keeper fumbled and for a split second the chance to bury the game was there, somehow the AW ranks survived.

A final Dronfield corner saw a header saved on the line, a shot blocked and the guests survive by the skin of their now clammy scrotums.  Soon after the game was done and the final desperate scramblings were resigned to the ranks of 'Non-League History'. A short contemplation before putting the rear in gear and Man of the Match was given to Dronfield Town's No 5 (Arran Bovill), a very solid component who put the head on the ball when needed, worked with composure and defended like a good un' on a very trying day.  

We had a good journey home and were happy with our day out.  A few wildlife records, a footy report and sincere thanks is all we can offer - on we go.

FINAL THOUGHTS - A grand day out again, a decent ground visited and two teams seen who are struggling so far but, with patience, commitment and belief can turn things around and get the season moving.  The guests just lack a certain belief it seems and communication between players is not 100%.  many a time possession was had with no options given by players off the ball and looking to make space.  This left the one in possession in two minds which of course caused undue fuss, an area I feel that needs looking at.  There are one or two good players in the midst of this team though, the hefty bloke at the back a man with a footballing brain, one particular example.  Dronfield Town created many chances and should have grabbed more than just two goals today - is this a theme that will haunt them throughout the campaign?  I liked the movement upfront and the eager effort put in by several players.  Again, the movement off the ball is key to keeping the opposing forces guessing and on the back foot but I reckon I have seen enough today to note a team set to move up a few league places in the near future.  A snippet of positivity, combined with some good work will help them along - here's hoping both teams do the business as matters unwind and if I can catch them again at some point my support shall be there.  Onwards with the underdogs and if anyone is wondering, no we didn't dash home to watch England - that patriotic claptrap and making idols out of overpaid prima-donnas isn't for me - tha' gotta keep it real tha' knows.

BLANKETY BLANK OR WANKETY WANK

28th August 2023 - Atherton Laburnum Rovers 0 v 0 Shelley FC - I turned 58 today, it was nothing to celebrate and I wanted nothing.  My kind lasses got me a few gifts though and a book about a killer fungus was a horrifying treat that I couldn't wait to start.  Prior to the game myself, Gillian and my daughter Katie visited my parents, two aging buggers with a cranked look at life and who want to just keep things simple - nowt wrong with that.  My Dad made me one of his fruit cakes. I am a cake lover, let me tell you, his cakes are the best - they are of a rich brown in colour, mightily moist and adorned with sumptuous fruits - akin in fact to a Gibbon's defecation. I had a quick slice before we left and it was spot on the mark and bore no resemblance in taste to a primates pooping's (thank goodness).

Before arriving at the ground proper we acquired a spot of lunch, parked up at Crilly Park soon after and after noting a few Milky Conecap Fungi (Conocybe apala) in the carpark entered the ground with my mate STP Stu.  Brews were had, it was a tall order it seemed with my cranial gunk getting all confused and the good lady serving equally perplexed - I think it may be an age thing in my case, the lass serving didn't look to be going bald so all I could blame it on was overspill of nervous energy when being faced with such a good looker as me (yes, I am being self-effacing).

So perches taken, jaws wagged and anticipation was of a home win with hopes for an abundance of birthday goals.  When I stated earlier that I didn't really want anything for my birthday I didn't realise two aural scouts from each team had been listening in - ooh the rotten bastards.

The game began with an early Shelley corner.   It was bilge.  ALR cultivated their first attack with a sugar-sweet ball finding No 10 (Kyle Robinson-Murray) who struck first time.  The protector of the meshing was on it, the ball went loose and a corner was won.  The ball entered the box, all craniums were missed and a careless handball quashed any further danger.  The hosts continued to create the greatest impetus, No 6 (Jack Lever) and No 7 (Jack Flight) partook of some good link-up play with a cross delivered that was too high for the nut of No 9 (Lewis Rawsthorn) to make any major impression with.

From here the shots came but no penetration was had.  Rawsthorn for the hosts put a free-kick over the horizontal and Shelley had a rare foray forth after the home lads pissed about in midfield and lost possession. No 8 (James Bootland) was the beneficiary of the ball but his shot on goal could only find the awaiting keepers mid-section and clutching arms. Straight up the other end we went with Lever chancing his shank but instead of hitting the striking zone he duly put the wind up local resident Mrs Green who was in a nearby garden hanging up her husbands rather grey and frayed smalls - it was a wayward shot to say the least.

The first goal seemed an almost impossibility although the guests had a chance when the home mitter went on walk-about.  The moment of madness was survived but soon after the man between the sticks earned his crust when a loose ball was drilled by the Shelley No 10 (Jugal Thapa). A neat tip over the bar was needed to stop the initial goal, the corner that followed was ruddy awful.

ALR now turned the screw and applied some fair pressure.  A cross needed goalkeeping attention and was palmed away with an ensuing corner needing some cranial heave-ho to quell any threat.  As the first 45 minute period wound down Shelley broke with purpose.  No 3 (Daniel Lockwood) played to Bootland, a shot came and expectations rose but the ball was a defiant and awkward bastard today and rolled wide of the upright with disappointing determination.  The half ended just after the ALR's Robinson-Murray tried a hopeful lob that came closer to the aforementioned Mrs Greens shithouse window rather than the gaping onion bag.  Seconds later  Rawsthorn had the ball in the box only 5 feet out from the goal and somehow managed to put his effort wide - ooh it was enough to bring tears to ones eyes.

No movement was had for the break, we stayed put and considered the possibilities of a 0 - 0 game (what is known as a 'bullet' to many footballing zealots).  The chances seemed high and so, being a kind and caring soul, I offered my mate Stu a cyanide pill so as to avoid the 90 minute death knell - one has to be thoughtful in these situations.

The second period began, Atherton were playing with great gusto and determined to fracture the deadlock.  Several balls were put into the box with one falling to the feet of Flight who had time to bulge the bag but recklessly blazed over.  

The rain now began to fall, the delicate onlookers ran for cover, a chill pervaded the carcass, all and sundry needed the on-pitch action to warm the cockles.  Shelley surged, a cross from the end line was met by No 11 (Daniel Vinten) who put his attempt above the timber and then Robinson-Murray for the hosts was put free with only the keeper to beat.  The first goal of the day was looking likely but somehow a shot of shittery was borne and the target was yet again... missed.

Great energy and vigour was being shown all over the pitch, alas without composure and quality it was all wasted.  Several more shots came at the Shelley goal, the end results were utterly disappointing for players and fans alike.  Robinson-Murray came closest with a shot close-in but the travelling No 1 (Paul Day) produced a good save and kept his side in the mix.  Soon after a lost cause was chased down, a cross to ALR's Flight came but the contact was poor in the extreme, it was a golden chance wasted.

A slight tension now crept into the game as a few dubious decisions rankled several hoofers.  2 corners came for the home lads.  The first of these angled kicks saw the keeper fumble in the box but no takers arrive.  The second was met by the dome of No 4 (Lewis Adams) but the globe would not stay on target.  Shelley responded, the ball somehow managed to ping upward and when falling was met by the boot of 15 (Edward Busfield) whose choice volley was neatly dealt with by an alert goalie.

Time was now slipping away, once more shots came and shots flew wide, the referee decided that if we played until doomsday a goal would not be had and so, with great kindness, blew his whistle and called the game to a halt. In a game of no goals I am giving the Man of the Match to Shelley's No 1 (Paul Day) who did enough and made sure he made his presence felt as well as being in the right place at the right time when matters required it.  Personally I would have preferred him to have let 10 goals in, done a streak round the pitch and given me a £100 cheque but, such is this warped footballing realm.  We all went homeward without any goals to discuss and excitement at level 'minimum' but, it is always a pleasure to visit Crilly Park and today was just that.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Both teams need to do some work and do it pretty sharpish.  I reckon a bit of focus on players shouting for the ball, making sure their presence is felt and running off the ball would help both units improve the game day outcome.  Of course, it goes without saying that the shooting boots need attention and the composure at the apical end of the pitch needs great attention.  I think Shelley will get better as the season progresses as long as they play as a complete unit and maintain a certain stubborn resistance.  Atherton LR are in a good position but the arse could easily drop out of the campaign if the bag is not bulged and teams are not buried when the chance arises.  We are still in the embryonic stages of a long season but games and points are slipping by in what is a competitive league. It will be interesting to watch what transpires over the next few weeks and then take stock of matters - hopefully the fortunes of all will change for the better and some lucky blighter will be treated to a goal fest - we shall see.

BRIDGES CROSSED AND BURNT

27th August 2023 - Worsborough Bridge Athletic 0 v 3 Ramsbottom United - A trip across the moors was had early doors.  We left the leaking skies of Stockport and arrived in Hoyland one hour later whereupon we visited one of our mates for a brew, a catch up and a walk.  The walk was decent enough with a few fungi, insects, flowers, birds and galls all named and shamed.  A coffee break was grand and the downpour to close meant we had to make a dash for a lift and make sure we kept to our schedule.  After a short rest me and the missus bid our farewells and arrived at a sunny Worsborough Bridge to pay our dues, have a gypsies and perch the rears in anticipation of some FA Cup action.  We did acquire a brew, my cup of cha was adequate, the lasses hot chocolate lacked milk and was akin to a cup of sewerage - it was poured away with great disappointment.  Whilst watching the warm-up I checked around the ground to see if any waterpipes were connected to the shit-laden sea of the Blackpool coast - it seemed Barnsley had its own supply of turd water after all.

The game began at 2pm, the opening 2 minutes saw me amend my prediction for a draw and go for an away win, Worsborough didn't look to be up for this and this is what duly transpired.

The start was quiet enough but Ramsbottom looked more controlled and eventually won a dubious corner.  The ball was delivered with good pace but the strike-force was lacking and no early shocker was had.  A move soon after saw 4 quick passes lead to a cross into the Worsborough box with No 8 (Pa Jenkins) pulling the trigger and looking disappointed to see the ball fly wide of the mark.  Another smooth move mere moments later saw No 11 (Kida Chingwaro) out wide, post a fine ball to No 9 (Matthew Dudley) who put his belfry on the leather and sent the globe, once again, shy of the strike-zone - it really should have been the opening goal.

From here the home team scrambled and won a free-kick in the far corner of the pitch.  The ball was sent into the danger area, No 8 (Conor Glavin) popped up at the back stick but his headed attempt was easily gathered by the gloved guardian.  As matters progressed a certain balance was disrupted when the hosts were robbed of possession.  No 7 (Henri Ogunby) was the thieving blighter and he duly advanced with purpose.  The resident No 1 (Brett Souter) left his line to quell the threat but the wannabe marksman stayed cool and slotted the ball into the awaiting onion bag.  0-1 it was with the hosts now looking at a long afternoon of footballing labour.

The Rams had their peckers up, although The Briggers had a rare sortie forth that ended with a shot off target and a offside decision just in case.  The game started to throw-up all manner of midfield mistakes but, more often than not, any loose ball was won by the guests.  No 9 (Luke Francis) for the resident ranks though nearly earned himself some 'assist'  points when he collected, swiveled and played the ball to No 7 (Harley Holt) who let fly a screamer that just wouldn't stay on line - it was a ruddy good effort deserved of more.

Matters became more competitive as time ticked on with Worsborough rising to the task.  Francis had a pop but his effort was closer to decapitating a flasher in the local country park than hitting the back of the net.  In return No 10 (Conal Gallagher) blazed a punt but only found the awaiting keepers midriff.  As the half wore down Ogunby for Rammy tried a cheeky in-box flick that didn't come off and even though the travelling blues stayed on top, that second goal wouldn't come.

We stayed put for the break, I noted that the recent hot chocolate that we poured away had given rise to a few fungal specimens and several flies that had partook of the said liquid were now lying on their backs, twitching with the final throes of life.  By heck that was a close call! These Yorkshire folk must have some tough constitutions.

After a snack and a banana we watched as the teams reappeared and expected the away win to be cemented in stone.  Rammy applied some good early pressure, a bit like a fat masseur squeezing one's testicular bag.  The first move forth came from a throw in with a delicious cross ensuing, Chingwaro at the back post nodding back and No 9 (Matthew Dudley) arriving just in time to stretch a shank and poke the ball home.  The lead was doubled, it looked like the match was won already.

Worsborough Bridge responded with a few forays forward that were lacking in vision and apical threat.  Ramsbottom held firm, won a free-kick that Dudley twatted over - I think the time for more creativity was upon us.  No 11 (James Woodhouse) was working up a good lather for the home lads but when released he delayed the shot and allowed the defender to block with relative ease.  More attacks came at each end, the only snag was an unwillingness to shoot on sight.

A few corners came, a yellow card and some chances went begging.  Some argy-bargy was unnecessary and not helping the home team's cause. Eventually Rammy moved forth with purpose with the eye-catching Chingwaro on the ball and looking to make a difference.  A pass and the ball was pinged skyward.  As the globe fell Chingwaro waited, lashed at the perfect moment and sent the ball home to bag his sides 3^rd and grab the goal of the game.  It was a choice moment as this player had really impressed with his display today.

Now the game began to wind down, the puff was running out of matters and the result was settled. A Rammy free-kick saw No 6 (John Black) look to add icing on the cake but the shot was wide of the mark.  A shot out of the blue nearly raised the roof (and a few erections no doubt) when a 30+ yard sizzler took the paintwork of the underside of the bar and yet somehow stayed out of the goal.  Cripes that would have been a beauty.  As the final seconds dwindled no further shake-ups came and when the referee blew there could be no complaints from either team.  Ramsbottom United's No 11 (Kuda Chingwaro) was the Man of the Match for me, a player with good feet, neat control, some solid composure and a willingness to work forward - the goal was a deserved bonus too.

We buggered off home at the final peeps, this had been a lovely visit although matters were marred at the end when I saw the local ambulance service carrying out a stomach pump on a guy gibbering away and uttering the words 'No, No, No - not the fuckin' liquid Cadburys again' - now I wonder what that was all about?

FINAL THOUGHTS - A grand ground to visit and one I hope to return to again in the near future, preferably after a good walk at Worsborough CP and some local tea and cake.  The home team though were outclassed today and lost too many 50/50 balls and didn't work as a force especially at the strike end of the park.  I am sure today was not reflective of how the season is going and I did note several players busting a bollock throughout the game and playing with undying fervour.  If composure is had and work on player awareness is concentrated on then the future may be a little more rosy than many may think.  Ramsbottom United seem a different prospect than the team I saw lose by 4 goals to a very efficient Wythenshawe FC.  They hold the ball well, battle in all areas and read the game with insightfulness.  The main area to work upon is making sure opportunities are taken and when they have a side on the ropes they duly pummel them into complete submission.  Despite being on top for most of this game they failed to bury matters early on.  A shock goal by the opposing force could so easily have brought unnecessary pressure.  Having said this, I reckon Rammy are capable of a good cup run and will only get better as the season unfolds - I am sure I will catch them again, hopefully in the next round of the cup (the fingers are crossed).