WHEN TWO TOWNS GO TO WAR

20th October 2020 - Congleton Town 1 v 0 Hanley Town - It seems like an age since myself and my wonderful wife were last at this chosen ground tonight and we were very much looking forward to settling in and watching 2 teams battle out, what looked on paper, a very competitive contest.  This is one of our favourite haunts with the chips and tea a most important part of the visit due to them being, as stated on several occasions, the best in the NWCFL.  We indulged once more, picked a nice sitting point, scoffed and slurped and nattered about art, the upcoming game and our daughter who is a busy bee and, just like her parents, trying to be decent, put back and pootle on.  The teams warmed up, a crowd gathered and then prior to kick-off we are requested to don a mask to watch the game.  We duly moved to a standing point rather than smother ourselves and so hoped that the rain would stay away and most of the match would be battled out near to our new viewing position - we don't ask for much in life!

So the game got underway, Hanley attired in dashing grey were the first unit to trespass into territory labelled danger as a 3 pass sequence was finalised by No 11 (Daniel Needham) who, despite having a space, could only place his shot into the abdomen of the awaiting keeper.  The Congleton response took a few minutes to fully brew and eventually came via No 9 (Aaron Johns) who darted, let fly with great impetus and forced the mittman to make a quite smart save.  The game grew in pace and, may it be said, tetchiness, which was far from conducive in making for a free-flowing and attractive game.  Hanley managed to garner 3 corners on the bounce, each one was efficiently dealt with by the home pack and a breakthrough didn't look like coming any time soon.

Hanley came once again, a superb crossball found Needham who dashed, hammered the ball across the face of goal only for the two incoming belfries to arrive just a fraction of a second too late.  True chances now became like a first edition copy of Arthur Runcibles 'The History of the Spoon' - a rare thing indeed with Hanley shading matters and looking the most likely to score but with Congleton rigid in defence and keeping matters tight.  Despite the home team's close marshalling Hanley came again, No 8 (Callum Feeney) dashed and ended up on the floor inside the box.  A penalty shout was had, it seemed to be given and then taken away - one set of players were livid, the other offered great applause to the officials - can you guess which was which?  Ooh the twisted buggers.  

The affair now became a little too feisty for its own good with many players using their gobs rather than their feet and not helping the flow of the contest.  The hosts eventually had a flourish, a shot blazed from the midst of the action but the save that followed was more than adequate.  Again the reborn home pack came, some brisk passing resulted in No 9 (Aaron Johns) walloping from fairly close in, again the No 1 (Adam Lawrence) did enough and tipped neatly over.  A corner followed, all heads were missed once more - were we destined for another lowly scoring game.

The half ended with more niggles and a lack of expression on the globe, I was hoping the second period would see the noggins get more zoned in and both teams go for the full-on win.

It was too far to get a brew for half-time, we suspected there would be a queue and besides we couldn't be arsed to move.  To add, of late I had been starved of goals, my footballing gut was rumbling and I needed a feast from the onion bag - surely this wasn't going to be a strike free bullet, no wonder I didn't have enough energy to purchase a liquid dipped bag.

The teams came out for period two, the home lads had a renewed vitality and went about their work more quietly (it was good to see). A corner was earned, No 8 (Jonathan Beaumont) had the ball at his feet, the shot failed to come quick enough and when it did a firm block was made.  Another shot came, another body got in the way - the action was building, hold on tight ya buggers,

Hanley pounced next, the move was sweet, No 7 (Tom Ashton) led a break, a cut back was cleared with No 8 (Callum Feeney) sending forth a howler that went inches over the bar.  The game was on a 50/50 tightrope, one goal would certainly win this one but who the Hell would bag it.  Congo burst a scrotal sac next, a low ball into the box met the cranium of No 5 (Richard Duffy) but his neck lacked the multi-jointed assets of a Barn Owl and the ball was sent wide.  Hanley looked a trifle rattled but kept their heads on the job and looked to sneak a poke at goal.  Ashton did have a punt but the effort was weak and never in danger of bulging the meshing.

Flying forth next were the hosts, No 10 (Jordan Johnson) lashed over and then No 8 Beaumont executed a cute dummy, Johnson was on it and his cross was unfortunate not to be touched home by the incoming No 12 (Daniel Cope).  Soon after this close call a coming together in the corner saw No 3 (Jonathan Swale) get sent off for the hosts.  It was a moment of embarrassing madness - if Congleton ended up losing this, this was the man to blame.  

This was now a good game of football, there was little in it with a penalty shout for Congleton waved away and a Hanley header from a free kick not finding the target area.  Soon after and a corner was won by the resident pack due to impeccable work by Beaumont.  The ball was sent from the angle, the keeper grabbed with ease and then seemingly clobbered an opposing player and was given his marching orders.  As per, the only virus to be truly afraid of is 'insanity' - tonight we witnessed two folk who were truly struck down with it.  To rub salt in a gaping wound a penalty was given and in the 94th minute at that.  If the ball was buried that would be it and after the previous night's last minute 1 - 0 penalty win I had a strong sense of Deja Vu to say the least. So, up stepped No 17 (Aaron Bott), the man between the sticks was now the Hanley Sub Joseph Thomspon - who would be the end of game hero.  The answer, Bott, who stroked the ball home with good pace and brought great joy to his teammates and the home fans.  A few kicks later the game was over - by heck The Bears had left it late.  Man of the Match was a tough choice but I thought Congleton Town's No 8 (Jonathan Beaumont) had a solid game, put himself about, had good ground coverage and made one or two select runs in the midst of some quick action.  Job done.

We nipped off sharpish after the game, a slight chill had set in and we were fagged.  We had avoided a goalless draw again...just.  Things are getting too close for comfort.

FINAL THOUGHT - The game tonight was of two halves I thought.  The first was marred by too much griping, name calling and a lack of focus which really affected both teams.   The second half was more like it with a well-fought tussle had between two units perfectly balanced.  Hanley look a fair bet to hold their own again this season and are pretty solid throughout.  I couldn't judge them too harshly on their sharpness in front of goal tonight as they were marked well and given little in the way of a direct opportunity.  It has been a while since I visited their ground, maybe I have an excuse to do so again and give a clearer verdict.  Congleton Town frustrate, one always expects them to do better than they do but they seem to fall short of the mark.  Tonight they spluttered in part, flowed like molten larva in others and, if they keep their heads on the game, stick to the basics and keep on galloping with belief they may have their best finish for a goodly while. A final minute penalty is perhaps the touch of luck needed to light the touchpaper and send the team on a good roll - I see they are playing Avro next - that will be a tough one, I will be watching mighty closely and in the meantime, look forward to my next trip down here and of course, to caning another tray of chips!

WASH-OUT

19th October 2020 - Stockport Town 1 v 0 Cammell Laird 1907 - A long fungalised walk was had the day before this game, we wandered 8 miles, clocked up many species and came home fagged out with a bundle of fungal specimens for microscope work.  I had booked three days off work and day one was spent looking at micro-intricacies and getting the myco-list up to 132 species.  This straining of the cranial juices had somehow twanged a cerebral wire and I ended up suffering from that rare disease known as 'Abstract Tourettes' (shit, twat, wank) - see what I mean.  I apologise if the following football report is invaded with such abnormalities (frog nobs) but at least I am still scribbling and trying to make the best of matters.  I arrived at the ground in good time, nattered with STP Stu and Gareth and Sandra Evans with only myself opting for an home win.  Just prior to kick off the weather started to turn (rubber nipples and arsecracks) and I was hoping the football could be a little more warming - it turned out I was a foolish imp hoping for the impossible.

The game began (tortoise turds), the action was tame and both teams looked to be snuffing one another out with the guests obviously coming with the game plan of 'soak and spring'.  A few lively tackles brought great uproar from both benches, in truth, there was nothing malicious to be seen.  The Town made most of the early running with the Laird happy to absorb.  The host's problem was the lack on inventiveness up front and that decisiveness when faced with a possible chance to have a pop.  Matters were not helped when the resident No 9 (Aaron Knight) limped off and the rain began to tumble with more urgency. 

Halfway through the first half and little was happening to speak of leaving me to consider sitting by the fireside, sipping tea and watching a re-run of Hawaii Five-O (Fuck em' Danno).   At last a shot on target came as the home No 2 (Chiek Thiam) propelled himself forth with great desire and let fly from a fair range.  The ball stayed at an adequate height for the keeper to make a good one-handed save which led to a corner.  The angled kick brought no further excitement and the game progressed to the break in a purely flatline and quite numbing manner (pubic piss-ants).  The guests seemed happier with the situation, they were utterly disciplined and suffocation their opponents ambition - the problem was, many on the sideline were becoming bored shitless.

The rain abated, we onlookers stood firm and hoped for a ray of sunshine - if not, the magic mushrooms I had recently found would have to suffice.

The second period came, The Town had a free-kick, it produced bugger all as did a corner and another 2 gratis-boots - what a crock this game was.  Eventually Thiam for the hosts produced a spark with a great run that earned his side another kick from the angle.  The ball was delivered, the guests were solid, No 9 (Luke Blondel) was at the apical part of a break, No 6 (Leighton Egan) was at the back and produced a quite exceptional tackle to quell the threat.  From the corner the ball was nutted out and boomed back, alas the shot flew with pace right over the crossbar.

Next action (by heck this was getting too much), Cammell Laird gained possession from nothing, No 12 (Jay Thomas) let rip a 35 yard howitzer that sizzled through the air and headed to the top corner.  The save by the home No 1 (Morgan Piper) was outrageously top class, what a great moment, a veritable explosion in a desert.  From here The Town tried to move up a gear, No 8 (Shakeel Jones-Griffiths) was tumbled on the edge of the box but the free-kick by No 12 (Rourke Neal) was disappointing (fart potatoes).  

The final stages of a quite indigestible game came, Laird had a corner delivered but was headed wide and then a last gasp flourish saw Stockport's Jones-Griffiths shoot on the turn, the keeper block and in-box havoc ensue.  In the midst of the mayhem a shout rent the air, pleading for a penalty - it seemed an infringement had occurred and the eagle-eyed referee had witnessed it.  A Cammell Laird player was sent walking, it was the last minute and No 15 (Max Dickov) shouldered the responsibility to bury the ball and bag three points.  The ball was placed and stroked home with aplomb - it turned out to be the last action and at 1 - 0 we finished the night's events (buttocks, bollocks and boiled eggs).  Man of the Match goes to Cammell Laird's No 5 (Callum Hulmston) who may have ended up in the showers earlier than expected but who I thought gave a cracking performance at the back, helped hold the ranks in position and who really worked up a good lather - I hope this mention is of some consolation.

FINAL THOUGHT - I am always upbeat about footy (conkers, toenails and botty thrush) but tonight there was little to be positive about.  Shitty weather, two teams blanking each other out and little in the way of chances.  My mate Gareth said there were only 4 real shots on goal - I reckon he could be in danger of exaggeration there.  Cammell Laird, to give them credit, came to stifle and stifle they did and on one or two occasions nearly pinched a victory.  The late penalty blow against them wasn't deserved but if you indulge in these tactics then you play with fire - lesson learned tonight I hope (sizzle, todge, ouch).  Stockport Town continued from where they left off last time I watched them and severely underwhelm.  Their play is quick, smooth and sharp at times but when it comes to carrying out the final assassination they just seem to be lacking and always in a state of utter indecision.  There will come a game when they will brush aside a team with a bundle of goals but if they continue to play like this then it will be a long old season that may get on one or two peoples tits.  I will be back come the next Monday night fixture - I hope I attend and return home in a more stable mental condition (belch, fanny, mallard shit)!

GOLDEN GRALAMS HOME CRUISE

17th October 2020 - Lostock Gralam 3 v 0 Knutsford FC - Up and dabbling - the recent fungus list was updated to 103 species with several county 'firsts' in the mix.  Hours of microscopy was needed to compile the total but I got there with a few pesky species eluding the ID process and shrivelling before I could get to them.  After a busy morn my wife and my spore-laden self set out to this new ground, got mucked around by the in-car SatNav but eventually made it in time to have a brew, a choccy bar, acquire pics of teamsheets and have a catch up with the roaming STP Stu.  All 3 of us were agreed that this was a fine set up and of a fairly picturesque standard - the added Shaggy Ink Caps and Pleated Ink Caps were a mere bonus.  We headed to the small stand to watch the game, the clouds were not to be trusted and besides, it had a seating area where we could take shelter if precipitation did occur or if the old boiled eggs (legs) started griping.  We didn't have long to wait for the teams to make an appearance - I was prepared to scribble again, this is what the ink was seen to say.

After some good galloping the hosts won an early corner that entered the box, was played out and rattled back from distance by No 10 (Liam Collins).  The keeper read matters and held the travelling globe with relative ease.  The visitors were unsettled, a bad defensive pass was pilfered, the home No 11 (Joseph Woolley) was played in and looked to penetrate but was swiftly neutered as the offside flag was waved.  Eventually the guests won a free-kick, No 11 (Matt Hanson) could only strike the wall and watch as the Lambs went on a breakaway.  A ball was played forth, Collins chased but looked to be too late as keeper and defender closed in.  The two marshalling men however collided, the ball squeezed free and Collins duly fed on the scraps and slotted home - 1 - 0, the touch-paper was lit.

The hosts were now on it, another attack came after much battling.  The ball went out wide and a delicious delivery followed.  No 9 (Jack Woolley) escaped the rear ranks, the chance to shoot was delayed by a fraction of a second which gave the mittman just enough time to come out and snaffle up the sphere.  Within the twitch of a nervous man's nob Joseph Woolley was in again after No 7 (Ryan Jackson) produced a choice twist and turn, fed his comrade and watched him fire straight at the goalie.  This was a good stint to say the least.

Knutsford managed to get a grip on matters next with a decent passing sequence deserved of a better punctuation mark than No 3's (Dan Quinn) belt over.  The Gralam Gang were quick to reply, a streaking move saw Joseph Woolley on the flank, provide a swift cross which No 9 (Jack Woolley) struck first time albeit with little gumption and no direction - the man between the sticks had no problems snuffing matters out.  

Knutsford had a free-kick and corner next, both caused little fuss for the zoned-in home ranks.  These 2 gratis gifts did lead to a session of pressure but Lostock stood firm due to great discipline and a deep-rooted work ethic.  The guests had another break before the half-time respite, a low shot was deflected wide and the corner booted long with No 4 (Adam McGeoghegan) not even close with his nutted attempt.  Just shy of the interval Lostock posted another ball into the danger zone with the opposing defence getting their K'nut's in a knot and nearly scoring an own goal - luckily they survived and soon after...it was time for tea.

A wander, drinks acquired and we had barely returned to out seats when the teams were ready to roll once more.  The questions were - Would the Grey Lambs gambol on or slip up and have their tails docked or would Knutsford strain their knackers to get back into this one or end up rupturing their own sense of rhythm - either way, this was an enjoyable game thus far and more of the same would suffice.

The Knuts Nomads started this second period brightly, Lostock though mopped up with undue fuss, ignited a spark and dashed forward with obvious threat.  A run and cross were quality laden, Jackson waltzed in, remained cool and stroked home.  This was looking like a very comfortable performance.  Lostock Gralam applied more pressure, akin to a half-nelson applied to the throat of Jackie Pallo by the butter-haired bugger Mick McManus.  Knutsford made 3 substitutions in one go, a game changer or an indication of desperation - who knows but if one more wrong move was had they would be losing this one by three submissions and one great fall.

We progressed into the bout, the guests had a corner hoofed straight at the keeper, the home lads won a free-kick which Collins cracked at the No 1 who fumbled and allowed Collins to poke home and knock the stuffing out of the opposing force.  

A battling session ensued, Collins had a pop pushed wide, a corner came and caused chaos and then the ball was buried in the net but the liner saw an infringement and called for offside.  Knutsford had a bonus boot punched away, a rebuild came with a cute ball over the top.  No 17 (Carl McCurrie) was on it, the shot was true, the mitter stretched and pushed over.  The corner produced sod all but soon after No 16 (Charlie Rodick) was slipped through with the player picking his spot but denied by the gloved guardian's outstretched shanks. Well spread that man, well spread. 

From here the game had balance but Lostock looked in control.  Joseph Woolley had a shot dragged wide, the home keeper got clattered and then No 15 (Danny Adjekum) dashed like a demon with a freshly peppered pecker and placed the ball on a plate for Joseph Woolley to bury - alas the shot went shy of the target, I suspect my remark about a seasoned sausage didn't help matters.

The final splutterings came, Lostock's No 12 (Miles Wady) produced a defensive header that nearly ruptured his own goal and then a shot by No 17 (Bradley West) flashed across the goalmouth with No 14 (Barney Wynne) having a follow-up shot that trembled the vertical.  That should have been the fourth, it wasn't and a few kicks later we were done.  Man of the Match was an easy choice, No 3 (Robbie Jones) of Lostock Gralam was utterly faultless and put in a capital stint with a calm and confident approach that showed how the game can be played with focus and good effort.  I always like a sure-footed defender who plays at his own pace - today was such an example.

We strolled around the ground after the match whereupon I spied 4 leaf galls and a fellow in the shrubbery doing nude press-ups and reciting the Lostock Graham team in reverse order.  Apparently something satanic was going on and the host team were being granted favour by the horned master due to these naked exercises and bizarre incantations.  It takes all sorts folks - I'll stick to being a Sikh, tis a shame I sold my turban to pay for the entrance fee - hey ho, Non-League over religion any day!

FINAL THOUGHT - Firstly and to Knutsford FC - a team not at the races today and just lacking in creativity and general 'oomph'.  From the off they were kept on the back peg, they looked to be playing too narrow at times and when in a commanding position on the park just lacked any viable options.  There is work to be done here, work that will need attention to detail and some special sharpness added to the off-the-ball awareness.  This is Knutsford though, a club with a long history of being a good Cheshire League side - they will get things right, that is for sure.  Lostock Gralam were very good value today and were simply on top in all areas.  If the shooting boots were really on fire today they could have bagged a half dozen (if not more) but to be fair, 3 goals, a clean sheet and many good performances is nothing to criticise.  The fact they played some good football, have a fine ground and set up and when summer time comes, have some great 'perches under the birches' to enjoy means that we shall return and offer our support - I am already looking forward to it.

I was quite taken by today's ground, it is now one of my current faves, I shall continue pootling about and supporting these real and genuine places - with my punk spirit the premiership is poison and Non-League is the only way - today has once again reinforced why!

HOME DAY BLUES

13th October 2020 - Irlam FC 0 v 2 Winsford Utd - In a scenario where uncertainty brandishes its private parts and keeps us all on the back foot with its constant bewildering flashes I am striving to stay focused and just ruddy well crack on.  So far I have waggled my own nib and scribbled several reports as well as having attended a few friendly matches too.  The powers-that-be are trying hard to piss on everyone's chips but mine are still warm, hopeful and free from the splashing penis-produced 'yellow vinegar'.  Of late I am in the maelstrom of much ado about something and am squeezing in as much as possible in the trying circumstances.  Work was long and testing today, a mad rush when home saw tea swallowed with haste, a quick tidy up had and a rattle on the punch bag used to relieve some inner tension.  The good lady arrived soon after, we were headed to New Mills tonight, the game alas was called off so we opted for Atherton which was also seen to be postponed.  Irlam was the next option and STP Stu was informed of the decision.  Alas this keen Non-League 'erbert was already on the train to New Mills but quick texts were sent and a pick-up arranged.  So with the daughter picked up from work, Stu picked up from a nearby train station, the young offspring dropped at home we made the journey to Silver Street and still arrived in good time to natter to the local faces, have a brew and scoff some chips.  The general feeling tonight was of a confident home win, all and sundry reckoned Irlam would take the 3 points and keep their season rolling the right way - as it proved, this Non-League lark is anything but predictable.  Marvellous ain't it!

At 7.45pm the game got underway and it was the guests who set the early tempo with some swift passing and much alert movement.  Corners came at each end of the park, one was too short, one too long, but the game continued in great haste with many galloping shanks on show.  A short delay saw Irlam forced to make an early substitution and when the restart came Winsford pounced with No 11 (Jesse Dowling) out wide, posting in a flashing cross that No 10 (Charlie Weir) struck first time, albeit straight into the keeper's carcass.  The guests continued to work up a good sweat, they came again, another perilous cross came and Irlam were mighty lucky to survive.  Soon after Irlam found themselves winning a corner which was hoofed into the box and found the bonse of N0 5 (Ryan Ledson) at the back post.   The outcome - the nutted effort went right into the keeper's hands.

As the game progressed the guests were having the best of it and forced the issue further when No 3 (Dean Clarke) went on a rhino-like charge and had a dig.  The ball was deflected and went loose but the excitement was soon quelled by a waving flag on the far side of the pitch.  Irlam were rattled and out of sync.  They were caught dawdling in defence next, a robbery took place, No 9 (Sam Madeley) released but could only boom the ball over the crossbar.

Eventually (and not before time), the hosts caught up with the momentum, started winning more of the ball and making the odd sortie forth.  A ball entered their opponents box, No 11 (Marijn Smith) popped up and poked homeward, alas the ball rolled toward goal with about as much impetus as a 2-legged Tortoise walking through a shit.

The back end of the half came. Winsford had a second wind and found themselves indulging in a swift multi-pronged attack, akin to a full on Dr Octopus onslaught in fact - tentacle-tastic.  The invasion was swift, a pass accurate and a cross equally so.  The result was that Madeley appeared and swept home the first goal of the night - it had been coming and Winsford were fully deserved of it.  The whistle came seconds later - on the evidence so far, there would be no change to proceedings in the second half.

We stayed put for the break, we all agreed the hosts were way off form and Winsford were looking good value for a win.  This was a match-up best likened to when Spiderman took on The Green Goblin and the latter criminalised 'erbert got his pumpkin bombs in a muddle and ended up damaging his emerald dongler with a misplaced razorbat - there was only going to be one winner.

The second period began, the night was still clement although a hovering helicopter fractured the sky silence and had me wondering if Nick Fury was sat in the cockpit of the flying contraption, on the look-out for any wannabe baddies up to no good and looking to begin world domination starting from Irlam and working out (note to self - the Mighty World of Marvel isn't real, keep seeing the psychiatrist).  Winsford were still as sharp as the claws of Wolverine, Irlam still huffing and puffing like a chain-smoking Blob.   The home lads did win a corner, the delivery was crap, it kinda summed things up so far.

Time advanced, so did Winsford with a shot coming that forced the keeper to make a tidy save.  The ball was loose, confusion took charge and suddenly the next thing we all knew was that the ball was bumbled home.  It had been deemed an own goal, the shit had been flung, hit the fan and the home team were now covered in it.

Now Irlam needed to react, they needed to gain a foothold and work like Trojans.  Pressure came, 2 Winsford players ended up in the book but the back line would not be penetrated (fair do's I reckon, playing football with a sore arse can be problematic).  The leading pack absorbed like the stomach muscles of The Incredible Hulk when doing a bit of Medicine Ball training and offered no real weak spots.  An Irlam free-kick forced the keeper to punch, a United break came but was marred by a clumsy tackle - things were now becoming a trifle frayed.

As things were deemed hopeless for the resident ranks they sprung as surprise and prowled with purpose.  No 7 (Max Bardsley-Rowe) was out wide, chased the ball down, beat his marker and put in a fine cross.  Smith was the recipient and was there to fire into the net but could only rattle the horizontal.  No 8 (Oscar Campbell) was on the follow-up, looked to bulge meshing and again trembled the bar - it was just one of those nights.

More yellow cards came, this time for the hosts. Winsford pushed on with Madeley sending a couple of headers wide and No 12 (Robert Hopley) denied at the last by a scampering keeper.  As the clock ran down there was little else to report, this was a bad night's work for the hosts but by heck Winsford had deserved this one.  At the end of proceedings I opted to give the Man of the Match to Winsford United's No 5 (Steven Jenyons) who was a rock in the rear, led with authority and made sure the back line stayed composed and offered the opposing force little in the way of opportunity.  The job was indeed a good un'.

Homeward, tired and bewildered by what that footy lark throws up - one day I may fathom out what makes it so unpredictable, in the meantime I am just going to enjoy it.

FINAL THOUGHT - Irlam were not at the races tonight, in fact the nags had galloped along and entered the final furlong whilst our team were stuck in the bar still sticking pins in the paper and hoping to get a result.  This could be a rude and welcome wake-up call for a team with much ambition and with an eye on a lofty finish or, it could be a portent of a tough season ahead - let's hope not.  Some sharpness is needed up front, the team need to be on it for the full 90 minutes, let us see how they bounce back from this.   Winsford came with a plan tonight, pounced from the off and never let up.  Once their opponents were unbalanced they made sure the toppling continued and got the final win.  They worked hard, earned things with great endeavour and showed a unity and commitment that will serve them well over the coming season.  Any team that gets 3 points at Silver Street has done well, next though, I hope to see Winsford at home and see how they perform on their own turf - I pity any team that pays them a visit and thinks they are in for an easy time of it - they could very well return home with rather heavily spanked arses.

2 GAMES IN, STILL NO WIN

12th October 2020 - Stockport Town 1 v 1 Abbey Hulton United - Today I had been stuck in.  A morning of microscopy updated yesterday's fungal list to 87 species which wasn't too bad considering many common growths were missing.  During the close-up encounters with the spore-producing specimens I was interrupted by a phone call from Jiminy Cricket who threatened to sue me if I carried on revealing snippets about Pinocchio's dabblings with a Yorkshire stripper (see recent report from Wythenshawe Amateurs).  I told the little brolly lugging blighter to go boil an egg (as well as his wife's ovipositor) and stated that the truth needs to be exposed.  You see the perverted puppet with the pecker of wood went on a stag do in Hartlepool and ended up in a liaison with a disrobing lady from the Crippled Cretin's Drinking Mans Club.  Madame Vulvaowskyzi from, aptly enough, Krakow (think about it) was a willing partner to the mauling marionette but, during some fumbling tomfoolery, fell victim to splinterisation from a rather battered and rather fungally infected prodder.  A court case followed, the righteous Judge Giblets sentenced the timber-todged deviant with crimes against decency and told him to get his nob sanded and varnished.  The case was filed under the 'Pole to Pole' incident and I suppose is now best left forgotten - so there ya go and up yours Jiminy!

The rest of the day I rattled away at various chores, had a read of 'Dr Who and the Time Warrior', watched some shite TV and had a couple of Hot Pots.  I am back in work tomorrow, one needs to live like a king when one can.

I was dropped off at the ground a good hour before kick off, met up with STP Stu and after noting the hole-in-the-wall was closed for the night we picked our viewing points.  On paper this looked destined to be a home win, Stu opted for 3 - 1 to the hosts, I went for 4 - 2 but, in truth, I was happy for the best team to win and the game to be a belter.  We were also joined by good folk Sandra and Gareth Evans - they also went for a home win, it seemed the hosts were well and truly jinxed tonight.

On artificial ground the inflated orb was hoofed, the first pack of players to advance with purpose was The Town who were playing some slick football and passing with great pace.  A long ball came which No 10 (Tyler Ferguson) took down with eye-catching ease.  The touch that followed was precise, No 9 (Aaron Knight) gathered and sent forth a shot which the keeper gathered at the second attempt.  From here the hosts were dictators of the tempo and looking the ones to most likely break the deadlock.  No sooner had these thoughts transferred themselves from cranial gunk to well-scribbled paper than Knight and Ferguson were linking up again, pushing the ball out wide whereupon No 2 (Chiek Thiam) collected, cut in and walloped home like a well-season marksman - what a lovely opening strike and a great set-up for the game ahead.

Abbey Hulton now needed to get a grip and get a grip mighty soon.  An advance came, the outcome was only a corner after a trigger had not been pulled at the right time.  The ball from the angle entered the box and went in, out, in, out before No 9 (Nathan Mellor) tried to shake things all about with a hopeful attempt on goal.  The shot from the edge of the box was wild, the only thing troubled by the booming ball was a passing Night Owl and not the man between the sticks.  Shabby!

The game became a keenly fought contest. The Town's workrate off-the-ball was tremendous, the Hulton rear guard concentration equally so.  Despite the host's holding the main cards they were kept at bay and only the industrious No 11 (Max Dickov) managed to squeak in a shot after a quality move but the effort just had a tad too much elevation.  Soon after the same player sped forth, put in a low sizzling cross that saw all hitmen arrive just a little to late on the scene.  Seconds later another spicy cross followed, the ball just fell on the wrong side of Knight's feet with no definite contact made.  

The game look settled at 1 - 0 when the Abbey pack summoned an onslaught with the apical end seeing a cross come and No 7 (Jordan Hall) arrive at the back post and fail to connect with the ball - by crikey that should have been the equaliser.  Immediately we went down the opposite end, No 7 (Lee Grimshaw) looked to have a golden opportunity to provide the ultimate counterpunch but was denied by a quality save.  The ball went loose, Dickov had a first time punt  - wide of the mark was the outcome.

Just prior to the half-time pea-tremble the home team had one more attack.  Some quite delectable play saw Grimshaw denied at the last once more and a corner soon after produce sour bugger all.  The break came, this was still anyone's game - Stockport Town had been in command but with only 1 goal to the credit the job was far from done.

The half-time break saw us stay put, the hole in the wall was, for some strange reason, not open tonight so no brews or choccy for we onlookers.  An odd one this seeing that COVID rules were in place and opening the hatch would seem to be an ideal opportunity to keep people away from one another and out in the fresh air.  Hey ho, the break flew by, we nattered and watched a nearby 5-a-side game unfold with sweating 50+ players having a go and enjoying themselves.  I was quite alarmed though when one greying gent nut-megged the keeper and celebrated by ripping off his Tena Pants and waving them above his head.  Talk about a 'golden shower'!

Half two, a good battling period welcomed all, Hulton were now of renewed belief and endeavour and were refusing to allow their opponents to carry on where they left off.  The next goal grew in value as the minutes ticked on and we entered the meat of the game.  The Town bustled about but only had a weak penalty shout and, in truth, were kept in check by the hard-working visitors.

The guests did enough to eventually earn a free-kick after a quite dazzling, steam driven run by the perspiring No 3 (Sam Wytcherley).   No 4 (Jordan Benton) took the helm, the ball was deflected over and the corner easily dealt with - the initial effort I felt, deserved more.  

Substitutions came each way as both teams looked to effect the stagnating dynamics.  No 11 (Kristian Parsons) for Abbey Hulton had the next pop at the perilous zone, the ball refused to go anywhere other than at the keeper's midriff.  Into the last 15 we hurtled with an absorbing match-up unfolding before our eyes.  No 14 (Jardel Depeiaza) and Dickov linked up for The Town with the latter player releasing a shot and getting clattered in the process.  No booking came and the shot was neatly saved - were we destined to stay as we were?

I felt as though there was a twist still to come and when I saw Hulton advance I wondered if this was the moment.  Wytcherley once again ruptured a nut in getting forward, the ball entered the box, went out and was duly re-delivered.   The hosts were not clearing with any authority and suddenly No 5 (Nathan Grice) fed on the scraps and bagged the fully deserved equaliser.  There were now only 7 minutes left on the clock.

During the closing stages there only looked like one side were going to grab the win.  Abbey Hulton were looking to provide the ultimate smash and grab finale but Stockport Town hung on and the spoils were eventually shared.  This had been a decent game, there were many good sweat-streaming stints but for me No 10 (Jamie Turner) of Abbey Hulton was a source of inspiration who battled like a bulldog but all the while played the game fairly and squarely and made sure his input was 100%.  His hustle and bustle upset the stride of the opponents, the general awareness was spot on and such midfield efforts as this will contribute to many more points earned throughout the campaign.

We watchers were pleased with the night's hoofings, we plan to return next Monday, in the meantime - well who knows?

FINAL THOUGHT - Abbey Hulton exhibited enough quality and effort tonight to prove that they will do fine this season in a league laden with tough games.  The exceptional effort and belief and the willingness to keep on working when under the cosh earned them a fine point and, with a little touch of luck, they could have maybe nabbed all three.  They have a good core of players here, the key is to keep them committed and loyal to the cause and hopefully good things will eventually happen.  Note had been made to see this lot again and we must get back down their place real soon - fingers crossed.  Stockport Town have flair, pace, great ability and huge potential but, if you don't put the ball in the onion bag when the opportunity presents itself then the tears will flow for all the wrong reasons.  Plans are big at this place, promotion talk is in the air but it won't happen unless a certain ruthless streak is instilled.   Despite this though they do play some sexy football, so sexy in fact one fan was noted to have a rather unseemly bulge down below that was either a prong of footballing love or a stolen Toblerone from the local papershop - there are some right perverts in Stockport.  Depsite this distraction I was not shaken from my belief that Stockport Town will be involved in many a good game this year and along the way will thump one or two teams who take them too lightly.  Cammell Laird are next to visit Lambeth Grove - they'd better be on it or else.

TOWN DROWN THE SALMONERS

10th October 2020 - AFC Darwen 0 v 2 Runcorn Town - The weeks are flying by, there be madness in the air and wide eyed mania is seeing many heads crack under this social pressure.  Remember though, there are a bunch of keys dangling from the waist of Good Man Hope, keys that can open the doorway to salvation and many successful surprises.  One key leads to the realm of creation where one can switch off by writing, drawing, making noise or perhaps whiling away the hours with sculpture, ooh yeah making some plasticine worms or Play-Doh peckers.  Another key leads to the heady realms of Wank-O-Topia where one can bathe in the perversity of the flesh and tug away the time.  This latter option can lead to more mental stress though especially if the globes have not undergone a lengthy undulating training spell - boom, bounce, boom.  One certain key however, opens a doorway to a world of hoofing, doofing and general sporty brilliance and this is the world of Non-League - the one we shall be concerned with here.  Be careful though when opening the wooden gateway that you haven't made a mistake and ended up in the world of Premiership Football - now that would be truly horrible, especially if Tony 'the Rubba' Gubba is in-situ - the nasty git.  Today I had used my own personal lock-turning device and found myself down at the Anchor Ground with my good lady and STP Stu.  It was a FA Vase fixture and looked like a crippler to call.  After purchasing tea and chips seats were taken and a healthy crowd (I hope) turned up.  After some idle chit-chat I produced my ball-point (now, now you degenerate swines) and scribbled the following analytical report.

The opening segment was somewhat quiet, both teams looked to pass and play without any great success.  No 9 (Leon Creech) for the hosts was having a bright start and held much promise but it was his opposite number (Lewis Buckley) who had the first punt, albeit into the wild, grey yonder.  The first chance at goal proper soon came when the resident No 1 (Stefan Holden) indulged in a sketchy clearance and Town's No 10 (Ryan Cox) tried to launch one into the vacant net but missed by mere inches.  Darwen responded with a corner.  The ball was delivered, No 3 (Matt Johnson) found the ball at his tootsies but it came all too quickly and the chance to bury was soon a passing memory.  Another Darwen corner came, another blazed cross was the result and again it was too quick for any potential takers - surely we were getting close to a net bulger!

From here the visitors grew further into the game.  2 solid crosses came in quick succession, the first was touched on and resulted in a fine save, the second was nutted away by an alert defender which led to a Darwen reaction. The hosts passed firmly and truly, they progressed into their opponents box but were denied a shooting opportunity.  Eventually, when the ball was outside the rectangle of peril No 8 (Sam Knowles) let fly but couldn't keep his shot below the horizontal.

The hosts pressed again, No 11 (Jamie Edwards) showed great tenacity in midfield and pilfered the globe. A short surge, a pass and Creech collected, set his sights and propelled a beauty.  The visiting mesh protector (Adam Reid) kept his orbs on the trajectory and produced a top class save.  The corner was wasted, Runcorn were soon galloping with No 3 (Matt Johnson) feeding No 8 (Dale Jennings) whose shot was neatly saved.  The loose ball was bumbled wide - I reckon we were in for one tight encounter.

Time rattled on, No 10 (Ryan Steele) weaved a merry path through several defending bods, akin in fact to a rather aroused bullock amidst a field laden with nob-hungry farmers - it does happen - as the poem goes 'Farmers Giles was full of smiles, whilst his best prize bull, suffered from piles' - suspicious hey!  Eventually Steele ejaculated a shot, the power of the product was middling, the mittman saved with relative comfort.  

From here minor pops at goal came but all with little threat.  Steele for the hosts followed up from a duff free-kick but blazed over and Runcorn had a feeble penalty shout - other than that - there was bugger all to get worked up about (well, unless one ponders the aforementioned farmyard antics).  The half-time whistle eventually blew; this was still on a knife edge.

There was no movement from we three watchers at the break, we sat, waited, contemplated - would the home team press on, would the guests absorb and counter and would Boris Johnson spontaneously combust anytime soon - here's hoping.

The game soon restarted, Town sprung quicker than a bag of spring-loaded love eggs fired up the exposed orifice of a bent-over porker.  A curling shot came at the end of the lightning move, it was not far off the strike zone that was for sure.  Darwen came next, a corner was played to No 7 (Rio Wilson-Heyes) who showed neat feet with a quick turn and shot.  The release though was like the handshake of local thin-man Peter Pipe-Cleaner, and lacked any real power.  Runcorn returned the attack in kind, several passes followed with Buckley providing the crucial 'can-opener'.  A cross was made, a deflection had and there was Cox to nudge the ball home.  This wasn't a classic strike but they all count - now what were Darwen made of?

The hosts were quick to make advances forth, Steele darted and delivered, Creech looked set to bury but No 5 (Marcus James) produced an exceptional defensive tackle.  The visitors grew in confidence, won a free-kick that produced FA and which duly led to a Darwen break that saw Creech finalise with a shambolic shot after being tumbled by Wilson-Heyes.  Steele took the free-kick, the ball had good bend but just flew the wrong side of the vertical - a shame, a goal would have made things very interesting indeed.

Darwen now had a good spell of pressure but Runcorn were as tight as a Nipple Fly with a droplet of freshly lactated milk, they were giving nothing away.  No 6 (Sidi Fofana) was having a good game for the hosts but when in possession, lost the ball, looked to regain, lunged and was issued with a quite outrageous red card.  It was the wrong decision, it was a real blow to the trailing team’s hopes, the referee, I think, had made a real 'bloomer'.

The clock was now against the team behind; the problem was they were just not making enough chances.  From one opportunity the hosts were caught on the hop, Buckley was at the helm, had a quick sprint and was bumbled to the floor without ceremony.  The referee pointed to the spot - no not the one on the players arse, the one that was where the ball could be booted goalward free of charge.  Holsgrove took charge of the situation, rattled the ball home, 0 - 2 - I reckoned that was that!

The rest of the game whizzed by, Darwen offered little at the apical part of matters, Runcorn stood firm, similar in fact to an erection dipped in plaster.  A last gush for Darwen saw Edwards denied at the very last and soon after proceedings were done.  The Town had come and done just what needed to be done, the Man of the Match though goes to AFC Darwen's No 3 (Matt Johnson) who was concrete at the back, snuffed out many potential breaks and surely saved his team from a real embarrassing arse whipping.  I know it wasn't your day chap but your stint was still a good un'.

After the game we headed home although this non-mask wearing bugger had to take a leak in the nearby shrubbery.  Thankfully the Nettles are not at full height so, unlike Darwen, I remained un-stung.

FINAL THOUGHT - Runcorn Town were efficient today and even though they were in a match that was a 50/50 tussle, they still came out on top with the win.  This I feel was down to enduring tenacity, a great rear-guard composure and some ball-busting off the ball chasing.  At times their opponents held good possession and were pretty slick in their passing but the Runcorn lads dashed and darted likes dogs with two dicks, in fact add a few more dicks to that tally and you may envision the effort thrown in - nob-tastic I'd say - is there any higher compliment?  AFC Darwen lacked one thing today and that was the final killer touch.  They moved at times with fluent grace and high precision but when it was time to strike they were like fangless Cobras trying to penetrate rather toughened buttocks - there was no chance of making any impression.  They may be downhearted with the end result but there were many positives to take from the game and on those they must concentrate.  The passing at times was liquid, several players had a great game and I felt, on balance, they should at least have earned a penalty shoot-out.  Alas tis all about finding the net and if you fail to bulge the meshing, then you fail to win the end prize, in this case, a tie in the next round.  

We shall certainly return to this ground. I think the place deserves at least one wanker at the anchor - let's do it again, sooner rather than later.

ANOTHER LOCKDOWN

6th October 2020 - Wythenshawe Amateurs 1 v 1 Cheadle Heath Nomads -The most local team to me are the Cheadle Heath Nomads, a few miles down the road are the Wythenshawe Amateurs - some would say I could support either, thank goodness I am the eternal neutral.  For the game tonight I envisioned one team dangling their dongler of promise in the hope of impregnating some away meshing whilst the other side were looking to shrivel their opponents snorkel and give birth to a few onion bag ripples and collecting 3 all important points.  Some would just say both teams were looking for a win, each to their own but give me a genital-based comparison any day of the week.

A swift tea prior to the match was had due to the home timetable going 'knockers up' and consisted of 3 pieces of buttered bread and a lemon cake.  I was dropped off at the game by my good lady, was way too early and so had a pootle for some fungi.  I found a few species and much rubbish dropped by weak minded people who obviously are suffering from a deep-rooted misery and a lack of brain power - tis a pity but there ya go, so much for evolution.

I eventually arrived at the ground, met up with STP Stu where we negotiated a crystal-maze-esque Covid circuit to get a brew and burger (cheers Stu), met up with the amiable Mark Bennett and picked our viewing points.  A few familiar Nomadic faces were nattered with, ex-boss Andy Gray was looking chilled and happy, no doubt chipper after the recent court case had cleared him of trying to enlarge his player's testicles by the use of hormonal injections.  This was a fair decision but the fact that he had tried to change the team's name to Cheadle Heath Gonads was just plain silly.

So, predictions were given by several folk, the sway was towards the hosts, I was indeed thinking along similar lines, this is what went on and how many were once again, chewing the chips of humbleness.

The opening period set a rapid tempo, a tempo that was to continue for the full 90 minutes and which had me wondering if Mr Gray had been at it again with more strange injections.  Despite much lung-busting urgency the only crack at goal came via a free-kick from the guest No 6 (Ashley Crank) which turned out to be poetically 'wank' (Pam Ayres eat yer heart out).  The game was certainly hectic but from the midfield porridge came little in the way of any defining chance.  No 7 (Dean McGregor) had a low pop for The Nomads which the keeper held at the second attempt but other than that my ballpoint had little chance to ejaculate forth any inky descriptions.

As time advanced the Wythy lot settled themselves and began to probe a little deeper into their opponents territory.  From distance No 9 (Craig Billington) chanced his shank and in truth was unlucky to see the ball skid just wide of the wooden upright.  Talking of wooden uprights, did I ever relate the tale about Pinocchio and that stripper from Hartlepool, keep reading these reports, it will happen.

The gruelling contest continued, again the hosts came on with No 2 (Damian Skolorzynski) weaving a wicked path, beating several players and dinking in a quite tempting cross.  The ball bounced once, begged for attention but was left untouched and duly rolled to safety - it was a golden opportunity methinks.  From a corner soon after the delivery was dealt with but immediately reposted with No 5 (Thomas Horner) rising and having a free nut at goal - how he missed is anyone's guess!

After more Wythy pressing the travelling pack broke in rapier style with a cross eventually coming and No 9 (Richard Tindall) there to bury.  Again the globe failed to bulge meshing and the stalemate persisted.  At this point I was reminded by Mr Bennett that he had seen 177 matches on the bounce without a 0 - 0 draw - enter the nasty bastard known as Mr Law-of-Averages'.

The half seemed to be done and dusted and not willing to drop a sprog of success until the guest No 3 (Jack McConnell) galloped like a good un, made the end zone, beat his mark, entered the box and was vulgarly tumbled.  A penalty was given which Tindall hammered home with resolute authority - this was just what the game needed.  The hosts had one last attack before the break but it was snuffed out at the last by a superb tackle by Crank who seemed to have put the early free-kick shocker well and truly into the bottom drawer labelled 'forgotten'.

Peep, peep - the whistle blew and rather than queue for a brew we found other things to do - namely cough up the cud and chew.  Crotchless knitted underpants, the Victor Kiam fuzz-away and Bird's Angel Delight were all discussed as well as other trivial matters like the outcome of the game.  The teams eventually took to the moist baize, Wythenshawe were out like eager beavers, would the timber of the Nomads hold, that was the all important question.

As the home lads darted their accuracy of passing let them down and this was due, in great part, to the industry and passion of the Nomad's off-the-ball intensity.  Eventually it was the visiting team who advanced, Tindall was denied off the line, the ball was floated back into the net but joy quickly dissolved into disappointment as an infringement was spied.  The Amateurs won a corner next, it didn't even beat the first man!  Another corner followed, it was noted as 'garbage' and the game pressed on.

Still the Nomadic work-rate was high which gave no time for the WA pack to dwell and create whilst in possession.  Another deadlock took hold, the clock progressed and all the while the leading unit looked to be seeing this one out.  Suddenly a free-kick was awarded to the hosts and when the delivery came and beat all ascending heads it looked as though the danger had passed.  Not so, as the ball came back in from the back post and No 8 (Rory Fallon) somehow bundled the ball home - what an unexpected occurrence.  The Nomads looked miffed, soon after the Heavens opened and the guest ranks were soaked and suffering too - tis amazing how things can quickly turn to shit.

Momentum now swung with some gripping end to end action that never brought the sought after glory.  Another Wythenshawe corner failed to beat the man at the neat post (work to be done methinks) and as the game progressed into the final gasps it looked as though the Cheadle Chaps wanted this more and seemed the most likeliest team to snatch the winner.  Alas the closest they came was when McConnell broke free on the flank, cut in and sent a shot cum cross right across the goal mouth.  The chance was there for a poacher but it was another chance lost.   Soon after Billington sent a tame shot at goal the other way and then we were done.

Farewells were given to the company tonight, myself and Stu ambled off and considered the evening's events, we both felt that Cheadle Heath Nomads had been diddled but as some recompense the Man of the Match goes to their No 3 (Jack McConnell) for a solid stint, some great attacking prowess and a good reading of many a situation.  Contributions like this did indeed deserve the end 3 point win - hey, ho, maybe next time.

FINAL THOUGHT - Amid Covid madness that is affecting many brains another football match was squeezed in and enjoyed.  I could go on here and state that if we don't look after the planet it is all a temporary reprieve anyway and things will stop for good mighty soon - but is anyone really listening!  Back to the game, Wythenshawe Amateurs were kept on the back foot tonight and forced to rush what they did due to the sheer incessant animation of the hard-working Nomads pack.  If the hosts want to make an indentation into the league table they need to get up to speed mighty quick and make sure they don't get put on a rack.  Cheadle Heath Nomads have had a change of personnel but the season is still destined to be a tough one (if indeed it runs its full length).  There are many teams with dosh, many teams ready to make a push and many teams who will battle equally hard.  Having said this, the attitude and the sweat poured was admirable tonight and if things continue as such, they should hold their own on many occasions.  I will see them quite a few times this season, in between pottering here and there, keep watching these reports - I will be scribbling about a few successes too and I will be clearing up the tale of the wooden upright - ooh me ebony member.