PADDY POWER

17th December 2021 - Irlam FC 0 v 1 Padiham FC - Due to an incessant spillage of soul destroying shittery, unforeseen circumstances and having a busy personal life, my good lady and I have been rather neglectful in our attendances at the fine old ground of Irlam FC - a club run by fine welcoming folk, a ground it is always a pleasure to visit and where, more often than not, some good footballing action is witnessed.  After both putting in our usual stints at work and sorting out the various necessities of daily living we headed out to Silver Street with a chill pervading the night air and the roads not as busy as usual due to a certain virus-induced panic - beware, beware - 'tis Giant Ants and Invaders from Mars next folks, this is 21st Century suffering, most of which is self-inflicted - what a ruddy mess.  Anyway, Non-League Football is pure escapism and escape we shall with 90 minutes of DIY hoofing.  After a catch up with a few heart-warming faces, a tray of gut filling chips and a cup of thermally aiding cha this my dear readers, is what went on.

The globe of inflated air was first given a kick up the valves on the stroke of 7.45pm with both colour-clad units chasing the darn thing this way and that.  The first squadron to garner any form of success from the rolling reprobate were the visitors with a free-kick eventually earned after being on the wrong end on a clumsy tackle. The globe was posted, a nut rose from the mist and helped it on, No 4 (Tom Walker) keenly swung a shank but in his zeal put the ball way over the horizontal.  Irlam responded to this minor morsel of panic by retaining possession and passing with something close to purpose. Two corners were the meagre results, the first being utterly wasted, the second leading to a shot by No 2 (Morgan Kinsella) that was efficiently blocked.

As the mist settled a shot came from a Padiham player who went unidentified (visibility was rather troublesome at this juncture).  The effort wasn't far off and led to an immediate counter that saw the blue No 10 (John Main) gallop, place a pass to his colleague who rounded the keeper but, from a sharpened angle, could only fire and see the No 1 (Matthew Hamnett) recovered and there to push the ball behind for an angled kick.  The corner produced bugger all before we entered a period of sustained midfield battling.  A penalty shout from the Irlam pack was ignored and a few surges by the guests led to aggravating zilch but the first goal didn't seem to be that far away. As Padiham started to just gain the greater hold on matters an advancement came and a cross into the box gave rise to some semi-concerns.  An Irlam defender nutted away, the ball fell at the tootsies of Paddy's No 9 (Joel Brownhill) who wasted no time in firing home - 0 - 1 it was, one could almost feel a shock was on the cards.

Padiham now exuded greater belief and began to take charge of matters.  Their No 7 (Marcus Perry), an ex-Silver Street boy, went on a dazzling surge and needed tumbling at the last to avoid further penetration. Soon after the same player was the marauder once more as his blazing feet carried him forth, this time with a shot coming but lacking direction and so allowing the keeper to duly save.  No 8 (David Sherlock) had a follow-up but once again the mitter was there to defy a molestation of his onion bag (and who can blame him, it can be a painful experience).

To the half time break it was seen that Irlam were lacking in creativity and just out of sync.  A shot did come from range via No 7 (Millen Brown) with the ball nudged on by No 9 (Ethan Beckford) that nearly resulted in a lucky leveller - alas it was not to be and half-time it was.

For the break my good lady called her mum to get her shopping list for the morrow (she is 92 and someone has to keep up her weekly supplies of rum, fags, caviar and ecstasy tablets) whilst I chatted to the ever amiable Cheadle Heath Nomads manager Jake Davies.  For all trivia fans I can now add that Jake's attempt at keeping living terrapins in his jacksie for a 6 month period ended in failure after one of the said shelled bastards choked on a chip-laden turd - Jake though showed true grit and said another attempt is on the cards - ooh me carapace.

And back to the game... 

...Padiham flew from the traps and displayed an attitude that reeked of 'being up for it'.  Irlam strove to get back into the contest but for all their territorial profit Padiham stood firm and remained the impenetrable force.  Padiham seemed happy to play at their own pace and soak up matters before striving to pounce.  It was a good tactic against a team who were too predictable and lacking in ideas.  The Silver Street army ploughed on with earnest endeavour but each and every time promise rose, it was sent packing by some stout defensive work.  Padiham's Brownhill came close with a punt that just wouldn't stay on target but the game fell into the realms of all bluster with no boom.  

The last 15 came leaving me with little to scribble.  This was a 45 minute session for the midfield connoisseur with some serious mid-pitch intensity had.  Only a couple of half chances came before the final whistle peeped. Irlam had a free-kick that was delivered in a tempting way so as to force several incoming bods to lunge with desperation - the killer touch however was not made.  A substitute for Padiham (darn the mist) had the last dig of the game but couldn't negotiate the keeper and that, as it transpired, was that.  For Man of the Match I opted for Padiham's No 4 (Tom Walker) who stuck to his guns, looked utterly buggered at some stages yet kept on battling and remained solid and who was, a cornerstone to the away teams 3 point win.

Farewells were had and a short chat was enjoyed with that fine friendly Irlam chap Matty Kay - always a joy.  We plan to be back on the touchline next Tuesday - here's to better things for the Blues.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Padiham were desperate for points and tonight this was highly evident as well as a great disciplined and battling effort from all areas that made life mighty difficult for the home squad.  Given the display witnessed I can only envisage the guests surviving the drop and building from here to move up the table and put the wind up a few higher placed teams.   Here's hoping!  Irlam, as proven by the recent results, are on a rough roll but, over the years I have learned to never underestimate this lot and I am sure things will be rectified mighty soon.  The team are just lacking one or two ingredients, the most obvious one being the options available when in an advanced position.  Work off the ball and an injection of pace may help this, it seems only minor tweaks are needed to get things back on track. Again, my hopes are sincere.

So the season rolls on and here we have two teams hoping to gain some semblance of consistency - as said, I shall return to Silver Street next week and as a friend who lives near Padiham has requested a visit I shall be up their end mighty soon - get the chip pan on peeps.

A final mention must go to the two young chaps who were working the food hatch tonight - it is good to see young 'erberts doing their bit and being polite and welcoming in the process - ruddy excellent methinks.

NOMADS NOBBED

11th December 2021 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 1 v 4 Wythenshawe Amateurs - Football attendance as been a struggle of late due to fungal duties, a trip to Scotland and the weather.  Thankfully I am getting back in the groove and ready to roll out a few observations on several games here and there.  Today I rose with a prickly pecker as I suspect there may be a kidney stone on the brink of hitting the porcelain.  I have passed many of these gits and cracked many a karsi, they are pain-inducing little bastards that set prostatitis off and make one's John Thomas feel rather sorry for itself.  The morn was spent sorting wildlife pictures, doing the dishes and contemplating the latest book I am reading regarding Oscar Wilde - something else that isn't good for one's lower parts I can tell ya.  Eventually the posterior was put into gear and some semblance of movement was had - it was all a bit sketchy with the back twanging like an elastic twat - ooh crumbs.

Stretching and doofing done my good lady dropped me at the ground before pootling off to her mum's. I was soon in position alongside my good mate STP Stu, with a brew in the gut helping keep afloat a couple of sausage rolls that certainly kept any chill at bay.  The game began in vile murk and finished in the same way - in between one team shone, the other stuttered and all and sundry got a soaking.

The start was brisk with the pace a little too much for the Nomadic ranks who seemed to be struggling to get up to speed.  Wythenshawe settled in, a ball soon came that found No 9 (Saul Henderson).  The lofty player gathered and placed a pinpoint pass to No 11 (William Shawcross) who took his time, picked a spot and placed the ball in the awaiting net.  No sooner had the home ranks recovered than the Whammies were at it again, this time with Henderson the apical component but firing straight at the mitter.

The hosts were just out of sync, they failed to get much further than the middle of the park which contributed to a short period of midfield mither.  With just over 10 minutes on the clock a quick Wythy thru-ball saw Henderson collect in way too much space.  The player in possession kept his head and fired home with composure to double the lead - now, then, now then, there was a shock on the cards and a real nasty shock at that.

It seemed as though the home team were just lacking any initial zip and creativity when a ball opened up the Wythenshawe defence, a shot came and was saved by the guest keeper with the follow-up slotted home by the awaiting No 7 (Charlie Mulgrew).  Now if ever a moment was destined to turn the tide this was it.  Alas the comeback was not to be as the away side pushed on, won a couple of corners and then put together a simply divine move of liquid fluidity with several short passes disembowelling the Nomadic rear and No 7 (Kieran Curtis) slipping in to deliver the final coup de grace - a work of artistry worthy of the end result.

From here to the break another goal was lacking although Curtis for Wythy went on a strong surge but just overcooked his final touch and then Mulgrew for Cheadle burst along the flanks and delivered a choice ball that was left unmolested at the most crucial moment. Cheadle's No 10 (Kyle Foley) should have cut the deficit when he was threaded through and had only the keeper to beat but fired right at the awaiting mesh protector and then No 4 (Charles Duke) at the other end had an honest punt that just wouldn't drop below the horizontal.  Henderson had one more shot before the break, with the home No 1 (Mason Davies) doing well to get down quick and turn the ball behind for a corner which bore no fruit.

We stayed put for the break, a soaking for a cup of cha was not an option so we whiled away the time chatting bollocks and Mark Torbitts (Cheadle Photographer and all round doofer) hashish addiction and astounding knowledge of 1970's top shelf porn.  He has applied to go on Mastermind answering question on the 1974 Golden Shower Rodox Special featuring Bladder O' Rourke and Splasher Gnasher Glenda - I think he may do rather well.

The start to the second period was scrapyard battling with little in the way of adhesion on show.  A Wythy corner came and No 5 (Soloman Wickstead) rose at the back post and buried with his bonce - the goal was disallowed though as the player was overdoing his Chris Bonnington impression and climbing with unruly abandon.  The travelling team would not be denied though and soon after a shot was blazed from a congested pack, the keeper saved but the loose ball was stroked home by Shawcross and it looked as though the 3 point end prize was assured.

A long battle ahead was now facing the trailing unit but no matter how hard they tried they failed to ruffle a WA side that was very much in control and highly disciplined at the back. The closest we came to another goal was when Henderson for the guests surged and let fly, forcing the keeper to save and concede a corner.  The kick from the angle came, this time the gloved one missed it and the ball needed a last minute hoofing off the line.  The Nomads forced a few corners the other way but the deliveries were nothing short of abysmal.  Like the weather, the game collapsed into a deflating mess and after a few semi-assaults and some wayward passing matters were duly called to a halt.  A Man of the Match was chosen and No 6 (Arthur Okonkwo) was the choice due to a highly regimented, steady and reliable session at the back and making sure, for the hosts, there was little in the way of space and time.

Under heavy skies we all pootled home, anyone claiming to have predicted this scoreline was certainly in league with the devil, they won't be laughing when their balls turn black.

FINAL THOUGHT - I name this one an upset, perhaps not a world changing event but still a bit of a shocker for those who have seen the Nomads have a good season so far.  Wythenshawe Amateurs came and put in the best performance I have seen from them this year and despite reservations about them lasting the course, I was put in my place and and am happy to stand corrected.  From defence, through the middle ranks to the attackers this was a well worked stint laden with good effort and effective off the ball labour.  If they carry on putting in work-rates like this then the play-offs will be a certainty.  The Nomads, coming into this game, promised so much more but with a couple of players missing, the crappy conditions and a tough 'up for it team' to beat, today was just never going to be.  I expected more and despite this turning over I don't think the squad should be too unhappy with their campaign so far.  Now however is the time to dig into the trenches, call upon great resolve and get a good run going up to and after the Turkey-stuffing period.  Get the wishbones ready, think about what you want and tug like buggery.  Take note - when I say 'tug like buggery' I am sure the aforementioned Mr Torbitt will presume I mean something sexual - this is not my intention however, if the need is great, then why not!

THE VOYAGE OF THE VASE

20th November 2021 - AFC Liverpool 2 v 0 Redcar Town - The 2nd round of the FA Vase and so far we have watched the home team win two games to progress to this stage.  I was hoping further advancements could be made with another home tie awaiting our attention, but as ever, I remain neutral and hope the best team wins in a fair and good footballing manner.  The morn was spent leading the last fungus walk of the season, 60 species, a good turn-out and 7 Nettle Books sold - oh aye.  The trip down to the Marine ground was easy and after arriving we had time to purchase a few pasties and cakes from a local bakers who really knew how to sell their wares (so much for the Jane Fonda diet).  Throwing my slimming leotard in the nearest bin I filled the belly, entered the ground with my good lady and met up with our friend STP Stu.  Brews were had, the usual viewing points taken and the jaws wagged in time-honoured fashion.

A watertight start was had by both teams with the first noteworthy moment coming when the guests won a free-kick which No 4 (Nic Weathered) delivered with splendid pace and curve.  As the ball entered the panic zone No 6 (Joe Bennett) dashed in and sent a header... wide - in truth, the first goal of the game should have been bagged. The guests continued to work up a good lather and press with unbound passion. The home lads did win a free-kick after No 11 (Kyle Schorah) was clattered but the creativity value was a maximum of bugger all and so Redcar continued where they left off.  A break came, a solid ball found the cranium of Bennett once more, this time contact was minimal and the ball flew way off target.  A corner for the Reds was the response, No 5 (Luke Stephens) put bonce on ball but the effort was weak and without direction.

From here the hosts warmed to the task at hand, a surge came with a blazing wing run culminating in a delivery No 10 (Callum Schorah) gently pushed on, only to watch the ball just miss the inside of the post.  This should have been a moment when the game moved up a notch but fluidity was lost for a goodly while and the referee was called upon to rattle his pea a little too often (the dirty blighter).  During this unappealing period though Redcar did hold some good possession and only lacked a killer touch in the final third.  Eventually, from the growing murk, the AFCL pack came with K. Schorah at the apex and drilling forth a wonderfully struck shot that the Redcar No 1 (Michael Algie) did well to block with one raised hand.  

The time ticked, the home lads advanced, a choice delivery to C. Schorah saw the ball get stuck in the striker's feet and the chance to bury disappearing quicker than George Michael's todge during a public toilet police raid (and that's quick).  K. Schorah had a punt at goal soon after but the projected effort went straight into the keeper's waiting mitts.  Things looked to be going the home teams way and when No 8 (James Howell) had a shot deflected upwards and No 7 (Jesse Dowling) looked certain to open the scoring it was with a 'WTF' gasp that I watched the ball get walloped over the horizontal.

A bit of spiciness entered the game before half-time, a few half-chances bore no fruit and that was that.  We refused to move into the grot for the break and just stood around and nattered.  A bit of scran fell down the grub tunnels and the growing chill was partly fended off - we needed a goal in this one and all were agreed it looked like the home team were going to get it.

The second period began with both teams playing like cagey poker players and giving nothing away.  A Redcar free-kick promised to give rise to the first real action but the delivery was truly awful.  As the two midfield packs battled, the red clad K. Schorah sprang from the melee and sent forth a low cross.  Dowling appeared and gathered, took control, touched and buried - and about time too.

This opening goal was maybe against the grain but AFC Liverpool are a stubborn side and soak up pressure with practiced patience.  The pack with their todgers in front came again soon after with Dowling the apical component and sending a shot that was a hairs breadth wide of the mark.  Once again the home lads came, Dowling was in, Howell was waiting for the ball but when the cross came the keeper was there with a reliable fisting (just like the ones given by Rectal Roger down Lovelob Lane at the back of the local greengrocers - so I hear).

Still the Reds advanced, a dink pass ensued and up stepped Dowling again, this time to rattle home and double his sides lead - a choice moment that had been coming. The weather was now abhorrent, with the skies bleak and the floodlights illuminating the wintry feel.  AFC Liverpool were still rampant, a well whipped corner saw Redcar panic and somehow survive and strive to build something of quality.  Alas the final ball was missing, much to the chagrin of their No 2 (Connor Prest) who hogged the line in free space and got very little in the way of service.  The guests stuttered to the final whistle and, in truth, gave their opponents too much of an easy ride and looked a trifle miffed with themselves come the end.  Man of the Match was pondered, No 6 (Lee McConchie) I thought put in a stint that kept things secure at the back and threatening in midfield.  The performance was controlled and steady and done in an unassuming style - I like that.

Thankfully the rain eased off as we walked back to the car wondering if the next round would produce another home tie - if so, we may just well be in attendance.

FINAL THOUGHT - A clash of two teams was witnessed today in testing conditions with the hosts squeaking through primarily due to a hard work input.  Redcar Town came and should have offered more, it was a frustrating display with space not fully maximised, control of the ball not at its best and options when moving forth either lacking or not truly grasped.  It is a long way to travel and not play to the best of your ability but these things happen and football is just a right old awkward git at times.  AFC Liverpool put in a hard fought stint without doing anything spectacular - winning ugly is an artform, just ask Fuck Face O Flynn after he recently won the Yorkshire Tiddlywanks Championship - it ain't easy being a fiendish looking blighter trying to throw one off the wrist in public whilst pissed as a fart.  What the home team did tonight was not get on each other's cases, play with a head down focus and stick to their strengths - it may get them further than they think. Before finalising this belated report I found out that the winners are at home again in the next round, this time to Pilkington FC - a note has been made in the diary - I just hope it doesn't clash with the next Tiddlywanks Championship - I have a £50 bet on Tug 'O' Tool and would love to witness him lift the sought after Foreskin Trophy - my knackers are crossed.

CONVINCINGLY 'VIC'TORIOUS

6th November 2021 - Northwich Victoria 7 v 1 Ashton Athletic - Up and out and a quick walk around Victoria Park in Latchford and then to the tattooists to get the belfry inked.  90 minutes later I had 'Fungalised' daubed along the side of the nut and me and my missus were sat in a lovely local cafe having a warm drink and some toasted treats. The rain began to fall and a last minute change of plan sent us to the ground of Northwich Victoria where we could have a sit down out of the falling moisture.  We were welcomed by several fine local supporters and were well and truly settled in by the time 3.00pm came.  I refuse to reveal our predictions as they weren't even close but, I reckon come full time, very few others were near the mark either.

The game began after a 2 minutes silence for fallen heroes.  A poppy wreath was laid by a veteran who proudly saluted and marched off - thank you sir.  

The first advances came from a frisky Ashton pack with a long ball nutted wide.  Another shot followed soon after, but was weaker than the wrist of Paul Merson after a heavy session on the one-armed bandits.  Again the guest pack came, No 11 (Joshua Nicholson) was out wide with the home mitter spied off his line  A shot was launched from distance, the ball rose, fell and bulged meshings - what a way to get the scoresheet blemished.

Now, the dozing Vic-Men had to push and push they did only to come up against a rock solid defensive wall.  Ashton progressed, won a corner that the wind helped to waste and then, the home lads broke like a rampant fart from a fat-man's overstuffed anus.  No 10 (Bradley Lynch) went on the chase, the visiting No 1 (James Aspinall), came forth and then pedalled back.  A shot came and was struck with sugar sweet accuracy.  The keeper was beat, the ball kissed the inside of the upright (ooh sexy) and flew into the netting - back to all square we were.

Now the Vics were on it.  A long cross ensued which was nutted down to No 9 (Carl Grimshaw) who used good muscle to hold the ball, turn and propel towards goal.  The keeper sprawled and saved well, with Ashton taking a deep breath and scurrying away.  No 7 (Ethan Brough) was out wide, a low placement pass found No 9 (Gabriel Ellis) who released a punt towards the bottom corner - by crikey lad that were close.

The game continued. Northwich Victoria sprung the traps with No 11 (Matthew Birchall) darting, cutting in and putting in a shot that quivered the timber.  Grimshaw followed up, the mittman saved, Grimshaw regained possession and this time thumped home - Ashton looked mighty stunned to say the least.  Within mere moments the Vics were marauding forth again with No 7 (Ryan Winder) galloping like a man with the shits on his way to a targeted karsi.  The basin of success looked ready to be filled but the possessor of the ball unselfishly laid off and allowed Bradley to make for the third splash of success.  Cracking stuff or should that be, cacking stuff?

A free-kick was awarded next to the rampant home 'erberts.  A good ball was posted with the keeper doing well to tip behind.  The ball was placed at the angle, Lynch gave it a good hoof with plenty of bend, a mystery wind got up at the last and the ball went straight into the onion bag - talk about a bonus.  Two questions immediately arose  - was the ball fitted with a remote control device or was the scorer in league with nefarious dark forces - either way, they all count.

The home lads were now running the show and eager to get a few more goals.  Ashton Athletic were in disarray and looking to stop the leakage - a pair of footballing Tena Pads was the best I could offer. Northwich came on, eyed the jugular with No 3 (Joel Bembo-Leta) setting off on a lusty run.  The dashing player passed to Grimshaw who walloped first time with his unfavoured foot, this time the keeper could take a breather. Seconds later a ball over the top saw Birchall sneak in again, once more the keeper was untroubled as a defensive bod produced a high class tackle to smother the danger.  Within the twitch of a Tadpole's todge Birchall was wriggling away for the second time.  A shot came, the outcome was wide as was another effort soon after with the same player receiving from Winder, but again not zoned in to the vital area.

Onwards and a Vic's corner brought panic in the AA box, survival was had, but only just.  The visitors began to push, but lost possession with No 2 (Roman Allen) collecting and then releasing a sumptuous pass that cut the opposition in half allowing Birchall to collect and bury.  I think we could say that was that.

Before the break more action came in the Ashton box with the keeper tipping the ball up, blocking a shot and then Grimshaw having a dig and winning an angled boot.  The corner came, no joy was had, a repeat kick followed with the globe finding its way onto the line and awaiting a killer touch.  The ball was hoofed away, No 5 (Rudy Misambo) returned with an attempt on goal which was way off the mark - phew - half done, thank buggery for that.

We stayed put for the break, chatted to some fine and welcoming locals and assessed what a quality bout of football we had just seen albeit aided by a travelling pack severely out of sorts.  I suspected the half time talk would include phrases such 'you useless bastard', 'what the fuck was that' and 'get your arses into gear, out there and make sure you don't concede another'.  I trembled at the thought and hoped the guests could come out re-invigorated.

The teams came out!  Guess what?  With minutes another goal was had by the coasting Vics who pressed the opposition and fed Lynch who only had the keeper to beat.  The ball was slotted home, 6 - 1 - this was a game in danger boasting a score-line of capricious leanings.

From here, for much of the second period, Northwich Victoria played it cool, passed with patience and forced their opponents to chase shadows.  The Athletic did have a rare sortie forth with Nicholson weaving in and No 10 (Lewis Boyd) having a pop that the keeper had to push behind for a corner.  The free ball in was shite, it about summed up the team's day.

Ashton, to give them credit, worked away and tried to get a consolation, but The Vics were concrete at the back with Allen and Misambo key components.  The game fell a trifle flat, a few semi-chances came and went, a couple of subs were made and the host No 8 (Luke Sephton) sent in a side-footed bender that just wouldn't stay below the crossbar.  The game coughed and spluttered and was a contrasting image of the opening 45 minutes.  During the final throes the six-goal unit pressed with patience and forced the trailing pack to chase and lunge without much success.  Eventually the substitute No 12 (Chad Whyte) received and walloped home, much to the delight of the supporting ranks.

The last gasps came and went, The Athletic had a final thrust that saw a shot easily saved and that was indeed that.  A convincing home win with the Man of the Match choice going to 4 goal star, Northwich Victoria's No 10 (Bradley Lynch),  A fine work rate, a knowledge of where to find space and of course a quartet of goals - what can one add?

Cold, a trifle tired but pleased with the day thus far, we two peeps pissed off homeward vowing that Wincham Park will be visited several times a season from now on.

FINAL THOUGHT - Ashton Athletic were abysmal today, but rest assured, this won't be the case for the rest of the season.  With a little work on holding the ball, using the full playing area and making sure all areas are disciplined they will hopefully sneak a few points here and there and get themselves moving in the right direction.  Days like this happen, the key is now dusting down as quick as possible, getting the fitness levels up to level 'max' and going forth into the next few matches determined to up the ante - watch this space, I certainly will be.  The Vics have not had things all their own way this year and have been something of a mixed bag, they seem to be getting their act together... at last.  I think they played with good earnest desire today and although being allowed to have most of their own way they remained disciplined and not overly greedy.  From here they now need to build and make sure this is a springboard to ongoing success.  This is a tough old league though so matters won't be easy therefore my final advice is 'strap up yer conkers, pull yer socks up, make sure you have yer winter vests on and go ruddy get em' - we shall sithee mighty soon.

THE DESIRE AND THE FIRE

27th October 2021 - Cheadle Town 2 v 1 Isle of Man - Somehow, I am am managing to juggle many tasks and keep on the right side of sanity in doing so.  My aim in life is to put back, I do this in various ways, by heck it gets one nowhere and fags one out.  The option of being an idle fart and on the take is not what I want - hey ruddy ho.  After a day of work, fungi identification and sorting out an extensive 'To Do' list I wandered down to Park Road in clement climes enjoying the autumnal air.  On arrival the fine guy on the gate greeted me and we had a good natter as usual, about the madness in the world and the current downward spiral.  We are mere minions striving to do and not fall into line for the sake of it, beyond that we have no answers.  Eventually I purchased tea and chips and pootled off to the far side of the ground on my lonesome.  I was grateful when I was joined by two footy friends, namely Gareth and Sandra Evans.  More chatting ensued and some rather pathetic predictions - we didn't hang our heads in shame come the full-time result, we are quite use to being in the wrong.

As the wind blew and the gasbagging continued the teams came out and got matters underway in front of a crowd of 100+ people.  The commencement was fairly balanced with the guests applying a subtle and gradual pressure.  A throw in was had, a cranial touch on and the ball was nudged forth with the home keeper somehow keeping his sheet clean with an on-line block.  From the clearance the ball was nutted back to the halfway line with the travelling No 9 (Furo Davies) collecting, noting the keeper off his line and launching a looping shot that fell just shy of the vertical - now that would have been some strike.

Cheadle eventually got their act together and came on with No 10 (Ryan Usher) providing a quality lay-off for No 4 (Andrew Lunt) to gather, touch on and wallop.  The IOM No 1 (Matthew Quirk) watched the direction of the globe and made a quality save. The follow on corner was easily nutted clear. 

The next action soon ensued and it began with a long goal kick from the home keeper.  No 9 (Patrick Davin) duly went on a chase, displayed good strength to knock the ball on to Usher who wasted no time whatsoever in sending in a low sizzling shot. The outcome, 1 - 0 and the cat was amongst the pigeons, nay the rats were amongst the disposable nappies.

Stunned and reeling the Isle of Man set-up wasted no time in counterpunching.  A throw-in was had, a cross with pace followed and up popped No 7 (Lee Gale) to head home and regain parity. Cheadle Town looked gutted, it was a case of the great footballing mistake, never throw away a lead so quickly and so easily - a lesson to be adhered to or six of the best from the footballing headmaster methinks.

From here the IOM outfit turned a screw with numerous balls peppering the Town zone of peril.  The hosts displayed stout resilience and even had a break of their own ending in a punt that was only millimetres wide of the goal. The visitors also came close when a break culminated in a lob from Davies that needed a goal line clearance and then the same player put his cranium on a choice cross with the net there to be bulged.  The contact was true but the direction of the propelled sphere off-line and over - surely another goal wasn't far away.

With very few minutes of the first half remaining the game became a ramshackle and whistle-infected affair with too many stray balls hindering the flow and the sable clad conductor getting a little too 'peep' happy and blowing his oral device with untamed abandon.  Just prior to the break a 50/50 ball saw two players collide in their earnest eagerness to get matters under control.  An Isle of Man player writhed and earned a free-kick.  The ball was played low, a shot went wide, the half was done and all was fair in this love and war battle.

I stayed put for the break and soaked in the bracing air and nattered about what had been and what shall be.  I have a new tattoo planned, a picture of Albert Tatlock on my right testicle and a picture of Ena Sharples on the other - minimal detail is needed as my aging ball bag can provide the ideal wrinkle effect.  Gareth also revealed he is having a tattoo too - apparently it is a list of Cheadle Heath Nomad players he has seen naked - by all accounts it is a long list - I remain disgusted.  His good lady is doing the ink work using nothing more than a felt-tip and a one-pronged fork - oh the art of DIY hey.

Half two and early action saw Davin for Cheadle have two minor chances that he failed to bury and, in truth, there was bugger all else to report on in a game that had become a midfield mush and lacking spark and spunk.  Eventually a few balls forth held a snippet of promise with one such advance leading to an away player getting tumbled in the box and a tad unlucky not to get a penalty.  Cheadle though were the better side now and were exhibiting a desire greater than that shown when Neville Southall was left alone in a lard factory.  As the tide pressed No 7 (Christian Soda) for The Town erupted and surged.  The end line was reached, a rapier cross was delivered and there to tap home was Usher who gave his side a well deserved lead.

Questions were now to be asked of the travelling team.  Lots of huff, puff and a few things duff followed with real defining chances a very scarce commodity.  Town had a free-kick that No 3 (Jack McConnell) posted.  The ball was flicked on, a moment of excitement seemed imminent but the keeper advanced and held with little fuss.  The opposing force still tried to get back into the mix, a sweet through ball saw Davies gallop and nearly make killer contact but the home stickman came forth and did enough to muffle the potential.  Like a constipated goose trying to give birth to a golden egg, the IOM pack strained mighty hard but produced little except a few moments of anguish.

The sands of soccerised time tumbled away, nothing to force pen to paper arose until the very last when a free-kick for the Isle of Man eventually fell to the feet of No 5 (Samuel Baines).  A low shot was sent towards goal, all players stood still and the bated breath of the visiting fans awaited victorious release - if only the ball had stayed on target!

Game done, Man of the Match for me goes to No 10 (Ryan Usher) of Cheadle Town who worked like a pit-pony on steroids and was never afraid to bust a bollock, get stuck in the mix and perspire both off and on the ball.  Keep it up fella - I am sure further rewards will come thy way.

I buggered off home looking at a swift walk, my good lady was waiting for me despite me advising her to get an early night - she is a gem and always deserves mention. I think she picked me up in case my scrotum became perished and I would have to delay my pending tattoo - then again, perhaps not. 

FINAL THOUGHTS - Despite the Isle of Man picking up their tempo of late tonight they were given a lesson in desire and how to stoke the fires in the belly and use them to good affect.  I am sure that this unit will be in the top six come the season ending whistle but a warning has been re-issued that if they treat their opponents to lightly they may come unstuck - this is a league not to be sniffed at.  Cheadle Town are the seasons creepers - sneaking in on the blind side without being overtly flamboyant and noticeably progressive.  Somehow, they have crawled into a position of promise and along the way have put in some good stints and turned over a few solid teams.  How far can they go this time around is anyone's guess but there is a certain grit and downright stubbornness here not to be underestimated.  A few more wins on the bounce and a couple of teams at the top will certainly be watching their arses - bring it on I say.

THE FINE ART OF BATTLING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RED ROLLOVER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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