END OF SEASON DOUBLE HEADER

27th June 2021 - The final competitive matches of the season and this time the reports are done with a difference.  A general summing up rather than the usual style so as to ease the strain on my DIY backlog and to round things off in a perfunctory, but hopefully accurate manner.

Up at 6.30am, dishes done and the moth trap seen to.  I was blessed with visits from various creatures of the night who were named and shamed as the Brown China Mark, the Spectacle, the Small Magpie and the dinky, but quite delightful Garden Grass Veneer.  There were other specimens in the mix, it is about time these delightful natural gems had a better run.  With all specimens recorded, I fed the birds, got sorted and had a chill with the good lady.  We set off at 9.30 prompt, travelled the concrete artery and arrived at our destination with plenty of time before kick off.  STP Stu turned up after a short wait, we had a natter and had to wait for refreshments due to the cafe being shut. Predictions were made and these are my observations of the games under the spotlight.  

Game one: Mayfair FC 2 v 2 Oyster Martyrs (Match Abandoned during second half).

The initial aspects of this game displayed two equally matched teams playing with an overspill of energy, but lacking any real composure.  A whole heaping of huff and puff without any houses blown down was witnessed, we needed a big bad wolf to take a lungful and let go a real billower.  The scrambling action persisted, the Mayfair No 10 looked a player awash with zeal and a bloke who had a good reading of the game, but Oyster had some good runners in their mix and were always going to keep the opposition honest.

It was Oyster who took the lead with a well worked goal, but matters where soon level when the blue-clad MF men worked a goal due to nothing more than grim determination and high industry.  The goal was sweetly created though with several passes leading to the ball entering the box to be duly tapped home.    This equaliser looked to set the stage for a period of greater balance, but a shabby back pass was intercepted by a keen Oysterman and the ball tidily stroked home.  Before the break we had another net buster, this time a real beauty with the marksman collecting, turning and belting into the top corner - a stunner for sure, it was a shame teamsheets were not available so I could name the bringer of such joy.

The second half was a settled affair and looked to be anyone's until a tackle was taken exception to, a punch was thrown, a player felled and then a 22 man punch up came with kicks, stamps and more fists all adding to an embarrassing mess.  The gent in jet took a look, decided to call a 'fuck it' and the game was rightly abandoned.  This was a real shame and a real shabby way to end what was a very decent game.  From such ghastly negativity though arose some fine positivity as the early abandonment meant we three moochers could nip to a local cafe, grab some refreshments and get back in time for the next game.  

The Scranary was filled with Sunday dinner scoffing buggers all enjoying a mountain of food awash in an ocean of gravy and swilled down with a variety of fluids.  We came a way with tea, I had a bacon toastie, the good lady had a cheese toastie, Stu opted for just the drink, the waistline must be looked after - come this time next year he says those 65 inch waist love-leggings will be donned - sex in yer pants people, you ain't seen nothing yet! 

Back to the ground and a good couple of hundred folk were now in attendance with a brief chat had with the ever amiable Paul Moran, football zealot and keen photographer of the game at level real.  It was good to catch up that was for sure.  

And so to the next game.

Game two: Campfield FC 1 v 1 AFC Bull (Campfield win the league).

This second encounter, looked on paper at least, to be a result very much in favour of a Campfield win, but it became more than apparent during the opening quarter that AFC Bull were a highly regimented team with a defence tighter than the arse cheeks of John Inman before the incident with the water melon.  The teams No 4 looked a particular solid element in a rear guard that never took their eye off the ball.  Campfield looked a hefty unit, but today were hustled and never really settled thus letting much potential go to waste.  AFC Bull took a surprise lead in the first half.  The goal came about due to some never-say-die animation and a desire to get forward.  Despite going one goal down the opposition just failed to create any serious penetration, a bit like when Arthur Mullard sank 25 pints and tried to have a night of passion with a blow-up doll - oh the disappointment of Boozer's Droop.

The second half saw a real stingy affair with chances sparser than the hairs on the scrotum of Telly Savalas (so I hear).  The Bulls were akin to Rear Admiral Goodtime Gary and looked to perform well on the deck, but Campfield now pushed forth with a trifle more focus and just looked to have a chance of grabbing a point here.  The equaliser did come, it was an absolute blinding shot from distance that looped into the net above a pack of players who could only look on and admire.  This looked to be a catalyst to set the game alight - it was not to be the case.  The game plodded on like an amputee walking through a field of dung and the nearest anyone came to getting a goal was when The Bullmen had a corner that was swung in and needed punching away at the last by a keeper who readily explained why he didn't catch the ball by saying 'he shit himself' - well, you can't fault honesty.

The final whistle came, despite the game not being a classic, Campfield celebrated in joyous style, the league was theirs, not bad for a team who had only won one of their first six league games.  We pootled off with the viewing season now full-stopped, we had seen a bit of everything today, the good, the bad, the brilliant and the shambolic - and all due to just getting off our arses, supporting the Non-League cause and being keen.  Here's to next season!

CHUNK DUNKED

20th June 2021 - Home Bargains FC 4 v 3 Pineapple FC - An early start and a walk down the Liverpool Loop Line recording a few wildlife species and stretching the legs.  The short walk resulted in 55 species input onto the National Databases - not bad for a swift hour.  Back to today's footy at Sandfield Park where we met up with STP Stu.  The bar was closed so our positions were chosen with the sun beaming and a few fine gents, who had originally set up the home team, nattered with.  Every time one comes to this neck of the woods one can't help but admire the many amiable folk there are as well as some real Non-League Doofers.  Eventually the Pineapple Manager came over and handed me the teamsheets (cheers mate) and the home lot cobbled together a list for me to do a report - by heck that was hard work.  The game kicked-off at 11.30am on the rather dubious dot and I began to scribble about a game that was a fine example of DIY kicking.

The action was immediate with the Chunky Men up with the lark and having a ruddy good go at matters.  An early corner was won, the delivery was decent, No 7 (Leon Arnasalam) had a pop and a deflection left the keeper rooted to the spot.  Luckily for the man between the timber, the ball went wide and the corner was like the loins of a castrated monk and produced bugger all.  A free-kick soon came the same way, Arnasalam fed No 11 whose punt at the strike zone went stray.  This was still a bold start though.

The Pineapple pack continued to push.  A brace of corners were defended via the smooth cranium of the home No 8 whose name I didn't get although I did learn he had popped round his mum's the night before to have a bath so as to soothe his aching back.  I was informed his own waterworks were out of order - maybe he needs a plumber or his foreskin loosening - who knows?

The hosts were playing with prickles and a puncturing eventually came when the fruity fellows squeezed out another onslaught that saw a cross come and No 2 (Ben Rosenbay) post home at the back post.  A well deserved lead and from here the action came thick and fast.

The Home Bargains eventually warmed to the task at hand.  A shot caused no concern, then a dream pass by No 20 (Joe Evans) found No 4 (Billy Mason) who thumped a first time shot that was unlucky not to level matters.  It seemed as though the resident ranks were looking likely to grab an equaliser but it was not so.  The yellow-clad visitors raced forth, they passed and pushed, space arrived for No 11 who chanced his shank and saw the ball squeeze beneath the mittman who really should have done better.  It was now 0 -2, there could be no gripes with the scoreline so far, the visitors were good value for money.

Now HB pressed.  A choice ball saw No 9 (Dec Daniels) receive and cross with No 11's (Will Dunne) end shot whistling over the bar.  The same team were soon swooping again.  Daniels was in a position to test the keeper.  Instead of shooting the striker unselfishly laid the ball on a plate for Billy Mason to thwack home. Somehow the mitter was given time to recover and a save was had.  The home bench were far from happy with the outcome.  Soon after the same frontman had another chance to bury, this time it brought shouts of 'handball' and 'get that fucker off' as the chance was lost - the sheepish smile from the striker said it all.

The game continued to exhibit plenty of animation and excitement with Daniels for the hosts coming close with a good shot on the turn that the gloved guardian did well to deal with.  A ruckus followed, head to head contact, a second rate Kung Fu kick, several handbags swung and a lot of verbals came - the referee did mighty well to quell matters.  

On the game went, the guests had a corner, Joe Evans arrived to put his swede on the sphere only to miss the strike zone.  The half began to wind down, the home team pressed with a shot at goal that saw The Chunks No 21 (Ishmael Banks) block on the line and duly get sent off.  The double whammy came when Daniels stroked home the penalty on the stroke of the break - 1 - 2 - there was still ample life in this game that was for sure.

The break was spent nipping to the bar, acquiring some cooling drinks and crisps and returning to the opposite side of the pitch - the iced orange and shade were a welcome respite.  

Half-two soon commenced.  With the leading team now down to 10 men it was a surprise to see them start quickly and create a move that saw Arnasalam's shot get neatly tipped over.  The angled hoof came and went before a settled period followed.  As the initial minutes of the half unfolded it was apparent that the HB squad could sense a way back into this one but then, from nothing, the Pineapple progressed and No 11 nipped in and made it 1 - 3 from an apparent danger-free situation.  Now then, what is going on here?

The Pines looked hungry for more, played some good football and displayed some above average movement.  Despite this tidal flow the hosts had the next two chances and started to adopt the role of King Canute with a little more success than the said cracked ruler.  A dipping shot almost grazed the horizontal and a low shot was closer than first deemed and then a ball was put into the box, a touch on came and up popped No 15 (Peter Mason) to prod around the keeper and get the deficit back to just one goal.

Now the hosts had their peckers up (I do hope they dipped them in sun-cream first though, there is nothing worse than a blistered bell).  A chance arose, a Pines defender put in a superb block to quell any threat but more marauding movement came with a long ball coming and Daniels providing a touch header to get this game all square.  I was struggling to maintain my notes here, too much was happening and the nib started to glow (the end of my pen was looking pretty hot too).

The local bookmakers now altered their odds, old Oily Joe, the greasiest turf accountant in the west, took down his boards and ran for the nearest cash point, this was now anyone's game.  The restart came, a free-kick for the visitors was awarded.  Arnasalam eyed matters up, swung the peg and watched the keeper grab, drop and reclaim.  From this slight scare the hosts galloped forth with purpose.  Will Dunne was in the corner, put in a lovely move and cross that was duly buried by No 14 (James Hammill) who brought great joy to his teammates and supporters with a quality laden goal.  How the buggery had this lot got their noses in front?

The game raced by now, HB's No 3 (Francis Foy) let go a volley that was sliced over and Arnasalam had a pop go wide at the other end which was a shame due to the fact that if any player deserved a goal it was this dude.  Before the final rattle of the pea Dunne for the home 'erberts had a dig that was neatly saved and then the same player put in a dipping free-kick that went mighty close indeed but couldn't add to the games scoring tally.  The referee blew soon after, this had been a bout of solid entertainment with man of the Match going to Home Bargain's No 9 (Dec Daniels) for a strong session of soccerised doofing with awareness, movement and space making ability the major contributing factors to the end choice.

We beetled off home afterward and I went and trimmed the Mother-in-Law's bush (now, now gentlemen) whilst my good lady did her filial duty - she is a lovely lady.  This had been a good jaunt out again though and one we shall repeat next season - the list just gets longer.

FINAL THOUGHTS - a game catching up with fine friendly folk doing things for the right reasons and a game that showcased 2 teams with much potential and a willingness to just get up and have a go.  Pineapple FC today were in the groove at times and yet somehow managed to go home with no points.  I don't know how they did this but it goes to show that when on top during the opening exchanges they should have bagged what they could and made sure their opponents were fatally wounded rather than slightly scathed.  Next season I expect this lot to be a better unit and I am hoping to be watching the odd game they are involved in, we can only wait and see.  Home Bargains displayed a good hunger today, battled on despite being under the cosh and came out victorious due to an undying belief and a full 90 minute stint.  They play a good long ball and have many good passing units in the mix.   They are a side it seems, that when on it, can issue out some severe trouncings, today however news came my way that they were a rather patchwork unit but still got the job done.  Good stuff indeed.

So there ya go, another jaunt into Liverpool, this time near Knotty Ash with no sign of any Ken Dodd look-a-likes trying to borrow a fiver off the unwary and no sign of any Diddymen looking to ply their sexual trade (hey ho, maybe next time).   The verdict - well worth the effort. 

FRUIT SOURED

13th June 2021 - Pineapple FC 1 v 3 Custys FC - I am in the midst of a swirling, twirling maelstrom of bugs and beasties and am sinking fast into an abyss of utter befuddlement.  I have had a week where I have led 4 activities, done a bit of work, attended to the local football club's strimming and nature area, seen over 300 species of natural specimens and tried to keep on top of other chores.  The heat has contributed to a certain fatigue, I was in need of a good Vitamin C burst.  Up early I checked the fruit bowl, a scabby satsuma, a browning banana and some apples that were as hard as bullets.  Sod it - a trip to Pineapple FC would have to suffice.  The good lady and myself set off, listened to some good tuneage on our trip - bands such as The Epoxies, The Seeds, The Others, Eye Scream Men and Airbomb graced our lugholes before we arrived at the location targeted.  We had a good chat to Sam, the missus of STP Stu - two good friends and with the latter an eager Non-League Ogler.  After locating Stu, refreshments were sought, as were teamsheets which were duly provided by the amiable and welcoming home manager Curtis Lopez. Predictions were discussed,  as per, we were clueless.  The game commenced at 11.30am, our awaiting fruit bowls of interest were hopefully to be filled with a juicy game very much needed.  To switch off, enjoy proper football and hopefully see a few net bulging episodes was the aim, this is how we were sated.

The Custy Crew immediately set out their stall by playing on the deck at the back and looking for a quick penetrating thrust (dirty blighters).  They looked a trifle unsteady, the ball was lost and in pounced the home No 7 (Jawad Jebrin) who had a quick dash, had only the keeper to beat but could only clatter the horizontal - a big chance missed methinks.  The guests countered but No 7's (Marcus Stewart) attempted lob was higher than a hippies trip on souped up acid - hey ma'an, that was way out!

The visiting tribe threatened a few more times, the opposing ranks stood firm with some regulated defensive work.  A wonderful corner came, a header followed and a handball shout went up from the Custy Men.  The referee was having none of it and the chaos was eventually cleared.  The guests continued to donate the more incisive and thoughtful moves but the next attack came the way of the Ananas comosus pack  with Jebrin on it, posting to No 3 (Liam Caddick) who shot and was thwarted by a nimble mittman.  A corner came, the chance was there to bury but was missed and then a quick follow-up attack saw the ball in the box and Caddick do enough to grab the opening goal.

The hosts were now on top but were, in the main, still slightly trigger-shy.  The next chance though soon came.  A through ball saw Jebrin denied by a sprawling keeper and a follow-up dig get blocked by robust outstretched shank.  As the fruity few pushed forth the Custy's Gang bounced back with a quick chip cross finding the rising belfry of Stewart who stayed as cool as a refrigerated cucumber and nutted home with consummate ease.  Now the game was really on.

With the game as well-balanced as the gonads of a sperm laden Giant Haystacks it was difficult to see who would get the next strike,  Semi-chances came and disappeared into the dazzle, the Custy's came close when a ball went out wide, was delivered with teasing quality and No 19's (Liam Smith) noggin was denied at the very last.  The last 10 minutes of the half came, a free-kick for the away team saw the globe boomed, hit the changing room roof and dislodge another ball that was seemingly lost - a boot one, get one free moment.

Before the interval the Pineapple pack squirted with juicy zest.  The thrust saw a low cross get touched goalward and bring a superb one-handed save.  A quick reaction shot came next and the double block was made, well played keeper.

The whistle for the break followed, we tried to cool down and listened to the local lads try to gee themselves up.  The sun was now building up some thermal energy, whoever was going win this one was gonna have to build up a good lather for sure.

From the restart the travelling team gave birth to the first attack.  The break was quick, the ball in sharp with No 8 (Rhys Hardacre) over zealous to get the lead goal and ending up hammering over.  End to end stuff ensued, a Custy's corner saw No 17 (Anthony Miles) receive and send in a peach of a shot that the keeper did mighty well to tip over.  The next corner was akin to the aforementioned hippy - utterly wasted.

Custy's were now on a roll, a dissecting pass was the result of much hustle, the striker breezed through and put in a quite superb finish.  In the heat and the haze I was struggling to pick out the goal-getter's number - it looked like Wilkinson again - I may be wrong.  (To add, I was wrong, it was Stewart again).

The game looked to be slipping away from the home side, it was now time to dig deep and make those last minute decisions count.  The yellow-clad tribe pushed on, but each and every time a threat was had, over elaboration and a failure to shoot marred the whole operation.  Several more balls into the box came for the home lads, the attacking force though seemed to be like a gathering of vampires - they looked shit-scared of the crosses that's for sure.  The industrious No 8 (Leon Arnasalam) did have a couple of pops, albeit straight at the gloved guardian and then the leading team re-settled, a marauding run was made with a strong cross provided saw Wilkinson fly in for but just fail to make contact with.

Time was now the Pine enemy, the closest they came to a strike was when one of their substitutes put in a ball that nearly dropped straight into the onion bag.  The same player put cranium on the sphere from a whistling corner, a save, a trembled upright (ooh err missus) and the danger disappeared.  The scoreline looked set in stone, Custy's recent arrival, Anthony Miles had other ideas.  When the ball was pilfered and he found himself in position from a fair distance out, the keen-eyed marksman had one look, swung the shank and cracked in a real beauty.  If a goal deserved to to sign, seal and deliver the 3 points this was it.  The game now faded, No 12 for the Pining Apples had a lash that was closer than first deemed and then, that was that.

For me a grand trip out, some good effort on show and Man of the Match must go to Pineapple FC's No 7 (Jawad Jebrin) for some steaming effort, great touches, a brilliant buzzing stint and an attitude and commitment to the cause that was a delight to see.  A shame he was on the losing side but I hope this is some consolation.

We duly buggered off home after the game, I reckon, all being well, we will return to this neck of the woods next week too - watch this keen and eager space.

FINAL THOUGHT - A fine day out, a good level of football and at a place trying to do its bit.  Prior to the game a tribe of kids were hoofing and doofing and I passed a comment to one of the organisers (Ricky Heywood take a bow) who was doing grand job. Mr Heywood was the Liverpool FC Pre-Academy/Foundation Coordinator - a solid role making sure many young un's keep fit, inspired and smiling.  This is what it is all about.  Keep at it chap!

To the teams involved in today's game and the Pineapple FC must be ruing the fact that they advanced so many times but dwelt too long on the ball, lacked options and urgency and just let too many chances fizzle away.  What I saw though convinced me of a team more than capable of going on a good roll in this league with some really solid players in the mix.  The key is to do more work off the ball, create space, stretch the opposition and don't dilly-dally when in the opposing box.  Several crosses delivered today were of high quality - the recipients were all absent without leave - something to work on methinks.  Custy's FC came, stayed controlled and conquered.  Over the 90 minute stretch they were the better team, they played with fire at times, especially at the back, but stuck to their game plan and exhibited a high level of discipline.  It was good to see both teams play with fine spirit, to avoid any yellow cards and to just crack on and do their thing - it says a lot about both set ups and their attitude.  

I reckon these two units will be viewed a few more times over the coming seasons, it is good to spread the word and get football from the recesses noted - here's to it.

DITTO

5th June 2021 - Denton Town 4 v 1 Vulcan FC - Last weekend I was watching Vulcan FC v Denton Town - this week I am doing the same, this is not like me at all.  Variety has got to be the condiment of doofing but time and tasks dictated today so I was strait-jacketed and had no other options available.  The morn was busy, gardening, tidying, finalising some wildlife records.  I checked a few stats, species seen has passed the 4,200 mark, wildlife areas recorded at is now up to 867 and records input on various national databases stands at just over 81,000.  I led my 350th wildlife walk this week, seen over 1000 bands in the last 20 years (since keeping count), reviewed 1600 CD's and this shall be my 365th match report.  The outcome, I am potless, as passionate as ever and still pissing in the wind.  The key though is - do and do for the love of it, any other way is bogus.  Punk not profit, DIY or DIE, give not take - simple hey.  

Stats keep me focused, help me to put back and keep my cluttered belfry in some kind of order.  I could seek out many more figures, I could put some beads on my nob and use it as an Abacus but then, not being able to count beyond 3 would make my old John Thomas more useless than it already is.  I do hope you get the gist though, you gotta keep active, motivated and doofing, talking of which, I was on the touchline again with the sun beating down on the crust and the head wondering how many goals would I witness today (now there's a thought, how many goals have I seen in my life - ooh forget it).  STP Stu was my company as well as Gareth and Sandra, punk pirate Paul North and a few other fine bods.  I predicted a 6-1 win for Denton, I had placed a bet of 25 rupees with local barman and Indian impersonator Jimmy - he said if I predicted the correct score he would not only pay me but throw in an electric Haggis too (he is Scottish after all).  The teams strode forth, I pondered the sexual gratification I could achieve with the said savoury delight stuffed up my arse - game on.

The first action came when Vulcan were awarded a free-kick.  No 16 (Stuart Welstead) delivered a low curler which the keeper did well to deal with at his far upright.  Denton responded with a corner that was played short, crossed and pinged wide from the cranium of No 5 (Cole McGrath) - it was a real chance lost.  This was a decent start from both teams with arse cracks well lathered and brows sporting sun-kissed sweat beads.  Denton began to probe but still needed to find the accurate weight of the pass to make that killer move.  

A brace of free-kicks came for the hosts, the first was well-fisted bringing back memories of a night in Holland with Liberace.  The second was hoofed straight over the bar, rekindling thoughts of a 1970's dwarf-flinging contest in the Dog and Duck.  This was a nice open game and a real chance seemed to be not far away.  The hosts cultivated a hat-trick of corners.  No 7 (Phillip Yuille) had a shot blocked from the first, the next two angled hoofs were best left unmentioned.

The guests now rallied, No 7 (Ben Crowe) collected a long pass and had only the mitter to beat - the finish was awful.  In return for this scare Denton's No 9 (Caylem Bateson) turned and twatted with the bottom corner awaiting a good bulging.  The travelling No 1 (Paul Salters) dove, reach out a gloved hand and pulled off a quality save - nice work all round.  

The stalemate looked to be set when the Vulcanites produced the best football of the game with a threaded ball, played on, stroked through the defence that led to No 15 (Owain Taylor) being crudely tumbled.  A penalty was the outcome, a penalty that Welstead stroked home with utter sanguinity.  0 - 1 - well, well, well.

The guests were worth the lead and the onus was now own the resident ranks to get back into this one.  After a drinks break The Town won a free-kick that was looped forth calling upon the keeper to tip over.  The resultant corner once again lacked quality.  Denton tried to bite, it was like watching a toothless hag tackle a frozen pork pie - very little impression was being made.  Suddenly a corner was earned, the ball was posted and McGrath arrived and made contact.  The home team shouted 'goal', the away team shouted 'no way', I shouted 'my willies rather warm' (one doesn't like to be left out).  The referee gave a goal and seemed disinterested in my clammy porker - hey ho, you can't win em' all.

The kick off came, Vulcan were still reeling, Denton were ablaze,  Within seconds No 11 (Lewis Loughman) was left to advance and have a punt.  The ball left the foot, called off at 'Deflectionsville' on its way to goal and was soon seen to arrive a destination 'Goal' in a matter of nano-seconds.  2 -1 - what a turn-around.

The heat now began to rise both on and off the pitch.  Voices were raised, the referee dealt with matters in the best way, the game cracked on and Town's No 10 (Shaq Lewys) muscled his way into position, placed a pass which was touched on for Yuille to pop up and collect.  The goal was spied, a daisy beheading shot flew forth, the keeper had no chance, 3 - 1 and the best strike of the game - and then half-time came.

We had a brew for the break, soaked up the rays and chatted away.  Being a 'no phone' man my wife had tried to get in touch via Stu's mobile - I gave her a ring to find out her mum had collapsed and they were waiting for help - oh heck.  I am blessed with a good Mother-In-Law, a lady who has always been good to us and a decent woman now struggling in her old age.  Fingers crossed things get sorted, sometimes life can be a real mocking bastard.

The game restarted, I felt a trifle subdued and as a reflection the game also became something of the same (or was it just me).  Denton wasted two gratis gifts and then the ball fell to the eager feet of Lewys.  A spurt followed, the striker had options either side but it was obvious the intent was on having a dig.  A fraction of space presented itself, the shank was swung and a quite gratifying strike was bagged - 4 - 1 - my prediction was still on, my rear was tingling in anticipation,

From here a certain 'snuffing out' dictated matters with no real chances coming.  Some solid tackling, good work from both rears and some solid containing work all put paid to any definitive opportunities.  Bateson for Denton put in a wriggling run but was foiled by some top notch defending and then Vulcan had a period of urgency but just lacked the assassins touch to cause any great concern.

Another break for a cooler and the last period saw Vulcan have the best chance when a swift move left Taylor with room to bury.  The shot came, was blocked and the follow-up effort looked certain to land in the onion bag - the outcome was a punt into the azure Heavens. A throw in for the visitors saw No 3 (Joe Coveney) glance on with the crust and stretch the keeper and then the game gasped its last breaths and we were done.  Not a classic second period but we did get a choice goal and the end result was justified,  Man of the Match goes to Denton Town's No 9 (Caylum Bateson) who, despite being a goal scorer, didn't get a goal today but who put in an exemplary stint with great passion, selfless off the ball running and a never say die attitude.  It was a real good 90-minute stint, good on ya fella, a controlled and tireless performance.

Farewells were had, Gareth and Sandra kindly dropped me off home after the match (thank you) and I cracked on and cooled down.  A good game and worthy of Denton Town's biggest attendance for 3 years - lovely.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Vulcan FC cobbled a team together, came, got struck in and were ultimately conquered.  The attitude though was spot on, for me the club will be better for this season and next year I am expecting an improvement,  It has been a strange campaign, a late spurt seemed to be on and then the shaft of hope went all flaccid - perhaps the gas left the tank a little too early or it is another thing to blame on Covid.  A pimple on the arse, a swollen nipple, spots before the eyes and a bad end of season - all symptoms of the virus it seems.  Denton Town did what they needed to do and although they are looking to be runners-up and miss out on promotion the foundations are there on which to build and next year they need to hit the ground running and make sure they battle hard for the full 90 minutes of each and every game.  Quality runs deep within the team, the end product of moves needs fine tuning and off the ball hollering needs upping but, other than that, it is all looking good.

I sign off with the Mother-in-Law on my mind and re-emphasising that in life football is not as important as it seems but is a game to enjoy, respect and be bloody well grateful of if you are involved.  Think on, be fair, be decent and be happy to be in touch with the hoofing game at the proper level.

PS - I will miss the last game of the season as I am due to lead a nature walk but thanks to all for this season's campaign, the many chits and chats and the fine enthusiasm - and also to Phil the Chairman for letting me do a bit for nature and the free book today - nice one.  Double PS - Jimmy - stick yer fuckin' haggis and good luck on the light entertainment circuit!  See ya all soon.

TITLE CHASING AND TANGENTS

1st June 2021 - Denton Town 1 v 1 Winnington Ave 94 - Summertime is here, it is easy to recognise - look at the lunatic behaviour out there and the gnawing procedure that is throwing everyone headlong into an all-consuming maelstrom.  I am a tetchy DIY punk bastard, I feel a bit rough too, acid reflux, aching joints and a frustration with the world in general.  A bit of sun on the glabrous pate and I may just crack at any time - ooh me ruddy noggin.  Luckily I have a means of escape - noise, nature and non-league - and although these 3 areas are invaded by much nob-rottery, within the simplicity I cling on to, I hope to fight for some semblance of sanity.  The glorious game at level 'reality' is there to be enjoyed, mulled over and to keep heads enthused - as long as machoism, rank stupidity and 'my dad can fight your dad' idiocy stay out of it what we have is a world of fun, good wholesome competitiveness and a way to keep minds away from more mundane going's-on.  I arrived at the ground hopeful of some head-clearing animation and found a corner where I indulged in a solo-chill.  I chomped on 4 turkey salad sandwiches, swilled a bottle of Ribena and partook of the literary weavings of Emile Zola.  A local lady came for a chat as did Denton Doofer Rob Nicholson.  It was a shame to hear the work I have been doing for nature is getting trampled by local youths and I felt my spirits plunge no end when I witnessed the same tramplings during the match.  Note to self - cut your losses.  As time ticked on the carcass was moved. I belched, cleared the burning food tube and picked a spot where I was joined by touchline friends Gareth and Sandra and a few other amiable bods including Denton's keeping coach Aaron Tyrer.  I duly let the pen weave a merry path over the notepad, albeit in a tired and downbeat kind of way.  Come the end of 90 minutes I needed a good squirt, was rather clemmed, tired and had scribbled the following observations.

Like a drugged up Greg Norman with a rectum full of vibrating golf balls the Winnington lads were animated from the off and looking to knock their opponents straight down the fairway of no hope with a chance of putting them in the rough.  A quite glorious crossball invaded the hosts red alert zone, it was a shame to witness some final contact that was pure crap.  The guests came again, a whipping cross flashed wide, and then after another foray forth Denton's No 10 (Shaq Lewys) purloined the sphere in his own half and went on a rampaging bull run that it was advisable to stay well clear of.  The legs pounded the green baize, momentum was unimpeded by several timid tackles, the end shot came, the save at the near post was more than adequate.  2 corners followed, both lacked penetration.

The game continued, the travelling pack were the more impressive unit and had the better of the chances.  No 7 (Reece Barratt) had a decent pop that just missed the right side of the vertical.  Denton reacted with some beefy work from their No 9 (Caylem Bateson).  A corner was the reward for the efforts, alas the delivery was far from good enough.  Back and forth the game went, the next action arising from a stunning pass from W94's No 15 (Jack Duffy) who sweetly found No 11 (Steven Warburton).  A swift pass followed, No 9 (Shane Davies) looked to latch onto it and open the scoring, the home No 1 (Phillip Pole) however was quick off the mark and gathered well.

A highly animated game continued, Denton's No 8 (Joshua Mainwaring) provided a lovely touch and pass which Lewys benefited from,  A booming shot ensued, it looked on target but these peepers were very much mistaken.  Darn my ruddy spectacles.

A water break was brief and from the restart the guests pounced.  An angled kick was won, the ball was posted with many potential recipients rising and failing to make contact. At the far post Duffy was allowed time to gather and set his sights - wallop, 0 -1 the touchpaper had been lit.

This lead was nearly doubled soon after when a choice long ball saw Warburton gallop like a man with pepper on his gonads.  A shot came, a deflection had, which was followed by a quality save.  More sorties forth came, Denton were on the back foot and not looking like a promotion chasing team. The hosts managed to hold on to the break only 1 goal down - there was still a chance of bagging this one.

TANGENTS - For half-time I stayed put and waggled the jaw with a few of the aforementioned folks. Denton Dave came for a natter and relayed a couple of startling facts.  Who knew that one's testicular sac was a great place for rearing young turtles and equally fascinating was the fact that Dave once spent 6 weeks in a bath of Ravioli so as to raise awareness for neglected Hunchbacks - the man has a heart of perverted gold. I once had a pseudo-Hunchback experience.  I overdosed on a batch of acid after reading Victor Hugo's famed novel.  I tripped out and ended up in a room decorated in dead men's willies.  It was a ghastly journey and when a local vagabond found me in a heap muttering the shock laden words of 'ooh the bells, the bells' - I wonder if he truly understood what I meant. 

Before the game restarted I was given a pot of mint by a kind gent I know from the touchline, what a lovely thing to do.  It will be wisely planted, I reckon at Cheadle Heath Nomads and then when grown will be spread elsewhere.  The game recommenced, Winnington carried on from where they left off. A mouth-watering long ball came, Duffy displayed a moment of outstanding skill and put in a sound cross.  A killer touch was missing which was a real shame as it would have made for some goal.  

With Winnington looking for the kill, Denton upped their response.  A cross followed a simplistic move, Bateson showed great technique and walloped via a pseudo-scissor kick that seemed to tear him a new arsehole.  The ball had too much uplift and sizzled over the bar.  The hosts were now activated into a determined drive.  A ball was stroked out wide following a brace of passes.  The cross was instantaneous and Bateson was there again, this time to nut home from a tight angle and round off a real contender for team goal of the season.  What an absolute pearling equaliser - a brilliant moment.

The new found belief of Denton now contributed to a real good half of football with both team's looking for the winner.  The home lads came again, the Winnington defence opened up like a vicar's butt cheeks in a satanic gay bar (a terrible thing to witness don't ya know).  A shot looked to be on but the visiting No 4 (Ben Lambert) put in a pure top drawer tackle. 

Tireless indulgence in the game came, The Town had a couple more attempts at goal.  No 14 (Aaron Clayton) put a pop through a pack of players, the keeper did well to watch the flight of the globe and collect.  A long ball came next, No 5 (Cole McGrath) the deliverer with No 17 (Richard Farrington) on it.  The defending mittman advanced, a shot came, the groans emitted told the tale of the outcome - wide of the mark the ball went.

The deadlock seemed immovable, a stalemate looked set in stone until a certain disarray invaded the Denton rear parts.  W94's Warburton worked forth, the ball was squeezed to Duffy who only had to hit the strike zone - the effort had too much fizz and uplift - chance gone.

Despite the resident ranks playing with desperation and creating some good sub-chances, Winnington stood firm, protected and tried to pounce, but failed to make any further impression.  There was good tension in the contest up until the last with all player's getting on with matters and playing the game in good spirit.  1 -1 was the outcome, it had been a fair game of football with Winnington's No 15 (Jack Duffy) the Man of the Match after showing some fine skill, exhibiting a thinking brain and putting in a decent workrate that kept the opposing defence on their toes.

After a chat with the Denton chairman regarding my temporary retirement from the nature Project due to pesky invaders and a share of gen on the wide world of music I beetled off home ready for a snooze.  Not a bad game this, it could prove quite decisive.

FINAL THOUGHTS - The away team came with high intentions and put in a very good shift.  The first half they deserved the lead and should have been 2 up if the truth be told.  Communication was excellent at all times, in all areas of the pitch they had some quality and the keeper at the rear organised his ranks well and seemed to be in the right place, at the right time, on numerous occasions.  The unit are always going to be are difficult nut to crack, similar in fact to the rare Buttock Nuts of the African Wildman which I once tried to bite through after the said maniac got me in a special wrestling hold.  By heck me choppers were sore after that encounter.  Denton Town took out their footballing todge tonight, took aim and had a good piss on their chips of hope during the first 45 minutes.  Tucked up and ready for the second period they gave a better account of themselves but the damage had been done and Winnington were certainly not going to be pushovers.  With great fortune, promotion may still be had, but I reckon next season will be the time to see this club really shine.  All the tools are in place, there seems a good camaraderie around the gaff, all we need do is have patience and get out there supporting.

GRINDING

29th May 2021 - Vulcan FC 0 v 2 Denton Town  - The gears are grinding, and I am finding, that making progress of late is darn hard work. Work is busy, a certain degree of buggeredness has invaded the framework and now an upswing in heat has really tested the mettle of this eager beaver.  The morn was spent sweating like a nob obsessed pervert in a Turkish gay bar (phew, what steamy places) and doing the garden for one of the Cheadle Heath Nomad's directors, who may I add is neither gay nor Turkish but was prone to heavy sweating as he turned the pages of his newspaper whilst my good lady and myself cracked on.  It was a productive and positive morn although before setting off for the game today we needed to nip home, have a quick swill and shake off a bit of the old brow water.  No sooner had we freshened up than we set off to the game with the tyres heating up and the in-car thermals rising.  40 mins was the time of the excursion, we were glad to arrive, park the rears and have a snack and a drink.  The two teams were building up a lather, and a fellow was marking out the lines to get the game underway on time - a veritable Last Minute Larry with a waggle in his step as he pushed his paint spilling contraption.  Kick off was a few minutes late, we were joined by fellow punk peddler and football obsessive Paul Swinnerton and whilst we all committed to some gas-bagging, wiping the brow and slurping tea, I observed the game to run as thus:-

The peepers were peeled, the initial action to invade the retinal receptors saw a few early chances come from a great melee of movement and the game get halted whilst the home team changed their shirts.  It seems local fashion expert Gilbert Gussett was in attendance and the colour clash was giving him untold nervous difficulties.  I hear Mr Gussett is sponsoring the club, when a man splashes the cash, every whim must be attended to. So with an easier on the eye commencement of matters I continued my textual observations that some may deem bordering on the codswallop.  

The next action saw a Town long ball find the ever-willing No 10 (Shaq Lewys) who collected, eyed the strike zone from about 15 feet out and let fly.  The peg that was swung was overloaded with wild abandon, the ball was given it's orders to propel itself with force, preferably on target,  The said globe concurred with the command of 'oomph' but said 'fuck that' to the request of accuracy!  Vulcan now responded, a free-kick saw a belfry boom the ball but disappointingly miss the target. Soon after and No 10 (Charlie Tannant) snuck in on the blindside (wherever that is) and looked to bury.  The initial touch was awful and the chance was gone with Denton immediately responding with an attack that saw Lewys get clattered, play get waved on and No 9 (Caylem Bateson) squeeze in a shot that just rolled wide.

The game had good 'welly', both teams were looking to open the scoring with the guests coming mighty close when a liquid move of applaudable proportions ended with a thumping whizzer that rattled the underside of the horizontal.  Panic ensued, a corner was the minor award with a superb pop into the box had that allowed Number 6 (Joseph Ojo) to rise like a seal jumping for a fish and put nut on globe and grab that all important opener.  Palms came together, 'jolly good that man' was shouted by a nearby monocled gent, I concurred and added my own 'hoorah for the goal-getting fellow'.  Tis all jolly good fun tha' knows.

The Vulcanites now pressed, made ground but fell apart at the most crucial moment.  Similar in fact to the lego man who was about to indulge in a bout of 'how's your father' and duly crumbled.  Some argy bargy threatened to invade matters when Denton's No 7 (Marcello Arhin) was crudely clattered. Thankfully a few cool heads took control and those hot under the collar were wisely restrained.  A delay came and then the expected free-kick.  The postage of the globe into the box was somewhere between first and second class, the attempt at a clearance definitely fell into the latter category with a net busting shot of the former type.  We all thought it was 0-2 but the referee was seemingly blessed with the eyes of a Goshawk and had spotted an infringement and so pissed on the partying chips.

The game from here to the break got a trifle messy (which is nearly as bad as a messy trifle) and somewhat tetchy.  A Denton corner whistled through an in-box pack of players without receiving a gentle kiss home and Vulcan had a late free-kick that was best described as 'shite'.  The break was welcome.

Tea and mandible wags was the order of the interval - punk rock, football and other proper topics were discussed.  It was just good to be out, in fine company and avoiding the general tossology of the masses.  And back to the action!

The restart was done in great haste, no sooner had I prepared my optics than Denton had found the net only to be deflated by a handball decision.  A double-dump was taken on rising hopes when the ball bulged mesh soon after with Bateson left in great anguish as an offside verdict quelled any celebration.  As an onlooker, I felt that the leading team needed to get a second goal to assure victory and do it in double-quick time.  This was still a tight contest, one slip and it could still be anyone's.

The Vulcan Bombers tried mighty hard to make an explosion but the opposing force were quick to smother any potential and keep hold of their slim advantage.  A Vulcan delivery into the perilous zone eventually came, the cross was laden with quality but so was the keeper's punch and things stayed as they were.  Chances remained few and far between and we entered the closing stage wondering if there would be a late twist in the tale.  Suddenly from an innocuous position Denton pilfered the ball, a pass came and the keeper was the only man to beat. The save that followed was most assuredly of 'lifeline' content, well played that man, namely No 1 (Callum Spencer).

The clock was now racing down, where would the next goal, if any, come from?  The answer, via some route one football.  The Denton No 1 (Phillip Pole) hoofed forth, Bateson neatly touched on and No 10 Lewys was at the angle. A quick cut back, a slap home and the lead was doubled and the victory confirmed. And about time too. From much hustle and bustle the simple solution was the key.   The final gasps saw little in the way of top end action, the game ground down to the final whistle and Denton Town looked overjoyed with their 3 point prize.  Man of the Match goes to their No  6 (Joseph Ojo) - a quietly authoritative player who cracks on, mops up any potential mess and has a good physical prowess and ease on the ball to provide a much needed solidity.  

Farewells to our punk partner were had, he was off down Telford to catch another game.  We trundled home to chill, we have been busy of late don't ya know.  One thing is for sure though, Vulvan FC will be graced by our presence again, it is a very tidy set up.

FINAL THOUGHTS - Vulcan FC are a solid side just lacking a few minor ingredients to make them the complete package.  A few nippy sprinters is a must, preferably down the flanks and in and around the box.  They must be complimented on trying to play football at all times but always look to be in danger of being out-hustled if the opposing force is really up for it.  I suspect next season they are definitely a top three team but take note, predictions are not my forte.  Denton Town are on it.  They lost their first four matches of the season and yet are still knocking on the rickety door of promotion.  The team have good desire, good muscle and a fair bit of pace but for me, the discipline will be the key to any future success and if they can let their football do the talking, they are destined to be promoted, if not this time, then certainly next.  The foundations are built from the back, the rear ranks are looking more solid with each and every game, it is crucial that off-season work is carried out to hold the team's structure firm.  There is still much excitement in this Cheshire League Division One yet - hold onto your hats and tighten your thongs folks, the final few matches will provide many answers.

THE GOOD, THE BAD, THE VERY, VERY UGLY

25th May 2021 - Cheadle Heath Nomad Reserves 5 v 3 Windle Labour FC - 19.00 hours, the scene was set.  The local Nomadic posse was in town, waiting for a showdown with the travelling bandits from down St Helens way.  Rumour had it that a few gunslingers were in the vicinity - namely - Try-It Twerp, Messy Staines, Wild Bill Cock-Up, Billy The Skid (Mark) and Muffalo Bill.  It was a shame Thrutch Cassidy couldn't make it but his recent strainings down below had seen him laid up in his shack whilst being attended to by Calamitous Jane.  Hey ho - these things happen!  So the shoot-out was set, I looked on as the black-clad sheriff looked to maintain law and order. Tonight I was pen and paper free, this report is merely the recollections from the cranial gunk, hold onto your saddles folks, things could get mighty rough out in these here parts - hot darn tootin'.

The game kicked off, both sides looked to play things real smooth with the opening goal coming via the hosts after a liquid move was finalised by the marksman No 10 (Kyle Foley)!   A response was sought, things looked promising until the game was halted, a warning was given to the pink clad Windle keeper (ooh suits you sir) and an indirect free-kick was granted to the hosts in their opponent’s box.  As one can imagine, things became heated, verbals began to fly and temperaments began to melt quicker than a wax vibrator left on a sunny windowsill.  The bonus boot was taken, a touch and wallop - 2-0 it was and a touchline eruption came.  A red card was shown, men sporting bibs emblazoned with the words 'respect' seemed to be unaware of the meaning of the word and a minor merry Hell ensued.  The local preacherman's daughter ran for cover, western porn-star Clit Eastwood downed several Rye Whiskeys and Annie Chokely accidently shot off her left titty as things started to get a trifle 'stupid'.  The Nomad players were persuaded to let their opponents score a gratis goal, the man in the middle was duly labelled a 'right twat' - there was much injustice apparent.  The game needed help, I tried to wire a telegram to that nosey-do-gooder Casey Jones, apparently he was stuck out in the backwoods after a unprecedented landslide.

The game continued, both units tried to play, the thermality had lowered somewhat but the visiting bench kept up their niggling commentary.  More goals came, somehow Windle had got their noses in front with a hat-trick of strikes that were all of decent quality.  The action was interspersed with several goal-line clearances and a few quality saves from both ends. The Nomads finished the first 45 on the back foot and an explanation as to this sudden turn of events was lacking. The break came, I was expecting the local Can-Can Girls to serve up a knicker flashing treat, all I got was a glimpse of George Gibbons (Nomads Chairman) arse crack as he bent down to pick up a few quarters from the well-traversed touchline (it just didn't have the same arousing appeal).

Half two began, the game stood at 2-3!  Both packs had reloaded and looked to mow down their enemies with efficient accuracy.  The Nomads were instantly at it and from the kick-off a deliciously simplistic move saw Foley bag a hat-trick and put the end result up for grabs. A few more dubious decisions came, the gobwork aimed at the man in the middle was saucy but remained in check, one had serious concerns though if any more untoward decisions were made.

The next strike soon came, it was from the penalty spot with the Nomads No 4 (Lee Constantine) slotting home with aplomb.  The verdict looked fine and dandy - it was just as well.  We now had a period of decent battling football, credit where credit is due with the WL frontmen battling away with fair gumption and unlucky not to get the rub of the green on several occasions.  Suddenly the hosts broke, a couple of passes and Foley was there yet again to sweep home - it was now 5-3, a game with everything, even a low flying Ring Neck Parakeet shouted out in excitement.  It was a pity the local Red Indian Tribe took offence to this avian delight and the leader ‘Big Chief Rubber Ring’ nailed the noisy flutterer with a will-aimed arrow.

The final throes looked to be settled until yet more off-pitch hollering crossed a border and the referee, with a face of disgust and dejection decided to call it a day.  The straw breaking the camel’s back was a threat laden with ill-intent, just imagine if there were kids present, just imagine what the consequences could have been due to a lack of discipline - not good at all is it.  So the game was done, a potential belter abruptly full-stopped for all the wrong reasons - hey fuckin' ho.  Man of the Match, No 10 (Kyle Foley) I don't think I need explain why although mention must go to the Nomad's No 1 (Jake Gartside) who had a right confidence building game - a very positive aspect on which to sign off - hot diggity dog!

FINAL THOUGHTS - We have had over 12 months of pandemic-based piss arsing and in some quarters there has been no progress.  A chance to reflect, ponder and come forth with a more respectful and positive attitude has been lost in a majority of realms and even Non-League football is an example of this.  The referee had a shocker, but the fact is, these guys come, allow the games to go ahead and certainly don't deserve to be subjected to the trash talk on show tonight and issued with vile threats.  Football is game, nothing more, nothing less, if we can't enjoy, behave and encourage at this level then what chance the world - sadly the answer seems to be 'no chance'.  

The events of the night were a shame and the way in which matters were called to a halt were justified but still left a sour taste in the gaping gob.  The bench of Windle Labour let themselves down and got too hot under the collar and so blighted their attempts at winning an intriguing contest.  The team played some good football at times, really moved the ball about well and on one or two occasions were a stroke away from scoring a couple of very memorable goals.  Instead they went home with no points, with a few folk looking foolish and with a few regrets to suck on - not the best way to finish a night of ball hoofing.  As per, The Nomads kept their heads down, cracked on and let their triggers do the talking.  Several strikes were wonderful, the keeper made some quality stoppages and, despite having a mid-game blip and allowing the opposing team back into the mix, the squad did well to take stock and retake command - good work I reckon and always a pleasure to see.

So home I went after the game was prematurely pulled. I was baffled by the going's-on, befuddled by some people's inability to take great pleasure in watching a game unaffected by big business shittery and certainly discombobulated by the need to hurl abuse and be so ruddy embarrassing in public.  If people are so wound up in life my advice is to go and visit a local 'Wank Doctor' - learn a few new tugging techniques and then find a tee-pee, zip up the flaps and spend a week getting all the inner angst out of the system.  If one reappears with a sore nob but, with a more genial and considered approach, the job will have been a good un'.  Remember - there are people dying, homeless, starving, mentally ill, in all sorts of trouble and with no hope within a world turning to utter shit.  Football is a blessed escapism, a place to encourage, enthuse and share some great moments and quality time whilst keeping folk happy and off the dusty, depressing streets. Respect isn't just a word, it is a way of life, think fuckin' on - so sayeth Davy Fuckett - 'King of the Mild Frontier' and I for wholeheartedly concur.

And to add – from Windle Labour on Twitter – ‘The club would like to issue an apology to everyone involved in last night’s fixture including the Cheshire Football League and we will work to address the issues.  Last night was an embarrassing moment and again we offer our apologies.  It’s not something that represents our club in any way'.

This is good to read – note to self to catch em’ again soon and do them a report that does them justice.  One has gotta be honest and fair!