An air of inevitability descended this afternoon on fortress 'Egerton field' as the Grappenhall battlers were beaten by a very ordinary Bexton team. In the same way that the Manchester United push for the title gains momentum, the Grappenhall slide towards second division football reaches ever closer.
Grappenhall looked good on paper. A strong outfit. Strong enough to reject Norms plea's for a last minute call up. And I suppose with a lithe Halliwell back from his prolonged sojourn (three months out with a dodgy knee and three months out golfing and skiing) and our favourite Flity making one of his rare appearances ( I presume the lovely Mrs F had her back turned as you tip toed out at lunchtime). Our talisman Mecrow back from Les Alpes, number one pitch in magnificent shape, the sun shining and a team in good spirits from last weeks Mossley epic........What could possibley go wrong?
Ray whistled us away and the early signs looked good. Bexton had plenty of the ball and knocked it about competently but they barley threatened the Coyne goal. Their propensity to make mistakes matched equally with our inability to thread more than two passes together. From my lofty view up field I concluded early on that Bexton would struggle to score today. I decided that they were crap and today we would win.
Bexton had the run of the openning exchanges. A reluctance on the part of the Grappenhall players to win the first ball or the second or third come to that. lethargy? Lack of desire? a mystery...but an ailment that has affected some if not all of our performances at certain times this season. The first goal came out of nowhere. Nothing special. Typical bagatelle goal mouth rebounds and a Bexton slot into the corner. One nil to them. They seemed happy. Would that awaken the Grappenhall boys? indeed it would not. The dog walker who paused momentarily to look on whistled his hound and shuffled off. nothing worth watching here.
But then as is the way with Razor, a moment of rare quality out of nothing. A nodded on long ball and some masterful poaching on his part saw the scores levelled just on the stroke of half time. No Bradley to invite us to leave over the oranges. Mecrow out. Cropped by their De Jong. All square and all to play for as we were whistled away for the second 45.
Now what was this. Hold on what was going on. Hussain bite, Flitcroft tenacity, collective hustle and bustle. We had finally switched on. First ball won, second ball won. Harry, chase, close down, track back. A modicum of fight. A pinch of desire. But it was enough. The tide was turning. They were ruffled and kicking it long. We wrestled the control from them and from my lofty view up field I decided that Bexton would capitulate and today we would win.
They didn't even really turn it on but their second goal was very neatly dispatched by their portly No16. Some room found down the flank and a speculative cross thumped into the net by the surprisingly agile bounder. Heads went down. And then they scored again. Nothing great once more. Their forward finds himself one on one with Coyney and Coyney did get his hand to it but into the net it rolled and we were three one down. They seemed happy.
The mad Irishman can always be relied on to foster the fighting spirit. Never one to give in. Once he readjusted his focus from looking to crop De Jong to trying to spurn us on, his brilliance shone bright. Oh and what a goal. Some would say a speculative cross but I will hear nothing of it. A thirty yard beauty nestling nicely in the top corner. Three- two. The Bexton heads went down and the Grappenhall team perked up. Now we were winning every ball and they were wobbling. One more was the shout. Come on lads..... and from my lofty view upfield I decided that Bexton were spent and we would go on to win.
Then they scored and that was that.
4 - 2 it finished. They weren't really very good at all. But they were better than us...........
.................And so as we spiral towards oblivion I reflect from my lofty view upfield and conclude that we WILL survive. We will win our remaining matches because we have the genius Will and Mecrow who can do anything and Razor who can shoot harder than Peter Lorimer and Cookie (where are you Cookster) who no one can get past and Leighton who is mazier than John Robertson and PEM who with Bradders and Halliwell shore up the back more magnificently than Ferdinand and Vidic and Rob who puts his groin on the line in every sliding challenge and TOK who rules the centre field and Illif who tackles like scholesy and Coyney who can jump higher to catch a ball that Shaquille O'Neal and Quent who runs twice the distance we do and Norm who Torres like is our most natural finisher and then we have the lads who are ever willing to come in and help out Forest Hadland and JK who has been ever present and Chris 'the scream' Orr who we needed today and VIP and Flity who is simply brilliant and Dicko who bagged a hat trick out of nothing and Gregory who can kick arse and Richie Howells who ever that is and Pete 'tree trunk legs' white who is the best full back never to turn out for us and lastly our impartial ref Ray who can NOT be relied on to win us a game. We are Grappenhall vets and we will survive......
...........Just out of interest though, where is Chelford?
SCE
