20-2-10
Non, je ne regrette rien…
A turbulent first half almost sank the Miner’s, but a spirited second revived them in a seven-goal thriller at the Genix. Ossett Albion looked forlorn and lost in the first twenty minutes, as an early lead for the home team and dominance in possession ostensibly spelled trouble for the visitors. A Shane Kelsey inspired mauling ensued, until Town pulled off a comeback worthy of the Russian rout of Le Grande Armée from Moscow, as the forces of Bonaparte were smashed to smithereens. Three goals, and Robert’s your mother’s brother.
Speaking of Napoleon; Cedric the ref brought a certain je ne sais quoi to non-league officialdom. From the continent, Mesdames et messieurs… A brave man, officiating in a second language, in a country that a recent ruler of his people attempted to conquer, and against a side whose match reports contain frequent mentions of historical wars, for the sake of ‘infotainment’. However, he did well, so metaphorically tip of the cap, mon ami…
Town’s venomous fangs drew first blood, like John J ‘Raven’, as a well-weighted ball through sent Greaves into a one on one situation. From an angle, he clipped it over the advancing goalkeeper in a fine effort, and it was un á zéro, mes sale putes…
The downturn began before the twenty-minute mark, as some foul individual named Bentley didn’t go so gently on the Garforth back line, and it was un, deux before one could say voulez vous coucher avec moi, fromage seins… Liam Ormsby cut in and fed Greaves, who shot wide, and Garforth produced a howling, disgusting, terrible fail worthy of epicfail.com, when Town newb Paul Walker dallied when through on goal, decided to round the defender haring after him before shooting, and lost possession. Soon after that woeful misjudgement, a terrible third was conceded; a failed Ossett counter attack led to a clearance and miscontrol, and the subsequent shot was saved. Kelsey converted the rebound, following a fumble.
Half time came, thankfully, and with it Maria McKee and Show Me Heaven.
It left me breathless.
Early in the second, Dominic Blair sailed a cross in from the left, which Duncan Williams met with a looping header that attained the accuracy of Private Pyle sniper fire. The keeper was helpless. One, two Garforth’s coming for you… three, four I predict 3-4…
A shot from range was saved well, yet the rebounding ball did not offer the lurking attackers the same luck that befell Kelsey in the previous half, and the chance went begging. Town defended much more strongly, and Ossett had less of a sniff than Boy George in rehab. Substitute Lee Mason entered the fray, and almost reclaimed parity for the home side when his shot culminated a jinking run, and was narrowly placed wide.
Williams bagged a second, as Garforth truly pulled back into the game. An adept finish evened the odds, and instigated ‘squeaky bum time’ for the Albion. And it was on… on like Donkey Kong…
I foresee a film. Based in a football stadium, one white guy… one black guy… kinda like the Garforth bench. But this is one where the character redeems himself… and it’s called… the Genix Redemption.
Based around a horrific, terrible miss early in the game, the protagonist accepts the ball in the final stages of a tremendous comeback, and adroitly lifts it past the keeper to win the game for Garforth 4-3…
Wait… this happened. Based on a true story. Paul Walker, 86 minutes, redemption, back of the net…
Town held on to the not so bitter end, and brought home the bacon in what Adam Cooper termed ‘a real six pointer’. It razzled and dazzled, sizzled and fizzled…
Non… je ne regrette rien…
On an unrelated side note, tonight is the last stand of Mirko ‘Cro Cop’ Filipović and Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira. Maybe Wanderlei Silva too… but he’s fighting an Englishman in Michael Bisping… but come on Cro Cop, one more head kick! And come on Nogueira! War!
Wild boys never lose it… LeBon’s voice will echo through the arena tonight. I hope he’s right.
Saturday 20 February 2010
Monday 15 February 2010
Garforth Town 0 - Salford City 1
13-2-2010
Sporting talent and affable, likeable personalities often do not go hand in hand. The appeal of many high calibre athletes has stemmed from ill will and bad karma, with more viewers seemingly tuning in hoping to see the cocksure braggarts get humbled. It has been a successful business model for many professional fighters; Naseem Hamed, Chris Eubank, Muhammad Ali, Sugar Ray Leonard, Badr Hari, Brock Lesnar… the list goes on. This too was clearly in evidence at the Genix on Saturday, as despite a performance highlighted by many near miss chances on goal, Garforth were sunk by the most unpopular footballer in non-league football history, as the genetically inferior Giggs brother converted a penalty to give Salford City the three points in a smash and grab raid.
Salford is a city of nearly a quarter of a million people, and at least thirty of them made their way across the Pennines to the white rose side of the land, Gods Own Country, to support a team whose <0.1% support percentage of the populace may well be due to the signing of Rhodri Giggs…
The first chance of note came from an Ormsby header, as a curled cross was redirected towards goal. With the keeper beat, the ball hit the inside of the post, agonisingly, until a desperate lunge cleared the danger from the Salford six-yard box, and the visitors breathed a little easier.
Several opportunities arose for Tom Greaves, Town’s top scorer of the season. A passing interchange fed him through, and it was a last ditch tackle that prevented the conversion. Another defensive cock-up from Salford and Greaves was almost through again, but a well-timed challenge sent him wide and gave Town the corner. From the ensuing inswinger, a header was cleared from the line, and Garforth were firmly in the ascendancy, in the drivers seat. To claim Salford competed with Garforth in terms of goal-scoring opportunities is akin to maintaining that Hirohito had a hand in the International Military Tribunal For The Far East.
Sadly, while Garforth defended stoutly, even barbed wire, machine gunners and the Berlin Wall didn’t prevent the bravest of East Germans escaping Simon Clifford’s favourite political ideology. Salford broke through, once, and a justly awarded penalty was awarded following a shove. Rhodri Giggs stepped up, and to be fair to him, it was a perfect penalty. Top corner, side netting. The wall breached, winds of change…
Garforth should have been awarded a penalty, however. Walker was not once, but twice besmirched inside the box – once tripped, the other time used as a ladder. Clear infractions of the rules, my friends, and if Referee Wonder failed to spot them, Eli Dingle the linesman could have at least raised his flag, and Seig Heil saluted for the home team! Two penalties… the law of averages states that at least one would have been converted. That makes a draw.
Robbed blind by incompetence. Garforth never seem to get much luck. It was Euripides that said, “Authority is never without hate.” Also, that “no one who lives in error is free.”
Thus, for not awarding our rightful penalties, thou is curséd, heathen. Repent, and thou shall be saved.
Nathan Kamara came out of a challenge worst, and the number 8 for Salford decided to re-enact Roy Keane/Alfie Haaland. Nice one. Number 8, you are a scrub, which is precisely why I have not even named you. Rant away, clown.
Dominic Blair entered the fray on 71 minutes, and almost scored on 72. An interchange saw him take the ball in his stride and burst through, only to slice the shot narrowly wide with only the shot stopper to beat. Yet another Garforth goal that should have been, could have been, yet wasn’t to be.
Town newb Danny Moore hit the crossbar soon after, and in the following five-minute period, several low crosses were skied from close range. It was one of them thur’ days, boss…
Salford escaped with a win. It was not deserved, and in the first half alone, Garforth should have put the game out of sight, which was freely admitted by one of the Salford officials, who wished to remain nameless. Garforth next play at home on Saturday, and will look to bounce back strongly with another improved performance when using the pre-Christmas debacles as a measuring stick.
Town are improving, and unlike against Salford, that should correspond with the results hopefully to come. We shall see. War.
Sporting talent and affable, likeable personalities often do not go hand in hand. The appeal of many high calibre athletes has stemmed from ill will and bad karma, with more viewers seemingly tuning in hoping to see the cocksure braggarts get humbled. It has been a successful business model for many professional fighters; Naseem Hamed, Chris Eubank, Muhammad Ali, Sugar Ray Leonard, Badr Hari, Brock Lesnar… the list goes on. This too was clearly in evidence at the Genix on Saturday, as despite a performance highlighted by many near miss chances on goal, Garforth were sunk by the most unpopular footballer in non-league football history, as the genetically inferior Giggs brother converted a penalty to give Salford City the three points in a smash and grab raid.
Salford is a city of nearly a quarter of a million people, and at least thirty of them made their way across the Pennines to the white rose side of the land, Gods Own Country, to support a team whose <0.1% support percentage of the populace may well be due to the signing of Rhodri Giggs…
The first chance of note came from an Ormsby header, as a curled cross was redirected towards goal. With the keeper beat, the ball hit the inside of the post, agonisingly, until a desperate lunge cleared the danger from the Salford six-yard box, and the visitors breathed a little easier.
Several opportunities arose for Tom Greaves, Town’s top scorer of the season. A passing interchange fed him through, and it was a last ditch tackle that prevented the conversion. Another defensive cock-up from Salford and Greaves was almost through again, but a well-timed challenge sent him wide and gave Town the corner. From the ensuing inswinger, a header was cleared from the line, and Garforth were firmly in the ascendancy, in the drivers seat. To claim Salford competed with Garforth in terms of goal-scoring opportunities is akin to maintaining that Hirohito had a hand in the International Military Tribunal For The Far East.
Sadly, while Garforth defended stoutly, even barbed wire, machine gunners and the Berlin Wall didn’t prevent the bravest of East Germans escaping Simon Clifford’s favourite political ideology. Salford broke through, once, and a justly awarded penalty was awarded following a shove. Rhodri Giggs stepped up, and to be fair to him, it was a perfect penalty. Top corner, side netting. The wall breached, winds of change…
Garforth should have been awarded a penalty, however. Walker was not once, but twice besmirched inside the box – once tripped, the other time used as a ladder. Clear infractions of the rules, my friends, and if Referee Wonder failed to spot them, Eli Dingle the linesman could have at least raised his flag, and Seig Heil saluted for the home team! Two penalties… the law of averages states that at least one would have been converted. That makes a draw.
Robbed blind by incompetence. Garforth never seem to get much luck. It was Euripides that said, “Authority is never without hate.” Also, that “no one who lives in error is free.”
Thus, for not awarding our rightful penalties, thou is curséd, heathen. Repent, and thou shall be saved.
Nathan Kamara came out of a challenge worst, and the number 8 for Salford decided to re-enact Roy Keane/Alfie Haaland. Nice one. Number 8, you are a scrub, which is precisely why I have not even named you. Rant away, clown.
Dominic Blair entered the fray on 71 minutes, and almost scored on 72. An interchange saw him take the ball in his stride and burst through, only to slice the shot narrowly wide with only the shot stopper to beat. Yet another Garforth goal that should have been, could have been, yet wasn’t to be.
Town newb Danny Moore hit the crossbar soon after, and in the following five-minute period, several low crosses were skied from close range. It was one of them thur’ days, boss…
Salford escaped with a win. It was not deserved, and in the first half alone, Garforth should have put the game out of sight, which was freely admitted by one of the Salford officials, who wished to remain nameless. Garforth next play at home on Saturday, and will look to bounce back strongly with another improved performance when using the pre-Christmas debacles as a measuring stick.
Town are improving, and unlike against Salford, that should correspond with the results hopefully to come. We shall see. War.
Wednesday 3 February 2010
Garforth Town 1 - Farsley Celtic 0
2/2/2010
In boxing, there is the mercurial Sugar Ray Robinson, and then the rest. Such greats of pugilistic prowess as Ali, Lennox and JC Chavez are thus confined to the role of vying for the 2nd spot, for the right to call themselves the best but one. Similarly in mixed martial arts, Fedor ‘the Last Emperor’ Emelianenko sits atop the craggy peaks of Mt. Invincibility like some fat, bald Russian reincarnation of Hercules, a 5’11 expressionless cyborg walking tall in the land of giants, having established himself as the greatest professional fighter to ever live. Others of renown are in turn relegated to staking their claim for the moniker of ‘second greatest’, men of steel, the Cro Cop’s of the world, no less impressive for their inability to dethrone a man who could armbar God Himself. Like this, in the Leeds area, United AFC will always be the king, the white peacocks of Elland Road. At Garforth Town on Tuesday 2nd February, two of the other football clubs of the LS area battled for a cup semi-final berth, on a cold, wintry night in West Yorkshire, to see who could be, on that night, the number two.
The first half saw a surprisingly even battle. Farsley are of course recent veterans of the Blue Square Conference, and a fully professional outfit. Indeed, without their points deduction, they would currently be sitting pretty near the top of the Conference North, in the midst of another promotion push. Garforth, meanwhile, were promoted twice in the Noughties to earn a UniBond League status, two levels below their visitors, a semi-pro club.
Farsley almost opened the scoring with a well-worked free kick, a shot soon after that sailed over, and an outrageous dive in the quest for the wrongful award of a penalty. In the subsequent attack, they showed some good one touch football, and could have converted from a dangerous cross that was sent through the six-yard box.
Town soaked up the pressure like a huge polyurethane sponge, and responded with several counter attacks. While neither goalkeeper had to withstand Operation Gomorrah, nor stand tall under ze Blitzkrieg, both sides had their chances, Garforth most memorably with a counter that sent Mark Piper heading through on goal, though the defence recovered well. Later, Duncan Williams was put through by Greaves, but his shot was fired straight at the shot stopper. Another Williams effort saw the youngster released into space, before darting up the right channel and firing a shot low across goal, which was saved. Shortly before the break, Town newb Danny Moore found himself in an expanse of space, and fired a low shot from thirty-five yards; a fine effort, well saved.
Half time was called, with the accompanying announcements over the PA system. Recently returned is the maestro, magnificent masterful master of ceremonies, Adam Cooper, back by popular demand. Tip of the metaphorical cap to you, stud…
The second half saw Garforth take charge, comfortably handling their opponents, as would Mariusz Pudzianowski with three average men, or one small bear. The game ebbed and flowed, until the despicably horrific challenge perpetrated in the penalty box; animalistic, brutal, disgusting. Town were awarded the spot kick, and Greaves converted it.
Unless Farsley scored, Garforth Town were the second greatest team in the Leeds area.
The Miner’s held on to the end, though the expected last ditch efforts from Farsley hardly amounted to the Mongol siege of Yinchuan, though of course they don’t have Genghis Khan for a manager. Nor a shaman, and ninety thousand warriors… Either way, Town progress, en route to defending the trophy they so thrillingly claimed a year ago in southeast Leeds.
Two wins from glory!
WAR GARFORTH
It’s a craic, they’re back, yeah and standin’ on the rooftops shoutin’
Baby I’m Ready to Go-oh!
In boxing, there is the mercurial Sugar Ray Robinson, and then the rest. Such greats of pugilistic prowess as Ali, Lennox and JC Chavez are thus confined to the role of vying for the 2nd spot, for the right to call themselves the best but one. Similarly in mixed martial arts, Fedor ‘the Last Emperor’ Emelianenko sits atop the craggy peaks of Mt. Invincibility like some fat, bald Russian reincarnation of Hercules, a 5’11 expressionless cyborg walking tall in the land of giants, having established himself as the greatest professional fighter to ever live. Others of renown are in turn relegated to staking their claim for the moniker of ‘second greatest’, men of steel, the Cro Cop’s of the world, no less impressive for their inability to dethrone a man who could armbar God Himself. Like this, in the Leeds area, United AFC will always be the king, the white peacocks of Elland Road. At Garforth Town on Tuesday 2nd February, two of the other football clubs of the LS area battled for a cup semi-final berth, on a cold, wintry night in West Yorkshire, to see who could be, on that night, the number two.
The first half saw a surprisingly even battle. Farsley are of course recent veterans of the Blue Square Conference, and a fully professional outfit. Indeed, without their points deduction, they would currently be sitting pretty near the top of the Conference North, in the midst of another promotion push. Garforth, meanwhile, were promoted twice in the Noughties to earn a UniBond League status, two levels below their visitors, a semi-pro club.
Farsley almost opened the scoring with a well-worked free kick, a shot soon after that sailed over, and an outrageous dive in the quest for the wrongful award of a penalty. In the subsequent attack, they showed some good one touch football, and could have converted from a dangerous cross that was sent through the six-yard box.
Town soaked up the pressure like a huge polyurethane sponge, and responded with several counter attacks. While neither goalkeeper had to withstand Operation Gomorrah, nor stand tall under ze Blitzkrieg, both sides had their chances, Garforth most memorably with a counter that sent Mark Piper heading through on goal, though the defence recovered well. Later, Duncan Williams was put through by Greaves, but his shot was fired straight at the shot stopper. Another Williams effort saw the youngster released into space, before darting up the right channel and firing a shot low across goal, which was saved. Shortly before the break, Town newb Danny Moore found himself in an expanse of space, and fired a low shot from thirty-five yards; a fine effort, well saved.
Half time was called, with the accompanying announcements over the PA system. Recently returned is the maestro, magnificent masterful master of ceremonies, Adam Cooper, back by popular demand. Tip of the metaphorical cap to you, stud…
The second half saw Garforth take charge, comfortably handling their opponents, as would Mariusz Pudzianowski with three average men, or one small bear. The game ebbed and flowed, until the despicably horrific challenge perpetrated in the penalty box; animalistic, brutal, disgusting. Town were awarded the spot kick, and Greaves converted it.
Unless Farsley scored, Garforth Town were the second greatest team in the Leeds area.
The Miner’s held on to the end, though the expected last ditch efforts from Farsley hardly amounted to the Mongol siege of Yinchuan, though of course they don’t have Genghis Khan for a manager. Nor a shaman, and ninety thousand warriors… Either way, Town progress, en route to defending the trophy they so thrillingly claimed a year ago in southeast Leeds.
Two wins from glory!
WAR GARFORTH
It’s a craic, they’re back, yeah and standin’ on the rooftops shoutin’
Baby I’m Ready to Go-oh!
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