Redditch United v Weymouth.

Another One Goes By.

Redditch United 2-0 Weymouth
Saturday 28th April
Evo-Stik League Southern Premier Division

The Valley Stadium, Redditch
Attendance: 371

That's that then. Goodbye 2011/12 season. We won't miss you, you were rubbish! Shit off!

Maybe I'm being a little hasty there.

On the pitch progress has been made. Last season we stayed up on the last day, this season it was secured in the penultimate game. Last season we finished one above the relegation zone, this year it was two. If we continue to improve at this rate then we are gonna piss the league in the 2027/28.

Nice mural you've got their Redditch, but something doesn't look right. Have you....

Off the pitch evil wazzuck George Rolls has left (*does dance like Carlton Banks*) to have a play around with Kettering and we're now in the hands of a community trust. Sadly Rolls left the place in a bit of a mess, leaving behind £40,000 worth of debt, 47 tubs of extra greasy hair gel and 12 rotten quiches, but things are looking better than they have done for a long time.

....you have, you've taken someone else's mural and tippexed RUFC on to it. I'm on to you Redditch!

We've got similarities with Redditch. They too have suffered a financial crisis and crushing relegations and look to be coming out the other side. But they've got one thing we haven't got, a star player. They've only bloody got ex England and Aston Villa star (and victim of a burglary by Trevor Francis's son, Lee Hendrie. Their manager also has none of the glamour of Premier League. Why it's only ex Sheffield Wednesday midfielder scrapper Graham Hyde. WOW! 

 OK Redditch, I'm going to do your health and safety assessment today. What's that? Smoking area? Gas canisters? GET OUTTA HERE!!! THIS WHOLE FRICKIN PLACE IS GONNA BE BLOW SKY HIGH!!

It's fair to say Hyde's a little excited about having Hendrie in his squad, so much so he included this gushing waffle on him in his programme notes " the signing of Lee just gave us that extra quality we lacked at certain times...as the saying goes 'it takes 10 players to carry the piano, but only needs 1 to play it”

Hang on a minute there Graham. There is no saying like that. It makes no sense. All kinds of question arise here Graham.

Surely 10 trained pianists shouldn't be forced to carry a piano, they're not cut out for such work. They have dainty, dexterous fingers, not the fingers of a brute use to the mammoth task of shifting a piano.

Ten people to move a piano seems a little excessive? What are your overheads?

Why not hire experienced trained piano movers.Using an unqualified person could result in damage to the piano's case and its mechanics and then where will you be Graham? Think on.

Will being required to move the piano themselves invalidate the terms and conditions of the musicians expensive insurance?

Two people can play the same piano at the same time Graham. Are you not familiar with the Marx brothers superb piano dueting skills?

Now Graham, you did a lot of good work in helping to raise awareness of the centre parting long after it went out of fashion but your analogies are, frankly, misguided.

 mmm weedy

 

mmm slanty

I like the ground. Old terraces with weeds poking through, weird shaped stand. Marvellous. The floor of the bar has tremendous carpet. I bloody love non league carpet. There's two eye strain inducing budget Alba TV's stuck high up on a wall. They're tiny. Minuscule. They could probably be covered up with two piano keys and the shattered wrist bone of a classically trained pianist forced to hastily remove a detuned grand piano from the third floor of, now bankrupt, Lee Hendrie's opulent £1.7m mansion. 

 Probably still on hire purchase from Rumbelows. Possibly not 3D compatible.

mmmm carpety

On every wall drawing pins hold up laserjet printed signs "no boots in the clubhouse", "Please queue here for the bar", "CCTV operates in here 24 hours" (probably a lie) and "please come to our end of season party cos you know it'd be really cool and I'd like to buy you a spritzer. Your hair looks pretty" (embellished that one slightly). The only one I can't see is the one that the locals were all strictly adhering to which says "Please do remember to elongate your vowels and talk like you're trying to clear cotton wall, soaked in a crème Egg McFlurry, from your nasal passages."

It's a good job you put the NO in red capitals, otherwise I might have strolled right on in with my Puma King's on.

Will there be quiche?

 Jeepers! It's only the box that holds that alarm master controls!

It's last day of the season, a day to bask in the spring sunshine. Wrong! It's penis shrinkingly cold. It's the last day of the season and there's nothing to play for. That means an exhibition of football. Wrong! Weymouth could have been six down at half time, nine by the end and we didn't even have a shot. We were woeful. If you'll allow me I'd like to comment on this performance by using an overblown indulgent metaphor that I'm sure Graham Hyde will understand.

What? Eh? I just don't understand....eh?

The players, well Graham, I'm not sure I'd trust some of them to remove a child's plastic xylophone from a branch of the Early Learning Centre, let alone be trusted with a concert grand piano.

The manager, well he might be looking for a new job in the summer. His attempts to introduce new songs consisted of my pianist doing little more than mashing the keys like a child high on energy drinks throwing a violent tantrum. His previous experience was directing the shipment of a Casio VL-1 keyboard to a draughty venue where a rabbit fearing mute would entertain crowds by pressing the "demo" button and mime the hits of B'Witched.

Token match shot.

Our attempts to move the piano today were embarrassing. There's no formation, no skill and we made little attempt to get the piano near the stage so the pianist could perform. I fear, that sometime soon, my precious piano is going to tip over backwards and explode into a tuneless mushroom cloud Graham I really do.

Quite honestly Graham if things remain the same were gonna struggle next concert season. My biggest concern being that support for my piano orchestra dwindles after a series of poor performances which culminates in a disastrous concert. A concert in which my inept piano movers fail to place the piano centre stage on time and my classically lead pianist is booed off stage after trying to entertain a packed opera house with a series of squelchy armpit farts.

Up the Terras!

Tytherington Rocks v New College Academy

Turn On The Bright Lights

Tytherington Rocks v New College Academy
Saturday 7th April
Uhlsport Hellenic League Division One West
Hardwicke Playing Fields
Attendance: 45 (ish)

Swifts. Casuals. Angels. Supermarine. All good team suffixes. But Rocks is a winner. A clear winner. Tytherington Rocks sounds more like a "Battle of the Bands" competition, attended by various, pre-pubescent, Green Day tribute acts staged in a dank village hall, rather than a football team on the way up. I like it.

Part four of the AiT titled "Road Signs in Grounds"

The Rocks history contains a couple of comedy nuggets. Formed in 1896 the club originally travelled to away matches by Waggonette, a type of four wheeled horse draw cart. It gets better. The club disbanded in the 1920's after being suspended for failure to pay a fine imposed after a some dodgy decisions saw a referee jostled into an adjoining brook! When I rule football all teams will be forced to arrive for FA Cup finals by waggonette and managers who moan about referee's will be dunked into a pond.

Don't go in there! It's a trap!! There's crocodiles behind there.

Anyway, enough of the past. The future is bright for Tytherington Rocks, but not quite bright enough. They're playing at the highest level in their history and, last weekend, secured the Hellenic League Division One West title. Sadly it looks like they won't be allowed promotion as they don't have floodlights (I'm starting a whip round to buy them these). They do have swings and a tiny stand that's wedged in a luscious hedge though. Surely that's enough?

First time I've seen dugouts bigger than a stand. Small. Far away.

The clubhouse celebrates the past and the plots the future of the club. The walls are covered with photos of previous teams (each one seemingly including someone mugging to the camera), old kits, photos of men carrying trays of tea, a letter from “Darren and the Tauntonhoppers”, a huge sign commemorating this seasons title win (including the club badge, which appears to be two iced gems tumbling rapidly down a disappointingly performing line graph, all being watched over by a hovering hubcap). Amongst all this are posters for meetings to discuss ways to raise the funds needed for them pesky light bulbs.

Bristolian tinpot honours don't get much bigger than this. To see one this recent is a great honour. *wipes tear*

Who can forget that magical day when Chris Waddle just happened to be passing in his full Sheffield Wednesday kit? Eh....

Idea for improvement: Referee torture chamber.

The Rocks pen pics show that the squad consists of a bunch of weather beaten tinpot warriors and a diminutive striker who looks identical to M People's bongo player Shovel. The New College pen pics introduce a squad who are all under 20, have ridiculous quiffs and are introduced by top banter (*shudder*) laden comments like “loves cling film”, “loves bling” and “loves his little sister”.

There goes the ref! Get him! To the river boys!!!

Who can forget the magical day when a terrible performance led to one referee being buried alive under the clubhouse. Some people say whenever a linesman makes a bad offside call you can still hear the screams from this referee. Others say it's just the pea stuck in the ref's whistle.

Ten minutes before kick off a fully kitted out linesman strolls in the clubhouse, enquires about the early Premier League result, has a friendly chat with everyone and wanders out again. I misread the mood and getting him in a headlock and trying to dunk him in a bucket of cold water was an act of misguided folly.

Um....games the other way chaps.

Rocks dominate and produce passing moves slicker than a polished granite worktop. Shovel swipes the legs of a walking Topman mannequin, the defensive outcrop captain barks orders continually, the left back greets defensive headers with an almighty "fuuuuck", one of the subs carefully fetches a tray of teas and walking stick shaking pensioners offer their own bizarre encouragement, "get into his head, he'll be a winner if you get into his head". It's pretty easy to see why they've been so successful this season; tea and walking sticks. That and scoring five more goals than the opposition always helps.

So, let me get this straight. That's a sign saying the "league now operates Zero Tolerance towards the use of 'Inappropriate Language'" with a mega swear word? Good work!

Goal one comes just before half time, from defender Tony Perry, and then it's all back to the clubhouse, where there's uproar from one OAP at the content of the pasties, "do you have to pay extra for meat?"

The home subs go through a rigorous warm up routine of booting the ball at each others nutsacks. Those on the pitch adhere to the tactics, which consist of the non league staple, "squeeeeeeeezzzze" with additional "put our stamp on it" and the innovative "get on your tippies" formation for combating set pieces.

NUTS!

Jack Smyth goes on a jinking run and smashes the ball in, shortly afterwards captain Andy Criddle scores a header which brings a forward roll celebration. A few minutes later Criddle then queries a throw in call by the inquisitive linesman with a jocular shout of "controversial linesman". The referee fails to see the humour and issues a ticking off, which brings the flirty retort of "I'm having a bit of fun....he knows I love him". Attitudes towards officials clearly have changed substantially in the last 90 years. From drowning to unrequited love.

There's two more goals for Rocks before the end, as the Swindon defence crumbles like a permeable sandstone, taking their tally to 101 for the season.

Token match shot.

Rocks have asked the FA for special dispensation to install floodlights over the summer but they're not hopeful. As I hate to see tinpot injustice I'm willing to lead the march on FA Headquarters and force those no goodniks into a rapid river. Who's with me? Gentlemen, to bed! For the wagonnete leaves AiT Towers at 8:30, for 9.

For more on Tytherington Rocks, their history and their battle for floodlights have a look here.