Cod Almighty | Match Report
by Tony Butcher
30 December 2020
After the revolution comes the defentystration of the local leadership!
Is Shorty shortly to return to our lives? Is he still Shorty, or is he now Snippy, Snappy or Mr Happy? Is that him there in the duffel coat? Or is he disguised as a wiseguy bearing gifts? Can Town make him an offer he can't refuse?
Here's to the future, it hasn't quite yet begun.
Ah yes, a football match. Oldham turned up in white and red stripes, removing the culture clash of blue and not blue. Well, we aren't feeling blue now, even if Dave Moore's knees are.
Mmm, the pitch looks muddy.
1st half – The future is now
Oldham kicked off towards the Pontoon and straight into the upper Frozen Horsebeer Stand. It's never gonna be a classic against the lumpy Latics.
Ooh, ooh Mr Peevly, a through pass nearly to Williams. We shall not see him again.
Hewitt, in a frantic frenzy, tackled everyone, especially those in monochrome. Edwards knock-kneed and Russell missed the resulting cross. Russell panicked a bump ball straight to a Latic and shots were blocked.
Bahamboula! Se necesita una poca de gracia. Blimey, what a man, as little drummer boys bounced off this behemoth.
Half way through the half and finally the ball moved near a goal. Waterfall glanced on a free kick, Lawlor plucked as Hendrie stretched. Another free kick and Lawlor grasped a flying Pollock.
Pin back your lugholes. And finally, Cyril, we're indebted to a gentleman from Oldham for providing this snippet: a shot in the dark, it happened one night.
Way–way out Williams wobbled a free kick wide. For those of you watching in black and white the green grass is next to the brown mud.
Humpings high, lumpings long, pumping passes and grumping at this ghastliness. You know what this is? It's unseemly.
A big Green chest-off set Edwards up for cross-field slalom and scoop widely wide.
If you’ve got make a fool of somebody you may as well leg up the passing Garrity. Pollock booked after double Edwards powder-puffery passing.
As the lactic acid built, the Latics attacked the black and white block. Preston panned by Bahamboula, the cross deflected and a shot that was longed for by those watching in the avenues and alleyways of Oldham.
The bullies were bullying the little lads at mid-morning break.
One minute was added. That minute lasted a minute, as minutes often do.
Ah, ice cream at half time. I scream at Williams, you scream at Williams, we all scream at Williams. What a chore bore.
2nd half – The empty chair
Neither team made any changes at half time.
Edwards, our diminutive Dembele tribute act, double twizzled and crossed though the centre of the middle…but. There's always a but…but there's no-one there. No iffs, no buts, we need Townites with guts.
A linesmen ailed alone under the Police Box and Dave Moore's death stare failed to fix his health issues. Off he hobbled as the fourth official replaced him and out came a chair.
Who's going to sit in the chair? Who's the fourth man?
Dave Moore and his amazing dancing bare knees? No!
Tilley the mild-mannered minstrel? No!
It's Paul Hurst, isn't it! No! No fourth man appeared, and we were back to the ancient times of not long ago when substitutes were done manually, that is once a year.
The Oldhamites upped their intensity, swaggering down the street pushing over old grannies and timorous teenagers whilst chewing gum. So Town took off their weediest kid and put on the mighty muscles of Tilley. Williams off? Was he ever on?
Foul throw! Higgledy-piggledy pom-pomming in the Town penalty area and a red shot deflected. Corners in, corners out and Preston headed onwards. The practical Latics headed back to where Danny Boy wasn't and Waterfall snickered away at the near post. Some big head grazed the corner on over all and overall not a jot happened.
Bahamboula swizzled, Waterfall intercepted. Bahamboula bounded about with gay abandon as black and whitesters bounced off his immensity. He's a big man and he is in shape. Once, twice, and thricely monochromers scythed and missed as he swished in the shadow of the Frozen Horsebeer Stand. Felled by the fourth the free kick arced and Piergianni flicked wide.
Bahamboula drove all night just to buy some shoes. And he's off again swaying across the pitch leaving a trail of Town destruction. Barnett cut in and Russell cut out the danger with a flap aside. Phew.
Changes were made here and there, now and again, but really, who cares about any of that apart from the arrival of Little Harry. Clifton added passionate perk.
Eight minutes were added.
Well, we lost five in the hunt for Gollum, and Oldham didn't even bring on Bilbo Baggins. Have they no comedy chops?
It's that man again! Blimey Bahamboula bounced away and suddenly Barnett was freely free on their left. It's the hope that kills, isn't it. The hope of the dullest of no score bores and the inevitability of being punched in the sucker. Hoorah, hurrah for Dixie! Russell spread a little happiness with a smother swipe aside and Piergianni headed back across goal to nowhere.
Well, at least we had a go. Little Harry got on his bicycle to kick wayly over after a soupcon of striped surging as time goes by.
And time ended. We are at the end of days, the end of the Ancien Regime and the end of this match.
Two weeks ago Town would have lost this two or three nil. A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, and at least this one wasn't a step backwards. When everything looks so dark sometimes you just have to accentuate the positive.