Unofficial Halesowen Town FC Forum

Halesowen Town 4 - 0 Yaxley FC
19/09/2020

MATCH HIGHLIGHTS: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lts4dhaqU64
MANAGER INTERVIEW: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QboAt0YCAXI
PLAYER INTERVIEW: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGCh0YdZG7Y

Chippy again from the gaffer when questioned about the squad size / omissions.
I like it.

YeltzDoc wrote: ↑

20 Sep 2020, 13:24

Rumours on the terraces yesterday that the notable omissions were on the naughty step for playing Sunday Football.
I suspect the days of Stourbr*dge Rolling Mills and £50 in you boots haven’t entirely stopped.

Are there "rumours" of an alternative match report, in the offing? Or are they exactly that, just rumours?
I'm asking for a friend

Hahahaha. Maybe. Currently dropping No 1 child off at Goldsmiths to start 3 years of drunken revelry in this South London shithole.

As an aside. I’m currently outside the university. Nearest team we’ve played?

410viawednesbury wrote: ↑

20 Sep 2020, 14:04

YeltzDoc wrote: ↑

20 Sep 2020, 13:24

Rumours on the terraces yesterday that the notable omissions were on the naughty step for playing Sunday Football.
I suspect the days of Stourbr*dge Rolling Mills and £50 in you boots haven’t entirely stopped.

Are there "rumours" of an alternative match report, in the offing? Or are they exactly that, just rumours?
I'm asking for a friend

He was driving too and from his Yorkshire hideaway yesterday, Wednesbury, so probably not refreshed enough to produce similar warblings to last week.
But then again.....

Oh, ok, no pressure, I'll let my "friend" know!
The competition answer.....I'll go Fisher Athletic?

Correctomundo. Twice I believe. We lost Frank on the tube the second time. Found him again though.

Currently scribing in a Saino’s car park.

Bloody one way system.

Not the one round the town centre, which I’ve now got used to after 10 years, the one in the Edward.

Like the antithesis of that programme Lenworth won, Old Faces. Everywhere. Nods, elbows, fist bumps. It must be killing The Squirrel as he can’t hug anyone. Thanks for coming.

Finally sorted the Oakhams and walked outside into another Inferno. Scorching in the exec seats in the car park. Mental note. Get their earlier next time for one of the gazebos. Or a hat.

Toddled to the middle turnstile as instructed. My name was down, so I was coming in. Hoorah.

The snake out of the bar reached all the way to the BT lady. Tell Sid! Or was that British Gas, either way, the queue’s too long. So we pressed on, parched, to an unfamiliar position on the Town side.

Another season, my 37th? Seems more. There was never a time without. Thank fuck. And we’re off.

They looked bigger than us, as always, bonk ‘oss up front. Dunno about orange. But, the future was bright.

Cobourne nearly, and again, and Hewitt to the extent I celebrated. Not another one of them games? Yes. Not. 1-0. New bloke.
Then again, an overhead, no Paul Hunter at the same end vs Barry (Town, not bloke), but tasty.
Then a poacher’s nip in front. Matchball in 10 mins. Not since the days of the 3 blokes stood to my left. Was that really a generation ago? I’m now feeling as old as their left back who’s getting smoked by our new gen.
Their dobbin got one in the middle somewhere but it was us who were off to the races. Sim simmered, Gregory pecks at their defenders and Holmes detected that it was our day. Groan.

Fortunately the queue had gone down and Sid provided beer that did similarly. Actually cider. The ale had run out. Scandalous.

On that subject, the South Derbyshire King of Yamp was missing but discovered hiding by Brother Avery, another unfamiliar vantage point but I can watch this stuff from anywhere. He watched it in a series of Dame Edna’s finest. And, on cross dressing, the lady Chairman came across to say hello in a lovely summer frock. Without prejudice, you never saw that from Nigel Pitt. Allegedly.

Oatcakes and automatic mowers dominated the discussion as old supporters slipped into old habits and talked old bollocks. Apparently the mower can find its own way onto the pitch, do a job and find its own way back again. “We’ve had players who couldn’t manage that” clipped the Brummie.

Confusing now. Was that 5 or 6?

Manning, the lifeboats not coming for Yaxley, who parted like the orangey-Red Sea and he celebrated his goal in exactly the way that Steve Vowles didn’t.

Agricultural efforts allowed Sim to postage stamp it from the spot and we continued to deliver. Timmy Langford. I think. Anyway...

Yates, like Lazarus but skinnier, whip quick, whip smart (apparently only in the footballing sense) and whipped in unopposed after a 3 on 1 break.

Finally the bladder gave out and I trudged, knowing it’d cost. It did. Missed Westwood’s dink as the glare of the TV talent’s teeth dazzled me, as he did them.
Were they Klopp’s spare set or was she breaking them in for Shergar. We’d have had no such issues with Hugh Johns.

And that’s what Smith will need to protect his squad. No, scratch that, it’s what oppositions’ custodians will have to have, Caldicott-esque from back in the day. Maybe he borrowed them off of Kenny Everitt’s preacher.

But Yax didn’t have a prayer even though the last 10 went without us approaching the double figures we deserved.

Wowzers.

I don’t think that’s it’s a Kerry Giddings false dawn, I sweated buckets and we sweat goals. A season in the sun for us and in the hot box for our oppos.

Notts landing next. No drama.

Start dusting a George off Westy.....

YeltzDoc wrote: ↑

20 Sep 2020, 17:07

Bloody one way system.

Not the one round the town centre, which I’ve now got used to after 10 years, the one in the Edward.

Like the antithesis of that programme Lenworth won, Old Faces. Everywhere. Nods, elbows, fist bumps. It must be killing The Squirrel as he can’t hug anyone. Thanks for coming.

Finally sorted the Oakhams and walked outside into another Inferno. Scorching in the exec seats in the car park. Mental note. Get their earlier next time for one of the gazebos. Or a hat.

Toddled to the middle turnstile as instructed. My name was down, so I was coming in. Hoorah.

The snake out of the bar reached all the way to the BT lady. Tell Sid! Or was that British Gas, either way, the queues too long. So we pressed on, parched, to an unfamiliar position on the Town side.

Another season, my 37th? Seems more. There was never a time without. Thank fuck. And we’re off.

They looked bigger that us, as always, bonk ‘oss up front. Dunno about orange. But, the future was bright.

Cobourne nearly, and again, and Hewitt to the extent I celebrated. Not another one of them games? Yes. Not. 1-0. New bloke.
Then again, an overhead, no Paul Hunter at the same end vs Barry (Town, not bloke), but tasty.
Then a poacher’s nip in front. Matchball in 10 mins. Not since the days of the 3 blokes stood to my left. Was that really a generation ago? I’m now feeling as old as their left back who’s getting smoked by our new gen.
Their dobbin got one in the middle somewhere but it was us who were off to the races. Sim simmered, Gregory pecks at their defenders and Holmes detected that it was our day. Groan.

Fortunately the queue had gone down and Sid provided beer that did similarly. Actually cider. The ale had run out. Scandalous.

On that subject, the South Derbyshire King of Yamp was missing but discovered hiding by Brother Avery, another unfamiliar vantage point but I can watch this stuff from anywhere. He watched it in a series of Dame Edna’s finest. And, on cross dressing, the lady Chairman came across to say hello in lovely summer frock. Without prejudice, you never saw that from Nigel Pitt. Allegedly.

Oatcakes and automatic mowers dominated the discussion as old supporters slipped into old habits and talked old bollocks. Apparently the mower can find it’s own way onto the pitch, do a job and find its own way back again. “We’ve had players who couldn’t manage that” clipped the Brummie.

Confusing now. Was that 5 or 6?

Manning, the lifeboats not coming for Yaxley, who parted like the orangey-Red Sea and he celebrated his goal in exactly the way that Steve Vowles didn’t.

Agricultural efforts allowed Sim to postage stamp it from the spot and we continued to deliver. Timmy Langford. I think. Anyway...

Yates, like Lazarus but skinnier, whip quick, whip smart (apparently only in the footballing sense) and whipped in unopposed after a 3 on 1 break.

Finally the bladder gave out and I trudged, knowing it’d cost. It did. Missed Westwood’s dink as the glare of the TV talent’s teeth dazzled me, as he did them.
Were they Klopp’s spare set or was she breaking them in for Shergar. We’d have had no such issues with Hugh Johns.

And that’s what Smith will need to protect his squad. No, scratch that, it’s what oppositions custodians will have to have, Caldicott-esque from back in the day. Maybe he borrowed them off of Kenny Everitt’s preacher.

But Yax didn’t have a prayer even though the last 10 went without us approaching the double figures we deserved.

Wowzers.

I don’t think that’s it’s a Kerry Giddings false dawn, I sweated buckets and we sweat goals. A season in the sun for us and in the hot box for our oppos.

Notts landing next. No drama.

Thank you for the alternative report, hotly anticipated, gratefully received and eagerly read! I think you may have started something............cue the, incoming, telephone call!