Bobby Mimms reports
Eighteen months. That's the gestation period of an Asian elephant - not necessarily because they're bigger than pretty much anything else on Earth, but due to a hormonal mechanism not seen in any other species of animal that causes their calves to develop slower. Similarly to that extended pregnancy, Friendship Masters Cup holders Maghull Vets hadn't lost a game in a year-and-a-half before Convocation rolled into town on Saturday, but then, at the worst possible time for the home side, Nelly started to give birth - and it wasn't going to be pretty.
Apart from the result, there was little pleasant about the afternoon. It was a gloomy, overcast day all round, typical of this period in early November when people in Britain become nostalgic about burning Catholics (despite it still being daylight - well, what passes for daylight at this time of year - someone in the locality was setting off fireworks just before kick-off), and it drizzled more-or-less constantly throughout the game; a Mancunian erstwhile First Team captain would later describe the pitch, somewhat over-exaggeratedly, as "heavy-to-aquatic going." Also not to anyone's liking, or at least so the impression was given, was the non-arrival of the match official the hosts had (supposedly) booked and they grumbled and woe-ed-their-luck prior to the start; one of their men would have to referee, a state of affairs that didn't seem as unfortunate as the Maghull players - no actors they (the Lady doth protest too much, and all that) - were making out, and a fairly regular occurrence at this particular venue that a more cynical person than your correspondent (snort) might suggest has contributed to that long, unbeaten run they were on.
Within a minute of the home side getting the game underway, attacking the canal end, Convo could have had the lead. There can't have been fifteen seconds gone when they forced an opponent to concede a corner and, after much faffing around with randoms on the Maghull sideline, John Redmond put the ball into the mixer, whereupon the #1 - decked out in bright orangey-red - took the Jack Douglas approach to goalkeeping and nearly fumbled the thing into his own net, pouncing on it at the second time of asking, just before it did.
Almost immediately the home side attacked down their inside-left and one of their men burst into the eighteen-yard box and fired off a wicked shot that required Convo 'keeper Ste Livingstone to make a fine save/block at his near post - the subsequent corner came to nothing. It was an explosive start to the game, one that, give-or-take a few more minutes, the boys from Wyncote would find to their liking. By the eighth there'd been plenty of probing by both sides - as you do - but then suddenly the orange-shirted visitors advanced down their right flank - actually on the right sideline, right in front of their substitutes - and nearby Maghull sorts claimed the ball had gone out of play and stopped; it hadn't. Richy Schofield, in possession, carried on, slipped in Dave Cunningham not far from the opposition penalty area, and he ran on into it and fired low past the advancing #1. Showing the same 'not our fault' attitude that they would double down on later in the afternoon, the men in yellow, unimpressed with the Convocation bench's (correct) lack of a flag, claimed foul play.
Convocation had turned up in L31 with fifteen players at their disposal, and began the game in what appeared to be a 4-5-1 formation, with Shaun Williams, Phil Livingstone, Dave Bastow and Paul Fairclough in the rearguard quartet ahead of Livingstone (S). Ahead of them Cunningham and Schofield manned the flanks (in theory - you know), left and right respectively, with Redmond, Ian Poole and Dave Byrne in between, and Paul Harper was the not-so-lone-in-reality forward ahead of them. There were four substitutes, Captain Andy McLaren amongst them.
It would be unfair to suggest that the frenzied start was a bit of a false dawn, as even at its least dramatic the game never lacked entertainment, but for the ten minutes after Convo took the lead there was little to report in the manner of goal scoring potential. That all changed when Cunningham fired a low shot into the home side's side netting that the 'keeper - who was exceptionally nonchalant all afternoon - did little to suggest he was worried about.
Shortly after what should have been the midpoint of the half though, there wasn't much he could have done when Convocation doubled their lead. A Livingstone goal kick reached Redmond on the halfway line and he took off on a diagonal run in possession, riding challenges that suggested he would have been a natural on Gladiators back in the day, before running into the Maghull penalty area and smashing a shot into the top corner of the goal that left Mr Nonchalant completely motionless. You didn't need Frank Carson to tell you that the goal was a cracker.
Immediately, Convo made a pair of changes, with Sam Woodcock going on in place of Bastow (Williams moved into the centre of defence), and Chris McNally - returning to the scene of his rabona infamy of last season - replacing Cunningham in a straight swap.
Woodcock, and Fairclough on the opposite side of the back line, had little to do throughout what remained of the half except stay level in order to play the offside trap, which they both did without fault, superbly marshalled by Williams and particularly Livingstone (P) inside them; the two centre backs looked as if they'd played with each other for years - what a sight! Up front Harper wasn't really getting into the game, other than to keep the Maghull defence on its toes with his mere presence, which allowed deeper players in orange to benefit - Byrne and Poole's industry was of the quiet (but certainly not invaluable) variety, while Redmond looked a constant (and growing) menace, his eye-catching performance eclipsing his more restrained midfield colleagues.
It shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who's lived in Britain on Bomby Night (or at least, the day before) to learn that it was bloody chilly, and those on the Convo sideline could only look on enviously at the regular trains, passing on an embankment looming over the pitch, and the relative warmth of those inside. Their charges on the pitch though, showed no sign of being bothered by the frigidity and were humming like a finely-tuned barbershop quartet; Maghull, on the other hand, appeared to be playing from memory, and more interestingly were starting to lose it with each other.
Eight minutes before what would turn out to be half time Harper ambled off - saying he was knackered and needed a breather - and was replaced by Cunningham, who would be instrumental in the visitors claiming their third, moments before the interval. In what was a terrible call by the referee, Schofield was pulled up for offside when trying to get onto the end of a lovely pass from midfield, and the Maghull 'keeper trotted out of his goal to take the resultant free kick himself; he was about ten strides outside the corner of his penalty area, not the place for a spot of defensive muck-aboutery. He played it to a colleague in the middle of his own half who was immediately closed down and dispossessed by the reintroduced Convo forward [Cunningham], who then knocked the ball to the nearby Redmond, and from thirty yards out he struck a low shot that eventually bobbled/trickled into the unmanned nets.
Convo were in Dreamland, Maghull Slumberland, and within sixty seconds of the restart the ref blew for half time, having played forty-three minutes (no one knew whether it was supposed to be forty or forty-five).
In a way it is an unenviable position to be in, being well ahead at half time of a team pretty much everyone expected to win, because you can only assume that they can't be so poor again once the game restarts, but McLaren assured his charges that if they went back out and put in the same performance they could have no regrets at the end, whatever subsequently happened. He also made two changes for the resumption, sending Gaz Martin on in a straight swap with Fairclough, and reintroducing Bastow in centre midfield, for Poole.
It didn't take long for Martin to have an impact on proceedings. Five minutes after the restart the home side played a number of nice one-twos to eventually wriggle through into their guests' area, but the player with the final touch got his angles slightly askew and fired low but just wide of the target. Moments after that, with Maghull on another attack, the new Convocation right-back (accidentally?) clipped the heels of an opponent just outside the corner of the eighteen-yard box and sent him tumbling to the ground - this did not go down well with the man in yellow, who sprung up like a jack-in-the-box and threw his hands up in the direction of his adversary's face; he can be grateful that the Irishman did not retaliate, and that the referee was his mate, because a proper official would surely have sent him off for violent conduct. The subsequent free kick then came to nothing.
In perfect examples of a bad workman blaming his tools, the hosts had begun regularly complaining about the ball being flat - remember, they were the home team - but even though it was the same for both sides Convo didn't appear to be having too many problems with it. Redmond slipped Cunningham through with another lovely pass at one point, but instead of having a crack on the edge of the Maghull 'D' the forward appeared to be trying to get possession onto a favoured foot and was pushed wide of the target to a much less-favourable shooting position, and his subsequent effort was befittingly poor; not long after that he began almost teasing the yellow-shirted defence by playing one-ones with himself on the halfway line.
The home side continued to find fault with the car rather than the driver, but rather more worryingly they had started to lose it and were getting a little nasty, and there were concerns on the Convo bench that someone in orange might end up getting hurt. With a little over a quarter-of-an-hour of the half having been played though, they went the closest they'd gone to scoring up to that point, moments after McNally had curled a shot over their crossbar from a short distance outside the area. One of their men gained possession out on the wing and smashed a long-range effort against the Convocation horizontal, from where the ball bounced down and out to another man in yellow, running in, who inexplicably sliced across the face of the goal. There then followed a mad scramble in the six-yard box until eventually the danger was cleared by the visitors.
They had another opportunity to score not long after that when they benefited from Williams slicing an attempted clearance to set up one of their men who'd run in, but he could only fire over the crossbar. McNally, who'd been down injured while that previous move had unfolded (and who had earlier in the game been described as "a spot-the-ball-setter's wet dream" due to his unorthodox playing style) was subbed off as the (theoretical) midpoint of the half neared, with Poole returning in his place (Bastow moved back into defence, Williams shifted back out to left back, and Woodcock pushed up onto the wing) and within two minutes the former First Team captain must have felt a little pleased for himself from the sideline as Maghull finally pulled a goal back with a near-post glancing header at a corner; the marking was very poor.
Having played about twenty minutes, Martin decided he'd had enough and was replaced at right back by Fairclough; he rejoined a rearguard that was suddenly under increasing pressure, although Bastow and Livingstone (P) at its heart looked rock solid. In midfield, Redmond, Byrne and Poole were doing their bit to try and alleviate the stress, although sloppy passes occasionally undid some of their good work, while Woodcock on the flank was much more involved having been pushed forward.
Livingstone (P) had to call it a day with what would turn out to be seventeen minutes remaining, a dead knee he'd been trying to run off since the first half doing for him; McLaren went on in his place, at left back, while Williams - who seemed to getting repositioned every time the ball went dead - moved back inside to centre back. Maghull's in-game shithousery took a new turn at about that time as well, as it became obvious that their players were hurling themselves to the ground whenever they got near the Convo penalty area; they didn't need to be so desperate mind, as Williams was suddenly having a bit of a 'mare and, upon slicing another clearance and then being dispossessed in the 'D', a man in yellow was sent through, although he fired wide from about twelve yards out.
The misfiring defender was much more his usual self not long after that though, when he executed an excellent tackle (from behind) inside his own eighteen-yard box to dispossess an opponent, a tackle that had to be perfect to prevent him giving away a penalty - that really would've set the cat amongst the pigeons had it happened. How much the referee was itching to award one will never be known, but his less-than-impartial colours were soon evident when he disallowed a thoroughly legitimate Redmond goal (which would have been his hat trick) for offside with about five minutes remaining. Not following their hosts' lead, the Convo players took the slight on the (collective) chin.
After that, Maghull's aggro-ometer began giving off some rather worrying readings as they first of all had a kick off amongst themselves on the sideline, and then, in the dying moments of the game when Convocation attempted to catch them out on the break their 'keeper flew out of his goal almost to the halfway line and quite deliberately handled the ball as Cunningham attempted to dink it past him and score a fourth; for that - surprise, surprise - the glover didn't even receive a yellow card, although he did get involved in a bit of a spat with his Convo adversary and they had to be split up. When the final whistle went after forty-two second-half minutes the two participated in another pub-carpark-infused carry on and had to be separated again.
It might be a little mean to suggest that the Maghull players were bad losers as they were perfectly hospitable when everyone retired to the cricket club for a pint and some curry and rice, but they did seem to have a sort of football entitlement about them that spoke volumes; presumably, not losing for a year-an-a-half will do that to you. It would also be unfair to suggest that the result was a consequence of them having an off day, because Convocation were excellent on Saturday, especially in the first half when their hosts had no answer to their inventiveness and energy.
The Seconds are a team that is forever landing on the ladder or the snake, and never any of those dull squares in between, and after this performance it would be just like them to go and get a pasting of a team of cloggers in their next outing. With a couple of games remaining there's still a chance of them finishing in the top two in their group and thus qualifying for the cup semi finals (rather than one of the lesser competitions) - for that to happen though, they must continue to eat the elephant one bite at a time.
Man Of The Match: Livingstone (P) had a fine game at the heart of the defence, while Redmond was unfortunate that the referee deprived him of a hat trick, and he did score the goal of the game. Cunningham just edges it this week though, as he was a massive pain in the butt for the Maghull defence for the entirety of his time of the pitch, he scored and got an assist, and he managed to get under the skin of Mr Cool in the opposition nets.
Convocation (4-5-1): Livingstone S; Williams Sh, Livingstone P, Bastow, Fairclough; Cunningham, Redmond, Poole I, Byrne, Schofield R; Harper P; Subs: Woodcock, McNally, Martin, McLaren
