Dark afternoons

In recent years, a trip to Mossley has often involved a do. There was Flat Cap Day (long before I met Mr Matt, as he is known to his pupils in Slovakia, even though I thought they abandoned eastern name order on ceasing to be part of Hungary after the First World War), the evening with our German guests, and Dr Phil's 30th birthday. There was no such occasion this year, so I took the latest train to get me to the game on time. I did not realise Dr James was doing the same, meeting him when we alighted for our connection at Manchester "Victorior".

On arrival, we went straight to the ground. I made my usual observation about the hill being a mere bagatelle compared with Pitchfont Lane in Limpsfield, although it is 30 years since I ran up the latter, and getting on for 15 since I walked up. We were in time to watch the players warming up, although we had not tried dropping them at the bottom of the hill and getting them warm by making their own way to the top, but as the afternoon transpired, it would probably not have worked out much worse if we had.

This was the darkest afternoon (with the earliest sunset, at 3.53pm) of the season. With low cloud too, the floodlights were turned on at kick off. Knowing the best light would still be in the first half, I worked across the ground, spending a third of the time on one side of the pitch,

Rob Doran

a third behind the goal,

Danny Flood

and a third on the far side.

Michael Simpson

Whilst there was plenty of forward movement, it was in vain, as the important action took place at the other end, with Mossley looking dangerous on every attack. Michael Fish proved something of a storm (but definitely not a hurricane), scoring four goals in the hosts' five without reply in the first half.

Moving to the Lancashire end at half time, we found a couple of floodlight bulbs out, which left dark areas in unexpected places, and the back lighting from the white wall at the Yorkshire end more severe than usual.

Bram Johnstone

We feared what Mossley might be able to do when they scored again a couple of minutes from the restart, although their attack was blunted after Michael Fish left the field for a well earned rest a few minutes later.

We were still looking for goals, with the reliable James Edgar scoring just after the hour.

James Edgar

The hosts restored their advantage a quarter of an hour later, quickly met with a reply from Dominic Marie.

Dominic Marie

Had the second half been a stand alone game, it would have been a reasonable performance, but it was to no effect, as the damage was well and truly done in the first.

The importance of pursuing goals, even when the result is in no doubt, was made clear in the league table. We have gone from first place at the beginning of September to occupying a relegation position on goal difference. It is frighteningly tight this year, with eight points separating us from Bamber Bridge in tenth place, so every goal matters, for goals scored, not just goal difference.

Returning to the station, we found clouds of smoke pouring out of the shelter, as a group of users were smoking electronic cigarettes (steaming might be an appropriate description, as they looked like they were that as well). With our train delayed by the Rail Ale Trail attracting lager louts up the line, Realtime Trains was our friend, as we could see our connecting train was still behind it. At Stalybridge, I treated James to a virtuoso display of how anorak level knowledge of rolling stock and the layout of stations up the line helps you work out where to bag a seat - we headed to the back of the train, whilst everyone else made for the more crowded front.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen on the club website here, and on Google Photos here.

Final score: Mossley 7 Prescot Cables 2 (Edgar, Marie)