Congleton
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Re: Congleton
It's more likely we will get an opponent from the National League North or South (depending on which geographical zone we are placed into).
There are 48 National League entrants in the next round, and only 31 potential opponents who progress from this round.
There are 48 National League entrants in the next round, and only 31 potential opponents who progress from this round.
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Re: Congleton
Alvechurch away then 

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Re: Congleton
Kind of agree about the first half, although I think after the 3rd goal, we probably dropped the tempo a bit. We controlled it.Really enjoyed yesterday. Very positive all round.Rich wrote: ↑26 Oct 2024, 19:42Thought we played better first half with no goals than 4 in the second.
Good entertaining open games with the ball staying on the floor more often.
Credit to Congleton for coming and giving it a good go. Certainly gave Platty some work to do.
Interesting that Yussuf not getting any game time. Think he just there these days to keep the bench warm and last resort should ma striker get injured.
Would like to add it was good to see some vocal away fans for a change but is the any need for the foul mouthed responses to their singing.![]()
Lets keep it light hearted and have some good friendly banter![]()
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Re: Congleton
Still early days but we scored 13 goals in the first 11 matches this season, we've hit 11 in the last 4, hopefully can keep that up, no surprise with the new bloke up top comparatively........ I might go to Lowestoft now.......
- YeltzDoc
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Re: Congleton
Listen, interview with, listen, Russ here.
Listen, watch.
Listen, watch.
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Re: Congleton
Cracking performance and result.
- YeltzDoc
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Re: Congleton
And as a coda to the Trophy discussion, for now, I wrote a longer piece for CripCrap for last Saturday's programme.
As a combination of nostalgia for those wot remember and the usual self-serving egomania, I've reproduced below.
Trophy, or Not Trophy?
When Kiddy won the FA Trophy in 1987, it was to the great amusement of Yeltzmen everywhere when pub bores commented that it was the cup, “that Halesowen had won twice”. Hohohohohohoho.
But very no.
Given that we can realistically claim Wembley as, “The Grove, South”, boy, did we suck in the Trophy. It took us six attempts to get past the 1QR post-Vase, and only then due to a W/O vs the only WMRL side to be immortalised in a Prefab Sprout song, Alvechurch.
But no, (again) I hear the pedants revolt – we sucked long before this! A further six attempts in the early-70s, resulting in a solitary win against defunct erstwhile-powerhouse, Brierley Hill Alliance. Ken and LLL are probably amongst the very few with any memories of these early forays – we were probably prioritising the Watney’s Cup and the Birmingham Senior Teapot back in those darkest of days.
However. How about a great tale of a multi-coach away-trip against a club with non-league and league successes and a turbulent past?
No, not the Buzz at Barnet. Nor Braddy PA put to the sword or social-media tyrant Jamie Molyneaux at Halifax.
But a cross-border raid in 1995….
We’d reserved half of Harris’s, even my old man fancied it, and a day out at the Southernmost outpost of “Chilly-Jock-o-Land®” – (the late Jimmy Greaves’s description, when mildly ribbing The Saint with a bit of casual racism) was on the cards.
A trip to Gretna, not for anvil-based troths, but for the greatest English invasion and slaughter since Culloden.
What Greavesy lacked in tact, was compensated for by his meteorological prescience and we were undone by the only sort of snowflake that was around in the 90s.
A quick rearrange and we were set for the Thursday. Well, spouses would need to be placated, work jibbed-off and lectures avoided (other than from the aforementioned other halves).
But a midge remained in the ointment. Pre-internet, pre-mobile phone, pre-mium chance for a 500 mile misstep, as was made by Derek Dudley’s folks for the initial postponement, according to folklore at least (thus undoubtedly wrong).
So, onto the 49p per min, “Live as it happens, from The Grove” in a vain attempt to confirm. But bugger it, some of us needed to be at Euston by lunchtime to be ok for ko. Fingers were crossed and ticket clerks confused – “Day Return?” Yep.
We’ve done longer for mid-weeks, Dover is further, and Lowestoft will be better reached via CPH but never let the facts spoil a good story.
Hours mate. No buffet car, roadworks at Thelwall and a two-hour change in Carlisle but whither the spirit of Edward Longshanks, onwards.
Nobody in the history of humankind has been more happy to see a football coach. Lights were on and so was the match. The redoubtable Yeltz_Bear’s stats tell me that 175 (fool)hardy souls were present, at least one of whom greeted yours-truly with a resounding, “What the f… are you doing here”. Charming, but accurate, and a question for us all.
Football is no respecter of effort and we were soon 1-0 down. A combination of introspection re- life-choices and barely-subdued depressed rage were the order of the evening.
But, whilst we didn’t have a “Hammer” of The Scots, we did have that most oft-neglected domestic tool, a Mop. And up he cropped to pinch a goal and the draw.
We should pause momentarily in this self-indulgent nostalgia-fest to tip a cap to Evran. Again, cheers Y_B, for the info that he got 106 goals in 172 starts across several spells.
Imagine what he could have achieved if he wasn’t quite so, err, relaxed.
But, back to the “plot”. Like the retreat from Stalingrad, we bedraggled few headed home. Another two hours on a bench in Carlise station for moi, and a stop at every single service station on the way back home for a coffee for the Sevilla branch.
Straight off the overnight sleeper into a lecture for some, and a shower and a day hiding in the stockroom for Bigus.
Surely to cap the narrative arc, we won the replay? Actually, yes.
Stuffed the old foe of Atherstone on the Saturday, (Kim Green must have been on holiday) and our Caledonian Cousins had to make the counter-trip the following Monday.
A much healthier 724, and goals from No Comparison, Paul, the much under-rated Ian Brown and the ironically monikered Shane Abell, saw us rout the invading Celts and send them homeward, tae think again.
So, was a Wembley return on the cards? Surely it was our birthright? Nope, gubbed by R&D 6-1 in the 3rd round. Maybe we’d do better in the second set. Or not.
There is another story of intrigue against former league sides of course, but more of the Doncaster games in 99/00 in due course.
At least it wasn’t Redditch.
YeltzDoc.
As a combination of nostalgia for those wot remember and the usual self-serving egomania, I've reproduced below.
Trophy, or Not Trophy?
When Kiddy won the FA Trophy in 1987, it was to the great amusement of Yeltzmen everywhere when pub bores commented that it was the cup, “that Halesowen had won twice”. Hohohohohohoho.
But very no.
Given that we can realistically claim Wembley as, “The Grove, South”, boy, did we suck in the Trophy. It took us six attempts to get past the 1QR post-Vase, and only then due to a W/O vs the only WMRL side to be immortalised in a Prefab Sprout song, Alvechurch.
But no, (again) I hear the pedants revolt – we sucked long before this! A further six attempts in the early-70s, resulting in a solitary win against defunct erstwhile-powerhouse, Brierley Hill Alliance. Ken and LLL are probably amongst the very few with any memories of these early forays – we were probably prioritising the Watney’s Cup and the Birmingham Senior Teapot back in those darkest of days.
However. How about a great tale of a multi-coach away-trip against a club with non-league and league successes and a turbulent past?
No, not the Buzz at Barnet. Nor Braddy PA put to the sword or social-media tyrant Jamie Molyneaux at Halifax.
But a cross-border raid in 1995….
We’d reserved half of Harris’s, even my old man fancied it, and a day out at the Southernmost outpost of “Chilly-Jock-o-Land®” – (the late Jimmy Greaves’s description, when mildly ribbing The Saint with a bit of casual racism) was on the cards.
A trip to Gretna, not for anvil-based troths, but for the greatest English invasion and slaughter since Culloden.
What Greavesy lacked in tact, was compensated for by his meteorological prescience and we were undone by the only sort of snowflake that was around in the 90s.
A quick rearrange and we were set for the Thursday. Well, spouses would need to be placated, work jibbed-off and lectures avoided (other than from the aforementioned other halves).
But a midge remained in the ointment. Pre-internet, pre-mobile phone, pre-mium chance for a 500 mile misstep, as was made by Derek Dudley’s folks for the initial postponement, according to folklore at least (thus undoubtedly wrong).
So, onto the 49p per min, “Live as it happens, from The Grove” in a vain attempt to confirm. But bugger it, some of us needed to be at Euston by lunchtime to be ok for ko. Fingers were crossed and ticket clerks confused – “Day Return?” Yep.
We’ve done longer for mid-weeks, Dover is further, and Lowestoft will be better reached via CPH but never let the facts spoil a good story.
Hours mate. No buffet car, roadworks at Thelwall and a two-hour change in Carlisle but whither the spirit of Edward Longshanks, onwards.
Nobody in the history of humankind has been more happy to see a football coach. Lights were on and so was the match. The redoubtable Yeltz_Bear’s stats tell me that 175 (fool)hardy souls were present, at least one of whom greeted yours-truly with a resounding, “What the f… are you doing here”. Charming, but accurate, and a question for us all.
Football is no respecter of effort and we were soon 1-0 down. A combination of introspection re- life-choices and barely-subdued depressed rage were the order of the evening.
But, whilst we didn’t have a “Hammer” of The Scots, we did have that most oft-neglected domestic tool, a Mop. And up he cropped to pinch a goal and the draw.
We should pause momentarily in this self-indulgent nostalgia-fest to tip a cap to Evran. Again, cheers Y_B, for the info that he got 106 goals in 172 starts across several spells.
Imagine what he could have achieved if he wasn’t quite so, err, relaxed.
But, back to the “plot”. Like the retreat from Stalingrad, we bedraggled few headed home. Another two hours on a bench in Carlise station for moi, and a stop at every single service station on the way back home for a coffee for the Sevilla branch.
Straight off the overnight sleeper into a lecture for some, and a shower and a day hiding in the stockroom for Bigus.
Surely to cap the narrative arc, we won the replay? Actually, yes.
Stuffed the old foe of Atherstone on the Saturday, (Kim Green must have been on holiday) and our Caledonian Cousins had to make the counter-trip the following Monday.
A much healthier 724, and goals from No Comparison, Paul, the much under-rated Ian Brown and the ironically monikered Shane Abell, saw us rout the invading Celts and send them homeward, tae think again.
So, was a Wembley return on the cards? Surely it was our birthright? Nope, gubbed by R&D 6-1 in the 3rd round. Maybe we’d do better in the second set. Or not.
There is another story of intrigue against former league sides of course, but more of the Doncaster games in 99/00 in due course.
At least it wasn’t Redditch.
YeltzDoc.
- andy
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Re: Congleton
A great recount of of one of my favourite awaydays! Though I can't exactly remember my response to your club house entry, I believe I was the one that greeted you so eloquently. 15 of us and if memory serves I think about half of them turned up in El Seanos tiny car.
Proud owner of FOUR Georges





- YeltzDoc
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Re: Congleton
Yep. It was you. 
I’d guess the roll call of those present as paying punters was -
Me
You
Rog
Dave
El Seano
Big Nige
Little Rich
Big Rich
Chemo
Kev
Dot
June
A few missing, HH? Sprout? and the Directors of Big Ron, Old Git and others.
I’d guess the roll call of those present as paying punters was -
Me
You
Rog
Dave
El Seano
Big Nige
Little Rich
Big Rich
Chemo
Kev
Dot
June
A few missing, HH? Sprout? and the Directors of Big Ron, Old Git and others.
- GreySquirrel
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