Last Gasp Header Wards Off Defeat.
Larkhall 1-1 Mousehole
There has been a major transformation at Larkhall since we visited last season. New floodlights, a spanking new stand and last but not least a beautiful 3g pitch. Plastic pitches are not to everyone’s taste, don’t mention Bristol Cleeve, but this one is as close to playing on real grass on the first day of the season as you can get. This set the scene for what should have been a great display of football.
Sadly the weather doesn’t care what your plans are and in spite of the pitch being protected somewhat from the worst of it this was not a day for pretty football. The wind and rain were hurtling in from the south. The conditions made it tough for both sides with Mousehole having the better of the earlier exchanges. A front two of Hayden Turner and Tim Nixon were finding space and getting shots off without really threatening.
The tide seemed to turn for no apparent reason after about twenty-five minutes. The home side had had no shots up to that point and had not been able to harness the advantage of the wind at their backs but suddenly they realised that they needed a lead before facing the wind in the second half. On two or three occasions they came very close but their shots were either blocked or sliced wide.
With half time approaching Mousehole clearly felt that being level at the break was almost like being ahead. They pushed forward with a long ball out to the right for Turner to chase. He arrived at the same time as the defender for a fifty fifty challenge but the linesman felt that our hitman had committed a foul. Turner disagreed in no uncertain terms and when this was reported to the referee he received a second yellow. It seemed a harsh decision and was certainly out of character but the interval came with us down to ten!
The good news was the score; nil nil. With the wind at our backs the game proved to be just as even in the second half with the casual observer probably not noticing that we were down a man. Larkhall did start to turn the screw and Ollie Chenoweth made a fabulous save with a quarter of the game left pushing a goal bound shut onto the post. Mousehole went straight up the other end and Nixon nearly scored.
It was looking like first goal wins as the clock wound down and the bad news for the visitors was that the goal went Larkhall’s way. Out on the left-wing Alexander Lambert found some space and looked up. Was it a cross? Was it a shot? He’ll claim the latter, your reporter claims the former. It doesn’t matter because the ball looped over Ollie’s head and he could only watch as the wind helped the ball to fly and whack the far post.
We’ve not had much luck with goal frames lately so how would it be here? Of course, it went the wrong way and landed in the goal. The home crowd were jubilant, the home players were a little relieved to have pushed their advantage. The visitors could see a six-hour journey home with another empty feeling.
Hold on though! Shortly after the goal Ross Derham and the recently returned-from-the-States Mark Goldsworthy were thrown on to join James Ward. Where we had previously had our backs to the wall we now started getting forward. Yes, we were a little open to the counter attack but needs must and we had to go for it.
As the clock struck ninety minutes Mousehole won a corner. It’s not a secret that our success from corners is not exactly at the level of Arsenal or Everton so we could forgive the Seagulls in the stand for not expecting what happened next.
Before we get to that though we need to give credit to Tim Nixon for winning the corner. He chased a long ball from Max which looked impossible to reach before it went out. Not only did he reach it, he hooked his foot round it to win the corner. Totally unselfish running after a lost cause. That summed up our spirit.
Captain Calver jogged over to the right corner and raised his hand. Your reporter couldn’t remember if that signalled a whip into the box or a slick passing movement on the edge. He hoped for the latter and was rewarded when Calver floated it on the wind beyond the keeper’s reach, over Max’s head and into space at the far post. As the ball started its descent there was no one there. Was this going to be another lost chance. The ball dropped slowly out of leaden skies and then, as if from nowhere, James Wardy Ward arrived with his forehead of granite. If he was Scottish he’d drink Irn Bru and bend steel girders for fun. He rose above a watching defence and walloped the ball past the keeper. The sonic boom from his contact sent shockwaves through the crowd as the visiting bench and travelling fans leapt for joy. None leapt higher than the scorer had but it was a moment sheer joy on a wet and windy day.
Another away point leaves Mousehole level on points with the last play-off place and only three behind third place. Behind Yate the top of the table is as tight as that lid on the jam jar you’ve not tried to open since August. And so we move on to Didcot and the great shave.
