Stalybridge Celtic 2-6 Bury, Thursday 1st January 2026

Stalybridge Celtic 2-6 Bury, Northern Premier League West, Bower Fold, att. 2,114

It’s New Year’s Day. Do I go and see my own team at Wigan, on my lonesome cos nobody else wants to go, or jump on a train 3 stops and see a local non-league derby with my mate Kev? Well, my own team have been pretty poor of late, but Wigan’s stadium (whatever it’s called this week) isn’t my favourite. Empty, devoid of atmosphere, a long walk from town. And I’ve been waiting for my chance to visit Stalybridge, by train, so the ales can flow. Plus it’s Big Team Bury. Bound to be lively.

I get off at the station and meet Kev. Did I imagine the first 5 or 6 buildings outside the station being pubs? Some are not even closed down, and a couple are even open now. So we start off with a crap lager in some downtrodden place I forget the name of. Even the Guinness is off, it’s that downtrodden. (Not a problem for me, it’s undrinkable.)

The two places we most fancied a drink in haven’t opened today, which is their loss. So we call in at the Wetherspoons to find it full of Bury. No seats for the middle aged (us) so we go outside in Winter. But Kev does spot that Wetherspoons now have a Top Trumps on sale (proceeds to charidee). They’ve sold out, but he’s on the case next day at his local ‘spoons. Good man.

Bower Fold is quite a walk from the station, but there’s another couple of pubs on the way up, but we save them for later. We’ve a social club to put some money behind the bar thereof. I’ve got digital match tickets (home end) as I was given the impression tickets had to be bought by midday. Thus, I’m disappointed to find I could have had a paper version in my grubby paws had I bought at the ground. Nevermind. Programme bought, we’re in. Where’s the social club?

We entered at one corner. A large terrace (the ground holds 6,500...’allegedly’ as the joke goes) is on our right, and the social club on our left. The queues are crazy. Despite arriving early, I’m sure the teams must be out by now. I leave Kev in the queue – hey, it’s his round – and step outside. The game has already kicked off and Bury have a free kick on the edge of the box at the far end, in front of their own support. Straight over the wall and into the net, the first touch I’ve seen. Several minutes pass before Kev makes his entrance. Much appreciated.

We head to the terrace, but there’s some yoof with a drum. Let’s not stand there. We perch on the edge of the terrace, our beers perched on the crush barriers. (Out of interest, when is a crush barrier not a crush barrier?) Bury run riot and, despite the two sides being in a play-off battle, go four up after 21 minutes. This is harsh on Celtic, who miss chances of their own. Half-time is 0-4 and could easily be 3-4.

We let the half time rush die down, then go get a another beer before returning to the stand opposite the social club. Being a further walk, it’s less populated than the Main Stand adjacent to the social club, but probably a better view, as the front portion is already high up off the ground. How many will Bury score this half?

The answer is ‘only two’, with a pair for Celtic too. Actually, why are Celtic playing in BLUE? I thought they played in green and white hoops? Isn’t that the POINT? (Later, I see an older home fan with a green and white scarf.) But the stands are painted blue, so maybe they’ve had those colours for a while. It’s been an entertaining game and the Bury fans are certainly happy with today in a packed away end. The Celtic programme congratulates themselves being more than half the 2,000+ crowd at neighbours Mossley on Boxing Day (nil nil) but today the boot is on the other foot.

The drinking isn’t over though. We call in at the second pub on the left and end up chatting to a Celtic sponsor. He’s carrying a small pile of programmes (to hand out willy-nilly) and he kindly gives me one. What had I done with mine? Musta lost it somewhere. I definitely bought one. Then another beer near the station...that was a nice pub too. So nice I cut it too fine with my train and got to the platform as it shut its doors. I rang Kev. ‘You’ve missed your train haven’t you?’ ‘Fancy another pint?’

Happy New Year!

The Damage
£12 ent
£2.50 prog
£4.60 beer x 2
£11.70 train
= £35.40

Leek Town 0-1 Warrington Rylands, Tuesday 15th October 2024

Leek Town 0-1 Warrington Rylands, Northern Premier League Premier Division, F. Ball Community Stadium (Harrison Park), att. 421

There was limited choice locally for me tonite. I could have made my debut at local side Golcar, but it was only a league cup game. There were a few games Liverpool way, or even Bamber Bridge, but I was up the latter’s way last Satdy, and I’m due in Blackpool this Satdy coming. You can have too much of a bad thing. But, looking slightly further afield, Leek Town were at home in the Northern Premier. It’s still October, I’ll have an hour of daylight meandering through the Peak District, admiring the views. Yes, let’s do that, even if it is an hour and half.

As I hit Derbyshire, the fog came in and it never left. So much for views. I reached Glossop, then Buxton. Then a closed road. The main road to Leek cut off for roadworks. Fine. I follow the DIVERSION signs...which lead me to the exact part of the road that’s closed. (The two cars ahead, both obviously having the same problem, stop to ask the workmen WTF is going on.) My satnav is no help either, asking me if the road is still closed. What? The closed road you’d failed to tell me about in the first place?

There is then a harrowing few miles through thick mist, visibility only a few yards, up single track roads, knowing at any minute another vehicle will come out of the mist coming the other way. Far too late to change my mind now, I’m invested. I eventually reach a mainish road and make it to Leek, thankfully free of fog. Satnav now does the easy bit and finds me the ground, and I park 2 minutes on down Macclesfield Road. It’s taken me over 2 hours.

The turnstiles are down a lane, past the Main Stand. (I discover there are more turnstiles on the opposite side of the ground, but who knows when these were last used.) The Main Stand isn’t particularly easy on the eye, but it’s tall, has a large paddock in front and houses over 600 seats. Oddly, it runs from the halfway line to the byeline. I buy a programme and get the last teamsheet – should be worth something in future, that – before doubling back along the paddock, to the social club. There’s quite a few beers on, all big names, but I spy Krombacher and elect for that. An improvement on that lager with the Spanish name that isn’t from Spain. Unfortunately the barrel needs changing, so while the pipe spurts out froth, I miss the teams coming out. Boooo.

I am also hungry, and the snack bar has a better than average choice. I plump for pie and peas and walk around the pitch to stand near the corner flag. There may be only two steps, but this stand is covered and a couple of metres back. Much of the home support is behind this goal, Leek kicking this way first half. It’s a plastic pitch, which is of no advantage to the home side, as Leek have won one and lost 5 league games thus far. Indeed, hosting bottom of the table Warrington Rylands, they make it 6 defeats in 7, losing nil-one and having a penalty saved to boot.

Pie eaten, I wander round the pitch, beer in hand. Another small cover runs most of the length of the touchline, while a couple of steps level with the edge of the penalty area provides a nice little pew to watch the teams struggle. Neither team are especially great passers, but the plastic pitch removes any jeopardy. Rylands win it with a scrambled effort just after half-time. Ben Hardcastle is credited, though it looked an own goal to me, as the defender fell over himself trying to clear. The kind of goal that this kind of game deserved.

Thereafter, Leek laid siege to Warrington’s half, if not their goal. Rylands retreated, got men behind the ball, and Leek had no idea how to break it down. Their one chance was the penalty, given when a header then unintentionally came off a defender’s arm while his back was to the attacker. Harsh, but ‘the silhouette’ did for him. A low effort was saved by the keeper, and that was about it, save for me enjoying the last 20 or so minutes from the comfort of the stand. As I walked out, I could hear discussion among the 10 or so away fans as to who’d be washing the kit this week. ‘I can’t. I’m away.’ Likely story.

Oh, and I didn’t go back over the Peaks. Drove through Macc (whose floodlights were still on from their game) and the edge of Manchester. Much less hair-raising.

The Damage:
£12 ent
£3 prog
£3.50 pie and peas
£5 Krombacher (pint of)
= £23.50

Ashton United 0-2 Macclesfield, Tuesday 26th March 2024

Ashton United 0-2 Macclesfield, Northern Premier League Premier Division, Hurst Cross, att. 764

With just over a month to go before the end of the season, things are hotting up in the Northern Premier League (Premier Division). Whilst runaway leaders Radcliffe look nailed on for the one automatic promotion berth, the play-off places are far from decided. From nowhere, Ashton United, 4 successive wins, are eagerly poised for a challenge. Fresh from a 5-2 demolition of Radcliffe on the leader’s home turf, tonite sees a crucial clash at Hurst Cross against the division’s most high-profile members, Macclesfield, one place and 4 points above them the last play-off place.

I cross the Pennines and ask Darlo Kev if he’s coming out to play. United are close enough to be walkable from his house and it’d make a nice change from trying to park in a back street somewhere. We arrive in plenty of time for a pint. The clubhouse, ‘The Cross Bar’...Hurst Cross...see what they did there?...is very smart indeed. In fact, it’s a lot better than many pubs I’ve visited and different class to town neighbours Curzon’s portacabin. We are lucky enough to grab the final table and admire some old (1960s) Ashton programmes, framed on the wall.

The bar is on the right as you enter the turnstiles. To the left is the main stand, modern in look yet full of stanchions. It can’t be more than 25 yards long. Then comes some terracing, which sweeps round the rest of the ground, between 4 and 8 steps deep. The other 3 sides all have cover, to a varying degree. To the left, a small white structure at the top of the steps, to the right, what looks like one long bike shed. There’s no rain, so everyone’s out in the open. The far touchline has a cover along most of it, and we take a pew here 2nd half.

1st half, we’re mostly to the left of the away dugout. The odd fan comes up and says hello to the coach. Lovely. With Macc kicking towards this end, 1st half, the vast majority of their support has congregated down here. It’s Ashton’s 2nd highest crowd of the season (after a Boxing Day clash with FC United of Manchester) and probably around half are Macclesfield. No Robbie Savage, tonite, I overheard in the social club. His son’s been drafted into the Wales squad for a crucial Euros qualifier Poland (they lost on pens). According to the same source, former England cricket captain Michael Vaughan is here though. ‘He was born in Lancashire, wasn’t he?’ says Kev. Was he? I dunno.

The pitch down by our side is a thing of beauty. Churned up mud, it mirrors some of the farmers’ fields at present. It looks hazardous, but Macc aren’t bothered and there’s plenty of play in this corner as Macc take control. A ball is lofted over from this wing, the centre halves underestimate its length and it’s sidefooted home on the backpost. Macclesfield fans take potshots at the keeper, possibly cos he’s within hearing distance, rather than any actual blame, though it works as, unnerved, his kicking becomes unsure. Just after the half hour, the Silkmen grab a 2nd, as Sam Perry beats 2 players, cuts inside and hits it low from 20 yards. At 22 and having played 30 games for Walsall, he’s probably playing below his ability (and hopefully being handsomely remunerated for it). Macclesfield currently average 3,117, nearly twice as high as 2nd played FCUM.

The Silkmen are in total control and I see no way back for Ashton. But hang on…we’re 60 or so minutes in and the Macc keeper comes sprinting out of his area. There’s no way he’s getting to the ball first and he takes out the Ashton forward in spectacular style. A red is brandished and, with no keeper on the bench, one of Macc’s smallest players takes the gloves. Game on. Or rather, that should’ve been game on. What follows is half an hour of anti climax as Ashton overhit balls and put absolutely no pressure on a keeper who obviously has no idea what he’s doing, other than diving on the ball once it’s ran through to him, a la Jordan Pickford. The one ‘shot’ he saves is an overhit cross which lands on his chest. In a game they needed to win, Ashton only have themselves to blame for not performing. Still, 5th placed Hyde are only 6 points ahead...and the Robins have 2 games in hand. The play-off dream is not dead yet.

The Damage:
£12 ent
£2 programme
£8.60 pints of Cruzcampo and Guinness
= £22.60