Radford 3-3 Ollerton Town (Raddy Win 4-3 on Pens)

It's Sunday 6th September and I'm at Woodthorpe Hospital, two miles outside Nottingham city centre, for what should be a routine cataract operation on my left eye. I've become concerned about the sight in my other eye, which also has a cataract. I ask the Consultant to check it. I'm immediately carted off to Eye Casualty at the Queen's Medical Centre University Hospital in Nottingham. There, I'm met by a grim-faced doctor who says I might not be able to regain my sight.  I have a detached retina with four large tears. I put on a brave face for a distraught Ms Moon. I sit silently in my armchair, for the remainder of the day, gazing out of the window, thinking about what lies ahead and what the future holds.

I go under the surgeon's knife first thing on Tuesday morning. The operation is called a vitrectomy and is complicated. Silicone oils are injected around the retina and are protected by an air bubble. I wake up feeling groggy. I hang around a side room for a few hours of recovery before being discharged. I feel like I've been hit by a bus.

I've been told to posture for 50 minutes every hour, ten hours a day, for the next two weeks. We order some equipment where I put my head down a hole and have to keep still. It's mentally challenging, soul-destroying and deadly boring, but an important part of the recovery process. I thank the Lord for the mindfulness classes I attended a few years ago - my positive thoughts keep me upbeat.

I take a turn for the worse on Saturday evening. My head feels like it's having a hemorrhage and my eyes are dripping blood. I'm rushed into Eye Casualty. My eye pressure is off the scale. An on-call doctor arrives from his Beeston home and doubles my dosage.

Ms Moon has been by my side (and has been my rock) for every second of this sorry saga. She administers all the eyedrops and dishes out all the bollockings when morale hits a low. She has a well-deserved short break near to the east coast as I'm ferried up to my brother's crib in York, for a few nights away. Even with only 40% vision in the other eye I still manage to spot England Test bowler 'Fiery' Fred Trueman's grave in the churchyard at Bolton Abbey - I can't 'arf pick 'em. 

Fast forward the clock a few weeks and I'm up at Plains Road in Mapperley. Two of my favourite sides: Gedling Miners' Welfare and Radford are crossing swords. I can't see a lot, to be honest. Vision is blurry; it's like opening your eyes when you are swimming underwater.

I walk past the Radford dugout. 'Big Glenn' pops his head out and is as nice as pie with Ms Moon. "And how are you, you four-eyed t**t?" he says to me - it's a back-handed compliment, I think. His young Radford side, a work in progress, are magnificent in the first half and are 2-0 up at the break. Ms Moon pops across the road for a coffee with her bestie Jill, leaving 'Stevie Wonder' to fend for himself. 

It's backs to the wall for the Pheasants, in the second half, as they are pinned back by a rejuvenated Miners. Gedling claw a goal back as Radford hang on for dear life. They are in debt to Club stalwart Matt Hopewell who puts his body on the line, bravely blocking a certain goal with his head and face. He's dazed, dizzy and requiring treatment. I love Matt. He's not one of those lads who ups sticks at the end of each season, drifting from club to club. He'd be my first name on the team sheet if I was the gaffer.

I hook up with The Taxman at Carlton Town's Stoke Lane ground on Tuesday evening. It's for the best as there's a double helping of Emmerdale Farm on the box. It's six months since I've seen The Taxman. He moans about the plight of Nottingham Forest for most of the evening. 

The Millers are a joy to watch these days. They wipe the floor with Wisbech Town, playing some beautiful fast-flowing football. Well, I think they did, as I couldn't see chuff all out my battered black eye. The visitors couldn't cope with the pace and power of 9 jacket Aaron Opoku. Sticky's favourite, Oliver Clark, ('The Carlton Cattermole') bagged again, keeping him on track for the Golden Boot. 

It's Friday evening and I'm sat in the armchair supping a few strong craft ales I purchased from Hopology, on Melton Road, in 'Bread 'n Lard Island.' Six Barrels is my usual haunt on a Friday teatime with my old sparring partner Tony 'Dog' Mcdonald. But I've a big day out set up for tomorrow with Matt Dring and Craig Farina, in town, prior to the FA Vase encounter between Radford and Ollerton in inner-city Nottingham. It's lights out for Sticky straight after Gogglebox.

Ms Moon has fired up the grill as I traipse downstairs. I sink a strong, half-filled cup of coffee before hoovering up two crispy smoked bacon sandwiches, smothered in soft blue cheese. It's a faff getting into town these days as Canal Street has been shut permanently. Nottingham is also under the microscope as cases of COVID this week have soared, particularly in the student community, where 75% of all cases have been recorded.

I jump out of the car on Friar Lane. I wander past Cafe Sobar; I won't be popping in there anytime soon.  'Dringy' and Craig are already tucking into some ales. I shout up a New Dawn Pale from the Navigation Brewery as I relive my eye horror story for the umpteenth time (you're getting boring now Sticky).

We have been enjoying some 80s music on the pub dukey; particularly Big Country. The big sports screens are turned on and the volume is ramped up - it's chuffin' egg-chasing and time for a sharp exit. We get masked up and jump on a tram in the Old Market Square. We're so fascinated by the buildings we pass that we miss our stop; alighting in Basford rather than on Radford Road. A tram is coming in the opposite direction. We dash across the tracks, avoiding getting knocked down like Alan Bradley did in Corrie a few decades ago when he was hunting down Rita Fairclough or whatever her name was, in Blackpool.

Radford is one of my favourite areas in Nottingham. It has an unfair and unjust reputation. I have met nothing other than good people during my frequent trips here in the last 15 years of groundhopping. Radford FC's Selhurst Street is a ground to die for. It's £5 on the gate. We do a circuit of the ground. I can see the lads are impressed.

Big Glenn is loitering outside the clubhouse. He clocks I'm wearing sunglasses. He roars "Here he is, Lennie Peters", a reference to the blind singer from the duo Peters and Lee, an Opportunity Knocks act from the 70s TV talent show. He says he's sick of reading about pubs and fish and chip shops in my blog and is there any chance he can have some credit and a good write up. "It's not about you Glenn, and anyway I'm one of the few people in Notts who actually likes you" I reply as I step on the gas.

Ollerton are highly-rated and will fancy their chances as they are talked up on social media. It's a no show from them in the first half. They look jittery, listless and disjointed. Radford race into a two-goal lead. The first to hit the onion bag is a beauty by 18-year-old winger Buba Ceesay, who turns the full-back inside out before unleashing a shot which gives 'keeper Levi Owen no chance. The fast feet of Mamoke Akauna sees Radford double their lead. Ollerton hit the post as the half draws to a close. I catch Big Glenn close to the tunnel area and remind him that they were two the good this time last week.

We ask Levi in the Ollerton nets what was said in the changing room at half-time. "I'm just relieved to be out here", he smirks. The inevitable happens. Ollerton restore parity with 20 minutes remaining. They start to show what all the hype is about. They take the lead on 78 minutes following some fantastic play on the flank, which results in a floated cross to the back post that isn't dealt with.

I try not to catch Big Glenn's eye as I sneak past the dugout. I've been a proper Jonah over the years. If he clocks me I'll get booted out of the ground. There's one minute remaining when the referee awards a corner. Another of Sticky's favourites, Joe Meakin, sends in a peach of a dead ball, 'keeper Joe Searson-Smithard has raced up into the area, he leaps like a salmon to nod the ball home, before racing to the crowd to celebrate. It's a beautiful, heart-warming moment that ends a breathtaking game.

We're back in the bar refilling our glasses whilst the referee sorts out the spot-kicks. You have to feel for Levi Owen who saves a penalty but is flagged by an eagle-eyed assistant for coming off his line - it was marginal and appears a tad harsh. Ollerton's fifth penalty is skied over the bar and lands in Asda car park on Radford Road.

We enjoy a drink with the Big 'Un in the bar again. "You can bring these two lads again Sticky" says Glenn. We jump on the tram back into town, partaking in a few scoops in The Curious Tavern, before I introduce the lads to the delights of Neon Raptor in Sneinton Market and its outside drinking area. I can't 'arf pick em.

I jump in a cab after a 8% finisher and ring up Ms Moon. "Princess can you put on 'Welcome Home' by Peters and Lee on the YouTube dukey, please" 

Attendance: 115

Men of the Match: Big Glenn, Dringy and Craig - proper lifted my spirits, lads.