Worksop Town 2-1 Penistone Church

It's Tuesday 13th March. Sticky Palms is tootling along the A52 between Staffordshire and Derbyshire. I've just finished a business meeting in the town of Leek. Comedy duo Hawksbee and Jacobs are broadcasting live at the Cheltenham Festival for TalkSport. They're interviewing a professional gambler/champion tipster about his fancied horses for the opening day of the meeting. He mentions two names: Beware the Bear and Espoir D'Allen - who is running in the Champion Hurdle.

I know jack diddly squat about horse racing. I have a few each way bets on the Grand National, like most folk do, but that's about my lot. I think little more about it until someone pipes up in the office, an hour later, asking me if I've had a punt on anything. I log-in to my Sky Bet account (used for football, Eurovision Song Contest and Dancing on Ice only) and place two small bets on the said horses. I check a few hours later, one has won at 16/1 the other has won at 20/1. I immediately look up the gambler on Twitter and peruse his tips for the rest of the Festival. I place a further six bets of which three won at 12/1, 5/1 and an astonishing 50/1 - it'll pay for a few weekends away groundhopping folks!

It's Sunday lunchtime and I'm snooping around Nottingham General Cemetery, on Canning Circus - you can't beat a bit of celebrity grave-hunting. I've trying to locate the final resting place of Mr John Player - he of cigarette fame. All my mates used to smoke Johnny Blue back in the day. If you were brave enough you'd pinch one of your grandad's Players No.10 - they'd blow your chuffing head off; they were that strong. I've moseyed around the graveyard for a good thirty minutes now, without success. It's an aborted attempt as rain and hail fall from the slate grey skies. I retire to the Sir John Borlase Warren for warmth and a pint of Lincoln Green real ale. John Player will have to wait for another time. Louise asked me later in the week: "are you sure he wasn't cremated, Sticky?"

There's a knock on the door on Tuesday teatime; it's my wingman, The Taxman. We're soon shooting up the A60 towards Mansfield. There's always time for a spot of snap, so we pull into an old Berni Inn called The Hutt, in Ravenshead, which is now a Chef and Brewer. I have to force my tea down as I've lost my appetite. My stomach tightens, the nerves and anxiety start to kick in. The Mighty Lincoln City are due to face Mansfield Town in a crunch clash at Field Mill in one hour's time.

It was a bloodbath in the Checkatrade Trophy tie between the two sides at Sincil Bank, back in September. 'Dirty Mansfield' had six players booked in the first half an hour. Lincoln's patience finally snapped when fiery Northern Ireland midfielder, Michael O'Connor, received a straight red card. Stags' manager, David Flitcroft, and Imps' assistant manager, Nicky Cowley, had to be pulled apart at the final whistle. Flitcroft said there was 'a smugness about the place' (Sincil Bank). There's clearly no love lost with the Cowleys. Danny and Nicky are former secondary school teachers who have bucked the trend of ex-professionals being appointed as managers. Flitcroft, with his screwed up, chiselled and contorted face, accompanied with his Mancunian dulcet tones, reminds me of the bitter and twisted DCI Gene Hunt from the police drama Life on Mars.

There's bad news to report; tickets have sold out in the away end; we've somehow ended up being housed in the West Stand. I'm an infiltrator amongst their singing section - The Taxman is neutral on these occasions. Boy oh boy, these Stags fans can sing. They ramp it up on four minutes when Krystian Pearce nods them in front. 'The Lincoln' are played off the park for the first thirty minutes and are relieved to hear the half time whistle. I barely mutter a word to The Taxman at the break as I'm so flipping cross at what I've just seen.

The Stags just can't find that second elusive goal. Their loan signing from Nottingham Forest, Jorge Grant, is hooked on the hour, as Flitcroft tries to protect their lead. Grant looks a luxury player on this showing, and won't put a tackle in, which doesn't go down too well with the locals, who know their football in these parts. Lincoln grow into the game and end up with a point after Big John Akinde rolls in his fourteenth League goal of the season from the penalty spot.

I'm back out again watching football on Tuesday evening in Borrowash close to D***y. It's an East Midlands Counties League cup semi-final between Belper United and Sticky's favourites Clifton All Whites. In a pulsating game of football Clifton run out 2-1 winners. My old pal James 'Tosh' Turner will be as pleased as punch that his troops have dug in and ground out win against a decent Belper outfit.

Massive news reaches me by Ms Moon's social media on Friday. It has been announced that the Big GC has recorded a romantic ballad about her split with 'Arg (don't ask me) with the record producer and songwriter Naughty Boy. Folk are saying it's right up there with Beyonce and that she'll probably scoop up the lot at next year's BRIT awards.

The Big Man is aboard for Saturday's groundhopping excursion, sadly his car has failed it's MOT. Luckily I've had the 'Rolls Royce' washed and vacuumed by the Kurdistan lads at a car wash in Gedling. Whilst the boys are polishing and valeting my car I try to phone as many people in our Scottish office in East Kilbride to take the rise out of them about the Kazakhstan Disaster (3-0) on Thursday. My mate, Jimmy Henry, a Glaswegian, has gone missing on social media.

I give the back lawn its first cut of the season on Saturday morning and take Ms Moon's empties (bottles of prosecco) down to the bottle bank at Carlton Tesco - it was two trips folks. Okay, so maybe there was the odd gin and red wine bottle in there too. I make my debut at the Oceans chippy just a stone's throw from our back garden. A fish and chip special at £3.70 is a steal and proper scrumptious.

The plan was to drive up to Swallownest, in Rotherham, and tick their ground off. But I was made aware by the blog's north Notts and South Yorkshire correspondent, 'Dudsey' that a top of the table clash was taking place up at Sandy Lane in Worksop. It's a bugger to park your car up here at the best of times and with a large crowd expected we arrive early at two bells. I find a side street across from the ground. After two failed attempts at parking, I hand over the keys to the Big Man and 'leave it to the professionals.'

Worksop is a town in the Bassetlaw district of Nottinghamshire with a population of 45,000. Coal mining provided thousands of jobs in the 19th and 20th Century. By the 1990s the mines had all closed. Premier Foods are now the town's biggest employer. Famous residents from Worksop include: the golfers Lee Westwood (who sponsors the players shirts), Mark Foster, Maurice Bembridge, goalkeepers Darren Ward and Ian Bennett, Iron Maiden lead singer Bruce Dickinson, John Parr of St Elmo's Fire fame, former Lincoln City and England manager Graham Taylor and the actor Donald Pleasance.

The Big Man kindly pays us in at £6 on the gate. I buy a couple of golden goal tickets and enter the raffle draw for a 40" JVC flat screen TV. The place is stacked out with folk, with reports of an expected four-figure crowd. The DJ is all over it with The Cure and Pulp. There's a real buzz of anticipation and excitement in the ground. The bar is doing a roaring trade, as is the snack bar, where customers are served quickly - what a payday this is turning out to be.

We take our position behind the nearest goal, the end at which the Tigers will attack. 'Dudsey' is holed up at the other end; we'll catch up with him at half-time. Any early nerves for the hosts are settled early on with a fine strike by Craig Mitchell to put them 1-0 up. The visitors are pegged back and fall further behind on 14 minutes following a wonder strike by the impressive Matt Sykes, which leaves the Penistone 'keeper catching flies. Like Sticky and the Big Man said earlier to a couple of Penistone supporters, 'we don't do 0-0s.'

We wander up to the far end at half-time so we can stand with 'Dudsey' for the second half. He is an absolute mine of information on football in these neck of the woods. I've not seen him for a couple of years, so it's great to catch up with him, as he's a cracking lad. I nervously scroll down the live scores. Lincoln are 1-0 up down at Crawley Town, in Sussex.

It's another barnstorming 45 minutes, as the game ebbs and flows. 'Church' are always in it, but find the Worksop 'keeper in fine form. They finally peg back a deserved goal with eight minutes remaining to set up a grand finale.

There are gasps in the crowd when the stadium announcer confirms the attendance as 1628; surely this is a League record?  Penistone Church fall short in the end, but they can feel proud that they played their part in this epic encounter.

'We can't 'arf pick.

Man of the Match: 'Church' 7 jacket Elliott Firth

Welwyn Garden City 0-3 Bromsgrove Sporting

What a wonderful afternoon out we've had at the Sir Tom Finney Stadium, home to Lancashire's Bamber Bridge FC. We spend the night at our favourite haunt, The Sun Hotel, in the heart of Lancaster. I slope off for a few pints at my favourite pub, the Borough, with its stylish chandeliers, antique tables and first class ales. The comedian Justin Moorhouse has played a few nights here on his Northern Joker tour. Ms Moon and I have a trot around the city centre, calling in at 'Spoons and a Gin Palace, before retiring for Match of the Day - you old romantic Sticky.

It's late on Tuesday afternoon and deja vu. The Taxman is riding shotgun, with Lincolnshire once again the choice of destination, except it's the bright lights of Lincoln City's Sincil Bank and not Boston United's York Street ground. I spare The Taxman the agony of a slog up Steep Hill. We turn off the High Street, down a narrow passageway, adjacent to Stokes High Bridge Cafe. It leads us onto the Brayford Waterfront, with its array of pubs and chain restaurants. We grab a pizza at Ask Italian and chew the cud, before legging it up Scorer Street, the birthplace of former Nottingham Forest striker Lee Chapman.

We're housed in the Stacey West Stand. It's not my favourite viewing point but will have to do, as another near capacity crowd fills the ground. 'Paul Scholes' Oldham Athletic are tonight's visitors - that's what Sky Sports and TalkSport call them. Scholes looks miserable, vulnerable and alone as he prowls the touchline. 'The Lincoln' sweep aside his team, after a bright start by the Latics. It's no surprise to me when a few days later it is announced that Scholesy has quit his role by text.

The Taxman gets the green light from his missus for the trip up to Field Mill, in Mansfield, next Monday, for the top of the table clash between the Stags and the Imps. I'll be sat on my hands for most of the evening, as once again I've missed out on a ticket in the away end, so will be parked up in the West Stand with the home fans, like I was last season, when Ollie Palmer grabbed a last gasp equaliser, much to the annoyance of the baying pack.

There are further footballing duties on Wednesday evening. A rejuvenated Nottingham Forest and Aston Villa lock horns at The City Ground. I grab a bite to eat with the Big Man, Moysie and Bruiser at The Botanist in West Bridgford. The Big Man makes a steak 'n ale pie disappear in seconds. I slip off, as I like to take my pew in the notorious 'A' Block, before the drunken hordes arrive.

It's a helluva of a first half for the neutral. The Tricky Trees take the lead after a freak cross (shanked) by Jack Colback catches the wind and evades the 'keeper. Villa roared on by a large away following are 2-1 up on fifteen minutes, both strikes coming from the impressive John McGinn, a bargain buy from Hibernian. Kortney Hause puts the game to bed on 61 minutes, bundling in another cross that a shaky Forest defence fail to deal with. It's eerily quiet in 'A' Block. Most folk sober up, realising another year is to spent in the Championship, as the Club throw a load of wonga, chasing the elusive Premiership dream.

On Friday evening I have a couple of craft ales from the Tiny Rebel stable, up at The Brickyard, on Carlton Hill, two miles outside Nottingham city centre. I'm chatting to two-year-old St Bernard, Henry. He's comfortably the biggest dog I've seen and could clear the pub with one swish of his tail. Back at base camp, Ms Moon and I watch a depressing documentary on Netflix about the disappearance of Madeleine McCann. I honestly don't know what to make of it, but would you ever leave three kids under the age of four years old unattended? Doctors an all, eh?

I'm hurtling down the A52 towards Grantham on Saturday lunchtime. Ms Moon has very kindly packed me up a flask of coffee and a sausage and melted Italian cheese baguette for the journey. I'm heading over to Whittlesey, close to Peterborough, to pick up my old mucker Ackers. I've the brilliant broadcaster Danny Baker for company. He's asking listeners to call in if they've ever spoken to a famous person on the phone. A guy comes on who used to be an operator, back in the day, for directory enquiries - that's 192 kids. He said John Motson phoned him up once enquiring about phone numbers for Bulgarian airlines, as he had to fly to Sofia for a UEFA Cup tie. Imagine the commentators Darren Fletcher or Martin Tyler having to book their own flights these days.

I'm soon out in the Fenlands, passing the huge McCain potato processing factory in Whittlesey. Colin Murray's Fighting Talk is on Five Live. Someone is asked what their favourite Wow football transfer was. They mention Jonathan 'Bungalow' Woodgate's move from Middlesbrough to Real Madrid. He spent the entire first season injured and then managed to score an own goal and get sent off after 64 minutes of his debut.

Ackers scurries down the main road in Whittlesey, as I've managed to pull into a private, gated road and cheesed off a resident trying to drive out. We have a chit-chat and catch up, as we haven't seen one another since our visit to Bury St Edmunds back in October, when we saw a decent match and visited John Peel's grave in a Suffolk village.

Christ on a bike the bloomin' A1 is closed at the junction of the A14. Sat Nav navigates us cross country, before we rejoin the A1 just shy of Welwyn. Welwyn Garden City is in Hertfordshire and has a population of just over 50,000. It was a designated new town in 1948 and the second garden city in England (founded in 1920). It was once well known as the home of the breakfast cereal Shredded Wheat, formerly made by Nabisco.

The football team were founded in 1921 and are known as the Citizens, they are based at Herns Lane, one mile out of town. The club amalgamated with local rivals Shredded Wheat FC in 1934. Well known folk born and bred in the town include: 'singer' Alesha Dixon, golfer Nick Faldo, former Premiership referee Mark Halsey, goalkeeper David James, presenter and model Lisa Snowdon and the actress Una Stubbs. Lincoln City left-back Harry Toffolo was born in the town - not many of my readers will have heard of him - soz Harry.

There's already a buzz around the BP Mitchell Stadium, as I reverse the car up a grass verge just outside the entrance to the ground. The dreadful Gangnam Style is blasting out of the PA system as we pay £20 for entrance and two programmes. I could hear Ackers tummy rumbling all the way down the A1. He's soon getting stuck into a chicken and mushroom pie, chips and a large sausage roll - I'm still stuffed from breakfast.

The clubhouse is bustling with folk who are keeping a watchful eye on Watford's progress in their FA Cup quarter-final tie versus Crystal Palace. Andre Gray scores the winner, a lad I spotted in the Non League playing for Hinckley Town in Leicestershire as a raw 19-year-old.

The ground is tree-lined and lacks any real features. There's cover behind the nearest goal, with a smart stand running along the left-hand touchline. A guy with the initials DB on his tracksuit says hello to us; it's Welwyn manager Dean Barker, who seems a friendly chap.

The blustery conditions kill off any chance of standing between the dugouts. We shelter over the far side, nearest to the end Bromsgrove attack. I've heard all about their striker Jason Cowley; the boy doesn't fail to disappoint and is at the centre of all their attacks. The windy conditions don't affect them one jot. They are two goals up before half-time and look a constant threat with a variety of short range and long range passing.

I had hoped for an Alesha Dixon choon by the Welwyn DJ at the break. The cackling fishmonger's wife's voice is right up there with Houston, Ross, Stansfield and Sonia. We move further up the ground as we expect Bromsgrove to finish off the game, which they do with a smart finish by substitute Jake Heath with his first touch of the game.

We spend the final half an hour of the game chatting to a Dad and lad from Bromsgrove, who are travelling back on the team coach. They departed Bromsgrove at 10:15am and are thoroughly immersed in the Non-League scene. They give us the heads up on one or two of the lads in their squad. I've pencilled in to watch them again on March 30th away at Didcot Town, it'll give Ms Moon and I an excuse for a night out in Oxford.

Attendance: 328

Man of the Match: Henry the St Bernard

Bamber Bridge 1-3 Whitby Town

I've thrown myself full tilt back into the groundhopping scene. Last weekend Ms Moon and I spent a pleasant day out in Northamptonshire. It's a county we've explored a lot over the past few years, and very underrated it is too. It has some lovely picture postcard villages, one of which is Brixworth, where we dined at the 18th Century thatch-roofed Coach and Horses, before taking in Burton Park Wanderers v Long Buckby AFC in the UCL Div One. Latimer Park is ground-shared with Southern Premier League giants Kettering Town. Burton Park blew away the visitors 4-0.

We were back in Notts for 6:15. There was time for a quick wash, change of clothes before taking a short taxi ride into the city centre. I sank a pint of Infinity from the Blue Monkey Brewery in the recently refurbished Lillie Langtry's on South Sherwood St. We wandered across the road to the Royal Concert Hall where 70s rock band 10CC, formed in Stockport, played a stunning set. It's sad that Godley, Creme and Eric Stewart are no longer in the band, but nonetheless, they were bloody brilliant. Sticky's favourite track of the night was 'I'm Mandy Fly Me. Yes, I love my indy bands, but 10CC reminds me of a very happy childhood.

It's late afternoon on Tuesday, March 5th and I'm driving through the village of Tollerton, in south Notts. I glance to my left as a low flying aircraft emerges from the clouds and prepares to land at Nottingham City Airport. I park up outside Ives and Co Solicitors, in Plumtree. A tall, pale man saunters down Church Hill and crosses the road. He opens the back passenger side door of my car and throws in his hat and coat. It's a month since I last saw a game with The Taxman. That was a nine-goal ripsnorter of a tie in the Notts Senior Cup between Clifton AW and Gedling Miners' Welfare.

There are the usual tales of woe from The Taxman which include the patchy form of Nottingham Forest, where he has been a season ticket holder for the last 50 years, as well as the aches and pains caused by a day painting skirting boards in the house he is renovating - it's like something out of Grand Designs. I'll check the car seat later for any speckles of paint and invoice him accordingly.

It's a steady ride down the A52 through Grantham and into the flat, marshy land of Lincolnshire. It's a proper treat for the Taxman tonight, not only will he be sitting down for a chippy tea at the 100-year-old Tate's Fish and Chip Restaurant in Boston town centre, but he'll also be ticking off the wonderful, old York Street ground that belongs, for the time being, to National League North side Boston Utd.

Table-topping Stockport County and their large following (263 - 236 mile-round trip) are housed in a stand to our left. They are noisy, rowdy and in good voice. 6,311 rocked up at Edgeley Park on Saturday - It was a League record attendance. for the sixth division. The Hatters of Stockport win the game handsomely 3-1, following some ruthless and clinical finishing.

It's a less than happy journey back into Lincolnshire on Friday evening. There's a bad smash on the A46. Newark is gridlocked; traffic is diverted to the east of the town. I end up driving through the village of Stapleford, before having to cross four lanes of rush hour traffic to rejoin the A46 at Norton Disney.

Hell's teeth Carruthers, it's taken me two hours to make the 35-mile journey to Lincoln. I peg it up the High Street, over the railway bridge, as the crossing gates are closed, and up that chuffing Steep Hill. I'm fagged out folks, as I turn right at the White Hart Hotel and pull open the front door of BeerHeadZ just off Bailgate. A cheery barman recommends a Citra pale ale, which is dispatched down the hatch in ten minutes flat. I head down that bloody hill again, taking time for a pit stop at Hunters Fish and Chips for a Pukka pie and mushy peas. I plonk myself down in the Stacey West Stand (named after two Lincoln supporters who tragically lost their lives at the Bradford Fire Disaster in 1985).

Yeovil Town and their small band of supporters have made the 400 mile-round trip to Sincil Bank this evening. I saw them tonk Kevin Nolan's Notts County 4-0 at Meadow Lane earlier in the season, but just like the Pies, the Glovers are in big trouble now, too.

'The Lincoln' have been limping over the line of late, but incredibly are still unbeaten in their last 13 League games. I was unimpressed last week when I saw a 96th minute Big John Akinde goal earn them a fortunate point, in my opinion, versus Exeter City.

Yeovil prove to be no pushover and enjoy plenty of possession. City win the game following a brilliantly executed cross by mercurial winger Harry Anderson, which is headed home by the impressive Mark O'Hara, on loan from Peterborough United. The drive home is so much sweeter with three points in the bag, with the pressure firmly back on Bury and 'Dirty Mansfield.'

I have a fitful night's sleep which I can only put down to demolishing a bag of Haribos at the match. The game is confirmed as ON by Bamber Bridge's excellent twitter feed. Ms Moon asks whether we''re going celebrity grave hunting. I'm still seething that we spent the night in Ross-on-Wye totally unaware that the 'Queen of Crossroads' 'Meg Richardson' (Noele Gordon) and playwright, Dennis Potter (stayed the night at our house once, true story) were laid to rest in the local churchyard.

Ms Moon can be a nasty pants without her coffee fix, so first port of call is the Esso garage in Clifton for a Costa latte. I have to put up with Graham Norton on the car radio, although he does play the superb The Love I Lost, by Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes, which was one of the tracks on Johnny Owen's jaw-dropping Nottingham Forest documentary 'I Believe in Miracles.'

The M6 is a breeze at this time of day. We are soon rolling into the Cavendish Arms, in the Lancashire village of Brindle, with St James' Church providing a beautiful backdrop. The barman pulls a nice drop of ale. Lunch is disappointing; we both choose homemade pies, as after all, it is National Pie Week. Sadly both aren't piping hot and the chips arrive well after with profuse apologies by our server - I still tip the lad a couple of quid, as he looks stressed out.

We take a stroll down the High Street in Bamber Bridge town centre, but to be honest, nowt is going off. Ms Moon hoodwinks me to going into some 'department store' to see if they have any footstools. The shop reminds me of Reginald Perrin's GROT store; it's full of valueless items sold at extortionate prices.

A super friendly steward navigates Ms Moon into a parking spot behind the Whitby Town team coach at Bamber Bridge's Sir Tom Finney Stadium. 'The Preston Plumber' scored an incredible 187 goals in 433 appearances for Preston North End and 30 goals in 76 international appearances for England.

Bamber Bridge or The Brig as they are known were formed in 1974. Their record attendance is 2,300 for a friendly versus the Czech national squad who were using their ground as a training camp for Euro 96. Former Preston North End and Nottingham Forest tenacious midfielder, Paul McKenna, has played for the club. McKenna does some brilliant impersonations and tells amusing anecdotes on the Undr the Cosh podcast - it's well worth checking out (thanks for the tip Barthez).

It's £9 each on the gate and £1,50 for a cracking programme. Ms Moon buys some raffle tickets from a chatty lady. There's a real community feel about the place. The ground is a little belter. The two-tiered clubhouse, bar and club shop are behind the nearest goal, with the Gerry Lawson Stand (named in the memory of a former club stalwart) running up the right-hand touchline. There's a low roofed, covered terrace behind the far goal and an open standing area to the back of the dugouts.

I'm not sure whether it's Dave Pearce, Judge Jules or Danny Rampling on the decks. The chap is banging out an unbelievable set of dance/trance toons from the late 90s early noughties. We sit in the stand to start with, to keep out of the howling, bitterly cold wind, but are soon on the move as some young kids are causing havoc dashing about - guessing they're fuelled with Haribos. The Whitby coaching staff are furious with the sluggish start their team have made, following their 140-mile coach journey.

A youthful-looking Brig side are running the legs off the visitors. They take a deserved lead on five minutes through an Alistair Waddecar header following a whipped in free kick by Matt Dudley. The dangerous Regan Linney sees an effort go agonisingly the wrong side of the post. Whitby get lucky minutes from half-time, although the move is sublime and the finish exquisite from Bradley Fewster.

'May's Place' is doing a brisk, roaring trade in hot food, coffee and Yorkshire Tea. We're back in the Gerry Lawson Stand, nearest to the end Whitby will attack. I expect The Seasiders to push on after seeing my earlier 3-0 score prediction blown out of the water after five minutes play.

The Brig huff and puff but can't blow the Whitby defence down. The visitors take the lead on 75 minutes with the Brig failing to clear their lines. A thumping finish from Fewster on 85 minutes ensures a happy journey home to North Yorkshire. I hope their coach driver hasn't blocked us in.

Attendance: 314

Man of the Match: Ms Moon for putting up with me this week.

Ravenshead Res 0-1 Keyworth Utd Dev

We're feeling pretty pleased with ourselves. Chris Thompson and I took over the running of the 'Keyworth Baby Squad in early October, with the team languishing in the nether regions of Division Two in the Notts Senior League. The lads weren't enjoying their football one iota. In the last 15 games, we have won 10, drawn 2 and lost 3, scoring 60 times and conceding 23 goals, having shipped 50 goals in the first 9 games.

The lads are full of beans having banged in 19 goals in their last two outings. Training is fun, with 90% of the squad attending each week. I really miss my groundhopping, but I'm loving my time with the young guns, and have no plans to retire just yet.

It's Tuesday evening and I'm hurtling down the Nottingham ring road towards the village of Ruddington where 'Our Joe' lives. His brother ('The Keyworth Georgie Best') is on a 12-day bender in Lanzarote. Joe and I have a chippy tea at the Ruddington Fish Bar, on Church Lane, before making the short journey down Green Lane to watch the World famous Clifton All Whites versus one of Sticky's other favourites, Gedling Miners' Welfare.

I scratch my head, Stan Laurel style, as I work out who I'd like to win this Notts Senior Cup tie. Both clubs are dear to my heart, with quality fish 'n chip shops close to both stadia. 'Our Joe' has played at junior and senior level for All Whites. He talks fondly of the time they won the Midland League Cup at Telford United's New Bucks Head ground. I'm really hoping he comes back home to Nottingham, after finishing his degree at university. It would be great to get him back on the pitch, playing 'ball again.

The two teams serve up a classic cup tie encounter. The Miners' are 1-0 up within 40 seconds. With the score being 4-2 to All Whites at half time, many in the crowd feel the game is over. Not Sticky though, as I know Jack Jepson always has a goal in him. I mention to CAW manager James 'Tosh' Turner at the break that they only have to mark one player out of the game - to be honest I'd double mark him, that's how dangerous the boy is.

Clifton fail to heed that warning, with Jepson bagging inside sixty seconds of the restart. Luke Smith restores parity on 52 minutes. Jepson misses a penalty that would have seen them clinch the tie. In extra time Liam Corrigan's header puts the Miners' into the quarter-finals after 120 minutes of breathtaking football. It's great to see Gedling manager Chris Marks back in the dugout and enjoying his football again. I can barely feel my toes as I head back to the car. Captain Scott wouldn't have survived tonight's Arctic conditions.

It's bitterly cold on Wednesday evening as 22 lads rock up for training at South Notts Academy in Radcliffe On Trent. The Club is in a good place right now, with both teams going into Saturday on the back of long unbeaten runs. It's absolutely freezing with the 3G white over with frost. The lads have a good warm up before going into a game - I don't want folk standing around getting cold waiting to do drills.

I've had a cracking week at work, and have proper brought home the bacon. A big deal lands on Thursday. It spurs me on to book a cruise with Royal Caribbean to celebrate Ms Moon's up and coming 50th birthday. It's done and dusted in a 15-minute phone call. Barcelona, Cannes, Monte Carlo, Florence, Pisa, Rome, Athens, Santorini, Mykonos and Valetta, here we come. I'm feeling rather chipper, as I'm in Budapest for four nights, with the lads, in June, with the annual jolly boys outing to Tenerife in November - I really can't 'arf pick em.

It's Friday evening and I'm driving up 'Millionaire's Row' in the village of Keyworth. I swing the car into a large drive with wrought iron gates. Tommo lines up the 'Gin Palace'. I have three large Whitley Parma Violet gins, neatly decorated with blueberries and raspberries. I get tonked at table tennis by Tommo and 'Lord Geoffrey' before heading down the Keyworth Tavern for the Arsenal v Manchester United FA Cup tie.

I'd secretly hoped to catch some of the 'Baby Squadron' out having a few scoops, but the word on the street is that they're all tucked up, having an early night, ready for the game tomorrow - they're probably all in town, where I can't hunt them all down.

They've finally got a landlord at the Tav' who understands beer and looks after his ales. He has a splendid drop of Moonshine ale on as a guest ale from the Abbeydale Brewery in Sheffield. Six pints later and I'm collapsing onto Lord Geoffrey's couch, with a cup of tea for company, watching England's demise in the First Test in Barbados.

I feel as rough as a badger's arse in the morning. The Big Man is there for me, in my hour of need. He invites me around his crib for a full English. It's just what the doctor's ordered. I wash it down with a mug of tea. I'll see the Big Man later up at Ravenshead, as he loves watching the homegrown youngsters play. I bump into Fod, Lou, Trumpy Bolton and Jayne. They are en route to Ravenshead to go on the sauce and support the lads too. I immediately phone every pub in Ravenshead to ensure fresh barrels are put on.

Crikey Moses, I've still got last night's clothes on; what a tramp. I grab a quick shower, pack the kit, blow up the balls and fill up the water bottles before jumping back in the car and heading up the A60. I roll into the Ravenshead Leisure Centre car park at 12:45pm. Ravenshead is a village in Nottinghamshire with a population of 5,600. It borders Papplewick, Blidworth and Newstead - it's situated close to Sherwood Forest.

The lads start to arrive in a convoy of cars. They've all got smiles on their faces and can't wait to get in the changing room so they can bang some toons out of the sound system. 'Sizzers' always puts on London Grime artist Cadet, as he thinks I like him. It would break his heart if he found out that I think he's pants. 'Lose Yourself to Dance' by French electronic duo Daft Punk is song of the day - well done 'Sizzers.'

'Brain of Britain', 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' is bragging to the lads of 12-hour benders and how he's smoked his way through 500 fags in Lanzarote. The clown has also bought a brand new pair of white boots with him. They last all of ten minutes in the warm-up, as he complains of emerging blisters. I've given him a start today so he can blow away the cobwebs - five goals in his last three outings, with a much-improved attitude, sees the No.7 shirt returned to him.

I give the lads a pep talk out on the pitch ten minutes before kick off, warning them of the pitfalls of playing a side they beat 7-0 in the reverse fixture. It was only last week that Ravenshead gained a valuable point away at AFC Clifton on the adjacent pitch to where we were playing. They have our upmost respect.

We are being refereed by a young lady who comes from Melton Mowbray. She addresses the lads before the game, explaining what behaviour is expected of them. Hats off to her, it's the first referee that has the courtesy to do this with the lads. I ask her if she supports Leicester City. She replies in the affirmative. The lads start booing  ... lol.

Talking of Leicester I see in the distance Trumpy Bolton. He's crying a river of tears after being told there are no licensed premises in the leisure centre. The Big Man ferries him down to a Shell garage so he can stock up on Strongbow Dark Fruits.

We start off like a train and are soon into the groove. The link-up play and passing is a joy to behold. But we often need an early goal to help us settle down and build confidence; today it doesn't come. 'Woods' and 'Cal' are telepathic with their passing. Ollie ('The Keyworth Peter Beardsley') skies a shot over the bar from close range. He was offended by the PB nickname when he looked him up on Google images. I cheered him up though when I suggested he looked at footage of Beardsley's feet and running style on YouTube.

Ravenshead are a physical team, but play within the laws of the game. My lad isn't getting much joy out of their left-back, Josh Brentnall, who is as hard as nails and rapid over the ground. It's 0-0 at the break - Sticky Palms doesn't do 0-0s. I tell the lads to stay calm, collective and together, the goal will come if we are patient.

'Ravo' came more into the game at the fag end of the first half. We are in debt to our 'keeper 'Shirty' who has made some fantastic saves. We don't start the second half very well. I make a quick change on ten minutes, as I can smell a goal for the home side in the air.

The game is getting scrappy and disjointed and is heading for a goalless draw. 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' was hooked on 65 minutes, blowing out of his backside. His replacement Shyan is giving Brentnall a run for his money, with his pace and strength.

You can never rule out our talisman and resident DJ 'Sizzers.' Only minutes after being upended in the box, and having a stonewall penalty turned down, he picks up the ball, twists, turns and dances his way through the defence before firing home a left-foot shot that nestles in the right-hand corner of the net. I punch the air in delight and relief and hug one of my subs. The lads have a massive pile on.

We see out the last few minutes superbly. Neil Diamond is cranked up in the changing room as the lads sing their hearts out. Our attitude and effort has been spot on. We've ground out a victory which is far more important to me than any 9-0 or 10-0 win.

Ravenshead have put a shift in. They've also been good hosts too. We all meet for a drink together at the Sherwood Ranger and watch the results come in on Soccer Saturday.

Man of the Match awarded by the Opposition: Callum Barratt

Thanks to Louise Dixon Photography for the images x

Shrewsbury Town 0-3 Charlton Athletic

It's Saturday 5th January 2019. I'm stood in the technical area at Keyworth United's Platt Lane ground, encouraging and cajoling my young team, as the excellent referee, John Sansum blows the final whistle. My team full of teenagers and local lads have defeated their opponents 9-0. It was only three months ago that our match was abandoned against the same team, on 86 minutes, following a serious injury to our brilliant 16-year-old winger - we were 3-2 down at the time. I'm as pleased as punch with our progress, as I scurry across the pitch in the direction of our goalkeeper, who has been outstanding for the team today.

Back in the changing room 'we' (the lads) crank up the toons. Clapham-born British grime artist Cadet booms out of Sticky junior's' sound system. I enquire as to whether it's 50 Cent and get shot down in flames. The celebrations continue in the clubhouse with close friends of mine who have come down to support and some parents of the 'Baby Squad.' The 'Keyworth Georgie Best' is potting a few pints and furiously smoking his way through a packet of Mayfair cigarettes. I have my one pint of Guinness before leaving the team to celebrate long into the night. I hear Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline being sung by the lads as I head out to my car. My son has bagged a hat-trick, and for that, I have to thank my mate Chris Thompson, who has mentored 'Georgie' over recent weeks. It's never an easy relationship between Dad and Lad, when father manages the team.

Tuesday evening is spent down at Green Lane, home to the famous Clifton All Whites, whose alumni include: Jermaine Jenas, Jermaine Pennant and Darren Huckerby. I've The Taxman for company. We spent a pleasant hour or so at tea time in the Packe Arms on the A60, just a few miles outside Loughborough town centre. Kimberley Miners' Welfare are tonight's visitors. I have a quick chat with KMW legendary secretary Stephen Hobster, before viewing the first half proceedings. The game is played at a face pace. Former Mansfield Town, Sheffield Utd and Blackburn Rovers midfielder, Lee Williamson, is strutting his stuff in the 'Kimbo' midfield. It's 0-0 at the break. The Taxman says he can smell a stalemate - Sticky's slightly more chipper and optimistic than that.

I catch up with a few Clifton folk at the break. My youngest lad played for the Under 19s for a few seasons, so it's a club that I hold dear to my heart. One of my all-time favourite characters on the Non-League scene, James 'Tosh' Turner is striding towards us. 'Tosh' always makes us feel welcome and is grinning from ear to ear. I predict that the final score will be 1-1 as he hurries off into the direction of the dugout.

The second half is scrappy and disjointed. The KMW bench get angry with the referee, quite why, I don't really know, as it's Clifton who are reduced to ten men after a wild challenge is deemed a red card. Incredibly, Clifton take the lead on 88 minutes, only to be pegged back deep into stoppage time. I'll collect my correct score winnings off Lord Turner of West Bridgford the next time I see him.

Thursday night is the highlight of the week (sorry Tosh). I'm drumming my fingers on the coffee table contemplating what to do next when I hear a familiar tune strike up on BBC One. It's Series 8 of the popular light entertainment show Death in Paradise. My old budgie Murphy Palmer used to love whistling the theme tune - God rest his soul. I end the evening watching a few re-runs of the cult BBC Two situation comedy Early Doors -"crime won't crack itself."

On Friday tea time I meet Ms Moon for a swift one in The Free Man on Carlton Hill, before moving onto the Lincoln Green run Brickyard. We settle in for the evening, with a long day lying ahead tomorrow.

We're on the road by 10:am. I see a Nottingham City bus advertising the Capital FM Breakfast Show. They play the same six records all day, on this excuse of a radio station. One of them is 'Don't You Worry Child' by Swedish House Mafia - I've written better lyrics on the toilet. If I find out that any of the football team, I manage, listen to Capital, I'll boot them out of the team!

We drive past the oldest Football League club in the World (Notts County). They have a massive six-pointer versus Colin Calderwood's Cambridge United today. God help them if they lose, as it will edge them closer to the trap door and into the murky waters of the Conference.

Sat Nav takes us down the M42, M6 and M54. Trumpy Bolton's favourite DJ, Graham Norton, is on flames today. He gets my toe tapping to 'Get Out of Your Lazy Bed', by Brighton-based Latin flavoured jazz band Matt Bianco.

I've booked us into a snazzy boutique hotel called Darwin's Kitchen, and have managed to negotiate a £30 discount - all that sales training hasn't gone to waste. We check-in before heading to a riverside pub called The Armoury that was recommended by 'Our Kid.' It doesn't disappoint as we both get stuck into a rump steak sandwich. Mine is accompanied by a superb pint of pale ale from the Salopian Brewery.

We take a stroll down the banks of the River Severn in an effort to walk off lunch. We jump into a taxi to save the hassle of catching a bus. The ground is a good hour's walk away from the town centre.

Shrewsbury is the county town of Shropshire, with a population of just over 70,000. It lies on the River Severn and has over 600 listed buildings. It suffered very little from bombings in the Second World War, so many of its medieval buildings remain intact. Notable people born in Shrewsbury include the biologist and evolutionary thinker Charles Darwin, Burnley and England 'keeper Joe Hart, Sheffield Wednesday and Scotland striker Steven Fletcher, the golfer Sandy Lyle who is a former British Open champion and US Masters winner. The broadcaster and gardener Percy Thrower used to live in the town.

Shrewsbury Town Football Club were formed in 1886. For 97 years they were based at their Gay Meadow ground, on the banks of the River Severn. Notable former players include: David Moyes, Nigel Pearson, David Pleat, John McGinlay and Neville Southall.

I collect our tickets and wander around the perimeter of the ground taking a few snaps whilst Ms Moon slopes off to Starbucks for another latte. It's £20 to enter the West Stand and £3 for a programme. The out-of-town Montgomery Waters Meadow Stadium lacks character. It reminds me of so many of the new builds such as Colchester United.

Ms Moon and I are as snug as a bug in rug on the back row of the stand out of the swirling wind. The Shrews are hovering in the nether regions of League One, and have, in my opinion, taken the harsh decision to sack John Askey. Relative novice Sam Ricketts has been swiftly recruited from nearby Wrexham.

High-flying Charlton are managed by Lee Bowyer. They have two of the hottest strikers in the League, in Lyle Taylor and Karlan Grant. The game has a brilliant ebb and flow about it, which is particularly pleasing on the eye for the neutral supporter. I'm sat next to a lovely, old, knowledgable gentleman, who gives me the heads up on Shrewsbury.

Charlton are electric going forward and have an end product, as well as pulling the Shrews' central defenders out of position. The lively ex AFC Wimbledon striker Lyle Taylor (was with Danny Cowley at Concord Rangers) puts them 1-0 up from a corner.

The Addicks are kept at bay by a virtuoso performance by Shrewsbury 'keeper Steve Arnold. Darren Pratley seizes on a mistake by former Lincoln City skipper Luke Waterfall, before smashing a shot into the top corner of the net. The industrious Grant dusts himself down, after being felled in the penalty area, to strike home the spot-kick and finally put the game to bed.

We exit the ground with five minutes remaining as we have a taxi booked so we can enjoy a few drinky poos in the town centre.

Attendance: 5,995 (518 from Charlton)

Man of the Match: Steve Arnold and Matt Bianco

Keyworth United Development 2-4 AFC Top Valley

It's the crack of dawn on Sunday 25th November, I've woken up to a banging and clanking of scaffolding being unloaded off a lorry outside the front window. I've no idea where I am. I sit bolt upright. What in good heavens is going off? Where the chuffing hell am I? I retrace my steps, oh, yes, that's right, Ms Moon and I had a night out on the cobbled streets, in the sleepy market town of Ross-on-Wye, in Herefordshire, after watching the Bulls of Hereford trounce F.C.United of Manchester 3-1 - the final score flattered the visitors.

We checked into the King's Head hotel at 5:30pm the previous evening and immediately slumped into posh Chesterfield leather armchairs, next to a roaring fire, in a cosy bar. Sticky Palms was quaffing Wye Valley IPA, Ms Moon was on the bubbles. We ventured out to a posh 'Spoons and a trendy cocktail bar called Leonard's at 39, before having a nightcap at the King's Head. Ms Moon went up to the room with strict instructions to tune the TV in for Match of the Day, whilst I was dispatched down the High Street to hunt down a kebab shop. The next thing I know it's 6am and some complete and utter buffoon is setting up a Christmas market stall outside our bedroom window.

I have a little moan as we check out, about the noise; it's met with a wry smile by the chap on reception. I have a two-hour kip in bed on our return to HQ at just after lunchtime. There's no trot around Nottingham for a couple of real ales - I'm fagged out folks.

Tuesday and Wednesday are spent at the East Midlands Conference Centre, in the grounds of the University of Nottingham, at a customer conference. Ideagen PLC, the company I'm proud to represent, have put on a couple of cracking speakers. I miss Dame Kelly Holmes at the evening gala dinner.  She spoke openly about her battles with depression and self-harming, as injuries threatened her career. I did manage to catch the British TV broadcaster, Royal Marine and marine biologist Monty Halls, who gave a very insightful speech about the interesting and dangerous life he has led, including a one night stay in Nottingham.

It's Friday evening and the end to another exhausting week. I cross over Carlton Road and swing a left at Tesco, a shop where I'm on first name terms with the girls on the till. I walk up Cavendish Road, the final stretch is so exhausting and hilly that even Holmes and Halls would struggle to kick on and negotiate the 1 in 16 gradient. I struggle up Westdale Lane, still gasping for air. I need to tick off a new micropub on Mapperley Tops called The Blues Dawg. There's a very friendly welcome from the landlord. All real ales are £3 per pint until 6pm. I slip across the road to meet Ms Moon for a quick sociable one at the Woodthorpe Top before settling in for another tortuous evening of TV with the talentless Holly Willoughby fronting the ghastly I'm a Celebrity (grumpy old man syndrome).

I feel like I've been hit by a bus on Saturday morning. When are Tesco going to remove that special offer 14.5% Shiraz from their finest range? I am so excited when I finally freshen up with a shower and a shave. I strut the catwalk (lounge floor) in my new off the shelf Keyworth United tracksuit kindly donated to all the boys by our sponsor Andrew Danzey. Ms Moon is mightily impressed.

I drive across to Keyworth, a village that I lived in for 45 years, a full three hours before kick-off, as there is so much to do. I'm nervous, excited and apprehensive as it's officially my first time in charge of a team in an adult league. Let me tell you the story.

I thought I was done and dusted with coaching when I finally hung up my manager's coat and scouting hat in 2014. Four years later I saw that the Development team was struggling and that the lads weren't enjoying their football. I offered my services to club vice-chairman Mark Ritchie. The plan was to begin the role next season. I was introduced to a guy called Chris Thompson who shared my vision and belief that one day the first team will field a side entirely made up of youngsters who have come through the youth policy. My remit is to find those youngsters and develop them by introducing them to men's football in the Notts Senior League Division Two.

Chris has overseen six wins and a draw in the last seven outings. He's finding it hard to let it go as he has a tremendous bond with the lads, but he already runs two teams as well as a senior role on the committee and overseeing his own business.

I take a deep breath as the 'Rolls Royce' turns into Platt Lane, the home of football. What a lad Chris is. The goals are up, the nets attached, the corner flags slotted in and all the shirts are hung up on coat hangers in number order. I grab a sausage cob from Lucy behind the food bar, before strolling up to pitch four where 'Thommo' is preparing his under 12s for a cup tie with Priory Celtic from Kimberley..

Notts County Girls Under 13s are playing a Keyworth United lads team on the adjacent pitch. I get chatting to a gentleman who mentions he was heavily involved in cricket coaching as a profession until retiring recently. His name is Trevor Tunnicliffe, a steady all-rounder for Nottinghamshire in the 1970s, who made 65 first-class appearances for the county He was a close friend of one of Sticky's heroes, the South African, Clive Rice. We watch an agonising penalty shootout which ends in tears for the Pies. I hope club owner Alan Hardy doesn't ask to see the two coaches first thing on Monday morning.

Some of my team begin to rock up including: Sizzers, 'The Krays', Woody and the 'Keyworth Georgie Best' (aka Sticky junior). We congregate in the bar as I interrogate each and every one of them about how many beers they had the previous night and what time they rolled in.

Sticky junior cranks up the toons in the changing room as the boys get pumped up for the visit of AFC Top Valley, a team that has lost one solitary game this season - it's going to be a big test for my young guns. Good news arrives from the Asda checkout on Loughborough Road, our outstanding 16-year-old centre-half, 'Dan' has finished his induction early and is available to play. I'm chuffed to bits that some of the Keyworth old guard have turned up to support us. Legendary managers Dave Fisk and Alan Jackson view proceedings.

I welcome our opponents and referee, before rallying the troops and sending them out to battle. My heart's racing and my blood pressure rising as I stride over to the dugout. The first half is a pulsating game of football. My lads are magnificent, together and play to the plan. After a few early scares, Keyworth's Callum Barratt picks up a loose ball 35 yards out from goal, he hits an outrageous shot which loops and dips over the 'keeper, hitting the underside of the bar, before nestling into the net. I don't celebrate, I just shake my head in disbelief before barking out instructions to Ronnie Kray.

We up the tempo and start to play some champagne football. A cross from the left is turned into the net by Shyan to put us 2-0 up. Incredibly the visitors, who have always been in the game and caused us plenty of problems, sky a penalty over the clubhouse and into the car park, minutes before the break.

Crikey moses, I'm going to have to keep the lads' feet on the floor; it'll go to one or two of their heads. I dish out lots of praise because they deserve it. We talk about the pitfalls and how important that next goal is. It arrives quickly and at the wrong end. Top Valley gain momentum and equalise. I try to freshen things up by throwing three 16-year-olds on. But the visitors are canny and cocksure. They score a brilliant free kick and hit a purple patch before putting the game to bed.

Both teams have given their all, with the game played in a fantastic spirit, superbly reffed by Matt Curtis too. We're all bitterly disappointed in the changing room afterwards, but you learn a lot more from losing than you do from winning. Our next game is in a fortnight, a local derby versus Cotgrave; now that will be tasty.

Attendance: 31

Man of the Match - Chris Thompson for the last two months