Don’t let the chill of mid-October fool you—Dales Lane is about to heat up like a kettle left too long. Rushall Olympic and Cleethorpes Town, two clubs living in the shadows of the Non League Premier - Northern’s leading lights, meet with more on the line than the standings might suggest. When there’s barely daylight between 10th and 16th—two points, if you’re counting, and both sides most definitely are—you get the kind of six-pointer that’s less about champagne football and more about the survival instincts that keep the league’s heart pumping through the autumn grind.

Rushall Olympic, currently perched (or perhaps clinging) at 16th, have been taking it on the chin lately. Their recent run has been the kind of horror show that keeps managers up at night. Think: four straight losses, zero goals scored in the last three, and a defense leakier than your granddad’s raincoat. A 0-4 drubbing at Bamber Bridge, followed by tame exits in cup competitions, has stripped any gloss off their early-season promise. In fact, in their last ten league matches, the men from Dales Lane have averaged less than half a goal per game. If you’re searching for attacking fireworks, this hasn’t been your bonfire night.

Contrast that with Cleethorpes Town, whose flashes of form—back-to-back 3-0 wins in mid-September—have been dulled slightly by a pair of draws and a loss since. Still, they look a fraction more convincing, with a better scoring average and a knack for picking up points even when not at their best. For Cleethorpes, a win here would mean more than just climbing a rung or two; it would be a statement that the playoff conversation needn’t happen without them.

So, how does this actually play out on the pitch? Let’s be honest—Rushall are desperate for a spark. Their attack has been anonymous lately, living off scraps and finding little joy. Expect them to start with more edge, maybe even a tinker with formation or personnel, searching for a formula that delivers more than polite possession. Their defense, though, needs to remember the basics—close the space, stay compact, for heaven’s sake don’t gift any early Christmas presents in the box.

For Cleethorpes, the question is whether they can rediscover the cutting edge they showed in those emphatic September wins. Their recent scoring has slowed, but they’ve looked much more organized than the hosts. The midfield battle will be pivotal: if Cleethorpes can dictate the tempo, keep the ball moving, and pin Rushall deep, they’ll fancy their chances to nick a goal or two from set pieces or quick transitions.

Key players? For Rushall, keep an eye on whoever is tasked with leading the line; it’s a role that has been more about thankless running than glory in recent weeks. Someone has to be the difference-maker, the one who finally turns a half-chance into a headline. For Cleethorpes, watch their wide men—if they can stretch Rushall and provide service, the visitors will find joy. And let’s not understate the threat from Cleethorpes’ midfield runners, who have a knack for arriving late and causing chaos.

Tactics could come down to who blinks first. If Rushall bunker in, we might be in for a war of attrition, one moment of quality or calamity deciding it. If Cleethorpes get on the front foot early and force Rushall to chase, those home nerves could turn jangly fast. Given both sides’ recent results and what’s at stake, don’t expect an all-out slugfest—these are teams trying to build, not break, their seasons.

So what’s it all mean? With only two points between them, this is one of those quietly crucial encounters that shapes the story come spring. For Rushall, it’s about halting the freefall and showing the faithful that there’s more to this team than damage control. For Cleethorpes, it’s the chance to push upward, to suggest that mid-table mediocrity isn’t their calling card just yet.

If you’re a neutral, maybe you’re hoping for chaos. If you’re partisan, you’re just hoping for ninety minutes of conviction. And if you’re at Dales Lane on Saturday, hold onto your hat. Because matches at the bottom have a funny way of producing the most honest, hard-fought football—where desperation and hope dance together, and the scripts are written not by stars, but by players just stubborn enough to believe that this, of all days, could be theirs.