The third home match in a row, but the first one to be on a Sunday. I guess it was so that people could watch the Wales/England match on the box at 3pm on Saturday. Personally I'd rather watch paint dry, not that I am particularly unpatriotic - but most of the players really look as if they'd rather be somewhere else most of the time. If they can't be bothered, then I'm not sure I can be either. Never mind, there's an exciting England/Ghana friendly on later this week (can you wait?!!) - although most of the 'first team' seem to have been let off (including the new 'permanent' captain) so they can go home and play with their consoles or send dodgy texts to young ladies who aren't their girlfriends.
Anyway, back to some proper football (rather than an 'Oooh blimey, how much did we pay for Wembley, better get our money back' fixture). The weather was warm, always a sign that, depending on your position in the table, the season is either sputtering out or racing towards an exciting climax. For us, it isn't quite clear yet. A defeat would probably (if not mathematically) mean our season was winding down, a draw was not really any good (especially looking at some of our remaining fixtures), only a win would do. In fact, as I drove down through sunny Beds, Northants and Oxon, I wondered about my determination to go away to Bury next Saturday if we did anything other than win today. It's been an expensive month, as well as the away matches I've shelled out for next season's Season Ticket. I'm sure those around me in the East Stand are delighted. Another season of my bad singing, bellowing at the ref and mood swings awaits them!
Got to the East Stand car park a little later than I hoped, (I'd had to go to a surgeon to have an arm and a leg removed to pay for the petrol) and doubted if there would be any spaces left. But luckily a straggler from the morning's car boot sale and his family were still packing his white van full of no-brandname cooking utensils and plastic toys, giving me a space to slide into. I amused myself watching them putting all the tat back into the van while I ate my lunch. Watching someone else work is so relaxing! The radio said there were no changes to the Yellows team, with Woodley coming onto the bench to replace the departed Jack Midson.
The prematch was enlivened by some more of the acrobatics cum cheerleading that had been on show at the Cheltenham game. Not really my type of thing, if I'm honest. When the teams ran out, I was delighted to see that Burton were wearing white, and hadn't done a Torquay and stuck to their yellow strip. We lost the toss and started by kicking towards the East Stand.
We have started quite well in many matches recently, but often find it impossible to make the superiority count. This time we were ahead after four minutes. Steve MacLean picked up a ball from Harry Worley and hit it goalwards. It took a deflection off a Burton defender and beat the Burton keeper (whose surname I'm not even going to attempt - let's just call him Adam!) by his right hand post. A great start!
The ref now started to have an effect on things. He was letting Burton players (especially Darren Moore, the very large central defender) use quite a lot of physical muscle to win the ball. Now that isn't something I'm against in general, I don't like the way that football is becoming a non contact sport. But enough is enough. He should really have at least tried to stop it happening, as it set the tone for the rest of the game. Craddock (I think) was booked for standing in front of a Burton free kick to stop it being taken quickly. He wasn't subtle about it, not even pretending to be organising a wall or something, and a Burton player (one of their center-halves) was booked for a tackle no worse than many that had gone before. It was followed by worse tackles that didn't get punished at all, like one that sent Paul McLaren crashing to the floor.
Craddock put a header wide, but Burton were coming back into it. They put one wide when they should have done better, and there was a scramble in the Oxford box where the ball was under nobody's control for what seemed like minutes! Now, if I were a lazy blogger, I could have written that the ball was pinging around the penalty area like a pinball. Now let me tell you, I have a (small) collection of (quite large) pinball machines. Yes, really. I'll show you in a future post sometime. When playing pinball the aim is to have the ball under control. By nudging the machine, by aiming your shots, by knowing what you are doing. It is very rarely some sort of random, multidirectional lottery as to where the ball ends up. Which is what it looked like in our penalty area. So it wasn't like pinball at all. The equivalent might be to say when you lose control of the pinball, to say that 'It was just like a football match'. That's not true either. So there! Anyway, if anyone was controlling any type of ball at all, it was Burton. They didn't look hugely dangerous (except when tackling!) but we had started to play the ball 'long' (Translation: hoof it anywhere), which didn't help - the ball kept coming back at us. Craddock looked as if he had sprung the Brewers offside trap when Beano put him through as half time loomed, but the lino had other ideas. Drat.
Half time came with us one to the good, but the match pretty even. There was more gymnastics, which was generously applauded. No random blokes kicking the ball at the crossbar. Good.
Paul McLaren didn't come out for the second half, being replaced by Josh Payne. I guess he was suffering the effects of that challenge in the first half. Payne is fast becoming an excellent footballer, one I am sure we will see a lot of next season, so that looked ike a sensible move. I was mildly surprised that Tom Craddock hadn't been subbed as well. He had been having a good game, but had been getting increasingly wound up. I was worried we wouldn't finish with eleven men, the ref being so inconsistent.
The first significant event of the half was a stray Oxford hand (Jake Wright I think) waving about in the air and getting a touch of the ball perilously close to the Yellows penalty area. The free kick seemed to take an age to take, and when it did the Burton player just lobbed it weakly into Ryan Clarke's arms. Feeble.
We than went two up. The ball was hit up to Beano on the left hand side of the the Burton penalty area. He was being marked by Darren Moore, who foolishly let the ball bounce. As he often does, Beano managed to get hold of the bouncing ball and got goal side of the huge Moore, who brought him down. Probably the easiest decision of the afternoon for the ref. Penalty - definitely. Red card (dneying a goal scoring opportunity) - certainly. Moore knew what was coming, and took it well. Craddock took the penalty (despite MacLean wresting him for the ball! Sort it out lads!), and he to took it well. He beat Adam L easily, putting us two up.
Burton looked like a beaten team with half an hour still to go. Heslop almost headed a third and Payne blasted one over the bar. Clarke went down to gather the ball to foil one of the very rare Burton attacks and from his throw out, the Us put together a lovely move ending in a great cross from Tonkin that picked out Craddock, who scuffed his shot. A pity - it would have been the best-worked goal of the game by some way. MacLean also spurned an excellent chance when he found himself one-on-one against the Burton keeper afer some nice crisp passing, and Clarke came out to gather at a Burton players feet in what was their last meaningful attack of the match.
Burton were soon down to nine men, with their other centre back tackling Beano and earning himself a second yellow. The red mist descended and Beano got a yellow as well. Very wisely, he was soon taken off and replaced with Hackney - who came on and looked lively immediately. With only ten minutes or so left against nine men, Oxford played the ball across the field probing for an opening. Some of the more vocal members of the crowd wanted the ball forward quicker (but them they'd been saying that since the fourth minute!), but the patient play produced two great chances for Craddock that he couldn't take. But eventually the Burton defence cracked.
Hackney to Craddock on the right hand side of the penalty area, round the keeper and unselfishly across the face of the goal to Steve MacLean, who gratefully accepted the chance. 3-0. A couple of minutes of injury time when we looked more likely to score than Burton and it was all over.
The crowd of over 7,100 (about 250 from Burton I'd guess) had seen a decent win albeit against a fairly poor Burton team who had only showed any quality in small patches. Their supporters must be worried. We were encouraged by the clean sheet (the first one at home since early September!!!), and another good performance.
A good run home in the extra hour's sunlight.
Thoughts:
The glowing embers of the season are still alive.
Heslop had a good match, as did most of the team. I am getting to be a bit of a Payne fan and Worley's distribution was much improved.
I probably lost count, but the ref managed to dish out 7 yellow cards and two reds in a game that wasn't at all dirty! He did get the major decsions right though as far as I could see - just a bit card happy...
The bright lights of Bury are beckoning...
Oxford United, Stereo Photography, Old Amusement Machines, Odd Musical Instruments and more.
Sunday 27 March 2011
Saturday 19 March 2011
A motley Crewe (L2)
It's a bit odd the way that the fixtures have ended up in this part of the season. The natural order of things is a home game followed by an away game. Not away, away, away followed by home, home, home as the March fixtures have been. So it was the second trip down to Grenoble Road in a week. I could only hope that it would be better than Tuesday night's pathetic showing against Stevenage.
The pre-match news was that there were five changes in the starting lineup from that match. In came Batt and Tonks for Kinniborough and Purkiss (who didn't make the bench), Beano for Midson, new boy Ryan Burge for Clist (who also didn't make the bench) and Heslop for Payne. To be honest, there was nobody who could have been assured of their place after Tuesday. The rumours at the ground were that Midson was off on loan (Barnet) and that Simon Clist might also be shipped out. Kinniborough and Purkiss might be looking for another club in the summer as well, I think.
The away match at Crewe had ended up as a 1-1 draw, with a Crewe winner being disallowed after the lino was reminded of the offside rules and Beano being sent off for a second yellow - something that everyone in Gresty Road could see was going to happen as he charged hell for leather towards a Crewe player! It had been a decent point. On their travels recently, Crewe had been poor - not winning in seven. Not that that makes any difference, Gillingham hadn't won away since man learned to walk upright and we duly help them to get rid of that particular jinx! Crewe had also won three of their last four. Hmm. There's one word that seems to sum up League 2 this season. Inconsistent. not just us, but many of the other teams in and around the playoffs.
It was a sunny, calm day down in deepest Oxfordshire. Which was a good thing as a bit of wind would have meant that Crewe striker Donaldson wouldn't have been able to stand up at all. As it was, he kept falling to the floor for no explicable reason all afternoon!
Crewe obviously hadn't done their homework. First of all, they won the toss and then let us kick towards the fence end in the first half. More seriously they hadn't been told that there is a simple way to win against us. (This is publicly avaialable information for anyone who has seen us this season, but any opposing managers who find this a useful tip, please make a donation to Marie Curie Cancer Care, our charity at the ground today). The secret is....
... challenge us for the ball, all over the pitch, often in pairs.
It's that easy. Nasty, in-yer-face, scrappy teams with lttle skill have done this to us all season (Stockport did it twice for God's sake) and we have rolled over. The teams that play 'better football' and try to take us on that way find us a much more difficult proposition. Mind you, when we played Crewe at their place, they thought we were one of the nasty, scrappy teams! I presume that there were some teams (cough, Stevenage, cough) they hadn't come across by then!
Anyway, Crewe played it pretty. That made for an open game, and it was pretty even for the first quarter of the game. Clarke made a decent (if fairly regulation) save, Crewe headed one wide, we had a couple of not terribly accurate shots at the other end. It wasn't brilliant, but it was 1000% better than Tuesday. Heslop was looking much better going forward and Burge (why does that name give me the shivers?!) started slowly, but gradually found the pace of the game and started to look good, actually looking up before passing! In fact all of the midfield were challenging for the ball with an enthusiasm unseen only four days ago. Encouraging.
After half an hour, we went ahead. As always, from my vantage point in the East stand things are a bit confused up the other end, but this is how I saw it. Beano and Craddock were very close together (TC closer to the goal) when Beano poked the ball netwards. It wasn't the best strike he's ever made, but the goalie seemd completely wrongfooted and the ball bumbled apologetically into the net with him totally stranded. It looked as if the goalie had been expecting Craddock to have the ball at his feet and wasn't watching Beano properly. At least that what it looked like. Was Craddock in an offside position? Impossible to say from where I was. If he was, was he interfering with play? Probably. But there was no flag, and Beano could claim his fist goal for quite a while. He was relieved, we were relieved. There wasn't a huge protest from the Crewe players, which maybe tells you something.
Every time anyone went near Donaldson, he went down as if he had been shot. The ref bought it every single time, and every time he got a free kick. A few minutes after we'd taken the lead, he was challenged by Jake Wright on the left hand side of our penalty area. Now it was certainly a foul this time although Donaldson made the biggest meal of it that you can imagine. A whole banquet in fact. Wright was booked (a bit harshly) and then Maclean in a display of complete stupidity hoofed the ball right across the pitch. Unsurprisingly he too went in the book. I have no idea at all why he did it. We broke away from the resulting free kick, but play was halted when the ref noticed Beano lying prostrate in our penalty area. He'd collided with the right hand goalpost with a sickening thump. Those around me said he'd been pushed by a Crewe player. I claim a 'Wenger' - I didn't see it. The ref obviously didn't either, as he took no action. Luckily Captain Beano is made of stern stuff and soon recovered. The half ended with us generally on top, and growing in confidence.
Half time. I took some strong hallucinogenic drugs as soon as the whistle blew. When they kicked in, I was teated to the sight of a crossbar challenge involving the usual ne'er-do-wells from the east stand, Timmy 'Wackaday' Mallet and a giant daffodil. Psychedelic, man.
The second half started much as the first had finished. Neither team made any changes to personnel, formation or tactics. The referee was having (let's be kind) a bit of a stinker. The Crewe goalie rushed out to smother the ball and slid out of the left hand side of his penalty area, still carrying it. The east stand saw it, the south stand saw it, the north stand saw it, all the players from both teams saw it. The ref and his lino didn't. Incredible. The play was fairly end to end, although neither team was creating clear cut chances.
Potter and Payne came on for Craddock and McLaren. Cradock's substitution was understandable. I know McLaren is (in footballing terms) getting on a bit, but I fear for our defence when he doesn't complete the whole match. It was (as always) a double substitution 15-20 minutes into the second half. As regular as clockwork. Potter loked lively as soon as he came on, and Payne slotted right into the midfield.
Ten minutes later, another midfielder played a huge part in our second goal. Ryan Burge challenged for the ball and won it well. He ended up on his arse, but was alert enough to see Beano making a run, got up, got the ball and passed it properly. Beano tok it with all the confidence of a man who has broken a goal-scoring drought and planted the ball in the right hand corner of the Crewe goal. Great stuff. An on-song Beano is going to help us keep our faint play-off hopes alive.
Burge was also finding his feet (unlike Donaldson, who was still diving about like a ballerina with the vapours), and almost played Potter in. If he can play like this, he also will be a valuable asset.
The ref was starting to get a bit fed up with timewasting by us, but it was very mild compared to some of the stuff we have seen from teams at the Kassam this season. The unlucky man to push him over the edge was Tonkin. He took no more time than is usual, but got a yellow from Mr Boyeson. (Boyeson Ivy, whoah oah oh).
Our defence were standing pretty firm (although crosses were still coming in a bit too easily for my liking), and a cross-cum-shot by Heslop was clearly deflected out for a corner to us. Apparently not. Again, everyone apart from the officials had seen it quite clearly. Clayton Donaldson had an opportunity to pull one back for Crewe, but his feet are no better at kicking a ball than they are at keeping him upright and he hit the side netting when he should have done better. Worley got a yellow for something (looking at the ref in a funny way, probably), and Hackney came on for MacLean, who had looked much more lively than in recent outings. The match went into injury time with us looking comfortable and for the most part on the front foot. Crewe did score a scruffy deflected goal in the dying seconds (no home clean sheet for us since early September!!) but it was to little too late and the ref blew to bring the match to the end.
A funny match. At times in the first half, it rather felt like a pre-season friendly. The crowd were quiet (as was I, but I've got a sore throat. I hope you don't catch it by reading this blog. Computer viruses - very infectious!), the sun was warm, there wasn't a huge amount of intensity on the pitch. But it got better as it went on. A fairly quick drive home, this time avoiding The Great Roadworks of Northampton.
Thoughts:
Now two points off the playoffs, which looks good - other results went pretty much our way.
But other teams have games and goal difference in hand, which doesn't look so great.
Much, much better than Tuesday. Nowhere near perfect, but better.
Burge looks like he could make a positive difference, but early days yet.
CW is obviously thinking about next season. I hope he doesn't go mad and throw the baby out with the bathwater.
I still think we'll end up short - hope I'm very wrong.
Barnet and Stockport - goodbye!
For some reason that I don't know, next weekend's fixture is on Sunday. Against Burton, who will be scrapping for points, desperately. See you there.
The pre-match news was that there were five changes in the starting lineup from that match. In came Batt and Tonks for Kinniborough and Purkiss (who didn't make the bench), Beano for Midson, new boy Ryan Burge for Clist (who also didn't make the bench) and Heslop for Payne. To be honest, there was nobody who could have been assured of their place after Tuesday. The rumours at the ground were that Midson was off on loan (Barnet) and that Simon Clist might also be shipped out. Kinniborough and Purkiss might be looking for another club in the summer as well, I think.
The away match at Crewe had ended up as a 1-1 draw, with a Crewe winner being disallowed after the lino was reminded of the offside rules and Beano being sent off for a second yellow - something that everyone in Gresty Road could see was going to happen as he charged hell for leather towards a Crewe player! It had been a decent point. On their travels recently, Crewe had been poor - not winning in seven. Not that that makes any difference, Gillingham hadn't won away since man learned to walk upright and we duly help them to get rid of that particular jinx! Crewe had also won three of their last four. Hmm. There's one word that seems to sum up League 2 this season. Inconsistent. not just us, but many of the other teams in and around the playoffs.
It was a sunny, calm day down in deepest Oxfordshire. Which was a good thing as a bit of wind would have meant that Crewe striker Donaldson wouldn't have been able to stand up at all. As it was, he kept falling to the floor for no explicable reason all afternoon!
Crewe obviously hadn't done their homework. First of all, they won the toss and then let us kick towards the fence end in the first half. More seriously they hadn't been told that there is a simple way to win against us. (This is publicly avaialable information for anyone who has seen us this season, but any opposing managers who find this a useful tip, please make a donation to Marie Curie Cancer Care, our charity at the ground today). The secret is....
... challenge us for the ball, all over the pitch, often in pairs.
It's that easy. Nasty, in-yer-face, scrappy teams with lttle skill have done this to us all season (Stockport did it twice for God's sake) and we have rolled over. The teams that play 'better football' and try to take us on that way find us a much more difficult proposition. Mind you, when we played Crewe at their place, they thought we were one of the nasty, scrappy teams! I presume that there were some teams (cough, Stevenage, cough) they hadn't come across by then!
Anyway, Crewe played it pretty. That made for an open game, and it was pretty even for the first quarter of the game. Clarke made a decent (if fairly regulation) save, Crewe headed one wide, we had a couple of not terribly accurate shots at the other end. It wasn't brilliant, but it was 1000% better than Tuesday. Heslop was looking much better going forward and Burge (why does that name give me the shivers?!) started slowly, but gradually found the pace of the game and started to look good, actually looking up before passing! In fact all of the midfield were challenging for the ball with an enthusiasm unseen only four days ago. Encouraging.
After half an hour, we went ahead. As always, from my vantage point in the East stand things are a bit confused up the other end, but this is how I saw it. Beano and Craddock were very close together (TC closer to the goal) when Beano poked the ball netwards. It wasn't the best strike he's ever made, but the goalie seemd completely wrongfooted and the ball bumbled apologetically into the net with him totally stranded. It looked as if the goalie had been expecting Craddock to have the ball at his feet and wasn't watching Beano properly. At least that what it looked like. Was Craddock in an offside position? Impossible to say from where I was. If he was, was he interfering with play? Probably. But there was no flag, and Beano could claim his fist goal for quite a while. He was relieved, we were relieved. There wasn't a huge protest from the Crewe players, which maybe tells you something.
Every time anyone went near Donaldson, he went down as if he had been shot. The ref bought it every single time, and every time he got a free kick. A few minutes after we'd taken the lead, he was challenged by Jake Wright on the left hand side of our penalty area. Now it was certainly a foul this time although Donaldson made the biggest meal of it that you can imagine. A whole banquet in fact. Wright was booked (a bit harshly) and then Maclean in a display of complete stupidity hoofed the ball right across the pitch. Unsurprisingly he too went in the book. I have no idea at all why he did it. We broke away from the resulting free kick, but play was halted when the ref noticed Beano lying prostrate in our penalty area. He'd collided with the right hand goalpost with a sickening thump. Those around me said he'd been pushed by a Crewe player. I claim a 'Wenger' - I didn't see it. The ref obviously didn't either, as he took no action. Luckily Captain Beano is made of stern stuff and soon recovered. The half ended with us generally on top, and growing in confidence.
Half time. I took some strong hallucinogenic drugs as soon as the whistle blew. When they kicked in, I was teated to the sight of a crossbar challenge involving the usual ne'er-do-wells from the east stand, Timmy 'Wackaday' Mallet and a giant daffodil. Psychedelic, man.
The second half started much as the first had finished. Neither team made any changes to personnel, formation or tactics. The referee was having (let's be kind) a bit of a stinker. The Crewe goalie rushed out to smother the ball and slid out of the left hand side of his penalty area, still carrying it. The east stand saw it, the south stand saw it, the north stand saw it, all the players from both teams saw it. The ref and his lino didn't. Incredible. The play was fairly end to end, although neither team was creating clear cut chances.
Potter and Payne came on for Craddock and McLaren. Cradock's substitution was understandable. I know McLaren is (in footballing terms) getting on a bit, but I fear for our defence when he doesn't complete the whole match. It was (as always) a double substitution 15-20 minutes into the second half. As regular as clockwork. Potter loked lively as soon as he came on, and Payne slotted right into the midfield.
Ten minutes later, another midfielder played a huge part in our second goal. Ryan Burge challenged for the ball and won it well. He ended up on his arse, but was alert enough to see Beano making a run, got up, got the ball and passed it properly. Beano tok it with all the confidence of a man who has broken a goal-scoring drought and planted the ball in the right hand corner of the Crewe goal. Great stuff. An on-song Beano is going to help us keep our faint play-off hopes alive.
Burge was also finding his feet (unlike Donaldson, who was still diving about like a ballerina with the vapours), and almost played Potter in. If he can play like this, he also will be a valuable asset.
The ref was starting to get a bit fed up with timewasting by us, but it was very mild compared to some of the stuff we have seen from teams at the Kassam this season. The unlucky man to push him over the edge was Tonkin. He took no more time than is usual, but got a yellow from Mr Boyeson. (Boyeson Ivy, whoah oah oh).
Our defence were standing pretty firm (although crosses were still coming in a bit too easily for my liking), and a cross-cum-shot by Heslop was clearly deflected out for a corner to us. Apparently not. Again, everyone apart from the officials had seen it quite clearly. Clayton Donaldson had an opportunity to pull one back for Crewe, but his feet are no better at kicking a ball than they are at keeping him upright and he hit the side netting when he should have done better. Worley got a yellow for something (looking at the ref in a funny way, probably), and Hackney came on for MacLean, who had looked much more lively than in recent outings. The match went into injury time with us looking comfortable and for the most part on the front foot. Crewe did score a scruffy deflected goal in the dying seconds (no home clean sheet for us since early September!!) but it was to little too late and the ref blew to bring the match to the end.
A funny match. At times in the first half, it rather felt like a pre-season friendly. The crowd were quiet (as was I, but I've got a sore throat. I hope you don't catch it by reading this blog. Computer viruses - very infectious!), the sun was warm, there wasn't a huge amount of intensity on the pitch. But it got better as it went on. A fairly quick drive home, this time avoiding The Great Roadworks of Northampton.
Thoughts:
Now two points off the playoffs, which looks good - other results went pretty much our way.
But other teams have games and goal difference in hand, which doesn't look so great.
Much, much better than Tuesday. Nowhere near perfect, but better.
Burge looks like he could make a positive difference, but early days yet.
CW is obviously thinking about next season. I hope he doesn't go mad and throw the baby out with the bathwater.
I still think we'll end up short - hope I'm very wrong.
Barnet and Stockport - goodbye!
For some reason that I don't know, next weekend's fixture is on Sunday. Against Burton, who will be scrapping for points, desperately. See you there.
Wednesday 16 March 2011
Staying Down vs Stevenage (L2)
The weekend win against Port Vale had raised hopes of a late season charge towards the playoffs, so I set off for the Kassam after work with hope in my heart (to coin a phrase). It was slightly tempered by the memory of the recent trip to the Lamex Stadium which had been a terrible match (a 0-0 stalemate), but boosted by the fact that this was the first of three consecutive home games.
Early enough to get into the East Stand car park, I sat eating my sarnie pondering on what the team should or might be. Stevenage are a big, physical team - well drilled in the black arts of niggling fouls and timewasting. We could either take them on at their own game, or we could play to our own strengths. I hoped we'd take the latter option, as we aren't (whatever some other managers might like to say) a physical team. When the team was announced on the radio, Hackney and Potter had been dropped to the bench to be replaced by MacLean and Craddock. To me, this spelled immediate trouble. MacLean, Craddock and Midson are all really central strikers. At least that's where they play best. A midfield of Clist, Payne and McLaren looked narrow as well. Does 4-3-3 really work with the players we have? I guess the answer, looking back at the season so far, is 'sometimes'. Personally I'd have preferred to keep Hackney or Potter in the team at the expense of one of the central strikers.
Ah well. Let's see. Into the stadium - the pitch looked much better (and much wider!) than some of those we've seen recently on our away travels. The Stevenage section was a little fuller than last time - about 200 or so. Must be the appeal of the Football League! The Stevenage team had players all over the shop, many playing out of position due to their injury problems, with various members of the coaching staff on the bench. Or in the case of Maamria, on the touchline. In his playing kit. Poor. The ref soon told him to go and put a different top on, so that he didn't confuse matters on the pitch. He went and put a light grey jumper on over his white shirt, not helping much. The ref should have insisted that he wore something else, but didn't. A minor incident, but typical of the chippy Stevenage attitude.
We kicked off, and for the first ten minutes or so we looked the more adventurous team, without actually looking threatening. How many times this season have I typed that! Stevenage had started out very defensively, looking to close the Oxford players down quickly. Our players had obviously been expecting that and tried to stand firm, MacLaren's mistimed tackle getting him booked. The longer the half went on, the stonger Stevenage got - they were justifiably confident in their ability to snuff out any threats on their goal. Half an hour gone, and we went one down. A Stevenage attack down the right wing, lead to a deep cross. An unmarked Henry (not a vacuum cleaner) headed the ball across the face of goal. From my vantage point in the East stand it looked as if it had gone straight in - but the tannoy announced it as a Harry Worley own goal. Whatever.
The cross had been made too easily, the man was unmarked. Poor defending. Again.
As a crowd, we aren't too phased by going one down any more. It's happened before this season, and we've come back to win. But around me in the stand, there was some amazement at the poor quality of our play. We didn't look like scoring, and we hadn't looked like keeping a clean sheet. The midfield was being surrendered and the attack might have been Midson on his own for all the effect that Craddock and the lacklustre MacLean were having. Tactically we had gradually slid into the 'hoof it at Midson' routine. Even when he won it (which wasn't very often against the large Stevenage players) there was no fellow striker there to pick it up, no attacking midfielder running through to pick it up. We were one down, and looking like we wouldn't score if we played for a week.
If I have a criticism of CW it is that he isn't quick enough to make changes when they are needed. Changes in formation, changes in personnel, changes in tactics. There really should have been some sort of alteration. Half time loomed. We still hadn't had a decent shot, Stevenage looked the more likely to score. No changes. We just kept on doing the same things. A bit of passing it about - mostly backwards and sideways - until the player in posession either lost the ball or was so lacking in options that it was just booted aimlessly forward. We have to be better than that. We ARE better than that - we've seen it. But the ball kept going in the air, sooner or later. It kept bouncing off Midson, or going stright to a white shirt, or going into touch.
The one amusing spot in all this was the traditional Stevenage time-out, which happened after about 35 minutes. A player surprisingly (!) went down off the ball as if he were shot. Out came the drinks. The Stevenage players went for their tactical talk. The drinks bottles had been waiting on the sidelines for them, the crowd had been singing 'Drinks in a minute, you're getting drinks in a minute'. The ref knew what was happening, and was clearly unhappy - but couldn't do anything about it. Or could he? Once the 'drinks break' was over, he kept the 'injured' Stevenage player waiting on the sidelines for as long as he possibly could. Much to the wrath of the odious Westley and his flunkeys, and the amusement of the crowd. Well done, ref. Maybe a yellow card for 'simulation' or 'ungentlemanly conduct' might persuade them to stop doing it? Anyway, it came back to haunt them. The ref added four minutes injury time to the half, and in the last of those minutes Oxford undeservedly drew level. A bit of unconvincing head tennis near the Stevenage goal lead to Josh Payne jumping for a ball and being clattered into by a white shirted defender. A bit soft, but a penalty.
Craddock stepped up and scored down the middle(ish). As soon as the restart restarted,it stopped. Half time.
1-1. We hadn't had a shot in anger apart from the penalty, and that had been given away by Stevenage rather than earned by us. We had tried to play Stevenage at their own game and failed. Despite that, we hadn't changed what we were doing. A half time bollocking and a couple of substitutions might sort it out. Cross bar challenge - people who didn't know when their birthdays were.
The teams came out. No changes for us. Had the goal just before the half time break papered over the cracks in the dressing room? Oh oops. A couple of minutes gone and we were behind again. The central defence went AWOL, and ex triallist Reid put Stevenage 2-1 up. A nice finish, but how much time and space had he been given?!
We were now behind, and still didn't look like scoring. The Oxford bench settled down for a snooze. The players on the pitch gave each other hospital passes and practiced their hoofing skills. The crowd couldn't believe what they were seeing. Wright had a half chance from a corner but couldn't make decent contact.
Then what a surprise, as if it was pre-decided on came Hackney and Potter on the hour mark, replacing Craddock and Payne. Great, some width. We'd get the ball on the floor, send it wide and get some crosses in for Midson and MacLean. No we wouldn't. Potter couldn't get the ball out wide and resorted to having to come inside to get a sniff of it. When he did he went sideways most of the time. His team mates just stood and looked at him. Hackney stayed gamely on the wing, and was rewarded with absolutely nothing. The personnel had changed, the pattern of play hadn't. We still played it to players with their backs to goal, with no support. We still lumped it up the pitch to Midson. Stevenage looked like they might score, we didn't. Beano came on for Midson, it should have been MacLean (who has been very poor for several matches) and didn't make any difference at all. Potter had a weak shot vaguely towards goal. My granny could have saved it, as Geoff Boycott might say. Stevenage then saw the match out as easily as we had on Saturday.
The team left the pitch to some half-hearted boos, but mostly to a stoney silence. We'd got exactly what we deserved. Nothing. Stevenage, for all their niggly rule-stretching, had been the better team. More lively, stronger in defence, playing to their attributes and not worrying too much about their opponents.
Into the car, and back home. My night was complete when the road between Northampton and home was closed for roadworks meaning a 20-minute detour. What a rubbish night that was!
As I drove through the nether regions of Northamptonshire, my thoughts were:
That's it. No playoffs for us this year. Mathematically maybe. But the way that team played tonight - forget it.
The same weaknesses we have shown all season came together again. Let's depress ourselves and list them:
Poor movement off the ball all over the pitch.
Too many passes that don't actually make a difference.
Not enough shots on goal. We didn't actually bother the goalie once all night.
Not flexible enough with tactics, formation or subs.
Players not quick enough on the ball, in thought or deed.
Inability to play a wide game.
Inability to defend convincingly.
There's probably more, but I'm too down to go on.
Crewe on Saturday. I'll go more in hope than expectation. I hope that CW impresses on the players that they are now playing for their places in next season's squad. There are quite a few who will be off to pastures new. On the basis of last night's performance, it will be most of them.
Early enough to get into the East Stand car park, I sat eating my sarnie pondering on what the team should or might be. Stevenage are a big, physical team - well drilled in the black arts of niggling fouls and timewasting. We could either take them on at their own game, or we could play to our own strengths. I hoped we'd take the latter option, as we aren't (whatever some other managers might like to say) a physical team. When the team was announced on the radio, Hackney and Potter had been dropped to the bench to be replaced by MacLean and Craddock. To me, this spelled immediate trouble. MacLean, Craddock and Midson are all really central strikers. At least that's where they play best. A midfield of Clist, Payne and McLaren looked narrow as well. Does 4-3-3 really work with the players we have? I guess the answer, looking back at the season so far, is 'sometimes'. Personally I'd have preferred to keep Hackney or Potter in the team at the expense of one of the central strikers.
Ah well. Let's see. Into the stadium - the pitch looked much better (and much wider!) than some of those we've seen recently on our away travels. The Stevenage section was a little fuller than last time - about 200 or so. Must be the appeal of the Football League! The Stevenage team had players all over the shop, many playing out of position due to their injury problems, with various members of the coaching staff on the bench. Or in the case of Maamria, on the touchline. In his playing kit. Poor. The ref soon told him to go and put a different top on, so that he didn't confuse matters on the pitch. He went and put a light grey jumper on over his white shirt, not helping much. The ref should have insisted that he wore something else, but didn't. A minor incident, but typical of the chippy Stevenage attitude.
We kicked off, and for the first ten minutes or so we looked the more adventurous team, without actually looking threatening. How many times this season have I typed that! Stevenage had started out very defensively, looking to close the Oxford players down quickly. Our players had obviously been expecting that and tried to stand firm, MacLaren's mistimed tackle getting him booked. The longer the half went on, the stonger Stevenage got - they were justifiably confident in their ability to snuff out any threats on their goal. Half an hour gone, and we went one down. A Stevenage attack down the right wing, lead to a deep cross. An unmarked Henry (not a vacuum cleaner) headed the ball across the face of goal. From my vantage point in the East stand it looked as if it had gone straight in - but the tannoy announced it as a Harry Worley own goal. Whatever.
The cross had been made too easily, the man was unmarked. Poor defending. Again.
As a crowd, we aren't too phased by going one down any more. It's happened before this season, and we've come back to win. But around me in the stand, there was some amazement at the poor quality of our play. We didn't look like scoring, and we hadn't looked like keeping a clean sheet. The midfield was being surrendered and the attack might have been Midson on his own for all the effect that Craddock and the lacklustre MacLean were having. Tactically we had gradually slid into the 'hoof it at Midson' routine. Even when he won it (which wasn't very often against the large Stevenage players) there was no fellow striker there to pick it up, no attacking midfielder running through to pick it up. We were one down, and looking like we wouldn't score if we played for a week.
If I have a criticism of CW it is that he isn't quick enough to make changes when they are needed. Changes in formation, changes in personnel, changes in tactics. There really should have been some sort of alteration. Half time loomed. We still hadn't had a decent shot, Stevenage looked the more likely to score. No changes. We just kept on doing the same things. A bit of passing it about - mostly backwards and sideways - until the player in posession either lost the ball or was so lacking in options that it was just booted aimlessly forward. We have to be better than that. We ARE better than that - we've seen it. But the ball kept going in the air, sooner or later. It kept bouncing off Midson, or going stright to a white shirt, or going into touch.
The one amusing spot in all this was the traditional Stevenage time-out, which happened after about 35 minutes. A player surprisingly (!) went down off the ball as if he were shot. Out came the drinks. The Stevenage players went for their tactical talk. The drinks bottles had been waiting on the sidelines for them, the crowd had been singing 'Drinks in a minute, you're getting drinks in a minute'. The ref knew what was happening, and was clearly unhappy - but couldn't do anything about it. Or could he? Once the 'drinks break' was over, he kept the 'injured' Stevenage player waiting on the sidelines for as long as he possibly could. Much to the wrath of the odious Westley and his flunkeys, and the amusement of the crowd. Well done, ref. Maybe a yellow card for 'simulation' or 'ungentlemanly conduct' might persuade them to stop doing it? Anyway, it came back to haunt them. The ref added four minutes injury time to the half, and in the last of those minutes Oxford undeservedly drew level. A bit of unconvincing head tennis near the Stevenage goal lead to Josh Payne jumping for a ball and being clattered into by a white shirted defender. A bit soft, but a penalty.
Craddock stepped up and scored down the middle(ish). As soon as the restart restarted,it stopped. Half time.
1-1. We hadn't had a shot in anger apart from the penalty, and that had been given away by Stevenage rather than earned by us. We had tried to play Stevenage at their own game and failed. Despite that, we hadn't changed what we were doing. A half time bollocking and a couple of substitutions might sort it out. Cross bar challenge - people who didn't know when their birthdays were.
The teams came out. No changes for us. Had the goal just before the half time break papered over the cracks in the dressing room? Oh oops. A couple of minutes gone and we were behind again. The central defence went AWOL, and ex triallist Reid put Stevenage 2-1 up. A nice finish, but how much time and space had he been given?!
We were now behind, and still didn't look like scoring. The Oxford bench settled down for a snooze. The players on the pitch gave each other hospital passes and practiced their hoofing skills. The crowd couldn't believe what they were seeing. Wright had a half chance from a corner but couldn't make decent contact.
Then what a surprise, as if it was pre-decided on came Hackney and Potter on the hour mark, replacing Craddock and Payne. Great, some width. We'd get the ball on the floor, send it wide and get some crosses in for Midson and MacLean. No we wouldn't. Potter couldn't get the ball out wide and resorted to having to come inside to get a sniff of it. When he did he went sideways most of the time. His team mates just stood and looked at him. Hackney stayed gamely on the wing, and was rewarded with absolutely nothing. The personnel had changed, the pattern of play hadn't. We still played it to players with their backs to goal, with no support. We still lumped it up the pitch to Midson. Stevenage looked like they might score, we didn't. Beano came on for Midson, it should have been MacLean (who has been very poor for several matches) and didn't make any difference at all. Potter had a weak shot vaguely towards goal. My granny could have saved it, as Geoff Boycott might say. Stevenage then saw the match out as easily as we had on Saturday.
The team left the pitch to some half-hearted boos, but mostly to a stoney silence. We'd got exactly what we deserved. Nothing. Stevenage, for all their niggly rule-stretching, had been the better team. More lively, stronger in defence, playing to their attributes and not worrying too much about their opponents.
Into the car, and back home. My night was complete when the road between Northampton and home was closed for roadworks meaning a 20-minute detour. What a rubbish night that was!
As I drove through the nether regions of Northamptonshire, my thoughts were:
That's it. No playoffs for us this year. Mathematically maybe. But the way that team played tonight - forget it.
The same weaknesses we have shown all season came together again. Let's depress ourselves and list them:
Poor movement off the ball all over the pitch.
Too many passes that don't actually make a difference.
Not enough shots on goal. We didn't actually bother the goalie once all night.
Not flexible enough with tactics, formation or subs.
Players not quick enough on the ball, in thought or deed.
Inability to play a wide game.
Inability to defend convincingly.
There's probably more, but I'm too down to go on.
Crewe on Saturday. I'll go more in hope than expectation. I hope that CW impresses on the players that they are now playing for their places in next season's squad. There are quite a few who will be off to pastures new. On the basis of last night's performance, it will be most of them.
Saturday 12 March 2011
Up the M6 again vs Port Vale (L2)
After last week's journey up to Stockport, it was time to revisit the delights of the M1 and the M6 and make the trip to Burslem to see the Us take on Port Vale.
There are many many things I don't understand about life. One of them is why people might be willing to pay the M6 toll (£4.80 at the weekend) when the non-toll version of the same road is likely to be running freely. Like at the weekend for example. I know that there might be some sort of jam, but since I like to live dangerously I decided to take the risk. As predicted, the road was clear and I sailed through. For those of you who don't know where Burslem is, it's near Stoke. Very near Stoke. Maybe even a suburb of Stoke. But I'm sure that any Vale fans who see this would prefer to ignore that, so let's settle for 'near'. You do drive past the Stoke City Brittania Stadium on the way, sponsored by the Brittania Building Society (or is it now a bank?).
Getting off the motorway and heading into Burslem, it is frankly a bit depressing to see how run down the area is. Stockport was a bit shabby, but the outskirts of Burslem look a thousand times worse - like all the shopkeepers have frankly just given up. More than 50% of the shops are shuttered up, or even permanently boarded up with Chipboard nailed over the doors and windows. By the look of the condition of the shopfronts and even the boards, they had been like that for some years. Shouldn't think that David Cameron's policies are going to do anyone who lives around there any good. They have my sympathies.
Matchday Parking - £4. Alluring. But at least very close to the stadium. After seeing the amazing amount of police both around the stadium and on the drive in through Burslem town centre it was obvious that they were expecting trouble, so maybe spending four quid and being close was a better idea than saving the money and wandering about the streets afterwards trying to remember where I'd parked the motor! I sat in the car eating my lunch, listening to Birmingham play Bolton in the FA Cup before getting bored with it. Luckily, who should wander across the car park at that very moment than Lincoln Yellow and his son, Leicester Yellow and a chap I didn't recognise, but who turned out to be YellowHoods. Nice. Introductions were made, hands were shaken and we all made our way into the stadium.
Vale Park is a decent stadium. We were in the South Stand behind the goal, to the right, with the left hand side netted off. It's a single story stand, as is the West Stand and the North Stand behind the other goal. The larger East stand is a bit odd, in that they haven't bothered (or can't afford) to install steats in on half of the lower tier of that stand. Apart from about fifteen seats or so. We joked that those seats were for the Vale fans who had problems with personal hygiene! The East Stand also seems to be called (according to the sign on the front), 'The Stand'. Hmm. Then you realise that there used to be something in between The and Stand, presumably the name of an ex-sponsor who hasn't been replaced. Hard times at Vale Park. There is also a family stand tucked in the corner between the West and North stands.
There are a couple of other things about the ground. Firstly, they have a super animated scoreboard. Very big and very flash. Unfortunately for away supporters, they've hung it from the inside roof of the away stand. That means that nobody from the away support can see it apart from those right at the front of the stand, and even then, they'd have to twist around. Even worse it restricts the view of those in the back of the away stand. Nice scoreboard, but badly thought out. The other thing is that the more vocal home support congregates at the south end off the West stand (closest to the away supporters) which makes for lots of gesturing and singing between the sets of fans. Quite good fun, although it looked as if some of the Vale fans were taking it a bit too seriously.
The teams were announced. After three successive defeats, surely CW had to make changes? Yes. We all sighed with something like relief. But when he makes changes, he really goes for it. Out of the starting lineup were the suspended Tonkin, Batt, Hall, Heslop, Craddock, Beano and MacLean. Blimey. Craddock (the only striker to actually score recently) didn't even make the bench. In came Pukiss and Kinniborough at fullback (Purks had to play, to run off last weeks chips :) ) to partner Worley and Wright at the back. Midfield was Hackney, McLaren, Payne and Clist, with our favourite Spitfire pilot Jack Midson up front with `Ole` Elfie Potter. Very brave team selection. The Vale team featured ex-U, Mr Orange - Lewis Haldane.
On a fashion note - we wore the blue way kit. Pah. On another fashion note I had forgiven my plain yellow shirt, last year's kit. If you remember (and there's no reason why you should) I had worn it for four matches consecutivly where we had won 2-1. After losing to Northampton by the same score it had been slung in the washing basket until it repented (and was washed). I reckoned it was time to give it another go, and was confidently expecting the score to be 2-1, preferably to us!
The match started with us playing away from our supporters. Port Vale had the best of the opening exchanges, without really looking dangerous. They tried to probe down the wings although they had made their pitch very narrow. Maybe a wider pitch would have helped this master plan. Whatever the reason, Purkiss (who is better defensively than Batt) and Kinniborough gave them a hard time trying to do this. MacLaren mistimed a tackle and got a yellow card. Probably fair enough. A couple of crosses failed to find their mark, being wildly overhit. Then within a few minutes, Jack Midson had two similar chances - both from the left hand side of the penalty area and both missed the far post. He really should have made the keeper make a save at least. We all looked at each other, hoping that we hadn't just squandered the best opportunities we would have. The ref then started getting a bit whistle happy, although Kinniborough's yellow card for tripping Tango Haldane was the correct decision. We were being pushed back as the half went on, Clarke making a decent tip over from a Valiant's free kick. I'm not sure it was actually going in - but better safe than sorry.
After 25 minutes, Port Vale were awarded a penalty. Purkiss pushed a Vale striker in the back, the player stumbled over. The ref had seen it and awarded the pen. A soft one, but no real complaints about it. Marc Richards stepped up and whacked it. But of course Ryan Clarke is no mug when it comes to saving penalties and he got across the goal line and got his body in the way. Brilliant. Except that (in what seemed like slow motion as I watched), it rebounded straight into the strikers path, and he gratefully made up for missing the penalty by sticking it in the back of the net. We'd had two decent chances and had been at least the equal of Vale for much of the half, but were now a goal down.
The 600 or so Oxford fans got behind their team. One of the features of this season (especially away) is that the supporters have been well, supportive. The team goes behind, we try to get them going. No booing, a bit of moaning (but quietly!) and a hell of a lot of vocal support. Makes you proud.
The goal had also sparked the Vale supporters into what passes for life in Burslem. 'Sing when you're winning, you only sing when you're winning'. Whether it was the accoustics I don't know, but even though the vocal Vale supporters were quite close, they were very very quiet. They managed a bit of noise once they scored.
Payne smacked one over the bar, but the next incident of note lead to our equalising goal. Alfie Potter (a man of undoubted ability but sometimes a lack of confidence in it) took responsibity and thumped a smashing dipping shot on target toward the Vale goal. Their keeper flailed at it like a dememnted scarecrow and only succeeded in pushing it onto the bar. It fell nicely for Midson, who reacted quickly and made up for his earlier misses with an opportunist goal. The Vale fans went back to their rather sullen silence, the away end erupted! There were a couple of dodgy moments in both penalty areas, but we got to half time with honours even.
Half time. Port Vale (like Chesterfield) can't provide black coffee. I'd had a white one before the start of the match. They had seemed badly prepared for a decent away following, the bloke in front of me had bought the last hot dog about 20 minutes before kickoff, and they had obviously employed the minimum number of minimum wage employees possible to serve behind the wire mesh fronted catering counters - leading to long queues. I decided once was enough and didn't bother trying again at half time.
The second half started with Port Vale making one of the more unusual substitutions you'll see, swapping goalkeepers. Presumably the original keeper was injured, but Tomlinson came on to replace him whatever the reason. Oxford were now on the front foot, as thay had been for some of the latter period of the first half. Two Vale defenders sandwiched Alfie in the area. We all howled for a penalty of course, even though we knew it wasn't one! Both teams had a decent amount of the ball, but in truth neither team was making a host of clear cut chances. Or any, in fact. However, we took the lead after a quarter of an hour or so. The ball was crossed into the Vale area, Payne got hold of it and passed it to Harry Worley. He was in a position not entirely different to the one he found himself in the Hereford game. That time, he'd blazed the ball over the bar. This time he struck it beautifully into the far corner. We were in the lead! More jubilation. We looked over to see how the Vale boys were taking it. They weren't there. A whole section of support had vanished.
Actually thay hadn't vanished (you guessed!), they had moved at half time, down to the other end of the stand to be nearer to the goal they were attacking. The goal deflated the Vale team. We were happy enough to contain the ineffective Vale attacks and to try and get another goal on the counter attack. After 25 minutes of so of the half, Jack Midson went off to great applause and was replaced by Beano. Midson had scored and had worked his socks off, holding the ball up very well. As a spectacle, the rest of the second half wasn't brilliant. Hackney was replaced by MacLean and Batt went to an unaccustomed left back in place of Kinniborough. Port Vale huffed and puffed and got increasingly desperate, we kept the ball well sometimes and defended well all the time. There was quite a lot of taking the ball into the corner from us, and much frustration for the home team, a couple of whom were booked for verbals to the ref (I think). Despite the usual late nerves from us all in the stands, the Oxford goal wasn't really seriously threatened. After four minutes of injury time torture, the ref blew for full time.
Quite a lot of the Port Vale fans had already gone. Which was odd. They were only one down, and are still in the play off positions. They won't be at the end of the season unless they improve quickly.
I said goodbye to my terrace friends and made my way out to the car. Outside the ground, there were some (as far as I could see) minor scuffles and what seemed like hundreds of police to stop them. Anyway, I avoided the scuffles and the fuzz and got into the queue to get out of the car park. On the way back through Burslem, there were knots of Vale youth hanging about - obviously looking for trouble. I suppose there's not much else to do when all the amenities have closed down.
The journey back was fine (I avoided the toll again).
My thoughts on the way back:
That team looked much better for an away match. Much more solid defensively.
Great support - again. Despite a very disppointing week, 600 made the long trip north.
We are still five points off the play offs, but have three home matches coming up. Win them all, and maybe, just maybe!
Why do Vale fans have yellow and black scarves when their team colours are black and white? And why are they called Port Vale anyway?
Nice to see Lincoln Yellow and Leicester Yellow again and to meet Hoodsy. He's far less sarcastic in real life! :)
See you all Tuesday night vs Stevenage notBorough. I'll be wearing the yellow shirt, so no worries!
There are many many things I don't understand about life. One of them is why people might be willing to pay the M6 toll (£4.80 at the weekend) when the non-toll version of the same road is likely to be running freely. Like at the weekend for example. I know that there might be some sort of jam, but since I like to live dangerously I decided to take the risk. As predicted, the road was clear and I sailed through. For those of you who don't know where Burslem is, it's near Stoke. Very near Stoke. Maybe even a suburb of Stoke. But I'm sure that any Vale fans who see this would prefer to ignore that, so let's settle for 'near'. You do drive past the Stoke City Brittania Stadium on the way, sponsored by the Brittania Building Society (or is it now a bank?).
Getting off the motorway and heading into Burslem, it is frankly a bit depressing to see how run down the area is. Stockport was a bit shabby, but the outskirts of Burslem look a thousand times worse - like all the shopkeepers have frankly just given up. More than 50% of the shops are shuttered up, or even permanently boarded up with Chipboard nailed over the doors and windows. By the look of the condition of the shopfronts and even the boards, they had been like that for some years. Shouldn't think that David Cameron's policies are going to do anyone who lives around there any good. They have my sympathies.
Matchday Parking - £4. Alluring. But at least very close to the stadium. After seeing the amazing amount of police both around the stadium and on the drive in through Burslem town centre it was obvious that they were expecting trouble, so maybe spending four quid and being close was a better idea than saving the money and wandering about the streets afterwards trying to remember where I'd parked the motor! I sat in the car eating my lunch, listening to Birmingham play Bolton in the FA Cup before getting bored with it. Luckily, who should wander across the car park at that very moment than Lincoln Yellow and his son, Leicester Yellow and a chap I didn't recognise, but who turned out to be YellowHoods. Nice. Introductions were made, hands were shaken and we all made our way into the stadium.
Vale Park is a decent stadium. We were in the South Stand behind the goal, to the right, with the left hand side netted off. It's a single story stand, as is the West Stand and the North Stand behind the other goal. The larger East stand is a bit odd, in that they haven't bothered (or can't afford) to install steats in on half of the lower tier of that stand. Apart from about fifteen seats or so. We joked that those seats were for the Vale fans who had problems with personal hygiene! The East Stand also seems to be called (according to the sign on the front), 'The Stand'. Hmm. Then you realise that there used to be something in between The and Stand, presumably the name of an ex-sponsor who hasn't been replaced. Hard times at Vale Park. There is also a family stand tucked in the corner between the West and North stands.
There are a couple of other things about the ground. Firstly, they have a super animated scoreboard. Very big and very flash. Unfortunately for away supporters, they've hung it from the inside roof of the away stand. That means that nobody from the away support can see it apart from those right at the front of the stand, and even then, they'd have to twist around. Even worse it restricts the view of those in the back of the away stand. Nice scoreboard, but badly thought out. The other thing is that the more vocal home support congregates at the south end off the West stand (closest to the away supporters) which makes for lots of gesturing and singing between the sets of fans. Quite good fun, although it looked as if some of the Vale fans were taking it a bit too seriously.
The teams were announced. After three successive defeats, surely CW had to make changes? Yes. We all sighed with something like relief. But when he makes changes, he really goes for it. Out of the starting lineup were the suspended Tonkin, Batt, Hall, Heslop, Craddock, Beano and MacLean. Blimey. Craddock (the only striker to actually score recently) didn't even make the bench. In came Pukiss and Kinniborough at fullback (Purks had to play, to run off last weeks chips :) ) to partner Worley and Wright at the back. Midfield was Hackney, McLaren, Payne and Clist, with our favourite Spitfire pilot Jack Midson up front with `Ole` Elfie Potter. Very brave team selection. The Vale team featured ex-U, Mr Orange - Lewis Haldane.
On a fashion note - we wore the blue way kit. Pah. On another fashion note I had forgiven my plain yellow shirt, last year's kit. If you remember (and there's no reason why you should) I had worn it for four matches consecutivly where we had won 2-1. After losing to Northampton by the same score it had been slung in the washing basket until it repented (and was washed). I reckoned it was time to give it another go, and was confidently expecting the score to be 2-1, preferably to us!
The match started with us playing away from our supporters. Port Vale had the best of the opening exchanges, without really looking dangerous. They tried to probe down the wings although they had made their pitch very narrow. Maybe a wider pitch would have helped this master plan. Whatever the reason, Purkiss (who is better defensively than Batt) and Kinniborough gave them a hard time trying to do this. MacLaren mistimed a tackle and got a yellow card. Probably fair enough. A couple of crosses failed to find their mark, being wildly overhit. Then within a few minutes, Jack Midson had two similar chances - both from the left hand side of the penalty area and both missed the far post. He really should have made the keeper make a save at least. We all looked at each other, hoping that we hadn't just squandered the best opportunities we would have. The ref then started getting a bit whistle happy, although Kinniborough's yellow card for tripping Tango Haldane was the correct decision. We were being pushed back as the half went on, Clarke making a decent tip over from a Valiant's free kick. I'm not sure it was actually going in - but better safe than sorry.
After 25 minutes, Port Vale were awarded a penalty. Purkiss pushed a Vale striker in the back, the player stumbled over. The ref had seen it and awarded the pen. A soft one, but no real complaints about it. Marc Richards stepped up and whacked it. But of course Ryan Clarke is no mug when it comes to saving penalties and he got across the goal line and got his body in the way. Brilliant. Except that (in what seemed like slow motion as I watched), it rebounded straight into the strikers path, and he gratefully made up for missing the penalty by sticking it in the back of the net. We'd had two decent chances and had been at least the equal of Vale for much of the half, but were now a goal down.
The 600 or so Oxford fans got behind their team. One of the features of this season (especially away) is that the supporters have been well, supportive. The team goes behind, we try to get them going. No booing, a bit of moaning (but quietly!) and a hell of a lot of vocal support. Makes you proud.
The goal had also sparked the Vale supporters into what passes for life in Burslem. 'Sing when you're winning, you only sing when you're winning'. Whether it was the accoustics I don't know, but even though the vocal Vale supporters were quite close, they were very very quiet. They managed a bit of noise once they scored.
Payne smacked one over the bar, but the next incident of note lead to our equalising goal. Alfie Potter (a man of undoubted ability but sometimes a lack of confidence in it) took responsibity and thumped a smashing dipping shot on target toward the Vale goal. Their keeper flailed at it like a dememnted scarecrow and only succeeded in pushing it onto the bar. It fell nicely for Midson, who reacted quickly and made up for his earlier misses with an opportunist goal. The Vale fans went back to their rather sullen silence, the away end erupted! There were a couple of dodgy moments in both penalty areas, but we got to half time with honours even.
Half time. Port Vale (like Chesterfield) can't provide black coffee. I'd had a white one before the start of the match. They had seemed badly prepared for a decent away following, the bloke in front of me had bought the last hot dog about 20 minutes before kickoff, and they had obviously employed the minimum number of minimum wage employees possible to serve behind the wire mesh fronted catering counters - leading to long queues. I decided once was enough and didn't bother trying again at half time.
The second half started with Port Vale making one of the more unusual substitutions you'll see, swapping goalkeepers. Presumably the original keeper was injured, but Tomlinson came on to replace him whatever the reason. Oxford were now on the front foot, as thay had been for some of the latter period of the first half. Two Vale defenders sandwiched Alfie in the area. We all howled for a penalty of course, even though we knew it wasn't one! Both teams had a decent amount of the ball, but in truth neither team was making a host of clear cut chances. Or any, in fact. However, we took the lead after a quarter of an hour or so. The ball was crossed into the Vale area, Payne got hold of it and passed it to Harry Worley. He was in a position not entirely different to the one he found himself in the Hereford game. That time, he'd blazed the ball over the bar. This time he struck it beautifully into the far corner. We were in the lead! More jubilation. We looked over to see how the Vale boys were taking it. They weren't there. A whole section of support had vanished.
Actually thay hadn't vanished (you guessed!), they had moved at half time, down to the other end of the stand to be nearer to the goal they were attacking. The goal deflated the Vale team. We were happy enough to contain the ineffective Vale attacks and to try and get another goal on the counter attack. After 25 minutes of so of the half, Jack Midson went off to great applause and was replaced by Beano. Midson had scored and had worked his socks off, holding the ball up very well. As a spectacle, the rest of the second half wasn't brilliant. Hackney was replaced by MacLean and Batt went to an unaccustomed left back in place of Kinniborough. Port Vale huffed and puffed and got increasingly desperate, we kept the ball well sometimes and defended well all the time. There was quite a lot of taking the ball into the corner from us, and much frustration for the home team, a couple of whom were booked for verbals to the ref (I think). Despite the usual late nerves from us all in the stands, the Oxford goal wasn't really seriously threatened. After four minutes of injury time torture, the ref blew for full time.
Quite a lot of the Port Vale fans had already gone. Which was odd. They were only one down, and are still in the play off positions. They won't be at the end of the season unless they improve quickly.
I said goodbye to my terrace friends and made my way out to the car. Outside the ground, there were some (as far as I could see) minor scuffles and what seemed like hundreds of police to stop them. Anyway, I avoided the scuffles and the fuzz and got into the queue to get out of the car park. On the way back through Burslem, there were knots of Vale youth hanging about - obviously looking for trouble. I suppose there's not much else to do when all the amenities have closed down.
The journey back was fine (I avoided the toll again).
My thoughts on the way back:
That team looked much better for an away match. Much more solid defensively.
Great support - again. Despite a very disppointing week, 600 made the long trip north.
We are still five points off the play offs, but have three home matches coming up. Win them all, and maybe, just maybe!
Why do Vale fans have yellow and black scarves when their team colours are black and white? And why are they called Port Vale anyway?
Nice to see Lincoln Yellow and Leicester Yellow again and to meet Hoodsy. He's far less sarcastic in real life! :)
See you all Tuesday night vs Stevenage notBorough. I'll be wearing the yellow shirt, so no worries!
Sunday 6 March 2011
It's not what you do, it's who you do it with vs Stockport (L2)
I don't know if you can all remember that far back, but early on in the season we had a little trip down to Upton Park (The Boleyn Ground, if you're being pedantic or accurate!). As well as being a great evening's football only spoiled by a last gasp goal by our opponents, it was a special night for me as I took a long time (but not met up with enough) London based friend with me to the match. Let's call him Mic. Good idea, because that's his name. We have in fact been friends ever since our school days - which for those that know me will realise is quite some time ago! It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening for many reasons, and we decided to do it again some time.
That time had arrived when the Stockport game arrived. An odd selection of match you might think, but explained once I tell you that there was a third member of our little 'crew' who is now resident oop north - not a million miles from Edgeley Park, home of Stockport County. Mic and I travelled up together in my old jalopy, stopping only at Stafford services for a comfort break (that means we went for a wee but is apparently more polite). Mic was faintly amazed that people were coming up to me and saying how much they enjoyed this blog. I basked briefly in the cyberfame before admitting that only about ten people know who I am, and for some reason most of them were at Stafford services!
We had arranged to meet Toby (the Third Man) outside the Royal Oak in Stockport. Despite a bit of a walking tour round Stockport, we eventually managed to all meet up, for the first time in God knows how many years. The idea of the pub appealed, but none of us had eaten so we decided to try a local cafe instead and leave the beer until later. I know - lightweights!
We chose from the 'extensive' menu - two of us selecting a panini (I thought that was a football sticker!). It was a bit odd when the 'panini' turned out to be a toasted sandwich - or at least the contents of what should have been in the panini between two slices of toast, which isn't really a toasted sandwich at all, is it? Thinking that this might be some sort of odd northern custom we all kept quiet in our soft southern way, rather than offering all and sundry outside, or threatening to sue for mental anguish. Eventually the mystery was solved when they admitted that they had actually ran out of paninis and gave us a free bowl of chips as some sort of compo. Result!
We were just polishing off our gourmet meal with about half an hour to go before kickoff when a soft scottish voice at my shoulder asked if he could borrow the vinegar from our table. Of course, Steve Kinniborough, feel free. Turning round, sat at the corner table was Ben Purkiss with a plate full of chips (bloody sportsmen and their health foods), which would have obviously been awful without vinegar. Steve and Ben were all tracksuited up, but (call me Poirot) I suspected that they weren't in the squad for the match, since a bite to eat in a cafe isn't the usual prematch routine I'd expect from finely-honed athletes. Steve settled down to his green soup (looked horrible) and a salad roll - marginally more healthy. We left and made our way to the gound.
Edgeley Park is actually OK, despite the 'garden shed' song, although the away stand is uncovered. As all travelling suporters know, that generally makes for less atmosphere, with noise just floating away rather than building. Luckily it wasn't raining. Being a man with forethought (and of course hindsight) I'd provided Oxford scarves for my mates, so we were all kitted out - and the number of the Us supporters gradually swelled to about 600.
The pitch. Ah, the pitch. I'm not sure how to describe it really. Agricultural? Sandy? Muddy? Cut up? Awful. All of the above. It certainly played a part in the match. The teams were announced, through a very echoey PA system. My sleuthing skills were vindicated, with Pukiss and Kinniborough not making the squad. Let's just hope we don't need a fullback amoung the subs, eh! In fact there were no changes from the team that had lost at home to Hereford and away to Lincoln. Hmm. I wasn't sure about that before the Lincoln game, and now I was even less so. We are supposed to have a decent squad. Tinkering with a winning team might be daft, not tinkering with a losing one is probably dafter.
Still, Stockport are rubbish - so surely we could still get something out of the game...
After a bit of action in the Stockport goalmouth early on, nothing happened.
Half time...
Oh, you want a bit more than that. Ok. Heslop was booked after a late challenge, Clarke saved a free kick, Craddock had a shot blocked after a decent move, Tonks was booked, Craddock shot over (he was leaning back at about 45 degress, so no surprise), Tonks made another challenge at least as bad as his first but somehow got off with a final warning and Stockport probably should have gone ahead just before half time, but the shot curled past Clarke's right hand post when it could snuck inside the post just as easily.
Those are the facts (or at least what I remember). But the story of the half was really that there were two terribly poor teams playing terribly poor football on a terrible pitch. Oxford were even worse than they had been against Lincoln. For the first few minutes of the half, Stockport had looked like a team who expected to lose. Once they realised that we weren't going to challenge for the ball in midfield and that our attack was powderpuff, they grew in confidence. Not in ability mind you. But they were no worse than the boys playing in the 'Spurs' white and blue away kit. Our passing was woeful, our touch dreadful. There was little or no pattern to our play, with head-tennis being the order of the day for long periods. Movement was poor and effort seemingly lacking. It had been a dreadful half of football.
Half time (OK, now?). My friends were trying to be kind about the standard of football, and had enjoyed the songs and banter. I'd particularly like to mention the chap behind me who said 'Shit, shit, shit, shit' in a very worried voice everytime Stockport came near our goal (he could obviously read my mind!) and the bloke a few feet away who appealed for a 'handball!' every time a Stockport player touched the ball with any part of his body, including feet. An optimist. Most refs in league 2 don't seem to give a handball when it really is one - the chances of him doing so otherwise were fairly slim! The favourite food around me was upside down meat pie in a sea of mushy peas. Looked disgusting but, from all the contented muching around me, obviously tasted lovely.
What would I have done at half time? I'd have made some changes. Tonkin was obviously walking a very thin line. Shame our other fullbacks were probably still mopping up the remains of their prematch nosh in the cafe. I'd still have taken him off, and rejigged the defence. Maybe bringing Sangare on in the middle and moving Jake out to the left. In both midfield and attack we'd been feeble, so I would have brought Hackney or Clist on for Heslop who isn't firing on all cylinders at the moment. As always, CW didn't do any of the above, preferring to give the existing players a few minutes to show what they could do.
After five minutes of the second half, that looked like a brilliant decision, and showed why CW is a football manager and I'm not. Beano managed to get a flick on, Seve Maclean passed in to Craddock who slotted it under the goalie and between his legs to put us one up. It was probably the first time in the match that we had moved the ball quickly, and a forward had actually tried to run through the Stockport defence to recieve a through ball. It had paid dividends. We would surely go on to win the match now. Mic and Toby were cheering as much as everyone else, and joy in the Oxford end was unconfined. You could actually see the Stockport players' shoulders droop.
But (great credit to them) they picked themselves up and went on the attack, forcing a decent block from the shaggy haired Wright. Then it all went quiet on the pitch for a bit, with the ball going up in the air, and both teams giving the ball away as if they were playing some bizarre variant of pass the parcel.
An odd substitution saw Simon Clist come on for Paul McLaren. I am presuming that Mclaren was suffering from an injury, as there were two midfielders I would have hooked off before him. As soon as McLaren went off, we started to lose even more of the midfield.
Then with about 20 minutes of the half gone, Tonkin mistimed another challenge and the inevitable happened. We were down to ten men. Why Tonks hadn't been subbed I don't know. He's having a bit of a mare at the moment, poor bloke. An own goal at Lincoln and now this. Clist went to left back to fill the hole. That left a midfield of Hall and Heslop with Craddock, MacLean and Beano up front. There was a big MacLaren shaped hole in midfield now. In another odd move, MacLean came off and Alfie Potter came on. We needed someone in central midfield. Not a pacey little striker. Payne and Sangare were picking splinters out of their bums. Surely either would have been a more solid choice.
We were now playing 4-4-1 with a midfield of Hall, Heslop, Potter and mostly Craddock, sometimes Constable. Now I know I am stating the bleeding obvious, but that doesn't loook like a 'battling, let's protect our lead' sort of midfield. It looks more like a 'bugger, I don't trust some of the players on the bench' midfield. Well, whether it is obvious or not, the midfield was now a challenge-free zone. We dropped back, and back, and back. Tackles were missed or not even attempted. But we were still one up. There was only a quarter of an hour to go, and when a Stockport cross fizzed across the face of our goal without getting what seemed certain to be a decisive touch, it looked like it might be our day.
Hope - dashed more often than not.
Clarke came out and challenged for a ball pumped into the penalty area and punched, the ball fell to a Stockport player who passed it to a teammate who had the whole goal to aim for. He couldn't miss - and didn't. He had been standing exactly where a decent central midfielder would have been. Pfft. Maybe a point was OK. Well really it wasn't, if we were to harbour any realistic expectations of a play off place. Perhaps CW agreed, as Hackney came on to add some pace to the attack, replacing Tom Craddock.
Stockport could smell blood though, and they certainly didn't want to settle for a point. Their ambition almost cost them as they pushed forward, with Hackney latching onto a through ball. The keeper came out, Hackney lobbed him. The Us supporters behind the goal tried to suck the ball in, but it didn't have enough pace to escape the attentions of a Stockport defender, who hooked it away, out of danger. We were now well into stoppage time.
Stockport then won the game. A blue shirted player simply ran though the centre of our non-tackling midfield, which parted in much the same way as the red sea did for some bloke with a beard. Our northern Moses was given the whole of the goal to shoot at. He shot, he scored, we lost. Match over. Maybe even season over? The decent ref blew the whistle, much as we had blown the match.
My long-suffering friends were consoling, the mood amoung the faithful was extremely pissed off. But (as per the title of this article), it's not what you do, it's who you do it with. The disappointment of the match couldn't spoil my day (usually I'm like a bear with a sore head when we have lost) - meeting up with old friends was too great a pleasure. And besides, after the Hereford and Lincoln matches I was already fairly convinced that midtable mediocrity would be our fate this season. Something has gone badly wrong - how can a team that looked so good against Bradford look so slow and unskilful against Stockport. As we walked back to the car, a Stockport lass leaned out of her car, and shouted 'we are staying up' with a huge smile. 'Im afraid you're not, love' was my reply. They were dreadful, we were worse. But we have 16 more points than them - and that's the difference.
Thoughts afterwards...
None. We went and met Clare, Toby's better (much better :) ) half, had a lovely curry and went to the pub. Football is important, but it pales into insignificance when compared to the value of true friends.
Bleeuugh. Sorry, came over all schmaltzy there for a moment.
A great weekend, the only blemish a crappy football match.
That time had arrived when the Stockport game arrived. An odd selection of match you might think, but explained once I tell you that there was a third member of our little 'crew' who is now resident oop north - not a million miles from Edgeley Park, home of Stockport County. Mic and I travelled up together in my old jalopy, stopping only at Stafford services for a comfort break (that means we went for a wee but is apparently more polite). Mic was faintly amazed that people were coming up to me and saying how much they enjoyed this blog. I basked briefly in the cyberfame before admitting that only about ten people know who I am, and for some reason most of them were at Stafford services!
We had arranged to meet Toby (the Third Man) outside the Royal Oak in Stockport. Despite a bit of a walking tour round Stockport, we eventually managed to all meet up, for the first time in God knows how many years. The idea of the pub appealed, but none of us had eaten so we decided to try a local cafe instead and leave the beer until later. I know - lightweights!
We chose from the 'extensive' menu - two of us selecting a panini (I thought that was a football sticker!). It was a bit odd when the 'panini' turned out to be a toasted sandwich - or at least the contents of what should have been in the panini between two slices of toast, which isn't really a toasted sandwich at all, is it? Thinking that this might be some sort of odd northern custom we all kept quiet in our soft southern way, rather than offering all and sundry outside, or threatening to sue for mental anguish. Eventually the mystery was solved when they admitted that they had actually ran out of paninis and gave us a free bowl of chips as some sort of compo. Result!
We were just polishing off our gourmet meal with about half an hour to go before kickoff when a soft scottish voice at my shoulder asked if he could borrow the vinegar from our table. Of course, Steve Kinniborough, feel free. Turning round, sat at the corner table was Ben Purkiss with a plate full of chips (bloody sportsmen and their health foods), which would have obviously been awful without vinegar. Steve and Ben were all tracksuited up, but (call me Poirot) I suspected that they weren't in the squad for the match, since a bite to eat in a cafe isn't the usual prematch routine I'd expect from finely-honed athletes. Steve settled down to his green soup (looked horrible) and a salad roll - marginally more healthy. We left and made our way to the gound.
Edgeley Park is actually OK, despite the 'garden shed' song, although the away stand is uncovered. As all travelling suporters know, that generally makes for less atmosphere, with noise just floating away rather than building. Luckily it wasn't raining. Being a man with forethought (and of course hindsight) I'd provided Oxford scarves for my mates, so we were all kitted out - and the number of the Us supporters gradually swelled to about 600.
The pitch. Ah, the pitch. I'm not sure how to describe it really. Agricultural? Sandy? Muddy? Cut up? Awful. All of the above. It certainly played a part in the match. The teams were announced, through a very echoey PA system. My sleuthing skills were vindicated, with Pukiss and Kinniborough not making the squad. Let's just hope we don't need a fullback amoung the subs, eh! In fact there were no changes from the team that had lost at home to Hereford and away to Lincoln. Hmm. I wasn't sure about that before the Lincoln game, and now I was even less so. We are supposed to have a decent squad. Tinkering with a winning team might be daft, not tinkering with a losing one is probably dafter.
Still, Stockport are rubbish - so surely we could still get something out of the game...
After a bit of action in the Stockport goalmouth early on, nothing happened.
Half time...
Oh, you want a bit more than that. Ok. Heslop was booked after a late challenge, Clarke saved a free kick, Craddock had a shot blocked after a decent move, Tonks was booked, Craddock shot over (he was leaning back at about 45 degress, so no surprise), Tonks made another challenge at least as bad as his first but somehow got off with a final warning and Stockport probably should have gone ahead just before half time, but the shot curled past Clarke's right hand post when it could snuck inside the post just as easily.
Those are the facts (or at least what I remember). But the story of the half was really that there were two terribly poor teams playing terribly poor football on a terrible pitch. Oxford were even worse than they had been against Lincoln. For the first few minutes of the half, Stockport had looked like a team who expected to lose. Once they realised that we weren't going to challenge for the ball in midfield and that our attack was powderpuff, they grew in confidence. Not in ability mind you. But they were no worse than the boys playing in the 'Spurs' white and blue away kit. Our passing was woeful, our touch dreadful. There was little or no pattern to our play, with head-tennis being the order of the day for long periods. Movement was poor and effort seemingly lacking. It had been a dreadful half of football.
Half time (OK, now?). My friends were trying to be kind about the standard of football, and had enjoyed the songs and banter. I'd particularly like to mention the chap behind me who said 'Shit, shit, shit, shit' in a very worried voice everytime Stockport came near our goal (he could obviously read my mind!) and the bloke a few feet away who appealed for a 'handball!' every time a Stockport player touched the ball with any part of his body, including feet. An optimist. Most refs in league 2 don't seem to give a handball when it really is one - the chances of him doing so otherwise were fairly slim! The favourite food around me was upside down meat pie in a sea of mushy peas. Looked disgusting but, from all the contented muching around me, obviously tasted lovely.
What would I have done at half time? I'd have made some changes. Tonkin was obviously walking a very thin line. Shame our other fullbacks were probably still mopping up the remains of their prematch nosh in the cafe. I'd still have taken him off, and rejigged the defence. Maybe bringing Sangare on in the middle and moving Jake out to the left. In both midfield and attack we'd been feeble, so I would have brought Hackney or Clist on for Heslop who isn't firing on all cylinders at the moment. As always, CW didn't do any of the above, preferring to give the existing players a few minutes to show what they could do.
After five minutes of the second half, that looked like a brilliant decision, and showed why CW is a football manager and I'm not. Beano managed to get a flick on, Seve Maclean passed in to Craddock who slotted it under the goalie and between his legs to put us one up. It was probably the first time in the match that we had moved the ball quickly, and a forward had actually tried to run through the Stockport defence to recieve a through ball. It had paid dividends. We would surely go on to win the match now. Mic and Toby were cheering as much as everyone else, and joy in the Oxford end was unconfined. You could actually see the Stockport players' shoulders droop.
But (great credit to them) they picked themselves up and went on the attack, forcing a decent block from the shaggy haired Wright. Then it all went quiet on the pitch for a bit, with the ball going up in the air, and both teams giving the ball away as if they were playing some bizarre variant of pass the parcel.
An odd substitution saw Simon Clist come on for Paul McLaren. I am presuming that Mclaren was suffering from an injury, as there were two midfielders I would have hooked off before him. As soon as McLaren went off, we started to lose even more of the midfield.
Then with about 20 minutes of the half gone, Tonkin mistimed another challenge and the inevitable happened. We were down to ten men. Why Tonks hadn't been subbed I don't know. He's having a bit of a mare at the moment, poor bloke. An own goal at Lincoln and now this. Clist went to left back to fill the hole. That left a midfield of Hall and Heslop with Craddock, MacLean and Beano up front. There was a big MacLaren shaped hole in midfield now. In another odd move, MacLean came off and Alfie Potter came on. We needed someone in central midfield. Not a pacey little striker. Payne and Sangare were picking splinters out of their bums. Surely either would have been a more solid choice.
We were now playing 4-4-1 with a midfield of Hall, Heslop, Potter and mostly Craddock, sometimes Constable. Now I know I am stating the bleeding obvious, but that doesn't loook like a 'battling, let's protect our lead' sort of midfield. It looks more like a 'bugger, I don't trust some of the players on the bench' midfield. Well, whether it is obvious or not, the midfield was now a challenge-free zone. We dropped back, and back, and back. Tackles were missed or not even attempted. But we were still one up. There was only a quarter of an hour to go, and when a Stockport cross fizzed across the face of our goal without getting what seemed certain to be a decisive touch, it looked like it might be our day.
Hope - dashed more often than not.
Clarke came out and challenged for a ball pumped into the penalty area and punched, the ball fell to a Stockport player who passed it to a teammate who had the whole goal to aim for. He couldn't miss - and didn't. He had been standing exactly where a decent central midfielder would have been. Pfft. Maybe a point was OK. Well really it wasn't, if we were to harbour any realistic expectations of a play off place. Perhaps CW agreed, as Hackney came on to add some pace to the attack, replacing Tom Craddock.
Stockport could smell blood though, and they certainly didn't want to settle for a point. Their ambition almost cost them as they pushed forward, with Hackney latching onto a through ball. The keeper came out, Hackney lobbed him. The Us supporters behind the goal tried to suck the ball in, but it didn't have enough pace to escape the attentions of a Stockport defender, who hooked it away, out of danger. We were now well into stoppage time.
Stockport then won the game. A blue shirted player simply ran though the centre of our non-tackling midfield, which parted in much the same way as the red sea did for some bloke with a beard. Our northern Moses was given the whole of the goal to shoot at. He shot, he scored, we lost. Match over. Maybe even season over? The decent ref blew the whistle, much as we had blown the match.
My long-suffering friends were consoling, the mood amoung the faithful was extremely pissed off. But (as per the title of this article), it's not what you do, it's who you do it with. The disappointment of the match couldn't spoil my day (usually I'm like a bear with a sore head when we have lost) - meeting up with old friends was too great a pleasure. And besides, after the Hereford and Lincoln matches I was already fairly convinced that midtable mediocrity would be our fate this season. Something has gone badly wrong - how can a team that looked so good against Bradford look so slow and unskilful against Stockport. As we walked back to the car, a Stockport lass leaned out of her car, and shouted 'we are staying up' with a huge smile. 'Im afraid you're not, love' was my reply. They were dreadful, we were worse. But we have 16 more points than them - and that's the difference.
Thoughts afterwards...
None. We went and met Clare, Toby's better (much better :) ) half, had a lovely curry and went to the pub. Football is important, but it pales into insignificance when compared to the value of true friends.
Bleeuugh. Sorry, came over all schmaltzy there for a moment.
A great weekend, the only blemish a crappy football match.
Thursday 3 March 2011
Jukeboxes - The BalAMI I200M
Let's have a change.
It's been pointed out (correctly) that this blog is more than a tad OUFC-heavy. So here is something completely different. I have always subscribed to the maxim that 'he who dies with the most toys wins'. Here is one of my toys...
First, a short history lesson...
The AMI bit of BalAMI stands for Automatic Musical Instrument company. AMI are one of the 'big four' American manufacturers. (The others are Wurlitzer, Seeburg and Rock-Ola). American, I can hear you saying! Where was this beauty built? Memphis? Chicago? New York? Bismark, North Dakota?
Ilford.
Ilford, Essex.
It's been pointed out (correctly) that this blog is more than a tad OUFC-heavy. So here is something completely different. I have always subscribed to the maxim that 'he who dies with the most toys wins'. Here is one of my toys...
First, a short history lesson...
The AMI bit of BalAMI stands for Automatic Musical Instrument company. AMI are one of the 'big four' American manufacturers. (The others are Wurlitzer, Seeburg and Rock-Ola). American, I can hear you saying! Where was this beauty built? Memphis? Chicago? New York? Bismark, North Dakota?
Ilford.
Ilford, Essex.
After the second world war, the British government imposed import restrictions. A certain percentage of any item imported had to be 'made' in the UK. I'm not quite sure how this worked for bottles of Coke, nylons or American tourists, but bear with me. Balfour Machine Engineering (hence the Bal bit) imported parts from the states, put the boxes together in Ilford and hey presto! A British jukebox. Sort of.
The BalAMI story is documented in greater detail than I am going to go into here on the excellent BalAMI web site (http://www.bal-ami.com). Go there if you want more info.
Suffice to say that Balfour Machine Engineering put together a rather eclectic mixture of AMI jukes, some pretty close to their American equivalents and some completely off the wall (it must have been all the bromide in the tea).
The Model I of which this is an example, is one of the most 'true to the original' models in most respects, except that deep inside is a British Beam Echo amp rather then an American AMI version. OK, so that's explained the BalAMI bit and the I bit. The 200 means it plays 200 selections (the a and b sides of 100 45 rpm seven inch records) and the M means it is a manual selection jukebox.
Here's a shot showing the selection mechanism. To select a top tune, just spin the red wheel. As the numbers click past the letters also increment, and with a mere three hundred spins of the wheel you have reached your choice. A bit of an exaggeration maybe - but these manual select mechs are much cheaper to make than the electric select option. Having said that, there is a certain physical nature to this kind of selector, that is quite pleasing to operate.
Above the selector wheel you can see the turntable and arm. Above that is the gripper motor and (in between the title strips) a small bit of the record basket.
Let's take the back off the machine and look at the record basket...
Here's the record basket. It has (oddly enough) 100 slots, hands up who can tell me why...
The main motor of the juke moves the basket round, and the jukebox equivalent of a large elastic band makes sure that the records don't fall out when they're at the bottom. I bet you were wondering about that!
So, you make your highly manual selection, press the gaudily coloured black button next to the red selector wheel and it all swings into motion. The turntable starts going round, the record basket revolves. When it gets to your selection, the basket stops and the gripper arm driven by (go on, guess...) the gripper motor grabs the record, and depending on whether you have selected the a or b side, flips the record horizontally one way or the other and plonks it on the turntable. The arm then comes across and you hear that lovely hiss as the stylus hits the groove. Aaah..
Unless you've chosen to play 'I Think I'm Paranoid' by Garbage.
Then the gripper arm hurls the record around the jukebox, and the needle starts to play the lovely sound of the turntable. Nice! But only that record. So my jukin' advice is never put Garbage in a BalAMI - you know it makes sense.
And finally - this jukebox was made in 1958. BalAMI made this machine in just the fetching pink you can see above - AMI made a turquoise version as well. There are no confirmed sightings of an electric select BalAMI version of the Model I - unless you can tell me better. The colour scheme above is not totally original - the pink bits right at the back and under the grille would originally have been black, but a previous owner wanted it pink - looks OK to me. Oh, and this actual box was on 'Blue Peter' back in September 1998. Now if only I can just peel off all that sticky back plastic...
Wednesday 2 March 2011
Warm Welcome, Cold Comfort vs Lincoln (L2)
A Tuesday night trip to Lincoln. Up the A1 and across a bit (I hope my satNav has a better grasp of geography than me). A post on the Yellows Forum had told us about a small outpost of yellows fandom in a Lincolnshire pub and invited those who wanted to meet up there. It sounded like a nice idea so I set off earlier than I would have normally done, and headed for The Wheatsheaf in Waddington.
One of the plusses of following the yellows away for me is that you end up driving to and through places you wouldn't normally see. Today's point of interest was Grantham, birthplace of Maggie Thatcher. It wasn't that interesting, really. But it wasn't that far from there to the Wheatsheaf. The pub was easy to find, and made easier to spot by the yellow and blue ballons tied to the outside! Soon there was a small crowd of fellow yellows inside, including LeicesterYellow, LincolnYellow (whose partner runs the pub),the comms team from OUFC (Martin, Darryl and the other two lads whose names I shamefully don't know) and several others. It was all very welcoming, and the fish and chips from the shop over the road were fine although the haddock had a suspiciously cod-like look, taste and texture. I've just thought. Maybe it was cod. We all set off in convoy (if three cars is a convoy) towards the ground with plenty of time to spare. Parking was easy - on a bit of field not far from the ground, £3 for the privilege. A quick stroll up past what I presume is the Sincil (a large stream, small river or whatever) to Sincil Bank.
Sincil Bank is a nice ground. There are two low stands behind each goal, one with hospitality boxes. One side has a stand that runs the length of the ground, the other side is split into three: one open area, a large stand with colourful seating and 'Poachers Corner' which is proabably the smallest stand in the league, having about 40 seats. We were housed in the right hand side of the long side stand - quite similar to the position of away fans at our place. Not my favourite position really. I'd rather be either behind the goal, or much nearer to the centre line. After the recent warmish weather, it was a bit of a shock that it was absolutely brass monkeys. The wind was freezing, whipping into the stadium via the fens, the north sea, Scandinavia and the Artic tundra. Brr.
The team news was that there was no news. Same team again. That was either showing confidence in the team despite the loss to Hereford or desperately unimaginative. Which of these was correct would only be judged with the considerable luxury of hindsight. It was interesting to see that Aaron Woodley was involved in the warm-ups (but not in the the squad) - I wonder if he is getting a bit closer to the team? The pitch looked a bit rough, but not too bad considering all the rain that there has been - and especially compared to some of the pitches that can be seen week in week out on the FL Show!
We were wearing the hideous blue kit. Now I'm going to have a bit of a rant. It used to be that a club had their club colours and a second strip that they ONLY wore when there was a kit clash. For some reason, we now have a home kit and an away kit. I say 'some reason' but I think I know the reason. Money. A chance to get some people to buy two shirts rather than one. Not good enough, and not in the right spirit. We should wear our first strip whenever we can. And yesterday, we could have and should have done so. So next season, let's have:
a) A predominantly yellow 'first' kit. (reverse the colours of the present kit and that would be OK - yellow where the blue is on the shirt, yellow shorts, yellow socks). What really took the biscuit was when Torquay wore their all yellow kit at our place - that shows just how blue this kit is!!
b) An alternative strip that doesn't have blue in it. The white is quite smart.
c) Only wear the second strip when we can't wear the first.
Anyway, whatever colour we were wearing, we started by playing right to left and by hacking the ball into touch. Sigh. For the first five or six minutes we looked fairly good, pressing the Imps back - without creating to much apart from a Heslop shot that went past the post. As against Hereford however, the Us then conceded a goal to the first attack by their opponents. The ball was crossed from the Imps right and a snap shot hit the base of the completely stranded Clarke's right hand post. The Lincoln striker was the first to react to his own rebound and popped the ball into the net. The three hundred or so Oxford fans were silenced momentarily before we tried to spark the team on again.
Any confidence that the team had seemed to evaporate into the freezing air though. The pitch, which had looked OK, now seemed to be a bit rough. But in truth, we were almost completely toothless. A couple of half chances (and that's being generous) came to nothing. The passing was aimless when it wasn't useless, the movement off the ball non-existent and the defence looked fragile down the sides. Lincoln almost added another with about half an hour gone - Clarke a total spectator as the ball whistled past his right hand post after a shot from Ashley Grimes. Then we were handed a lifeline just before half time. Craddock whipped a shot in, the Imps keeper couldn't hold the ball and Maclean nipped in and smashed the ball into the roof of the net. Somehow we were level. Spirits were lifted on and off the pitch. Beano had another half chance but the half time whistle blew with us on the forward foot.
A cold half time, with most of the talk about our luck turning and how fortunate we were to be level at the break. We hadn't really threatened the Lincoln goal, and at times our play was ridiculous. One first half incident springs to mind. There were two strikers waiting in the box, and Batt had the ball on the right wing. He could have crossed it. Instead he passed it backwards to a team mate, who passed it sideways. It was then passed back to Batt - who was in exactly the same position he was to start with but with the defender now a yard away from him, so he couldn't cross. Meanwhile, one of the strikers had come over to 'help'. The four Oxford players then attempted some complicated interpassing which (as so many times in the match) lead to us losing the ball. We had four players in about five yards on on wing, and one striker still waiting forlornly in the middle. Lincoln then swept down the pitch with a dangerous attack, outnumbering the remaining Oxford players. Once more we had changed attack into scrambling defence without threatening the Lincoln goal. There were so many times this happened - a short free kick from Batt which was then tapped back to him and he was immediately tackled for example. But perhaps that was all in the past. Perhaps the second half would see some renewed urgency. Perhaps pigs will fly.
However, we did look marginally better as the second half started. After a couple of off target efforts, we had our best chance to take the lead as Tonkin and Maclean combined to create an opening that Maclean put wide of the keepers left hand post. That was as good as it got. Oxford had the ball, but couldn't do anything with it. The passing game that had looked so good against Bradford, now looked like passing for passing's sake. It was slow and ponderous, more sideways and backwards than forwards. The strikers only ever got the ball with their backs to the goal, with nobody running through from midfield to take a pass. The intricate passing moves often ended with a silly flick that went straight to an opponent, or a hopeful hoof up the pitch to nobody as there was no forward outlet for the next pass. Lincoln just let us get on with it for the most part, while looking threatening themselves on the break. Time after time we didn't take an opportuinity to cross the ball or shoot, preferring to retain possession for no real reason.
Then after about an hour we went mad and scored two goals, our defenders showing the strikers how it's done. Unfortunately both in our own goal. First Worley and then Tonkin. What a let down. Both from crosses from our right, with Batt either lurking up near the half way line or easily skinned (not the first or last time those things had happened in the match either). We had thrown the match away.
CW should have made changes much earlier in the half when our lack of penetration was painfully obvious. Surely he'd do something now? Straight away? Please.
No.
For some bizarre reason he waited another 10 minutes before bringing (within the space of a couple of minutes) Hackney and Potter on for Hall and Craddock. Similar to Saturday. It didn't work then and it didn't work now. Potter refused to stay wide and wandered all over the place, looking OK on the the ball, but not going past his man, and not doing anything with it - giving it away tamely every time. Midson was brought on to score a hattrick with ten minutes to go, but failed. Poor bloke. He always seems to be brought on with a few minutes to go when the match is already lost! And lost it was. A couple of half hearted attempts from Potter and the ref put us out of our misery. Arse. The loyal Us fans clapped the team off the pitch despite a pretty feeble display. No booing.
A bit of friendly banter with some Lincoln fans on the way back to the car - they thanked me for the two goals we'd given them (we'd really given them all three with terrible defending), I thanked them for the one their goalie had given us. We all shook our heads at the incompetence of our players and went home.
A 2 hour drive home went swiftly all things considered. As I drove I thought:
It's a good job we have probably already got enough points to avoid relegation!
Passing the ball about is all very well, but there has to be something on the end of it - a cross, a shot - something.
Is Batt really a full back? He spent most of last night too far up the pitch, leaving three at the back and a bloody great hole that Linoln just used at will. We need more solidity, and his crossing was sometime poor, sometimes non existent. Purkiss please.
We need more movement up front off the ball, and a midfield that will make runs to pick the ball up.
Everything needs to be done much much quicker. Even if we break with the ball, we are so slow that all the defenders have ample time to get back to snuff out the attack.
I don't like a Heslop - Mclaren - Hall midfield. Clist for Hall or Heslop please.
I know we are wedded to a 4-3-3, but can we at least have an attempt at playing a 4-4-2 when Potter and Hackney come on? It's a waste of wingers (if that's what Potter is - I'm not sure that he thinks he's one)
CW needs to be more dynamic with his substitutions and or formation changes. It is all very predictabe at the moment, and it's not working.
Youll notice I haven't mentioned the ref. That's because he did his job properly, treating the game as more important than himself - well done, Mr. Geoff Eltringham. I hope we see you again.
Thanks to Gary and his better half for the hospitality at the Wheatsheaf.
Ah well - Stockport next. Am I going? Despite this performance, yes I am! See you there.
One of the plusses of following the yellows away for me is that you end up driving to and through places you wouldn't normally see. Today's point of interest was Grantham, birthplace of Maggie Thatcher. It wasn't that interesting, really. But it wasn't that far from there to the Wheatsheaf. The pub was easy to find, and made easier to spot by the yellow and blue ballons tied to the outside! Soon there was a small crowd of fellow yellows inside, including LeicesterYellow, LincolnYellow (whose partner runs the pub),the comms team from OUFC (Martin, Darryl and the other two lads whose names I shamefully don't know) and several others. It was all very welcoming, and the fish and chips from the shop over the road were fine although the haddock had a suspiciously cod-like look, taste and texture. I've just thought. Maybe it was cod. We all set off in convoy (if three cars is a convoy) towards the ground with plenty of time to spare. Parking was easy - on a bit of field not far from the ground, £3 for the privilege. A quick stroll up past what I presume is the Sincil (a large stream, small river or whatever) to Sincil Bank.
Sincil Bank is a nice ground. There are two low stands behind each goal, one with hospitality boxes. One side has a stand that runs the length of the ground, the other side is split into three: one open area, a large stand with colourful seating and 'Poachers Corner' which is proabably the smallest stand in the league, having about 40 seats. We were housed in the right hand side of the long side stand - quite similar to the position of away fans at our place. Not my favourite position really. I'd rather be either behind the goal, or much nearer to the centre line. After the recent warmish weather, it was a bit of a shock that it was absolutely brass monkeys. The wind was freezing, whipping into the stadium via the fens, the north sea, Scandinavia and the Artic tundra. Brr.
The team news was that there was no news. Same team again. That was either showing confidence in the team despite the loss to Hereford or desperately unimaginative. Which of these was correct would only be judged with the considerable luxury of hindsight. It was interesting to see that Aaron Woodley was involved in the warm-ups (but not in the the squad) - I wonder if he is getting a bit closer to the team? The pitch looked a bit rough, but not too bad considering all the rain that there has been - and especially compared to some of the pitches that can be seen week in week out on the FL Show!
We were wearing the hideous blue kit. Now I'm going to have a bit of a rant. It used to be that a club had their club colours and a second strip that they ONLY wore when there was a kit clash. For some reason, we now have a home kit and an away kit. I say 'some reason' but I think I know the reason. Money. A chance to get some people to buy two shirts rather than one. Not good enough, and not in the right spirit. We should wear our first strip whenever we can. And yesterday, we could have and should have done so. So next season, let's have:
a) A predominantly yellow 'first' kit. (reverse the colours of the present kit and that would be OK - yellow where the blue is on the shirt, yellow shorts, yellow socks). What really took the biscuit was when Torquay wore their all yellow kit at our place - that shows just how blue this kit is!!
b) An alternative strip that doesn't have blue in it. The white is quite smart.
c) Only wear the second strip when we can't wear the first.
Anyway, whatever colour we were wearing, we started by playing right to left and by hacking the ball into touch. Sigh. For the first five or six minutes we looked fairly good, pressing the Imps back - without creating to much apart from a Heslop shot that went past the post. As against Hereford however, the Us then conceded a goal to the first attack by their opponents. The ball was crossed from the Imps right and a snap shot hit the base of the completely stranded Clarke's right hand post. The Lincoln striker was the first to react to his own rebound and popped the ball into the net. The three hundred or so Oxford fans were silenced momentarily before we tried to spark the team on again.
Any confidence that the team had seemed to evaporate into the freezing air though. The pitch, which had looked OK, now seemed to be a bit rough. But in truth, we were almost completely toothless. A couple of half chances (and that's being generous) came to nothing. The passing was aimless when it wasn't useless, the movement off the ball non-existent and the defence looked fragile down the sides. Lincoln almost added another with about half an hour gone - Clarke a total spectator as the ball whistled past his right hand post after a shot from Ashley Grimes. Then we were handed a lifeline just before half time. Craddock whipped a shot in, the Imps keeper couldn't hold the ball and Maclean nipped in and smashed the ball into the roof of the net. Somehow we were level. Spirits were lifted on and off the pitch. Beano had another half chance but the half time whistle blew with us on the forward foot.
A cold half time, with most of the talk about our luck turning and how fortunate we were to be level at the break. We hadn't really threatened the Lincoln goal, and at times our play was ridiculous. One first half incident springs to mind. There were two strikers waiting in the box, and Batt had the ball on the right wing. He could have crossed it. Instead he passed it backwards to a team mate, who passed it sideways. It was then passed back to Batt - who was in exactly the same position he was to start with but with the defender now a yard away from him, so he couldn't cross. Meanwhile, one of the strikers had come over to 'help'. The four Oxford players then attempted some complicated interpassing which (as so many times in the match) lead to us losing the ball. We had four players in about five yards on on wing, and one striker still waiting forlornly in the middle. Lincoln then swept down the pitch with a dangerous attack, outnumbering the remaining Oxford players. Once more we had changed attack into scrambling defence without threatening the Lincoln goal. There were so many times this happened - a short free kick from Batt which was then tapped back to him and he was immediately tackled for example. But perhaps that was all in the past. Perhaps the second half would see some renewed urgency. Perhaps pigs will fly.
However, we did look marginally better as the second half started. After a couple of off target efforts, we had our best chance to take the lead as Tonkin and Maclean combined to create an opening that Maclean put wide of the keepers left hand post. That was as good as it got. Oxford had the ball, but couldn't do anything with it. The passing game that had looked so good against Bradford, now looked like passing for passing's sake. It was slow and ponderous, more sideways and backwards than forwards. The strikers only ever got the ball with their backs to the goal, with nobody running through from midfield to take a pass. The intricate passing moves often ended with a silly flick that went straight to an opponent, or a hopeful hoof up the pitch to nobody as there was no forward outlet for the next pass. Lincoln just let us get on with it for the most part, while looking threatening themselves on the break. Time after time we didn't take an opportuinity to cross the ball or shoot, preferring to retain possession for no real reason.
Then after about an hour we went mad and scored two goals, our defenders showing the strikers how it's done. Unfortunately both in our own goal. First Worley and then Tonkin. What a let down. Both from crosses from our right, with Batt either lurking up near the half way line or easily skinned (not the first or last time those things had happened in the match either). We had thrown the match away.
CW should have made changes much earlier in the half when our lack of penetration was painfully obvious. Surely he'd do something now? Straight away? Please.
No.
For some bizarre reason he waited another 10 minutes before bringing (within the space of a couple of minutes) Hackney and Potter on for Hall and Craddock. Similar to Saturday. It didn't work then and it didn't work now. Potter refused to stay wide and wandered all over the place, looking OK on the the ball, but not going past his man, and not doing anything with it - giving it away tamely every time. Midson was brought on to score a hattrick with ten minutes to go, but failed. Poor bloke. He always seems to be brought on with a few minutes to go when the match is already lost! And lost it was. A couple of half hearted attempts from Potter and the ref put us out of our misery. Arse. The loyal Us fans clapped the team off the pitch despite a pretty feeble display. No booing.
A bit of friendly banter with some Lincoln fans on the way back to the car - they thanked me for the two goals we'd given them (we'd really given them all three with terrible defending), I thanked them for the one their goalie had given us. We all shook our heads at the incompetence of our players and went home.
A 2 hour drive home went swiftly all things considered. As I drove I thought:
It's a good job we have probably already got enough points to avoid relegation!
Passing the ball about is all very well, but there has to be something on the end of it - a cross, a shot - something.
Is Batt really a full back? He spent most of last night too far up the pitch, leaving three at the back and a bloody great hole that Linoln just used at will. We need more solidity, and his crossing was sometime poor, sometimes non existent. Purkiss please.
We need more movement up front off the ball, and a midfield that will make runs to pick the ball up.
Everything needs to be done much much quicker. Even if we break with the ball, we are so slow that all the defenders have ample time to get back to snuff out the attack.
I don't like a Heslop - Mclaren - Hall midfield. Clist for Hall or Heslop please.
I know we are wedded to a 4-3-3, but can we at least have an attempt at playing a 4-4-2 when Potter and Hackney come on? It's a waste of wingers (if that's what Potter is - I'm not sure that he thinks he's one)
CW needs to be more dynamic with his substitutions and or formation changes. It is all very predictabe at the moment, and it's not working.
Youll notice I haven't mentioned the ref. That's because he did his job properly, treating the game as more important than himself - well done, Mr. Geoff Eltringham. I hope we see you again.
Thanks to Gary and his better half for the hospitality at the Wheatsheaf.
Ah well - Stockport next. Am I going? Despite this performance, yes I am! See you there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)