Lionel_Perez

Carlisle (Home)

Hurrah. The flu is well and truly gone and I’m back to almost 100% fitness. Just in time as well, this is a crucial match for us. Carlisle are struggling down the bottom as usual, so we’re expected to take three points. Unfortunately we do have an uncanny knack of making seemingly easy games difficult, so no-one is taking it lightly within the fans at least.

Work commitments rule Mick out again (that’s two home games on the trot the fat boy has missed) so today I’m accompanied by my football playing friend Christian. Chris is a Man United fan (he’s a nice guy, honestly) and his record when watching the U’s is patchy at best, but I’m still confident we can turn over Carlisle even with him here. He also owns a restaurant, so I’m treated to a delicious pre-match meal before heading up to the Abbey. I tell him he can come more often. Mick’s never treated me to any kind of food mainly because he’s usually eating it.

Carlisle have finally got shot of their egotistical chairman Michael Knighton, and are now under the guidance of Irish millionaire John Courtenay. He has brought in an Irish manager, Roddy Collins, who in turn has signed many Irish players. He has also brought in a Thai international in winger Tawan Sripan (wonder if he visited the Wrestlers pre-match). Sripan’s presence has ensured a bigger than usual crowd at the Abbey. Usually for a Tuesday night game with Carlisle (150 brave spectators have made the trip, no doubt thanking the football league fixture committee every step of the way) I would expect a crowd of 3500. However, the club haven’t missed a trick here, and have sent free tickets to all the Thai language schools in the area, advertising the fact that one of their own is playing. As a result the crowd has swelled to over 5000, which has to be good PR. It’s nice to see the club is finally getting its commercial act together, especially with money being so tight at the moment.

Speaking of money, our bank balance is looking more healthy by precisely £50,000 thanks to Torquay’s bizarre decision to buy Colin Alcide off us. Obviously the Torquay management see something everyone bar John Beck can’t in big Colin, owner of the widest smile in football. Unfortunately the grin doesn’t come with a proportionate amount of ability, which has led to Alcide becoming a figure of hate around the Abbey. Personally I think some of the criticism he’s taken is unfounded, seeing as he’s suffered badly with injuries. However I’m well happy with a £20k profit on the £30,000 we paid for his services last year, and its another of Beck’s big wages off the bill.

With the big top of the table clash coming up on Saturday, it’s vital we keep up the pressure on Swansea with a win tonight. Despite the new regime Carlisle aren’t pulling up any trees yet, and it’s a game we should win fairly easily.

The Sripan fan club (they’re clearly visible in the cheap seats, complete with their banners and Thai flags) roar their approval as their hero almost provides a goal for Trevor Molloy with a great cross that the striker heads over with Dancing Shaun stranded. We’re looking sluggish and it takes a great double save from Marshall to deny Molloy and Brian Wake. Christian hasn’t seen us play this season, and can’t believe the change in Shaun, who used to spend most of his time looking nervous and dodgy. He also thought I’d been talking Tudor up too much, but a 15th minute run changes his mind. Unfortunately for Tudes, goalkeeper Phil Whitehead stands up well to block his angled drive. No matter though, as from the resulting corner Guttridge rises majestically to head into the net. For those of you who have never seen Guttridge, he’s about 5’ 4". Thus scoring a header is a quite a feat in itself, let alone two in one season.

Our goal was slightly against the run of play, but now we’re on top. Guttridge is thwarted by a sprawling stop from Whitehead, while our new prolific striker Stev Angus sees a goalbound header stopped on the line.

Unfortunately after half time we come out and appear to be doing our old "sit back and settle for 1-0" routine. Although Warner goes close, Gavin Skelton has a firm grip on the midfield now, and Molloy shoots over twice when he should have done better. Sripan departs to a standing ovation, but unfortunately for us his replacement Stuart Brightwell is a lot more effective, and proceeds to tie Roberts in knots. For the first time this season our left back is looking a little rattled, but it looks like we’re going to hold out as the clock ticks on towards full time. But the inevitable happens in the 86th minute. Brightwell sends in another delicious cross which Skelton sweeps in from close range past the helpless Marshall.

Chris is happy because we didn’t lose, the Thai contingent are happy because Sripan reappears to sign autographs, but everyone else in the stadium leaves a little deflated. Not the best preparation for Swansea that’s for sure.

Lionel_Perez

Swansea (Away)

Now this is the kind of day you live for as a football fan. Even at this early stage of the season this tussle between the two best teams in the division is the kind of game the term ‘six pointer’ was invented for. Up to 800 United fans are expected to make the journey, which is an exceptional turn out by our standards, especially as we’ve never won at the Vetch. There has to be a first time for everything I suppose.

Another easy-ish journey on the train takes us deep into the heart of South Wales. I’m sure Swansea can be a lovely place when the sun shines but every time I come here it’s always raining. Thus the whole town always seems to be desolate and grey. Lager cans are quickly hidden away when we pull into Swansea station and are greeted by a gaggle of the local constabulary. Luckily none of us are wearing colours so we walk off the train un-hassled and set off to find a pub.

Past experience tells us everywhere in the town will be closed. Swansea (and their local rivals Cardiff) have some of the most violent, racist, horrible fans you could ever have the misfortune to meet, and with it being such a big game it seems unlikely any of the local landlords will risk opening up. But we get lucky, moving away from the area of the ground and finding a bar full mostly of United fans. The place is a bit of a dive, but it’s better than nothing, and it gets everyone back in the mood for the match.

As predicted it the Amber hordes have turned out in force, and the atmosphere when we get inside the ground is already hotting up. The Vetch field never seems to change. It’s looked the same since that brief period in the early 80’s (or was it the 70’s?) when John Toshack and his team of Liverpool old boys took the Swans into the upper echelons of the old first division. As with most other teams stuck in crap, decaying grounds, there are vague plans for a move to a new all-seater stadium, but for the foreseeable future it looks like the Vetch will continue to serve as a reminder of past glories.

Swansea must be one of the only clubs in the league that still feels the need to fence in the away supporters. This is probably more for our own protection than anything else, as we were pelted with missiles last time we came here, even though it was a meaningless end of season game (we were already safe, they were already down). So who knows what we’ll get today should we pull off a shock result.

At least the locals should be a bit happier this year. The Swans are unbeaten and top the table, and have a formidable lineup including one of the best keepers in the league in Roger Freestone, and 15-goal leading scorer John Williams. Luckily the pacey striker is out injured, but we will still have to contend with his partner in crime James Thomas. Token ex-U of the day is Scott Taylor, a classy midfielder who played a few games for us last season under Beck. Unfortunately he proved to be a bit out of our price range.

United are at full strength, and the tempo of the match is set within six minutes when Tudor makes a powerful burst into the area only to hit a weak shot straight at the keeper. At the other end, a darting run from Taylor sets up a chance for Jonathan Keavaney, but the young striker snatches at his shot allowing Marshall to save. It’s a surprise is that the game remains scoreless for 30 minutes, as both sides rattle the woodwork through Thomas and Simon Rodger. Then a great pass from Guttridge finds Tudor unmarked in the area, and he beats Freestone with an angled shot.

This game is very open considering the two tightest defences in the division are on show. Swansea look a tidy side, but I think if we can hold our lead till half time we’ll win the match. Unfortunately the ref finds four minutes of injury time and these prove to be our undoing. With time running out Stev Angus makes a poor pass which is intercepted by Thomas. The striker waltzes to the by line and cuts the ball back for Keavaney, who makes no mistake from two yards. A terrible time to concede, and the boys look a little deflated as the ref blows for half time as soon as we restart the match.

At half time I try a leak and potato pie, which is absolutely abysmal. Not even the Welsh can cook leaks properly it seems, another of my happy little stereotypes out the window. Luckily the team don’t appear to have sampled any of the food, as they race out of the blocks after half time. Straight from kick off Wanny finds Tudor on the right flank. His cross is aimed at Kitson, who knocks the ball down into the path of Youngs, who puts us in front. A goal of brilliant simplicity, and the Swans are looking shell shocked again.

Not for long though, and Keavaney gives us a taste of what’s to come when his low shot deflects off Gareth Roberts and just wide of the goal. He gets it right two minutes later. Their centre back launches a fairly routine free kick down the middle which goes over Duncan’s head (an old weakness which Andy seems unable to fix) and finds Keavaney, who finishes well from the corner of the box.

Back come the U’s, and a great move involving Tudor, Rodger and Youngs ends with the latter drilling the ball straight at Freestone. Kitson goes close with a curling free kick before the hosts hit back with a sucker punch. Once again it all stems from Taylor, who powers forward from midfield, fending off two half hearted challenges in the process. His shot beats Marshall but rebounds off the post to substitute Middleton, who can hardly miss with the goal gaping.

Swansea have got the bit between their teeth now, and from looking likely winners we’re hanging on a bit:

"I can’t see many teams getting a result here this season," observes Tommy. Indeed, Swansea have looked much more impressive since they scored, with their midfield having assumed complete control of the match. We’re crying out for the pace of Omer Riza, but instead Fallon does his usual trick of pushing Tudor and Youngs right up front in a basic 4-3-3.

And, amazingly, it works. The extra numbers in our attack have pushed their midfield deeper, allowing Rodger to see more of the ball, and we suddenly look dangerous again. Tudor heads over, then hits the side netting with another effort, while Youngs, who’s having his best game for a long while, draws a good save from the keeper.

Then with ten minutes remaining comes one of those match defining moments. Taylor finds time to mount a rare Swansea attack, and his cross is inch perfect for James Thomas, whose header beats Marshy but bounces off the top of the bar and to safety. And 30 seconds later it’s 3-3. Rodgers pass finds Tudor, and although Freestone parries his shot, Youngs is on hand to poke home his second. YYYYEEEEESSSSSSSS!! We’re all trying to get to Youngsy, who incurs the wrath of the home stewards by trying to climb over the fence into our enclosure. And he’s usually such a nice young man, he’s got A-Levels you know.

Anyway, it’s Swansea who seem happy with the draw now, and we pour forward in search of the winner. Rodgers free kick deflects off the wall, and is spinning agonisingly towards the goal before Freestone gets across to just turn it round the post. And right on full time Kitson gets free down the left channel, but blazes his shot high over the bar. Almost the perfect ending to a highly entertaining match. Unfortunately the home fans see fit to spoil things by interrupting our celebrations with a shower of coins. I always thought South Wales was a poor area but conditions must be improving if they can afford to literally throw money away.

Lionel_Perez

Leyton Orient (home)

Although getting a point from Swansea isn’t a bad result, we’ve now drawn our last two games which has allowed the chasing pack to eat away at the little cushion we had built up between ourselves and third place. Amongst the chasers are Leyton Orient, who we face in tonight in the M11 derby.

An unfortunate coincidence means I’ve been in London for a job interview today (that’s right, a proper job. I don’t know what I’ll do if I get it. Cry probably) so I have to travel back up on the train with quite a few East Londoners. Luckily none of them attempt conversation as my suit makes me look more like a regular commuter than a football supporter. The train is meant to get into Cambridge at 7, but as per usual everything is a bit screwed up during rush hour, so we don’t actually arrive until 7.40. My cab gets me to the Abbey swiftly, meaning I only miss five minutes or so of the game. It would’ve been better if I’d had time to get home and change, I look a bit over-dressed for the Habbin.

Orient aren’t really rivals of ours. We’ve only hated them since they stole Fat Tommy and half our team (which as it turned out wasn’t a bad thing) a few years back. As the only Londoners in the division this year, we are their closest rivals geographically, and as a result the South Stand is full to bursting. So much so in fact that they have to open the South Habbin to accommodate all the visitors. On the pitch most of the deserters have moved on to pastures new (Billy Beall, Tony Richards, Shaun Howes and the rest, where are you now? The Ryman League probably). The only Cantabridgian old boys that remain are Matt Joseph (it’s criminal that such a good player is still in Division Three), lardy keeper Scott Barrett, and new signing Neil Mustoe. I’m amazed Mustoe has found another league club. Orient must be desperate.

Mick is looking a bit forlorn when I arrive, although the score is still 0-0. "It’s those bloody kids again," he moans. "They made me spill half me coffee." The three wise monkeys have started bringing a whole bunch of small children with them this season. This would be OK if the kids were actually interested in the match, but they spend most of the time running up and down the tiny gangway beside us. I reckon Micks displeasure is more to do with the fact that he’s been having to converse with fat ginger bloke in my absence:

"Don’t you agree that Bridges should be in the team? Or maybe Fleming? I think we lack something in midfield" he says, butting into our conversation.

"Er, yeah maybe," I say. What rubbish. Our midfield is looking better than it has for ages. Luckily some on pitch action distracts him, and we don’t have to continue the conversation.

The boys look a bit tired after Saturday’s exploits, and our lack of height in defence is being exposed by Kevin Nugent, who is a handful in the air. His header from Lee Thorpe’s cross forces Marshall into a good diving save. But we don’t heed the warning, and a few minutes later the veteran striker climbs highest to nod in a pinpoint cross from Matt Lockwood. Lockwood is very highly rated by the Orient fans, and he almost gets a goal of his own when his free kick is turned onto the post by Marshall. Mustoe also goes close to a goal on his return, and for the first time this season there are mutters of discontent around the Abbey as referee Bartlett blows for half time.

Luckily, as at Swansea, United make a lightning start to the second half. And as has been the case so often in the past, it’s the skipper who leads by example. Paul Wanless steams into a tackle on Lockwood, robbing him of the ball. As the Orient player cries foul, Wanny keeps going and crosses for Kitson, who has two bites of the cherry but manages to toe the ball into the net. And, as at Swansea, the goal perks us up a bit. Three minutes later we almost go 2-1 up when Tudors header rattles the post, and seconds later the same player shoots wide when well placed.

It becoming increasingly apparent that we’re very much a confidence team, and when the confidence is flowing through the side as it is at the moment there aren’t going to be many teams in this league that can cope. However, Orient give us a warning shot when Mustoe (again. Why did he never get forward this much during his United days) skids a shot off the damp surface which Marshy grabs onto at the second attempt.

The constant rain is becoming a real factor now, with a lot of passes going astray, and it plays a part in our winning goal. A trademark run and cross down the right from Tudes finds Rodger on the edge of the box. His shot is straight at Evans, but the ball spins from the young keepers grasp and in the ensuing scramble Guttridge reaches the ball first and scores from close range. It’s good to get back to winning ways, and we’re just one match away from a club record 15 league games without defeat. Hurrah.

Lionel_Perez

York (Away)

Bleh, I can’t cope with late nights and early mornings at my age. Last nights excess’s have taken their toll, and although everyone arrives at the station before our 8.30 departure time, conversation is restricted to a series of monosyllabic grunts. We have to change in Scúmborough, and by the time the train reaches the arse-hole of Cambridgeshire we’ve all woken up a bit, and take the opportunity to get some breakfast. All except Mick that is, who is still feeling a bit rough and (for possibly the first time in history) refuses all food offered to him. In theory our journey on to York should be fairly straightforward, but Saturday engineering works ensure that our train crawls along at about 10 mph, and we don’t get to our destination until just before two.

There’s no doubt about it, York are in the shÃ*t. In the past I’ve been accused of sticking my head in the sand because I maintain that so-called ‘crisis-clubs’ are always bailed out at the last minute, but even I can see York are in serious strife. It looked like they’d been saved a while back when Motor racing big wig John Batchelor brought them out. But while he brought the football side of things, their Bootham Crescent ground is still owned by a separate company, who plan to sell it off to a housing developer. No ground equals no Minstermen, so understandably the York fans are a little peeved. Their supporters are trying to get enough cash together to buy the club, and today their collection buckets are being manned by a group of Brighton fans, who must know all about what the York fans are going through after their own little excursion to Gillingham . It’s nice to see a bit of solidarity amongst football fans, we’re a good bunch really. Unfortunately I think a similar disaster will have to befall us before our own supporters trust (Cambridge fans United) gets any wide spread support. That’s the apathetic Cambridge public for you.

Bootham Crescent is a bit of a dump to be honest, and I can’t imagine many opposition fans will shed a tear if/when York move away or find the cash to redevelop. Once again we’re fenced in, and this time there’s the added bonus of not having any protection from the elements. As much as I’m always moaning about these identikit, breeze block all-seater stadiums that are springing up all over the place (ref: Northampton, Scunthorpe, Bournemouth etc), it’s always nice to have a roof over your head, especially on days like this. It’s pretty wet, and with the wind chill factor the temperature is probably sub-zero.

It’s also hard to create any atmosphere, as any singing tends to float away from the ground, but the United travelling die-hards, who number about 250, make themselves heard when we take the lead with the fastest goal of the day. York kick off, and play the ball back to Gavin Rae. He tries a long pass out to the right flank, but Tudor intercepts, and uses his pace to shrug off the attentions of Chris Brass before finishing with a rasping drive into the top corner.

The home side, backed by a bigger than average crowd (getting to see us play must be quite an enticement) don’t seem too deterred by the early setback, and are on terms two minutes later. And it’s a fairly simple goal, which exposes some of our defensive frailties. Edmondsen is left in acres of space on the right flank, and his cross is side footed home by Mathie. A few minutes later, a procession of the old and the young file into the away end, indicating the arrival of the away travel coach. They’re usually late for one or two games a season, and are greeted with amusement by the rest of us.

Of course the nightmare for the late-comers is that the game will end 1-1, thus they will have missed all the goal action. Luckily for them Kitson is at his bullish best, pulling the home defenders all over the place. His deserved goal comes in the 27th minute when he nods in a Youngs cross, and four minutes later Tudor taps in his second to give us a commanding half time lead. York are looking every inch a side who haven’t been paid for six weeks, and the general consensus at half time is that there are a hatful of goals here for the taking.

Unfortunately this is one area of our game that needs a lot of work, as we seem incapable of really going for the jugular when we are on top. Youngsy runs clear three minutes after the restart to make it 4-1, but almost immediately Mathie pulls one back to reduce the deficit to two goals. And as usual we retreat into our shell, and invite York to do the attacking. Stev twice has to clear the ball of the line, while Jon Parkin hits the bar and Marshy has to be alert to deny Mathie a hatrick. In the end our victory is comfortable enough, but it’s a shame we couldn’t have boosted our goal difference a bit against such obviously demoralised opposition.

Anyway, rumour has it that Swansea have lost at home to Carlisle. We all cram into a local pub to watch the scores come in, and yes, it’s true. Tawan Sripans 38th minute penalty condemned them to their first defeat of the season, and we have taken over at the top of the table. SAY WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE, SAY WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE! The journey home is a lot happier and noisier than the journey down.

gino

This is superb LP.

Lionel_Perez

Cheers Gino

Oxford (Home)

Oh jolly good, Oxford. This means the boat race, Kings College chapel, footlights, punts and all the other crappy Oxbridge references that the media love dragging up every time we play the fake U’s. The fact that the universities hate their respective football teams and vice versa seems to have escaped them. I’m fairly ambivalent towards the Uni personally. While the students are a pain in the arse and the football club suffers as a result of their presence, the colleges do bring a certain amount of character to the City. Otherwise we might be some bland, dull place like, shudder, Peterborough. Once again the club haven’t missed the trick commercially, and students can attend this game for £1. That should ensure a fairly large crowd at least

Before the game we all head to the Hogshead in Regent Street, and watch jammy old Man United win the Manchester derby thanks to two goals in the last two minutes. The Mancs are already streaking clear of Arsenal at the top of the Premiership table, and now sit seven points clear with a game in hand. While this is the end of a good day footballing-wise for most of the glory hunters who are in the pub, we have a proper match to go. The walk across Parkers Piece, up Mill Road and across Coldhams Common to the Abbey takes a bit longer than anticipated, and we only arrive in the ground just before the teams come out. Apparently we’ve missed the announcement that Tudor has signed a 4-year contract extension. This is excellent news. Tudes has been in blinding form this season, and when he inevitably moves on to better things we should be able to command a hefty fee.

Oxford, who are backed by a large travelling support, are managed by a former United manager in the form of Ian Atkins. He arrived here after Beck’s first spell in 1993, surprisingly getting the job ahead of caretaker manager and fans favourite Gary Johnson. This didn’t get him off to the best start with the supporters, and some crazy buys (£155,000 for strikers Neil Lyne and Kevin Bartlett, who scored 1 goal between them in their U’s careers) together with his bizarre defensive tactics ensured our relegation and his eventual removal. Atkins has been making bitter comments about his stint at United ever since, so he’s not a popular fellow in these parts. Today he’s abandoned his favoured wingback system in favour of 442. However, he has cunningly deployed two centre backs in midfield to give the lineup a typically defensive look.

The problem with arriving late is that our regular spot has been taken by a group of students (and judging by their hair, clothes, and sense of humour they can only be Cambridge students) so me and Mick have to squeeze into the gangway and obstruct everyone trying to get in or out. It’s always worried me that the stewards never do anything to move people out of the walkways. I guess there’s never really any possibility of crushing at Cambridge games, and it’s not like I’m complaining today as we’ve got a pretty good view.

The first 15 minutes of the match shape up like a training ground drill - attack against defence. It’s easy to see why Oxford have scored the fewest goals in the top half of the table, and their ambitions obviously don’t stretch much further than earning a point. We score in the 14th minute after Kitson has been blocked off on the left hand corner of the box by Whitehead. Kits takes the free kick quickly, chipping it to the back post where Tudor is on hand to celebrate his new deal by heading in his 11th goal of the season. But, unbelievably, Oxford are on terms three minutes later with their first attack of the match. The brilliantly named Manny Omoyinmi puts the cross in that Paul Powell volleys past Marshall.

We’re being out-sung again. The Oxford fans were pretty loud before their goal, and now they’ve scored there’s no stopping them. They only sing when they’re rowing, apparently. It’s a shame that the NRE never seem to sing at all these days, especially as we’re so vocal on our travels. On the pitch the match has settled back into it’s initial pattern, but we can’t find a way through the determined visitors. They do defend very well, and the U’s are restricted to a couple of long rangers from Guttridge and Kitson. We also have a fairly decent penalty shout turned down by referee Donnelly after a push on big Dave by Matt Bound.

By half time the tea bar has run out of bacon rolls, which is a bit of a disappointment, especially as the students nipped out just before the break and managed to get their hands on some. Bloody part timers. I’m all for us attracting new fans and everything, just not when they steal my space and nick my (potential) food. It wouldn’t be so bad if they actually displayed some kind of football knowledge, but they spent much of the first half loudly taking the pÃ*ss out of Paul Wanless. Now admittedly Wanny is hardly a natural athlete, but he bleeds black and amber and performs a vital role in our team. He certainly doesn’t deserve to have his gut ridiculed by our own ‘fans’. Oh well, if they become regulars they’ll learn soon enough.

United are in the ascendancy again as the second half gets under way, and a trademark long-ranger from Tudor forces a good save from the visiting keeper. Fallon brings on Riza with half an hour to go, and the little wizard immediately makes a dash down the left and sets up Rodger for a shot that goes just over the bar. Eight minutes later we go in front again with a well deserved goal for Kitson. His initial shot is blocked by Bound, but spins out to Roberts who returns the ball to the near post for the big striker to dispatch with a clinical right foot strike.

Oxford are coming out of their shell now, leaving a few gaps at the back which we exploit through the pace of Tudor and Riza. But we can’t find the third goal our performance warrants, and we’re punished with four minutes left. This time Powell is the provider, as his cross from the left drifts through a sea of bodies to Omoyinmi. Although Marshy gets a hand to the Nigerian’s shot, he can’t stop it trickling into the goal, and taking another two points with it. Atkins greets the final whistle with a smug punch in the air, while the students leave the ground chuckling about Marshall’s attempts to prevent the second equaliser. We still haven’t lost a game, but too many draws are going to cost us if we’re not careful, as Swansea have won and are back on top. I don’t like to be over critical while things are going so well, but we need to show a bit more sharpness in front of goal if we are going to maintain this position.

Lionel_Perez

Rochdale (Away)

Rochdale, home of Gracie Fields, and, er, the only team to have never been promoted in their history. We spend a bit of the journey up trying to think of other things Rochdale is famous for, but apart from being a BNP stronghold we’re at a bit of a loss. Spotland will always hold a special place in the hearts of U’s fans due to it being the ground where we secured promotion in 1999. That night other results were going our way, but with the score at 0-0 in our match we weren’t going up. Step forward John Taylor, who appeared as sub with 15 minutes to go and scored two goals to ensure our promotion and further add to his growing legend status. Was I there? No. I was a poor student then and a Tuesday night in Rochdale was out of my budget, and yes I am still bitter nearly four years later.

Anywho this is our first return to Spotland since then, and the team are going to reward me with at least a 5-0 win. Anything else and I’ll be disappointed, especially seeing as ‘Dale aren’t exactly setting the world on fire. They parted company with John Hollins after last years play-off defeat to Rushden, and installed veteran winger Paul Simpson as player/manager. Simpson is still a classy player by all accounts, but appears to be struggling managerially, and despite a talented squad his team are languishing in the bottom half of the table.

Thomas and William are my companions today, and after a fairly uneventful journey we arrive in Rochdale by 5.40. Will is on driving duty, but that doesn’t stop me and Tommy enjoying a couple of pints in a pub near the ground before we head to Spotland. There’s no doubt about it, pubs oop north are friendlier than their southern counterparts. This one could almost be part of a hovis advert, right down to the old bloke in the corner with enormous mutton chops nursing a mug of bitter. They also do excellent food. My shepherds pie is top notch, and none of us regret ignoring the Whetherspoons we saw earlier when driving through the town.

Spotland itself is an example of how well old grounds can be redeveloped. Set amongst streets (not cobbled, unfortunately) of terraced houses, it’s a smart compact arena, with seats on three sides. ‘Dale have very generously given us the whole of one side of the ground, which means the 200 or so United fans who have made the trip get about a row of seats each. If only the quality of the pitch matched up to the stands. It’s been raining since we got here, and the playing surface looks like a mud-heap. There are even a couple of puddles forming.

Team news is that Fallon keeps faith with the side that drew with Oxford, while the home side’s token ex-U of the day is Paul Connor, who spent three months on loan with us in 2000/01. I quite liked Connor at the time, but unfortunately we couldn’t afford the £100,000 asking price his old club Stoke wanted. Not such a bad thing in hindsight - he’s certainly no Kitson.

The match begins and it’s clear where Rochdale’s problems lie. They line up in a 4-4-2 formation, but in reality it is more like 2-6-2, as their full backs bomb forward leaving the poor central defenders exposed. No wonder they have the worst defence in the league. That said, they’re pretty nifty going forward, and Connor warms Marshy’s hands in the third minute with a skidding shot. Both managers have obviously told their players to use the wet weather, and shots are raining in (hoho) from everywhere. Neil Edwards in the home goal makes a great double block to deny Tudor and Kitson before Roscoe Dsane has a goal ruled out by the over-fussy referee for pushing.

After 21 action-packed minutes we take the lead. A huge throw from Gareth Roberts lands at the feet of Kitson, who turns well and hooks a shot into the bottom corner. ‘Dale equalise six minutes later when a shot from the lively Dsane squirms from Marshall’s grasp, allowing Beech to score from close range. Chances come and go at both ends, but it’s the home side who almost go into the break on top when a Connor header is smuggled off the line by a combination of Marshall and Roberts. The half time whistle brings an end to a highly entertaining half, despite the conditions, and both teams are warmly applauded off the pitch.

Stats will later show that the two teams amassed a hefty 37 shots between them in the match, and it’s amazing that there is no more scoring until the 81st minute. The mercurial Simpson has been tormenting Warner all day, and he beats the hapless fullback for the millionth time and crosses for Connor to nod in a simple goal. Suddenly the first defeat of the season is looming very large. The boys are looking tired and our forwards, particularly Youngs and sub Omer Riza, keep falling over because of the conditions. Luckily Simon Rodger still seems fresh as a daisy, and straight from kick he powers through the home defence towards the penalty area. Although a tackle from Durkin stops him in his tracks, Youngs picks up the loose ball, and drills it into the bottom corner to make it two a piece.

Both teams deserve the three points here, and as the match heads into injury time a slip from Guttridge sets Lee Hodges away. He goes past Angus and Roberts, and hits a low shot that is heading for the bottom corner until Marshall flings himself across the goal, gets a hand to the shot then snatches the loose ball away from any lurking strikers. We’re still applauding Marshy for the save when his huge clearance floats over their backline to Kitson, who draws an equally brilliant stop from Edwards. The resulting corner finds Riza, whose header is beaten out by Edwards into the path of Stev Angus. That’s right, Stev Angus, the most goal shy player in history of football. The last person you would want faced with an open goal. The away fans hold their collective breath and pray. We’re of course forgetting that since his goal at Bristol Stev has become a goal hungry scoring machine. And now he wants to build his moment up a bit. He wipes some mud off his forehead, straightens his dreadlocks, takes aim and slams the ball into the net. YEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

I always find it hard to explain what I do when we score. In the past I’ve broken seats, watches and toes, and hugged random people (ref: fat ginger bloke earlier this season). This time, me, Tommy, Will and about 15 others charge down to the front to try and get to Stev, who has run across towards the away fans before disappearing under a heap of his jubilant team mates. I swear I’d have been on the pitch with them were it not for my lack of fitness. Tommy attempts to jump over an advertising board but catches it with his trailing leg and falls flat on his face, much to our amusement.. The final whistle sounds 30 seconds later, to end another blinding match. Fair play to Rochdale (who should climb the league soon playing like that) for being part of such a great advert for the third division.

A late winner always leaves me on a massive high, and I spend the whole journey home giggling at Tommy’s attempt at a one-man pitch invasion. He’ll be a proper hard man one day, maybe.

[This message was edited by Lionel Perez on 30 April 2003 at 10:27.]

displaced_seagull

Rochdale?

Lisa Stansfield

This is brilliant LP :thup:

Tricky Winger

Still superb
Please don't let that slow and unfinished CM4 thing stop the development of this great story.

Lionel_Perez

Cheers Boys. Progress will continue to be a bit slow because it is quite time consuming to write

Hednesford (Away)

The nightmares started as soon as the draw was made. Yeovil, Woking, Stevenage, Morecambe and now Hednesford? Ok, so I haven’t really been losing sleep but the fact remains we have a diabolical record against non-league sides in the cup. So when we were drawn against Hednesford you could hear the groans from St. Ives to Shelford. A capacity crowd is expected for the Dr. Martens league sides biggest game of the season, and their pitch is allegedly on a par with the London Road beach. At least the game doesn’t have enough romance to attract the Match of the Day cameras, that would’ve sealed our fate.

Steve Fallon has hardly helped things by announcing that he plans to field a weakened side. Not only has this riled up Hednesford, who claim it’s disrespectful, but its pÃ*ssed off a lot of our fans. Like me they’ve seen enough of our embarrassing exits over the years to know that Cambridge United are capable of losing to anyone, and that crappy non-league sides don’t need winding up before cup ties. I realise Fallon wants to keep the first-teamers fresh as a lot of them are young and tired, but playing a reserve side is asking for trouble if you ask me. On the up side, we get to see John Taylor in action again for the first time in a year or so. The old legs have still got a goal or two in them I reckon. Plus it should be a chance for some of the fringe players to press their claims for a regular start.

No-one actually knows where Hednesford is. Apparently it’s near Birmingham but seeing as none of us have ever been there we’re all a bit wary about driving. The train is out because trains to Hednesford at the weekend are few and far between, so it looks like the away travel coach until Will finally volunteers to drive us into the unknown. It turns out Hednesford is just a big housing estate tacked onto the end of Cannock. Seriously, this must be the dullest place in the world, there aren’t even any shops. Their ground is situated right at the end of a trading estate near the motorway, next to a dust cart depot. Why are new grounds always built in the most horrible locations. Keys Park isn’t a bad ground for a Doc Martens league side. Certainly it’s a lot better than Milton Road, the home of our esteemed non-league rivals (and I use the term loosely) Cambridge City. The United contingent are behind the goal at the ‘motorway’ end of the ground, and are already in fine voice by the time we arrive.

Many of our younger fans could be forgiven for not recognising half the players warming up on the pitch before them, seeing as a few of them haven’t appeared since last season. Only Marshall, Roberts, and Rodger retain their places from Tuesday nights team, while young Owen Paynter makes his debut up front in the most surprising team change. I was hoping to see the supremely gifted Armand One for the first time this season, but apparently the big French oaf is injured. Hednesford aren’t pulling up any trees in their league, and their only player of note is veteran 7 foot beanpole Kevin Francis, scorer of 23 goals in 19 games this season. The Doctor Martens league must be really bad.

Reports of a capacity crowd can’t be far wrong, and by 2.55 the stadium is filled with 5000 angry brummies baying for league blood. We’re gonna lose, I just know it. The home mob almost get the goal they crave after just six minutes. Inevitably the chance comes from a Francis flick on, which finds Steve Piearce, whose header is straight at Marshall. The home team don’t stand on any ceremony, lumping the ball towards Francis at every opportunity. Playing football on this pitch would be a waste of time anyway. We’re looking more direct as well, with Paynter and Omer Riza joining John Taylor in a three-pronged attack. Young David Bridges is playing well in midfield, and he has a decent penalty shout turned down when he’s clattered by Richard Lucas in the box. At the other end a slip from Richard Smith lets Piearce in, but he slips at the crucial moment and the chance is gone. Two minutes later we’re in front.

A great ball from Terry Fleming (never thought I’d use those words in the same sentence) releases Riza, who accelerates away from his marker and coolly slips the ball under the keeper. Our hopes receive a further boost just before half time when Francis hobbles off injured. He may be next to useless on the ground these days, but his height has been causing our diminutive centre backs all sorts of problems. Maybe we can win this after all. We’ve weathered the early storm and silenced the home crowd in the process. One thing Hednesford get top marks for is their food. The spicy potato wedges I sample would be more at home in a restaurant than a football ground.

We almost go two up in the opening minutes of the second half when a neat chip from Shaggy finds Omer lurking at the back post. But with the goal at his mercy he heads wide. Hednesfords most dangerous player is player/coach Les Robinson, who has been making some decent forays down the right flank and delivering some teasing crosses. One such centre is our undoing, as it skims across the goalmouth to Richard Lucas, who scores at the second attempt after Marshy bravely blocks his first shot. That’s woken the Brummies up again. A spot in the second round draw and all the lucrative opportunities that brings is looking a real possibility now, as our players are getting more nervous by the second. Marshy keeps us in it with a great parry to deny Francis’s replacement, Paul Underwood, and from the resulting corner the same player is unlucky to see his downward header bounce over the bar.

At that stage I think most of us would’ve settled for a replay, but then a long hoof down the line from Adam Tann reaches Riza, whose low cross is tucked away by the ever-youthful John Taylor. He may be a bit podgier round the edges these days, but the legend still knows where the goal is, and his 104th goal in United colours puts us back in the driving seat. The home crowd roar their boys forward again, but the expected onslaught doesn’t materialise and our victory would’ve been more emphatic were it not for the goalkeeping of Mark Gayle, a former U’s triallist. In the end our victory is fairly comfortable, and we race back to the car in time to hear the second round draw; Number 27, Cambridge United, will play………….Number 5, Cardiff City. Well at least it’s a home tie, which gives us a chance I guess. Plus I’m sure the Cambridgeshire constabulary will be delighted at the prospect of the Cardiff fans coming to town again.