After a largely uneventful first half, a contentious disallowed goal, a scuffle and a sending off brought the match between Oxford United and Crewe Alexandra to life at Gresty Road on a sunny autumn afternoon.
The train up to Crewe was an interesting journey as my younger brother and I were joined by the classic football anorak, who had spotted our yellow and blue scarves at the back of the carriage. These oddities are one of the three categories of people who tend to travel the long distances to watch their beloved team. The other two are those who adore the atmosphere and those who seek out violence. The anoraks are the fanatics, the ones who travel with the team to watch their pre-season games in somewhere deeply unprepossessing such as Stenhousemuir or Kilmarnock. They can recite the names of almost any player (including the loanees) that have pulled on the club shirt. I had no doubt that this gentleman had been to all corners of the country with Oxford United; from Torquay to Barrow. As the train rattled from Birmingham New Street to Crewe, I was proved right. The man, who sported a mop of bright red hair, wore bulky Cat Boots and had a host of Oxford United badges pinned to his stripy T-shirt proceeded to enlighten us with Oxford United stories of old. This, he told us as we stepped off at the famous Crewe Railway Station was his ‘fifth time’ at Gresty Road. An admirable achievement given that we had not even played Crewe since 1999.
Gresty Road itself is a peculiar stadium. A newly developed stand running along the side of the pitch sits almost the entire Crewe faithful and dominates the other three, battered and run-down stands. The Oxford fans were positioned in one of these ancient stands looking up the state of the art Air Products end. As ever, we had brought a healthy following.
We started poorly, and if truth be told were below par for the whole of the first half. Our passing was sloppy, worsened by the fact that Crewe pressed and harried us on the ball effectively. Dario Gradi, Crewe’s long serving manager had instilled in his team a passing ethos and as such his team were comfortable on the ball, spraying it elegantly across the pitch. However when Crewe finally scored it was not a well-worked footballing goal. Instead, it was a thump from the solid head of centre half and skipper, David Artell off a corner. 1-0 at the break and not much to shout thus far. Well, actually that is not strictly true. The women behind me had indeed found reason to shout. She had not taken a liking the referee, Mr. Eltringham and spent the whole half yelling ‘bumboy’ at the plump official.
The second half was frenetic and made me feel satisfied to have undertaken the two and a half hour journey to the Northern railway town (and three and a half on the way back, but that is another story. Quick tip to those thinking of coming from Crewe to Oxford; do not get off at Wolverhampton. Stay on till Birmingham New Street.) Chris Wilder rung the changes, bringing on Richie Baker, Matt Green and Jack Midson from the bench that meant for the majority of the second half we were essentially playing a 4-2-4 formation. The gamble paid off. Baker was influential, while the pace of Green created chaos in the Crewe defence. That is, until in classic Matt Green fashion, he stopped running with ten minutes to go.
Our goal was brought about by Asa Hall, who ran himself into the ground as ever, who won the ball with a crunching tackle on the half way line, creating a three on one situation in favour of Oxford. It seemed as if Tom Craddock had wasted the opportunity as he dithered on the ball before laying a sloppy pass to the prolific James ‘Beano’ Constable. Beano slammed his shot against the keeper, yet the rebound fell kindly back to the Oxford captain, who scrambled the second attempt home. Our fans went potty (that is apart from the elderly man seated next to me, who just about managed to get to his feet for the goal).
The next twenty minutes were terrific viewing. Oxford were attacking with purpose, tackles were flying in and both sets of supporters had been sucked into the encounter. Our brave formation however meant that we were susceptible to the counter-attack and that is exactly what happened with ten minutes to go (when Matt Green had stopped running). The hate-figure, Clayton Donaldson, who had spent the whole afternoon theatrically going to ground, cut inside the Oxford box and lashed a right-foot shot at Ryan Clarke’s goal. The net rippled, the Oxford fans let out a united groan, and the Crewe fans went wild. My little brother put his head to his hands. Something was not right though. Clarke, a model professional had sprinted to the linesman, his hands held out in disbelief. Oxford’s centre half, Mark Creighton, ‘the Beast’ had followed him for moral support. After a couple of minutes of our players protesting with the officials, the goal was chalked off. I had not seen the incident, yet the ancient fellow next to me explained how Donaldson’s shot had hit his team mate, positioned five yards off side and then flown past keeper Clarke. The officials had therefore made the correct decision. The chant went up of ‘you’re not singing anymore’ to the Crewe fans. It had never been more fitting.
Emotions were running high; fans punched their fists in the air imploring Oxford on. We were awarded a corner, but their goalkeeper collected the goal comfortably, before being floored by captain Constable. A scuffled ensued, with players squaring up to each other. In front of the Oxford fans, Artell put his arm round Craddock’s neck. I saw ‘the Beast’ do the same to one of theirs. After what seemed as if everyone had been cautioned, the game resumed. After what had just happened, it was probably not the best idea for Beano to launch himself into a full-blown tackle on their right back. A second yellow came, and we were without our captain for injury time. We held on though. A battling yet deserved point against a team that will certainly be pushing for promotion.
