Feisty Encounter In Crewe

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.

First League Win

Three vital points, a much improved performance and a hat-trick from talisman, James Constable; Oxford United have got their season back on track.

I was sceptical of our opposition, Morecambe, from the outset. Their shirts were firstly sponsored by the skateboarding clothing brand, ‘Bench.’ Football and skateboarding are quite separate recreations. Let’s keep it that way.

Secondly, the away stand, made up of a hundred hardy souls, were seated the entire game. Having made the four hour drive to the Kassam, I expected to see some passion from the Morecambe faithful. However, when the game got underway, it quickly became clear why they had nothing to shout about. Morecambe were the worst team I have ever seen at the Kassam Stadium. Worse even than St. Albans. They were a shambles; disorganised, un-interested and quite frankly, incapable of keeping hold of the ball. To make matters worse for Morecambe their star player, Phil Jevons, had to be substituted in the first five minutes after clashing heads with Jake Wright.

As such, Oxford were given ample time on the ball and unlike last week’s game against Accrington, we were much better in possession and fizzed the ball around neatly at a high tempo. Last week I wrote how we lacked class in the midfield. No more. Enter Josh Payne, whom Chris Wilder has signed on loan from Doncaster for the month. As Jimmy Ryan had done for Accrington last week, Payne did for Oxford today. He was at the certain of everything, dictating the play and like all great football players, never looked rushed on the ball. He had an aura about him, and his quality showed in the fifteenth minute, where near the corner flag he jinxed past two defenders with an outrageous piece of skill rarely displayed in the lower leagues. Added to these attributes, he can also add a crunching tackle to his repertoire. At 19 years old, he has a bright future ahead of him.

Oxford were completely dominant. A goal was inevitable. What was not inevitable though, was a thirty-yard wonder strike from Simon Heslop that flew into the top right corner. As we roared in delight at the brilliance of a goal we normally have to settle for on Match of the Day, I shouted in Dad’s ear to retract his ‘carthorse’ comment from the previous week. He just laughed in astonished delight. Five minutes later, it was 2-0. A corner was met by the bald head of Constable who powered the ball into the roof of the net. A crucial first league goal from our most gifted goal scorer, valued asset and leader. The half time whistle blew and the Oxford fans rose to their feet. A very satisfactory showing.

The fast, free-flowing football that Oxford had produced in the first half was replaced at beginning of the second by the lethargic, sloppy sort that had been on display the previous week. The pressing game we had performed so effectively in the first half had disappeared. We backed off, allowing the woeful Morecambe team to grow in confidence. Bar a wonderful double-save from our fantastic goalkeeper, Ryan Clarke, Morecambe would have pulled a goal back.

However, this double-save kicked Oxford back into life, aided by the introduction of super-sub Alfie Potter and the tricky Sam Deering. Potter, typically, made an instant impact. He was first scythed down by Morecambe left-back Laurence Wilson, who was sent on his merry way by referee Brendan Malone for a second bookable offence. Off the resulting set-piece, the training ground routine worked a treat (though, not in the way that it was intended). The ball was squared to Payne, whose attempted shot was scuffed and rolled kindly to the feet of predator Constable to smash home. In the final minute, Potter turned the Morecambe defender inside out, before laying ‘Beano’ on a plate for his first football league hat-trick.

A crucial first win, but rest assured that there will be much sterner tests than Morecambe in the season ahead.

Reality Check

Enough talk of Wembley and the Tuesday night trip to Premiership opposition West Ham, this match at home to Accrington Stanley was a return to reality for Oxford United.

Accrington Stanley had brought a travelling army of 123 supporters to the Kassam, armed with a banner stuck to the back of the away end that read, ‘Stanley: the pride of Lancashire.’ This was a fitting statement, for as I read through the match day programme, I noticed that bar an Irishman, a Pole and a Yorkshire man, each and every one of the Accrington Stanley squad hailed from the North West of England, nine of whom were Liverpudlians. I remembered having watched three of them, Ray Putterill, Jimmy Ryan and Craig Lindfield in the Liverpool’s FA Youth Cup win over Manchester United in 2007. Even their manager John Coleman was a committed Lancastrian, having played for Kirby Town, Burscough, Marine, Southport, Runcorn, Macclesfield, Morecambe and Lancaster. Oh, what a glittering career. The whole Accrington Stanley set-up was a far cry from another team in Lancashire, owned by a certain Sheik Mansour. It was a refreshing change to see a squad that was made up almost entirely of local lads that played with a great togetherness and spirit. It was unlike the squad of glitzy individuals amassed by Sheik Mansour 20 miles down the county that are held in common only by a hefty pay check at the end of the week.

Back to the game, the energy and purpose that Oxford had shown at Wycombe the previous week and at Upton Park on Tuesday night had been replaced by laborious punts up into the air and wayward passing. (I have been told we played well at West Ham anyway. I unfortunately could not be at the game, as I was at visiting my girlfriend in Edinburgh. Yes, I know what you’re thinking.) The 4-3-3 formation that had proved so effective in the play-offs in promoting fast flowing attacking football, was now encouraging the long-ball game. Our tactic was very simple. As early as possible, a cross field ball was aimed in the direction of tall Jack Midson on the left wing, who in turn tried to flick it on to the tireless James Constable. It reminded me of the Ian Atkins years, where we were dogged and hard to break down, yet created very few clear-cut chances. It did not make for great viewing. I dreaded a return to those days.

Oxford could just not get a foot-hold in the match. We sorely missed the ability of a Dean Whitehead to take the game by the scruff of the neck, or the quality of an Adam Murray to dictate the proceedings. It still greatly pains me that Murray left us for rivals Luton Town for geographical reasons. For those of you not familiar with the story, it is Oxford United club policy that players must live within a commutable distance of the city. Murray was unwillingly to relocate from Derby, and as such he was released. I never knew Derby was such a wonderful place to live. I mean, the spires of Oxford or the Industrial museum of Derby?

As such, we lacked class and invention and were instead flat and one-dimensional. It was a stark contrast to the youthful Accrington Stanley, who zipped the ball about in a style of football that was attractive on the eye. Jimmy Ryan, their squat central midfield player and ex-Liverpool youth was running the show. He was the best player on display by a country mile.

Oxford were diabolically wasteful in possession. Our full-backs Anthony Tonkin and Ben Purkiss, were particularly sloppy in their distribution, while midfielders Dannie Bulman and Simon Heslop, in his awkward running style, frequently gave away missed placed passes. We failed to release dangerous winger Matt Green down the right flank in a one-on-one with their left back, while star striker Constable was frustratingly isolated. Worryingly, our new signings looked more like squad players, than those able to set a game alight. My Dad, seated next to me, summed it up by labelling out most exciting summer signing, Heslop, as ‘a carthorse.’

The only time in the game when we looked threatening was with the introduction of Alfie Potter. Fleet-footed Potter, as we saw at Wembley is a fantastic option for Chris Wilder on the bench. He is every tiring defender’s nightmare, as he is direct, quick and skilful. With ten minutes left on the clock, he left the Accrington defence for dead, ghosting three defenders before slipping the ball to Constable, who came alive for the first time in the game forcing a great save from the Accrington Stanley goalkeeper, Alex Cisak (who is unsurprisingly the one Pole in the Accrington squad that I alluded to before.)

Welcome back to reality Oxford United. The adventures of Wembley and Upton Park are behind us now. This is going to be a difficult season and a tricky league that will require much better showings that this one if we are to succeed.