nPower League Two
OUFC 0 Gillingham 1
Meh.
Monday, 22 November 2010
Monday, 15 November 2010
I'd Rother Not Bother.
Saturday, 13th November 2010.
nPower League Two
Rotherham United 2 OUFC 1
Better. Much Better. Yet still nothing to show for it.
My new wife & I decided to make a weekend of this one. Not that she would be coming to the game of course - oh no, I've learnt my lesson there about trying to force football upon her. But she will, at least, tolerate my obsession and from time to time allow me to build a weekend around it if there is something in it for her.
With the rather large shopping complex of Meadowhall only 2 miles away from Don Valley Stadium, Rotherham's odd decision to become Sheffield's third team* certainly helped in this regard. As did a friend's house party in Leeds that evening. And my wife's grandma inviting us for Sunday lunch in Doncaster the following day. I love it when a plan comes together.
So, off we set early on Saturday morning up the M1 to the outskirts of Sheffield to Itinerant Rotherham's new ground.
Well, I say 'ground', but what I actually mean is athletics track. This was not a football ground, quite clearly. It did have a nice enough stand down the side, that the Rotherham fans were in. Then it had 2 small single-block covered stands either-side of the main stand, looking onto the corner of the pitch - one of which housed the travelling U's fans. Completing the circuit around the athletics track were a number of uncovered blocks, all un-used leaving around ¾ of the ground looking rather desolate and empty.
As you can see, the view was pretty cock from where we were. I could just make out the far goal, beyond the long jump sand pit and steeplechase water jump. The atmosphere was even worse than the view though - as you might expect from a ground miles away from the fucking pitch and with three empty sides.
nPower League Two
Rotherham United 2 OUFC 1
Better. Much Better. Yet still nothing to show for it.
My new wife & I decided to make a weekend of this one. Not that she would be coming to the game of course - oh no, I've learnt my lesson there about trying to force football upon her. But she will, at least, tolerate my obsession and from time to time allow me to build a weekend around it if there is something in it for her.
 |
| Don Valley: It's Just Not Football. |
It was cold last week at Burton, but colder still in Sheffield - and as I watched Rotherham's second go in just after 30 mins, I couldn't help wondering whether it might be nicer sat in Cafe Rouge with a Steak Frites and a glass of Stella with my wife, only 2 miles away.
As it was I was sat with blue fingers sipping luke-warm tea and listening to some of the more backwards Oxford fans around me talking utter shite, and wondering how the hell they managed to survive this long in life.
As it was I was sat with blue fingers sipping luke-warm tea and listening to some of the more backwards Oxford fans around me talking utter shite, and wondering how the hell they managed to survive this long in life.
One guy was still shouting and swearing at the ball boys having a kick around with a ball that had gone out of play a full 2 minutes after another ball boy had already sent a second ball into play and the game had resumed. When he eventually noticed that the game had re-started while the ball he clearly thought was the only one in the ground was still with the ball boys, it very nearly blew his fragile mind.
Despite a spirited performance, there was no way back from the Le Fondre brace for Oxford it seemed, and so we sunk to yet another defeat and alarm bells might well be sounding for some. Not for me though - I was impressed with new loanees Wotton & MacLean, and thought that generally we played well and on another day might have even won, rather than coming away with nothing.
And it could be worse. It must be fucking terrible for Rotherham fans, to be fair. Not only do they have to travel to the next town to see their team play, but to the next town that already has two much better Football League sides in it, so they are hardly likely even to pick up any new fans. They are more likely to just have the piss taken out of them by any Wednesday & United fans that come across the brave few souls who cross the M1 on a matchday into enemy territory.
Luckily for them, yet certainly not for us, they have Mr Le Fondre at the moment and the way he's scoring, I don't imagine we'll see him still with the Millers for the return fixture in Oxford next February.
He proved the difference on the day, as both teams got into space, had good chances, made mistakes - but Mr Le Fondre put his away very simply where perhaps we did not make the best of ours.
Soon we were being forced to make the walk of shame out of the ground around the track, past 7 or 8 blocks of empty seats that will presumably only ever be filled if Usain Bolt were to visit during an athletics meet.
It was certainly an odd place to watch a game of league football, and one I'd rather wasn't a football venue. I must admit to be hankering somewhat for a rickety old moss-covered stand, crumbling underfoot, with the threat of iron girders falling from above never far from your mind. Ahh, the beauty of what should be the lower leagues.
Instead of driving South with all the other mildly-disgruntled Oxford fans, I was heading North up the M1 after the game, to Leeds for the house-warming of a Sheffield Wednesday fan. One interesting snippet from him to end the day, was that Steve MacLean was absolute class when he was with them, just a few years ago.
Let's hope he has still got it.
He was also a fucking Astronaut, I ought to add. Amazing guy.
*Rotherham are even in the process of changing names it seems to 'The Sheffield Eagles', judging by all the signs around the ground.
It was certainly an odd place to watch a game of league football, and one I'd rather wasn't a football venue. I must admit to be hankering somewhat for a rickety old moss-covered stand, crumbling underfoot, with the threat of iron girders falling from above never far from your mind. Ahh, the beauty of what should be the lower leagues.
Instead of driving South with all the other mildly-disgruntled Oxford fans, I was heading North up the M1 after the game, to Leeds for the house-warming of a Sheffield Wednesday fan. One interesting snippet from him to end the day, was that Steve MacLean was absolute class when he was with them, just a few years ago.
Let's hope he has still got it.
He was also a fucking Astronaut, I ought to add. Amazing guy.
Monday, 8 November 2010
Burton Men Swear
Sunday, 7th November 2010
FA Cup - 1st Round
Burton Albion 1 OUFC 0
Fucking Hell.
I'm gonna break with tradition in this entry and talk a little bit more about the actual game than I usually do. Because it was rather poor yesterday.
First though, the normal pointless ramble about my pre-match.
The day started quite badly, to be honest, as I had a bastard behind the eyes after a few too many in my parents' pub on Saturday night. Even one of my mother's famous cooked breakfasts wasn't going down very well. In fact it was close to coming back up very rapidly. The idea of driving to the home of beer after the skinful I'd had the night before didn't appeal much either.
So I was pleased to have been offered a lift from Oxford to Burton by a friend, and so soon set off to make this lift. I couldn't help noticing how beautiful the autumnal colours of the trees were on this crisp day as I drove down the A4074, so I slowed to capture the image below on my phone.
Only on looking back later did I notice the omen of our early exit from the FA Cup in the bottom left-hand corner of the photo, a grave marker. If you look closely, it clearly marks the end of our season...
We arrived swiftly in Burton after a good run and straight to The Beech Inn just down the road from the ground, an old haunt ever since our first visit there back in 2006. Just in time to see Count von Count from Sesame Street commence the 2nd Round draw.
Always nice to be in the hat for the next round, and for once we were in it before knowing whether we'd progressed due to the Sunday kick-off of our game with Burton.
Much excitement in The Beech, as it was possible not only to draw Swindon, but perhaps even Swindon Supermarine. Imagine.
As it was, The Count wasn't able to give us a plum draw, instead getting the League 2 leaders Chesterfield at home. Shit draw.
Not that it would matter anyway of course by 5pm, as a grossly inadequate performance meant we were out and this season's cup exploits over without even the hint of a whimper.
Not sure where to start on the game itself. I don't think I've ever seen an Oxford side look so inept, so woefully out of shape, so lacking in desire for the ball or inspiration as the one that took to the field in the 1st half.
I'm loathe to criticise what I don't understand, but I don't think I've ever seen a team start with 4 full-backs on the pitch before. Quite novel. Perhaps Wilder has come up with a revolutionary new tactic designed to totally baffle the other side.
Sadly, it seemed more to baffle his own players, none of who seemed to know where they were supposed to be, weren't picking up their men and become totally over-ran by a Burton side who looked a division above Oxford for the entire first half.
After the woeful form of Tonkin in recent weeks, and the lack of decent crossing in the team noticeable especially against Turkey in mid-week, you'd have thought Kinniburgh & arguably our best crosser Purkiss were due a recall. Well, they were recalled, but not instead of the incumbents, AS WELL as them.
Wilder on acid? Such suspicions seemed to have more weight when changes in the 2nd half saw one of the four starting full-backs, Purkiss, moved to centre-midfield. Strangely though, this seemed to improve things somewhat - which sadly only highlights how inept and out of the game our midfield had been until this point.
As my hangover seemed to get worse, the home fans seemed to be taunting me with chants of "Brewers, Brewers!" ringing out around the ground. Well, I say ringing out - I more mean shallowly audible above the swearing and tutting from the away terrace.
Although we did start to play in the 2nd half, you just always felt it was a matter of time before Burton grabbed something - and only the most blinkered of fans would suggest they deserved anything more than to progress to the 2nd Round at our expense.
Make no mistake, had we been playing a more clinical side yesterday, or Clarke hadn't had another good game closing down quickly when the players in front of him had let Burton waltz through the middle of them, we'd have lost the game by a hatful of goals.
Something clearly is wrong somewhere right now. Confidence is low and there seems to be a general malaise at the moment among the players and the fans.
Things change quickly though and we can only hope that Wilder gets to the bottom of it soon before the season really will be over as far as any ambitions of sneaking into the play-offs are concerned.
To quote the bard - "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark".
To quote the bloke stood next to me yesterday - "Fucking Hell Oxford! Sort it fucking out you fucking cunts!"
FA Cup - 1st Round
Burton Albion 1 OUFC 0
Fucking Hell.
I'm gonna break with tradition in this entry and talk a little bit more about the actual game than I usually do. Because it was rather poor yesterday.
First though, the normal pointless ramble about my pre-match.
The day started quite badly, to be honest, as I had a bastard behind the eyes after a few too many in my parents' pub on Saturday night. Even one of my mother's famous cooked breakfasts wasn't going down very well. In fact it was close to coming back up very rapidly. The idea of driving to the home of beer after the skinful I'd had the night before didn't appeal much either.
So I was pleased to have been offered a lift from Oxford to Burton by a friend, and so soon set off to make this lift. I couldn't help noticing how beautiful the autumnal colours of the trees were on this crisp day as I drove down the A4074, so I slowed to capture the image below on my phone.
 |
| Autumn Colours: Grave |
We arrived swiftly in Burton after a good run and straight to The Beech Inn just down the road from the ground, an old haunt ever since our first visit there back in 2006. Just in time to see Count von Count from Sesame Street commence the 2nd Round draw.
 |
| "Welcome to FA Headquarters for the FA Cup 2nd Round Draw. Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha" |
Always nice to be in the hat for the next round, and for once we were in it before knowing whether we'd progressed due to the Sunday kick-off of our game with Burton.
Much excitement in The Beech, as it was possible not only to draw Swindon, but perhaps even Swindon Supermarine. Imagine.
As it was, The Count wasn't able to give us a plum draw, instead getting the League 2 leaders Chesterfield at home. Shit draw.
Not that it would matter anyway of course by 5pm, as a grossly inadequate performance meant we were out and this season's cup exploits over without even the hint of a whimper.
Not sure where to start on the game itself. I don't think I've ever seen an Oxford side look so inept, so woefully out of shape, so lacking in desire for the ball or inspiration as the one that took to the field in the 1st half.
I'm loathe to criticise what I don't understand, but I don't think I've ever seen a team start with 4 full-backs on the pitch before. Quite novel. Perhaps Wilder has come up with a revolutionary new tactic designed to totally baffle the other side.
Sadly, it seemed more to baffle his own players, none of who seemed to know where they were supposed to be, weren't picking up their men and become totally over-ran by a Burton side who looked a division above Oxford for the entire first half.
After the woeful form of Tonkin in recent weeks, and the lack of decent crossing in the team noticeable especially against Turkey in mid-week, you'd have thought Kinniburgh & arguably our best crosser Purkiss were due a recall. Well, they were recalled, but not instead of the incumbents, AS WELL as them.
Wilder on acid? Such suspicions seemed to have more weight when changes in the 2nd half saw one of the four starting full-backs, Purkiss, moved to centre-midfield. Strangely though, this seemed to improve things somewhat - which sadly only highlights how inept and out of the game our midfield had been until this point.
As my hangover seemed to get worse, the home fans seemed to be taunting me with chants of "Brewers, Brewers!" ringing out around the ground. Well, I say ringing out - I more mean shallowly audible above the swearing and tutting from the away terrace.
Although we did start to play in the 2nd half, you just always felt it was a matter of time before Burton grabbed something - and only the most blinkered of fans would suggest they deserved anything more than to progress to the 2nd Round at our expense.
Make no mistake, had we been playing a more clinical side yesterday, or Clarke hadn't had another good game closing down quickly when the players in front of him had let Burton waltz through the middle of them, we'd have lost the game by a hatful of goals.
Something clearly is wrong somewhere right now. Confidence is low and there seems to be a general malaise at the moment among the players and the fans.
Things change quickly though and we can only hope that Wilder gets to the bottom of it soon before the season really will be over as far as any ambitions of sneaking into the play-offs are concerned.
To quote the bard - "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark".
To quote the bloke stood next to me yesterday - "Fucking Hell Oxford! Sort it fucking out you fucking cunts!"
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
Pre-Christmas Turkeys
Tuesday, 2nd November 2010.
nPower League TwoOUFC 0 Turkey 2
For some reason, I knew it wasn't going to be a good evening early on yesterday, when I had an argument with the man in the Branos fast food outlet on Blackbird Leys on my way to the game.
Regular readers will know that I often chow down on a Branos spicy chicken burger before home games. It's become something of a ritual this season in fact. Even though I'd heard alleged stories about them cooking flies in their chicken, I simply can't resist their spicy secret recipe, and if it does allegedly trump the Colonel's 11 herbs and spices with the addition of insects, it's a winning recipe. As I said, allegedly.
So, imagine my disdain last night when having ordered a Spicy chicken burger, waited 15mins as others got served before me, the cheeky chappy tried to pass off a NON-spicy chicken burger to me. He obviously didn't realise I was a seasoned Branos man, and fully aware that their chicken pieces have a slight orange tinge to them if they've been coated in their spicy glaze. The one he'd presented to me was not orange...
J'ACCUSE, BRANOS MAN!!!
What really incensed me was his dismissive tone, saying that they didn't have any spicy pieces so I would have to have a non-spicy burger.
OH WOULD I INDEED, MR BRANOS MAN?! Maybe I could just demand my money back and take my spicy chicken lust elsewhere!!! That would teach you, wouldn't it, you spicy-burger tease, you!
As it was, I was pretty hungry after a 2 hour drive from work, so I begrudgingly took the non-spicy burger, with or without the alleged flies. But not before I'd made him feel slightly awkward. A small victory, I thought.
It was only after I left the shop that I realised that the Turkish-run Branos had clearly deliberately refused me my spicy chicken in a bid to upset me before Oxford played their fellow countrymen that evening. Dastardly behaviour indeed, but I had to admire their cunning attempt to put me off cheering on Oxford that evening due to mild food-based disgruntlement.
As it was, my disgruntlement was further heightened on watching the teams come out onto the field - Turkey, not in their traditional red kit, but in YELLOW. What the flying fuck? It was bad enough having to for some reason play a nation state as part of the League 2 campaign (and a rapidly improving football nation at that), but they also get to play in our home colours?
I'd already aired my reservations about the new mostly blue kit earlier in the season - but this now highlighted exactly why it wasn't quite sitting right with me. A team could come to our home and get away with an all-yellow kit, so un-yellow was our own current strip. Very disappointing and I'm blaming that as much as the lack of a pre-match spicy burger for the inept performance last night. Oh, and the players as well. I'm blaming them too.
This was my first match in exactly a month - since the victory over table-toppers Port Vale. How things have changed in that time, and I don't just mean the performance on the pitch, I mean more specifically the attitude of the fans.
True, I wasn't at Bradford last weekend so didn't have to endure the 2nd half collapse, so perhaps the anger was partly justified by those who'd travelled up to Yorkshire to see that. But something that someone who has been away for a few games (such as I) can truly notice more than those there every week is how different the atmosphere was at the KasStad from a month ago.
The optimism - gone.
The confidence - gone.
How quickly things can change. How fickle is both the form of players and the attitude of the fans.
I'm not going to pretend that the outcome last night, against 10 men, was anything less than woeful - but I'm still astounded that people are so quick to get on the players' backs and boo the team. Do people actually think the players will take inspiration from that, or just lose more confidence and play even worse?
Anyone that seriously concludes the former is delusional.
Certainly, we can take little away from last night's performance except that a couple of players may need to take a look at themselves and perhaps have a little time on the bench for the next few games. Some questions again on the tactics, team selection and substitutions from 'Tinkerer' Wilder - we all remember when he got that label last year and the turgid couple of months that came out of it.
To top it all off, the chap in the seat in front of me won the 50/50 draw.
£1,050.
I'm not saying I deserved it more than him, but I did deserve it more than him.
Well, the game is over now. I returned to my car and drove back to London, listening to the rants of the callers on Radio Oxford in a slightly depressed state as you might expect.
It's tight in the league this season - before last night we were 4 points off the play-offs and 4 points of relegation. Things can change quickly, for better or worse. Let's just hope the optimism and the form of just a few weeks ago returns sooner rather than later.
A diversion into the FA Cup might be just what we need right about now.
Up The
Oh, and did you spot the deliberate mistake? The above flag was of course the flag of Tunisia. The flag of Turkey is here below. More Islamic flag-based tomfoolery next time, folks!
 |
| The Real Turkey Flag. Similar to Tunisia. |
Thursday, 21 October 2010
Getting Married in the Football Season
Ahoy there fellow Yellows!
Well, I'm now a married man, and soon the football will return to the more prominent areas of my thoughts as my exile for wedding planning, wedding itself and forthcoming honeymoon come to an end.
I next intend to be up watching those boys in (mostly blue &)Yellow on November 2nd, for Turkey at home. I aim to have a new blog entry up for that game.
For now though, I reproduce for your delectation my article from the Matchday Programme against Port Vale, a few weeks back.
ENJOY!
Getting Married in the Football Season
Article first appeared in Matchday Programme v. Port Vale, 2nd October 2010.
Although my attendance this season started well in August, I’ve actually been AWOL for the last two weekends. I am here today, but afraid that I’ll also be absent for the next few weekends after this, too.
Dreadful really, isn’t it? What could possibly have led to such a committed yellow such as I to miss so much of our return to the football league?
Well, I’m getting married next weekend. Yes – in the middle of the football season.
You may laugh at my misfortune. You may even snort in disgust at my disloyalty to commit so heinous a crime. Cleary, I can’t be a real fan, getting married in the football season, eh?
Well, this might be your first impression, but you’d be wrong – and have failed to understand my canny logic for long-term gains.
When I first met my future wife, she had no interest and no understanding of football whatsoever. Now however, she has no interest and no understanding of football whatsoever. But she does know how much it means to me.
She doesn’t claim to be able to relate to my obsession; is appalled that I want to wear an OUFC pin-badge on my wedding suit; and even wanted to wear a red dress to marry me in before I set her straight on what a faux pas that would be. But she knows OUFC is important to me.
So you see, by planning a wedding for a Saturday during the season, I will indeed miss that game, plus a few others with the planning and honeymooning and whatnot. BUT – and this is the clever part – I will prove totally and utterly to my beloved that she comes first before football. So she won’t be so begrudging at handing out the day passes in the future!
Wifey: “Can’t you just miss this one game; it’s my mother’s birthday?”
FMO: “Yes but it really is an important game darling – and I did miss all those games around our wedding, didn’t I?”
Wifey: “Oh, that’s true. OK, fair enough then – just join us in the evening”.
FMO: “OK, but I should also warn you that it may go to extra-time and penalties. So I may be drunk as I’ll be worried about those penalties, so would have had a few for my nerves.”
Wifey: “That’s fine dear, I understand completely. Come on You Yellows!”
Well, that’s how I think it will go anyway…
I still hear you cry though “What about your mates? Are you honestly expecting them to miss a game too just for your poncy wedding?”
Well, to ease the pain, I’ve done a little something for the day that I hope they will quite like, with the help of my second favourite CW, OUFC’s very own Chris Williams. It’s an Order of Service mocked up to look like a Matchday Programme (Sorry, ‘award-winning’ Matchday Programme). It’s got pen pictures of all the wedding party, ‘team sheets’, Bride, Groom & Best Man columns – the lot. I’ve even got a special message of congratulations from Timmy Mallett in there, which also keeps my ‘Wacaday’-loving Fiancée happy.
It’s sure to be a collectors item, and perhaps the one OUFC programme that Martin Brodetsky doesn’t have.
“But it’s a really important game!” came my meek response.
Damn, so I’ve used up that excuse already…
In all seriousness though, I should be here today as planned without much fuss as my Fiancée knows all the games I’ve already missed is sacrifice enough for me.
Plus she has that knowledge that I agreed to our wedding during the football season a full year ago, not knowing what the fixture list would throw up for Oxford on October 9th, 2010. I was willing to make that early call and miss a potentially important clash. As far as she is concerned, Oxford might have been playing Swindon and I’d have sacrificed the big derby for the big day.
Well, as long as she thinks that at least, that’s all that really matters…
Well, I'm now a married man, and soon the football will return to the more prominent areas of my thoughts as my exile for wedding planning, wedding itself and forthcoming honeymoon come to an end.
I next intend to be up watching those boys in (mostly blue &)Yellow on November 2nd, for Turkey at home. I aim to have a new blog entry up for that game.
For now though, I reproduce for your delectation my article from the Matchday Programme against Port Vale, a few weeks back.
ENJOY!
Article first appeared in Matchday Programme v. Port Vale, 2nd October 2010.
Although my attendance this season started well in August, I’ve actually been AWOL for the last two weekends. I am here today, but afraid that I’ll also be absent for the next few weekends after this, too.
Dreadful really, isn’t it? What could possibly have led to such a committed yellow such as I to miss so much of our return to the football league?
Well, I’m getting married next weekend. Yes – in the middle of the football season.
You may laugh at my misfortune. You may even snort in disgust at my disloyalty to commit so heinous a crime. Cleary, I can’t be a real fan, getting married in the football season, eh?
Well, this might be your first impression, but you’d be wrong – and have failed to understand my canny logic for long-term gains.
When I first met my future wife, she had no interest and no understanding of football whatsoever. Now however, she has no interest and no understanding of football whatsoever. But she does know how much it means to me.
She doesn’t claim to be able to relate to my obsession; is appalled that I want to wear an OUFC pin-badge on my wedding suit; and even wanted to wear a red dress to marry me in before I set her straight on what a faux pas that would be. But she knows OUFC is important to me.
So you see, by planning a wedding for a Saturday during the season, I will indeed miss that game, plus a few others with the planning and honeymooning and whatnot. BUT – and this is the clever part – I will prove totally and utterly to my beloved that she comes first before football. So she won’t be so begrudging at handing out the day passes in the future!
Wifey: “Can’t you just miss this one game; it’s my mother’s birthday?”
FMO: “Yes but it really is an important game darling – and I did miss all those games around our wedding, didn’t I?”
Wifey: “Oh, that’s true. OK, fair enough then – just join us in the evening”.
FMO: “OK, but I should also warn you that it may go to extra-time and penalties. So I may be drunk as I’ll be worried about those penalties, so would have had a few for my nerves.”
Wifey: “That’s fine dear, I understand completely. Come on You Yellows!”
Well, that’s how I think it will go anyway…
I still hear you cry though “What about your mates? Are you honestly expecting them to miss a game too just for your poncy wedding?”
Well, to ease the pain, I’ve done a little something for the day that I hope they will quite like, with the help of my second favourite CW, OUFC’s very own Chris Williams. It’s an Order of Service mocked up to look like a Matchday Programme (Sorry, ‘award-winning’ Matchday Programme). It’s got pen pictures of all the wedding party, ‘team sheets’, Bride, Groom & Best Man columns – the lot. I’ve even got a special message of congratulations from Timmy Mallett in there, which also keeps my ‘Wacaday’-loving Fiancée happy.
It’s sure to be a collectors item, and perhaps the one OUFC programme that Martin Brodetsky doesn’t have.
Truth is though, apart from the fun this little project became, it’s been a total nightmare getting the wedding organised during the season. Most things need doing at the weekend, when I want to be at the football. “We need to go to John Lewis to buy some table stands, can you come?”
“No, we’re at Hereford that day."
“We need to finalise the seating arrangements on Tues night. What time will you be home?”
“Errr… about midnight, as we are away at West Ham that night….”
Yes, I’ve been pretty rubbish with the planning, which is why I kept the last two weekends free to get up to speed.
So instead of enjoying Beano’s equaliser at Gresty Road last weekend, I was sat in a 4-hour traffic jam on the M4, trying to get to the soon-to-be-in-laws’ house to discuss the dowry. I started to panic, as we still then had to get back and print the ruddy order of services out, and write the seating plan out, and this and that and this and that….
“Don’t worry!” piped up my wife-to-be, “We still have next weekend.”“But… I’m going to the Port Vale game next weekend!” I protested.
“Well, you might have to not go if there is still stuff to do…”“But it’s a really important game!” came my meek response.
Damn, so I’ve used up that excuse already…
In all seriousness though, I should be here today as planned without much fuss as my Fiancée knows all the games I’ve already missed is sacrifice enough for me.
Plus she has that knowledge that I agreed to our wedding during the football season a full year ago, not knowing what the fixture list would throw up for Oxford on October 9th, 2010. I was willing to make that early call and miss a potentially important clash. As far as she is concerned, Oxford might have been playing Swindon and I’d have sacrificed the big derby for the big day.
Well, as long as she thinks that at least, that’s all that really matters…
Monday, 13 September 2010
We're Here for d'Goals!
nPower League Two
Saturday, 11th September 2010
Hereford United 0 OUFC 2
I was hobbling into work all week with a stupidly swollen foot and the thought of a 7-hour return train trip to Hereford didn't really appeal as I got out of bed at 7am on Saturday morning.
But I'm a stubborn old Ox. I could have driven, a little easier than fucking about on trains - but I'd already got my train tickets in advance, hadn't I? And I'm also a tightwad who wasn't going to throw spent money down the drain!
So, I hobbled onto the tube to Paddington & hobbled onto the 08.21 which sped me and my engorged, hobbly foot through the beautiful Saturday morning solitude of the Berkshire & Oxfordshire countryside. This golden quiet was stamped out of course in an hour, when the 08.21 from Paddington became the 09.21 from Oxford - in all but name a 'football special' with a good 60-odd Oxford climbing aboard, tinnies in hand.
I'd been looking forward to this bit - a few beers with my mates on the way up there, lovely! Yet I wasn't going to risk any alcohol on this trip. Those of you that have never had gout may not appreciate how easy a decision it was to avoid alcohol today.
On arrival in Hereford then, I let the others wander into Wetherspoons but went off to do something else myself. Something that did not involve continue watching others get progressively more leathered as I sipped on my mineral water and got further and further away from being able to engage in conversation with them.
So what is there to do with 2 hours to spare in Hereford? Well, you could always visit the Mappa Mundi within the City's Cathedral, of course! So I did.
I'm sure you are not interested, but the Hereford Mappa Mundi is the largest medieval map known to still exist. Mind you, it was pretty fucking inaccurate - they didn't even have America on it, and you should have seen some of the funny creatures they reckon exist in Africa! I know it's a bit backward up there in the sticks, but you'd have thought they'd have commissioned Phillips to do them up a new projection by now.
After a delightful cuppa in the Cathedral's Cloisters Cafe, I hobbled along to the game and for my first visit to the dilapidated Edgar Street. Terrible ground to be honest, but I'd still rather be stood on the bottom tier of the rickety side terrace, fearing that those above are about to come crashing through the cracked concrete roof, than be at a soulless plastic bowl.
Mind you, the view was fucking shit.
If you stood too far back, you could see very little of the pitch due to the huge pillars supporting the upper tier. Yet standing in front of them, my view of the far goal was obscured by the top of the overflow gate leading onto the pitch. So for the first half, when Oxford were on the attack myself and those around me looked like a mob of Meerkats bobbing up and down and side-to-side with the flow of the game.
Apart from a few early scares, we hardly looked troubled on the pitch - Hereford didn't appear to have very much about them and I'd be surprised if they didn't end up in the bottom 5 or so this season at best.
Difficult then to really know how to judge our performance, as we will play better sides, but all we could do was win on the day and we did that with talent to spare. If Constable had been a bit more selfish in the last 20 mins, he'd have had his 2nd League hat-trick and we'd have stuck 4 or 5 past them.
Craddock's goal that wrapped it up was a finish that would not have looked out of place in a Premiership game - as long as he pulls his weight his signing could end up being one hell of a coup for Wilder.
So, all Oxford fans left the ground very happy and despite my gouty foot and the five bastard hours it took me to get home on the most ridiculously ponderous train I'd ever been on, it was a good day out.
I'm getting married in 4 weeks' time. Which means I won't be at the next few games as have wedding planning stuff to attend to (which should have been done earlier in the summer when there was no football, i grant you!).
As such there may something of an intermission on this blog until I'm back as a married man to watch the bleak winter months & the assault on the title.
So see you then!
Up The U's!
Saturday, 11th September 2010
Hereford United 0 OUFC 2
Having missed the Morecambe game due to my stag weekend inconveniently cutting across the football season, I very nearly also missed the trip to Hereford on Saturday due to a stag-related bout of gout disabling me in the intervening week.
But I'm a stubborn old Ox. I could have driven, a little easier than fucking about on trains - but I'd already got my train tickets in advance, hadn't I? And I'm also a tightwad who wasn't going to throw spent money down the drain!
So, I hobbled onto the tube to Paddington & hobbled onto the 08.21 which sped me and my engorged, hobbly foot through the beautiful Saturday morning solitude of the Berkshire & Oxfordshire countryside. This golden quiet was stamped out of course in an hour, when the 08.21 from Paddington became the 09.21 from Oxford - in all but name a 'football special' with a good 60-odd Oxford climbing aboard, tinnies in hand.
I'd been looking forward to this bit - a few beers with my mates on the way up there, lovely! Yet I wasn't going to risk any alcohol on this trip. Those of you that have never had gout may not appreciate how easy a decision it was to avoid alcohol today.
On arrival in Hereford then, I let the others wander into Wetherspoons but went off to do something else myself. Something that did not involve continue watching others get progressively more leathered as I sipped on my mineral water and got further and further away from being able to engage in conversation with them.
So what is there to do with 2 hours to spare in Hereford? Well, you could always visit the Mappa Mundi within the City's Cathedral, of course! So I did.
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| Hereford Mappa Mundi: Inaccurate & speculative. |
I'm sure you are not interested, but the Hereford Mappa Mundi is the largest medieval map known to still exist. Mind you, it was pretty fucking inaccurate - they didn't even have America on it, and you should have seen some of the funny creatures they reckon exist in Africa! I know it's a bit backward up there in the sticks, but you'd have thought they'd have commissioned Phillips to do them up a new projection by now.
 |
| Hereford Cathedral: Religious. |
Mind you, the view was fucking shit.
If you stood too far back, you could see very little of the pitch due to the huge pillars supporting the upper tier. Yet standing in front of them, my view of the far goal was obscured by the top of the overflow gate leading onto the pitch. So for the first half, when Oxford were on the attack myself and those around me looked like a mob of Meerkats bobbing up and down and side-to-side with the flow of the game.
 |
| Edgar Street: A bit shit. |
Difficult then to really know how to judge our performance, as we will play better sides, but all we could do was win on the day and we did that with talent to spare. If Constable had been a bit more selfish in the last 20 mins, he'd have had his 2nd League hat-trick and we'd have stuck 4 or 5 past them.
Craddock's goal that wrapped it up was a finish that would not have looked out of place in a Premiership game - as long as he pulls his weight his signing could end up being one hell of a coup for Wilder.
So, all Oxford fans left the ground very happy and despite my gouty foot and the five bastard hours it took me to get home on the most ridiculously ponderous train I'd ever been on, it was a good day out.
 |
| Percy & Thomas in no rush to leave Hereford. |
As such there may something of an intermission on this blog until I'm back as a married man to watch the bleak winter months & the assault on the title.
So see you then!
Up The U's!
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
Who Calls The Shots?
Tuesday, 31st August 2010
Johnstone's Pain Trophy, 1st Round
Aldershot Town 2 OUFC 0
Well first of all, I don't like the sky-blue kit either. Last night was the first time I'd seen it and I rather wish I hadn't. Bleurgh. Why anyway, were we wearing sky-blue when we clearly could have worn our (mostly blue &)Yellow home kit?
Anyway.
I had decided I might go to this game some time ago, but a call from my soon-to-be best man the day before to say he'd probably take in this game on his way home made it a trip I thought worthwhile.
Coming from London, It was a 45min train ride out to the Army Town of Aldershot for me. Bit of a craphole, is Aldershot. I don't think that even the residents of this grotty little town would deny that to be a fair shout.
Upon arrival at Aldershot station, you are greeted by a wonderful reminder of the town's Armed Forces heritage - a Tank mounted on a roundabout. As you proceed towards The Recreation Ground, at times you wish you could have commandeered it for the journey.
I met my friend in the pub at the top of the hill near the entrance to the away turnstiles - La Fontaine. Not as the name would suggest an upmarket French wine bar, but a shabby estate pub. I think you'll get the gist of what sort of place it was by telling you that every adult male in the pub seemed to have a Pit Bull.
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| La Fontaine Pub in Sunny Aldershot |
Getting into Aldershot's away terrace is one of the more convoluted ways of entering a football ground. If approaching the main entrance of the ground expecting to get in there, you need to factor in another 15mins to get to the away terrace. You have to cross under a railway bridge, walk half a mile up a hill, crossing back over the top of the rail tracks and back down the hill through a park. It's silly.
I quite like the ground though - it's a ramshackle shitbox of a place, with nothing at one end of the goal (imagine!) and a corrugated-iron roof cow-shed at the other end, along with lots of moss-covered crumbling terraces in between. The cobbled-together feel of the place reminds very much of The Manor, had The Manor survived a nuclear fallout and the destruction of mankind centuries previous.
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| View of the Cow-Shed from the Away Side-Terrace. |
To be honest it was one of those evenings where I spent most of the game chatting away and not really paying attention - saying either something about the quality of the football or my attention span. Or both.
 |
| JPT: Tinpot. |
So, we are out of the Johnstone's Paint Trophy at the first hurdle without so much as a whimper. Pfft, who cares right?
Well, it may be a relatively pointless trophy, but with an ever-growing squad the chance for the fringe players to get some 1st team action is always a bonus, so it would have been nice to carry on in this Trophy.
Plus, I bet Aldershot draw Scumdon in the next round.
What concerns me though was that again we looked outclassed in most areas of the pitch by another League Two side.
No need to panic just yet, though...
Whilst waiting on the platform for my train back to London last night, I was approached by a fellow Yellow who shook my hand and told me he really enjoyed my blog. What a nice man. It's nice to be appreciated, and I do try my very best after all.
Next up, Morecambe, who finished 4th last time out and are clearly also a decent side. I'll be missing this one and the debut of young Mr Craddock though, as I shall be off on my stag to deepest darkest Snowdonia. So there will be no report up here of our historic first win back in the Football League next week!
I may be tempted though to take in Porthmadog v. Rhyl on Saturday and bore you with that next week instead...
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