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.

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…

We're Here for d'Goals!

nPower League Two
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.

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.

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.

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.

Edgar Street: A bit shit.

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.

Percy & Thomas in no rush to leave Hereford.

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!

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.

La Fontaine Pub in Sunny Aldershot

Not that I'm some la-di-da London ponce who doesn't like these sort of places - on the contrary I had a lovely couple of pints in there chatting to the locals and petting their specially-bred fighting dogs in the glorious August evening sunshine.

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.

View of the Cow-Shed from the Away Side-Terrace.

On the pitch, Aldershot deserved the win. Very few wearing sky-blue on the night can come out of the evening with very much credit - except perhaps Potter who did seem to run his socks off and get barged about mercilessly by the rowdy rough-and-tumble Aldershot boys.

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...

Dr Livingstone, I Presume?

Saturday, 28th August 2010.
nPower League Two
OUFC 0 Accrington Stanley 0

Ian Rush said, if I didn't win the Milk Cup, I'd only be good enough to play Accrington Stanley. Or something like that, anyway.

So, you wait five decades to play a side, passing them in and out of the league both ways in the process in a bizarre, coincidental fashion. Then when you do meet, you nearly die of boredom.

So was the remarkable saga of Oxford & Accrington, the ghosts of 1962 for them and 2006 for Oxford, put to rest on Saturday by this first ever meeting between the two sides.

Far from the world collapsing in on itself, we instead were treated to a snooze draw of biblical-proportions of shiteness. Oxford, in fairness will probably consider themselves the luckier of the two teams to have come away with a point - Accrington looked a decent side who passed the ball around very well at times, something we couldn't match over the 90 mins.

The scary thing about Accrington looking half-decent was that this is substantially the same team that finished a mediocre 15th last year in League Two.

Having first been impressed by Bury's footballing side and then assured ourselves a draw at Wycombe was a good one against title contenders, there comes a time when we might have to admit that this League may be a bigger step up than we might like to have thought it was...

In the Conference, you can comfortably look to 10-15 games a season that Oxford would expect to win without breaking too much of a sweat. Teams that are basically shit - cloggers with no ability, no tactics and no brains. I don't think you can say the same in League Two. The sides all seem to be passing it around nicely, and at a pace that we are not used to.

This should not be as much of a worry as it seems though, considering we have for the most matched all we've played. For me, Saturday was the exception as I thought Accrington looked better than us. OK, they weren't exactly on fire and our back line did their job (Wright especially, who was a rock).

Yet I was astounded to hear a couple of callers on Radio Oxford after the game say Accrington came to 'park the bus' and 'stop us from playing'. They were watching a different game to me then, as I thought Accrington over-ran us in midfield, were first to every 2nd ball and gave Oxford no time on the ball to settle. They also swept the ball across the park quite beautifully at times, making Oxford look quite ordinary.

We are allowed a shit performance now and then, and hey - we didn't lose.

The longer we go without that first league win though the more nervy our performances may become, so we have to get back to playing decent stuff on the grass and learn to cope with the change of gear.

Most important of all, the players need to put in a shift and adjust to the fact that week-in, week-out, we'll be playing FOOTBALLING teams this season - not a bunch of part-time, hoof-ball bandits. And frankly, I thank the lord for that.

Upton No Good

Tuesday, 24th August 2010
Carling Cup, 2nd Round
West Ham Utd 1 OUFC 0

I know that for many of the 3,800 or so that were there last night, a game against a Premiership side will probably be the highlight of their season. Not for me - I was truthfully more excited about Accrington on Saturday.

I've always treated these away cup ties at 'big clubs' as something of a light relief from the season proper rather than something to get terribly worked up about. A game like this is the equivalent of the porter scene in Macbeth; a slapstick bit of frivolity to lighten up the otherwise important and serious business of the campaign.

As such, I'm not particularly gutted about Scott Parker's undeserved 93rd minute winner last night. Probably more gutted than I would be had we not played so well and deserved at least another 30 mins at them, but that's football.

For me this was as close as I'm likely to get to a home game. Living in Central London, my train home from work in deepest, darkest Kent allowing me to stop off en-route at the new Stratford International station amidst the Olympic building site. A short bus-hop from there and I alighted at the wonderful Green Street - not as i expected it to be, full of American-accented faux-hooligans but actually a particularly vibrant corner of Pakistani culture in London.

Although I had been hoping to sample some of the wares of Duncan's Pie, Eels & Mash shop, this had closed by the time I got there so instead it was to Himalaya's canteen-style Restaurant & Takeaway for a plate of curry. Yum. They will win no prizes for appearance at this place, but who cares when the food tastes this good or authentic.

So, as I gazed from my window seat inside at the cooks selling samosas and pakoras to the local populace outside, I reflected that this was not the start to a typical football away day.

A man in a very old West Ham shirt came in and greeted the Restaurant owner, who asked him "who are they playing today?"

The 'appy 'ammer replied "It's a cup game against Oxford, who are a very lowly side - as low as you can get! So we should win tonight."

I was too busy wolfing down my curry to bother interjecting that you can certainly get lower than League Two - something I could articulate at length about if he had wished me to recount our last four years. I was also pleased at his arrogance and only hoped the 1st XI Avram Grant picked were equally dismissive of Oxford. It could be their comeuppance.

Wiping down my spice-soaked face, I decanted myself from this wonderful little place and walked amongst the locals and their sari shops & spice markets for a few hundred feet before the crowd turned into a football one as I passed Upton Park tube with a sea of yellow emerging from within.

One thing I always love about 'big games' is the feeling of being part of something as you walk down the cordoned-off roads in the vicinity of the ground with the throngs all heading in the same direction. Streets lined with burger vans, programme vendors and scarf & badge fly-pitchers. Haven't we missed the opportunity to experience that since we dropped out of the league?

I've been to The Boleyn Ground before, but I'm always amazed at how gaudy those Legoland castle turrets look in front of their main stand. Why not go the whole hog and get some mock-Tudor beams and stone cladding alongside it? Jesus.

So, the match itself then,* and how can you fault either the team or the fans on the night? Official away crowd not yet in, but the steward near us said we had close to 4,000 on the night and would be by far the biggest away following there this season (mainly due to them only giving 2,900 away in the League of course!).

Tremendous support Oxford.

We battled our hearts out on the pitch too of course. Beano looked knackered in that 2nd half, having run around like an enraged bluebottle on his own upfront all night. I was surprised, rose-tinted glasses accepted, to see that West Ham apparently had 65% of possession on the night - I thought we held the ball quite well and seemed to have a good stretch in charge in the 2nd half. It's always nice to hear some olés when you are playing against a Premiership side!

There was much consternation around me that those heading back to The Shire would likely miss their last train as it was heading into extra time. No such worries for me, but on 89 mins I did draft a text to MrsOx to say I'd be home later than expected. What a foolish thing to do, it was bound to enrage the Football God's wrath and teach me a lesson that nothing is ever predictable in football, as Parker (the only player for West Ham that perhaps emerged with any credit on the night) slotted home with 10 seconds to go.

Having experienced the nightmare collapse at Kenilworth Road in February though, this didn't particularly sting for very long.

Still early in the season, but we've already proved we can play football, proved we can mix it with teams at higher levels and proved we can score goals for fun when we are in gear.

Now it's time to pick up some points.

Saturday is a big one. I can't wait.


*You will notice that my 'match reports' are becoming less about the game but more the matchday experience around the football itself. I'd suggest you read Chris Williams reports first so you actually know what's happened in the game. This blog should expand your horizons a bit beyond that though. Maybe.

Wycombe In Peace

nPower League Two
Saturday, 21st August 2010
Wycombe Wanderers 0 OUFC 0
Att 6,983

What an odd little place High Wycombe is. Going on name and location alone, you expect it to be a sort of St Albans kind of place. A bit of a well-to-do, pretty looking commuter belt town. The sort of place Phil Collins or Paul Daniels would live. Where you would most likely spend the odd afternoon enjoying a glass of Sauvignon by a riverside gastro-pub, eating over-priced sausages and devilled kidneys.

Instead, what High Wycombe actually is would best be described as St Albans having being raped viciously by Stevenage. The vestiges of the old market town in the centre is merely the presence of an old town hall in the immediate vicinity of a giant, grey steel structured Sainsbury's car park and numerous confusing and many exited roundabouts encroaching needlessly on what little is left of a pedestrianised centre.

Even the railway station seems ashamed to be associated with the town, and appears to be edging out of the town by running up a hill away from the centre. Having spent an afternoon in the town, I can hardly blame it.

I arrived with a couple of London-based chums early for this one, as it was meant to be an informal stag do of sorts. Probably a large mistake, in hindsight. After a brief pint in town in a lovely beer garden doubling up as a car park, with scenic views of the aforementioned Sainsbury's car park, we decided to admit defeat in pretending we were above our base instincts and go and look at some bare-naked ladies in The White Horse.

Thankfully for the fate of our misguided souls, it was rammed full of naturist-lovers so we instead ended up having a few quieter ones in the pub right next door. I can't remember what it was called, but an apt name might have been 'The Overflow Arms' perhaps.

I've always thought it was an odd little ground, Adams Park. Positioned at the dead-end of a long residential road that turns into a mini-industrial estate, the ground itself looks like a leisure centre from the outside and is framed on three sides by tree-lined hillsides.

Yet inside, it's more like a morgue. Wycombe must have some of the quietest fans in the Football League and considering this game, for them at least is meant to have a 'derby' feel to it, some of the most apathetic fans too.

I know us Oxford fans often decry the fact that we are rivals, but this is still a very local game - it is a derby. It can be a derby without necessarily being a rivalry. As such, and with the promise of 2,300 away supporters turning up, it's a pretty poor effort on Wycombe's part to not even get close to filling their ground.

On the pitch, very much a game of two-halves - They overran us in the middle of the park in the 1st half and I was wondering if we'd be able to hang on for another 45mins without being ripped apart. 2nd half though, we were all over them and can probably be thinking ourselves the more unlucky not to have won the game with the chances we had. Finishing again, coming back to haunt us.

Wycombe will surely be up there at the end of the season though, and a point at their place in the context is a good point. that first League win must come soon though for psychological reasons if nothing else.

Looks all set then for Accrington next week - given the historical baggage between the two teams, it would be quite apt.

Bury-ed Alive

nPower League 2
Saturday, 14th August 2010
OUFC 1 Bury 2
Att. 7,552

What a disappointment in the end that was then. I thought that after the romance of Wembley that all these 'special occassions' were meant to go our way.

Our return to the League Cup certainly did, so why couldn't our first home game back in the football league? All that excitement and adrenaline since Tuesday evening, all building up to 3pm on Saturday and yet ending 2 hours later with a damp squib of anti-climax.

The day for me started with a trip to the Fulham Road to pick up a suit, driving past Stamford Bridge at around 10am where preparations were already underway for their first game of the season that afternoon. The burger vans were out in force and the whiff of plastic gave away the presence of Chelsea fans in the vicinity, already stalking out another season of success watching 11 nasty, overpaid arseholes sneer their way arrogantly to the title.

None of that bollocks for me - After picking up my tweed I was straight on the A40 and off to the shire to watch the boys in (mostly blue &)Yellow return to the Football League.

The obligatory Branos spicy chicken burger again preceded my march from Blackbird Leys down to Grenoble Road and full of hope and excitement, I went to the club shop with the intention of spending money on crap I didn't need.

Sadly, the queues were too long so I resisted the urge to pick up one of those new mostly blue novelty home shirts this time. So pleasing though to see those queues - there is hardly more exciting stuff in stock than there has been for the past near-decade down there, but having time and again in recent seasons been the only person in there, it's great to see fans flocking back and as excited as me.

So, then into the ground and a warm handshake and smile for all of my fellow ST-holders nearby. I only saw them on Tuesday night, but it still felt like the 'real' start to the season. Ooh I was excited.

They'd even giganticised the programme! I could now see every freckle and every follicle on Chris Wilder's badly-shaved face. something I never thought I would get the chance to do, so that was good.

My excitement even extended to purchasing a 'match badge' from a geezer who is doing a badge for every home game this season. The mad sod. Still, my collecting-OCD kicked in and it looks like I may have to get them all now. Damn you, badge man.

The result, obviously, was a bit of a let down after all the expectation and excitement. Yet the performance was not. We played well, we created chances - it just wasn't going to be our day. Bury were also an organised side who took advantage perhaps of our naivety at the back - not sure we'd have been opened up so quickly and easily as that in the Conference.

But we'll learn. I'm still confident - Bury are a decent side at this level and if we tighten up at the back we'll win games at this level with our potency & options upfront.

So, next up? Wycombe. See you in the White Horse...