I Can't Think of a Pun on 'Cheltenham'

Saturday, 29th January 2011.
nPower League Two
OUFC 1 Cheltenham Town 1

Well, that was alright, wasn't it?

No victory to crow about this morning and honours even over the two legs of the first 'Cotswolds Derby' season in 5 years. But another great team performance and things are looking tasty for the remainder of the season.

Another late start for myself for this one, only leaving London at noon for the drive up the M40. I've started to enjoy that drive of late, which I'm sure is in no small part thanks to our recent form on the pitch. It's a great feeling getting into the car and driving out of central London on a Saturday, towards the open green spaces of the shires. I always do a little "yaaay!" to myself whenever I go through Stokenchurch Gap and Oxfordshire opens up in front of me - such a wonderful presentation of our beloved county to the eyes. I also now know the position of every speed camera, every bend in the road and every traffic bottleneck between Tottenham Court Road and Blackbird Leys. Which is handy.

Stokenchurch Gap: Majestic Gateway

For those of you logging my spicy chicken burger pursuits (and I know some of you are), yes I can re-assure you that Branos did receive my custom before the game, and they seem to be back on their game after our little falling out early this season. Perhaps they have read this blog and cleaned up their customer service act a little as a result. A fine delectable pre-match spicy treat, delivered with a smile. Well done.

I like to get into the ground a little earlier these days, especially as I'm usually driving so can't cram pints in until 2.50pm in the Blackbird, so I was in my seat a good 30 minutes before kick off. I was thus witness to the sight of two dozen scantily-clad teenage girls prancing around in the centre circle as we were treated to a routine from Oxford Brookes' cheerleading squad.

Now, I'm not one to balk at the idea of a little pre-match entertainment, especially of the jiggling young bodies kind, but there is something about this Americanisation of pre-match entertainment that just doesn't work on a cold, grey day in England. I've been to many sporting venues in the States and Cheerleading is very much a welcome part of the furniture there - but it just seems slightly ridiculous at a League Two game of football, as echoes of 'get your tits out for the lads' ring around the ground, nearly drowning out the Britney Spears soundtrack.


Cheerleaders: It didn't look like this.


It's also a sign of my age that rather than join in the chant, I was tutting at the length of their skirts and thinking "They'll catch an awful chill in this weather."

Anyway, the game itself was a frustrating affair given our dominance for much of the 90mins, but I left the ground in rather high spirits, all things considered. It's easy to think of it as two points dropped rather than 1 gained, but you can't win every game and frankly if we continue to play such beautiful attacking football as that we will not drop too many more points this season.

My only concern is the leakiness at the back. Defending at set pieces and general sloppiness at times has meant we are conceding far too easily despite dominating matches. Someone said to me before the game on Saturday that they don't care how many goals we leak if we go and score at the other end - that they'd rather we played like Keegan's Newcastle and win every game 4-3.

Trouble is, Keegan's Newcastle didn't actually win anything. And although we are scoring goals, we are not putting away enough chances to score 3 or 4 in a game, so these defensive frailties are a slight concern. If we are serious about going up this year, we'll still need to grind out a few 1-0 victories along the way, and learn how to keep clean sheets.

Still, I don't want to sound all pessimistic as the performances of late have actually been top class on the whole and we should be very proud of the squad Wilder has now put together - it's working. His tinkering has seemed worth it, after all.

It IS working. And that is a very good thing indeed.

Cheltenham Nearly Man

Tomorrow afternoon we take on Cheltenham Town in "The Cotswolds Derby" (as this fixture has been christened by the media in the past, despite not really being a derby and Oxford not being in the Cotswolds).

This is a fixture that although reasonably local, may not feel that much of a derby for most amongst the two sets of fans. For me though, it’s one that always pricks my interest – for I have a now long-distant association with the town of Cheltenham.

It could have been oh so different for me, tomorrow. But for a twist of fate I might have been amongst the away fans, you see. A very tenuous twist of fate perhaps, but nonetheless I’ll expand and waffle for a few paragraphs, as you have come to expect…


Whaddon Road with my Cotswold homelands behind.



Had I become a Cheltenham fan, I wouldn’t have seen the agony of relegation after relegation, as my side tumbled and stumbled from the top flight to non-league in the space of 18 years. Instead I would have seen my side promoted from Southern League obscurity in 1997, before finding a way into the Football League only five years later.

Instead of watching Oxford in our non-league low ebb, I’d have been excited by a Cheltenham team playing at their highest (to date) pinnacle – even reaching the dizzy heights of League One.

I wouldn’t have been amongst 33,000 ecstatic Yellows at Wembley last May, but I’d have been at the Millennium Stadium in May 2006, watching Cheltenham reach that vertigous League One height just a few weeks after a team in yellow down the road that I didn’t really give a monkey’s about had dropped out of the football league.

The reason this might have happened is that I grew up in the Cotswolds town of Moreton-in-Marsh, a mere 22 miles from Whaddon Road. In those early-teen years before I discovered the joys of the London Road, the young FMO was a regular visitor to Cheltenham, the nearest decent-sized town to my home.



Badlands Cheltenham:  Music on Sale Here.


In the summer I would regularly catch the Pulham’s bus to Cheltenham and go shopping in Badlands Record shop for the latest grunge & death metal releases, before hanging out in the park opposite Whaddon Road, chatting about Kurt Cobain with similarly disaffected youths. It seemed such an adventure for a 14 year old boy to be off gallivanting in another town and I have very fond memories of lazy Saturday afternoons spent wandering around Cheltenham’s town centre.


Regent Arcade: Cheltenham: Exciting


I even went on my first ever proper date in Cheltenham, where I treated Becky Cother to a coke float in PizzaLand, before a Graham Gooch book-signing event in the Regent shopping arcade caught my eye. I later wondered if this particular Cheltenham adventure had some part in why that particular relationship didn’t work out.

Back then, despite liking football, the thought of spending an afternoon watching non-league dross was far from being on my ‘to do’ list. I’d never even noticed that the club existed to be honest – so ignorant were my young, innocent eyes to anything other than the Football League and the fledgling Premiership.

So despite my very fond attachment to the town of Cheltenham, it was east and to the city of Oxford that I eventually drifted – for some League football, no less. I was taken to The Manor Ground by a friend’s father one eventful afternoon in Jan 1994 and I haven’t looked back since - I was hooked.

Rarely did I ever even venture to Cheltenham again in fact, until our paths crossed on the football pitch many years later of course. For every Saturday from then was pretty much spent heading up the Manor Ground to watch Oxford with a couple of school friends.

How different things might have been had I had a friend who’s Dad watched Cheltenham, rather than Oxford, perhaps? Or if I’d been just a few years younger, and had caught the buzz around the town during Cheltenham’s rise to the Football League? If it’d been 2006 rather than 1996 when I was gallivanting around Cheltenham, Oxford would have been the non-league club and Cheltenham the nearest ‘decent’ team.

I would almost certainly have gone along to Whaddon Road were that the case. Perhaps it wouldn’t have instilled the same excitement in me that the London Road did all those years ago, but things would certainly have been different and I doubt I’d have ever found my way to Oxford subsequently.

These might be rather tenuous (and, well, frankly a little farcical) ‘what ifs’ – but nonetheless the scenario did make me think how different my life might have been had I taken the A429 rather than the good old A44.

My whole centre of gravity would have shifted westwards – I never would have lived in Oxford, nor gone to university here, and probably today I’d be living in Bristol rather than London. I’d never have met my wife, as I’d have no reason to be in her home-town of Reading, where I lived for a time in order to easily get back to Oxford for games. I’d probably have pickled my liver on scrumpy cider, too.

I’m sure there are some lovely people that I’d have got to know supporting Cheltenham, but I’d never have come to know all the brilliant people I know through supporting Oxford over all these years, either.

Worst of all though, I’d have been happily chanting ‘Come on you Robins’ tomorrow afternoon whilst wearing a red scarf around my neck. The whole thing makes me shudder.
Thank heavens for fate, and Up those Yellows!

Djoumin to do that?



Djoumin Sangare: Instant Legend.

 Our new signing Djoumin 'Jimmy' Sangare looks like he has the potential to become one of those players that will go down in U's folklore for being a bit of a character.

He signing has generated a lot of excitement and speculation, something that adds further to his folk hero potential. He was a living legend at York City and even has his own Djoumin Sangare Appreciation Society page on Facebook.

There is also a video compilation of his finest moments on you tube here. It's quite an impressive selection, although it might be noted that the poster of the video, a certain 'MrDjoumin', might have had a motive behind making sure the video showed him in the most favourable of lights. That there might also be another potential video out there showing him getting constantly nutmegged, falling over and scoring spectacular own goals should also be a consideration before we fall in love with the man!

I'm already enjoying his yellow player interviews this week though. He's a Muslim, so he told us in his first interview. It may seem an irrelevant comment, but I like to know the religious persuasions of the players.

That Jimmy feels the need to tell us of his dedication to Islam as a way of introduction tells me he is a committed individual that will always give his all to the cause, you see. Very good too.

Is Tonkin a Methodist? Perhaps Sammy Deering is a Mormon? How has Beano learnt to kept his cool so well of late? Meditative Buddhism? Who knows? I wish I did.

You can tell a lot about a player from his religious persuasion. Certainly, we have had quite a few 7th Day Adventists play for us over the years, considering their unwillingness to do anything on a Saturday.

Anyway, back to Jimmy. I was also happy to hear he already knew quite a few of the other players - Purkiss of course whilst recently at York; Damien Batt when they were at St Albans together a few years back. But more importantly he played alongside Ryan Clarke at Salisbury - and it's important that a centre-back forms a good relationship with his keeper.

Thankfully, Clarke and Sangare need no introductions to each other, it seems.





Bantam Wait

Saturday, 15th January 2011

nPower League Two

OUFC 2 Bradford City 1

The last time Oxford played Bradford at home was in December 1998, when we were both in the 2nd tier of English Football. They beat us on that occasion, 1-0. They also ended up finishing 2nd and being promoted to the Premiership that season, whilst we went in the other direction in what would become the eventual decline out of the football league for our recent wilderness years.

Hard to believe then that the Bradford team going up to the Premiership would pretty soon after find themselves following a similar spiral to us so that we met again this weekend in the basement tier of the Football League. The difference being after the drop out of the League, most Oxford fans are surely pretty grateful to be here. For Bradford fans though I'm sure most are still coming to terms with their rapid decline that finds them where they are.

As one old pundit might have said whilst scratching his bulging balls at half-time during the Milk Cup final, "Funny old game, isn't it?"

I'd been looking forward to this game for a few days. It had a big game feel about it, being the two best supported sides in League Two, currently. I was excited. After promising myself never to have a Branos spicy burger again, I even thought "what the hey" and went and got one of the zingy treats for the walk down to the stadium. I got garlic mayonnaise all over my pigging coat in the process. Nadgers. Then I bit into a jalapeno and it's searing pickled heaty liquid splashed into my eye. Double Nadgers. It was going to be one of those days I thought.

And it so nearly was. How many of us thought it just wasn't our day as the 70minute mark passed and chance after chance was put wide, tipped over the bar or inexplicably blocked on the goal-line in a manner that seemed to defy the laws of physics?

True, it was a ridiculous goal to concede early on to a mediocre and unadventurous Bradford side. From then on in though, there was only one team in it. If there is a single Bradford player, fan or official that genuinely thinks they deserved even a point out of that game, they need to be sectioned immediately. They wouldn't be looking at the game through rose-tinted glasses - they would be 100ft lead-lined, sound-proofed screens they would be standing behind to come to that conclusion.

In the post match interview, Chris Wilder made mention of the "55 chances" we had on the day. The fact of the matter is, it really didn't feel as though it was that far off this figure. We were amazing. Every player out there was amazing. Six wins from Seven. 1 point off the play-offs. 6 from automatic spots.

We can do this, you know.

We really can.

I'm excited.

Return of The Macc

Tuesday, 28th December 2010
nPower League Two
OUFC 2 Macc Lads 1

Foggy, wasn't it?

I must admit, the way the pea-souper was descending just before half-time, I nearly had a gentlemen's bet with those around me in the East Stand that the match would not last 90 mins. Then I realised that I wasn't really an expert in localised meteorological predictions. Plus there were no gentlemen anywhere near me.

After no less than five full Earth-weeks since I last saw Oxford play, it was certainly a rousing performance to warm the cockles after those freezing few weeks, despite the ghostly presence of the fog.

I started the day in snowless, fogless Reading at the in-laws after an extended few days of engorging myself. After setting out on Boxing Day for the aborted trip to Stevenage, I returned whence I'd came for another day of eating Christmas leftovers.

After Roast Turkey, Cold Turkey, Turkey Salad, Turkey Sandwiches, Curried Turkey and Turkey Soup, I felt an urgent need to sample a manky grot-burger at the football instead.

Even the Turkey had had enough of eating turkey: Here he tries to make a quick getaway.

Sadly for those awaiting news of my latest run-in with Branos staff, I wasn't to make it there for a spicy chicken burger this time out - a new-found aversion to all things poultry put paid to that. So to the McDonalds on the Oxford Road at Benson it was for my first non-Turkey treat of the festive season. Nothing very interesting happened there, but it is an actual fact.

Arrived soon after in Oxford and popped into a very busy Blackbird for a swift pre-match pint; the place was heaving and the spirits were high. Which is a good thing too as any lower and the children might have reached the whisky.

The coming fog had been forewarned to us whilst we supped our mulled fosters - it was bumper to bumper on the M40 due to the reduced visibility and if it moved towards the City the game might be in peril. It seemed unlikely, given it was quite clear and rather mild outside.

The game started then with no serious concerns about fog. The First-half was played at a high-tempo and we knew it was going to be quite a physical affair early when one of the gigantic Macclesfield full-backs up-ended Constable maliciously down by the touchline.
We were clearly causing the bully-boys of Macc problems though and stamped our authority on the game with a very well-worked opener from the magnificent Heslop.

The spectre of abandonment soon became quite evident as the first half progressed though. Not normally one to panic or fear the worst, I was panicking and fearing the worst. My next-door neighbour eased my worries. "Look, you can clearly still see the Vue cinema behind the goal."

He was right. There was hardly going to be a problem of the game being called off if we could still see the Vue Cinema from the East Stand.

Five minutes later, you couldn't see the Vue cinema from the East Stand anymore.

Suddenly I wasn't the only one wondering if we might see our first abandoned game at the Kassam. People were asking each other how many minutes would need to be played for the result to stand? (I believe it is 79 minutes, but someone may be able to confirm or deny that).

The fog was rolling in fast and a half-time plea by Rosie for the East Stand to blow the fog away was taken seriously by some of the children, I noticed. The silly child-fools only seemed to be adding to the problem though, as their warm exhales of breath added to the foggy smoke of the early evening. Bloody idiots.

As the second half recommenced, the Macclesfield players took the field and their imposing back-line emerged from the fog renewed and desperate to stamp their ghastly menace back into the game. Despite this our persistence paid off and a lovely run from young Mr Potter was eventually finished off by Mr Constable and it seemed like the Macc brutes were sure to disappear back into the fog, whence they came.



Macclesfield emerging from the fog: Menacing.

Yet despite this, the hordes continued to terrorise and a dodgy late goal led to a nervy last 10 minutes (can we ever, EVER do it the easy way?!), but we dang well held on as the fog finally seemed to lift on the final whistle, as did our spirits as we march on up the table to the dizzy heights of 11th.

After the 2nd half horror-show at Moss Rose in October, do I think we deserved to hang on for a win after going 2-0 up in the Return of the Macc?

Yes I do. Yes I do, do, do.

In Pursuit of the Perfect Boxing Day



Jingle Balls.


Ahh, Christmas time! Mistletoe & wine! Children singing Christian rhymes…


Doesn’t it make you feel all warm inside, thinking about all those lovely Christmas things? Actually though, I don’t know about the children singing Christian rhymes - certainly hearing local youths rapping about Jesus isn’t something I’ve really seen this Christmas or any.

Perhaps Cliff meant Christian carols? But then that wouldn’t fit with the song, would it? Unless it went “Christmas carols, mistletoe and barrels” perhaps. But then that just sounds odd.

Anyway, I digress.

Once I’ve listened to a bit of Cliff, what Christmas really means for me is a long, exciting build up to the big day itself.

And no, I don’t mean Christmas Day – I mean the day after that, for the big Boxing Day Oxford game. When we all forget about stuffing our faces, trying not to swear in front of granny and pretending to be happy with the nice reindeer jumper she’s knitted for us.

Indeed Boxing Day for most people reading this programme is likely to be the day when we put on our bobble hats and scarves (and maybe even Granny’s jumper, if it’s very cold) and head out for a few hours to the most anticipated game of the year.

It’s always one of the first fixtures you look at when the list comes out in the summer. It’s the only one you really, really want to be a home game. There’s nothing quite like a Boxing Day home game, after all.

A quick poke of the head into your regular drinking hole before the game, merry Christmases all round and everyone there with all the family in tow. Old faces you haven’t seen all season, all then making their merry way to Grenoble Road, perhaps with a festive bag of chips, and a few larks throwing snowballs at your friends.

You take your seat; you’ve warmed up with a nice cup of Bovril and get ready to cheer on the Yellows in front of a packed, full-capacity stadium. After the game and a resounding victory for The U’s perhaps back to that drinking hole again for a few more winter warmers – after all, there are at least another two or three days left before having to think about going back to work! So ends the perfect Boxing Day and Christmas are complete.

Sadly, this perfect Dickensian rosy picture of how I love the day-after-Christmas to pan out hasn’t quite worked out for the last few seasons. In fact you have to go back to 2007 since we last had a home Boxing Day game.

Last year, the game was postponed of course due to the weather. I’d already driven up by the time I found out so it was a disappointed trip to the pub with other aggrieved faces before a last minute decision to take in Didcot v. Oxford City instead on the way back home. It was a good game in truth (4-4 if you are interested. You’re not you say? Oh), but hardly made up for the Boxing Day experience I was expecting.

A Sorry Sight.

The year before that, 2008 brought a miserable trip to a windy field on the outskirts of Salisbury to what is surely the most disappointing place to hold a Boxing Day game of football.

Too far from the City centre to use it as a base, the nearest pub a 45mins walk away down a busy road with no pavement, so either up to the ankles in boggy mud or running the risk of getting a festive smack by a car.

To top that off, away fans not allowed into the supporters’ bar on the day. In fact, I think I remember being told there wasn’t a supporters’ bar by the very helpful stewards. So having turned up at the giddy hour of 12pm expecting some great pre-match Boxing Day atmosphere in a nearby country pub, I instead sat in my car for two hours, before another two hours queuing for a mediocre burger amongst other hungry, cold and disappointed travelling Oxford. Then we lost the match and Sam Deering had his leg broken by a dastardly rogue. I also got lost on the way home and my sat-nav directed me into the middle of a field somewhere in the wilds of Wiltshire. This wasn’t a good Boxing Day. The only good thing about it was that it marked the first game in the hot seat for a certain Mr Wilder.

So this year, it was a bit disappointing to again know there was to be no home Boxing Day game. Stevenage away isn’t quite the festive treat it might otherwise have been.

Orange Balls, Please.

In fact, as I write this, the weather is still touch and go and may still scupper the game anyway, and after already seeing the pre-Festive game on the 18th against Shrewsbury postponed due to Jack Frost being a mischievous little tyke – in my mind, Christmas is almost ruined.

Almost though, but not entirely because of the game against Macclesfield on the 28th (which WILL go ahead. Yes, it will. Bright sunshine all over Oxford today, mark my words).

December 28th should thus be treated as the REAL Boxing Day by all Oxford fans - I urge you all to treat it as such and have a right rollicking good knees up in front of a decent crowd.

Just write off the two days inbetween – if you are anything like me you’ll have pretty much done so anyway, sleeping off that turkey for the past 48 hours and sticking my fingers in my ears and pretending I don’t have to go to work on the 29th.

I’m sure my boss will understand…

No Football

Ok, this is getting ridiculous now. It's now a whole calendar month since I attended an Oxford United game.

It just doesn't feel right. Assuming the game goes ahead on Boxing Day, that'll be 2 days short of 5 weeks since I last saw the (mostly Blue &)Yellow on display. Actually, we were wearing white the last time out anyway. Ho-hum.

It'll be the second time already this season I've gone a full calendar month without being to a game.

In my entire adult life (other than a year travelling (and yes, obviously also the summer, smart arse)), I have never gone more than 3 weeks without watching Oxford; until this season. Now I've gone and done it twice within 3 months. I don't like it.

The first time was due to a once-in-a-lifetime thing. A marriage. My own in fact. Hopefully a once-in-a-lifetime thing, anyway. All the pre-and post thingummies around that marriage, like planning it and going on a honeymoon, all took me away from football-watching duties.

Impossible as some of you may think, it was actually worth missing a few relatively unimportant games over.

But with all this weather nonsense hot on the heels and providing me yet another football-free month at such notice, I'm a little worried I may get out of the habit.

At the moment, oh yes I'm chomping at the bit to get to the Stevenage game. If it's off I'll be forced to spend Boxing Day watching TV, eating more food and socially engaging still-further with loved ones. Dear god. I'm not sure I can stay socially engaging myself for such prolonged periods - I need to get out, jump around and sing and swear at the football a bit. It's just not Christmas otherwise.

However, it's very easy to fall out of the habit. One thing I've noticed over the years is that whilst faces come and go, most that do go tend to go for good.

Those that do still go are the hardy common or garden perennials that rarely miss a game, certainly not at home. You do get the odd sighting of the Lesser-Spotted new parent, the Rare-Crested Exile or the Fair-Weathered Great Tit. Generally though, if someone flies south for winter for an extended period, you rarely see them back again.

I was actually guilty of nearly falling off the badly-metaphored bird-seed feeder of support after returning from my travels in 2004. Having spent 14 months traipsing across mountains, atolls, glaciers and backwaters, I had come to terms with an absence from the world of football. I had concluded that I had wasted too much time watching it and should do more with my spare time on my return to Britain, or more likely just bugger off around the world again.

This mindset lasted about 3 weeks. I thought I'd be social and go and say hello to the hardcores still going every week, before continuing my voyage of discovery in different fields. Perhaps I would pop in every couple of months like the Great Tit mentioned above, perhaps disappear forever into legend.

It only took a 0-0 bore-draw with Rushden & Diamonds to convince me to get a season ticket again. The magnet had been too strong, my inkling to leave this mad, crazy, obsessive compulsive world too ethereal to stop it's onslaught on my senses and sensibilities.

The Oxford United juggernaut steam-rollered me into submission once again. Even now, married and living in exile, I still attend around 80%* of games.

Only time will tell if this year's double-hiatus will send me back to the dark, football-free thoughts of Autumn 2004.

See you on Boxing Day!

*This statistic made-up on the spot, but rather convincingly, I'm sure you'll agree.