Take Me To Church, Ep 12: Big Ones
Five days after that stunning win against Welling, I’m still exhausted just from thinking about it. Not only the manner of the victory, against virtually all odds, but also the importance of it in this title race. I said it last time, and I’ll say it again: Grays and Margate are right up our tailpipe, and it’s getting uncomfortable. We need points in games like that — they make all the difference when the big boys come a-knockin’.
And a-knockin’ they come. We “welcome” Grays to The Stadium this afternoon, followed by a trip to the tip of Kent to see what kind of spread Margate have laid out in the director’s box, and then an FA Trophy tie away at Droylsden, third in the Conference North. It would be fun to have a stab at a cup this season, but there’s no doubt that I want promotion first and foremost. My Player Search list is disappointingly short on former internationals; there are only 16 by my count, most of whom have fluttered a dismissive handkerchief at my advances up to now, and all of whom are closer to the glue factory than the starting gate. Moving up a league is the only way I can get what I really want: a reunion with the man of my dreams, Rodrigo Astudillo.
I let out the kind of sigh that only distant lovers understand before returning to my tactical magnetic whiteboard to plot the downfall of Grays Athletic. They’re a team to be feared; they have three players with 10+ goals this season, while left winger John Martin also has 11 assists. They have one regular player unavailable for this game through suspension, Mauritius international central midfielder Gavin Heeroo, but otherwise they’re at full strength. We beat them 4–2 at their place earlier this season, so they’ll no doubt arrive at The Stadium with their gnashers on show, seeking revenge.
For our part, Pegger’s inspirational dismissal against Welling rules him out for this one, and with a couple of tiredness issues, I make some swaps. Cooke’s virtuoso performance from the bench nets him a start ahead of Booth, who’s still tired from his exertions, and Jaroslav Timko makes the bench. Sarge and Windy have recovered from their knocks and will retain their starting berths, while Birchall is restored up top with his big mate. He’s leaving soon, and as a loanee I’ve been hesitant to play him ahead of our more permanent charges, but hey — we need goals, and wee Adam has got plenty of them in his bumbag.
Birchall does brilliantly to expletive his way into a booking after just 95 seconds of this game, before Cooke goes on one of the runs that has established him firmly on the outskirts of my heart: he’s limited, he gets tackled twice along the way, but he rides them both and my god he keeps going all the way until he hits the side netting with what’s ultimately a disappointing effort. You just can’t fault the lad, though. Ambitious but rubbish.
Windross heads wide from a Sarge free-kick, Carl Emberson saves superbly from a Cabrera thunderbolt and then a Sarge header from a corner just over half an hour, and we’re all over Grays as we approach half-time. They’ve barely had the ball at all, in fact — they’ve been just about getting toes in here and there, but we’re fully dominant. Usually that means we concede from their first attack right on the 45, but this time, Cords makes a fantastic save as West collects a long ball and thwacks a shot goalwards, and we eventually make it to half time at zeroes.
Both my strikers are having stinkers. They were both on 5s until the whistle blew, when the game upgraded them to 6s — but honestly, I’ve barely seen either of them. Birchall’s main contribution has been to the referee’s notebook, so at the break, I make a big call: Windross and Birchall off, Tolley and Timko on.
It takes Shane Tolley only 39 seconds to get himself booked for swearing at the referee. I really don’t know what was going on in 2004/5 that made all these young men so angry. Timko, Cabrera, Cooke, and Pastuszka all join him on yellows, and of course, in the 87th minute, an aimless Grays long ball forward is collected by Steve West, he takes one touch that moves him past four of my defenders, and hits a speculative shot that Corderoy lets in at his near post. One goal from two shots in the whole game, Carl Emberson is man of the match having saved five really good efforts on target from us, and we slump to a facepalm-inducing home defeat.
Just dreadful. Fortunately there is some good news in that Margate could only muster a dreary 0–0 draw in their game away at Newport County, so despite that setback, we are still five points clear at the top of the pile — although I am now dreading our upcoming day beside the seaside.
Grays manager Mark Stimson gloats in the aftermath of their win, to which I respond by publicly declaring that I hate him. It’s textbook managerial banter from both of us, and speaking of managers, Oleg Luzhnyi decides he’d rather retire from football altogether than play for me, and takes on the big chair full-time at Venta. To be honest, we could have done with him. My defence has done well so far this season considering how desperately limited they all are — joint best defensive record in the league is nothing to be sniffed at in the grand scheme of things — but so many of our concessions, like that goal against Grays, could be avoided if we had someone with a bit of nous back there. I thought Kevin Gaughan was the man for the job, but he’s looked more and more like the backup plodder I initially signed him as the longer the season has gone on.
On returning to the familiar dank of my living room above the pub, I eventually find the scrap of paper I’d jotted all my potentially season-changing foreign imports onto. It’s January, and I’ve only signed 31 players since I arrived. I’m going in for a couple more.
£1,000 is handed to Oriental for the opportunity to offer a contract to José Américo Taira, a handy little all-rounder who’d be great in my midfield. If anything our midfield has been the highlight of the team this season, but bearing in mind that Howell and Cooke are both only loanees, we’re going to need to think about getting some cover in. Taira not only has a phenomenal range of passing, he’s also Determined, Aggressive and Influential. If we can pin his one Portugal cap down to 18 months in East London, we’d be in a great place.
Then, further good news arrives.
It’s another long shot, but I’m going to get a bit pre-excited about this one because it’s a 25-cap centre-half with 15 for Long Shots, and you all know how much I love a pointlessly maverick defender. Alfonso Dulanto can also really tackle, head and mark, and while he’s got the strength of a 9-year-old, I imagine that 19 for Anticipation and Positioning means you don’t need to be a brute in virtually any situation. We’ll take him, the Home Office, thanks. If you could just stamp whatever forms need stamped we’d all really appreciate it.
Limey’s floor is slippery from my salivating over our potential new recruits, and the unsure-footedness of my current cabal of also-rans reminds me that we should probably get on the road to Margate, currently the scariest of challengers to our title aspirations. Five points behind they may be, but the bad news is they’ve outscored us by three thanks mostly to the ongoing 22-goal haul of striker Michael Dickinson, and have the same defensive record as we do, with just 21 concessions in 24 games. Dickinson’s strike partner Rocky Baptiste has 12 goals and 12 assists in his 27 appearances, and with that kind of tandem up top, my aforementioned ropey defence is going to really need to step up if we’re going to roll back along the M2 with anything other than our Elcocks between our legs.
Naturally, we could barely be in worse shape going in. My whole defence and midfield is sitting at 91% fitness in the wake of the Gray’s debacle, while Pegger has had two more games added to his suspension, so my initial idea for a double-pivot in midfield is dashed before we even get off the bus. In the end, I only make a couple of changes. The truth is that my replacement defenders are so significantly worse than my starting ones, that even having the first-choicers at 90% is better than starting either of Pauls Moss or Browne. Booth returns in midfield for the enigmatic Cooke, who tries so hard that his legs don’t work for a few days after each game he starts, and Lee Paul returns up front with Windross as probably the best of the strikers I’ve signed recently. Timko has been almost completely anonymous and Vareille tries hard, but is very limited. They both do, however, make the bench as both Birchall and Tolley are unfit. I really don’t know what’s going to happen in this game. I’m not sure I want to know. Jorge…?
My jaw is on the floor at the start we make, because it’s not unfair to say that the first 20 minutes is total Urchin dominance. I don’t know which of my mumbling, trailing pre-match half-sentences caused this sort of reaction, but whichever it was, there can be no question that this was all my doing.
The only black mark against our swashbuckling is that we still can’t hit the bloody target. Margate are, defensively, all over the shop, which allows all three of Paul, Booth and Windross to get clean through, 1v1 with the keeper — and all of them slash their chances into the stands. Home keeper Scott Findlay does have to make one excellent save from Windross as he bears down for a fourth time, tipping over for a corner which comes to nothing, but as we head into the midway point of this opening 45, there’s no question that we’re knocking on some Kentish doors.
Unfortunately the next 20-odd minutes are the complete opposite, with my players suddenly deciding that long balls are the best option despite my howls to the contrary from the sideline. Every one we send forward just gets pumped straight back into our penalty area, and we’re very lucky that Margate’s normally deadly strikers are just as profligate as ours. Cords does have to make one superb save down low to his left from a Baptiste drive, but as half-time approaches, it’s been pretty even overall.
However, we won’t make it to the break without a goal. That’s because after a Cabrera burst down the left is turned over by hard-to-identify Margate centre-half Darren Annon, we get a throw in on the right that Pastuszka takes quickly to Booth. Unmarked, Boothy takes a couple of touches towards the Margate goal, and noticing that the home defenders don’t seem to care about his advances, he reaches the edge of the box before unleashing a piledriver of a shot that whizzes past Findlay and into the corner for 1–0 to the good guys, just before the break!
It’s been a good half, but I decide to make a single change at the break. Lee Paul has not been the man I might recognise from some old photos I found in the boot of my car, so he’s replaced by Jaroslav Timko. Our resident Slovakian veteran isn’t that fast, but he has good stats for Dribbling and, crucially, Finishing. At the very worst he should win us some free-kicks and help the ball stick up front as we defend this lead, and at best, he might actually, yknow, score. The thing I hired him specifically to do.
I rub his shoulders as he takes to the field. Come on, Jaro. I BELIEVE in you.
The second half starts poorly. Margate are everywhere, and while their attacks generally end with efforts launched into the atmosphere, it feels like only a matter of time before they make one count. On 52, Baptiste hits a speculative left-footed banger that clangs off Corderoy’s far post, and we are wobbling. However, Gaughan finds Booth with the rebounded ball, he sends Windross scurrying down the left… he crosses! TIMKO IS THERE! He’s tackled before he can get his shot away… but it bobbles to HOWELL!!!
WHAT A SAVE FINDLAY! Stunning one-handed stop from the home keeper, and a fantastic passage of play only wins us a corner. It’s encouraging, though. Margate are pushing, there’s a reason they’re so dangerous after all, but our counters are looking surprisingly good when we manage to execute them.
Margate change to a 4–3–3 and, to be honest, it’s an inspired change. I’ve already got five at the back so I’m not sure how to be any more defensive, but they are all over us. I change Gaughan’s closing down to “rarely” so that at least he doesn’t roam out of position — or at least, he shouldn’t — and also move Sarge back into actual DMC rather than MC with a backward run. That should, hopefully, help to stem the tide.
I’m watching through my fingers as Margate get a corner in the 65th minute. They’ve won basically every defensive header in this game so I fully expect to hear the net ripple as the lofted ball comes in, but instead, Cords punches away bravely from inside a gaggle of home attackers, and Booth smashes a wild clearance downfield… and Timko is on to it! He’s wrong side of the defenders but he started inside our half! THERE’S NO OFFSIDE!
Timko races through, or at least does the 38-year-old with 10 for Pace equivalent of races through — and that’s enough! The defender can’t get there! Findlay comes out… TIMKO GOES FOR THE LOB!
TIMMMKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
What a first goal for the mighty Urchins! Timko stabs a deft lob over the onrushing Findlay and into the back of the Margate net! It’s an unbelievable second goal, on the counter attack, and we’re 2–0 up! The 43 Ultras in the away end are nothing but limbs! It’s an incredible scoreline!!
I’ve barely put my trousers back on before Margate are on the front foot once again, attacking with verve and vigour. They have chance after chance in response to our, let’s face it, against-the-run-of-play second goal, and just seven minutes later, our lead is halved. A centered pass lands at the feet of veteran midfielder John Keister — I would have told Elcock to get right up him if he wasn’t on the bench — and his deflected shot spins past a helpless Corderoy, and just like that, the hosts are right back in it.
The last 20 minutes or so is nothing short of a siege on our penalty area. They still aren’t putting many chances on target, thank goodness, but as we tick into the last minute, Margate have had 28 shots on our goal — although only five have needed an intervention from Cords. I hastily make some time-wasting substitutions; Ruel Fox on for the irrepressible Howell, and Vareille for Windross, who looks absolutely finished.
The 93rd minute ticks over as Margate hump a pointless clearance into the crowd. It’s surely got to be over soon. I encourage Cabrera to waste time from the the throw in, but definitely misunderstanding me, he quickly finds the feet of Booth. Boothy looks up, again nobody is coming to challenge him 30 yards from goal. He advances. Still no challenge. He keeps advancing. The Margate defenders stand off. I’m screaming at him to take the ball into the corner, but Boothy? He’s having none of it, and with good reason, because in a carbon-copy of what happened about an hour ago, he unleashes a shot from the edge of the box that Findlay can only spectate as it lashes into the far corner, and with virtually no justification at all, we have beaten probably the most dangerous team in the division by three goals to one. Well I never.
It’s almost 10pm by the time we’ve calmed down from the game. I decide to let the players sleep in the van so we can wake up, bright, early and smelly, for a bracing January walk along the promenade. Sarge insists on an ice cream even though it’s two degrees below. He’s twice the man I’ll ever be.
As we stride around the sand through the freezing rain, I notice that Boothy is hobbling a bit. Upon consulting him over an increasingly soggy cone of chips, he tells me he’s twisted his knee, and will probably need a week or two to rest it. If only I had an ongoing transfer for another central midfielder who could provide cover…
Ohhhh yes, you better believe it. José Américo Taira is here, he absolutely relishes a pass, and he’s straight into the team for our next game — an away fixture at The Butcher’s Arms Ground (I think I know where we’re going for pints afterwards) against Droylsden in the FA Trophy Third Round.
I’m not too arsed about this competition in truth, so it will be an opportunity to try out some different players and maybe different roles. Our hosts are our counterparts in the Conference North; now top of the table with lots of goals scored and not many conceded, they won’t be pushovers. As I load the boys back onto our lime avenger and dispatch Mick to make arrangements for Taira’s flight to land at Manchester Airport so we can pick him up on the way, I consider my starting lineup.
Taira arrives simultaneously confused at the state of our mobile facilities, annoyed that he has to sit on my lap because there aren’t any spare seats, but from the feel of his firm, smooth buttocks, he’s fully fit and ready for action. And it’s a good thing, too — our exertions in those last two outings mean half the side need a big sleep, so Taira comes in along with “dead to me” James Smith, Paul Browne, Ruel Fox, Jerome Vareille and Jaroslav Timko, who deserves a start after his wonder goal against Margate. It really is all change, including on the bench, where I restore Paul Moss, Stephen Cooke and Lee Sharpe, who, yes, is still here.
Pegger’s suspended for yet another game so he misses out, which also means Sarge pretty much needs to start since I don’t have any other tackling midfielders. Then again, he is at 89%, and considering how little I care for the outcome of this game, I have a scoot around my under-19s just in case there’s someone in there I signed a few months ago and forgot all about…
Well, would you Adam and Eve it? I hastily ring The Windmill and ask Big Sooz if she’d mind nipping over the road and telling young Kim that he needs to get the next train to Manchester, quick smart. “Yes boss, I’ll book him a ticket as well if you like?” she replies, and before I can say that would be nice actually, he’s only 16, he might need a haircut too — she hangs up the phone. I knew she’d be the one to call.
With Kim safely in the away dressing room, my team is set. He’s comfortably the worst tackler in my team, but hey — his positions say he can play DMC. I realise he’s technically an MC with an arrow, but hopefully he won’t moan too much. And if he does, we’ll never see him again. Win-win!
It’s an entertaining first ten minutes, at the end of which we take the lead. Timko is felled in the box jinking past his defender for the third time, I’m scared because I realise I haven’t set any penalty takers from the players on the field, but thankfully Vareille — Pens 15 — insists that he’s the man for the job, and tucks into the bottom right corner for 1–0 to the mighty Urchins.
Unfortunately on 25 minutes James Smith continues to make a strong case for being one of the worst loan signings I’ve ever had by pointlessly deflecting an aimless Droylsden cross past Corderoy for 1–1, and finishing the half on such a desperate 5 that I hook him, realise that my misguided attempts to offer him redemption were in vain, and resolve to never play him again. Paul Moss comes on in his place. God help us all.
Ruel Fox is also being very wasteful every time he’s in the highlights so he’s replaced by Cooke, but it doesn’t affect the final score. Jerome Vareille is the highlight for us, honestly — not only a very cool pen, but constant runs in behind that were either not found by his team-mates, or were, but he slashed them into the crowd. Still, he’s a constant threat, man of the match for new-boy Taira, and with a highly changed team, it’s a good performance in a 1–1 draw that’ll see us welcome our hosts back to The Stadium for a replay.
And you know what? I have a few exciting-looking transfers that appear to be ripening, but for now, the replay is in four days. Let’s get home, have a wash in the sink, neck a few Goldschlagers, change into our home kits, and send more or less the same side out to see if they can do any better in front of the Horny Ultras, shall we?
Apart from James Smith. There is no more James Smith.
It’s not just another bloody excellent performance by a team that’s made up of squad players and a couple of guys who have only been in the door long enough to smell my breath — but Stud lovers, there might just be a brand new hero in town…
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