Take Me To Church, Ep 16: Dark Place
The Windmill is uproarious as I announce the news that Pegger has agreed a new contract to stay until the end of the 2006/07 season; everyone at the bar knows about all the problems with the club, since I’m constantly in here trying to slowly kill myself with alcohol for one reason or another. Today, the reason is initially happiness, but I soon find myself ordering a third tequila bomb out of frustration.
Jaroslav Timko might be the most enigmatic striker I’ve ever signed, and that’s a very deliberately chosen word so that nobody calls the police. He shows up, plays terribly, gets dropped, gets restored, starts knocking cheeky little lobs over every lower league goalkeeper he can lock eyes with, becomes a folk hero, then says he hates England and stops showing up for training — all the while, still getting game time as one of my few competent strikers and, yes, still scoring his trademark lobs.
Now, I could let him go away on a “leave of absence”, a thing in 2004/05, which I think makes him unavailable for a week, or maybe a couple of weeks. Not willing to risk it with our FA Trophy Quarter Final coming up game-after-next, I simply fine him a week’s wages — which he accepts— before clapping my phone closed and downing this horrible drink. I don’t know why I invented it. It’s a double tequila dropped into a full pint of Strongbow. It goes everywhere, it tastes awful, I can’t see, I really should just switch back to normal pints of tequila like the old days.
We wave Mick farewell at Upminster tube before piling aboard Limey for the short drive to Redbridge, 14th in the table and current loan owners of future Hornchurch ball-grabber Darryl Flavahan on loan from Southend. They also, somehow, have Lewis Grabban up front, on loan from Crystal Palace — a striker far too good for this division, and someone I’m immediately rather scared of. I explain to Cords that he will really, really need to keep an eye on his near post in this one.
I shed a small tear as Limey’s doors close and Jorge Cadete is stood on the kerb, waving joyously at us as we pull away. I wave back, bereft, since he’s still nursing the foot injury he picked up against Weymouth and really needs to rest before our huge tie against Basingstoke next week. With Timko also testing my patience almost to its limits, I am either physically or philosophically shorn of my preferred strikeforce, meaning that Windross and Tolley will get the chance to make something happen up top with Nix, Taira and our hero, Pegger, in behind. The one place he always is, exactly where you don’t want him to be.
At the back, Gaughan is off for his rest ahead of our clash with the Stoke, so Simek comes in, but otherwise it’s reasonably unchanged. I toy with playing Jamie Attwell in goal, but I think that can wait until we more or less know the league is won.
It’s an incredibly eventful opening ten minutes, where Redbridge create three great chances that are all stuck over the bar, and at the other end, Windross finds himself in a position where it would be easier to score than miss, but still manages to slip the ball wide of Flavahan’s far post.
Unfortunately, it continues downhill from there. Pastuszka slices through Robyn Onions in the 13th minute to give away a penalty that Grabban absolutely humps into the top corner, and on 22, left-back Goma Lambu hits one of the most outrageous strikes I’ve ever seen, a Roberto Carlos-style 40-yard thunderbastard from the left wing that explodes into the top far corner, and for the first time in a very long time, possibly ever, I can’t remember — we are 2–0 down. And we’re not just two down, we’re completely neutered; Redbridge look like the title contenders, and we look like we’re fighting for our lives. We can’t string a pass together, my attack is anonymous, we can’t get Nix or Taira on the ball; it’s dreadful stuff. We manage to get to the break without conceding further, and with only a single shot off target to show for our opening 45.
I drag the players into the changing rooms at half time and ask them what the hell is going on. They look scared, insecure and confused. I feel the same. In that moment, I decide we have to change; the main problem is midfield, which is being dominated by Redbridge. They’re only playing a 4–4–2, for goodness’ sake, but our three are nowhere and their four are all over us. So, I make a single change and take us back to an old favourite.
I send the players back out praying it’ll give us some stability and knowing full well that Simek is out of position, but with Browne on the bench, I can change it up if his performance plummets. I just want to save my other changes for attacking ones later on, cos I have a feeling I might need them.
We’re much, much better in the second half, but we seem to have fallen back into a worrying old pattern. Windross wins the ball from a defender and shoots on goal — wide. Cabrera crosses onto the head of Tolley — wide. Booth takes a throw in down and charges into the box — wide. Taira swings a corner onto the head of Tolley — wide. Flavahan only has to make his first save in the 86th minute from José Taira, and then smothers bravely at the feet of Tolley on 89.
Of course, as you can see, we are rapidly running out of time to turn this around, and even bringing on Vareille for the now-hopeless Windross doesn’t change things enough. Redbridge only manage one effort on goal in the whole half, firing so high over the bar it might have cleared the stadium roof in the 93rd minute, but they don’t have to worry — they did their job in the first half. It’s nice to see my new keeper looks decent, but we have fallen badly here.
Grays Athletic appear to be mirroring us, as they lose 1–0 at home to fellow challengers Margate, so again — despite this dreadful performance and result — we remain seven points clear at the top of the table. I just… I really don’t like the way things are going at the moment at all.
I slump into my well-buttocked seat at the Windmill bar and Big Sooz comes over to console me, a role she hasn’t had to play for some time since we’ve been an all-conquering force of nature in the Conference South for most of the season. The last few weeks, though, she’s been a huge help.
She adjusts her glasses and remarks that we might have grown beyond five at the back, as she hands me a slice of her latest pie — chicken and kidney today. I look at her a little sideways, but you know what? It’s delicious, and she might be right. We were far better in that second half with my old faithful 4–1–3–2, which we tried earlier in the season and abandoned quickly when we looked terrible with it. The difference is, though, that now we actually have competent footballers, or at least we do most of the time, so perhaps it is time for a change. Having Booth, Nix, Taira and Pegger in midfield would be great for us. They’re all such productive players, and while my three CBs have definitely kept us safe, I reckon now we can just let Luis and Harry take care of business back there.
It’s a risky call to make before a cup quarter final, but I actually feel happier making a big decision now rather than staying with the sloppy status quo that’s seen us concede seven goals in our last five games and not win either of our last two. Not changing feels like a bigger risk, and this is coming from a man who consistently eats the mystery meat kebabs from the shop down the road.
The press do me a favour before the game by making a big song and dance about their opinion that José Taira is “past his best” (7.83 average rating from 12 games), which is all the team talk I need to get him, and most of the rest of his teammates, motivated for a big push towards the semi finals of this competition. In one sense there aren’t many gambles in my starting team, and in another, there are plenty. All the players are good, reliable footballers, sure. But three attacking CMs? Just two CBs? A striker up front who doesn’t want to be here, alongside another just returning from injury? This is going to be a rollercoaster. Mick — clean these boots. Jorge — you’re with me. Let’s do this.
I’m not sure whether it’s my change in system or our opponents getting into the Red Bull stash before the game, but Basingstoke are absolutely possessed in the opening minutes of this game. They put together two great moves that, thankfully, sail over Corderoy’s crossbar in the first ten.
I also notice that their full-backs are called Stamp —Neville and Nathan on the left and right, respectively. I’m not sure if they’re related, but the Super Stamp Bros. certainly live up to their names, giving Kyle Nix an absolute walloping after just seven minutes that puts him down to green-injured for the rest of the game.
Boothy gets booked for trying to extract a modicum of revenge before a wild Pegger clearance down the left lands in front of Jorge Cadete for the first time. Flowing locks, perfect teeth and a turn of pace that only a Ford Focus could match, he tears past Paul Graham and smashes a shot straight at Tarr, but it’s too hot for Scott to handle — and it dribbles past him, into the back of the net, and it’s 1–0 to the good guys, with our first chance of the game! DRINK!
I have started to wonder if we’ve been cursed by the ghost of Lee Sharpe since everything seems to have been going wonky since he left for Crawley, and just ten minutes later, it’s time for our regularly scheduled penalty concession. This time it’s Luis Manuel pointlessly ploughing through striker Graeme Churchill, who has his back to goal just inside the edge of the box, and star midfielder Chris Davies crashes the spot kick into Cords’s top bin. I haven’t got us on hard tackling, I haven’t told the players to be particularly aggressive, why do they keep doing this? In the box as well! It’s really starting to get on my nerves, and I really have to remember to start bringing some of Sooz’s comfort pie with me to away games.
I’m disappointed at just how much ‘Stoke are attacking us. They seem to have the ball constantly and we’re only able to have prods back at them on the counter. They are at home in a knockout game, I suppose — it probably should be expected. We manage to hold them to just that single shot on target as we approach half time, however, and with the whistle in the referee’s lips, the ball is blasted into the crowd for an Urchins throw. Pastuszka takes it quickly, finding Pegger on the byline for some reason. He manages to sort of bundle past a couple of defenders and hoof what’s meant to be a cross into the box, but it gets toed by a defender on the way through… it’s loose! Everyone’s missing it! Stamp is there to clear, BUT TAIRA IS THERE FIRST!!
HNNNNGGGOOOOOOOOOAAAALLLLLLLL TAIIIIRRAAAAAAA!!
Thank you, you marvellously deluded no-mark red-top morons! Write off José Taira at your peril! It’s 2–1 at the break!
We should be 3–1 up within minutes of the restart. An incredibly loose backpass from midfield is latched onto by Cadete, miles clear of the defenders, with just Tarr to beat. I really expect a striker of his class and hairstyle to tuck these away 99 times out of 100, but today was the one, as Scott Tarr stands tall and blocks his attempt from ten yards. He really should do better.
Timko then fires over from a great position and finally, we appear to be in the ascendency. Tarr then makes a fabulous stop from a Timko drive across him towards the far corner and Cadete heads over from a corner. Tolley, on for Booth at half time who had a very weird and disappointing 5, then releases Cadete again, who again finds Tarr in the way as he bears down on goal. This is more like the Urchins I know. We’re raggedy, we’re scruffy, but by god, we get the job done.
Timko is on a 6 and a booking as we reach the hour mark, and although he has been dangerous, it’s time for him to make way for Jerome Vareille. He comes on to take up the mantle of striker who gets put through on goal but shoots wide instead of hitting the target, doing so twice in the first five minutes he’s on the pitch. Taira then has a thunderbastard fingertipped over the bar by Tarr, before bursting once again into the box and being tripped by Gulliver for today’s second penalty! Jerome Vareille makes no mistake from the spot, and with 20-odd minutes left, we’re 3–1 up and looking good.
I’m very glad to say that we’re not done there, though. Tolley crosses from the left, Tarr flaps at it, and Vareille, lurking behind him, heads home his second and our fourth, before a game of pinball on the edge of the box leads to the ball falling at the feet of José Taira, and he tries his thunderbastard yet again, only this time Tarr can get nowhere near it, and it rockets in off the bar for 5–1!
“You don’t know what you’re doing!” chant the away fans into the face of a lone Daily Mail reporter in the ground, and they’re right, you know. For a man who’s meant to be past his best, José Taira scores a fantastic brace alongside two brilliant sub cameos from Tolley and Vareille, and after a nervy start and a weird performance from Booth, we’ve emerged as comprehensive victors in the FA Trophy Quarter Final. Massive semis all round!
The draw is made as soon as the game is over, and it will be a doozy. Aldershot Town, a team very close to my heart, beat Nuneaton Boro and we will host them at The Stadium in the first game of our two-legged semi-final on 13th April. I used to play for their youth team in the real lifes, you may or may not know, but as well as that, their 2005 side also features the familiar faces of Tarkan Mustafa and Ray “Panzer” Warburton from my time at Rushden & Diamonds. They also have the man with the most fun name to say in all of English football, Adrian Rigoglioso, so it will be a happy occasion no matter the outcome.
Non-league Dover have made it to the other semi final, by some miracle, and face top-of-the-Conference Barnet in what should be a tantalising clash. It’s been a pretty amazing run for Dover, over which they’ve beaten several supposedly bigger sides — including a victory on pens against Accrington Stanley, currently 2nd in the Conference National. They are no slouches, that’s for sure. I wonder if they’ve got any wonderkids…
Limey is barely in the car park at The Stadium before I’m sending the players straight out for our home clash with Bognor Regis Town, with just a whiff of stale buttock in the air. Due to other games being played while we were off on our cup jollies, our lead has been cut to four points — but I am very glad to see that, thanks to other results, we are now at least guaranteed a playoff place. So that’s nice. If we end up in the playoffs I will cry, though.
It’s a narrow win scoreline-wise, but the overall story of the match is that we’re back to our dominant best. We finish having created 21 chances, mostly through Shane Tolley who loves that central midfield role, and scored two through Cadete first, a lovely low finish past Jenkins from Vareille’s flick on, then Tolley slides one through for the Frenchman to annihilate the net with our second, and a Luke Nightingale mazy solo run and finish past debuting home keeper Jamie Attwell is the only blot on our copybook.
And honestly, with my eyes squarely on the Aldershot tie in two games’ time, I decide to just plow through our following fixtures against Cambridge City away, then Maidenhead at The Stadium. I might even let Susan into the dugout to mop my brow and charge my glass.
First up: The Lilywhites.
It’s an incredibly even game that home keeper Craig Devlin basically hands to us. Both teams create ten chances, but the difference is that we put four on target and score three.
First, a Devlin goal kick lands straight on the chest of Shane Tolley, who brings it down and clips straight over the top for a free-running Vareille to pass in at the near post. Then, after City level on half an hour from a spectacular direct free kick, Vareille restores our lead right on the 45. Nix collects another goal kick and puts Taira through, his shot is saved, but the Frenchman is on hand to smash over a prone Devlin and into the far corner.
The second half is, to put it lightly, a turgid affair. We kick our opponents to the point that they’ll probably be called the Lilyreds from now on, committing a total of 32 fouls over the course of the match, ruining any flow that might have come from either side. However, in the 87th minute the game is finally settled as the umpteenth Devlin goal kick of the day goes straight to our midfield, Taira passes to Cadete, and he does what he does best: bullies his way past the defender and unleashes an absolute blockbuster past the flailing home stopper for 3–1.
And next we welcome Maidenhead, who replace Cambridge at 13th in the table after we defeated them last time around. I don’t particularly see any reason to change anything, so let’s just do the job. In fact, Jorge, you do the job. I’ve got a headache that only Goldschläger can fix.
As expected, Jorge takes care of it with no problem, and I watch the highlights on the telly in The Windmill. When I saw Harry scored the first I assumed header from a corner, but not so: Cabrera plays a one-two with Tolley on the left and arrows a cross to the far post, where — if you can believe it — centre-half Harry N’Timbanzeh ghosts past the Magpies’ defence, takes the ball down, and rockets one home for 1–0 to the good guys! Unbelievable scenes. Jorge may have too much power.
And actually, there is a header from a corner in this game — Cadete’s goal, swung in by Pegger and powered home by our Portuguese man o’war for a pretty decisive, comprehensive victory. Zero shots on target for our visitors, 21 chances created for us, simple pimples.
And so, going into our crunch semi-final against Aldershot Town, your mighty Urchins are not just top of the league — we’re nine points clear with just three games to go, and with +15 goal difference over Grays Athletic in second. The league is all but won, and we’ve got a huge chance to put a cup on the Windmill’s bar by the end of May. Next time around, we’ll figure out how this all shakes out. Get your Irish coffees ready!
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