Take Me To Church, Ep 9: The Old One-Two
I give the players as long as they want to wind down and celebrate their recent form after the Weymouth game. I have been leading by example, after all — I’m pretty sure I’m the most hungover person in the history of Hornchurch Football Club, and therefore also the coolest. It’s time I let some of that shine rub off on the rest of the lads.
Mick corners me early on in the night to show me his stickerbook collection. I nod through the presentation wearily, glancing at Sarge, Pegger and Elcock, who are telling tales of all the knees they’ve broken over the years, while teenagers Cords, Birchall and Lawless nurse their pints, unsure whether they’re really allowed to be in a pub after 9pm. I think I overhear Lee Sharpe and Ruel Fox wondering aloud how on earth it came to this, but I can’t be certain. I’m sadly trapped listening to the story of how difficult it was to find the St Mirren team sticker in 1979.
I make my excuses and shuffle off to bed as early as social etiquette will allow. We’ve got Bishop Stortford next, 21st in the league and looking in trouble already, so I decide this will be the game to let Liverpool loanee James Smith have his first go in central defence alongside the tremendous Kevin Gaughan. He hasn’t taken many plaudits for his performances so far this season, but with a 7.53 average rating from his 19 games at centre half, including two goals and two assists, he’s been the linchpin of my defence regardless of what idiotic formation I’ve arranged my players into. However, back to Smith — on a like-for-like basis, he should be better than Simek. Physically he’s a vast upgrade, he’s more aggressive and brave, and crucially, a better tackler. He does lose out to Frankie on Teamwork, Work Rate, Composure and Strength though, so I’m interested to see how he gets on when chucked directly into the naked flame that is an away fixture in the Conference South.
I’m a little scared at the sight of another of my definitely-not-long-lost-children Trevor Paul up front for the Blues, while I also notice a familiar name at right midfield: Victor Renner, who’s grown a Boyle since I last saw him around 2001/02. He is still very fast and very Finishing. Hopefully Cabrera can give him a good whack early on.
That preamble I did about my two centre-halves for this game, I swear to you, I wrote before we kicked off — I always write things in the order they appear. I say this because not only are Bishop’s Stortford a far, far sterner test than I was expecting and all my defenders and goalkeeper have to play out of their skins to keep the score at 0–0, we do eventually win this game against the run of play, and it’s all because of my two CBs.
For the first hour of this game, we are under intense pressure. We only manage one shot off-target in that time, whereas Bishop’s Stortford are constantly pressing and probing and shooting from all over the place; they get dangerous free-kicks, corners, win headers and second balls. My defenders, though, have decided that today is not the day for the home side, and they put in shifts that even I wasn’t sure they were capable of. Elcock gets nine of a total 21 interceptions across my back four and Smith and Gaughan win seven key headers — including two that directly contribute to goals.
In the 70th minute, Bishop’s Stortford have the ball for the umpteenth time and approach down the left. They swing a cross into the box that looks dangerous, but James Smith thumps an incredible header halfway down the pitch — all the way, in fact, to Andrew Windross, who takes a touch, turns, and lays the ball through Birchall to run through, steady himself, and fire in at Mark Westhead’s near post.
Five minutes later, Kevin Gaughan gets in on the action. Yet another Blues attack is broken up, Gaughan pumps an inch-perfect header into the right-hand channel for Birchall, who does what he does best: skips past a defender, bears down on goal, then rockets a shot in at the far post for 2–0 with our first two shots on target. If I was the home manager I’d be screaming about getting champed, because that’s exactly what’s happening here.
Eventually something has to give at the other end, and once the Blues go to 2–3–5, their overwhelming numbers nab them a lifeline with nine minutes left — but as often happens with these mad attacking switches, we actually end up seeing more of the ball than they do. I drop Pegger into DMC with Sarge which pretty much takes care of the BS overloads — clever double meaning there, thank you — and when we clear, we’re regularly three or four on two, but Westhead pulls out some remarkable saves to keep his team alive. It’s not enough though, and for the third game on the bounce, your mighty Urchins run out 2–1 winners. Definitely a joke in here about bashing the Bishops but I’m far too classy to make it.
There’s only two days until our next fixture, which is an FA Trophy Second Round game against Barking and East Ham. Since they’re a club without a division and we barely make it back to The Stadium in time for kick off after Pegger insists on spending a couple of hours playing the fruit machines at Epping services, I wave some of my fringe players into the starting eleven to see what they can do, and leave Jorge in charge for the afternoon.
We’re obviously better, but our visitors take the lead with a one-in-a-million goal after just three minutes. Dean Worthington hits the most speculative of efforts from 25 yards, with three of my defenders pressuring him, and the ball flies into the top corner at Corderoy’s near post to put us behind.
We do, however, redress the balance before half time, and it’s a first mighty Urchins goal for none other than Ruel Fox. The former Norwich, Newcastle and Spurs legend rolls back the years as he picks up a simple pass from Windross just over half way, bursts between three Barking players with Acceleration he really shouldn’t possess any more, and thrashes a shot across Mark Fay in the away nets and into the top corner for 1–1 at the break!
We really struggle to get anything going in the second half. Possession-wise it’s all us, but Cooke in particular is not having the best game. Our attackers are working hard, but it all just feels a bit… dull. We aren’t piercing properly, we’re blunt. If only I had someone on the bench who was a bit more… I don’t know. Sharp? We need to be a bit sharper. We’re lacking sharpness.
Jorge clears his throat behind me. I turn around. Lee Sharpe is standing next to him, stripped and ready to come on. I don’t get it.
Yep. Lee Sharpe comes on in AMC for Stephen Cooke and changes the entire game. In 25 minutes he completes four key passes, six dribbles, five shots — three on target — and crucially, scores the 90th minute winner that will take us through to the next round. I’m sure he’ll manage to shrug off the shackles of being our game-changing goalscoring hero and start moaning about playing out of position the moment the final whistle goes, though.
Of course.
To be completely honest, he can complain all he wants as long as he’s winning me football matches. I don’t care if he writes me a strongly worded letter every hour. I love you, Sharpey. You can’t change that.
Also, what a performance from Ruel Fox by the way. Not just the goal, but those stats. Eight key passes, won every tackle, four completed dribbles, what a brilliant solo game. It’s very relieving to see, since Simieon Howell will only be here for nine more weeks. Maybe I have built a half-decent squad of players capable of stepping up when they’re called upon, rather than a handful of plodders who moan about everything and are only one bad pass away from a three. Maybe.
I decide not to sign Joe Brincat after all. Adding another DMC to my squad until the end of the season doesn’t seem prudent at this stage; we play with one, we’ve already got two excellent examples in Sarge and Pegger, and with money extremely limited, we have to spend it wisely. Sorry Joe, I know this is probably the biggest disappointment of your career, but I’ve got to keep the best interests of the club (and my desire to spend every penny I have on South Americans) in mind.
I do, however, take a couple of potential AM/FCs on trial: Shane Tolley and Ricardo Beckford. Tolley looks a player, Trevor Steven agrees, so I’ll let him train with the squad for a week and then offer him a deal. Beckford doesn’t look as good and Trev agrees with me, so I’ll do the same, but only give him Hot Prospect terms. If he agrees, fine, if not — we’ll let him go. I’m not sure if this is the game where Tolley turns out to be a wonderkid, but if he’ll take a squad rotation role, I’m happy to find out.
Right, back to the league we go, and we’re off to sunny Bognor Regis to face the side 9th in the Conference South but with only one win in their last nine games. It’s a 19:30 kick off, so I gather the lads at London Bridge train station for the 11:07 Southern train down to the South coast. I at least want an ice cream and a stroll along the promenade with Sarge before we have to go to the ground.
As I said, Bognor aren’t on the best run at the moment, whereas we’re on a string of four consecutive 2–1 wins in all competitions since our loss to Bristol Rovers. I restore my strongest players to the starting eleven, although that does mean dropping Ruel Fox which feels unfair after his 10, but he’s on 90% fitness so restoring Simieon Howell seems more sensible. I also include a start for Sharpey in the hole after that amazing sub performance last time around. I fully expect him to drop to a 3 and get subbed at half time. However, if he can put in even half the game he did against those damned Bishops, I’d be delighted. Bognor aren’t in a good place right now. Maybe we can apply a bit of… pier pressure? No? Okay.
Lee Sharpe hits yet another milestone as he actually drops to a TWO for a short time before proving that he can, in fact, play comfortably in AMC by laying on the first goal. He takes a pass into his feet from Andrew Windross, turns a defender, then slips a perfect ball through for Adam Birchall to fire home his ninth of the season. We can’t just have nice things though, and Elcock smashes Robbie Chesters in the box just before half time to give away a pen that David Piper converts for 1–1 at the break.
The second half is really drab. The only highlight that doesn’t feature someone ballooning a free-kick into the atmosphere is Alex Lawless having a low drive saved in the 87th minute and Ruel Fox, on as a sub, unable to convert the follow-up — and after a really tedious watch, we’re forced to eat a draw on the road. 8s for both my central midfielders though — they both really are fantastic middle men.
Right lads, it’s been eight games since we kept a clean sheet and I would really like one in our next game away at Thurrock, who are just behind us in the table and closing in fast. It’s our game in hand; a win will take us within two points of new leaders Grays Athletic, while a defeat will leave us stranded in fourth while allowing Thurrock to make the top of the table a seven-horse race.
It’s a really competitive league, which I enjoy, but I also like winning everything in sight, so to “ensure” we don’t concede, plus to mix things up after I feel like our 4–1–2–1–2 has become a bit stale, I switch to 5–3–2 but with Elcock and Cabrera as full-backs rather than wing-backs since they sulk down to 3s at the sight of their names in that position on the whiteboard. Booth and Sarge will patrol midfield, Ruel Fox gets a free role and licence to go wherever he wants, while Windross is suspended, so I make a very bold decision in the forward areas. Once again, for those of you who need to comfort eat after looking at an asymmetrical formation, you’d better fire up the microwave.
I can’t resist cramming Lee Sharpe into my team whenever possible, and this seems as good a chance as any. My only other actual striker is Ross Harrison, whose non-stop complaining has gotten on my nerves so much that I’m offering him to other clubs for free, so there’s no way I’m letting him wear the shirt. You understand my quandary.
We make a fantastic start to the game, and my quirky formation causes havoc for Thurrock in the opening stages. Sarge gets a booking after 5 minutes for almost ending the life of a man, but other than that, we’re making chances left, right and centre — although mostly left, where Lee Sharpe is drifting around finding pockets of space and nobody knows how to mark him. He completes five dribbles and makes a few key passes in the first half, while at the other end Kevin Gaughan almost single-handedly nullifies Thurrock every time they even mention entering our third.
With the scores tied at 0–0 as we approach the break, Sarge’s natural instincts get the better of him. Gaughan hoofs his way through Tresor Kandol to break up another Thurrock attack, the referee gives a foul, and Sarge goes after referee Gary Chapman like he’s a brand new squaddie with an unmade bed. Unfortunately, in this situation, Mr Chapman is the man with the power, and Sarge’s second yellow card swiftly follows. He’s off, he still wants a piece of the referee, nineteen other players finally manage to convince him to leave the pitch, but the bad news for us is that it’s half time in a close, important contest, and we’re down to ten men.
Initially I leave the team as they are, with just two in midfield and five at the back. It’s an obvious mistake that I take a full 22 minutes to rectify, during which time I’m indebted to Corderoy, who makes five fantastic saves — including one from a point-blank header — and Kevin Gaughan, who appears determined to stop Thurrock no matter the cost to his body. I finally make the change my players desperately need in the 67th minute, as Sharpe — whose influence has waned without the proper scaffolding behind him — gives way and arch-dribbler Simieon Howell comes on to reform my previous three-man midfield. Birchall is now having to do the long runs up top by himself, but to be honest, at this point I’d take a draw.
My ingenious tactical switch pays the dividends that I fully planned and expected when I made it, and on an unrelated note I seem to have my tongue stuck in my cheek. Mark Booth is having a blinder in midfield as usual — he’s almost averaging an 8 for the season, he’s been that good — and it’s his simple pass to Howell that sets my new favourite loanee off on a trademark mazy run towards the Thurrock goal. He carves a path through the centre of the home defence, makes a yard for himself, and fires a shot that’s straight at the goalkeeper — but it’s so fierce that Andy Woodman can’t hold it. He spills, he’s prone, the ball is loose, and wouldn’t you just know it, Adam Birchall calmly passes his tenth goal of the season into the back of the net. With ten men, we’re ahead!
Thurrock proceed to scare the bejesus out of me by going to the 2–3–5 that’s become very familiar over the course of this season so far, so I quickly introduce Pegger for Fox and pull him into DMC alongside Booth while cancelling my full backs’ forward runs. We just about manage to hold out for the last ten, and with Sarge outside in a minibus with the engine running, we leg it straight off the pitch, in the back, and splutter back to East London with all the points. Where he got the minibus I’m not sure, but I’m also not going to ask.
In the aftermath, I learn that all my transfer deals for non-EU players have failed at the work permit stage, and I am devastated. But we’re up to second in the table, two points behind the leaders! That sounds like two great reasons to get lost in a bottle of Jack Daniels. Sooz, how much is a whole bottle from behind the bar? Don’t worry — my assistant manager is picking up the tab, isn’t that right Mick?
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