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Crewe Alexandra v Oldham Athletic – League One
Gresty Road, Crewe
Boxing Day 2008, 15:00 k.o.
So where would you rather be?
Holed up on some boat or other, trawling the Caribbean? Spending the Festive period on a beach drinking the local lager, probably a cocktail for the lady?
Or would you rather be travelling to darkest Cheshire, for a Boxing Day clash with the bottom club? Answer carefully, or risk a whack round the head.
I know where I’d rather be, but sadly I’m looking after the flag.
At least it wasn’t raining – in fact it was a nice day for watching football, no clouds to be seen.
As usual, the idea was to get to the pub in plenty of time to catch the early game. Shouldn’t come as a surprise really. We picked Neil up in Wilmslow just before twelve, where he locked his front door and headed to the car. At twelve, he went back in to get the wallet and phone. Good start. It’s a forty-minute drive from there to the ground, and we spotted a nice spot next to some houses for a spot of convenient parking. Neil left the car and we set off. He then returned to the car to get the wallet and phone again. Poor old wallet – he didn’t want to come to see Latics at all. We drifted up the hill to the super stadium (this isn’t as interesting as the Southend one, is it?), where the now familiar photo was taken. Notice how white this flag is at the moment.
A quick call to Matt confirmed that we were stood over the road from the official pub (the one with the big number seven outside it, according to his description). From where we were, you could hear clearly they had the game on and with plenty of speakers. This, of course, equals plenty of large, flat screen televisions on which to see the clash of two of everyone’s favourite teams – Stoke City and “them”. I know this to be true, and so do you, but the owners of “Big Number Seven Outside” pub do not. We had one large projector type affair (and not a great one at that) and very few tables.
The lager was served in those plastic glasses that are of “Test Cricket” quality – in other words, slightly thicker than cling film. No time to try shifting three of those in one go. Terry, Margaret, Matt and Emma were already well set, so we joined them to discuss the state of the global economy, world politics and other highbrow topics. Either that or it was Latics, Christmas and how to wash a flag.
The pub filled up as kick-off approached, making me forget to take any photos of it. Rick rolled in with flu, not a red wine hangover like last time. Once he found out that Mark needed text updates so he can keep up with the fun on his Christmas cruise, he declared that it would be fun to send lots in a co-ordinated effort to make it sound like he’d missed a ten goal thriller.
The Red Menace scored a late winner (never seen them do that before) and there were some people in Latics shirts that actually seemed pleased with this. Just a handful, not a disaster.
The ground at Gresty Road is one of those with three very small stands and one disproportionate giant affair on one side. The away contingent of 1,500 or so punters sat opposite that along the side of the ground. The sun was on the way down, but due to the size of the stand behind the goal this meant that the first half hour would be spent covering your eyes. Some people like to do that for the full ninety minutes every week. The stand did have a handy flag-displaying rail at the bottom. So you’ll never work out what we did.
Being all-ticket, you don’t get to choose who you sit with. This played itself out as you would expect. Kieran Lee was making his full debut, Kevin Maher was in as well. The bloke behind wrote off Lee before he’d touched the ball (“Well, he used to play for United”, is a translation of what was said). This man “entertained” those around him for the next sixty minutes.
The first half consisted of not a lot of shooting, them attacking and the away fans not being able to see it, and the ball bouncing of Darren Byfield’s foot. He was having that kind of afternoon. Hughes was sent clean through by a superb flick on from the defender. He had to score. He didn’t. At least he missed on the side that made everyone thought it was in until it came back off the advert boards.
There were a few chances at either end before the end of the half. Stam went off injured – “broken toe nail, out for six months” according to Bob Hope on row F – to be replaced by Mr Sean Gregan.
At half time, I decide that fifteen minutes queuing to use the inadequate plumbing facilities would be better than listening to the analysis of the game, and sent Mark his text update on the way. Neil later said that Rick had sent “about six”.
The second half needed to buck up a bit, and thankfully it did. Both teams had a bit of a go from the off, and the first goal came just before the hour mark. Byfield cut back in the box and fired one past the keeper. He’d not had the best of games to that point, but that now mattered not, and a few people quietened down a bit. That was the best thing about it.
The goal had rattled Crewe, but after recent weeks the importance of scoring the second was obvious. Ten minutes later, they duly did. It was fair to say that the Crewe fans behind the goal did not really like Lee Hughes, and they’d been dishing it out. They’re not the first and won’t be the last. Kieran Lee teed him up, and he didn’t mess about. A nice curler made it 2-0, and a celebratory jog behind the goal made it action time for the stewards. The ref had a word, but no more.
One-way traffic ensued. And it was three before the end – Lewis Alessandra (on for Byfield) held the ball up and put over an inviting cross. Mr Hughes duly obliged and waved to his friends behind the net once again. He made sure they could clearly see how to spell his name, in case anyone wanted to order a replica shirt. Lewis nearly got another, but that would have meant that Mark didn’t trust my text messages as well as Rick’s. Three goals, three points. Nicely done.
The other Mark was pinching a lift back to Neil’s for a night out on the beer in Wilmslow (“Better take plenty of money out tonight for these London prices” “You’ll wish they were London prices mate”). He had to get his kit bag from the bag of his Dad’s car, and we arranged to meet him near the pub. To kill the ten minutes or so it would (or at least should) take, a visit was made to the chip shop. Neil asked for a chip muffin - they didn’t have a clue what he meant. I didn’t think we were that far south. Mexican Burrito? No problem. He walked them through it like a Gordon Ramsey cook-a-long – Muffin, butter, f***ing chips - DONE. This didn’t help the next plucky Latics fan that asked for one.
Back at the car, the lads chose to pay a visit before setting off. Against someone’s fence. No pictures of that. While waiting, I called a taxi to get us from the pavement to the car.
Another successful trip then, and that’s it for 2008. Have a Happy New Year and the flag lads will see you in 2009 over the border in Yorkshire.
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