This was supposed to be a title decider, but that particular issue was decided some time ago. When the race was on, the date was firmly in the diary; I’d imagined it would be played on a balmy spring evening with a expectant crowd in shirt sleeves. With the title race gone cold, although it was balmy, appropriately, there was a nip in the air.
From the off, it was evident that whatever the differences between the teams this season, Oxford fans were determined to demonstrate a gulf between the clubs. The singing was loud and tight, not like the Orient game where the crowd were fractious, angry and twitchy; this was a hark back to better times, it even felt a bit like the London Road. The Daggers brought a good load with them, but they could barely be heard. Makes a change from being out-sung by 9 men and a dog from a Lancastrian seaside town.
Then their goal came; and it revealed how damaged we are as a club. Like Apollo Creed fighting the giant automaton Ivan Drago in Rocky IV; no amount of fancy shorts, baby oil and showboating can disguise the fact that underneath the bonnet there’s a damaged engine. One decent shot from the healthier foe and we were reeling. Each set back is like opening a gaping wound. It caused a typically Pavlovian response; berating Andy Burgess, booing at half-time, both were barely deserved, but it’s a habit we’ve got into.
There are shoots of recovery; the improving crowds, the togetherness, and the emerging flag culture, but this is a club that is has taken quite a beating for a long time. Much as we try to put on a brave face, we’re tired of failure, of fighting the sickness that stricken us for so long. I’m not talking about the players, I’m talking about the fans.
Then, for ten minutes we were brilliant. Swarming forward with abandon, everything was gelling, everyone was on their toes. Yemi was playing the game of his life marauding down the right whilst Eddie Anaclet ran shotgun behind him. Yemi’s second goal, in particular, triggered an eruption of sheer joy. Suddenly, it was fun to be an Oxford fan, in fact it was the most fun we’d had in nearly a decade.
The current team is a vanguard for a new Oxford; like all vanguards, mistakes are made, lessons need to be learnt. Twelve months ago we were a ragged, farce of a club with factions and fractures everywhere. Something had to change, a new club was needed; this isn’t the club of Chicken George Lawrence and John Aldridge; it’s Oxford 2.0, the next generation. Last night there was the slightest glimmer of what might be.
The Daggers were efficiently effective, The Us were superior, but in patches and, crucially, we were profligate in front of goal; which pretty much sums up the season. There’s no doubting that these are the two best teams in the division and both deserve league football. The play-offs are a lottery, I just hope that despite the last minute equaliser, we, the players, the fans, realise how much stronger we are, remembering how we battered the league champions and how much we still deserve to, and should, go up in May.