To paraphrase Half Man Half Biscuit, I was a pre-teen armchair Ipswich fan. When I was three, my dad let me choose my first football kit, and given the choice between old gold and black – his preferred Wolves option – and a blue and white ‘other’ – I picked the blue. When I asked who played in blue, dad said Ipswich Town and that was that.
It coincided with their glory years and fuelled many little obsessions I have about football. The FA Cup, flags, shirt number fonts, sponsors, penalty saves – Paul Cooper was the king – and a whole range of kit related things from away shirts to alternative coloured shorts.
I cried when Ipswich lost the 1981 FA Cup semi-final to Manchester City. Then they threw away the league title when they should have won it. They did win the UEFA Cup, but it was the beginning of the end of everything for me and them. In 1982, Oxford, who I’d been watching in real life, appointed Jim Smith. A few months later Ipswich manager Bobby Robson left for the England job sending them into a steep decline they’ve never really recovered from.
My transformation from Ipswich fan with an Oxford flirtation, to Oxford fan with an Ipswich past was all but complete. We soared as they struggled; in 1986, fresh from our Milk Cup win, we beat Arsenal to stay up sending Ipswich down in the process. It was kind of fitting.
Still, Ipswich Town v Oxford United holds a certain resonance for me. I can’t name any of their players, but I look at them as if staring through an opaque window at my lost childhood and the innocent wonder I used to find in football, most of which is lost never to be recovered.
With their brief period of glory bonded to my DNA somewhere deep down, I wasn’t expecting us to win on Saturday. A team like us, don’t simply go to Portman Road and beat a team like them. Ipswich were pre-season favourites for the title and still feel like an unobtainable benchmark we’d struggle to better. But, like a lot of teams that drop from the Championship, they’re clearly more damaged than they superficially appear. Even then, the club, it’s history and the ground still promotes something, for me, that is beyond us.
But, the win was a timely reminder of who we are and what Karl Robinson and the board have built. It has opened things back up for us as they go into free fall. It reminded me of our 1-0 win at Portsmouth in 2016 on the way to promotion. It wasn’t just the three points, it was the quality of the goal and management of the game in that setting that shows the maturity and potential we have.
It’s no coincidence that the core of Eastwood, Dickie, Brannagan, Gorrin, Henry and Taylor is back together, fit and healthy. That’s the unit that brought success earlier in the season. Keeping them all on the pitch at the same time has been the challenge. It’s a rare combination that we’ll struggle to maintain over the summer, so prepare yourself for more wailing about a lack of ambition, but for now, they have to be amongst the best in the division and we should just enjoy that.
The win turns what had been a daunting month into one of some promise. The remaining two games of February are both at home to lower placed teams and you get a sense there’ll be no complacency. We don’t feel like a team that does complacency. We’re the robust unit that lots of other clubs in this division aren’t, they trade off their great names and great histories, but they have a troubled soul. We probably shouldn’t forget that.
The season’s end is coming into view and it feels like after a brief wobble, we’re steadying the ship ready for the final charge. With fixtures starting to fall our way, we could build a head of steam that will take us into the play-off places leaving behind the more illustrious names the division has to offer. That is a memory that’ll be worth keeping.