I’m reading Andre Agassi’s autobiography at the moment. It’s quite a shocking read; from the first page Agassi is unequivocal about how much he hates tennis. It’s not just that after a long and successful career he’s done with the pressure and injuries, he’s hated it since the first time he picked up a racket.
His father decided that he wanted his children to be professional tennis players and set up a tennis court in his back garden. He re-engineered a serving machine to fire balls more quickly and at a difficult angle for Agassi to return. As a young boy, he was hitting a million balls a year and hated every single one of them.
It also made him very good, of course, and it’s clear that as he got older he had the beating of anyone he played. Even if he went a set down, he knew when he would win barring injury or something freakish happening, because he had absolute control over his ability.
The book illustrates the divide between how sport is portrayed as a mythical endeavour full of talent and passion, and the technical aspect which really determines whether you’re good or not. Agassi was never that interested in the mythical aspects – he never dreamed of winning Wimbledon, it didn’t drive his desire to improve; that came from his over-bearing father.
As fans, we buy into sport for its drama and passion – the romance – even though it’s technique that determines how that manifests itself. It’s like watching a film or a play, you become absorbed in the story, but you wouldn’t be able to do that unless the actors knew where to stand and what to say when.
There was a familiar vibe during the win over Morecambe yesterday; a warm appreciative atmosphere and a fluid and attacking display. There’s been a lot of talk about the atmosphere this season and how it lacks a certain passion. But, I think what we’re seeing is the team and fans in absolute equilibrium. It’s not arrogance, but the team know what they need to do to beat a team like Morecambe and we, the fans, have absolute confidence they’ll do it.
It’s not always been like this; in fact, it’s rarely like this. During the promotion season in 2016, there was an asymmetry between what was happening at the club and what was happening in the stands. We were almost shocked to see an Oxford team playing with such style and panache. I remember after the win over Swansea, feeling immense pride at how grown up we seemed to be, how un-Oxford.
Most of the time, it’s been the other way around; we sing that ‘we’re by far the greatest team the world has ever seen’ while being taken to the cleaners by Rochdale or Scunthorpe. The asymmetric relationship between what we think we are and what we actually are creates the tension that creates the atmosphere – which could be misery and frustration or elated shock and relief.
If you watch the very best teams playing at home, the fans trust the players to do their job and the players trust their ability to deliver. If it goes wrong, that trust extends to allowing the team to fix the problem. Yesterday, we got a bit sleepy in the second half, Alex Gorrin’s ability to break play up wasn’t needed as much as someone to control the midfield and create some forward momentum. We missed the penalty and then conceded, but Marcus McGuane came on and we regained control of midfield and got back on the front foot to complete the job. Nobody was screaming at Karl Robinson to ‘sort it out’ or for the team to ‘wake up’; we kind of knew he would.
Afterwards Robinson spoke about preparations for the January transfer window and how he wasn’t particularly looking for another striker because it’s unusual for mid-season signings to score lots of goals. There’s usually a call from fans for multiple signings, usually including a striker, and Robinson himself has been prone to having an unreasonably long wish list. It’s borne out of an anxiety that the squad won’t be able to cope, it takes confidence to say that he’s largely content with what he has.
How long we can maintain this blissful equilibrium is, of course, another question, but it’s not a flash in the pan – Robinson looks visibly healthier than he did when he started at the club, the ground and pitch looks smarter, even if it is a bit of a ‘lipstick on a pig’, the squad looks deep and lush. If Brannagan isn’t available, Gorrin can come in, if that isn’t working, McGuane is available – we’re not robbing Peter to pay Paul when we make adjustments to the side.
We could, of course, slip into becoming arrogant and entitled, forgetting the technical application or getting frustrated when teams don’t comply with what we want. It’s something you see at Manchester United at the moment where there’s an expectation that they’ll compete at the highest level because, well, they’re Manchester United.
They say it’s harder to regain a title than win one, but in the lower leagues it’s even hard to maintain stability for a whole season. Teams capitulate quickly with a couple of bad results, fans aren’t used to the feeling of success or how to regulate their expectations. We’re like a lottery millionaire unable to handle their new-found riches, quickly squandering what we have.
This is particularly hard for us, a club which has had instability built into it for years, one that hasn’t seen a season-long period of superiority over a division for thirty-six years. We’re not yet title contenders, but we could be starting to readjust our expectations given the start to the season we’ve had. The trick is to not chase too hard, not adjust our expectations too much, to chug away picking up points and not getting too carried away with where it’s taking us.
The clocks have gone back, the nights are drawing in, the weather is getting worse, Christmas and the January transfer window is looming and the FA Cup starts next week to disrupt the fixture flow. Mission accomplished for the opening period of the season but this is where the real test begins.