In the latest of his regular columns Hillary Street-Ender takes a look back at the Saddlers' last two league games before looking forward to next week's Johnstone's Paint Trophy Northern Area Final - Second Leg clash with Preston North End.
So, the pre-amble is out of the way and there are
no more of those pesky league games to get in the way as we head into the
second leg of our Paint Pot area final. Which is probably a very good thing for
those who may have been looking for good omens in the Scunthorpe and Colchester
games. The margin of defeat against The Iron flattered our visitors somewhat,
the game hinging as it did on the own goal and the debatable penalty. Sitting
in the Upper Gilbert I had a very good view of Jimmy Chambo’s oggy, the ball
across the box being placed so as to force him into dealing with it. Had he
left it he may have given their bloke a tap-in, with there evidently being no
shout of ‘keeper’s ball’, so he tried to clear and ended up shinning one in to
this own net. We often concede at the end of our opponent’s first attack, it’s
certainly nothing new, but we usually insist on them knocking the ball in for
themselves. The club is known throughout football for its’ high standards of
hospitality but I felt we took it a tad too far on this occasion. Nice thought,
James, but don’t bother next time. With the penalty incident happening at the
other end it was difficult to make out what happened from my vantage point but
it seemed that the Scunny bloke waited for an outstretched leg to go over and
then collapsed in a heap. Nice moment for the referee, though, who’d had to
over-rule his own awarding of a spot-kick minutes earlier due to his assistant
spotting an infringement. Another home defeat, another heavy one and our third
on the bounce.
After a defeat like that the prospect of a trip to
deepest Essex to take on Colchester wasn’t exactly a tempting one but we’ve
done really well away from home of late so the arse-numbing
one-hundred-and-sixty-odd mile journey was made to a pretty sterile stadium to
see a game between two teams desperate for the points. The home side were
looking to climb out of the bottom four and we needed a win to avoid getting
sucked toward the trap door, especially when considering that we have a free
Saturday coming up. After making one of our longest jaunts of the season it was
more than a bit irritating to have to stare into the blinding winter sun for
the entire first half and it seemed in the early moments that coming at us out
of the sun, kamikaze pilot style, might pay off for United but once the fifteen
minute mark had gone we began to get something of a grip and began to cause a
few problems. Luckily I had my hand to my eyes at just the moment of our first
goal, being convinced as I had been that I’d be sure to miss something of note
whenever I changed arm. For once we made the most of a piece of slack defending
as the home defence gave Cook far too much time to chip in a delicate cross
that the unmarked Forde headed home from the six yard line. The first half had
been pretty dull up to that point but that was forgotten in the joy of the
moment and we began to sense that another decent away result might just be
coming our way. Opponents now seem determined to mark Bradders out of games so
the forging of chances for other players is good to see and is something we’ll
have to become even better at if the bulk of the goalscoring burden isn’t
always to be borne by one player. Young Tom, however, has more than one string
to his bow and the second half saw him lay on the points-clinching second goal
for Cainy after tricking his way in from the wing past one defender and then
taking the second one out of the equation by crossing low before the lad had
time to try to stop him. The perfectly-weighted ball was swept home confidently
by the Leicester loanee and the spoils were ours, the referee deserving a
mention for allowing play to go on as the ball headed for Bradshaw after a foul
just outside our area.
A disappointing home result being followed by a
very good one on our travels is becoming something of a pattern of late but
this needs to stop when you-know-who visit us as we attempt to reach
you-know-where. For a week and a half there is nothing for the lads to
concentrate on other than knocking over the Lillywhites so’s we can finally see
our players run out beneath the steel arch to end our hoodoo and have a crack
at bringing the cup back to Worsull. My maternal Grandad once told me he’d been
at the Arsenal game in ’33 and he and my dad often saw Bill Moore’s side of the
late ‘50s and early ’60s play so they were both there at some of the very few
iconic moments in our post-amalgamation history but neither of them ever got
within sniffing distance of Wembley. Us modern day Saddlers now stand at that
threshold, just a step away but what a colossal step it feels. Getting there
would mean the world to us but the ninety minutes to come against Preston could
be ninety of the longest ones of our life……….and the prospect of it all being
decided by penalties just doesn’t bear contemplating. Maybe the lads will
surprise us and make it all look easy. Somehow I don’t think anyone’s expecting
that.