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I should set up a template Word document for blogs about 4-0 wins, shouldn't I? We're making a habit of it. And it is wonderful.
I should be writing about another great win at Spotland and how we took over their town again last Saturday. It was always going to be a big ask to get the game on, with overnight temperatures being below freezing all week, but we were assured that the covers were on, and Rochdale said at 5pm on Friday that the surface was playable. By 11am on Saturday, with the pitch having been covered all week, and with there having been no rain all week until Saturday morning (in a part of the world where it rains all the time), the pitch was waterlogged, and the match called off. With Rochdale missing their top scorer and first choice goalkeeper. I call shenanigans.
OK, fair enough, there was a storm on Saturday and by all accounts the ball genuinely wasn’t moving across the grass. Football fans really are expected to put up with being pissed about though, aren’t we? Move the game to an early KO that no-one wants then call it off at an hour and a half’s notice? At least ours was a local game (although not everyone lives locally - hope the kids enjoyed visiting the East Lancashire Railway instead, Andy). The Portsmouth fans, whose game at Blackburn was called off at 11am, weren’t as lucky. And I know we’ve been guilty of it in the past as well. It’s shitty.
There was never any danger of our match vs Boston being called off, because we’re a massive club and Boundary Park is the Wembley of the North. It was absolutely Baltic, mind. Darren, get the mulled wine in. Tis the season. The freezing cold season.
Fair play to Boston’s support, I was expecting Oxford City-style numbers, given how long a journey it was on a Tuesday night. When I saw half a dozen coppers heading into the Chaddy, I was drafting the letter of complaint in my head about how allocating Boston’s fans a police officer each was not a good use of my council tax, but they actually brought 194. I wasn’t expecting anywhere near triple figures, that was genuinely impressive. All the more so because, bless ‘em, it was always likely to be an unrewarding trip for them.
Straight from kick off, it looked like sixth formers vs first years. I swear some of Boston’s players were the same height as me (and probably 3 stone lighter). 8 minutes in, it was clear that this wasn’t a fair fight. Ogle made the most of the freedom he has to get forward, making a great run down the right and cutting inside. His first ball into the box was blocked by a Boston player but – and this was to become a recurring theme throughout the game – came straight back to him, and he threaded the ball through to Norwood. He couldn’t quite control it, but it fell to Lundstram, who buried it. And Kitching was, of course, the first player to congratulate him.
📸 Thomas Lee Stacey
Lundstram then let Norwood have a go by playing a brilliant ball over the top for him to run on to, and he finished clinically. Honestly, I just felt sorry for Boston. They shouldn’t be having to attempt to mark players of this quality. It just isn’t fair.
We created a load of chances playing long balls (which isn’t surprising when you’re playing Lilliput FC). Kitching was unlucky to not get on the scoresheet when another long range pass (I didn’t see who from) found Stones, who quite frankly bullied their defence all night. He passed it to Kitching, whose shot went agonisingly wide.
The atmosphere went strangely flat either side of half time – it felt like the team were getting a tiny bit complacent, and the crowd were (justifiably) disappointed that we weren’t 4-0 up already. Boston’s blushes were spared when Hazel hit the post with an open goal in front of him after a shot from outside the box took a deflection, but the lino flagged for offside.
An hour or so in, things were starting to look a bit stale and tired, and we clearly needed to bring on some subs to freshen things up. Thankfully, Stones stayed on the pitch just long enough to get on the scoresheet. Yet another great long ball forward – this time from Monthe – caught out the Boston defence, and their last man, not unreasonably, thought his best chance of stopping Stones was to fall over and try to win a free kick. It didn’t work, and young Joshua being left one-on-one with the keeper was only ever going to end one way.
📸 Oldham Athletic
At this point, the last thing Boston would have wanted to see was God’s number 9 coming on, along with Kay and Drummond. It didn’t take long for the change to make an impact. Drummond, as nippy as ever, made a great run down the left and squared it to Fondop, who was brought down in the box. No, he did not dive. How dare you. That is not what Jesus would have done.
There was a slightly unseemly debate between Fondop and Gardner about who was going to take the penalty, which would have been embarrassing if we’d failed to score. Thankfully Mikey smashed it straight down the middle. Well done, but you still need to say ten Hail Marys for arguing and not following your captain’s instructions.
📸 Oldham Athletic
Another 4-0 win at home. That’s just what Oldham do. And I’ll even let the Athleticos off for ‘singing the blues’ when City were 3-0 up in the Champions League, because a) the 0-4 defeat at home to Spurs was heavy enough for us to still be celebrating it three days later and b) City somehow managed to fuck that up. Because that, apparently, is just what City do now.
A fantastic night, rounded off by meeting a representative of the France OAFC Supporters Group in the bar afterwards. Lovely seeing you, Robin. I’m a bit gutted I’m not going to their Christmas catch up in December, watching the Wealdstone match on TV in France, drinking French wine, sounds well better than going to the actual game.
It was clear from the post-match interviews that the squad are absolutely buzzing at the moment. Stones said that “the confidence around the place is mega” and confirmed that James Norwood is “probably the favourite player I’ve played with to be fair”. It shows. We love to see it.
Both him and Lundstram talked about how we could have played better, which is very nice to hear after we’ve just played a team off the park and won 4-0. Lundstram is clearly revelling in having the freedom to get forward and play a more attacking role, and he’s enjoying how much better the team is this season as much as we are: “Maybe when we’re not on our best, the fans are pulling us through this season”. You keep doing your bit, son, and we’ll keep doing ours.
Back to back 4-0 wins at home, and Man City continuing to implode. The sensible response to that was to have a couple of glasses of red wine and go home and blast out More Than A Feeling. (Apologies to the neighbours.) The insensible response was to have a couple of bottles of red wine then rant about OASF on Twitter at gone midnight. Don’t be like Barry. Choose love. Share the love and donate to OASF’s fundraiser to buy half-season tickets for people who can’t afford them. Things are on the up. Let’s invite as many people as we can to the party.
We've got a break from league action today, with a trip to Leyton Orient in the FA Cup. It's a free hit, isn't it? Either we lose, and we shrug our shoulders and say that we can concentrate on promotion now; or we beat another team from a higher division and make it through to the third round, where we could get a big money-spinning glamour tie.
Either way, it's going to be a cracking day out. Orient were great allies to us during the dark days, having been there themselves, and Brisbane Road is always a good place to visit. We're making a weekend of it, having been granted the honour of being hosted by El Presidente of OASIS. I'm writing this on the train on the way down, so between Wix's shitty app and Avanti's non- existent Wi-Fi, it'll be a fucking miracle if you get to read this.
Safe journey and have a great day if you're going to the game today. Remember, the FA Cup is just a lovely bonus. The real prize is getting back where we belong. And, whisper it, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas for this team. KTMFF.
📸 Oldham Athletic
Written by Arlene Finnigan
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