Shropshire Revolution

P-Bo

Shrewsbury 0 Wycombe Wanderers 1

"Groundticking"

There, I said it. It’s one of the most shameful instincts known to football fandom, the beautiful game’s equivalent of stamp-collecting, with all the aura of cool that that implies. Especially in these Franchise-infested days when no self-respecting soul could ever complete the 92 without finding the mark of Cain firmly branded on them for all eternity.

Nonetheless, when a trip to ‘The New Stadium’ came up (top marks to the naming committee, hoping for a sponsor to rename it to something even less snappy are we?), I have to admit that a feeble urge for the novelty of an unseen ground possessed me. Just as well really, given the train connection labyrinth that it took to get there.

So – first impressions of the Gay Meadow's successor from the outside?

All very clean and tidy, thanks very much – it’s plonked carelessly in the middle of nowhere as is the trend these days, but hey, at least it hasn’t got a Frankie and fucking Benny’s outside to make you scream out in franchise (small ‘f’) hell – you’d do well to cower in shame at this point, Sixfields and the Liberty Stadium.

Inside? Uh-oh. Bleak, windswept cornerless job that essentially resembles a four-sided version of the Kassam, home of non-league giants Oxford United. Not good. I know you can’t build character into a new stadium, the team has to grow into it (man), but the place just seems too uniform - 4 Lego stands chucked round a pitch, rather than an actual stadium. Oh for a slightly wonky stand or a hint of corrugated iron.

Shrewsbury is never a fixture that inspires excitement in me – to me it’s just another team of journeymen that kind of turn up in front of us and kick a ball for 90 minutes twice a season - I’m sure they say much the same about us. You have Gary Peters with his vaguely bouffant but mostly sensible hair, serving up some pretty direct football, it’ll generally be a midfield scrapathon, and a dour, low-scoring affair.

And so it proved. A pretty soft John Sutton goal went in early on, seeming to take an age to get into the net, but it did, and we were pleased. Had anyone roaring, ‘There’s only one Johnny Sutton’ been slagging the very same off only weeks before? I wonder.

The wind was playing random frisky havoc with any long aerial ball. Interesting to note the presence of long aerial ball specialist Stefan Oakes in the side, then, who had his key special power pretty much neutralised by the weather. To be fair, yer man was going into the tackles with far more gumption than usual – indeed, enough to get a booking early on. Oakes was replaced later in the game by Gary Holt, a good decision from the oft-maligned Lambert when we needed to concentrate on breaking up the endless waves of Shrewsbury attacks that were thrown at us in the second half.

Both sides were throwing in some, erm, spirited tackles, with the ref striking an odd balance between over-reaction and completely ignoring events. Equally peculiar was the self-same ref’s ability to completely overlook the point where a Shrewsbury player decided he’d had enough of this goddamn soccer shit, and wanted to try out for the Harlem Globetrotters instead, patting the ball to the floor with the flat of his hand.

As ever, the South American heroics of the Serg brought vein-popping fury to the ranks of the opposition, players and fans alike. You know the story: our Argentinean hero gets tag-teamed and booted time after time once they decide he’s a bit too flash for his own good – then they whinge when he wins free kicks. Makes it all the sweeter, trust me.

The Doc continued his majestic re-integration into the side, with some great vision and superbly sly off-the-ball fouls – watch him carefully next time if you don’t believe me. Best gamesmanship since the glory days of Goooooos Uhlenbeek.

We really rode our good fortune for most of the second half, although every kiss from Lady Luck’s sweet lips was repaid with some heroic blood-and-guts defending – a particular big-up to Funtime Frankie Fielding in goal, putting in a sterling performance.

I was surprised when we’d managed three wins on the bounce around Winterval, but four? Jaysus. The stuff of which dreams are made.

Plenty of time yet for the signature second act slump to kick in, of course, but things actually look to be gelling pretty well on the pitch. Bah humbug, nothing to whinge about…what’s up with that?

30.12.2007. 14:47

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