Winter Warmer: Imps 3-1 Morecambe

The problem I have is I cannot seen the rational through the haze of fear at a game. At 3-0 up I’m thinking ‘If they get two then they’re back in the game, nerves will get shattered. The conditions are going to play a part..’ it all goes around in my head until I’m convinced as opposed to be 3-0 up, we’re on the back foot.

It wasn’t helped by going down to the Stacey West at half time for a smoke. In the relative comfort of Upper 3 I was dry, if not even remotely warm. However, once we ventured into the elements I realised what a lottery the second half was going to be. I feel for you poor sods who sit anywhere in the first ten rows of the lower tier. It wasn’t just bad weather, it was grotesque. 

I thought the second half was odd, it felt from kick off as though both teams just wanted it to be done. The atmosphere was dulled purely through the cold, the Block 7 boys were in good voice, but it rarely spread across the ground. When a chant did reach us it was lost quickly as people chose to expend their energy on shiver and huddling together, rather than signing. It wasn’t hard to spot those with their beer coats on.

When Eardley got a knock and went off, everything changed for us. James Wilson is a centre back, he’d tell you he’s a centre back and although he does a decent job when he comes on, we lose our shape. The pace slowed, at times we were walking with the ball at our feet, the Morecambe lads sitting back not wanting to concede more. If we’d asked everyone in the stadium, fans, players and staff, I reckon almost everyone would have happily ended the game at 4.10pm and gone home to get the heating on.

Grant Smith would certainly have wanted the day over, he fumbled Jordan Cranston’s weak free kick and let them score what I thought was a perfectly good goal, only for Seb to rule it out. I’m giving the keeper the benefit of the doubt, swirling winds and heavy rain must have made holding things a nightmare. Their keeper barely held a thing all game, our shots went wide, over or in, but Grant had similar struggles. He made up for it with a good save from Vadaine Oliver though, a player enduring another miserable return to his former club.

It’s hard to write too much about a half of football everyone wanted over. Harry Anderson had a good header flash just over, Morecambe probably shaded the chances but didn’t offer anything serious to threaten us. Their goal was a bad one to concede, a ball angled across the box found the one man who was almost guaranteed to score, Kevin Ellison.

A word on Kevin, the figure we all love to hate. He’s like our Rheady, a wind up merchant of the highest order. These days he does it with a wry smile on his face and I for one love to see it, especially now he’s not quite as effective as he once was. Any young kids out there wanting a role model, in terms of fitness and approach, ought to look at him. The day he made his debut for Altrincham, Ronan Keating was at number one with ‘You Say Nothing At All’. Lou Bega hadn’t even charted as yet with Mambo Number 5. Basically, Ellison is old and a credit to the profession, even if we do love to boo the bald-headed bugger.

Seb was enjoying himself, he found five minutes of extra time from somewhere, but by the time Matt Green was (rather suspiciously) throwing his shirt into the crowd, half of the 8,000 (ish) crowd were already listening to Thommo and Michael in the car. People had been streaming out from about 80 minutes onwards and I couldn’t fault them. It wasn’t an afternoon to stay put, I’m not even sure Danny would begrudge people getting off early on such a horrible afternoon, not when everything we needed to do had been done by 40 minutes. That game was the equivalent of doing all your Christmas shopping in the first week of December, but still being dragged round the bloody shops in the last week because it’s Christmas.

There were plenty of stand out performers. Jason Shackell got the vote on the club’s Twitter and I can see why, him and Bozzy were brilliant again, but the former Derby man did score that unreal free kick. I personally thought Harry Anderson was excellent, he tired a little late on but never once gave up the chase and frightened the hell out of their left back. Had Bruno been playing we’d be lauding him too, Morecambe are not a side who defend well and we exposed that time and again in the first half.

I thought both Freck and Michael O’Connor were excellent too, always willing runners and driving us on where they could. McCartan had a quiet game on the ball, but was fouled for the free kick and the penalty so was clearly doing something right. The ball didn’t run for John Akinde in the second half, but I thought aside from the chance he created and then wasted he had a good game. It’s funny because when he tricked past those two defenders and then missed the chance, one bloke above me was saying he was shit for missing the chance, but to my left they were praising his hard work to create the opportunity. Glass half full, glass half empty and all that.

After getting home and warming up (by about 10pm) I decided not to write until this morning for a reason I’m not going to explain anymore. When I got up this morning I’d seemingly suffered from being out in the cold and felt like I’d been caught in a challenge between Ellison and Akinde, which is why my match report is being brought to you in the middle of Sunday afternoon. Apologies to the boys of Stacey West FC too, I was due to go see them in action this morning, but as a snivelling mess I ended up staying under the duvet. I feel marginally better now (thanks for asking).

As I did, I wasn’t thinking of the FA Cup third round, I wasn’t even thinking about being clear at the top once more with a better goal difference. No, I was thinking about the 35-year old centre half who scored one of the most powerful free kicks I’ve ever seen with my own eyes, wondering how the hell we ever convinced him to drop into League Two to play for Lincoln City. The next time you’re doubting our club, if indeed you do, ponder that yourself. If a man earning (at a guess) well over £20k a week last season can be convinced to drop into the basement division for 10% of that, a man with nothing but Championship and top flight experience, a man who organises a defence like a general and pulls free kicks out of his locker like Ronaldo, surely we’re doing something right off the pitch.