I’m not sure we’ve won an away game from a losing position at half time since Cambridge in 2018 (I might be wrong), and again I just felt it might be a bridge too far. Still, a draw would be a great result from a trip to Plymouth, especially as we’ve only drawn there once this century. I looked that up at half time, the optimistic Dr Jekyll in me trying to eradicate the pessimistic Mr Hyde. Six minutes into the second half, Dr Jeykll was given a helping hand by Mr Marquis.
It was a goal made by Scully, producing some great work on the flank to tee up Marquis, who did exactly what he does best; finish a striker’s goal. It was the type of goal many moan we don’t score enough of, one that had to be finely crafted, but that needed a poacher, a proper striker, to finish. Credit to Marquis, he’s not played much football in the last four months or so, but he took the goal with the confidence of a man who has 20 in the locker already. I predict it won’t be his last for Lincoln, not by a long shot.
The goal came in amidst a spell of City play, a dominance that set us up nicely for the half. After it, we oozed confidence, and the home side looked rattled. Morgan Whittaker had a good effort saved, whilst Pilgrims’ defenders blocked chances for Scully and Marquis. Plymouth did get forward, but there wasn’t the intensity, and dare I say evident desire. I’m not saying they didn’t want it, but they suddenly lacked confidence themselves. When they had a corner or chance, it was easily dealt with. When we went forward, they struggled to contain us.
That changed just after the hour mark, when former Imp James Wilson, a behemoth at the back for them, put in a goal-saving tackle on John Marquis. That was almost the moment that stopped our ascendancy, a block on our attacking intent that stopped a decent chance in the short term, but seemed to knock us for six in the longer term. Slowly, but surely, they started getting a foothold in the game, and perhaps the nerves began to settle in for the Imps. there was the odd loose pass, Fiorini and McGrandles both guilty (despite both having solid games). If I’m honest, it was just like last weekend, where we’d huffed and puffed, we’d not blown the house down, and suddenly the three little pigs were at the windows ready to fire off a few attacks of their own.
It was a challenging time, 25 minutes or so of real danger, but a period we managed well. Melbourne certainly got into the game in the second half, with Poole solid as a rock next to him. Sam Long had plenty to do, it wasn’t a debut in which he could watch on from afar as we attacked with ease; he had saves to make, decisions that needed a split-second judgement and he got everything right. The biggest compliment I think you can give a 19-year-old on his Football League debut is that it didn’t look like his debut. after the game, Michael Appleton hinted that Sam will be our number one, maybe next season, maybe the year after; it’s easy to see why, such was the maturity in his performance.
As the minutes wound down, I did what I never, ever do. I checked the in-play table. I’ve stopped worrying too much about Gillingham, Doncaster and Crewe, but seeing Morecambe winning, amongst other results, meant a draw might have been a good result, but it made the league table look more serious than it needed to. I got sucked in, I never worry about those things usually, but for some reason I did and it made me worse. If we could hold on, if we could get a point it would be decent, but if we conceded… it didn’t bear thinking about. As the board went up, the home side applied the pressure, and only a block from Melbourne denied Conor Grant, before Ryan Broom fired wildly over. His effort reminded me a lot of Max Power’s effort for Sunderland against us in the play-offs; when they needed composure to affect a moment, they got a rush of blood.
Surely, that was it? After the late, late goals of the last few weeks, I just wanted us to get forward and keep the ball. Instead, we finally got a taste of the sweet liquor we’ve been feeding other teams; we got the late goal. It came from a corner that Marquis won after a shot was deflected, and just those first words, it came from a corner’ seem almost incredulous. We don’t score from corners, do we? Well, we do now. The saying is ‘cometh the hour, cometh the man’, but as Max Melbourne sat in the stands at Stevenage a few weeks ago, I doubt he felt he was the man that would arrive at the back stick to get us all three points. I think if you looked down our starting eleven and picked ten players to arrive there, as he did, and win the game in the final minute, some people might even have picked Sam Long over Max. It was a great moment for a player likely to leave at the end of the season, who has twice been loaned out with no route back, who is still turning up and putting in performances. I’ll tell you this; if and when he does move at the end of the season, no club will ever have a problem finding out about his attitude, because he’s been exemplary.
There was still time for drama, Plymouth went up and immediately won a corner. I couldn’t help but think of us getting the late goal against them at our place earlier in the season, nor the 2-2 draw at Cheltenham that we should have won. However, I think we showed a bit of nous in those moments, firstly with the mini-melee that took a bit of sting out of the moment, and latterly through morgan Whittaker, who rang the length of the pitch after 94 minutes, looking fresh as a daisy, to keep possession and stop the Plymouth response from happening. Moments later, Neil Hair blew on his whistle and that was that; from Pass the Dutchie to We Don’t Talk About Bruno, from E.T to Spider-Man: No Way Home. Almost 40 years, finally put to bed.
It’s not about that though, is it? Those sorts of soundbites are good for the radio, great for my articles, but the result is all about this season, that’s the context, the purpose and the relevancy. This was three points that ensured we climbed to 16th, that despite not putting more daylight between us and the bottom four, made sure we stayed at arm’s length. We’re still looking up, counting the game in hand, and thinking that we reached our nadir away at Crewe, and everything from here on in is positive. We’re scoring goals, and not just that, we look like scoring many more. Sure, we’re conceding, but even with four centre backs out injured, we’ve got a fight and determination at the back which maybe wasn’t as evident as recently as Boxing Day. In terms of injuries, we’re still scraping the bottom, still struggling, but an upbeat Michael Appleton spoke of senior players nearing fitness; that means Joe Walsh and Adam Jackson. When they are fit, one of them has a real fight on their hands by the way, because Regan Poole has been utterly brilliant. Still, that’s the sort of problem Michael wants.
This squad, with the great additions of the last 22 days, is looking very talented indeed, and hearing John Marquis on the radio hinting at ‘it’s only six months for now’, is a real bonus as well. He could be the next Lincoln City striker hero, maybe even emulating some of the famous names plying their trade the last time we won at Home Park. His previous record suggests he can do it, his outing today points to him being a great fit for us. Mind you, Tyreece John-Jules scored on his Imps’ debut, so I’m not getting carried away.
As for me, I’m heading to the Bluebell at Belchford tonight for a meal with my better half, and my good friends Roy and Anne, aka Cambridge Imp. I know, had we lost, the mood would have been downbeat, but I swear to God, a £20 steak taste much better when you’ve won a game of football. Especially when instead of peppercorn sauce, the garnish is a last-minute winner. Wheverer you are; on the M5, in your local, out on the town, you know what I mean. Everything is better after a City win and after today’s performance, I believe it’s something we might see plenty more of over the coming weeks.
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