Magic, But Luckily Not That Magic: Chesham United 0-4 Imps

November 5, 2024 Gary FA Cup, Lincoln City, Matches, Reports 0

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Aah, the magic of the FA Cup. Friendly locals, a ground that feels like it has fallen together, rather than being actually built.

The unknown, plucky underdogs, cold evenings, TV cameras cramped into places they’re never usually placed, recording a moment in history that a town will likely not forget. Multipack crisps being knocked out as refreshments, friendly faces and low-lying floodlights. That’s the magic of the FA Cup, usually with a bit of a shock thrown in. Luckily, there was no shock yesterday; we just got all the good bits. We enjoyed the taste of the banana but made sure that slippery little skin was in the bin long before it became a problem. Lovely stuff.

I say ‘lucky’, but lucky didn’t come into it. A strong Lincoln City side did exactly what was needed. We soaked up that early home pressure, withstood the atmosphere that is so uniquely produced by a local club seeing four times its usual attendance cram into the ground, and finally produced some moments of quality to make sure the second-round draw had our name in it, if indeed it hadn’t already been made and given us another trip to bloody Crawley. Oh, the magic.

It is nice going into a town where your team feels like an illustrious visitor. In the pub for a bit of dinner pre-match, every local was talking about it, from a confused old boy sitting at the bar wondering why his usual quiet Monday pint was being disrupted to a random couple sharing a bottle of wine debating what it meant for the town. That’s the magic of the FA Cup, when a competition touches a town and affects people who, usually, don’t even care there’s a club down the road.

The ground felt like a throwback to the pre-Cowley era, the sort of weird and wonderful place we visited on occasion between 2011 and 2017. It had all the ingredients of an upset – fans who could swap ends at half time, souvenir programmes selling like hot cakes, huge terraced steps that posed a fall risk to anyone under 5ft, and lots of opportunity. We were accosted on the way into the ground and asked if we were Chesham or Lincoln. We caused huge disappointment when we said Lincoln, as it was the local gym, eager to capture the new faces walking to their local ground to see the big boys in action.

Okay, Lincoln City being ‘big boys’ is quite amusing but also a fact. I still find it odd we’re visiting places like Chesham for nostalgia and as the big attraction. Us. Lincoln City. A big attraction. There’s magic in that as well. This draw had it all, not for us, but for Chesham We got stood in front of a group of Watford fans at the ground for the first time, and that is what this means to them. They’ve got a local cup tie coming up, and I heard some fans saying ‘we might go to that’. That’s what they wanted out of this.

That, and a goal, and for the first 25 minutes, they looked likely to get the latter. Powered by the emotion and occasion, they got into us and made it difficult. We couldn’t get any possession in their half, and a couple of wild strikes were about as close as either team got until a Nathan Minhas header. Right in front of the vocal home support, his header was clawed away by George Wickens. It had shades of Roy Essandoh, but without the goal, and it was their moment.

It wouldn’t be the FA Cup without a couple of non-footballing talking points: enter a couple of flares, plus two idiot kids on the pitch, which gave us that cup-tie feel. One flare, sure, okay. Two? That was a bit silly, not least because it came on as we were on the attack, and if they’d got a quick break, the game would have to be stopped. The second acted a bit like a forcefield for us for a moment, the first time I felt truly comfortable in the evening.

The issue for me wasn’t that we were bad, or that they were really good, but the unpredictable nature of everything. It felt like we were the only Lincoln fans in our little section: Chris, Dave, and Patreon Dave. It felt like one slip would turn this into Chippenham, or the plucky fighters could make it like Emley almost three decades ago. That had me really worried, until the forcefield of a flare turned into the magic of pure flair.

One moment of quality. That’s what turns these games. Without being condescending, Lincoln City are a better than Chesham; we pay a lot of money for players, we train, we’re full-time, it’s expected. On any given day, any team can beat another not through ability alone but by fighting, showing grit, and persistence, and Chesham did those things. However, if the bigger team can show that one moment of quality, that little bit of flair that money can buy, that’s what changes the game.

Enter Super Jack Moylan. After we’d begun to show a bit more control, it was Moylan who turned up to the party, twisting one way, then the other (left and right, making Lionel Messi look shite, apparently), before curling a wonderful shot into the net from a tight angle. Cue jubilation, but not around us – it turns out we were the only Lincoln fans in our little section. Still, there was no aggression, just a few little grumbles aimed in other directions.

That saw out the first half. It hadn’t been easy – Freddie had been battered about, done some battering, but not had much luck. Jovon had, again, been strong without too much joy. Reeco struggled a bit, and got a real barracking from some home fans around us, which was obviously audible to him. I felt a bit sorry for Reeco, he worked tirelessly but it didn’t quite work for him in the first 35 minutes or so. Paudie, laid up with illness this week, was outstanding, and for many, he got overall Man of the Match, but I thought that accolade should have been put on Sean Roughan, first half and second. He was, again, outstanding.

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