The so-called magic of the FA Cup isn’t always evident. Losing 2-1 at Port Vale or Carlisle is not magic. Getting drawn away at Crawley does not suggest magic, but sometimes, magic is found in the oddest of places.
Often, FA Cup games are awful—crowds tend to be lower in the early rounds, and conditions in November and December always tend to be tough. Watching us lose against Morecambe and Hartlepool in recent seasons underlines that; miserable afternoons, miserable performances and miserable outcomes. Players are jaded, and there’s simply not enough magic or excitement to go around every tie. Then, there are days like yesterday.
We’ve had our fair share of rip-snorting cup ties, but they are not always the ones we come out on the right side of. Immediately, games against Mansfield in 1987, Hereford in 2010 and Whitehawk in 2015 come to mind. Games where all the usual rules go out of the window and for once, two teams just stand in the. middle of the park and knock seven shades of hell out of each other. It’s like this: most cup ties are like a heavyweight boxing match, over-hyped and under-delivering. Then, every so often, two fighters forget the convention and just keep punching each other until one falls over.
That was yesterday.
I found the afternoon very odd indeed. I didn’t travel to Crawley, and thanks to broadcasting rights, it meant it was the first time I hadn’t watched the action unfold since the opening day of the season when we were at a festival. Post-COVID, I’ve just come to expect to be able to watch every minute, be it on the ground or using a VPN. Having to rely on the audio alone feels really archaic now, and fearing I wouldn’t enjoy the game as much, a plan was hatched. Chris and I would stick it on in the bar and spend the afternoon playing pool and listening together.
13 minutes in, and we wished we hadn’t. I have watched highlights, and both goals were so poor from a defensive point of view. If we are to keep up the boxing analogy, we were on our arses facing a ten count before the first round had even concluded. Crawley, having stuck three past us earlier in the season, had home advantage, a two-goal lead and we sounded utterly ragged. History buffs may also have noted that Lincoln City had never come back from two goals down in an FA Cup tie to win 4-3, prior to yesterday. It felt like it might be a long afternoon.
If this was a league game, perhaps it would have felt different, but the FA Cup Gods were readying their little baggy of magic dust, and they sprinkled a little pinch across the turf in West Sussex. Either that, or if you’re not religious, Lincoln City showed some exceptional character and spirit to not only get the next goal but the next four.
While I won’t comment too much on a performance I didn’t see, that would be insulting to your intelligence, and to those who did make the trip down, I will happily explore what this means for the side. To go two goals down in 13 minutes, away from home on a miserable afternoon would be the end of most teams, but there is a real spirit in these players. Ethan Hamilton, who I thought looked back to his usual self against Wrexham in his cameo, sounded to be pulling the strings, and that delights me. I think due to his injury, his importance has been diminished in some people’s eyes, but before he was ruled out last season, he was arguably the pick of our midfielders. His performance yesterday is, hopefully, a precursor to a real ding-dong battle in the middle of the park with McGrandles for a starting place.
They say 2-0 is a dangerous scoreline, and it is even more so if you’ve got the ‘nil’. It’s obvious to say the next goal is crucial at that point, but the timing is crucial as well. That’s why, when O’Connor popped up with his header to get us back in the game, I immediately felt we’d win it. We’ve seen the issue with early goals before – Blackpool in the play-offs is a prime example. Sometimes, getting momentum in the first ten minutes can count against you, and when we do get into the swing of things, we’re a really dangerous attacking prospect. I think it’s ace in a week where people have debated whether our strikers are good enough or not, we go out and score four, have 24 shots and 14 on target. Here’s the thing – I can’t find a game in the last six years where we had that many shots on target – the closest was 13 against Shrewsbury in the EFL Trophy a couple of seasons ago. Even Liverpool didn’t have that many when they beat us 7-2 in the League Cup. It’s almost as if our team felt they had a collective point to prove in front of goal.
One person who has a point to prove, and sadly will still have in some people’s eyes, is Jovon Makama. He came under a lot of pressure in the week after his miss against Wrexham, but his goal was perhaps the most important of the game. A 2-1, we’re still losing, and if they get the third, our good work is undone. However, draw level before half time and it’s a completely different conversation.
There’s a lot to like about Makama’s goal. I like the fact that Darikwa tees it up, and I understand he’s been a bit of a mentor for Makama, so providing him with the goal was fitting. It’s also a really good header, lifting it up and over the keeper, who made a bad decision to come out. At that moment, in my eyes, the game was won. Psychologically, when you’ve been 2-0 up and it gets back to 2-2, you’re the ones likely to lose the game. We had momentum and, from that point on, belief. My friend Karl Mercer was at the game, and his comments this morning were that after their second, he said, ‘We’ll still win this’. Jovon felt that as well, rather than celebrating the goal that hopefully quietened his critics for a week or two, he grabbed the ball and returned to the centre spot. All business.
I’m not sure how it wasn’t 3-2 at half time. The only thing the game didn’t have was a Freddie Draper goal, but his header was saved, the first of a terrific double stop from the keeper which kept the score at 2-2. Both him and Darikwa will feel they should have been on the scoresheet, and if the keeper was a little at fault for Makama’s goal, he made up for it and then some with his stop.
Phew, half time couldn’t come quickly enough. Not least, because at that point Chris and I learned we didn’t have to drive to pick up our dinner, so we could crack open some beers.
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