You could say trailing 2-1 after that first half was fair, you’d probably be wrong. Their two chances were their only two shots at goal, but their xG (0.69) wasn’t that much better than ours (0.35). A draw might have been fair, but they edged it, and I suppose, given that they seemingly outsmarted us, or at least surprised us, we can settle for 2-1 being fair. Just.
The second half was completely different, and when the two merged to form a whole game, 2-2 flattered them. 2-2 flattered the team with twice the budget, twice as many empty seats and twice the expectation. In the second half, we battered them. 59% possession, more than any game since we lost 3-2 at Wycombe. We had nine shots, three on target, they didn’t test Wickens at all. We made more passes, had better accuracy, and our xG was 1.63 compared to their 0.23.
We battered them, and no mistake.
It shouldn’t have been 2-2, and that’s why I now bring another game into play. Luton, 2-2 at Kenilworth Road, was described by some as a bad point. That was also away from home, but Luton had a perfectly good goal ruled out, we rode our luck at times, they had more xG, more shots, and yet drawing that was somehow worse than drawing this. Alternate view of last night: we should have won. 2-2 flattered them, not us. I’m not criticising, by the way, we were really good, but for me, we deserved more from this than Luton away, and certainly Blackpool, another ‘bad’ point against a team with 3.55 xG and 17 shots to our 0.46 and seven.
Anyway, back to last night. We changed things at half-time, made some tweaks, and Huddersfield never got a look in. The long throws and corners caused panic, but if I am honest, I think we came on song when Reeco came on. He seemed to give us something more on the flank, and he immediately set about winning us corners, one that should have resulted in a penalty. I’ve watched it back, and Feeney handles, zero doubt. It’s not marginal, it’s not debatable, it’s a penalty. Sure, we’ve had some go for us and some against us, and as we got a point we can be relaxed about it, but quite how the assistant has missed it, on his side, I don’t know. Watching the replay, I was utterly gobsmacked he waved it away.
We kept on. Changes were made, Reach limping off, Elerewe being thrown on to do something, anything. We pressed and pushed, and got chances. Towler headed over when it looked likely he’d score. Hackett’s hoisted cross for Hamer was nodded across goal. Huddersfield creaked, but they didn’t give in. Then the fourth official holds up eight minutes of injury time, and the mood changed. It’s as if they knew. It’s as if we knew. It’s as if all of League One watching the scoreline knew.
Bolton have a reputation for their late goals, and fair play, but what of us? Stockport, home and away. Blackpool at home (just because we were already 1-0 up doesn’t mean a lot). We go to the whistle, and we’re dangerous when we need something. It’s our go-to set piece, a Tom Hamer long throw, and Towler stabs home. Delirium.
Inevitability.
What more is there to say? The numbers say we were worth a win. The eye test tells you we were the better team. I talk about faceless henchmen, and how the other 23 teams are not that, they’re all living, breathing adversaries with strengths and plans, but as that net bulged, and everyone went mental, it felt like the blue and white shirts were just another faceless henchman, a little tougher than the last, a little stronger, maybe played by an actor you recognise from another show, but it was the same outcome. The hero won.
The hero always wins, and in 2025/26, Lincoln City are the heroes. We’re the darlings of the press. We’re the lower-budget team showing the big spenders it can be done differently. We’re the team that looks after injured players, the team that keep their house in order, and we’re the team on the ridiculous, once-in-a-lifetime run, heading to heights the likes of which we haven’t known in a generation. Blue and white, green, yellow, black or gold, it doesn’t matter what colour you play in. We’re the focus. We’re the story. You just exist in our world right now.
That’s how it feels. Watching them slump onto the turf, they could have been Cardiff, Stockport or Bolton. It doesn’t matter; they’re the footnote in our story this season. So often, we play that role as Wrexham go up, or as Oxford make the Championship, but this feels like our year. I almost felt no animosity to Huddersfield, an arch-enemy of sorts, because deep down, they didn’t matter. The point mattered. Results elsewhere mattered. What we did mattered.
I’m getting carried away, so I shall step away from the keyboard and let you get on with your day. A day, I wager, is filled with the tune ‘allez, allez, allez’, or you messaging your mates in group chats with things like ‘imagine not liking football’ or ‘what are the trains like to Wolverhampton’.
Enjoy it. You deserve that. We deserve that. Most of all, Lincoln City and Michael Skubala deserve it. We can enjoy it, but they have to focus on this Saturday and next Saturday. Beyond that, their focus might be entirely on one thing.
Top spot in League One.
Up the Imps.
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