The wrap - Oxford United 0 Forest Green Rovers 0, Oxford United 1 Gillingham 0

I used to have a Commodore 64 and the game Rambo II First Blood. The gameplay was even more primitive than the plot of the film it was based on. Essentially, a notably blocky and top heavy eight-bit Rambo runs headlong into a hail of bullets surviving as long as he can before getting shot to shit. I wasn't very good at it and barely lasted more than a minute. I wasn't alone; there's a 10 minute clip on YouTube of which 6 and a half are the load screen and credits. The gameplay is a mere side issue. 

The tactics on Saturday reminded me of that game; give the ball to Ricky Holmes or Marcus Browne and let them run headlong at the defence in the hope of affecting some kind of breakthrough. Pretty much every raid resulted in a predictable, Rambo-style failure until eventually, Browne managed to draw the keeper into a moment of madness and the game was ours. It was hardly sophisticated, but we'll take the points where we can get them.

It's not particularly entertaining and it won't work against better teams, it clearly didn't work in the draw against Forest Green last week. But, with a newly stingy defence, it's aiding a recovery of sorts.

Earlier in the season I was complaining about the sheer chaos of our gameplay - players running into each other, defensive errors and the like. The system we have now is disciplined, but obvious. It is suited to a team full of strong personalities brave enough to embark on kamikaze raids into the opposition defence, which is something we have plenty of.

This is where I think Sam Smith struggles, he's only a few months older than Harvey Bradbury, who many is think of as a raw prospect. In this team, you only get to play if you're prepared to bully your way into the game and Smith is not that kind of player. I suspect Kemar Roofe would have struggled in this team due to the lack of service and team play. Jamie Mackie will demand to be involved because of his personality and experience, Smith doesn't seem to have the personality or game to bully his way into a game.

Bradbury, as Sam Long said afterwards, is a big lump. Karl Robinson's observation was exactly right when he said that while not offering an obvious goal threat, getting centre-backs booked and putting them on the back foot played an important role in securing the three points. I'm not sure about Robinson's view that we should start looking at the top 10, but between Bradbury and Mackie, and looking at our upcoming fixtures, it feels like we just have enough to get us to the January transfer window in a solid state.

Only Robinson knows what who has lined up in the New Year, but for me, I think our recent form should mean we rule out a move for Nile Ranger. The morals arguments aside, Ranger is an opportunity, and also a risk, but now we have established a precarious stability and I would rather we focused on planned development rather than speculative opportunities.

The wrap - Port Vale 2 Oxford United 0

So, for the first time in 17 years we’ve been the victim of a giant killing, the currency of the FA Cup and the ultimate humiliation. Yet, strangely, it doesn’t feel like it.

I love the FA Cup, but not because of us. I love the David and Goliath narrative, the journey into unknown territories for minnows and journeymen, the Wembley set-piece and its universal celebration of a season completed. But this is a football story, not an Oxford United one and I have come to realise that these are not necessarily the same things.

Only in the last couple of years is the Cup something I feel we’ve had much joy from. Swansea in 2016 was an epic triumph in a season of epic triumphs and Newcastle last year a joyous reprise. Before that, beating Swindon and facing Arsenal in 2003 was fun, as was beating Brighton and facing Coventry in 1982, but those highlights were 20 years apart. The story in-between offered very little.

The present never quite has the same effect as the past. In 20 years, we may look back at the Swansea game as part of our FA Cup heritage in the way my dad talks about The Blackburn Game in 1964. But, at the moment, it doesn’t quite have that sepia tinged feel about it.

On Friday, amidst the misery, the Oxford Mail asked Dave Langan what his favourite FA Cup memory was at Oxford; he could only think of his worst (0-3 v Aldershot in 1987). Even during our glory years, it was a competition where we never excelled.

The League Cup was always ours; the results and the significance of those results is what defines it – Manchester United, Arsenal, Newcastle, Leeds, the heartbreak against Everton and, of course, QPR. Some of our biggest moments have happened in that competition, but not the FA Cup.

Perhaps it’s something about night games at The Manor, not only were the results better, but it was a better experience all round than the cold light of day that framed most FA Cup matches.

Plus, of course, nobody really wants to travel to Burslem on a Friday night, that’s enough to take the joy out of everything.

So, although the performance was desperately poor and half-hearted, the impact is somewhat less than it might have been. And, looking pragmatically, we won’t be having one of the chaotic Januarys which has threatened to derail our seasons in the last couple of years.

Middlesborough wrap - Middlesborough 3 Oxford United 2

The magic of the FA Cup sometimes feels like having a fire hose rammed into your mouth. You’re forced to consume it in massive overwhelming quantities until you’d rather be dead than have to take  any more.

Magic, like religion, is a convenient way of explaining things so complex and nuanced that you can’t come up with a rational explanation for it. The FA Cup offers the unique magic of possibility; that a non-league team can compete with a mega-giant of the game, but this is simply because it's the only  competition that doesn't stratify or seed teams so that the big teams have to mix with the riff raff. And then there are the magic of shocks, but if you think about the thousands of games that have been played in 145 years of the competition, by the law of averages some of those games will have unexpected outcomes. 

But what about that magical unerring belief anything can happen and that your name is on the cup? Yes, but every team starts every game in the FA Cup off the back of a win, it creates a sense of being unbeatable, that something is pre-destined. It is only when reality bites and you’re knocked out that the truth slams home.

All this 'magic' is what drives 3,500 people to travel 230 miles in the hope, against all the odds, that they will be witness to some kind of miraculous moment. It is a ludicrous, reckless gamble.

For forty-five minutes against Middlesborough it looked like normality was being stamped all over those hopes. The injustices of the Premier League, the dog muck of their excessive wealth rubbed into our faces. First through a clumsy penalty, then through a French Beninese reserve. The fact that a team like Middlesborough can sign a Beninese international to not play for them compared to our star player being imported from Motherwell illustrates the gulf that exists. 

And at 2-0 that was pretty much that, or so we thought. Were we going to take an embarrassing  beating? Maybe it was going to be even worse; maybe Middlesbrough would simply hold us while we huffed and puffed. A humiliation and humbling in front of our own fans, their fans and the TV audience.

But, Middlesbrough have the fourth worst form in the Premier League and Oxford the third best in League 1. If relegation and promotion were based on short term form - relevant in a one-off game like this - then we could easily be facing them as equals in the Championship. There may still be a gap, but the League 1/Premier League chasm can be reduced very quickly in the short term.

And with this secret still intact, plus a deepening muscle memory of belief, there lies an ember of hope. Chris Maguire ignites the fire when Guzan leaves a gap so large it might as well be a metaphor for his complacency. A little flick and it’s 2-1. 

And then sixty seconds in which all the investment is worth it; every trip to St Albans or Tonbridge, every false hope signing, watching jealously as Steve Basham registers a hat-trick against us for Hayes and Yeading. A mass of fans who have travelled a combined distance equivalent to circumventing the globe 50 times, fans that have come in blind faith just to watch the game. Oxford swarm forward in audacious belief, the ball sweeps left to Maguire whose shot drops to Martinez. Goal.

The limbs, as they say, the limbs and limbs and limbs; cascading down the stands. Proper, decent people; the rich who hide their anxieties, the poor who fear the rich, people who live in darkened times, who pay taxes and mortgages, who fret about their futures, who lie awake worrying about their families are pulsing with joyous disbelief.  As one, bonded through the decades, the shared experience that is often the trudge of defeat but occasionally the splatter of victory. This is the magic, right in this moment. 

At the very moment the magic surges it begins to subside. Finally the re-adjustment comes and Stuani prods home for 3-2. Does it matter? For that blissful sixty seconds has created a fusion, an unbreakable bond that makes this marvelous club what it is and will continue to be.

Newcastle wrap - Oxford United 3 Newcastle United 0

If the build-up to Saturday’s Cup game was anything to go by, Newcastle fans think they exist in a Premier League bubble that, in reality, they don’t belong to. There was a general apathy towards the tie; we were just Oxford – insert blank look and indifferent shrug - generically from ‘the lower leagues’, a shadowy movement at the bottom of a pond. They knew little of us and cared even less, their team would cruise through to face someone more worthy of their attention.

Hopefully they’ll get back to where they occasionally belong before the bubble pops; it could be a devastating shock otherwise. Some appear to know there’s a ticking clock on this; one tweeter said it was a case of ‘no promotion, no Rafa’ as though the club owed the manager success, not the other way around. What a weirdly desperate world they live in.

The reality is that there is far less between most professional football clubs than the money gaps suggest. Those thinking we’d be a pushover miss the fact that Lundstram, Ledson, Martinez and Hall have all come from Premier League backgrounds while Maguire, Hemmings and Johnson have Scottish Premier experience. From a technical and temperament perspective, they are all capable of playing at a higher level. Others; Sercombe, Skarz, Dunkley have plenty of big game experience at the Kassam. To the outsider we might be ‘lower league’ but on any given day the differences between us and those above us are tiny.

Then there’s the Newcastle mind-set; the players that were picked know they’re not favoured by the manager. If Newcastle get promoted, it’s likely they’ll be shipped out to make way for better players. Also, it’s widely accepted that draws in the cup are the worst possible outcome. Defeats are surely unacceptable, but if the manager does nothing to suggest a win is desirable, how can a player know what the right mind-set is?

Michael Appleton overcomes this dissonance by simply playing to win regardless of whether it’s the league, FA Cup or Checkatrade. He rarely makes significant changes to personnel; the philosophy is that you try to win all games, not just the financially important ones.

If both teams applied its ‘quality’ consistently and in a linear way, then the difference between a Championship and League 1 team is so small, it would only show in the last few minutes of a game. It’s more complicated, of course, players’ physical, mental and technical abilities fluctuate throughout games and that’s when differences can be seen and, more importantly, when you have to take your chances.

Newcastle’s potential threat first emerged around the half-an-hour mark. Up to that point we’d been buoyant but disciplined, more than a match. A few concentration lapses and we were at sixes and sevens; but up steps Simon Eastwood to perform a formidable rear guard. Mitrovic, the main culprit, is surly from the first whistle, Nelson roughed him up and he didn’t seem to recover. It’s all very well being a Diego Costa-type, but if the trolling knocks your composure then it’s a waste of time.

Eastwood takes the glory but this is John Lundstram’s game. Lundstram is a central figure in this year’s team. Last year, he was one of many outlets we had to win games. This year we’re more of a single unit with Lundstram the central cog; if he’s off form then we become reliant on the moments of skill from Maguire or others. When he’s on it, everyone performs.

There are two Lundstrams, one is the diesel, where the game passes him buy for 20 minutes while he gets going. The other is tenacious from the first minute. He makes his own luck, puts people in their place and dictates the game from the off. On Saturday, he was the latter, an early challenge sets the tone, and he owns the game from thereon in.

Half time offers another threat. Against Barnsley in the JPT it killed us, legs became heavy, minds more tired as the adrenalin ebbed away. But we manage the break and they’re the ones looking lethargic. Maguire, Dunkley, Hemmings; a complete sucker punch. 1-0.

Mitrovic shows a glimpse of guile dragging Edwards 10 yards into the box before stumbling and falling to the floor. It was a penalty, albeit cynically won. The Serb grabs the ball but the game pivots on Eastwood’s brilliant save. Minutes later, Nelson rises to nod home and make it 2-0; he’s been slower to this year’s party, but he’s starting to fill the massive gap left by Jake Wright. Newcastle fans who have been noisy throughout head for the exits just like, well, just like Sunderland fans do.

Martinez comes on and plays like a new pair of shoes, he looks good but doesn’t quite fit with everything else. It reminded me of David Rush’s debut against Leyton Orient in 1995. He came on, looked lively but undisciplined, we conceded from a corner because he neglected his defensive duties, then a minute later went down the other end and scored the winner. Martinez is a like that, keen, frustrating and ultimately effective. 3-0.

Rarely are FA Cup wins so comfortable, was it a shock? Only in the way a tombola is; you know you can get something out of it, it’s just a pleasant surprise when it’s Bells’ Whiskey rather than a bottle of shampoo.

Rotherham wrap - Rotherham 2 Oxford United 3

Stuart Massey, Simon Clist, Scott Rendell; great moments have unsung heroes.

In 1996, with Chris Allen going all starry eyed at Nottingham Forest, Stuart Massey – his less thrilling more battle worn replacement - started demanding the ball on the ground so he could put quality crosses in. Suddenly we stopped lumping balls forward. It was decisive in us winning promotion even though history has largely forgotten him.

In 2010, Simon Clist did simple things well giving Adam Murphy and Adam Chapman licence to create things for James Constable, Jack Midson and Matt Green. It took us all the way to Wembley and all that.

Scott Rendell’s performance against Swindon in 2012 will also be forgotten by many, but his immense shift after James Constable had been sent off at the Kassam was key to a famous win.

In a squad that has many songs sung about it, Ryan Taylor is, quite literally, unsung. Since returning to the side as sub against Walsall, he has been integral to back-to-back away wins. A goal and much more against Rotherham on Saturday demonstrated what a key asset he can be.

Taylor is frequently overlooked when it comes to our successes. He isn’t irreplaceable or even a guaranteed starter, but he offers something others don’t; quality on the ball and a presence up front.

I’ve always felt that Michael Appleton’s preferred system is one which uses a big forward with a good touch to bring attacking midfielders into the game rather than one that necessarily scores 25 goals a year himself. Taylor, if he stays fit, could be that man.

Being an unsung hero requires a special kind of dedication. It’s a necessary job, but one that, by definition, is seldom recognised. There is a certain satisfaction in completing something successfully but Taylor plays a role that requires you to be battered around continuously and made to look like an oaf, he can be hauled off after an hour exhausted and not having had a shot on goal, but that’s not to say he hasn’t done his job. Watch what Kane Hemmings did for the last goal on Saturday – Taylor laid the groundwork for that.

Watch also, for example, Kemar Roofe’s first goal against Swansea last year. It’s Taylor who brings the ball down and lays it off to Roofe, but having laid it off he heads into the box pulling defenders with him giving Roofe the space to get his shot away. Look also at Taylor’s immediate reaction; while Roofe heads of in celebration, Taylor jogs on head down as if he knows he’s done a good job, but that he also knows nobody will remember his contribution.

Few fans really appreciate the work of people like Taylor when they’re at the club, it’s only when they leave and you truly see what’s missing do you start to pine. I guess it’s just the way of the unsung hero.

Weekly wrap - Oxford United 1 Oldham Athletic 1, Oxford United 3 Macclesfield Town 0, Bury 2 Oxford United 3

It’s been a good week on the whole; two wins and a draw soured, to some degree, by flag-related acrimony off the pitch.

I’ve always felt that it would be difficult to truly judge the team this season until Christmas; so the Bury win gives us the opportunity to take stock of where we’re at and where we’re heading.

This week’s events did seem to confirm what emerged over the last few weeks – this is a year of transition but we’ll be OK. We’re only 5 points from the play-offs, but our goal difference is probably more telling; for most of the season its sat at zero with the odd variant either way. That says we’re competitive without being truly outstanding.

It’s not that much of a surprise; it’s wrong to say that last year was fortunate, but it was unusual to have the amount of talent we had playing in a League 2 side. Roofe and O’Dowda alone were worth £4.5 million. In addition, there was the curious case of Danny Hylton, signed by Gary Waddock, Jake Wright; a stalwart of the Chris Wilder years and the likes of George Baldock, who played in the Championship, and John-Joe Kenny who was on the bench in the Merseyside Derby on Monday.

It was almost a perfect combination, it still needed focussing and organising, but we had the assets to exceed our objectives. We went into this season playing in a higher division with most of that golden squad gone. The key question was; could the club’s core infrastructure re-build and sustain the level of success?

Thankfully, the answer appears to be yes. We’re not as breathtaking as we were last year, but the opposition is generally better and people are quick to forget that players like Jon Lundstram, Joe Skarz, Alex MacDonald and Liam Sercombe have all played a huge number of games in the last 12-18 months. We tend to think players are completely re-set at the beginning of each season but it’s the same (slightly rested) bodies and minds that finished last season. Maintaining the physical and mental intensity is always difficult so it’s probably not a surprise that their form has dipped slightly at times and they’ve been more prone to injuries.

As I say, last season’s squad was worth at least £4.5 million from Roofe and O’Dowda alone. Look at the whole squad and that figure could have been pushed certainly over £5 million, perhaps six. It’s been years since the club had playing assets of that nature in the squad. In essence we had a £6 million-plus squad assembled for virtually nothing.

While there was clearly investment in the squad, it’s not like we needed to buy big last season so the club could focus on building value elsewhere. Essentially this meant building relations with the fans – organising club holidays, embracing the enthusiasm of the Oxford Ultras, improving merchandise, strengthening branding, actively working on social media, improving the match day experience and innovating with tactical marketing campaigns to get more people through the gates.

Most, if not all of it worked; crowds grew and I suspect merchandise sales did too. But it all comes at a financial cost there needs to be an increase in revenue to match it. The Roofe and O’Dowda money should still be there to some extent, some has been invested in the squad, more will be servicing debt, so it’s not infinite. Assuming that Darryl Eales doesn’t have barrow loads of cash, if the club is to progress onto the Championship – the level at which it is most likely to have sustainable future - it needs to find new ways of making or saving money.

This is the constant balancing act for all football clubs, a few weeks ago I was at the Etihad, they have banners which say ‘The only club in Manchester’ – implying their parochial roots of being the club of the people of the city. On the other side is a banner which say ‘Thank you Sheik Mansour’ acknowledging that it is not the people, but oil from the Arabian peninsula which has paid for their success.

All clubs have the same problem – they need to retain their core values because that’s what fans buy into, but they also need to find new ways of funding success.

The podcast The Fence End Pod recently tweeted some Pathe News footage of our 1964 FA Cup tie against Blackburn as part of a Christmas advent thing. Footage showed no advertising boards around the Manor, no sponsors on the shirt, not even a kit manufacturer’s logo. This is football at its very purest, played, run and funded by The People with no part compromised in the name of money. Most fans would hanker for such a thing now.

But it won’t work now; attitudes have changed and the stakes are higher and more expensive. Clubs have to sell off bits of the equity they have in order to fund themselves, in more emotive footballing terms, they need to sell bits of their soul.

We generally accept that a bit of the sacred club shirt can be sold to a sponsor or manufacturer, or that your home ground can be festooned with adverts of companies trying to make money from your success. But it is a challenge to know when you’ve crossed the line.

Take, for example, the flag issue. Flags and displays have become a key part of Oxford United fan culture over the last few years. It has filled a void resulting from the move to the more sterile Kassam where people have to sit more passively in rows to watch a game.

But flags get in peoples’ way, they obscure the view; it’s why the club have agreed certain rules about when the larger ones can and can’t be waved. In essence, you apply those rules in order to try and give more people a comfortable and consistent viewing experience in the hope that they will keep spending money to keep coming to games. So, we compromise some of the fan culture of the club – sell it off – for extra ticket sales.

There is nothing wrong with this in essence; it’s generally accepted that if you go to the cinema or theatre you will be expected to behave in a certain way so that everyone enjoys the same experience. But in football, when does a comfortable fan experience turn into one which is sterile and meaningless?

It’s a judgement call, but I think the club have got this one wrong in trying to apply restrictions to the use of flags during games. Each area of a football stadium needs to develop its own culture. When I started going, I would go onto the safe, and not too expensive, Osler Road with my dad. As I got older, I wanted to be in the more fevered atmosphere of the London Road – that was where all the noise and action came from. When we moved to the Kassam, I went into the Oxford Mail Stand but started to realise that those around me were getting younger as I got older. I became distracted by horny teenagers trying to impress girls, or the games of giving each other wet willies or simply the banal abuse of players and games. I found that I wasn’t really enjoying being part of that experience so about 7 years ago I moved to the South Stand Upper because the overall experience suited what I wanted from a game.

The East Stand needs to be as fevered as it’s possible to get; flags and singing are part of that, they are the engine room of the atmosphere. So long as people aren’t getting hurt (and they’re not, despite what Health and Safety zealots tell you), the more fevered it gets the better. If you don’t like what comes with that – flags getting in the way or people falling over the top of you after a goal celebration, then there’s the North Stand. If you get to an age where even that’s too much, then the South Stand is a much calmer experience.

While the response from the Ultras seemed a bit over the top, it revealed a level of hurt that people haven’t really talked about. The argument is not about whether a flag should be waved, it’s whether the effort those fans put into the club is valued more or less than the commercial aspects of providing a consistent fan experience. If you think that there seems to be a core of 4,000 supporters who will follow the club whatever state it’s in, there are currently another 4,000 per game on average who are more casual. The atmosphere in the ground and performance on the pitch are the two key influencing factors as to whether those 4,000 attend or not. That’s £80,000 per game minimum, or £1.8m a year. I would rather we protected that than the odd fan who finds themselves in the wrong area of the ground and is distracted by a flag in their face. I say; let the flags fly.

Macclesfield wrap - Macclesfield Town 0 Oxford United 0

What was that all about? 

On Friday night against Macclesfield, we looked like the brittle, fragile Oxford United from a few years ago. The team that came with expectation and returned with nothing. For the first time in a long time, the assured professionalism deserted us and in its place was something worryingly familiar.

Chey Dunkley, often the archetype of modern Oxford, typified the display. Jamie Cook tweeted that he didn’t think Dunkley was ‘good enough’ from what he’d seen. On this showing it was true, he looked over-eager to stamp his authority on the Macclesfield defence making him look clumsy and ponderous in the process. It reminded me of one of his previous TV appearances against Bristol Rovers last season in which he probably should have been sent off in the opening minutes.

What was the problem? An over-willingness to dominate? Nervousness of being on TV and wanting to show his class? Or was he simply bamboozled by the pacey Macclesfield attack? Whatever it was, it put us on the back foot from the opening minutes.

They were never going to maintain their blistering start, and did bring them to heal as the half and game went on. But, then there was a second problem; if we could create a chance, who would score the goals? 

In a team that was packed with midfielders, there just didn’t seem a viable outlet – Maguire and Roberts have lots of worthy attributes, but they don’t always offer an efficient route to goal you might get from a proper striker.  As a result, we just didn’t seem to have anything to lance Macclesfield’s enthusiasm.

The problem, I suppose, is that with Wes Thomas out, do you risk Hemmings when you should win comfortably without him? Does anyone believe Taylor offers a goal threat? Rob Hall is a potential striker, but he’s still coming back from injury. If we can’t rely on any of them, then it’s a question of taking your pick from a wealth of attack-minded midfielders. But, do we really need to out-think them or should we just try battering them instead? Will Michael Appleton ever find the target man he seems to crave?

We seemed to get caught in two minds about how to approach the game; on one hand we wanted to put out a strong team to win comfortably, on the other we wanted to protect the squad and see if we could squeeze through with minimal effort. In the end, we achieved neither.

Merstham wrap - Merstham 0 Oxford United 5

They came to watch a public execution; a symbolic act, a nod to a forgotten past, an annual ritual turned into a form of entertainment. It wasn’t Guy Fawkes Night, it was the FA Cup.

BT, along with the BBC and the cup’s corporate sponsors have bought a narrative which involves small teams beating big teams. This is particularly true in the earlier rounds, before the big teams take over. Global sponsors don’t want the big teams getting beaten, that would spoil the product for the worldwide audience. Early on, though, they salivate at the prospect of a giant killing, with blood dripping from their teeth, they seek it mercilessly.

I doubt even people in Merstham care much about Merstham football club. They probably lie awake in the dead of night worrying about how they’re going to maintain the mortgage payments on their extravagantly overpriced houses as a result of Brexit. Football, in the main, is something that happens on TV, not in their village. I

In truth, the TV companies don’t care about Merstham or Oxford, they just care about The Narrative. The Small Team of normal people beating The Big Team of overpaid superstars. Every year they want to recreate a Ronny Radford moment, but it never quite comes. They keep trying; if they can get themselves a giantkilling, then they will be sated never to return again, the only sign they were ever there are the tyre tracks from their mobile TV trucks.

We have to talk about pluckiness and giving a good account of themselves, but Merstham didn’t understand their role; their manager seemed like a lovely bloke, so happy and excited by the whole thing, but tried to turn the occassion into a football match, talking about ‘false nines’ in an attempt to gain the upper hand.

Tactics, though, only really work when everything else is broadly equal. He was never going to outfox a club with our quality. Really, he should have focussed on turning the game into a brawl; a big mess of a game that we didn't recognise. But it was all too friendly and polite, they would play on our terms, not theirs.

Of course, the corollary of the giant killing is the minnow killing. It is what makes the giant killing such an attractive narrative; that it happens rarely, certainly not to the demands of television. Ours was a killing which had all the classics of the genre; the moment of true class from Alex MacDonald, the killer goal just before half-time when minds have started to drift, the swift double which destroys spirit and souls, and the late killer blow when legs have turned to jelly. Typically only one or two of these is enough, we conjured up a raft of them.

Blackburn Rovers wrap - Oxford United 0 Blackburn Rovers 3

As the FA Cup progresses things get harder on three fronts; you’re more likely to draw a better team, teams begin to take it more seriously because of the opportunities it offers and they’re less likely to under-estimate lower league opponents because they know that, on their day, they can beat anyone.

Following the win over Swansea, we didn’t draw a better team in Blackburn, but I suspect we would have given them a better game had we drawn them in the third round when we were more of a surprise. 

They came and played the tie as though it were a Championship game. The midfield was so packed that, at times, it looked like they were playing a 4-6-0 formation. It suffocated our danger men. In the end, we were average and made three mistakes, they were average and didn’t. It’s one of the revelations of the book Inverting the Pyramid that tactics in the modern game focus not so much on winning, but on not losing. And that was Blackburn through and through; be strong, don’t make mistakes and make your chances count. It's telling that the goals came from two set plays and a bad mistake. As both Michael Appleton and George Baldock noted, we were never carved open.

It was effective, of course, not negative, just underwhelming. It's slightly depressing to think there's a culture in English football of teams who rely on muscle and set pieces to survive. But then, that’s Blackburn, one the great ‘meh’ teams of English football, a team without the ambition or resources to move forward and who are fearful of falling further behind. Paul Lambert has acquired a reputation for mediocrity and his employers aren't exactly known for their long term rational management. I guess he's in preservation mode; a couple more disastrous tenures and he could fall out of football for good.

It’s existing, but is it living?

It’s a dilemma that we might face at some time in the future, whether you push on or hold your position. But that's not us at the moment. As the press coverage shows, we’re an interesting and innovative club, exciting to be around. In so many ways we succeed spectacularly, I suppose it’s only normal that, occasionally, we’ll get it all a bit wrong.

If we’re the hipsters’ club du jour, then the farewell to George Baldock showed our metrosexual side. It was a genuinely sweet moment. Is this the product of the internet age? Social media gives us the perception that we have a closer relationship with players than before. When the child who got Baldock’s shirt at the end of the game thanked him live on the radio, was it because Oxford and Baldock have developed a unique bond or just because mobile phones and digital communications allows this sort of thing to happen? 

There is a bit of a feeling in the air that the nature of the defeat and Baldock’s departure is the sign that something is ending. Reality biting or destiny calling. This is all nonsense; the last few months have been the product of a relentless dedication to a process. It’s easy to become distracted by the idea that there are mystical powers playing a part in dictating our future. 

Tuesday brings to a close an extraordinary period; despite only being 90 minutes from Wembley, I remain strangely relaxed about whether we progress or not. There is an increasing chunk of me that wants to get back to the reality of the league. Away from the pressure and disruption of big crowds, the intrusion of the press, the speculation about our players. As much as the big set-piece games are fun; in the end, I just want us to get promoted. 

Coming up: Blackburn

The drop

Before the mid-eighties there were two things I knew about Oxford United's history from my dad; the first was that the journey from Abingdon to the Manor Ground in the 60s was so epic you had to take a packed lunch to survive it, the second was The Blackburn Game.

My dad eulogised about The Blackburn Game as the high watermark in Oxford's history. Blackburn Rovers, 1st Division giants chasing the title, playing Oxford United; Football League novices when even getting into the Football League was a miracle due to its arcane election system. In front of a crowd of 21,700 at the Manor - a terrifying number in a ground that had a capacity of less than half that when it closed - Oxford ran out 3-1 winners. There's a brilliant account of the game here.

All this was pretty much swept away with the eighties glories,  consigned to people like my dad comparing pretty much everything that happened to The Blackburn Game. which is a bit sad because the Pathe News footage of the game is fantastic.

Anyway, they're back, Blackburn that is, but few will look back on this in a similar vein. I almost see this as being a 'free' game after the trials of recent weeks. We've proved our point in the Cup against Swansea, if we win then the adventure continues, if we lose we can leave with our heads held high. 

Old game of the day

Ladies and gentlemen; The Blackburn Game.

Better than Google - Oxford United v Swansea media links

The last week was an absolute media-bomb for the club, I couldn't keep up with the coverage, so I started bookmarking stuff. I thought you might be interested as well.

Michael Appleton uses Swansea template to plot Oxford United's graduation to top flight
Swans dumped out of FA Cup after Kemar Roofe scores twice
Oxford's Kemar Roofe capable of returning to the top

Hands off Kemar Roofe, warns Oxford manager Michael Appleton
Kemar Roofe the hero as Premier League Swans knocked out by minnows

Oxford United’s Kemar Roofe dumps Swansea City out of FA Cup with double
Oxford United v Swansea City - As it happened
FA Cup: talking points from the third round
England’s lost boy John Lundstram back to his best at ambitious Oxford
FA Cup Third Round in Pictures

Oxford United beat Swansea - and Oxford's fans single-handedly get the 2016 FA Cup underway
5 things we learned as Kemar Roofe stars to send Swans crashing out

Newcastle transfer target Kemar Roofe lifts Oxford past Swans
FA Cup Team of the Week

Oxford United's FA Cup hero Kemar Roofe: I enjoy making clothes, but it's time I fashioned a path back to the top...
Jonjo Shelvey involved in heated row with a Swansea supporter as Newcastle ready bid for the unsettled midfielder
Kemar Roofe is on fire! Talented midfielder puts top flight strugglers to the sword with second half double
Kemar Roofe scores brace as Us seal third-round shock at Kassam Stadium

Appleton eyes Man Utd after leading big FA Cup upset

Kemar Roofe scored twice as League Two Oxford knocked Premier League strugglers Swansea out of the FA Cup

Minute by minute coverage

Swansea wrap - Oxford United 3 Swansea City 2

We’d won before the game kicked off. A week of positive coverage in the press served as a comprehensive re-branding. Gone was mention of former, brief and increasingly forgotten glories, or our collapse into the non-league, there were no tired analogies relating to Dons or dreaming spires. We've moved from admired to shambolic to widely ignored, but, each new article portrayed us as full of innovation and intelligence; an archetypal next generation football club. It felt weird, but good.

I get to the ground over an hour before kick-off to find a contented buzz. It isn’t the rabid anxiety of a derby or must-win promotion or relegation decider. We're comfortable in our own skin, happily wrapped up against the winter chill. Sunday morning is a very Oxford time of the week; when you get the papers (Observer, naturally), drink coffee and buy fresh croissants. It feels like that, just re-imagined through a football match. Inside, the place looks like the football you see on TV; an event rather than a duty, as someone on Twitter accurately surmises.

The game itself is intended as a benchmarking exercise; how does our newly publicised 'ethos' measure up against those we aspire to be like?

But, they declare a hand of disinterest by making 10 changes; a cynical financially motivated Premier League move. What kind of benchmark are we actually going to face?

They play Sunderland on Wednesday and Premier League survival is worth upwards of £100m from next year. I get that logic, but do they really need the demoralising shadow of a giantkilling hanging over them during a relegation fight? Wednesday had better be worth it.

As the stands fill, dotted along the back of the East Stand are the Yellow Army, a shadowy guerrilla marketing movement dedicating absurd amounts of time and money into making Oxford United fun. Like the SAS busting the Iran Embassy siege; they appear from nowhere, execute their plan and dissolve back into the shadows. As the teams come out they raise a banner that reads 'Rise like the spirit of 86'. To so many, the Milk Cup is a thing of fact, but to many more it is now a beautiful part of our mythology. I like that.

When the whistle blows we're confronted with the reality of a cup tie that someone has to win. Like having a new pair of shoes but not wanting to get them dirty; we don’t want to compromise our shiny new principles. We all know the template for giant killings; backs-against-the-wall defending, early-doors reducers, sticking it up ‘em, big bloke up front, sticky pitches and dollops of luck. But, with all the positive coverage we've had, we could hardly start kicking lumps out of them. On the other hand, our passing game, good though it is, isn’t going to out-gun a Premier League team. Is it?

A game they didn’t want to win and we don’t think we should. They pass the ball nicely while lacking intent, we stick to our principles and create some chances, but only half ones at best... the crowd quietens. It's all very friendly and nonthreatening; an exhibition game. Johnny Lundstram tries to create things, but his passing game isn’t quite firing. Is it nerves? Or just that he has less space to work with than usual? Ultimately, it's all a bit deferential; to our principles and our opponents.

If there is a difference, it's demonstrated through Jonjo Shelvey. Not a dynamic or sparkling player, but efficient with the ball in the way others aren't. I can see why managers like him but fans don’t. Premier League teams are, above all, efficient. Shelvey, with the ball, always does something that moves the play on. But, he has no pace and needs players around him to be effective, and that's missing.

The pattern, though, seems set on 23 minutes; among the pleasantness; a moment of genuine class. Montero ties George Baldock in knots cleverly running him into Alex MacDonald, he changes direction, picks up a one-two and slots the ball home. It is, to some degree, a relief. If this is the destiny of the game, where were not going to be humiliated just victims of their fitful moments of class, that's OK.

But, there's that nagging feeling that if something can ignite our game, then we might actually do some damage. It happened against West Brom in the League Cup last year when Danny Hylton bundled the ball in the net for our equaliser, it rattled them so much it gave us space and we began to outplay them. But, can we generate a similar spark here?

There are signs; Kemar Roofe's been busy up front, Lundstram’s passes start reaching their targets, Chris Maguire’s industriousness is having an effect. If we apply a little extra bite, Swansea are timid enough to let us take over and dictate the game.

Our moment comes from a very League 2 scramble. A Maguire corner drops to Liam Sercombe whose shot deflects to Jake Wright; the last man standing from our Conference days; 240 appearances, 0 goals. He swings an unrefined boot and draws a decent block from their keeper; had it gone in I’d have been on the pitch. Instead, it falls to MacDonald - a League 2 pitbull. His tenacity is already unsettling the Swans. He’s an irritant; a chintzy vase your mum gave you in a house full of clean lines and minimalist decor. He bombs into the box; a clumsy challenge sends him sprawling; Sercombe’s penalty levels the tie and we head to the break all-square.

We’ve learnt a lesson from the first half; if we attack the game, things happen. Let’s face it, their manager has sent out two messages; he doesn’t care if they win or not and the players he’s selected aren’t his priority. If we can shake them, we can win this. Lundstram, Roofe and Maguire have been playing against players like this for years, so there's no lack of class. All that's missing is someone to take the initiative. The Premier League artifice is crumbling before our eyes.

We go onto the front foot, Shelvey drops deeper looking for the ball, meaning he's less effective as an attacking threat, he looks more lumbering and that seems to reflect on those around him. We gain greater territory; Kemar Roofe epitomises the new found resolve with a bouncing bomb into the bottom corner: 2-1. It's like Luke Skywalker comparing the destruction of the Death Star to shooting womp rats back home; Roofe is just doing what he does, context is irrelevant.

It gets better, MacDonald jimmys away at a Swansea corner sending Maguire free sparking a counter-attack of lightening pace. There's acres of space, Roofe chips in for a third. Delirium.

There's a picture on the front of the Times with Roofe following the ball into the net, on his shoulder is MacDonald, what the picture doesn't show, of course, is that not much more than five seconds earlier they were both defending deep in our box. Now, this is football. 

Another moment of Premier League quality sees it come back to 3-2; Cork invents a new angle and plays in Gomes who has found a pocket of space on the right. The response for Swansea’s players and fans is oddly muted. Gomes’ reaction is to trot back to the centre circle as though he's completed a training drill. What’s wrong with them? Are they paralysed by what to do? Do they stage a comeback - force a replay they scarcely want - or acquiesce to the mood set by their manager and just let the tie go?

Our legs turn to jelly for a few minutes and it looks like we might collapse. Matthew Syed talks about success being a balance of rigorously applied practice and the ability to create a feeling of invincibility. We've done the science bit, but our vision of success has a crack in it; is the real story here of gutsy no-hopers being gently overhauled by class and talent?

We need something else, an outlet; we won't defend this lead for 25 minutes sitting on the edge of the box. Suddenly we have one, Callum O'Dowda appears to replace the tiring MacDonald. This is Oxford United in 2016; bringing on a £1m rated under-21 international as a substitute. If we give him the ball and licence to run with it, he'll push Swansea back on his own.

But, we also need someone with a selfless work ethic; once the ball is at the Swansea end, we need someone to cause a nuisance and stop it coming straight back. Danny Hylton, almost forgotten in the last few weeks, comes on. Hylton's nuts, of course, he'll get in the way, chase everything, run half the length of the pitch, change direction and head to the corner flag. He just doesn't care. Hoban too appears, adding more problems to Swansea's demoralised back-line. When will this lowly League 2 team run out of players?

We see out the remaining minutes with little drama. Sweet Caroline booms around the stands. Oxford United reborn. The story is multi-layered, the relentless sense of duty of the fans, brave decisions in the board room, and the appliance of a footballing philosophy that's at the very cutting edge. The narrative, however, is one which starts with a few hundred fans going to Wiener Neustadt in July and ends with a party for 10,000 in January. Perhaps though, just this once, this isn't the end of the story, hopefully it's just the end of the first chapter.

Coming Up - Swansea City

The drop

Kassam’s First Law: If we’ve played you at the Kassam in the league, you’re not a big team, so said one wag on Twitter.

I remember Swansea coming to the Kassam looking like they would be heading out of Football League, now they're the biggest team we've faced since Aston Villa in the League Cup in 2002. I overheard someone say recently that they thought we could beat Swansea, but didn't think we will. I thought that summed it up nicely.

What is going for us is that we have the best team we've ever had at the Kassam. That's not saying much, but it's a good start. Also, we handle the big Kassam occasion much better than we used to as the game against Swindon and Exeter show.

Swansea are struggling and their minds will surely be on their game against Sunderland on Wednesday, as well as their ongoing survival battle. I'm guessing they'll play a weakened team; the stakes are too high in the league for them to be concentrating on FA Cup at the moment. It's also an interesting decision for them not to have properly replaced Gary Monk. It feels like a 'survival' decision to me - they want someone to organise and not lose too many points rather than a new manager who is going to turn the place upside down (which may be what is needed). We showed at West Brom last year - who had Alan Irvine in charge at the time - how it's possible to rattle a Premier League team that's struggling, I'm hopeful we can do the same again.

But, are we just a bit too Premier League-light? Our passing style wouldn't look out of place in the top flight, but obviously there's more to it than that. Have we got the pace, strength, tactical guile and consistency to  impose our style on them? More importantly, do we have the defence, particularly in the middle, to cope with their attack?

I hope so, but I'm also hoping for a result either way. Neither team needs a replay.

Old game of the day

We were once subject to a micro-giant killing against Swansea in the Third Round 23 years ago. The video doesn't show it, but I'm fairly certain that Chris Allen was the Oxford player who missed the decisive penalty in the shoot-out. Time for revenge?

Forest Green and Yeovil Town wraps

Oxford United 1 Forest Green Rovers 0 

Forest Green was much more routine than it perhaps looked. They looked physically bigger than us all over the pitch, which may actually have been due to their vile luminous green shirts. Perhaps they were just conforming to the cliche of the part-time pub player, but I guess it's more that they’re specifically built to cope with Conference football in the deep winter.

We may have been more lithe, but we also had added sophistication and class. Their strategy was to use their bulk to unsettle us and maybe get something - a goal - they could defend when they tired. It worked, to a point; we couldn’t settle on the ball and the referee couldn’t distinguish between a genuine tackle and a foul. As a result, we couldn't control the game in the first half and they threatened to snatch a goal.

We just needed to weather the storm, if we could avoid conceding and not tire from the battering, we could press home our quality advantage late in the game. The risk was that they wouldn’t tire (although the way they started, it always it seemed likely they would), that we would concede (we didn't) and that we were effectively planning to find a winner in a 30 minutes game. Of course, when you have a magician in your side, you've always got a chance.

So they leave having given it a good go, we scrape through and avoid the humiliation of a giant killing; which pretty much fitted the template of this kind of game.

Oxford United 3 Yeovil Town 2

Yeovil was an altogether more pleasant and enjoyable experience. Partly because of the performance, but mainly because they were pretty awful and the result, ultimately, didn’t mean very much. There was very little angst in the tie; it was more a cosy night in the pub with friends than a raucous all-nighter.

Even now, just two positive results from Wembley, it is kind of difficult to get excited about the JPT, that said, I did go, which might suggest something is stirring.

Millwall in the next round offers something interesting; Nathan Cooper's passionate pre-match denunciation of the tie made an interesting point. Promotion from League 2 will not see a significant improvement in crowds - there are few 'glamour' clubs. What's more it's a heavily 'northern' division, meaning very few big away followings. So really, promotion only really means something - in a business sense - if you're aiming for the Championship, where things really will improve financially.

Survival in League 1 is not really enough to justify the investment currently being made by the owners, so, if we do get promoted this year, we've got to compete and beat the likes of Millwall next. The tie will be a really interesting test of how close we are to doing that.

Coming up: Forest Green Rovers

The drop

 

Forest Green Rovers are a funny little club; for a period they looked like one of those clubs that would come piling in, in a hail of money – Histon, Greys – before burning to dust when it all becomes too expensive and difficult to sustain. Perhaps they could have been the next Fleetwood or Crawley; the kind of team that followers of the Premier League are shocked to find are in the Football League at all.

But rather than soaring high or crashing to the floor, they seem to have stabilised and are progressing rather nicely. I recently caught some Conference football on BT Sport and it seems the days when pretty much every club featured an ex-Oxford player are all but over. Eastleigh, of course, are a museum to our conference years, but otherwise it’s difficult to judge just how good a team they are at the moment.

What is true is that they started the season off like a train and now sit second behind Cheltenham. That suggests this isn't going to be easy, but I also think that Michael Appleton will throw the kitchen sink at the game; it’s been 13 years since we had a Premier League team in the FA Cup and 15 since we had one at home, the law of averages dictates that the prospect of Premier League opposition in the next round is increasingly likely.

Coming up: Braintree Town

The drop

The FA Cup 1st Round tie is not a distraction. We were always going to play a first round tie so it's an integral part of the season. Braintree Town is not a potential banana skin, it's a real banana skin. Behind Bromley, they are the second highest team in English football that we've yet to play. They are threatening the play-offs in the Conference so we could conceivably be playing them as equals this time next year. We can trade off our snobbery towards these clubs, I know I do, but this is not to be taken lightly.

It's been half a decade since we played in the Conference, although it only feels like yesterday. There was a time it was possible to play spot the Oxford link in almost any Conference squad. Most of those players have retired, fallen out of the game completely, or even, like Jordan Rhodes, gone onto better things. Not so with Braintree, the only thing I recognised about their squad is that John Chiedoze's son plays for them.


Respecting the opposition is important, but so is respecting the FA Cup itself. I'm probably asking for a lawsuit by not using the name of the competition's sponsor, who gauchely insists on higher billing than the competition itself. It's ironic that a sponsor buys into the credibility, profile and heritage of a brand like the FA Cup whilst simultaneously devaluing it.

For over 130 years people have shared a common cause competing for the FA Cup. It binds us through time and space. There are far more venal and unpleasant things to compete for, so the FA Cup is to be protected because once it's gone, it won't be back. 

Old game of the day

Obviously, having never played them before, there is no old game of the day, so let's remind us (very briefly) of one of our darkest hours; getting smashed by Marlow in 94. If that's not sobering enough, just take a look at the colours we were wearing that day.

 

Back to The Future

There’s no question of the story of the last fornight; the emergence of James Roberts as a real-life homegrown striker who actually scores real professional goals.

There's always a frisson on excitement that comes from an emergent talent like Roberts. There's the vicarious joy of watching someone doing what you always dreamed to do - play and score for your team. We also hope beyond hope that he might be the Chosen One who will propel us forward. A hope to cling to, a sign of a brighter future.

But, tread carefully, for he is not the first, and history tells us that rarely does the flame of hope grow beyond a fleeting flicker.

When I first started supporting Oxford, home grown players that went on to greater things were the norm; my dad predicted an international future for Mark Wright during his league debut against Bristol City. We already had Kevin Brock and Andy Thomas, both in the squad for Wembley in ’86 and both would eventually forge decent top flight careers. Brock, in particular, played at Under-21 level for England. Those two aside, the glory years were characterised by players that were bought in, than by those brought through. However, it there wasn't the perception that we were buying in success. Because it was more normal to have British players coming through your youth system, it wasn’t quite the political issue it is today.

Joey Beauchamp was a ballboy on the touchline at Wembley. There’s a very youthful picture of him in Roger Howland’s Oxford United Complete History wearing that horrible yellow and white striped shirt that became synonymous with the latter glory years… ones which were less than glorious. Beauchamp was almost the son of the Glory Years; being born out of those successes and sustaining them, despite a brief transgression with Swindon, right through to the Kassam Years (the Inglorious Years).

Beauchamp was a proper hometown hero; he supported the club, found that he couldn’t live without it. When he signed for West Ham, however, it seemed that we would forever be a team that grew and then sold our best talent. That didn’t seem a bad thing to me because we weren’t the kind of club who could or even should hold onto such talented players.

Alongside Beauchamp, and to reinforce the theory that there would forever be a conveyor belt of talent, was Chris Allen. Allen was a particularly raw, hardly the type, you’d think, to evolve into an excellent coach. Allen’s head was turned by Nottingham Forest. By the time he left, he’d fallen out of love with the club and we were happy to cash in. Like Beauchamp at West Ham, Allen didn’t last long in the shiny world of top flight football.

Behind them, however, was the player I thought was the most talented of them all. Paul Powell could take teams on all by himself. There were few more exciting sights than Powell cutting in from the left and chipping home in front of a delirious London Road. I thought he’d play for England, and he was periodically linked with moves away. Injury and attitude did for him before he had a chance, a shadow of his former dynamic self, he continued in the margins deep into the Kassam years before falling by the wayside.

There were others; Simon Weatherstone hit a hat-trick in a reserve game against Arsenal which had the London Road salivating. But Weatherstone, when he did get his chance, was limited in his impact and settled into becoming a effective, but unremarkable holding midfielder in the lower leagues. Simon Marsh showed enough form under Malcolm Shotton to be considered for selection at England Under 21 level. Sold to Birmingham, his career fizzled to nothing. Rob Folland enjoyed international recognition with Wales, but didn’t do much beyond a goal at the Madjeski against Reading. Chris Hackett had pace to burn but little sense of direction, a move to Hearts and then Millwall was little return for someone who apparently, and improbably, once attracted the interest of Manchester United and Nottingham Forest.

Of course, with the great dawning of the Kassam years came the latest in the long lineage of great hopes. Jamie Brooks’ debut was at the first game at the Kassam Stadium, and his was the first goal scored; a delicate lob in a 1-2 defeat. I don’t think I fully appreciated Brooks’ talent, I just seemed so obvious that the new era, which would surely herald a period of unbridled success, would have a locally sourced hero on the pitch and, with Mark Wright as manager, in the dugout.

Brooks lasted a season (Wright even less) and was about to go on trial at Arsenal when he was struck down by Guillain-Barre Syndrome, which left him in intensive care. He never truly recovered, although he remained at the club until we were finally relegated from the Conference in 2006.

Brooks’ talents were prodigious, but it was two others who would work their way into the top flight. Dean Whitehead was fully forged by Ian Atkins, who resisted persistent calls to play Whitehead. When he did he matched talent with a prodigious appetite for work which saw him heading for Sunderland, and eventually the Premier League. Sam Ricketts took a more circuitous route. Never a spectacular player, he similarly never let anyone down when he played. Oxford let him go and he dropped out of the league to play for the, then ambitious Telford.

Telford imploded but he managed to get a contract with Swansea, just as they were starting to take off. A couple of smart moves to Hull and then Bolton, saw him playing Premier League football. Of all the supposed greats, it was Wright, Whitehead and Ricketts, arguably the least remarkable, that had the biggest and longest impact at the top of the game.

After Whitehead, Ricketts and Brooks, homegrown players seemed to play for mostly financial reasons. I remember those around me in the Oxford Mail stand talking enthusiastically about Alex Fisher, who scored on his debut, but ultimately needed a few more protein shakes to deal with the physicality of Conference football. Aaron Woodley was so highly rated that the usually cautious Chris Wilder fast tracked him into the first team to ensure that the club could get a fee from any sale to a bigger club. It never came.

During the Conference years, the strategy was never about developing players or anything long term, it was about securing the immediate return to the Football League and then, when that was achieved, out of League 2. Heroes were bought, not bred.

That is until last season, when financial constraints really began to hit once more. The club divested itself of the likes of Peter Leven and Michael Duberry and invested, instead, in a host of ‘Development Squad’ players, many of whom graduated into the first team and gave excellent accounts of themselves. Ian Lenagan’s new vision of a team of homegrown players seemed to be taking shape with Crocombe, Bevans, Marsh all giving good accounts for themselves, and Josh Ruffels and Callum O’Dowda, in particular, making legitimate claims to being first choice.

The pick of the lot, it seems, is Roberts. His goalscoring feats have been bubbling around the margins of the club for the last year or so. When he scored last week he tweeted that ‘it was just the start’; a typically alpha thing to say. Scott Davies crassly followed it up by saying that Roberts would soon be out of the club (and therefore onto greater things). The biggest question is whether he will do, a romantic might try to argue that Roberts is the latest line of great talents produced by the club. More cynical could argue, reasonably, that sustained and proper success have only been enjoyed by Wright, Rickets and Whitehead, of which only Whitehead's success was forged at Oxford. While we will all pray that Roberts does go on to greater things, perhaps even within Oxford, but as history tells us, when it comes to great white hopes, frequently the start is more often than not, swiftly followed by the finish.

It's not me, it's you - have I fallen out of love with the FA Cup?

A fourth tier team takes on a club from the second tier. They take them to a replay after an away draw. This is classic FA Cup stuff, and in the past our performance against Charlton would have been applauded. So why was it all so underwhelming?

Before we had children, in between boshing loads of ecstasy tablets and touring the world in a drunken blur on the back of a tuk tuk, obviously, we would occasionally have a Saturday night in with a DVD.

We’d only have one film and we only had one Saturday night, so before I was dispatched to our cupboard sized Blockbuster, we agreed a brief for what we would watch. Four hour historical epics about raping slaves always felt pretty heavy going for a Saturday night, so we’d invariably go for a comedy. That brief would eventually get refined further; belly laughs were unpredictable and used up too much energy, edgy comedy too hit or miss, dark comedy too subtle. We’d eventually settle on a RomCom.

And, for a period, that was all we’d ever watch. It offended no one; we were never particularly happy with it, but similarly never wholly disappointed. There was a familiar story arc that would rarely offend. But, by excluding all other genres, we were no longer film watchers; because we were watching one very specific type of film, we were RomCom watchers, and they're just not the same thing at all. 

I think that’s the point I’ve got to with Oxford; everyone who knows me would say I was interested in football, but I'm not so sure that I am. I'm interested in Oxford United, but I'm not sure that necessarily has much to do with the broader game.

When I was a child, football was the FA Cup – and I loved the FA Cup. The last day of the season, the only live game on TV, Wembley, the hallowed turf, extra time, rolled down socks, cramp, the spectacularly callous nature of semi-finals.

But, Oxford have never had much of a pedigree in the FA Cup. I remember us beating Brighton in 1981, and went to the 5th round game where we were beaten 4-0 at Coventry. But, a 1-0 win over Swindon in 2002 aside, we’ve never really had much to get excited about. Even in our all-conquering glory days, unlike the League Cup, we tended to surrender meekly to superior opponents.

So, I loved the FA Cup, in spite of the Oxford, not because of it. As a result I wasn't expecting much from Tuesday's game because I've never really associated us with that competition. The FA Cup is football and Oxford United is Oxford United. It's the same subtle difference between watching RomComs and watching films.

The problem is that my interest in the cup has withered in recent years. I can’t justify a whole day in front of the TV for the final, semi-finals at Wembley almost make the competition too easy, ITV’s coverage is risible and disinterested. Above all, there’s football everywhere, so even the most mundane Premier League fixture gets more hyperbole than the FA Cup finals of the past.

I can’t keep up with the modern football, I'm not against it per se, in terms of a pure breed strand of entertainment it's much better than it used to be. But, I genuinely can't keep pace with the latest player Chelsea and Manchester City have casually signed for £32 million. Players I’ve vaguely heard of and appear only bit-part players at their clubs suddenly rack up 30+ caps for England. Then there’s the international dimension; suddenly we’re expected to know how Wolfsburg’s left-back is against pace because Norwich are interested in him. Because I can't process this volume of content, I'm very passive and superficial in the way I consume the broader game nowadays.

As a result the competition we're playing in and the opponents we're up against is largely irrelevant. I'm interested in Oxford, but the FA Cup doesn't interest me like it used to. It's been 15 years since we went further, but this year never felt particularly thrilling. The first two rounds, against non-league opposition was about avoiding embarrassment. The postponements because Charlton haven’t upgraded their drainage system for 17 years – despite years swimming in Premier League millions – was like seeing how a magician does his tricks. How are we supposed to believe in the magic of the cup, when the drains are broken? Going 2-0 up in the first game was a moment of surprise, drawing was greeted with a shrug of the shoulders. The ticket prices for the replay were demoralising – could they not have at least pro-rataed the price for season ticket holders?

By the time I walked through the turnstile on Tuesday, there was no buzz of a giant killing in the air. We're too overwhelmed with football and just how BRILLIANT. EVERYTHING. IS. ALWAYS. Charlton Athletic just weren't sexy enough. I don't think any team outside the top half of the Premier League would have been sexy enough to increase the pulse. The crowd size and the attitude of the team suggests I wasn't alone in feeling underwhelmed by it all.

I only really have the bandwidth to process the comings and goings of one club, the rest of the game I can only really embrace superficially. As a result, the FA Cup has become just another game, which is a very very sad state of affairs.

Dean Saunders' winger's side-footed block tackle

Whether it was his unashamed bias, his rejection of video evidence or his invention of the  'wingers' side footed block tackle', Dean Saunders practically re-wrote the punditry rule book with his performance during our 2-1 win over Wrexham.

I like BT Sport’s mix of Premier and lower league domestic football along with its broad smattering from the European leagues. It's a more intelligent selection than Sky's binary focus on the Premier League and La Liga.

But, BT are facing the age old problem of how to cover the lower echelons and the early rounds of the FA Cup. They’ve clearly listened to the bleating of people like me who complain at the corporate distance of the top flight. Lower down, football is more ‘real’, that's what they need to capture.

Sky’s coverage of the Football League is just a pared down version of the Premier League big boys, so BT have gone grittier. Presenters get right in amongst the players and we get to see inside the dressing room. It's all designed to put the viewer at the heart of the game.

Getting 'in there' doesn't capture the gritty realism of 'real' football. There's a sense of theatre to football at all levels, the last thing you want is to have the myth of your gladiatorial heroes destroyed by having to look up your left back's shorts.

BT specialise in being overstaffed; Robbie Savage and David James, looking like Barbie and Action Man lookalikes hired for a corporate party, join Jake Humphreys for a wander around the pitch. There's a cameo from Mark Creighton, a regular in their non-league coverage, but on this occasion on duty in a Wrexham tracksuit, talking about his career coming to an end and at the same time offering a small dose of less-than-objective punditry. Dean Saunders is in the stands, but more of him in a minute.

James talks from a position of complete ignorance about Chris Wilder's application for the Portsmouth job (“Unbelievable situation”, Saunders said later – a man seemingly surprised and incredulous about the most mundane things). You have to ask yourself why they need so many people offering so little? It all seems a lot of effort for an game of this insignificance.

Then, just before kick-off, things slot into place, we’re treated to a weird in-game advert for Bet365 and Ray Winston barking like an east end criminal. He might as well be saying “Oi, fuck this lot, let’s make some fucking moolah”.

It's clear this type of game is basically a platform for gambling. Like those obscure horse racing channels broadcasting 24/7 with no real difference between one race and another. The scourge is in-game betting, which allows people to place money on fragments of the game. It means you're actually compelled to watch to see whether your bet comes off rather than simply wait until the end to find out the result.

In the context of the emerging match fixing scandal, you begin to wonder how pre-planned this stuff might be. In injury time Dave Kitson inexplicable draws a yellow card for kicking the ball away (‘Experience, taking one for the team’ said Dean Saunders) it's probably nothing, but it makes you wonder sometimes.

While not fixed; BT have written the general narrative of the fixture in advance. The double header of Gateshead and then Wrexham offered a decent chance of an upset. We were expected to negotiate a Skrill Premier minefield. The appeal of the fixtures were dependent on us losing one of them.

That’s fine; it's the par for the course. The art form, from a TV perspective, in the early rounds is spotting the potential fixtures which will evoke the magic of the cup and a giantkilling. But, once the decision is taken, the match should take care of itself. However, by the time we got to the Racehorse Ground, the game was devoid of balance and objectivity.

Wrexham started well, but they weren't as dominant as the commentators suggested, they had a chance which Saunders thought the striker should simply have prodded home ignoring that he was a good 6 yards away from the ball when it was played in. On the other hand, Johnny Mullins hit the bar; a fact completely ignored for the rest of the game.

Then there was the tackle; Saunders, at this point, simply lost all sense. Williams crumpled in a heap as Clarke slid into him. Not a foul, said Saunders. In fact if Williams had 'tackled properly' he wouldn't have hurt himself. It was a standard ‘winger’s side-footed block tackle’ reckoned Saunders. I've never heard of such a thing, but it appears to be the art of putting your leg in the way of a shin-high sliding leg breaker.

This released Saunders from any obligation to objectivity. We heard about 'Keatesy', 'Deano' and 'Clarkey'. Wrexham players who were 'unstoppable', 'unplayable', 'unbelievable'. Not to mention Andy Morrell, who could be the greatest player of them all. In essence, Wrexham were one of Europe's all-time greats according to Saunders. There was at least one occasion where he referred to them as ‘we’. Hmm.

Their goal, moments after the winger's side-footed block tackle, was a good one. It gave Wrexham a marginal advantage in a game where they were marginally better, but only marginally.

At half-time BT froze the tackle at point of contact. Williams’ leg contorted out of shape; showing how close he was to serious damage. “Slow motion makes everything looks a lot worse” said Saunders refusing to back down, and simultaneously breaking a decade of pundit lore by dismissing the all-healing powers of technology.

After an early fright, we controlled the second half. Williams gave us the lead and Saunders hopped over the fence. The killer ball came from 'Kitson obviously' - a player he'd criticised persistently throughout the first half. Moments earlier he had flicked away Constable’s excellent goal with the dismissive ‘well he’s a goalscorer, that’s what he does’.

Despite Saunders' belief that Wrexham were akin to Bayern Munich, the game was going to form. Wrexham were simply doing what Conference teams do. In League 2 teams tend to be erratic from game to game, in the Conference the variations are within games themselves. Wrexham had been good for a half, but struggled to sustain it. We, on the other hand, were good in both halves, but better in the second. A late Ryan Clarke save aside, we controlled the game. Given that Clarke would have been disappointed to let that one in, the fact he didn't made it a good rather than great save. He was just doing his job. The Wrexham 'threat' was muted.

The game went with form, ultimately, as these things usually do – which is why giantkillings can be so thrilling, because they’re rare. Afterwards, David James asked some clunky questions of James Constable, which he shrugged off as though in a challenge with an off-balance centre back. And we were through.

Maybe there's a market for heavily editorialised football coverage. There are few neutrals at a game of football, so TV is being noble but not empathetic by remaining neutral. That's how boxing usually works; there is a bad guy and a good guy. Perhaps that's how it should be; the presenters and commentators pick a side, like a fan, and present in a relentlessly bias way. I wouldn't mind that so much, if they tell me beforehand.

The great Gateshead Mandela dilemma

A joke is basically made up of two parts; both parts are truisms of some kind. The first part - the set up - provides some context for the joke; the second part - the punchline - in some senses appears logical, but provides an unexpected twist. The listener is wrong footed by the joke; tricked. That's what they find funny.

The replay against Gateshead was approached with a degree of excitement; we were on telly, which is pretty much enough to get us excited. What became abundantly clear from the early minutes of the game, was that for a number of reasons, this was going to be the worst game in the history of mankind.

In reality, as the days have passed, the performance appears marginally more impressive. The weather was terrible, it went to extra time and we ended with six under 20s. It wasn't nice to watch, but it was a job well done in adverse conditions.

Of course, most people would have looked at that fixture, quickly have reached the conclusion it wasn't up to much and not bothered to tune in. We, on the other hand, had something invested in the fixture.

As the game meandered on, there was admirable gallows humour flitting around Twitter. We drifted into the second half and the tweets faded to nothing. We were like a married couple on their first night out together after a new baby; after checking that the baby was OK, then joking weakly about how everything had changed, we eventually fell silent unable to muster any meaningful conversation. It felt like our souls were draining away.

Then, in an improbable turn of events, Nelson Mandela died. And that was awkward. We were presented with a dilemma; do you ignore it until after the game, acknowledge the death of a iconic inspiration then return to, what was by some distance, a trivial game or give up on the game as a mark of respect and join in the global grieving?

There really is no rule book on how to behave in such moments.

Then, of course, there was The Joke; Oxford v Gateshead was the set up; the Mandela death was, and I don't say this with any great pride, the punchline. Had the game finished him off? Was the combination of the worst game in the world and the death of Mandela the signal that we were entering a new dark age? Was the greatest tragedy of them all is that he died never knowing that Deane Smalley had put us through?

Now, when Oscar Pistorius shot Reeva Steenkamp on Valentine's Day with the defence that he'd done it by accident after being spooked by a noise, Jamie Cook tweeted:

Roses are red
Violets are glorious
Just don't go surprising
Oscar Pistorius

Was that too soon? It's not a joke that would have worked on any other day in history. He just had to get it out there. It was brave, potentially offensive, but it was funny.

Could we 'do' The Mandela Joke? We couldn't really even discuss whether we could do the Mandela joke. But it was there to be told. When was the last time Oxford were on TV at the same time a global icon died? I've had a look and we weren't even playing the night Rod Hull died.

But, here's the thing. If you're a global figurehead of peace, or even if you're a beatified communist, as Nick Griffin charmlessly tweeted, you're probably capable of distinguishing the difference between a light hearted joke and something offensive.

Griffin aside, who is evidently a gormless buffoon, Mandela's legacy is pretty much a given; BT Sport really didn't need to hurry away from their coverage in order to find out that Gary Mabbutt thinks he was a good man. Radio 5 Live dedicated practically all of Friday to people who had met him who would 'never forget it for rest of my life'.

As if people forget they've met Nelson Mandela.

"Did you ever meet Nelson Mandela."
"Um, er, no I don't think I did."
"What about this photo?"
"Wow, blimey, I don't know, I've got a memory like a goldfish"

So, I really don't see that solemn reverence is absolutely necessary when remembering someone's life; particularly when that life has been 95 years old. Context is everything, of course, but making a light hearted joke is not in itself offensive. And that's not just my guilty conscience speaking.