Eastbourne Borough 1 Yellows 0

“Enjoy this one, it’s the last one you’ll enjoy this season” said Jerome Sale prior to the meaningless defeat to Eastbourne. In saying this he revealed one of football’s secret conspiracies.

Some people enjoy the football’s aesthetic, but Tennis has a similar eye-catching quality. The game has some residual benefits of being out in the fresh air, and grabbing a beer or two. But so does rugby.

Sky would have you believe that football is about families gathering around the TV punching the air and patting each other on the back while maintaining big grins on their faces.

This myth means that people who hate the game believe that people who love it do so to spite them. That we go to games for some giddy hedonism and that we watch Soccer Saturday to get out of going to the shops or mowing the lawn.

We perpetuate the lie by convincing people that football is exciting. It helps us justify the illogical investment of time, effort and money. We’re rational normal human beings, but not when we go to football.

The truth is far, far different. Look around the stands of a real game and you’ll see grim faces and hollow eyes. People attend big games, because the only thing worse than being there, is not being there, waiting for sketchy news from the frontline.

A win, of course, brings its own ecstasy, but the process of football is agony. Big games, games of any meaning, are approached with a sick fear of failure.

Nobody enjoys meaningless games because they’re dull, but the idea that big games are enjoyable because of their high stakes misses the point completely. We’re football fans, good things don’t happen to people like us. Should we dare to hope? Should we prepare to despair? Should we just say ‘fuck it’ and deal with whatever is thrown at us?

Yellows 1 Wrexham 0

Tuesday night was like sending the boys off to war. Admittedly, with all the changes, it was like sending off the Catering Corps whilst the real soldiers scored big time with the local butchers’ daughter.

It’s certainly reassuring that we can more than just compete putting out a side like we did. I can’t be the only one whose mind drifted to 2007. Then we were being held together by bits of string and a dwindling ember of hope. Duffy and Burgess’ form had long deserted them, Rose and Yemi promised to threaten, but never did. Gilchrist was like a broken Action Man, Foster sidelined with a nasty leg-snap, Brevett and Johnson preoccupied with restocking on Werthers Originals and emptying their bedpans. We were a ragged unit, with only Billy Turley maintaining any form, and let’s face it, dignity.

This time around the second string can dismiss a startlingly average Wrexham side, whilst the big boys remain, despite all that’s happened, a force majeur.

Looking at it in the round, it’s been a spectacularly successful ‘regular season’, coining an increasingly popular Americanism as though we’re all having tailgate parties and supporting the Pittsburgh Steelers. Add in the likely six points from Chester, and you’re starting to look at a points-total that would have won us the title in years’ past. We have amassed, by a mile, the best points total since we’ve been in this godforsaken place.

Is it different this time? Last time the play-offs felt like we were visiting a curmudgeonly old uncle dying a slow diseased death. Compelled to visit, hating every minute, wishing to simply scream “I hate you, why don’t you just fuck off?”. This time it is different, like supporting a Colombian top flight team run by a drugs cartel; intense, exciting, but no less terrifying.

Yellows 2 Mansfield 0

In the dead of the night, Andy Burgess sits in his kitchen cupping hot milk and popping sleeping pills. His eyes, like saucers, his skin, sallow and pale.

“Curse my blessed talents” hisses Burgess as he sprays a melon from the fruit basket, out the window, and sixty yards to a cat screeching on a distant fence. “When will is ever end?”

How much does Andy Burgess hate playing football? He spends an unnatural amount of time goading Oxford, and then when he gets a chance to ram it down our throats he slouches around like a man who just wants someone to put in a leg breaker and relieve him from his prison of a professional football career. It’s not the first time either.

Any team that contains Andy Burgess, or a less effectual version of Jamie Slabber (Rob Duffy), hardly tests our credentials as play-off contenders, but the decisive win against Mansfield highlighted the winning formula we’ve been looking for.

It’s simple; control the opening stages with a set-up that accentuates power and strength, as the game progresses introduce creativity to exploit the opposition’s tiredness.

The solution is not pretty, but it’s effective. One characteristic we’ve never seemed to lose is the ability to control a game defensively. Individual mistakes have been made (Ryan Clarke against Tamworth), and we’ve lacked inventiveness, but in the main we’ve been defensively very tight – only conceding more than 1 goal on six occasions all season. Some will look at the goal count and point to that as a concern. It is, of course, we could all do with an easier ride, but the defensive record is a virtue that it frequently underplayed. We can go into the play-offs fearing nobody in this department.

We worry that we’re not scoring goals; but haven’t conceded in six hours. For me, three one-nil wins during the play-offs will do me, thanks very much.

Altrincham 0 Yellows 1; Yellows 0 Cambridge 0

Sorry, I zoned out there for a minute. Surely we can’t maintain the pretence that these games mean anything? I understand why people expect a performance every week regardless of whether we’re playing the Cup Final or a meaningless chunter away against Altrincham but sports science is fairly complicit that this simply isn’t possible.

A professional road cyclist can expect to maintain top form for around three weeks. Athletes are sacrificing world titles in order to peak for London 2012 and the concept of resting footballers is an accepted practice despite it being against all league rules.

In a regular league programme, each game counts, but now the objective is very very clear. We’re not good enough to turn our form on and off; nobody in the Conference can do that. But we shouldn’t write off our chances based on a few meaningless misplaced passes versus Cambridge.

Luton will cartwheel into the play-offs with a bewildering sequence of results. But, like our unbeaten streak at the start of the season, as it goes on it gets closer to an coming to an end. When it does, gnawing doubt sets in, why isn’t it quite flowing like it did? How do we do it when it worked? When Luton come out and don’t score six, their resolve will be truly tested. That day will come, and it’s not too far away.

The key is to peak for the play-offs, not thrash Cambridge (as cold and bloody boring as that game was). Defensively, we’re looking sound. Adam Chapman is finally coming into some form and filling the gap left by Adam Murray. Up front, we need to firmly decide who partners Constable. My vote, like many, I think, is with Jack Midson with Deering, Potter and Green best coming off the bench.

Luton will go in favourites, but sustaining their form for another three weeks gets less likely as time goes on. Rushden and York… who knows? We have three more games to fine tune, which will allow us to enter the play-offs on an upward curve, I think there’s some evidence that we will.

Yellows 1 Salisbury 0

Whilst I was panicking that a blocked nose was a sign of acute renal failure or some equally slow and painful death, a doctor once said to me a truism; that I shouldn’t worry because ‘common things are common’.

Truisms are true because they’re true. So, it is true that winning is simple, but difficult. Yesterday’s win over Salisbury, whilst lacking the technical quality of earlier in the season demonstrated the simple values of a winning team. A dominant defence prepared to take responsibility, a midfield working doggedly and an attack taking risks.

In a number of games recently we’ve tried to play with the force of our own abilities and reputation. We’ve ignored the key qualities; get these basics right and the results will come.

Here’s another one from Gordon Strachan; coaching is easy, management is hard. Coaching is to strive for perfection. Management accepts that perfection isn’t possible and finds a way around it. This ability to accept risk, absorb the pressure that comes with the uncertainty and give freedom to the players to play without fear is a role few master.

Chris Wilder’s only mistake this season is to try and mould the squad to perfection. Prior to Christmas he had a squad that were imperfect but effective. So, rather than trying to find the perfect centre back pairing or strike partnership, he should have been developing these players’ confidence to ignore their weaknesses, thus creating a sense of championship winning invincibility.

Look at Stevenage; are you telling me that a squad that contains Yemi, Tim Sills, Jon Ashton and Eddie Anaclet are perfect? No, they’ve focussed on what these players do well and worked around their weaknesses. Now any perception they have any weakness has all but evaporated and they are rocking onto the title.

The margins between success and failure are tiny; you try to improve the squad, but every time you do you risk destabilising it. Some have suggested that price of getting this wrong should be Chris Wilder’s head. If he fails to learn from the experience, then the question might be a legitimate one. But anyone who thinks that every mistake should be punished with the manager’s job is utterly barking mad.

And finally, one from Chris Hargreaves on the subject of our current position: “that’s football, it’s hard”. True that.

Hayes and Yeading 2 Yellows 1

It’s August and Oxford United head out for their annual ‘well-season’ health check-up on Harley Street.

“Ah, come on in Mr…” the doctor pauses as he riffles through a pile of records “United, so good to see you again, how are you?”

“Good” says Oxford United “Better than I have been for a number of years in fact.”

“Hmm” says the doctor barely listening “I see you’ve had a few problems in past seasons, but you’ve been following our advice, I trust. Well, let’s see how you’re getting on. Go behind the screen and whip your trousers off.”

Following much rummaging, poking and coughing, Oxford United emerges from behind the screen buttoning his shirt up.

“So, how’s it looking doctor?”

“Hmm, not too bad” said the doctor looking over his half moon glasses “Your Stevenage and Luton look OK given your past. Your Wimbledon looks OK, Crawley, Ebbsfleet… good, very good.”

“There is on thing” he continued after a pause “Your Hayes and Yeading is a bit off colour. Has it always looked like this?”

“Well, yes.” said United a little perturbed “I’m sure it has” The truth is he never really checked it. It didn’t look terribly important.

“OK, well it’s probably nothing. Keep an eye on it. If it becomes painful or changes shape, come straight back in”

Several months pass, Oxford United’s Hayes and Yeading starts to itch, go a bit hard, change shape. Oxford United ignores all this; everything else is fine, life is generally good.

Eventually United returns to the doctor.

“Well Doc, I’m feeling really good, but I thought you ought to have a look at this” he says revealing his Hayes and Yeading.

“EE GADS!” says the Doctor, forgetting his bedside manner for a moment.

Startled, United asks the doctor to explain.

“Well, that’s a text book example of Minnows Stabuinthearse. It’s a common complaint, basically it’s a very small part of your body, you probably don’t even know it exists when you look at it in August. But you need to look after it as you would your Stevenage or Luton. If you don’t, there can be complications…”

“And what does it mean Doctor?” Said United

The Doctor looked United in the eyes and spoke.

“Oh, you’ll be dead within by April.” He said.

Stevenage 1 Yellows 0

I’ll let you into a secret. I didn’t think we’d win the title. I wanted us to; for a while I believed we would. But the team I thought would win the title was… Stevenage. Last year I thought it’d be Burton, the year before that Aldershot. I would say ‘I told you so’ except, of course, I didn’t.

The Conference isn’t so much won as built up to. The league is made up of a handful of basket cases (Chester, Grays) who bring the whole show into farcical disrepute. A vast majority of the league is made up of hard working, well organised defensive units that can’t score. This leaves a bunch of clubs who are well organised defensive units with a striker – these will typically occupy the play-off spots.

This leaves just two clubs. There’s The Club. The Club are the team that came down and expect to bounce straight back through the sheer force of their personality. Us, Luton, Torquay, Wrexham perhaps. They come in and suddenly realise that the league is full of hard working defensive units that will take more than a Jedi mind-trick to break down. Distraught at being relegated, they suddenly expect all their troubles to melt away as they walk away with the title. Then they find out that they actually have to play and suddenly all their insecurities are revealed.

And finally there’s the team that wins the title. As Fred Westley said prior to yesterday’s game; their success reflects three or four years of hard work. It’s this stability, plus a hard working defensive unit, plus a striker, that will win you the title. Such is the fragility of the Conference, the challenge of maintaining stability for a couple of years is something only one club a season seems capable of.

We’re just 15 months from our last fallow period; we probably have another 6 months before we can realistically sustain a title bid. I thought for a while we bucked the trend, but the science caught us up eventually. The trick now is to avoid the temptation of slinging the year’s good work out the window. Build, build, build; that’s got to be the mantra.

Of course, where the science is thrown out of the window is during the play-offs. If we can shake the feeling of failure, it may suit us better. You don’t need to sustain the stability for months and we should go into any head-to-head confident that we can be successful. People shouldn’t be writing the season off just yet.

Of course, if we do make it to Wembley, it’s going to be against Luton isn’t it? And what a game that’ll be.

Yellows 2 Gateshead 1

When we eventually find out that the Premier League is, in fact, completely staged for the purposes of TV we will feel a little like we felt for most of today. We won’t be so much surprised but relieved and betrayed. Betrayed by the time and effort we’ve invested in it, but relieved that the hyperbolic and bullshit is, in fact, the product of scriptwriters not normal human behaviour operating in the real world.

For much of today’s win over Gateshead we seemed to be going through our paces; dominating, taking the lead, inevitably conceding in ‘controversial’ circumstances. Once that happened I think most people were envisaging that we’d trudge off to find that Stevenage and Luton had both had thumping wins ruling us out of the title race completely. Inevitable, as nothing good ever happens to us. Even James Constable admitted that he’d spent the last 10 minutes wondering what would be said in the changing room after the final whistle.

It was like we’d all conceded that the curse was in place and that, in some way, it was a relief to finally succumb to it. We thought we’d learnt the lessons of three years ago; strengthen when you can, don’t underestimate the opposition, don’t rely on ‘league quality’. We taken all the right actions and yet still we’re going to get pushed out of it. There was an acceptance that the conspiracy was complete and that it didn’t really matter what we did, we’d forever fall short.

Few seem convinced that Matt Green’s last minute winner was the turning point, but it’s nice that the Stevenage game still means something. And, if we can pull it out of the bag, then yes, suddenly the machine might splutter into life propelling us forward.

And this is how we go into Tuesday; unlike previous must-wins, there’s little anxiety of defeat, more a gentle hope of success. This could work in our favour. Or is that being too hopeful?

Rushden & Diamonds 1 Yellows 1

Straight after Wednesday’s draw with Rushden I got a message from a friend ‘hur-hur-ing’ our predicament: “Another season in the Conference then?” he mocked.

I replied, defiantly, that a) it wasn’t over yet and b) there was always the play-offs. I genuinely wasn’t disheartened by the result; in fact, the loss of an eight point lead at the top of the table doesn’t feel that bad. I wasn’t being defeatist, I still want us to go up, but I’m less worried than I have been about whether it’s via the title, play-offs or, indeed, in another season. I thought I might be alone in viewing the result as a reasonable effort in the circumstances.

I was wrong; the more respectable online outlets seemed rather encouraged by the display and result. There was a beatific calm about the fact we’d fallen further off the title race and gone another game without a win.

We’ve been so desperate to bring back the good times that we’re jerking and jamming the gears. But I sense a change of attitude, we will grow success and nurture it, it will happen when the time is right.

It was like the mother of a crack-addict diligently feeding her sick son soup and forcing methadone down his throat whilst he bellows insults and steals her money for another hit. Her love is so complete that nothing can hurt her. Likewise; the club can hurt us no more, we have no choice but to nurse it back to health. What would we do otherwise? Let it die?

So, breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. Centre your Chi. Don’t look at the table, just let the good energy flow. Bring on Gateshead, let’s go and beat them.

Tamworth 0 Yellows 0

One of the frustrating things about the current run is that it’s very difficult to pin point what’s going wrong. You can speculate about the changes of personnel or the supposed curse that says we’re destined to throw this away, but it’s not like we’re playing badly per se, we’re just not getting the results.

Perhaps it’s better to look at the season in a different way. The reason that the championship is awarded at the end of the season is because only then, when everyone has played everyone else, do you get the true picture of who is the best team. The league table at any other point in the season, is merely a distraction.

Look at the current ‘bad’ run: Hayes was the absolute shitter, undeniably bad; but then every team would expect one shitter a season. Manchester United lost to Burnley this year, Chelsea to Wigan that’s been their shitter. We shouldn’t be surprised to have one ourselves.

You’d expect to get the occasional away draw against dogged, unspectacular teams like Cambridge and Tamworth. You might, at some point in the season, also expect a team chasing the play-offs to escape the Kassam with a point, as Kettering did.

It just so happens that these games were drawn to be played together. Had they been scattered throughout the rest of the season, we wouldn’t be looking for reasons that it’s gone horribly wrong. We’d be here now knowing we were in a title fight.

Form and luck barely plays a part in the outcome of a season. When all the games have been played, the good teams are always at the top and the bad teams at the bottom. For every Luton disaster, there’s a Miracle of Crawley, for the points dropped against Kettering, there are points gained against York. If you’re a team that’s going to lose 5 games in a season, that’s what you’ll do – you may lose all five in a row, or one every six weeks, but in the end it’s your class will determine where you end up.

Looking forward, we can’t be shocked if we drop points against Rushden and Stevenage away, but we’d expect to beat Gateshead. After this, we have six games all of which look winnable whilst Stevenage have Luton, Wimbledon, Kidderminster and York, games where you might expect them to drop points. They may be building a reasonable lead at the moment, but, unlike us they haven’t played all the nasties.

Anyone who thought we’d be walking it by now was being naïve. A vast majority of league titles are won in the last couple of games a season, why shouldn’t we expect it to be the same here?

Yellows 1 Kettering Town 1

There are few more endearing images in Oxford’s history than Nick Harris at the Milk Cup Final patrolling the Wembley running track with an enormous portable radio transmitter on his back. Nowadays that amount of technology can be fitted into your average iPod Shuffle, back then it was like seeing a lower league funded moon landing.

Perhaps this is what inspired Radio Oxford to employ (Kass Stad) Kate Adams as a post-match roving reporter. Unlike Nick Harris, Adams is a pretty blonde, which seems like a low pre-requisite for a radio career. I guess the boys – who you get the impression don’t tend to talk to girls much – like having her around; you’re only as young as the woman you feel and all that.

There is presumably a panel of linguists and football historians working on the questions she asks of passing fans. The sheer banality of her approach cannot be the work of one person alone.

On Saturday she asked “We’ve got one point against Kettering, is that enough?” (or something). One punter, no doubt dragging his fists along the floor as he hauled his club foot towards her, claimed that the Kettering result was proof that we wouldn’t even make the play-offs.

Now, I know better than to take any notice of this carnival of morons, but this view seemed indicative of those being shared around the ground.

But let’s think this through, the Hayes result was a freak, everything about it was so strange that it’s difficult to include it in any reasonable analysis. Kettering, on the other hand, have the best away record in the league, and on this basis it wasn’t unreasonable to think that a draw was a possible, even likely, outcome.

There was comment that we needed Constable, Murray and Potter back. Well, those three haven’t played together for two months. To lose players like them is going to have an impact, you can’t just replace them like for like.

Some people have thrown in the towel even though there’s we’re one point short with a quarter of the season still to play. And the only team that are close to us, Stevenage, are demonstrating form no team in any league would live with.

And, even if the title is beyond us, there’s a route to the Football League via the play-offs – surely it’s by any means possible.

Fans are rarely objective enough to be self critical, but if we’re to throw our toys out of the pram every time things start to turn against us, then we’re deserving of everything we get. If we can’t win the title by 15 points, well, we don’t want to play anymore. We can’t claim to be loyal Oxford fans simply because we’re prepared to turn up to games when it’s a bit chilly.

Yellows 1 Hayes and Yeading 2

There was one discussion lighting up the Grenoble Road following yesterday’s masterclass in abjectness. Chris Wilder is losing the plot with a glut of loan signings few can see we need.

It’s totally unfair to damn Wilder on the basis of this defeat given what he’s achieved in the last year or so. And the knee-jerk reaction from many is hopelessly irrational. However, there is an uncomfortable truth that Wilder plays a high-risk game.

Look back to the end of last season. Having steered the team to the brink of a miraculous promotion, he disbands the team almost in its entirety and rebuilds again. Then at Christmas he breaks up a back four that conceded but a handful of goals. Then he has four or five proven forwards, but insists on signing Franny Green and John Grant.

Chris Wilder is a tinker, how many times have we seen players jogging across to the touchline to be given another minute tactical tweak. Are we to believe that the likes of Hayes & Yeading are so tactically sophisticated that constant adjustments are needed to slay them?

Nope, I think that Wilder’s tinkering is his nervous tick. He just can’t leave things alone. Claudio Ranieri was the same; he couldn’t leave his team alone. Mostly Ranieri was a successful manager, but he famously overcooked his twiddling at a Champions League Semi-Final against Monaco in 2004 that eventually cost him his job.

Like Ranieri, Wilder’s tinkering got the better of him last night. His constant re-dealing of the pack will inevitably produce a duff hand eventually. Yesterday was a case in point; a combination of tinkering with the loan system, injuries and suspensions produced an insipid performance. But worst still, when it was going wrong, there was no proven plan to fall back on – the playbook is too full.

Had there been more stability he could have called a plan B that the players could have confidence in. Instead they ended up playing yet another system with players who’ve barely met before. It’s difficult to know how you can dominate a game when you’re still working out who the bloke to your left is. This might not have been the single cause of last night’s debacle, but it was a big influence on our ability to rectify the position we found ourselves in.

But, let’s look at the positives. Yes, we have a squad with almost too much choice, inviting Wilder to fiddle endlessly with. But it is one with the quality to take the title. The margins have narrowed, but the title is still in our hands. Stevenage are on a hell of a run, but they have a lot of games and a similar history of choking. Don’t tell me that they won’t feel the pressure. And, above all, for all his fiddling, Chris Wilder gets it right far more often than he gets it wrong. This isn’t over.

Yellows 2 AFC Wimbledon 0, Cambridge United 1 Yellows 1

Football is obsessed with tactics. Managers are ‘tactical geniuses’ or ‘tactically naive’, games and seasons are changed by a smart substitution and a referee needs to get the ‘big’ decisions right.

Constant and interminable discussions of tactical minutia are conveniently media friendly. You won’t get much discussion of strategy; it’s too involved, takes too long and is possibly too white collar for the sport’s working class pretence.

Talk of the strategy of football is coming into stark contrast with Manchester United’s debt problem and Portsmouth going into administration. It seems to be a surprise to some that strategic decisions have a direct influence on what happens on the pitch. To paraphrase Alan Hansen, football is supposed to be about grit, passion, determination, belief and a whole host of similarly hollow nouns, not sound investment and acquisition strategies.

The inconvenient truth is that you reap what you sow. Without a strong strategic base a clever substitution or having a man playing in the hole will not generate long term benefit. As much as Steve Bruce will tell you different, Sunderland are not a top four team who have had a few bad refereeing decisions go against them.

What’s that got to do with us? Well, our strategy is well and truly locked in; a been-there-done-that squad has been built and financed. The large customer base has been utilised through the 12th Man scheme (as opposed to battled and bullied against under the Kassam regime). 80-90% of the meaningful decisions that will affect the outcome of the season have been made. There is little more for anyone to do, but to sit back and see whether this is enough.

The destiny of the season is already all but decided. We shouldn’t panic about the draw against Cambridge in the same way we shouldn’t get carried away with the win against Wimbledon. The hard work has been done; Chris Wilder is right, this is now about points accumulation. When we remove our hands from our eyes on April 24th, we’ll see whether our strategy was good enough.

Yellows 1 Rushden and Diamonds 0

James Constable is an instinctive footballer, a renegade and a maverick. If you put a false construct around him, he twitches and fights against it; like a child yanking defiantly at his school tie.

Take the rules of football; confronted with those, he expends huge amounts of energy fighting against them. His arms outstretched, his head tossed back, bickering and picking up bookings.

As a captain he cuts a figure of frustration. By contrast, Chris Hargreaves ‘facilitated’ the sending off of Bygrave against Histon. He empathised with the referee, gesturing as if to say ‘we can’t be tolerating such insolence’. He understands his role is to make friends with the authority figures, representing his team’s views, getting decisions to work his way.

Contrast this with Constable’s skippering during the win over Rushden. He’s the consummate child pulling against the fussy and officious referee ‘parent’. The referee displays none of the respect and empathy he showed with Hargreaves, instead he treats Constable like a baby, ignoring his tantrums, and therefore his position as the representative of the team.

And then, of course, there are penalties. This is the most constrained way of scoring goals. Presented with the need to go through a learnt process of putting the ball in the net from a spot twelve yards from the goal is not in his nature. See, by comparison, Chapman, who benefits from having no brain of any note. The endless gamesmanship by Rushden had no effect on Chapman, he probably wasn’t aware that it was in anyway related to him and what he had to do. If you threw a ball at Constable and told him to stick it in the net without thinking, then he’d do it every time. Get him to constrain his exuberance and energy and he’s not nearly as effective.

Constable needs to be freed from these constraints; leading the team and taking penalties. Even leading the line, he’s much more effective when playing with a footballer like Midson who can give him a platform that allows his natural talent and instinct for goals to flow.

Yellows 2 Histon 0

It was a symbolic act parading Sam Deering around at shoulder height after his goal. Aside from looking like the player of the season trophy for a Sunday League team, his presence on the field may be a defining factor this season, although not for the reasons most people think.

Deering is revered in the stands, and Chris Wilder was once on record as saying that he was the most talented player in the squad. Yet, he hasn’t proved much of a goalscorer, nor a goal provider. Statistically, he’s not been much of a player. That said, he does put defences under constant pressure – a characteristic of yesterday’s win against Histon.

But, Deering’s role transcends his position on the pitch. He represents the man in the stands – if he’s alright, we’re alright. He’s (sort of) homegrown. He’s young and small and nippy. He’s a cheeky, chirpy, (sometimes racist), chappy. He proved that the God of Flukey Dead-ball Goals that so cruelly smited us on Tuesday, is an even handed overlord.

He gives the fans a focal point through which to channel their energy, and because he’s so charismatic, the energy is typically positive. It meant that the likes of Hargreaves, who was sensational yesterday, and Midson were able to grind away and establish a foothold in the game which others – Tonkin in particular, were able to exploit.

The Oxford crowd is notoriously edgy and with the scores level at half-time it would have been easy for the post-Luton panic to seep onto the pitch. But Deering’s presence kept the baying crowd back until we regained our step. We are the best squad in the league and the title has been in our hands all along, the fans can draw us away from that fact. Every game from here on in is ‘crucial’, but there is no need to fear any one of them. Deering is the regulator of our expectation.

Luton Town 2 Yellows 1

Contrasting views of our last minute capitulation against Luton last night. The normally objective, measured and authoritative Rage Online saw us deservedly go down with a whimper, whereas most other reports seem to suggest that the performance was pretty good with a nightmarish end. Like the extended DVD edition of Lord of the Rings.

Everyone’s reality is different. There are those who view this as clear evidence of The Collapse – the prophesy that says, post-Christmas, any good work will be undone leading to untold misery. Some think that we’ll slip out of the play-off positions, some see us being beaten at Wembley by Luton, others view this as a blip; a hard one to take, but a blip none-the-less.

Last year, we were galvanised by a common foe – the league administration itself. We recognised that it was us against the world and we were all the better for it. The flags came out, the team went from being average and ponderous to all conquering.

Well, this is where the season starts and that character needs to return; the title is a three-way race. We have a little head start and everyone is going to want to shoot us down. It is time to enjoy that pressure; I would rather be chasing the title as a non-league team than be in mid-table misery in any other division. It’s exciting; the prospect of success, the tightrope that we walk to get to it, the bubbling molten lava of failure. The balance beam of hope. By God this is where we want to be, in the mix, sucking in the pressure, taking the blows, getting up and going again. Christ, if Stevenage or York want to get this title, then they'll have to break records to do it, we'll make them sweat blood. We’re a better squad than we were last year and we have more to play with. It’s time to add some swash to our buckle. Let’s just get it on.

Where to now? I take a lead from Malcolm Boyden – and I don't do that very much - on Saturday I’m going to put on my shirt and scarf, go to the ground and roar the bloody roof off.

Yellows 0 Kidderminster Harriers 0

With Turley, Creighton, Midson, Hargreaves and Green on the bench, this wasn’t a team that had strength in depth more than one that was bursting at the seams. Has there ever been an Oxford manager with such a (pound-for-pound) embarrassment of riches at his disposal?

The challenge is how to fit them all in. Yesterday’s draw with Kidderminster was a case in point. Constable was knocking the ball down to Deering, who would, in turn, try to pick out Constable only to find the striker 15 yards behind the play recovering from his original knock down.

Or Deering would be found naturally drifting out to the wing where Potter was detailed. Or Cook would be both providing balance on the other wing and trying to pull the strings Murray-like in the middle. There was nothing fundamentally wrong with what any of them did, but it was a mess of ideas.

The introduction of Hargreaves and Green simplified things greatly with two holding midfielders, wingers providing balls for the two strikers to latch on to. By that time, however, the game was concentrated into half-an-hour and the breakthrough never came. Constable’s two game ban may not be such a disaster, at least it eases the decisions that need taking up front.

To sacrifice structure and discipline for a galacticos policy of flooding the opposition with talent seems a bit back to front at this level. If you’re chasing the game then throw the kitchen sink at them, but surely you start by suffocating their threat and enthusiasm.

Chris Wilder is rightly irritated by suggestions that things aren’t going well, we’re top of the league with two games in hand, for heaven’s sake. However, comments like “people want us to play with wingers and we’ve done that…” suggest he’s bowing to the pressure of criticism. It’s his team, and he should be free to put together an eleven that will grind out results. His strength has always been to see things clearly and make simple decisions - more than keeping players and fans happy, this is the quality we need more than ever at this stage.

Grays Athletic 0 Yellows 4

There will be a time, sometime in the future, when things aren’t going so right, when people will compare an ineffectual midfielder as ‘another Simon Clist’. But this will be immensely harsh. Back in 1996 we had two Simon Clists – Dave Smith and Martin Gray, both much derided in their day. I know I could be alone in pining for such quality and guile in the years since they side-passed the hell out of opponents on the way to promotion.

Clist is the least spectacular of our midfield trio, with Murray’s passing and Bulman’s workrate both widely recognised. Clist is the man who does their housekeeping. When a ball squirms loose, Clist is there to pick it up and get it back under control. Away from home, when it comes loose, he takes off his pinny, puts on his prettiest dress and pops up to score – as he did in the routine demolition of Grays yesterday.

It’s Clist who must be under greatest scrutiny with the, surely inevitable, return of Braveheart Hargreaves. However, it’s difficult to see how it’s all going to fit together. In his pomp Hargreaves was in the Bulman mould, so do we need two brawlers in there? Even in his last season with us, Hargreaves was guilty of lunging tackles resulting from being fractionally behind the game – the years since will surely have slowed him further.

But, there is another side. Hargreaves is a man of obvious experience. More than this, he is a man of integrity and intelligence. Reading his blog, especially recently, has demonstrated how deeply he thinks about his career and its future. His influence in calming everyone’s nerves as the season draws to the close, could be invaluable.

Murray, alongside Constable, are reminiscent of the Mitchell Brothers; controlling the game through the force of their personality. Bulman, for all his bustle, is so focussed on his own game that to have to nursemaid others will be an unwelcome distraction. Perhaps what Hargreaves will lack in ability, he will make up in his influence to steer us through to the title. But, if he does, Clist’s contribution shouldn’t be forgotten.

Yellows 0 Tamworth 1

That must be what the first game of the season would feel like if you played no pre-season friendlies. It was how Russell Brand describes wearing new shoes; for a while if feels like they’re wearing you.

It all started down the left; Franny Green has great endeavour and a good attitude, but his talents are all about raw energy and pace. This put pressure on Tonkin to provide balance – while he settled as the game went along, he looked uncomfortable in the opening exchanges. This, in turn, put pressure on Wright – who was under greatest scrutiny – and he looked uncertain throughout. The confusion on the left meant Creighton had to hold things together, not least because Chapman, once again, put in a decidedly half-hearted performance.

Tamworth exploited it brilliantly. Christie bullied the nervous defensive unit, which meant at no point in the first half did we settle. They got the jammy goal and dug in. I don’t blame the referee, you can’t say he didn’t acknowledge their time wasting with bookings and injury time.

What is surprising was that Wilder was prepared to take such a risk by making such a wholesale changes all in one area of the pitch. The Foster situation makes his selection untenable. Tonkin’s acquisition has had such a fanfare that it would have been odd not to include him. Whether Franny Green is un-droppable, it open to debate. Not that he was the worst player on the pitch, but you have to look at these things as a unit.

It’s still not like 2006/7 – as effective as Tamworth plan was in its execution, they needed luck at both ends to make it work. Other teams might come to the Kassam with the same gameplan but will get nowhere near us. However, people’s belief that this is the start of the collapse, may yet destabilise us.

Salisbury 1 Yellows 1

Blimey, talk about the wisdom of crowds; there isn’t anything the Oxford United public doesn’t know about stadium management, matchday profit margins, groundsmanship, frost, blown pitch covers and leaky sprinklers. The messageboards have been awash with such discussion, even Radio Oxford, with time to kill and a skeleton staff on hand, dedicated a whole sports special to it.

Frozen Pitch-gate can now be filed next to Complacent Against Eastbourne-gate and Wilder Dissing the Fans-gate in this season’s folklore. Can we now get on with the real matter at hand? That of irrational panic.

It seems a bit churlish to predict our inevitable post-Yule slide based on us taking a one point over the Christmas period when only three have been on offer. Even if we let slip a win with the last minute equaliser against Salisbury.

The single premise upon which these jitters lie is that we always collapse post-Christmas – look at what happened three years ago. The parallels are evident.; the big Boxing Day game which ended in an anti-climax, followed by a disappointing draw, then there was a New Year’s Day defeat and no win until the middle of February. It feels like Groundhog Day. It’s ‘fate’. We’re fucked.

Except the only person left from those days is Billy Turley. Oh, and us. We can’t be blamed, of course, we’re perfect. So the inevitable failure that has no sign of happening must be Turley’s fault.

The loss of the big Boxing Day payout is clearly a blow to the business, but it may play to our advantage on the pitch.

The Rushden game was only afforded ‘big’ status by virtue of its date. Like Christmas day itself, for all its build up and anticipation it was always likely to be a bit flat simply by being too normal. The effective cancelling of Christmas should allow us to focus on success in April, not December.