Who is James Constable?

We left Torquay at 9.15am on Saturday arriving home just in time to listen to us winning back in, er, Torquay. It was a bit back to front, I suppose, but we couldn't work the logistics of managing the family's collective sanity, plus a car with a week's worth of holiday paraphernalia and over £8 of plastic crabbing gear. As we headed north up the M5, we coo'ed at a Motts coach going in the opposite direction; flashes of yellow beyond the tinted, or perhaps dirty, windows, suggested inside were Oxford fans going in the 'right' direction.

The result, of course, was another win, our 9th goal of the season, our six different goalscorer and, most notably, a first from James Constable. Constable's goal was a wonder, but it was greeted in the same way that local neighbours do on DIY SOS when seeing a renovated house for a family beset with illness and other misfortune. The reaction didn't suggest that this wasn't really Constable doing what he does; the goal, like the renovation, was 'so deserved' given what he's been through.

It's never been a barrier to those who phone Radio Oxford, but I'm not qualified to make meaningful comment on professional football, I haven't played organised football since I was at school. I can't qualify my views by saying things like 'I've played the game at a high level of the North Witney Veterans Monday Night 5-a-side league'.

I don't know if there's the concept of first and second teams anymore. At school, excluding goths, there were about 20 boys willing to play football. The first team consisted of capable sporting boys; there wasn't a long tail from which a second team could be created; in the vernacular of Saved By The Bell the second team were dweebs and nerds. I remember one asking to play striker because that's what was written on the Gola boots his mum had bought.

It's difficult to know whether there's a first and second team at Oxford. We have a development squad; which may be the reserves, or the youth team, or neither of these. Perhaps managers don't think of first teams; Chris Wilder is known to relegate players from a winning line-up right out of the following match day squad. Sometimes there seems no relationship between selection and performance. Perhaps players are selected to tactical requirements.

Against Bury Chris Wilder reinstated four players he'd left out against Charlton; one might reasonably assume that they had been rested. One of the four who made way was James Constable.

Constable is or was the quintessential star striker for Oxford; he captained the team, scored the goals, took the penalties and generally set an example to the players around him. Through Twitter, he also proved himself a nice balanced guy and, through his rejection of Swindon's overtures, loyal too. If modern Oxford United could be described as one person, it would be James Constable. And we needed him, the club spent more than a decade enduring players we felt no more than a duty to support, but who frustrated and underwhelmed.

What role does Constable play in Wilder 2.0? Or is it Lenagan 1.0? It might be my imagination, but Wilder seems to have been taken out of the firing line and the club is moving towards being less reliant on one man. The new era, is emerging is a new spine on the pitch; Clarke, Mullins, Wright, Whing, Kitson and Smalley. But not Constable.

Spiritually, everything that Constable was, he still is, but he's not a goal machine. Despite his strike against Torquay, you can't rely on him to grab a goal in a tight game. You'd rely on him to work hard from box to box, he's a exemplary representative of the club. But can the club sustain a well paid ambassador who spends much of his time on the bench? And does Constable want to play that role?

He's entering an interesting period in his career; at 28 he won't necessarily be able to rely on his natural physical attributes - pace and strength will slowly begin to desert him - he may need to think about new ways of sustaining himself physically. In addition; in a few weeks will be a father for the first time. If he needs to remodel his game; in the way Alan Shearer did when his injuries began to take their toll, he'll be doing it during the emotional and physical chaos of a new baby.

Economics aside, I've no doubt that Chris Wilder would keep Constable. He still represents many of the core values of the squad and provides a link to where we've been (and never want to go back) and where we are, and between the senior squad and the development squad - many of whom will have watched and admired Constable as children, presumably. But it's hard to imagine him returning to that player who would not only score lots of goals, but at the right time too. Wilder has managed to unpick himself from that Constable dilemma where he would almost obliged to pick Constable, because if he didn't and we lost, it's because our 'star striker' is on the bench. That's not really Constable's role anymore.

So, is Constable a back-up striker? One of a group of strikers who will be used according to form throughout the season? Some kind of spiritual force within the squad? Or a spare wheel and relic from our recent past. While his history assures him legend status in the future, his current position remains uncertain.

Calling out for an unsung hero

The Radio Oxford phone-in is like crack, you know it's not good for you, but there's something that can't stop you from taking part. On Saturday after the draw against Torquay, Dougie, a regular I think, came on to put his point across. Lenegan was a liar, Dougie said, he lied when he said he couldn't spend any more on players because of the salary cap. Because Dougie knows better; he could spend more, if he put more money into the club. Which reminded me of the Paul Merton joke about the Olympics; they had to double the budget in order to come in under budget.

Jerome Sale, who is always good in these situations pointed out that the salary cap was in place to prevent clubs from chasing an unrealisable dream. Endless spending puts you in a falsely elevated position; like Portsmouth or Luton. Swindon did it, said Dougie. To which Sale pointed out that the chairman had been removed and they had been placed under a transfer embargo as a result.

Now, the natural law about Oxford United is that the longer any debate goes on, the more heated it gets, the more likely that someone will mention Firoz Kassam. Dougie was on the defensive and blurted out that Lenegan is just another Kassam. All he wanted was the stadium and surrounding land. To which the slightly exasperated Sale responded that Lenegan didn't own the stadium and the surrounding land. Which makes Lenagan at least one stadium and surrounding land less than Kassam. What he didn't mention, but could have, is that he's also largely given up on acquiring it in the short term. If Lenagan's only interest is the facilities, he's going a pretty terrible way about it.

Just before Dougie, was an American interloper who has been working in the area and following our fortunes in recent weeks. Despite occasionally sounding like a Floridian life-coach he offered perhaps the most intelligent assessment of us I've heard in years. Fans are inconsistent, said The American, fans do the easy bit in celebrating success, but are hysterical when things don't go our way. It is very difficult to find consistency when one key component is so bloody inconsistent.

Amongst the many things I've been thinking about doing with this blog but never get round to is a series on unsung heroes - in which I will make a case for Joe Burnell. It strikes me that we don't currently have an unsung hero. Inconsistency has blighted us this season on and off the pitch; one of the things unsung heroes offer is a steadying hand. During our last two promotions key to our success has come from an unsung hero. In 2010, Simon Clist regulated the surges of energy that came from Dannie Bulman and Adam Murray and back in 1996 Stuart Massey got the ball down and passed when the temptation was pump the ball up to Paul Moody. There was more thrilling talent elsewhere in the team, but Massey and Clist offered an understated, but essential, contribution to our successes.

On Tuesday, when we flip flopped to defeat against Dagenham a lot of the focus was on our inability to defend corners; and specifically (and probably rightly) the decision to play Raynes over Mullins. But while we dithered, nobody took control and took us back to basics. On Saturday we barely registered a performance in the first half and pounded them in the second. But we needed someone to regulate Peter Leven's indulgences; which, at the moment, seem to involve waiting for the game to slow down enough for his prodigious talents to flourish.

Similarly, we need someone to regulate Adam Chapman's complacency. Chapman's problem is that he doesn't care. This is a virtue sometimes; during big games he just plays without fear of the consequences, for example; Wembley, Swindon at home and the penalty he scored against Rushden in the Conference when we were going through a particularly scratchy time. Late last season he described his productive relationship with Asa Hall as having a laugh trying stuff out. This is just what we need when the pressure is on. But then, like on Tuesday, sometimes Chapman needs to play percentages to give us some rhythm.

Cox, I think, is supposed to be the one to play this role, but it needs some serious personality to exert influence in the squad that's needed. He hash't yet grabbed the midfield as firmly as he needs to.

The obvious candidate for this role is Andy Whing, not exactly unsung, but someone who has improved us, even from his Siberian posting out of the right. If we can get Damian Batt healthy then perhaps Whing can move into the middle to give the creatives something to work off. Of course, continually having to stir the pot is a central theme of our season. In the meantime weeks drift by and we're still floating around at the foot of the table.

The good news is that every other team seems to be in a similar position regarding inconsistency. Automatic promotion seems beyond us, but it still looks like there's going to be an almighty shit fight for the play-offs. If we can find our unsung hero, we might just replicate the successes of '96.

Don't let perfection become the enemy of the good

The palpable sense of entitlement; something I thought we’d cleansed ourselves of during three years in the Conference, is returning.

We’re four scrappy, intense, ugly games from the play-offs. Another two from Wembley. And another one from League 1.

And yet, after two defeats and the last minute draw against Torquay on Monday, people are hurumphing that, even if we do make the play-offs, it is, as one person put it on Radio Oxford, just papering over the cracks.

Or, put another way, even with promotion still achievable, even if we do go up, it won’t have been done in the right way.

Apparently, it's not the Oxford way to scrap our way to success. It's just not very becoming to be dragging our bodies over the line, despite having a squad picked apart by injuries and suspensions.

Yes, there are credible arguments to have about discipline and levels of fitness, or the wisdom of signing 36 year old defenders or relying so much on James Constable's goals. But none of these discussions are for now.

The solutions offered on Monday included Ian Lenagan 'putting his hand in his pocket' and Chris Wilder not relying so much on loanees. Both arguments are as unjust as they are pointless. Of the top seven, only Torquay have less loanees and in between transfer windows Chris Wilder has limited options when it comes to improving his team. And Ian Lenagan has put his hand in his pocket, investing another £200,000 in the squad this year. But, quite rightly, he is not going to bet the farm on getting promotion.

The desire to create the perfect club, whilst still in the midst of a very good season, is a pointless distraction.

Adam Chapman, whose confidence and influence is surging to the fore as the games get more tense and macabre, summed up the mood in his interview post-Torquay. Rather than being incarcerated amongst the wretches of society, wracked with the guilt of killing a man, he’s playing football with a chance of getting to Wembley and having a laugh trying out new things with Asa Hall. The joie de vivre with which those two approach games is been evident in their fantastic performances of late.

I doubt that Michael Duberry, 19 years a professional and probably no more than 13 months from never playing professionally again, is thinking that he'll forgo this season's push for a more aesthetically pleasing run some time in the future.

And I doubt that Scott Rendell, having experienced unimaginable tragedy, is thinking that we should give up a opportunity for brief, fleeting, visceral joy to serve some self-important serious football idyll.

No, we shouldn’t ignore the underlying weaknesses in the club, but, for now, failure is not missing the play-offs; failure is not relishing the battle.

Just over six years ago we played Darlington; I drove into the car park and found a space in the row nearest the Oxford Mail stand. It was 20 minutes before kick-off and there were plenty of other spaces I could have chosen. It was cold, beyond my ticket, I had long given up spending money in the stadium out of apathy rather than protest. I sat and listened to the radio before walking into the Oxford Mail stand with five minutes to spare. We played with four centre-backs, and no style, Neville Roach and Mark E'Beyer were substitutes. We lost 2-0 on our way, of course, to relegation.

Sometimes, before the bigger games, I quietly and jokingly lament the ease with which you could park during the latter Kassam years. Even though our parking remains Conference level as best, everything else about our situation has improved. At least we're not doing a Darlington.

We're not as slick a machine as we want to be, we're not turning teams over with the effortlessness of The Glory Years. We're a band of ragged desperadoes battling against the odds. It may not be The Oxford Way, but it is this season's way. Those without the appetite for the fight might find more satisfaction in following a club seeking some unachievable perfection whilst drifting from one meaningless mid-table season to another.

Torquay United 0 Oxford United 0

It seems fitting that Saturday's welcome non-event at Torquay concluded 2011 seeing that it was at Plainmoor that the year was ignited. With literally nothing to write about from the game, it seems the perfect opportunity to use that trusted device the American sitcoms use from time to time. Yup, let's review the year with a few flashbacks.


Man of the year: Michael Duberry
Over a 12 month period, there is one player who stands imperious over others. It is amazing that only now people are talking about Ryan Clarke as a potential transfer target for clubs at a higher level. James Constable rightly takes on the role of talisman at the club, but barely a game goes by Clarke making a match winning, or saving, save, some of which are world class. To date, he's saved 57% of the penalties he's faced, which is remarkable when you consider that on average only 18% of penalties are saved by the goalkeeper.

But, despite being at the club for only about 5 months - two where he's been injured - no other player has had a greater impact on the club than Michael Duberry. Despite Clarke's brilliance, last year conceding goals was our forte. Duberry has come in and instantly shored up a leaky back four.

But more than that, he's 36, he's played at a much higher level, he's been subjected to the ugly side of football and yet he remains enthusiastic, positive and committed. An intelligent and thoughtful player. It would be so easy to get carried away with his relative celebrity, but you cannot be anything but impressed by his performances both on and off the pitch.

Game of the year: Miracle of Plainmoor
The Swindon game seems the obvious candidate for the game of 2011. It extinguished a 38-year barren run of results at the County Ground. They tried to unsettle our star striker only for the star striker to ram their bullshit right back down their throats. The pantomime villian of the piece got his comeuppance. It even got my write-up about the game some coverage on the Guardian website.

But, the Swindon game was almost too perfect. It was pure theatre, there was a performance with a happy ending - it was almost too scripted.

So, for masochists like me, the game of the year was the aforementioned Miracle of Plainmoor in January. It wasn't just the 4-3 away win, it was more about the subtext. There wasn't a stage or a performance, it was a mundane nothingy fixture. And that's what makes it such a magnificent story.

With the December calendar decimated by snow, we returned to action after nearly a month without a game with a lingering fear that we were about to have a post-snow collapse similar to the one we had 12 months earlier. But, we beat Macclesfield and it seemed that we'd retained our form.

Then, the world collapsed around our ears at home to Southend. An apopleptic Chris Wilder made 8 changes to the starting line-up for the away trip to Torquay a few days later. This included Jack Midson, who was returning from the WILDERness to lead the line at the expense of James Constable. But was Wilder's anger about to get the better of him?

We raced to a 2-0, then 3-1 lead, before entering injury time all square. Then, Midson skipped through and snuck home the winner and complete his hat-trick. Moments later, Steve MacLean stood on the ball in celebration - the picture of the year.

Tour of the year: US tour 
OK, not exactly a lot of competition in this category, but the US tour this summer was brilliant. Timed to coincide with that point in the summer when you actually think you should start trying to work out the point of cricket, the tour of the US happened and it was like going back to the days of Roy of the Rovers.

With games kicking off at 11pm at night, no TV coverage and just the radio connecting you to the games, it felt like they were being played on the moon. A big adventure.

Twitter also came into its own, whether it was following the players onto the plane or the chairman chastising Dean Smalley's finishing via the club's official feed. A PR masterstroke.

Feature of the year: Kassam All Star XI
Perhaps the most startling thing about the Kassam All Star XI series is that I actually finished something I started. Celebrating, if such a thing is possible, a decade at the Three Sides of Hell, the Kassam All Star XI recognised the best the stadium has seen:

Turley, Ricketts, Crosby, Creighton, Robinson, Clist, Bulman, Whitehead, Constable, Mooney, Brooks

Goal of the year: Peter Leven v Port Vale
Every goal that we've ever scored has been greeted with a phrase akin 'WHATAGOAL!'. It always takes me by suprise when the ball hits the back of the net. You'd think I'd have learnt by now, but I'm a bit of a simpleton like that.

But, when Peter Leven intercepted a short pass ten yards inside our own half and looked towards goal, I couldn't have been the only person who chastised him for launching it towards goal. The next 3 seconds produced, maybe, the greatest goal ever seen at the stadium.