Wrexham 1 Torquay United 0
Coca Cola League 2
My two previous visits to the Racecourse for league games both ended 0-0, would my dismal run continue? For the Dragons' sake I hoped not. Today Daf gave us all a lift. Darren was helping to fix a bath into someone's house, rather ironically, in a Wrexham players' house.
Due to Daf's duty finishing at about 1, a parade in Llandudno, we didn't leave 'til about 20 to 2. Consequently Daf put his foot down, obviously adhering to the speed limits, and we made it to Wrexham at about 2:45. It was a hot day so a very pleasant afternoon lay ahead, thankfully it wasn't as hot as last week.
As we went in I noticed that plagiarism is alive and well; Wrexham had appropriated Bangor's slogan about Keeping the Faith. The enticing aroma of the Chicken Balti Pies called again and I couldn't resist their allure. Unfortunately the pies' contents veered between molten and stringy. The chicken was rank. Fortunately I only paid £4 for the pie and a bottle of coke. We took shelter from the sun's rays under the Kop's roof.
Wrexham played well for the first 25 minutes. They attacked well and forced two very good saves from Torquay's goalie. Wrexham's apparently portly Number 9 McEvilily, to judge from the abuse directed, missed one of these chances. He looks like a phenomenon; the kind of striker that continues to get a starting place without managing to score very often. Well that's that's my conclusion from the two games that I've seen. Win assured me that he was good at shooting. Evidently jumping was his downfall and this not exactly a boon for a striker in the lower reaches of the Football League. Wrexham continued to press until half time and Torquay came into the game a little. The score was 0-0 at half time.
I'd noticed a few Torquay fans, not many, obviously only the hard-core. Relegation and the length of journey militated against a vast invasion from Devon. As I pondered the universality of football fans' travelling mentality I noticed what may have been a sinister movement, a long line of "lads", perhaps including "faces", was moving towards the visiting fans. Was there going to be an "off" right in front of my eyes? Probably not, counselled Win, the snack bar was a more likely destination and the pursuit of pies the likely cause of the journey.
As the time lessened in the second half the tension increased. It even began to effect me. Wrexham looked unlikely to score and the tension went up a notch when it was announced that Chester were losing. Audible murmurs were heard, followed by a nice little song about Chester. Thanks to Win were were constantly aware of the scores from the other games. The glancing at mobiles became more frequent as time passed.
Incidentally the second prize in Wrexham's match draw was a £20 voucher for a Kebab House and this was was a new one on me. This prize is almost as good as the packet of biscuits once offered in Colwyn Bay. When I refocused on the match, Chester were still losing but so were Macclesfield and they were losing by 5. Win let everyone know that the scoreboard had it wrong by 2 goals, Macclefield were only winning 3-0 via that medium, although it was hastily changed.
Wrexham couldn't find a way of putting the ball into a promising situation near the Torquay goal so a draw looked likely, the possession Wrexham enjoyed was still being wasted. Torquay looked like a team that had been relegated, they had no real fight left.
McEvilily came in for more abuse when it appeared he wasn't trying, the irony of chubby spectators berating him for his physical state was not lost on me. When Neil Roberts was brought on McEvilily remained on the pitch so cue more shouting and whistling. McEvilily did engineer chance for himself, unfortunately he should have passed to a colleague in a better position; an opinion that the terrace critics immediately brought to his attention.
And then salvation!! Neil Roberts slid the ball into the goal, only just but they all count. It was late but that makes it better for dramatic purposes, and a drama more believable or watchable than any soap. The Kop began to Chant "We're not going down!" with more vehemence now. A few minutes passed and Wrexham had won the game, even I felt happy. All "we" had to do now was to beat Boston and "we'd" stay up. I'd be there again because I'd broken my hoodoo.
Right at the end
