Wrexham 3 Boston United 1
Coca Cola League 2
This week in the media most football-related talk centred around the Premiership or European Cup, sorry Champions League. Anyone would have been forgiven for thinking that these were the only important matches. Here in North Wales we realised that there were other issues at stake. Issues that may have greater significance than which team of ego-maniacs can brag the loudest next season. Wrexham, one of the oldest clubs in the world, stood on the edge of the abyss of non-league football. Wrexham, a league club for over 80 years could to be playing in the same league as Forest Green and Grays, Northwich would the local derby. Even non-Wrexham fans like me found this a touch unpalatable.
I wasn't the only visitor to the Racecouse today. Whilst we were waiting for the train to leave Chester station (Win, my original driver had been delayed in work so I'd had use public transport) several young men entered the train. Their loud conversation indicated that they were also off to Wrexham. As it was difficult to avoid their conversation they appeared to be behind the reds. I began to doubt the sincerity of this when they glanced at the first sheep-filled field and one of them intoned drolly; "We're in Wales lads!!!" Guffaw, Guffaw. The fact that the "joke" was delivered in a rather thick Lancashire accent told me that they were from an area with it's own image-related issues so I left it unremarked.
I had to meet Win at the back of the Kop. Whilst on my way to buy a programme I met Karl and Nic coming the other way and they waited for me. As we queued to get in it was evident that the crowd was a good deal larger than a normal Wrexham crowd. Why is it only on these sorts of occasions that people decide to come? Are they unaware of football at any other time? Consequently the redshirts were out in force. We found a place that afforded a good view and we waited for the tension to build. A choir sang the Welsh anthem and for a split second it felt like a Welsh international.
The crowd began to sing and I'd forgotten how loud a singing crowd could be and we struggled to communicate; undeniable proof that we weren't at a Welsh match. The first half play was a little unremarkable and Wrexham couldn't string many passes together. The ref was abysmal; every decision favoured Boston, even clear fouls committed. As I made my way to get a drink I was advised by a cheery Win; "Watch out for the queue!!" Just as I was marvelling at Win's attempt to retain his sense of humour in a state of extreme tension Boston scored. The KOP fell into a deathly hush. Meanwhile the numerous Boston fans leapt into joyful shapes. After negotiating the lack of space between me and the snack bar I returned to our place. Win had a considerably less sunny disposition. To make the situation I was drinkless; the queue had been too long. The rest of the half saw Wrexham win a few corners but fail to create any other sort of chance. A good second half performance was needed.
The second half was definitely better. This was mainly because Wrexham scored from a penalty. Although it looked a little harsh nobody cared, apart from Boston fans of course. Certainly no-one on the Kop minded, least of all the bounding Win. The movements only stopped when he embraced a bearded gentleman. It didn't seem to bother those that got on the pitch either. The tension dissipated. "We are staying up!!" roared the Kop and you could believe it now. Wrexham looked more like a team that wanted to win.
You couldn't relax though, Boston could've score at any moment and they nearly did. One of the Boston players managed to hit the scoreboard from halfway inside the area when it looked like he had the goal at his mercy. Until he struck the ball skywards there was an audible gasp on the Kop. At times like this you realise that the "ahhhh" noise crowds shout at an unfortunate player is as much an exclamation of relief as a gesture of mocking.
Wrexham scored two late goals to calm every home fans' nerves and Wrexham were safe. As we were all standing upon the pitch at the end you had to feel a bit sorry for the well-travelled Boston fans. Unfortunately their club had fiddled their way into the league (It was in the Daily Post this morning! - Legal ed.) so this sympathy probably wasn't universally felt. All of the players, including a certain one, came out to receive the acclaim of the crowd for not being relegated. If I was a Boston fan I may have found this triumphalism hard to stomach but most of them seemed to stay. Gaz came up behind me and jabbed me in the kidneys to announce his presence, simply saying hello is obviously so last year. As I rubbed my kidneys we all made our way off the pitch, the sun shined and all was good with the world.
A rather draining afternoon
