Derby County (H) - League Cup - 27th August 2024
For those of a certain age, Derby County are still a side with a certain cachet. Fifty years ago, they were on their way to becoming Champions of England, playing free-flowing football under the management of the legendary enforcer, Dave Mackay.
We, meanwhile, were bumping along in the lower reaches of the Northern Premier League, where by all accounts there was plenty of aggression but little football taking place, in front of crowds dipping under two hundred. A glacial fifty years later, we are back within the orbit of the League Cup and The Rams.
The double-deckered Derbymobile purred smugly into town, as recently promoted Championship superstars searched nervously for Wi-Fi and gingerly inspected the away dressing rooms. Welcome to Holker Street, home of the Bluebirds.
Pulling on their 50-year commemorative third kit, they put out a reasonable side with around six first-teamers and a new loanee from Wolves. We sprung a little surprise, with Saturday’s all-action hero Kian Spence benched with Robbie Gotts. In came the evergreen Sam Foley and Dom Telford.
The build-up was enlivened by the unwise decision of the club to sell one of our best-loved pensioners’ stand seats, the unwitting punter soon ejected. Derby had brought about 800 fans and fitful, unimaginative chanting; however, given the gaps in the quiet home end, we had no room to throw shade.
After about five minutes sizing them up, we clearly decided no inferiority complex was required. Not in the sense we had to ‘get bodies behind the ball’ as we were quite happy to take them on in terms of awareness, pace, and technical ability. This we proceeded to do. Sam Foley, tough and classy, mopped up mistakes including his own and held the shape of the side.
A wriggling run and cross from Kouyate saw Foley shoot over. Ged Garner, growing in confidence, cleverly flicked the ball up and lashed it goalwards, well saved by their keeper.
Paul Farman then produced a wonder save and clawed a recovery from point-blank range. Little between us - whistle.
Half-time brought reflection. This was no fluke - we weren’t doing anything different but we were doing it very well. Why should the likes of Ben Jackson, who was playing above Derby last season, feel worried? Early days, but the atmosphere seems lighter and more confident. Neo Eccleston? His scorching pace and elastic physicality make him almost seem like a Marvel character.
Second half: Garner weaved cleverly - shot dreadfully. Newby burst into the Derby half - fouled. Derby got free down the sides and rattled the post as the game turned into a tussle. But we were still pressing monsters, looking clever and dangerous.
Aqua charged through and was fouled. Spence, who had arrived for the last half hour, thundered a free kick against a quivering bar. Derby were looking a little ragged but had a late chance. It would have been larceny had they nicked a goal.
A heartfelt ovation followed: penalty kicks.
For such occasions was Paul David Appleby Farman hewn, on the north bank of the Tyne. You could see him grow beneath the spotlight. Derby went first, heading for a Holker End; which had become a seething, glorious mass of distraction.
It was all too much for Collins, who skied the ball into the night to the delight of the crowd. After this, everyone scored including Robbie Gotts, what character given his goal return in the last year. Onward to Derby’s Jackson who hit the post…we were so near! Kian Spence’s effort was saved.
Still… save one or score one and we were through… FARMAN! Cue bedlam and chants of BAAARRRROOOOWWW from all sides of the ground echoing outwards from Morecambe Bay into the night sky, to the Sky studios and beyond into football’s sleepless maelstrom. 56 years. We deserved it too.
Courage doesn’t always roar. What Stephen Clemence seems to have instilled is a
lightness of spirit and a willingness to bust a gut for each other, passing purposefully,
quickly and bravely. No recriminations if it sometimes doesn’t work. A smile, a rueful
shake of the head, and we all go again.
Bamboozled and bewildered, a chastened Derby slipped quietly back down the A590
and into folklore. History? Written by the victors.
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