By Nick Mabey.
Football is back…and back with a bang. If that’s not a reason to be cheerful then stop reading this article. And for those of you already searching for parts 1 and 2, they don’t exist; it’s the title for a song I would highly recommend…. The juice of the carrot, the smile of the parrot, A little drop of claret, anything that rocks.
Back to the article. Putting on my Saints-tinted glasses, allowing me to leave to one side all the nonsense going on, here are my reasons to be cheerful:
As I said, the football is back. Of course it’s not proper football weather yet but wandering to the stadium with thirty thousand others is always a special feeling.
My new seat is the bees’ knees. Having been forced out of 20-year occupancy to allow away fans to be moved, last season was just too low. Finally we’ve found spaces in much-vaunted ‘row P’, the perfect elevation to be both near the action and able to see some perspective.
Will Still. Didn’t seem to be sweating despite wearing a full-length black tracksuit in 30 degree sun for 90 minutes while watch his team being behind for most of that time. He seems a very wise head on extremely young shoulders.
The crowd were amazing. It felt like we were welcoming returning champions rather than a team that was just relegated with the second lowest points haul ever. Such colour and noise, which only abated when Wrexham scored and slowly built again as the match proceeded.
Our new kit is awesome. Sounding like a starry-eyed boy (which I was once) I hesitate only briefly before suggesting the three kits we have this season are the best. Of the best. Ever. The home kit even allows us oldies to get nostalgia-laden about the days of Alan Ball, Phil Boyer and Malcolm Wadron.
The renaissance of Jack Stephens. Jack has always been a player to divide opinion and often the lightning rod for manager selection grumbles. His new contract raised hackles and eyebrows alike. However, in this first game he not only showed enough speed and nous to catch runaway forwards but also the guile and energy to pop-up at the far post in extra time to snatch a winner. It won’t pacify all the naysayers, but I’m delighted for him.
The hand of Bazunu. Gavin’s return as our first team goalkeeper has vied for fan opprobrium with Stephens’ contract. So it was great he made a brilliant, match-preserving save during his first game back. He didn’t have much else to do, and was otherwise superb with his feet and a little slow off his line, but the save alone must surely do wonders for his confidence.
The rebirth of Ryan Manning. Another player not universally popular, came on with Saints trailing and proceeded to almost single-handedly change the course of events. His general play was a reminder of the potential we signed from Swansea, and of course scoring a JWP-esque equaliser followed by an excellent assist for the winner cemented him back in fans’ hearts (at least for the time being – as, like Stephens and Bazunu, Manning may feel the fickle nature of fandom at any moment).
Fitness. In a short spell, the team has gone from resembling my old Sunday side to Olympic levels of fitness. It’s no coincidence we scored late twice in our last two games. We look like we can run for ever. For those in doubt, may I present Ryan Fraser, who lasted the whole match without dropping his workload, compared to last year when 45 minutes seemed his limit.
We won our first game. We don’t normally do that. Say no more.
We won a league fixture at home for the first time since last October
We created a Hollywood ending against the Hollywood darlings. Wrexham are apparently more famous in LA than Liverpool right now, and, with the cameras rolling and the world watching, our late, late win was straight out of tragi-comedy script.
Football is back. Come on you Saints.
PS I’ve written this before Northampton away, but it won’t be published until afterwards. If things go badly wrong I can only apologise for allowing my optimism to jinx matters.
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