The five stages of grief

Oldham v Rotherham, Boundary Park, Sat Jan 13th, 1-1

It’s said that people remember where they were when they heard of the seminal moments that occur in life. The deaths of JFK and Princess Diana. Mans first steps on the moon. 9/11. The sale of Alex Revill to Cardiff. (Vicky knows exactly what she was drinking in a bar in Lisbon when that news came through). When I first heard I had just checked a tray for a Mr Damms (appropriately) and was taking my lunch break. Vicky was freezing on Leeds station having just come out of her mock. Kathy was home in bed with flu. I discounted it as scaremongering. Later the next day, sat at home after a gruelling, long, cold day at the walk in centre, it became official. Lee Frecklington had signed for Lincoln. Lee Frecklington, scorer of the goal that won promotion. Lee Frecklington, scorer against Wednesday. Lee Frecklington, scorer of the goal that saved our championship lives. Lee Frecklington, legend, was leaving. So he was old, soon to be out of contract, and injury prone, but he was supposed to end his career with us. We were going to build a statue in the New York car park. This was not supposed to happen. And so began the five stages of grief.

First, denial. Reports were wrong. Not everything on the internet is correct. He would change his mind last minute and stay. But it was not to be, and on that fateful day, Thurs 11th Jan 2018, the photo of him holding a Lincoln shirt and smiling (smiling!) was shown. I can’t reprint it here for legal reasons. 

Next up, anger. How dare he. How very dare he. He has left us in the lurch. What will we do now when we need a box to box midfielder who runs on Duracell batteries?  Who will be captain and drag that ragtag team of also rans out of their complacency and forge them into a team that will die for the cause? Who will score the goal that wins us promotion? I hope he crashes and burns at Lincoln, that’s if he is ever fit enough to play. I hope he slithers back into the obscurity he was enjoying before we made him the legend he was. 

That stage was pretty much the place we were as we left for Oldham, munch box packed, on a snowy sat morning in January. During the week we had fetched in a striker from Bury reserves (I know) with the uninspiring name of Michael Smith. ‘That fits the Jordan Bowery song’. Vicky had said, trying to lift the mood and throw a positive light on things. ‘No it doesn’t’ I grumbled. He scores goals, he scores goals Michael smi ith. To the tune of give me oil in my lamp. I thought not as well! Big lump, and useless donkey were some of the testimonials from Bury fans seen on Twitter, but we have to give him a chance I suppose. And it wouldn’t be the transfer window if we weren’t linked to a whole host of players, most of whom will end up at Barnsley, none of whom we manage to get over the remarkably distant line. We decided to take the scenic route through Holmfirth, sure we had seen a nice lunch lay-by the last time we travelled that way. Unfortunately we must have missed it and ended up eating the munch box in the car park of Oldham hospital. Only £3, a bargain. It was freezing so we layered up and headed to the ground. Boundary park is not one of the newer stadia. Indeed, it reminds me of Millmoor in that it’s falling down. There were around 1000 Millers there, so a good showing. 

Warne had named an unchanged team, Frecklington of course having missed the last match ‘injured’ probably holding up a sparkling new Lincoln city shirt. New boy, Michael smi ith was on the bench. In keeping with recent games there was a familiar, if much more ginger, face in the Oldham lineup. Recognise him?

How about this one, in happier, blonder, times? **

We all settled down to watch a scintillating match, Well, tried to as the girl in front of me insisted on leaping up every two minutes to film the crowd on her phone. I must be plastered over Facebook a hundred times over. I did manage to see a very early Oldham attack, some very dodgy Millers defending, and a very very good goaline clearance by chesterfield bound ( don’t get me started on that!) Richard Wood. 

Not long after that, in the far distance, the ball came to Ryan Williams who smashed it home. 1-0 the Millers

It was around this time that stage three, bargaining, set in. ‘Do we really need a box to box midfielder who runs on Duracell batteries when we have one that can do back flips?’ Vicky mused. ‘We seem to be doing ok without one’. ‘And when we get that New signing over the far away line without Barnsley spotting him first we will have a midfield to rival any in the division.’ I replied. ‘We also have Big Donkey Michael Smi ith to come in as well, he may give us that goal scoring flair that we are missing since Moore* was hijacked by Barnsley.’ It was all going so well till we conceded a needless, and very harsh, free kick on the edge of the box. Right in front of us Rodak set his wall up all wrong, taking no notice of the guy behind telling him where the huge hole was. The free kick was taken, took a deflection off the useless Mattock, and sailed through the hole in the wall. 1-1. ‘Frecklington just scored a worldy for lincoln’ someone shouted into the stunned silence.

Stage four, depression. It’s freezing cold, the pitch is awful, Pringle is running the midfield, the oppositions midfield, and we are being held by a pub team. Our best EVER player is running someone else’s midfield, scoring world class goals for them. We bring on Michael Smi ith, who the ref takes an instant dislike to and he can’t get a touch because the ref just gives a free kick if he is in the vicinity. Mattock is having a (mother) mare, Richard wood is off to Chezzie as soon as he can pack, and Barnsley will just buy anyone paul Warne even looks in the direction of. Relegation looms.

The game was poor, no two ways about it, and in the end we were happy to get the draw. We stayed just outside the playoffs and are now unbeaten in seven games. We also got out of the hospital car park and home pretty quickly. I never watched ‘that’ goal and never will. Next up,  highflying Portsmouth at home. Another team with a familiar face. Find out who on Saturday.

And stage five? We aren’t there yet. 😢

Man of the match

 Ian - vaulkes

Jackie - wood, for an amazing goal line clearance

Vicky - wood

Toilet watch

5/10. Pretty basic but the hot water lasted and they were clean. There was a giant gap in one of the doors though and There were only four for the whole away end which meant we were second last out of the ground.

*MM conundrum

**Mr Ben Pringle of course