Limbs 'n' Lifelines
- Apr 15
- 5 min read
Oldham (H) - EFL League 2 - 14th April 2026
Is it the hope that kills you or the knowledge that it’s the hope that kills you, that kills you? As I sit here trying to compose my thoughts, the nicotine of football coursing through my veins, I’m trying to make sense of it all. How? How can a team that has been so rank for so long this season pull out a result like that against the prototype League 2 juggernaut of team in Oldham? How can a team that’s had bugger all luck all season score a goal like Gordon’s? How can we still be in with a shout of escaping the drop zone when all has looked lost? How? HOW?
The evening started in a more sedate fashion than it finished. I strolled into a quiet fanzone around 7.20, perusing the team news. The latest twist of the selection kaleidoscope saw Shipley, Barkhuizen and Mahoney jettisoned completely and returns for Anderson, Thompson and Powell. Powell, bloody hell, I’d forgotten about him. Back 3? 4-3-3? 4-4-2? Who knew? Could be anything. In we go. I scanned the ground and was pleasantly surprised by the turnout in the away end (was that Pete Wild leading the chants of ‘Barrow’s going down’?) and nonplussed by the gaps on our terracing. Morale is low although at least we haven’t haemorrhaged any more support than the several hundred that disappeared around the time of Whing’s demise.
The first half was a decent contest which we edged on points, I reckon. Certainly the Oldham keeper had more to deal with than Stanway. It wasn’t the most technical of displays from either side - there’s never usually much artistic merit when Micky Mellon’s gang of heavyweights, bouncers and wrong ‘uns are around (and if any passing Latic takes umbrage at that, please don’t, its a compliment. Mellon’s a wily old sod who knows how to put together a decent team for the grinding arm wrestle of a league that is League 2. They won’t be far away next season.)
We had a penalty shout rightly turned away on 10 minutes but we kept probing, with Whitfield and Wiliams getting into good areas out wide to deliver crosses that ultimately came to nowt.
The returning Anderson was coping well with the ‘professionalism’ of Joe Garner. Him and MacDonald taking it in turns to deal with the Baked Bean Faced Assassin and his repertoire of elbows, nudges and studs. Again, not a criticism of him - exactly the sort of shithouse I admire.
The best chance of the half came just before half time but frustratingly Harper couldn’t follow up his worldie on Saturday by finishing off the breakaway from Smith. Was that our chance? Oldham’s first real chance of the half just before half time seemed ominous as a header hit the bar and over.
The sides left the pitch to warm applause from the gathered throng in recognition of a shift being put in. My pal and I ruminated on the games this season where a modicum of that sort of effort and intensity would have yielded points. Crawley, Gillingham, Harrogate, Bristol Rovers. More, probably. Ah well, what might have been.
The second half started in the fashion that most of us probably feared. Four minutes after the restart and a strong challenge around halfway set Oldham away. The ball was swept out left into The Barrow Gap, advanced at pace and the cross turned in by Payne. Bugger.
Was that it? Would a side that has struggled to put two good halves of football together once again buckle under the weight of the scoreboard? The response wasn’t immediate. Indeed, the visitors could have doubled their lead only for Stanway to deny the looming Fondop. In reply Barrow huffed and puffed for a long spell. Gordon and Rose getting no change from Monthe and Simeu, no rhythm or plan from midfield, wingbacks not making ground. Time to wring the changes and with three attacking options on the bench, two of them were thrust into action - Newby replacing a knackered Whitfield and then minutes later Fletcher followed him into the fray in place of Smith.
As caution began to be thrown to the wind a breakthrough was coming. A goal-line block or two resulted in a Barrow corner, from which. Newby’s cross was nodded down by McDonald for the lurking Rose to net. Game on!
Within seconds - pandemonium. Josh Gordon doing what Josh Gordon does. Effort, commitment, chasing crisp packets in the wind and in this case charging down Hudson’s kick before rolling the ball home. Limbs whirled and bounced throughout Holker Street. Strangers hugged and jigged, old and young combined in a disbelieving roar. We don’t score goals like that, not this season…could it be?
And of course, Barrow being Barrow, it wasn’t plain sailing from there. On 88 the visitors again raided down the left, a cross half cleared and Pett fired home. From where I was stood - and from the reaction of teammates - it looked like it took a deflection. Now, THAT is the sort of goal we are associated with this season. Injury time loomed and maybe we’d taken the blow that would knock the wind out of our collective sail.
Well, if there’s one thing Barrow has in abundance it’s wind and credit to them, the players dug deep one last time. Again, Newby instrumental as he pulled the ball back to Fletcher in space and the coolest man in town picked his spot to send the gathered throng into delirium. Limbs? Hyperventilation, morelike.
The rest of injury time passed as though time itself was wading through treacle. Thankfully we saw off everything that a demoralised Oldham had left to throw at us - the best of the chances being a cross that flashed across the goal to be met not by an onrushing attacker but by Ben Jackson who cleared the ball to safety. Phew!
Eventually the man in the middle blew his whistle and the roof was raised once again. 8 and a bit months of hope, frustration, anger, bewilderment all wrapped up and exhaled as one. Smiles all round, fists shaken in delight for a change as the players rightfully soaked up the acclaim from the stands. Players I’ve largely bemoaned, players that have driven us all daft for huge chunks of the season but for now, players that sent us all home with a huge grin on our faces. Players that will need to go again on Saturday for the next ‘must win’ game.
Saturday.Walsall.
Bloody hell.
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