Murray had a little Lamb

Tamworth (A) - National League - 10th October 2026

Historical Crossroads

Tamworth has stood at a crossroads throughout the centuries. Romans settled there, as did the Angles, morphing into Mercia's capital where Offa was the main man.

The Peninsula Heathen Army Sets Off

The latest version of the Great Heathen Army (well, a full bus) assembled at Ramsden Square in the hurricane that passes for 'a bit blowy' on our glorious peninsula. Middle-aged men who were resplendent in shorts at Roots Hall a fortnight ago shivered, bobble-hatted in big coats.

A cheery, busy bus, buoyed by the first four wins in a row since whenever, lurched through the autumn traffic. Subjects covered: ADHD, bacon rolls and coffee, Viagra Boys, bus driver careers, women's toilet signs, and great cider floods of our times.

The Lichfield Detour & Tamworth Tap

For reasons unknown, the bus stopped in Lichfield. Ignoring police advice (given my wife and I are not risk supporters), we Ubered off to the Tamworth Tap for beautiful food and non-alcoholic ale.

Amid the nibbles, subjects covered: BDSM among friends, pickled onion bhajis, the strangeness of Kidderminster fans, Fred West lookalikes, Connor Mahoney penalties, and Texan shed living. Then off to 'The Lamb'.

Arrival at The Lamb

A cheery couple of hundred had gathered on Mental Health Day to 'break the stigma', as the announcer read. All for that, but the serotonin hit would be a fifth win for these assembled, over-emotionally challenged lovers of the beautiful game.

Baize and Bunkers

The pitch was reminiscent of a bad local pool league table, with weird bounces and dead areas all over the green, black, and white baize. It was enough to make The Castle Inn tear at their branded polos and mutter into half a coke at the conditions.

We were better than them, but not by much at first, working the sides rather than chipping them aimlessly towards the gathering small plastic balls in the bunker at the corner.

A Scrappy First Half

Football surfaced momentarily as Thompson wriggled cleverly and smashed a shot towards the top corner, denied by a cracking save. Then a stramash from the resultant corner.

Then the game tripped over itself for a while, the latest inconsistent moon unit in charge pandering to whinging Mercians.

Both sides were up for it, but they couldn't take it, upsetting the enclosure faithful so much that one began screaming like Animal from Police Academy and never stopped.

They trundled one wide. Marcel Oakley, very good again, put in a timely tackle. More poorly reffed tussles, then Corey Edwards wriggled through brilliantly but ran out of steam. Half-time.

Bovril, Security, and Super Winterbottom

Can't say I felt too secure with First Secure, as some of the black-clad security looked like they could have you killed rather than sternly referred to ground regulations.

Bovril in hand, I worried we were in for a Worthing-esque flap as the sea parted and Winterbottom, who probably was man of the match, made a superb double save.

Edwards in Technicolour & Taking Control

But for all of our grit and endeavour, we've also got players like Corey Edwards, who sees the game in 360 technicolour. A wickedly clever reverse pass set the industrious Reid away, upended by their keeper. Rekeem, with the certainty that comes with a scoring run, smashed it into the top corner.

Bedlam. Hordes hurtled past me to the front of the writhing away end as we celebrated. They struggled and we took control, winning most second balls and pushing on. But we left gaps, as we do, and great handling by Winterbottom, judicious blocks, and a solid structure held firm.

Enter Corey: another clever near-post run and rifle, which their keeper probably ought to have saved, and we were two and clear.

Squeaky Bum Time & Stoppage-Time Mettle

It's the National League, so concentration waned and the game slipped back into battling. Tamworth are game enough and on a decent run, and with what turned out to be 15 minutes to go they got what looked like a soft penalty from the length of the pitch into a low sun away. This was coolly dispatched, the crowd was lifted, and it was game on. Winterbottom saved us again, and handling was superb. But a draw would have been larceny.

Here, if you are 'on a run', is when you show your mettle on and off the park, and for the eight minutes of injury time, we did just that with some biblically loud chanting as we bamboozled and outpowered them all the way to the final whistle.

Five in a Row

Following football, when it's going like this, is simply food for the soul, and the celebrations were long and loud as everyone took a bow.

We were then even treated to Tamworth's answer to the Wealdstone Raider being unceremoniously and deservedly huckled by one of our own in the car park, stewards and police applying common sense and rightly resisting the urge to do anything other than calm matters down.

Thoroughly deserved, and this is great fun. More than fun. More than physical. More than quick. More than smart.

More, more, more.

Overflowing with happiness, we hurtle up the road.

Man alive, it's number five!

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