Roots Maneouvres: Southend Done the Northern Way

Southend (A) - National League - 26th September 2026

I’m sat at my laptop on a rainy Sunday lunchtime still trying to distil yesterday into a cogent narrative. Every time I try to get some thoughts down, something else pops into my head. ADHD or BAFC? A bit of both, most likely.

Saturday started bright and early with a smooth run down to Euston on the rattler. When in the capital some went straight to the seaside, others to their post-England game digs and my eldest and I did our usual schlep around Oxford Street for some window shopping. After some sustenance we set sail for Essex. Elizabeth Line to Stratford, change there for the train East. The platform had several Torquay fans milling around and my mind did the usual gymnastics…where are they today? I wonder how their season is going? Remembering previous trips to Plainmoor etc. They decanted at Billericay and as we wound our way to Southend the train filled with more and more commuting Shrimpers, all in good spirits and exhibiting the usual geographical intelligence of our Southern friends.

“Where IS Barrow?”

“Mate, it’s FAR”

“Like, past Birminum?

“Well far. Near Noocarrsel.”

“Fackinell…..how long’s that then?”

“Dunno, like free arrs’

“Jokes”

Anyway, we all disgorged at Prittlewell and with a bit of a thirst on and the info that there was no beer in the ground, we went into the nearest alehouse - the Railway. Busy, locals in good spirits and a tremendous array of old shirts on show for their retro day. The kit geek in me rejoiced at spotting a Spall kit.

Pint sank, off to the ground. And what a ground it is. An absolute belter. Modest facilities, obstructed views - a real home from home. But this old girl was packed with more than 8k home fans who backed their side vociferously. Yes, they lose points for having a drum, but they were vocal and they even had more than two songs which makes a lovely change in lower league football. A brief pre-match chat with the institution that is Dave Leitch was most welcome - he’s been in the wars recently and everyone at Beans HQ wishes him well. We had a decent turnout - the usual knot from Furness supplemented by exiles, the odd neutral and players families. George Walker was particularly well represented. And we got behind the team from first whistle to last, even in the nervy moments.

The first half started brightly with a nifty short corner routine which ended up with us hitting the bar before the game settled into a pattern whereby Southend would play out from the back, feeding Oldaker in the middle. Facing his own goal he would either sell Harper an outrageous dummy before spraying the ball wide or he’d get a slight touch and fall, Tom White-esque to the floor. Decent player though, Oldaker, the first I’ve seen this season who looked like he could dictate play from midfield.

On 12 mins we had a let off, a cross from the left put wide at the far post. On 21 a strong penalty shout turned down. We were riding our luck at times but in general we were being competitive and looking to hit Southend on the break with Walker and Thompson’s pace. Reid and Harper pressing centrally, not giving Southend too much time to settle on the ball.

As half wore on, the Shrimpers had twigged that the ref was poor and it was worth chancing their arm upon minimal contact for a free kick. Sometimes he gave it, sometimes he didn’t. It’s the lack of consistency which grates for me, Clive. On 32 Omochere was booked for diving which showed how far they were willing to push it/how bad the ref was. Take your pick.

We didn’t carve out too many chances and our corners were largely wasted but at the same time Winterbottom hadn’t had to make too many saves. Half time, nil nil and a game certainly in the balance in the Essex sunshine

I grabbed a word with my mate Frank during the break. A leading face in the East Anglian Bluebirds he assured me in his usual sagacious way that “We’re in this!” Me being a worrier, I maintained I’d be happy to take a draw. Let’s see what the second half would bring.

Chaos. That’s what it brought. Utter chaos. A half of action and incident that left me mentally drained and feeling like I’d spent 45 minutes on a spin cycle. This is why we go to football. The emotion of it, not to stand and watch two teams fannying around playing it across the back. ‘The right way’ I believe it’s called these days.

The second half started with a change after a few minutes. A foul on Latty-Fairweather forcing him off for Amos, then after series of free kicks the ref called Marriott for a few words - asking him to calm our players down? Dunno but it seemed a little late to be setting a marker down. Not long after a free kick of our own was lofted from deep into the Southend area, nodded down and Harper was on hand to sweep it home. Cue 133 going mental at the other end. Get in!

3 Southend changes swiftly followed and they nearly got straight back into it but Winterbottom stuck out a leg to keep our nose in front. The home crowd turned the noise up a notch and we were in the middle of a real maelstrom, a proper atmosphere and a big test for our collective mentality. Both on the pitch and in the stands we responded. Our noise went up a level and Reid laid a ball off to Thompson who strode forward, let fly and the deflection took the ball past Sims. A stroke of luck maybe but you only get that luck if you’re positive, if you have a go.

Now it was our turn to ring the changes and Allen, Mooney and Jackson joined the fray. The game was to and fro, Southend’s ability to get wide causing us serious problems. On 75 Colclough’s marauding run from the left channel saw him bundled over and he converted the penalty. Bugger. Another test for our mentality. Do we collapse or hold firm? Neither - we kept throwing punches of our own. The jet heeled Allan forced a great save from Sim and on 84 some awful defending saw Mooney claim possession in the corner, squared the ball only for Oldaker to side foot the ball into his own net. A calm finish from the lad, every credit.

And still we weren’t finished. Reid fashioning a chance down the left before Danny Amos pulled out a challenge so ferocious it could be heard for miles around, winning the ball and cleaning out the home player. It felt like a goal, honestly. Some wayward shooting from the edge of the area hinted that Southend had run out of ideas but in injury time they scrambled home a corner to put my nerves on edge once again. 3-2 up but 6 minutes to go - surely not, Barrow?

Thankfully we summoned up the energy and nerve to go again and land the knockout punch. Dan Mooney, returning to his former club, escaping the attention of two defenders to turn, shoot and put the game beyond doubt. Up the other end the support melded into a delirious throng.

The game ended and the team received their rightful acclaim from a jubilant support. Our first away win since last Christmas and it’s taken until the time of year when the shops have got the festive stock in again. What a miserable run - and you could feel the months of awayday misery evaporate into the sea air. So yes, after so much gruel, let’s salivate when presented with a feast.

A brisk walk back to the station meant we made the first train back to London. Rammed with Southend and credit to them they were philosophical about the defeat, bemoaning their own defensive shortcomings rather than Worthing-esque raging about our style of play etc. Most seemed to be resigned to conceding the title to Borehamwood too. Come on lads, it’s only September.

I spent most of the journey home trying to process what I’d witnessed. Maybe pick out some tactical nuggets to try to appear intelligent on here….nope, couldn’t do it. What I did see was effort, passion, desire and some cracking finishes. All done at a team riding high, in front of a huge crowd. That’ll do for me. One to savour for a long, long time. If we play with this characteristics more often than not, we’ll do something this season. If we don’t, we won’t.

Scunthorpe on Tuesday. Let’s see how we go.

Footnote

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