Saddle up for Wrexham 2.0
The last time Wrexham played Walsall at Y Cae Ras, Reds’ cult hero Hector Sam flicked a cheeky header into the net in front of the Kop.
Sadly, it was for the wrong team.
After watching the stocky T&T striker falling over, missing sitters, or scoring absolute worldies - depending on what kind of day he was having - for half a decade on our green Welsh grass, it was strange seeing Sam turning out for another team against us in December 2006.
Before kick-off, he said that if he happened to score for his new side Walsall, he wouldn’t rub it in our faces.
He did, and he didn’t.
Good old Hector. The lad wasn’t perfect, but his humble actions in 2006 showed he was a member of a dying breed: Someone outside of Wrexham who still regarded our football club with respect. At this point in time, most others simply saw us as easy pickings.
A couple of years earlier, a pair of slimy property crooks’ malevolent plan to dump a DIY supermarket on Y Cae Ras’ hallowed ground had failed after they’d been chased out of town with pitchforks and flaming torches, but the energy we’d expended on that ousting left us gasping for breath. We weren’t in a good shape for football, and clubs knew they could turn up at Y Cae Ras and run off with the points without breaking much of a sweat.
We managed a draw in that Walsall game. But loss after loss followed. Sam and his teammates went up, and (eventually) Wrexham went down. Hector went home to the Caribbean. Seasons changed. Years went by. And we wouldn’t play the Saddlers in a league match again for nearly two decades.
In that long - at times endless - fallow period, Wrexham v Walsall gained potential new status as The Dean Keates Derby, with the Black Country terrier yo-yoing between the two clubs as a player and manager. But to be honest, when the fixture finally came around again for the first time in 17 years on Tuesday evening, the days of Deano never felt further away.
Keates’ reign - despite his prestige as an epic player and taking us to within touching distance of promotion - is synonymous with conference football. But Tuesday wasn’t a turgid, desperate slog to kick our way to victory. It was fast, frantic, fluid football in the EFL - two teams trying to strut their stuff on the catwalk amid a firework display of snapping cameras.
The hubbub ahead of kick-off wasn’t that nervous hum of anticipation that we used to hear in the non-league days. This was a summer night dancing with excitement and pre-match parties taking place all over town. Flat Carling had been replaced by bubbly Cruzcampo. The drone of the pub teles drowned out by live acoustic sets in the Maesgwyn. Turnstile workers swapping rusty change tins for barcode scanners. People weren’t just here out of obligation, but privilege (even the loyalest of the loyal are lucky to get a ticket these days).
And the game - played in the beam of our new spacecraft-like floodlights - was wonderful to watch. One victory, two ambitious teams, three man of the match contenders and four home goals - including a Cantona lob from the Billionaire Bulldozer and a cool celebration the Frenchman would’ve been proud of.
Our first win in the EFL for 15 years and an historic night to remember.
It has been a long time since we saw off the Saddlers. But we’ve got a new stable, now. We aren’t the cannon fodder we used to be. This is Wrexham 2.0. We’re finally out of the starting gate. And we’re looking fitter and faster than we’ve ever been.
On to Swindon. It feels so good to be back.