Hang it in the Louvre
Big Fletch reminds us that we're very much in this promotion race...
Stood at the edge of the field on the top of the hill - his tongue flapping, his teeth bared, his fists clenched, and his arms stretched wide - Steven Fletcher cut a warriorlike figure.
It’s a picture we have seen so often this season: Our soldierly striker and the Red Army screaming back at one another beneath the floodlights. But like any inspired work of art, this image never loses any of its power on repeat viewings. Wherever the pitch, whatever the game, it’s always a sight to behold. Fletch bangs in a late winner, initiates the rapture, and we all believe again.
It’s a sensational cheat code, really: Being able to wheel out a brawny Scottish soldier when squad energy is waning. And it’s one we treasure on some nights more than others. Tuesday was the perfect case in point. Fletch’s goal at Huddersfield didn’t just add precious points to the board. It was a roaring reminder that we are very much in this race for a hat-trick of promotions.
On paper, it looks great. So, how did we all manage to forget that we’re a genuine contender for a Championship spot next year?
Well, three quotes uttered by members of the Red Army in the week leading up to Huddersfield (A) offer some insight. None of them uplifting. All of them true.
Quote 1: Turns out we can still “Wrexham it up” after all
Last week’s Peterborough debacle was technically a draw, in a competition we technically didn’t care about, technically played by a makeshift side.
But it didn’t matter. There’s nothing technical about the way Wrexham fans process football matches, and even the Takeaway Tournament can get us all worked up, especially when we fold like a house of cards mere seconds after singing about going to Wembley.
The last time the Red Army reacted with such furore to a game we weren’t fussed about was probably North Ferriby: A match that played out in eerily similar fashion to Wednesday’s semi-final. Kevin Wilkin effectively signed his own death warrant that day by making poor dugout decisions, and whilst Parky’s substitutions didn’t stick his head in the guillotine, he did have to spend some time in the stocks: With insults and boos hurled like mouldy fruit in his direction.
But the worst part wasn’t the result or the subs. It was the fact that we had found a way to “Wrexham it up”. Apparently we are still vulnerable to that after all. Yikes.
Quote 2: Mullin now runs like he’s just had the Spoons burger
Nobody can seem to decide on what the best Wrexham XI is. Not even Parky. But one thing we all seem to agree upon is that Mullin doesn’t look right.
The numbers of fans shouting that “Mullin will still finish our top scorer!” have been dwindling by the week - suffering a record plummet after his penalty was saved in the semi. We were all jittery watching his run-up to hit that ball. Even the simple act of running seems to be giving him trouble right now: With the striker plodding around the pitch like he’s had a big feed at Old Man’s before kick-off.
If anyone can come back from a slump, it’s Mulls. But we might need to be more patient with him than we first thought. The question is: Will Parky share that patience?
Quote 3. Your midfield… you don’t create… I like this beer though.
This third quote came from some Norwegian visitors, who seemed more interested in discussing the price of the local pints at the Horse & Jockey than they were about the game they’d flown 1,000 miles to see.
The lunch kick-off with promotion rivals Bolton Wanderers was actually a decent watch and a solid point, especially after our cup exit. And whilst the Northmen’s analysis was brief - “your midfield… is wrong… you don’t create” - it was pretty much on the money.
Against Bolton, our forwards were mostly feeding on scraps. And when the chances did come our way, we spurned them. ToC blasted over from five yards in front of the Tech End to leave 1200 Brian Potters cackling in the away end, but truth be told, Bolton fans seemed dimmer than half the characters in Phoenix Nights. At one point they tried to mock us for never being in Europe, only for Y Cae Ras to howl with laughter and retort with a chant of “you thick bastards”, which somehow seemed to cut deeper than the well-worn put-downs you typically hear on matchdays.
So, ahead of Huddersfield (A), the situation was this: We were out of the cup, we were one hero down, and we were struggling to create chances. But we turned up at the John Smith’s Stadium just two points off 2nd place nonetheless.
And the team were up for it. Despite playing what’s felt like a whole season’s worth of football in the space of four weeks, the players battled like their lives depended on it. It wasn’t pretty, but when Fletcher bundled the ball home to win the Scrappiest Goal of the Season Award, it conjured memories of Ollie Palmer at Chesterfield: Beating a promotion rival on their own patch and releasing a fresh burst of passion through the terraces at the tail end of the season.
All those grumbles and quibbles from last week have suddenly been forgotten. And the only quote anyone is interested in right now is: “Fletcher again, ole ole!”
Unlike Fletch, promotion is not inevitable. But thanks to our Scottish striker creating another “Hang it in the Louvre” picture-perfect moment, we’ve been reminded that something truly great is still truly possible.
We just have to use our imagination.
UTST.
Brilliant article once again!