Hurry up, Harratt, come on

Remember when we couldn’t beat our Happy Valley neighbours for two seasons? Those days are gone, comrades. This is just what Oldham do now. They just beat Halifax.

We started with Norwood and Harratt up front, with Fondop on the bench having a very well-earned rest. I was looking forward to those two playing together, and they look promising as a partnership, they seem to be on each other’s wavelength. Harratt spoke afterwards about how Norwood had talked him through the game and told him where to be and where he was going to put the ball, and it showed. I’m glad Norwood’s got a new surrogate son in the team.

Harratt is looking a very decent signing, and marked his first start exactly how we wanted him to 28 minutes in. Kitching made a great run down the left, beating their defender and crossing the ball into the box. Halifax only cleared it as far as Rossiter, who headed it back into the box, where Harratt was perfectly placed to put it away with what can only be described, however much you might want to avoid the pun, as a poacher’s finish.

📸 Phill Smith

What made the goal even funnier was that the Athleticos had been singing ‘Yorkshiremen eat bananas with their feet’ for a good five minutes when the lad from Pontefract put us 1-0 up. Excellent stuff.

As an aside, I can’t believe I have to say this, but please don’t throw pyro at our own fucking keeper. Please don’t do that. That’s a phenomenally stupid thing to do.

Halifax had to sub their keeper shortly after the goal, after Norwood had cleaned him out a few minutes earlier. We probably should have done more to test the kid they brought on. Donaghy, on the other hand, dealt with what shots Halifax had comfortably.

It felt like we were in control of the game, but we’ve all been watching Latics long enough to be nervous with a one goal lead. What was probably Halifax’s best chance of the game came in the second half, with a free kick that was headed wide. They also lost Arthur to injury, and by horrible coincidence, an air ambulance was circling the ground not long after he came off, which was a little unnerving.

The referee was pretty crap once again, and it did not help my mood at all to learn that he’s Trevor Kettle’s son. Great, now I’m furious AND I feel old.

Conlon once again showed what we’ve been missing, putting in a great captain’s performance. He came off for Gardner 74 minutes in and Fondop came on for Harratt. Mikey immediately bullied their defenders when he came on, and stayed calm when they were fouling him, having been told to by his fiancée.

Oh as if he's stored his partner's name in his phone as 'Baby Mama'

It paid off, he wound them right up, and Alimi-Adetoro ended up getting booked. They were even more wound up in injury time, when Pett put another great corner into the box, and God’s number 9 buried it with yet another classic Fondop header, while a Halifax player tried to foul him and could only hang off him despairingly as he scored. Get in. And my, how he – and we – enjoyed it.

📸 Thomas Lee Stacey

It felt like a big win. It felt fucking brilliant. Special shout out to the ball boys who did something of a lap of honour at the end. And Norwood and Harratt went to Salmon Fields to celebrate by stealing some ducks.

Mellon was a prickly old bugger in his post-match interview, once again saying he keeps telling everyone how many players we’ve lost, and no one listens: “I think I’ve built three teams now this season.” Michael, we won, you curmudgeonly old sod. You finally signed the striker we desperately needed and played two up front and it worked. Cheer up, mate!

Off the pitch, the club continues to keep itself busy being a pillar of the community, hosting its third Iftar event in the Broadway Suite on Monday, inviting His Infernal Majesty Alan Hardy as special guest at the Silver Latics event on Wednesday, and hosting a women’s darts night in the fans’ bar last night. People were, of course, very normal and calm and reasonable about all these events on social media. I hope the “keep religion out of football” people aren’t gonna make me get rid of my Christmas jumper. I fucking love that jumper.

Transfer deadline day (for we do indeed have one on Planet Vanarama) came and went without any comings and goings, which isn’t a bad thing. Our squad’s looking pretty strong; even with Ogle and Monthe out we’re looking solid at the back, I THINK we’re OK for cover in midfield, and, with Harratt signing and Garner back in the matchday squad, we’re looking much stronger up front. Hopefully things have come together at the right time.

It would take a colossal fuck-up for us to not make the play-offs now, and, while I’m sure we’re perfectly capable of that, I don’t think we will. The teams around us continue to shit the bed, so hopefully we got our blip out of the way early and can build some momentum going into the final run. And we shouldn’t give up on 3rd place – there may be a 6-point gap, but Forest Green’s form has been patchy, and we’ve got them to play.

(Also, that bet that I put on us to win the league, which seemed like a really fucking good idea in November, was each way, so I’ll win a few quid if we finish 3rd. Which would be nice.)

Finally, a massively self-indulgent plea for money. I’m on course to complete walking 100 Miles In March this weekend to raise money for the Roy Castle Lung Cancer Foundation, and, just to lay it on with a trowel, it’s also my birthday on Thursday, so if you can afford it and you’d like to make a middle-aged woman very happy, you can donate here.

Is every game a cup final now or is that a crappy cliché? Whatever. There’s ten points and five places between us and today’s opponents, Southend, so I’m not sure it’s quite a play-offs six-pointer, but it could be a tough game. The crowd will probably be down on what it could have been, given that it’s on TV and it’s a 5.30pm KO six hours’ drive from Oldham, so fair play to you if you’re making the trip. I won’t be, having been put off away games for life by the recent trek to Boston on a Tuesday night. This is a different team, though, and hopefully HMS Piss Our Way To Third Place sails on. KTMFF.

📸 Thomas Lee Stacey

Written by Arlene Finnigan