The romance and passion of the FA Cup was there for all to see at Anfield. Yours truly was among the pundits predicting a rugby score, but Havant & Waterlooville played to the very height of their powers and fully deserved to briefly ‘live the dream’ as they twice led in the first half. In truth the scouse giants defended terribly, particularly in the build up to the Hawks’ second goal when a Bramble-esque travesty of control let in a young man called Potter, who appeared to be made of matchsticks, to pop the Hampshire minnows in front.
Fair play to the Anfield crowd, they rose to a man to applaud the non-league battlers off the pitch at the final whistle. Watching that parting gift and hearing the post match interviews, laden with delight, pride and disbelief; made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It reminded me why I love football so much and why the FA Cup is the finest club cup competition in the World.
Whilst Liverpool’s back line will be embarrassed by their display, they were put in the shade by the sheer woefulness of Derby’s exertions. If Lee Camp isn’t already on prozac he surely soon will be. The Rams would have fared better by selecting a wheely-bin in place of the tragic carthorse, Andy Todd. Stevie Wonder could have produced a better back pass than that which set up Preston’s first goal at Pride Park. Heather Mills would have fared better in trying to stem North End’s attacks thereafter. I have to feel for Paul Jewell, who approached his post match interview with all the relish of a man being invited to eat his own eyeballs.
It was a predictable procession for Arsenal against Keegan’s Newcastle. A tasty Nicky Butt own goal added a touch of comedy to the Geordies’ realisation that this season was going to be just like every other since 1969. Chelsea’s comfortable despatching of Wigan and Man Utd’s hard fought slaying of Tottenham, ensures the big four progress to the last sixteen unscathed. But this predictability is tempered by the fact that from the top flight, only Portsmouth and Middlesborough have joined them in the next round. Ten of the sixteen clubs left ply their trade outside the top division, with Bristol Rovers being the lowest ranked side left in the competition.
Both Middlesborough and Portsmouth can consider themselves fortunate to have progressed without a replay. Plucky Mansfield, from the basement of the league, gave the Teesiders a good going over; but ultimately paid the price for not possessing the killer touch in front of goal. Plymouth showed plenty of quality to create openings against their naval rivals, but were denied a deserved replay by England’s finest goalkeeper, David James.
Manchester City continued their dismal away form this season by being quite comfortably turned over by Sheffield United, in the final game of the round. Having heard Bryan Robson interviewed prior to the match, it struck me as quite surprising that his players were even awake for the Referee’s first whistle. I nominate Captain Marvel as the most uninteresting man in football, and should he ever find himself out of work then I’ve no doubt he could make his fortune selling recordings of his football musings to insomniacs. For now, Robson’s cup dream lives on, and Eriksson’s men will be returning to Manchester with gloves intact but egos bruised.
The prospects for this year’s competition look good, with ten of the last sixteen coming from outside the Premiership, the prospect of a ’small club’ reaching the business end of the Cup appears reasonable. The football neutral will be looking for the big four to draw eachother in Monday’s fifth round drawer; and then everyone can start dreaming of Wembley. As a Portsmouth fan I’m somewhat torn. The salivating prospect of facing Southampton is a tempting one, but a home draw against Huddersfield would offer a virtual guarantee of a quarter final birth for my beloved team – provided Luke Beckett stops scoring!
Past history suggests that as Portsmouth cup dreams begin to catch light, a draw against Arsenal quite rapidly extinguishes them. Call me a bottler but I’d happily take a minnow in the next round, and the prospect of being just two games from Wembley at the final whistle.
