I was disappointed to find we’d drawn at home to Alfreton. Imagine how I felt when, the next day, I discovered that we’d hadn’t!
I’ve been away for the last few days, and found myself in the hotel in Venice which wifi forgot. There were certain ironic references to Wrexham all around – on the first day the Alto Acqua meant that St Mark’s Square was flooded, leaving it looking like Welling’s pitch (I’m fairly confident that the first time Welling and La Serenissima have been directly compared!) However, there was no direct info to be had. Believe it or not, I was in a Wrexham-free zone!
I’d no way of finding out how the Alfreton game went until my dad texted me the outcome. And so, after an agonising two hour wait, looking at some achingly beautiful architecture while secretly thinking of Leon Clowes, I got the message. a 2-2 draw.
Disappointing. Missed a penalty, had the better of things for much of the game, and a good run of home results against sides from our division at an end. I always find results more deflating when I’m not there and have to hear about them second hand. Perhaps it’s because when I see things for myself I can compute them more easily and rationalise my disappointment.
However, as the night wore on I came to terms with the result. After all, we’d a lot of players missing, and at least we fought back and got something out of it. Onwards and upwards. I went to bed feeling, not quite upbeat, but certainly in a happier place.
The next morning I switch on my phone to discover the following oblique text from my dad.
missed west wood goal hast second
What did this mean? Had there been a last minute winner? By Chris Westwood? Was my dad a code-cracker in World War Two? What did hast mean?
Of course, it turned out that the worst was exactly what happened. I’ll level with you: I wasn’t happy!
So trying to find out what happened at Hyde was going to be doubly tricky. This time I opted for what aficionados of result-evasion and delayed gratification will recognise as the Low Tech Likely Lads Approach, which goes as follows:
STEP ONE: I’d avoid the result in Venice (Not difficult – having let their local team go bankrupt twice in the last decade, I can assure you that Venice isn’t a football town. I went to Bilbao and found everything was related to Athletic; I came to Venice and saw the odd Balotelli shirt in the window and the best/worst replica kit of all time – a Bayern Munich effort which was a red t-shirt, the black and white Bavarian check of the badge replaced by a panelled football!)
STEP TWO: Get to the hotel, jump onto the wifi which wasn’t supposed to work in the room but I’d discovered that morning actually did, and scroll the club’s official Twitter feed back to 2.45. Then, in glorious oblivion, I could relive the agony of sitting by a laptop waiting for something to happen.
Step one was achieved, step two was put into operation, 1-0: brilliant! At last the Christmas depression could be banished. Hang on, 1-1? 1-2? But Hyde are awful, aren’t they?
This was the point where I started scrolling through to the end in a fury of frustration. Why was I putting myself through this? But then, hold on – 2-2. 3-2! Ogleby after a hat trick! Suddenly, following Wrexham remotely was fun again. By the end of the feed I was happy at last – and no hast minute goals to frustrate me either!