The turn of the Shrews
Michael Henderson
'THE romance of the FA Cup'. How often have we heard that old chestnut? Alternatively, people talk of the competition's 'magic' or 'glory', as though it were some transforming potion. Occasionally it is. Despite the best attempts of a handful of Premiership clubs to hog the stage, and exclude all those minions they consider to be below the salt, the little 'uns still manage to cause an embarrassment now and again.
Last weekend it was the turn of Shrewsbury Town, who belong to what we old-style football followers insist on calling the Fourth Division. The Shrews have not had much of a history. Indeed, as Sybil Ruscoe, a local girl, informed readers of the Daily Telegraph in her 'colour' piece after Everton had been sent packing 2-1, the club was known mainly for !Lie 'coracle man' who used to spend Saturday afternoons sitting patiently in his vessel, fishing balls out of the River Severn, which adjoins the Gay Meadow ground.
They didn't need to fish any balls out of the river last week. Instead, the Shrewsbury team gave their highly paid Premiership opponents a good old dunking, and all right-thinking folk rejoiced with them. With every season that passes there are fewer and fewer genuine surprises in the FA Cup, so we must cherish them all the more when they come along; in this case, in the third round of the competition, when the 'big' clubs make their appearance.
It was the most pleasing sort of upset because Shrewsbury's winning goal came with one minute left of normal time. Nigel Jemson, the man who scored it, also claimed the first goal that put them ahead in the first half. before Everton equalised. Jemson is the only member of the side to have played at the highest level (the old First Division, that is), although the manager, Kevin Ratcliffe. was a highly decorated performer two decades ago when he captained. . . yes, Everton!
What a comedown it all was for Everton's new shooting star, Wayne Rooney. Throughout the autumn the papers have been full of news of this teenage goalscorer, who walloped a notable winner against Arsenal, the champions, at the age of 16 and who is intent on taking the shortest possible route to fame. Now he knows what perils can trap the unwary. The young man who puts fear into the best defenders in the land didn't get a kick against Shrewsbury.
Elsewhere, though, the Cup failed to work its charm. Only 10,000 spectators turned up to watch Bolton Wanderers and Sunderland, who sent out weakened sides, and a poor crowd of 23,000 caught the game between two other Premiership clubs, Aston Villa and Blackburn Rovers. Even Manchester City's tie with Liverpool failed to fill Maine Road, and live television coverage had only something to do with it. Clearly, when football is on the box three or four times each week, much of it from far-flung parts of Europe, the third round of the Cup means less than it once did.
But at Shrewsbun,r, and at Wolverhampton, where the Wanderers beat Newcastle 3-2, the flame burned gloriously last weekend. Neither team will go on to win the trophy but, by knocking out two clubs with Cup-winning traditions (though you have to go back five decades in Newcastle's case), the Shrews and the Wolves have performed a notable service to the game at large. How marvellous it would be if the slayers of Everton added another feather to their cap, in the shape of Chelsea, in the fourth round later this month. But even if they don't, they have done their bit. Vivat Salopia!
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