The win against early leaders Brentford was a real boost for flagging morale. Yet even that vital result
couldn't gloss over some of our shortcomings - both of the goals were fortuitous and the rest of the game
was so armpit-punchingly dull that we were forced to engage in a game of "Guess Ig's Middle Name" to liven
things up. There was a source of some encouragement, though - for the first time, Robert Page showed
signs of getting over a relatively poor start to the season.
I allowed myself to be talked into a trip to Rotherham, regardless of the fact that I had 'flu. What a bloody
stupid idea that was. The cup tie at Northampton the following week, shown live by Sky, was little better -
given the platform of a TV audience (albeit one consisting of three grannies in Great Yarmouth who couldn't work out how to
turn the telly off), we proceeded to hack, hoof and blunder our way through an awful game. The tedium was
enlivened by one single moment of class - Darren Bazeley's goal, a sublime curler from the edge of the box.
Wycombe arrived at Vicarage Road as the bottom side, mainly thanks to good ol' Alan Smith's magic touch. They
went away defeated but unlucky. After a blistering start to the game, we lost our way and fumbled blindly
around for inspiration until David Connolly popped up in the last minute. It was a win we needed, it wasn't one
In the great scheme of things, the visit of Blackpool will be memorable for one event only - Gifton Noel-Williams
became the club's youngest ever scorer. The game also saw the debut of Stuart Slater and a significant increase
in entertainment (which went hand-in-hand with an increase in cack-handed defending). As a team that came
to the Vic with attacking intentions, Blackpool stood out from the monotonous stream of opposition offside traps, time-wasting
and general George Graham-isms.