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It was one of those days. However hard Oxford United pushed and, despite dominating the second half, the ball would just not find the Wycombe Wanderers net.

Adams Park, home of Wycombe Wanderers, is not your typical football ground. A woodland backdrop overlooks the stadium, rather than a run-down rowdy pub. Indeed, there is no pub in sight; the nearest one is a fifteen minute brisk walk from the ground.

As such, it took longer than usual to fill the away end with yellow shirts. With five minutes till kick off, though, we were in full force and bellowing out the chants. Our desperation to get out of the wretched Conference, and the journey that had taken us to the play-offs and then Wembley had made our fans even more of a collective unit. We had suffered the worst together. Yet now we were back in the Football League, and very happy to be. We thus demonstrated our togetherness and pride by roaring Oxford songs at the muted Wycombe supporters.

The first half was a classic English lower league clash. It was gritty, dogged and passionate, yet lacked that cutting edge. The half belonged to the centre-halves of each side, and also to Wycombe’s well-balanced, elegant central midfielder Lewis Montrose who stroked the ball around with apparent ease. Oxford struggled to assert themselves on proceedings, not helped by losing energetic right-back Damien Batt to injury early on. The best chance of the half fell to Wycombe. An over hit, fizzed cross from the left alluded the Oxford defence and was met by Matt Phillips steaming in at the back post, who scuffed the ball wide.

Wycombe may have shaded the first half, yet Oxford steamrolled them after the break. Straight off the kick off, speedy forward Matt Green was released and crashed the ball against the bar, via a spectacular fingertip stop by keeper Nikki Bull. The crowd sensed Oxford’s growing confidence and the noise levels rose, reverberating round all corners of Adams Park. Five minutes later, it was James Constable who should have put Oxford ahead. A mix-up in the Wycombe penalty area saw the ball drop at Constable’s feet who swivelled and instinctively swung his right foot at it, only to find Bull in the way once more. A goal felt inevitable.

However, as Oxford had found to their peril against Bury the previous week, teams in League 2 are more able to launch a successful counter-attack than those in the Conference, and that is just what happened. Anthony Tonkin, whose distribution had been sloppy throughout, was robbed of the ball on the half-way line by Wycombe’s nippy forward, Kevin Betsy, who sprinted towards the goal and only had Ryan Clarke to beat. Thankfully, Betsy thought he was more Thierry Henry than Dean Windass and his attempted chip sailed harmlessly over the bar. It was a let off. Still Oxford pushed though, and Green was sent one-on-one with Bull again, but his shot was scrambled out for a corner. Then, a moment of magic from captain Constable. A rare mistake from Bull saw his throw intercepted by Constable who, Torres-like cut in on his right foot and slammed against the upright, via another brilliant fingertip stop from Bull. The final minutes saw both sides go all out for the three points. However, the last chance of the match came to Oxford’s Jack Midson, whose header from a Jake Wright free-kick crept agonizingly past the right post.

Sadly, we were denied the chance to bring the roof down at Adams Park. Still, a positive performance from Oxford United; it is only a matter of time before we record our first league win of the season.

The 16th of May 2010 is a day that will be fondly remembered forever by supporters of Oxford United.

The season had seen us top the division for the majority of the year, before we had dramatically collapsed in a way Oxford United only know how. The mid-season slide down the table was prompted by a debacle at Kenilworth Road where we conceded two injury time goals. As a result, we were back in the dreaded play-offs. This is the place that can spark either utter joy or depressing misery in a football fan depending on its outcome. Thankfully we passed our first test, in the semi final, thus avoiding that hollow nothingness that followed after our previous play-off semi final in 2007. Here we crashed out in the cruellest of fashions, in a penalty shootout, to Exeter City. A tactical masterstroke by manager Chris Wilder, reverting from 4-4-2 to 4-3-3 saw us comfortably brush aside an unimpressive Rushden & Diamonds over the two legs.

So there we were, back at Wembley. That day, Saturday the 16th of May, was a day when all fans of Oxford United came together. The M40 on the way to High Wycombe station was a sea of yellow; scarves were draped out of cars, while Oxford banners attached to bridges flittered in the wind. At Wembley Stadium itself, the pubs in the vicinity were packed with Oxford supporters. There were fans of old in retro shirts, the yellow fading, sipping on a bitter reminiscing about our last outing at Wembley in 1986. Then there were the hardcore, the ones that had been to Barrow and Gateshead who were dealing with their nerves by sinking lagers and belting out Oxford chants. There were whole families on a day out, their young, excitable children kitted out in the latest replica shirt. In the corner were those that had watched the U’s avidly during the glorious 80’s that had been dragged out of retirement for one last hurrah. This was a day of togetherness, when all fans of Oxford were united.

See, we had suffered like no other club. The last ten years, had quite simply, been a total disaster. In 2001, we entered the basement of the football league, having been relegated suffering a record 33 defeats and conceding 100 goals. At that stage, we even chanted about how rubbish we were. Once in the lowest tier of English football, we tried every formula seemingly possible to galvanise the side. The long ball game under Ian Atkins, where players pumped the ball up to sluggish carthorse, Julian Alsop up front, appeared to be paying off for some time until it became too predictable. Alsop, incidentally left the club in acrimonious circumstances for attempting to insert a banana up a youth player’s bottom. The pretty football that followed under Graham Rix was attractive on the eye, but ineffective in bringing about results. We even tried to bring in some Argentinean flair, in the shape of Ramon Diaz. What followed was a bizarre mix of overweight, skilful foreigners plying their trade aside hurly-burly workhorse Englishmen. Diaz left, however as failed to obtain a work permit. Brian Talbot came next. He was just no good. We were drifting into obscurity, to the dark depths of the Conference. So we played our last trick, which was to bring back the man who had led us in our glory years, Jim Smith. The gamble did not pay off. Following a home defeat to Leyton Orient, we lost our football league status.

The Conference, or the Blue Square Premier to be precise, is a league where no football fan wishes to see their team. The fixture list, including the likes of St. Albans and Lewes does not exactly set the pulse racing. Some grounds, such as Kettering Town’s Elgoods Brewery Arena, did not even possess a toilet. It was a leak on the wall job. We hoped, and secretly thought that we were too good for the league. We had won the Milk Cup for goodness sake. However, after our penalty shootout play-off heartache in our first season, the next two seasons had seen us slip into mid-table mediocrity. We were regressing. We had become the ultimate nothing club. A point on the road to Histon was viewed more as a point gained, than one lost. Yet a revival under our 13th manager (including caretakers) in 10 seasons, Chris Wilder, had now given us that chance to return to the Promised Land.

Wembley Stadium was a cacophony of noise. The fans had now moved from the pubs and the ground was awash with yellow. We had brought a staggering 33,000 fans to York City’s 7,000. There were roars from the Oxford faithful echoing round all corners of the enormous arena. Familiar faces met your every turn. We shared a mixture of excitement and anticipation, yet underneath the nerves were jangling. Amid the din and the torrential rain, the match finally got underway.

Wilder had opted for an unchanged line-up from the semi-final games and we started at a ferocious pace, zipping the ball about with purpose on the damp Wembley pitch. After fifteen dominant minutes, our pressure eventually told. Confusion in the York area saw the ball drop to Matt Green on the edge of the box, who swivelled and lashed home a half-volley into the roof of the net. We were sent into delirium. Four minutes later, it got even better. Our talisman James Constable was sent through and clinically placed the ball past Michael Ingram in the York goal. 2-0. Deafening noise came from the Oxford contingent. Grown men slapped each other on the back, children were lifted into the air and the old-timers let out a relieved smile. Half-time was approaching. We had battered York. Then, disaster struck. Player of the season and ever-reliable goalkeeper Ryan Clark dropped the slimy ball into his net off a corner. The smiling faces had been replaced by head in hands. That horrible, inevitable feeling that comes with watching Oxford United had returned: we were going to throw away a lead from a position of dominance. I thought of the games against Gateshead, Hayes & Yeading, Ebbsfleet...Please, God. No.

The second half was nervy and tense. The enjoyment of the first half was now but a distant memory. York had found their feet; that fortunate opening had given them the confidence to express themselves. The game had become an equal contest. The next goal was crucial. York had two clear openings, but squandered them both. It was beginning to be painful to watch. I was breathing deeply and chewing frantically at my fingernails. Ten minutes left. Five. We were nearly there. Then in stoppage time, York were awarded a corner and in their desperate attempt to find an equaliser pushed their whole team forward, bar one defender. The looped ball was headed clear and fell to Alfie Potter, who sprung a counter attack with Sam Deering. After a series of one-twos, Deering passed the ball across the face of the box for Potter to guide into gaping net.

Ten painful years banished in an instant. Heartache and hurt was suddenly taken over by joy and elation. We had plummeted to the depths of depression, yet now it was all over. There was noise everywhere; there were tears, beaming faces and fists punching the Wembley air. The diehards tore down the Wembley stairs their arms aloft; families jumped up and down hugging one another, while the old-timers just lifted their heads skywards and smiled.

Oxford United were back where they belong.

Many thanks to everyone who voted in the online poll regarding the new Wembley, the result is a yes to the yes vote, with 72% agreeing that the new home of English football is classed as a new ground, so anyone who has already visited Wembley or so does in the future (even if you don't agree) can add one to your total.

This month sees the first FA Cup final at the New Wembley,so this months ‘Ground Image Of The Month’ features a photograph taking from the first FA Cup final at the old Empire Stadium Wembley between Bolton Wanderers and West Ham United in 1923.
This was the first sporting event staged at the new 127,000 capacity national stadium,such was the interest generated for this first final that a huge crowd of an estimated 200,000 gathered at the venue,eventually bursting through the gates (and getting in for nowt!) and swarmed on to the pitch,it took PC Scorey and a grey horse named Billie to bring order to proceedings and clear the crowd from the pitch,the final was thereafter known as “The White Horse Final” as the giant horse appeared white on primitive newsreel footage, a footbridge built near the new stadium is named the ‘White Horse Bridge’ in honour of Billie.
The game eventually kicked off 45 minutes late with the spectators watching from the edge of the pitch,this caused inconvenience to the players when throw ins and corners were taking,the honour of the first Wembley cup final goal went to David Jack,scoring in the second minute as the Trotters went on to beat the Hammers 2-0.
This incident gave birth to the all ticket match with all finals being all ticket affairs ever since,the official attendance was giving as 126,047,but it’s been estimated there could have been up to 240,000 present,a record attendance for a football match which will never be beating.

The work on the New Wembley has finally been completed,with builders Multiplex concluding the work they described as “the job from hell” with all the right boxes ticked with the necessary safety certificates at last received.
The keys are due to be officially handed over to the FA this weekend,I can just imagine David Davies hanging around Wembley Way with a couple of his mates from the FA,waiting for a bloke to turn up from Multiplex with a big bunch of keys in his hand,with the words “There you are mate, sorry it’s a couple of years later than expected,and it’s knocked you back a few extra quid, but it’s all yours”
This means this years FA Cup final will go ahead as planned,along with the FA Trophy final and the Play-off finals,the first scheduled game will be an England U-21 International against Italy on March 24th,which they’ve described as a ‘ramp up’ event to test if everything is in working order.
The stadium which was forecasted to be the best in the world looks fantastic, I hope one day to get there and hopefully I’ll get to enjoy that winning feeling,something that I didn’t experience at the old place.

Wembley Stadium the home of English football for over 80 years,every football fans dream is to make it to those famous twin towers come May for the F.A.Cup Final,the showpiece game of English football,but the dream had a habit of turning into a nightmare for us Newcastle United fans.
My personal record in attending games at Wembley reads;
Att 5 W 0 D 0 L 5 F 2 A 12
(2 F.A.Cup finals,1 League Cup Final,1 Charity Shield,1 F.A.Cup Semi Final)
My other appearance at Wembley was for the American Bowl,Chicago Bears v Dallas Cowboys,where I pledged my support for the Cowboys,guess what?.. Even they lost as well.
So the thrill of seeing those Twin Towers in the distance as you approach the stadium,soaking up the atmosphere as you walk up Wembley Way, the sheer awe as you see the pitch for the first time and the deafening noise as the players emerge from the tunnel as far as i'm concerned you can stick it!! (and that's putting it politely)
So I'm pleased the old stadium has gone,good riddance to bad rubbish!Hopefully the 'New Wembley' will have more happy memories than the old one.

Hears a few pics from the two Cup Finals in the late 90's,when on both occasions we came up against the best team in the country,who were going for the double.(not making excuses like!)
(click on thumbnails for larger image)












I'm pictured here in '98 modelling the 50s Toffs shirt,I thought the last time we won the cup this is the shirt we wore so it might be lucky,and in '99 I'm seen mostly wearing my 'lucky' 70s yellow away shirt which I wore in every round of the cup,but we still lost both times!