The ephemeral majesty of the FA Cup. The stuff of schoolboy dreams, of romanticised days out, and of Liverpool in cream suits.

It's all a long way from the Horsfall Stadium in Bradford, where Buxton and Bradford Park Avenue huffed and puffed for near enough ninety minutes, both resolutely refusing to do anything of much note. The previous Saturday the two teams had provided what was by all accounts a fairly decent game, and I can only assume that the effort that went into that display left them exhausted two days later.


Perspective can be your friend

As I may have mentioned in previous posts, Buxton can play a bit of football, but have all the cutting edge of a garden pea. This being my first experience of BPA, I have to say that gut impression is that Lee Sinnott's men are too small, too weak and too scared to trouble the business end of the Unibond Premier Division table. This despite Crazy Bob's investment. Can't imagine it pleases him overly.

The first half was fairly even, witht he highlight being the antics, or otherwise, of the visiting keeper. He was clattered into fairly early on. Unfairly in the view of both the referee and Yours Truly. Completely legitimately in the eyes of the partisan supporters around me. Which lead to an evening of barracking for the young lad, some justified, some not. He certainly earned his corn as the match wore on. Which has has done on every occasion I have seen this season. BPA played into the hands of the Buxton defence, lumping balls high and long in the mistaken belief that a 6 foot striker could beat a 6ft 4in centre half. When they put it on the floor, it tended to be on the break, and whilst they threatened to test the keeper, more often than not they spurned the chance. At the other end, Buxton were playing a waiting game. Possibly waiting for a striker to come through from their youth ranks. Much is made of the injury to Matt Reed, but truth be told he will have a lot of work to do to make his side a potent threat going forward. Lots of endeavour but no end product.


The fastest leg in the West

The second half saw me move to the far side, if only to spare my ears from the rather vocal Mad Man in the main stand, who I understand is a permanent fixture. In which case I would beg all around him to give him a new script. From this side, the Main Stand certainly looks more impressive, and one can only surmise that an unholy racket can be made there when the patrons out their minds to it.



A running track by any other name

As it was, the fayre on offer was enough to sedate even Timmy Mallet. The second half certainly belonged to BPA, but try as they might, they could not kick the ball harder enough, or straight enough, to trouble the scorers. Buxton meanwhile were limited to half chances, as they continued to forray down the channels. Both sides lacked a ball player who could do something different, and both sets of midfielders seemed reluctant to leave the safety of their own halves. Attackers were isolted if they managed to get the ball under control, meaning fans on both sides grew increasingly exasperated.

But then, as the prospect of extra times loomed large, the home keeper had an aberration. A long ball over the top seemed destined for his hands. The Buxton striker chased it down, as he had been doing all game. An errant sod must have deflected the ball, as the keeper suddenly found it bobbling past him. In desperation he groped at thin air, as the striker scurried past him. Inevitably, there was contact. Inevitably the striker went down. Inevitably the ref gave a penalty. And inevitably he gave a re... no, only a yellow. A strange decision, and one I can only think was tempered by the timing of the foul. Tommy Agus stepped up and put the ball away as forcibly as he had tackled all game. With moments left, BPA tried to breach the defence, but the goal had not changed their abilities. Only Buxton's fortitude. And so it was that the final whistle was met by wild scenes of jubilation from the travelling players and fans. Fans who had, in the main, been strangely quiet throughout the game. Wither the Buxton Choral singers of yesteryear? A home game against Stourbridge now presents both sides with the opportunity to make the first round proper, and a lucrative game against Leeds Barnet.