Just as the man who has endured the famine may celebrate the harvest, so may the man who has stood among 3000 other hardy souls on a Tuesday night in February, watching Barry Fry’s Peterborough United kick and rush their way to a 0-0 stalemate with Northern Industrial Town FC bask in the warm glow of a 4-0 win over a team once considered our superiors. The name of Huddersfield will be forever etched into the memory of a good few thousand Posh supporters. On that famous day we were the victors. Pinpoint precision from the right foot of Barnes, a mighty dive from a temporary hero – and a firm, accurate header that would elevate him to almost mythical status among the wide-eyed supporters. They were going to Wembley. The home of football. To watch their team. A story to be passed down through the generations. And so may today’s encounter with yesterday’s quarry be another landmark in the brief history of Peterborough United Football Club. To those unfortunate followers who could not be at London Road today, my friends, I cannot lie, this was a quite incredible success. From the very first minute it was apparent that there would only be one outcome. The naysayers of the local press affiliated to each week’s chosen opposition may write us off as a millionaire’s plaything; a result of over-inflated transfer fees and market dominance, but that is both untrue and an injustice to the skill and judgement of Darren Ferguson, Kevin Russell, Barry Fry and Darragh MacAnthony. This is a squad thoughtfully assembled from the cream of talent in the lower leagues. Take Craig Mackail-Smith; a scrawny youth, released by St Albans Town, but so strong of character he held his head high and impressed at Arlesey, enough to earn a transfer to Dagenham, where his relentless effort and eye for goal were enough to earn him a ticket to league football. Charlie Lee; a product of the youth system at Tottenham Hotspur. A much-fancied youngster whose passion and commitment were not rewarded with equal measures of faith and loyalty. Paul Coutts; a midfielder plucked from the Highland League. A lad with a troubled past, taken under the wing of masterful Micah Hyde and transformed into a visionary ball-player. Such composure is rarely seen in one so young. And then there’s George Boyd. One will never know quite how such folk heroes as Denis Emery and Tommy Robson would have coped in today’s game, so to proclaim any player as the greatest ever is mere bluff and bluster. But what can be claimed – and may well be disputed – is that the lank-haired, lackadaisical-at-a-glance steal from Stevenage is the most talented footballer to have graced the PE2 turf in his generation. Today was no one-off. Once more Boyd toyed with his adversaries, seemingly more happy when given two men to beat rather than one, opening up chance after chance for his grateful comrades. 4-0 was an understatement. A scoreline which flattered a bewildered Huddersfield Town. We are witnessing a rebirth. A ray of light at the end of a gloomy ten-year-tunnel. This is a team that could go all the way. This is a time to appreciate how lucky we are. This truly is a time to be proud to be Posh.
Tags: Huddersfield Town, League One