OLDHAM ATHLETIC

‘Oldham Athletic. No ups. Only downs.’

CHRIS ENGLAND author, playwright and Oldham fan

‘Things Can Only Get Better’

D:REAM song, with keyboards played by physicist and Oldham fan Brian Cox

On 8 April 1990, as Palace fans were leaving Villa Park after beating Liverpool 4-3 in the greatest semi-final in the history of any sport ever, Oldham Athletic were about to kick off against Manchester United in the other FA Cup semi-final. At the time, both clubs were in the First Division and if Man U were favourites, it wasn’t by much. The game was almost as exciting as ours, ending in a 3-3 draw. Oldham, cheered on by Palace fans who figured that they may be easier to beat in the final, lost the replay 2-1 on the following Wednesday. United went on to win the Cup. Bastards.

And speaking of bastards: on 1 May 1993, Palace beat Ipswich 3-1 to leave us eight points clear of relegation. Oldham would have to win all three of their last games to have any chance of climbing above us to safety, and they were really difficult games.

To the dismay of most of us, our players went on the most ill-advised lap of honour in the history of sport.† We weren’t technically safe, and the avenging gods of football tend to notice these things. And notice they did. They gave Oldham their nine points, we got only one more and we were relegated on goal difference. Technically, you could say that Oldham won their own nine points, but I prefer to think of Palace as a victim of universal forces, not a small town in south-east Lancashire. I hated Oldham then as much as any team I have ever hated, and that’s all 91 of them, even though it was our fault not theirs.

In truth, they are a difficult team to hate, if only because they are another of those clubs who have somehow managed to gulp just enough air to survive in the pond that is Greater Manchester football and deserve a bit of credit for it. Plus, since they relegated us, our paths have taken very different directions so I can afford to patronise them a bit.

I’m a fully qualified pub historian, but even I struggle to explain why that small corner of the world is so full of football clubs that have managed to survive in the shadows of United and City. Fans of clubs like Blackburn and Burnley will argue that they were the big dogs once, and they are right, but still I’d love to hear the opinions of a real historian as to why other equally industrial conurbations have far fewer clubs surviving. Even the most ardent Oldham fan couldn’t argue that they were the big dogs once, because, apart from a brief spell in the nineties, most of their history has been spent bottom-feeding in that big old pond of theirs.*

My mate Chris England co-wrote An Evening With Gary Lineker, the world’s only funny play about football. I was in it once, so for his sake I want to be kind to them because they’ve suffered enough. As he told me over a pint: ‘We’ve got the coldest ground in the country, we’re owned by a former agent and his dodgy brother and we’ve got a shonky squad and all our fans have disappeared.’ That was a cheery hour in the pub. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I reckon Carlisle is much colder.

Maybe Chris would be happier if Oldham were called Pine Villa, which is how they started. Unfortunately, hardly anyone in Oldham seemed to notice and they went bust in 1899 after a four-year struggle. Or possibly it was a team called Oldham County that went bust, and Pine Villa took over their ground and changed their name to Oldham Athletic. Either way, not sounding like an air-freshener any more seemed to endear them to the locals and the new club took root.

For Chris’s sake, I wish I could fill this chapter with tales of domestic derring-do and European excursions but, sadly, I can’t. Well, I could, but he would know that I’d invented them.

Mere survival is triumph enough for them; but to be honest, it is for most of us. Eighty-six out of the 92 clubs will almost certainly never win the Premier League title; it’s just a question of finding the level you can survive at.

They do have one cool thing about them, though, and that’s the bird on their badge. I mean, it’s not a majestic eagle, but it is a rather handsome owl with an expression on its face that looks he’s trying to decide whether to bite you or bring you a mouse.

The owl, of course, is a reminder that their first manager could turn his head almost in a full circle as a party trick.

I wish it was. Apparently, it’s a heraldic pun from the coat of arms of local toffs who were called the Oldhams, or the d’Oldhams or the Owldham. Presumably the latter if the pun is going to work at all, which it isn’t because puns never do. Trust me, I’m a comedy writer. I’ve tried.

It’s lovely that football historians attach so much significance to things like club crests, but every now and again, when someone asks a question like ‘why is Oldham’s badge an owl?’, I’d like the answer to be ‘because the chairman loves owls’.

Working on a TV show recently, while waiting for the kettle to boil,† I was chatting to the archive researcher who is a football-mad West Ham fan, and also one of the nicest people you could meet. Let’s call him John Smith, because, poor sod, that is his name. John asked me about the book and what chapter I was writing at the moment. I told him it was this one. Without hesitation, he said, ‘I fucking hate Oldham. Plastic pitch ponces.’

Wow, I’d never seen a vehement John Smith before. And I’d totally forgotten the plastic pitch they’d had back then and how unfair an advantage it gave them.‡ I’d also forgotten, until John reminded me, very loudly, that they beat West Ham 6-0 in a League Cup semi-final in 1990 then pipped them to the Second Division title by one point the season after.

Chris laughed when I told him: ‘Yeah, we scored a penalty with the last kick of the last game of the season. They’d already engraved West Ham’s name on the trophy.’

Just goes to show though, what a strange web of rivalries and lingering dislikes binds all our clubs together.

Why You Shouldn’t Support Them

■ They relegated us.

■ We would have beaten them in the FA Cup final.

■ I have never seen John Smith angry before.