Match Details

Reports

West, Armstrong, Davis, Smith

Little Weller Ball Cook

Moore Taylor

Subs used: Briscoe, Mullin, Payton

The local rivalry must run deep. "I hope you beat 'em" said the Irish gatekeeper when I asked where the away turnstiles were. He must have been a Palace fan, as he was waxing lyrical about our victory over Preston on the telly and, in particular, old boy Glen Little. Given that Wimbledon had won their last 5 home matches and hadn't lost in normal time since the end of January - 15 matches in all - I didn't think it was very likely.

After spending a good 3 hours in the neighbouring Sainsbury's car park I wasn't particularly up for it for the first 2 minutes, by which time Neilsen had already shaved the crossbar, Niko being much more confident of the ball going over the top than the ball itself was. It soon warmed up though - after a couple of neat moves down the right involving Little and West in front of the away support, the ball was played to Weller just outside the penalty area. His first-time ball into the centre fell perfectly for TAYLOR who, muscling his marker out of it, nutted the ball past Davis with accuracy.

Given the BFC style of play, an early goal is the perfect recipe. Quite content to sit back and let Wimbledon come at them then surge down the wings on the break. However, with Armstrong and Davis not exactly lightning-fast the defence was forced to sit deep, leaving a lot of space in front of them to play into. Cooper fluffed a difficult volley from a cross and there were a couple of long range efforts before Michopoulos made one excellent save from an Ardley drive.

Going forward it was much the same as Preston: not much down the left where Smith and Cook struggled, but with West charging like a steam train down the right and Little, while looking nervous early on, gradually starting to showboat. It was his cross that gave Kevin Ball (the ultra defensive Kevin Ball? I had to check other match reports to confirm this) a chance parried by the keeper, but the two covering defenders conspired to lose the ball and it squirted out to MOORE, who fired it into the top corner on the turn towards goal. End of the first half.

Despite the Dons shovelling men forward throughout the second half, playing with 4 up front for at least the last ten minutes, there wasn't a huge amount to get worried about. For a side with such a good recent record and a neat brand of good football, Wimbledon looked rattled. In the first half Williams never came to terms with Taylor who had his best game in a claret shirt (I think they've given him Branch's iron tablets, he was much more aggressive and lively), and Moore is starting to make the runs that best exploit his pace and Cunningham was very wary of him.

For the opposition, despite a lot of possession they struggled to create chances. Agyemang looked a great prospect but couldn't produce the final ball when it mattered, and Neilson their new great hope didn't have a great game. Even with Briscoe substituted in for Armstrong at half time and playing as centre back, I can't remember being unduly concerned. In fact there was space for a drive from Cook, a chance for Moore that he hit first time to the near post and a comedy moment when goalkeeper Heald, who had been given a rapturous reception ten minutes earlier when he replaced Davis, missed his clearance and nearly ended up on ITV's closing highlights reel for the week.

So, another competent, winning, performance, almost worth the 20p per minute's action it cost. The only downer was being constantly disrupted by a man who obviously fancied himself as a coach and seemed to be inflicted by some kind of footballing Tourette's syndrome, spouting inane cliche - "Get a grip! Get it on the floor! Push up! He's all over him like a rash!" etc every 10 seconds. Still, mustn't grumble. 61 points, 4 points of those mythical playoffs...

Steve

Steven Tattersall Sony Computer Entertainment Europe, Cambridge Studio

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