TALKING POINTS

Matty Hayward – @MattyHayward96

Matty discusses the game at Plainmoor

I’m on my Easter Holidays, and am using them to visit family. That’s my line and I’m sticking to it. The fact that my eight days in the Bay coincides with three Torquay matches is exactly that – a coincidence – and a happy one.

I spent quite a lot of the train journey down from the north west thinking about football. These pondering hours – extended by someone pulling the emergency stop lever at Bristol Parkway – were more jittery brooding than serene reflection, and by the time the Exe estuary honed into view I was more than grateful for the distraction. Thank you, as always, Cockwood.

Following an Actually Very Good Friday in rainy central Cornwall, the Yellows’ title hopes – if they had ever died – were certainly resurrected over the Easter weekend, and we went into Monday’s game knowing that it was, tantalisingly, On.

“How do you feel, mate?” “Not sure”

Then we beat Weymouth. Three nil. Probably the most convincing performance of the season, certainly that I’ve seen. But afterwards, it was quite hard to know how to feel.

Having been wined and dined (Guinnessed and Brisketed) in the Cove before the game, the post-match conversations behind the family stand were clouded with confusion. Truro’s late second felt like an enormous kick in the teeth. I’ve had a day to think about it, and the mists remain. In moments like this, I find it useful to make a list of positives and negatives. I’ll let you decide which outweighs the other.

REASONS TO BE CHEERFUL

– We’re hitting excellent form at the right time: six points, four goals, two clean sheets is an excellent return from the Easter weekend. We probably couldn’t have asked for any more. We’re strong favourites to beat Hemel and even if we don’t win the league we’ll go into the playoffs with wind in our sails.

– We’re really really good at the back. Nineteen clean sheets – six in the last seven games – is a fantastic return and should give us hope.

– Worthing dropped points. It really mustn’t be forgotten that we started the day in third, and we finished it second. Our task, and what we need from other teams, is far easier now than it was before.

– Our manager doesn’t wear jeans on the touchline. Seriously, you might be able to get away with that sort of caper on the Sunday mornings that Feeney will be managing on next season, but that should never be seen by five and a half thousand paying fans.

– We’ll probably never have to pay to watch Josh McQuoid play football ever again.

– It’s sort of in our hands. There’s nothing to say we can’t put three or four past Hemel. Probably. Eek.

REASONS TO BE GLOOMY

– We should’ve beaten Weymouth by about eight. Will Jenkins-Davies, Ed Palmer, Sam Dreyer and Jordan Young all had chances that they’d have backed themselves to score, and we had a goal ruled out because a gust of wind proved too stern for Matt Buse’s less talented brother in the Terras goal. If we’d taken two of those opportunities we’d be going into next Saturday as the league leaders. If my auntie had bollocks…

– There’ll be a time and a place to reflect/dwell on/cry about the season as a whole, but you’d need to use both your hands to count the number of times we’ve dropped points unnecessarily this season. This becomes even more frustrating at the thick end of the campaign when, as it stands, one of those points would be enough to give us one hand on the trophy.

– Jordan Dyer’s injury is, if as bad as feared, terrible news. Ed Palmer deputised excellently on Monday, but Dyer has established himself as a top class centre half this season – he’s every right to feel miffed about leaving the end of season awards empty handed – and will surely be missed on Saturday (and beyond?).

PERMUTATIONS

This time of the season allows us to use one of football lexicon’s great words: permutations. If you want, you can convince yourself that ours are quite complicated, but they’re actually vanishingly simple. We need to beat Hemel, and hope that either Truro don’t beat St Albans or that our winning margin is at least two goals greater than the Tinners’. That’s it. Don’t bother sweating about what could happen if we draw or whatever: we won’t win the league, and that’s what matters on Saturday.

Because everyone’s got too much time on their hands, they’re convincing themselves that Truro playing St Albans is significant. The Saints have taken points off us twice this season, and will have survival to play for at the two-standed, Threemilestone Park And Ride Arena. I’ll probably convince myself of this too on the train up, but I find it quite difficult to get excited about as I write this on Tuesday evening. St Albans are down there for a reason, and if Truro have got anything about them they’ll breeze past them.

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ZINEDINE ZIDANE’S BURUNDIAN BROTHER

It wouldn’t be a talking points blog without a bit on Omar Mussa. I can’t remember a footballer who has polarised a fanbase as much as him. At times a maverick genius, at others a wasteful frustration, The Moose has become something of main character this season. He gets this reputation because of the sort of player he is: it’s his blessing and his curse that he always demands the ball, always looks for defence-splitting passes, never shies away from the fight. Players like that, at this level, will give the ball away, will infuriate, will have stinkers.

The run-in has added an extra twist. Forty three games into the campaign, Omar was given a go in the deep-lying play-maker role, and he did an excellent job there against both Slough and Truro. That wasn’t necessarily the case against Weymouth, and just before the break there was an obvious instruction from the sidelines. Paul Wotton barked at Matt Jay to tuck inside, at the midfield to reshuffle into a two, and at Omar to operate from the left. Within thirty seconds, United’s number ten had beaten a faltering full-back, broken into the box, and nearly earned a penalty.

This plan (plan B? Plan C? Plan…O?) continued into the second half. At about 7pm I described his performance as “world class”, and while I accept that I might’ve been slightly influenced by the aforementioned Guinness, I do think he was absolutely magnificent against a tiring, open defence. It’s a hell of a time to find some form.

POTS AND ALSO-RANS

Football is a team sport, and I don’t much enjoy the cult of individualism that can haunt the game. Man City fans’ tifo about Rodri winning the Ballon D’Or was up there with the most embarrassing displays of modern fandom I can remember, and I’ve been to Boreham Wood’s ground more than once!

That said, it’s nice to spotlight individual contributions to an arduous season, and the post-match back-slapping on Monday was a nice opportunity to do that. If you missed it, James Hamon walked away with the Ian Twitchin award thanks to his ever-presence in the Yellow net, before Cody Cooke took the golden boot thanks to his ever-presence in everyone’s heads.

Finley Craske and Will Jenkins-Davies were runners up to Sam Dreyer for the Young Player Of The Season, while Dreyer and Cooke missed out on the main award to Jordan Young.

Getting Young’s signature in October has to be seen as a turning point for us. It’s a sign of his great quality that he bagged two assists (can you ‘bag’ an assist? I don’t love it) against Weymouth and everyone will have been left slightly underwhelmed by his seemingly lukewarm performance. He’s been excellent, his running down the wing has made me sway and he deserves to have his name etched into a wooden board in the Family Stand reception.

MASSIVE, IT IS

Saturday’s massive. The worst that can happen is we finish in an awkward playoff position. The best that can happen is so terrifyingly exciting it almost doesn’t bear thinking about. I was too young to be at Southend. I can’t remember a last day of the season being so tight with so much riding on it. Forty five league games, eight months, about thirty players, and it’ll all come down to ninety minutes in the Borough of Dacorum (and ninety more in Cornwall).

It’s going to be absolutely massive; we’re going to take seventeen hundred fans; I wish it was tomorrow.

See you there.

(I’m away to scream into a pillow for the rest of the week).