They say there’s something magical about midweek football under the lights. Usually that includes turning off the lights in the stands, but Yeovil – for whatever reason – prefer to illuminate their supporters like convicts in a jail yard, presumably so they can get a good view of the whopping great gaps on their terraces.
A thousand absentee home fans made it perfectly clear what they think of Mark Cooper and his brand of disjointed, knockabout nonsense – admittedly one nobbled by injuries and, if Yeovil fans are to be believed, an incomprehensible recruitment strategy. The ones who did turn out further emphasised the point by booing their team off at half time and kindly inviting their manager to vacate the premises, which tells you all you need to know about the mood around Huish Park. None of this, of course, is Graham Coughlan’s problem. In many ways, this was the perfect time to make the long trip to Somerset and avenge the 3-1 home defeat back in August, because this is clearly not the same Yeovil who pitched up in Lincolnshire and won at a canter.
So Boston United and 73 of their supporters – most of whom would be back in bed just a few hours before their next shift – arrived at the unhappy Huish looking for points to add to solitary home scraps picked up in solid performances against Oldham and Woking, and further enhance the returns from the vitally important wins on the road. What transpired over the next ninety minutes was exceptional. What very recently looked like an almost comically lost battle for survival has actually turned into a genuine, and unlikely, Battle For Survival.
For all their ills in an mainly difficult season, the Pilgrims have achieved some eye-catching results away from the motivational slogans of the JCS. First, York. Then a complete demolition of Sutton. Wins at Fylde, Dagenham and now Yeovil have injected some hope into what was looking to be a thoroughly miserable season. Just a few weeks ago, the gap was thirteen points. Now, it’s five. Coughlan’s arrival did not herald a sudden, dramatic reversal of fortunes: anyone at Tamworth could tell you that. But slowly, game-by-game, things have improved. Cash has not been chucked at the problem, nor have the long-awaited ‘experienced players’ arrived, but incremental advances have caused something to stir in south Lincolnshire.
At Huish Park, behind the huge, roofless terrace that was closed to supporters but housed two Boston United flags, a handful of BUSA bus lads huddled with their three-for-a-tenner Carlings in Yeovil’s fanzone style space (it’s a coach park with a portaloo and is probably great on a sunny Saturday). They talked enthusiastically about recent performances (“well, apart from Eastleigh”) and one chatted to the lads in the Thatchers bar about his vague hope of Boston somehow staying in the National League under Coughlan. “He’s got us playing, finally,” the supporter said. “I hope it’s not too late.”
That remains to be seen. But by half time, it was already too late for Yeovil. By the time Jimmy Knowles was set free to shimmy and poke the Pilgrims ahead it could easily have been 1-0 already, only an outstanding Aiden Stone swipe keeping the Gloves from falling behind. By the time Jacob Hazel and the absolutely brilliant Dylan Hill had combined to double Boston’s lead there was already a feeling of inevitability about the night. As the Boston fans found their voice, the rest of the stadium fell into sullen silence, as if they knew this was coming. No wonder they were unhappy. Stone’s kicking was mainly aimed at the car park and Yeovil seemed comprehensively rattled by a combination of Hazel doing what Hazel does, Hill being some kind of omnipresent genius, Knowles running at them like vintage Ricky Miller, and Brad Nicholson… well, you know what Nicholson does best. Yeovil couldn’t cope.
Boston took full advantage of the chaos, hassling and hustling the home side into repeated errors, employing the high press with the urgency of a club fighting for its life, getting to and winning those second balls that Coughlan covets so much and winning everything they could in the air. Basically everything you know a Coughlan side is going to do. You get the impression this is not his ideal squad, but the fact he’s got them playing his kind of high-energy football with that ‘little bit of quality’ – you know, the sort we’ve been missing all season – is hugely impressive.
Midway through the second half a third goal emerged from a scrum of players – Zak Mills nogging a loose ball past Stone – and just like that, the game was essentially over. “We’re Boston United, we’re taking the piss!” came the cries, and even Jacob Hazel found time to laugh along with his fans after being jokingly scolded for being offside on a set-piece.
Things were not so fun elsewhere in the ground. “We’re fucking shit!” chanted an otherwise subdued home end. Green and white bobble hats were soon filing out into the night, bid a sarcastic goodnight by jubilant Pilgrims who’d have to catch up with their own sleep on the BUSA bus.
Perhaps they’d be dreaming of survival. Maybe we all are now.
Yeovil Town 0, Boston United 3, 2138 (73). ToD MOTM: Dylan Hill
