FA Cup Third Round Preview – Fleetwood vs Blackpool

It’s the game literally nobody is calling the Golden Mile Derby and yet the very romanticism which comes from the words “FA Cup”, “derby”, and “Blackpool” is enough to attract wizened old football hacks from behind their laptops for nostalgic musings on how the game used to be in their days. Stanley Matthews, working man’s game, sandcastles, potted shrimps, where’s my expenses form for heaven’s sake?

One side of Lancashire’s coast line is the former bustling port of Fleetwood, where fishing trawlers are as rare as the bicycles needed for the ones that got away. The former docking port now houses shopping arcades and housing estates with redundant names acting as faintly ironic plaques: Quayside, Harbour View, Bayside. Some of the best chippys and run down B&Bs sit side by side, oversized 60?s cafes in formica brown look out towards the Wyre, buses and coaches shepherd tourists and day-trippers to mooch around Bench, M&S, and Next outfitters.

Tucked away on the bus route is Highbury, the decently maintained home of Fleetwood FC, who currently hold themselves as high as nosebleeds will allow at the right side of the Blue Square Premier Division. Last week, the “Cod Army” gave promotion rivals and near neighbours Southport a New Year’s present to remember; a six-nil drubbing and crowd trouble at Southport’s own golden age time-capsule Haig Avenue.

Run-me-down holiday heritage is not how Blackpool Borough Council would have you label their town; since breaking free from Lancashire County Council some years ago, the town has tried to dust itself off and build itself up as the place to go for tourists regardless of pocket depth. Cheap and cheerful entertainment still abounds – though now the entertainment can stretch from Jane McDonald and the Grumbleweeds to Björk and the Bombay Bicycle Club. Ooh, and One Direction…

Anyway…if nothing else characterises ‘renewal’ these days it’s getting to the bit of Soccer Saturday where your summariser has his face on screen, which Blackpool enjoyed for nine months last season when the town’s club finally achieved promotion to the Premier League. Their light was bright, rapidly extinguished and a lot of fun – Charlie Adam had his services retained by a Liverpool side in need of…his….work….and Ian Holloway has secured his place on every compilation video from here to doomsday.

Blackpool opened the gates for other smaller Championship sides to play in their own style, unapologetically rough and ready and with big names eschewed with loyal workhorses. Continuing the grand tradition of ruffling the hair of plucky little sides, the mainstream football media tended to patronise and overlook: what they ignored was Blackpool’s work-rate and can-do spirit. Their relegation may have been inevitable: it still denied the top league of English football much of the character and inventiveness needed to save itself from tippy-tappy tedium. All that and perhaps one more thing – Blackpool in winter might not defeat stoic northern women in knee-length skirts but it sure does unsettle Mediterranean midfielders denied their snood.

Things do look good for a Fleetwood team who have rarely troubled this time of the year in cup competitions. Their newest signing is England “C” captain Danny Rose, whose attacking role high in midfield has been attracting the raised eyebrows of sides far further up the football ladder. Currently second in the Blue Square Premier by a single point, the Cod Army know the balancing act between league success, money spinning promotion and bragging rights over their brashy neighbour will probably result in one of their aims smashing to the floor. Blackpool has face to lose, of course, though the money is doubtlessly less pressing.

It’s not been particularly easy for the Tangerine men this season – shaky defending against Birmingham on New Year’s Eve was very much par of their current course. Gary Taylor-Fletcher might not be on form at the moment but Matt Phillips is still banging them in and even Lomana LuaLua got on the scoresheet during the impressive 3-0 defeat of promotion hopefuls Middlesbrough.

Uneven form at the best of times is, really, the worst of times which makes the FA Cup clash against puffed-up near neighbours all the worse for its timing. What should be guaranteed is a shake and shine of that old footballing magic – enough to persuade any jaded scribe worth his rail-pass to don a cowboy hat and hit the candyfloss…