West Ham beat Cheltenham in the Carabao Cup.
Last night's match between West Ham and Cheltenham was sponsored by an energy drinks company. What next? Perhaps a rugby union match sponsored by a firm of fertilisers, a cricket match backed by a local haberdashery, or a tennis match supported by Marks and Spencer? What can the world be coming to when Britain's favourite sport - or one of its favourite sports- should have to be financially dependent on Red Bull's distant cousin.
But here we were at the beginning of the old League Cup journey, bright eyed and bushy tailed and now the start of the West Ham venture into the unknown in the first Cup competition of the new season. The League Cup is now known as the Carabao Cup which does sound wonderfully exotic although football and drink are hardly the most ideal of commercial partnerships. It should be pointed out though that no alcohol was involved in any of the negotiations which made this arrangement possible.
So deep in the heart of rural Gloucestershire, West Ham United notched up their first win of the season and after two bruising opening Premier League defeats at Manchester United and Southampton an evening spent in the bracing air of the English countryside lifted West Ham to the rarefied heights of a place in the next round of the Carabao Cup.
At the beginning of the second half you looked over the stands and terraces of Cheltenham's quaint little Whaddon Road ground known as the LCI Rail Stadium and wondered if you'd encountered a brief glimpse of Thomas Hardy country. The supporters were jumping and stamping their feet, rocking and rolling blissfully as if happily aware of the evening's uniqueness and importance. This was the Carabao Cup or the League Cup and they were not to be denied their enthusiasm and animation.
Over the rooftops of the LCI Rail Stadium a beautiful peach coloured sunset decorated the early evening Gloucestershire sky. For the best part of a couple of minutes it shimmered and glowed, a broad strip of peach and apricot appearing on the horizon, then darkness set in authoritatively before the night arrived properly. Then West Ham added their very own bright palette of colours as if darkness had never visited them in their opening two Premier League matches.
The League Cup of course has always been regarded as English football's poorer relation. This is not to suggest that the League Cup is like an uncle who lives in a dusty attic with nothing but a paraffin heater for warmth wearing mufflers in the winter. No, this uncle has got a substantial amount of loot in the bank although not quite as much as the FA Cup which is now sponsored by a Saudi Arabian air company. For Carabao meet the Emirates. Surely no contest.
At the beginning of the 1960s a very officious and businesslike man named Alan Hardaker invented the League Cup and throughout the years the League Cup has limped painstakingly along its rutted road, occasionally the butt of merciless jokes and then grudgingly accepted as part of football's luxuriously upholstered furniture. Still the ridicule has followed the competition around rather like like a bad smell. The League Cup though has shrugged off its critics almost admirably but you can't help but think of it as that threadbare cushion on your sofa that everybody sits on.
Still the FA secretary Hardaker always believed in his creation and knew that the League Cup would grow up into a healthy adult and a well adjusted adult into the bargain. It's hard to believe that all those years ago Aston Villa beat Rochdale in the first League Cup Final and Aston Villa would feature in one or two League Cup Finals in the competition's later years. Rochdale of course sadly stood still as a football club and for Rochdale there was never any hint of upward mobility. They would remain in the Football League's basement with only Gracie Fields for company.
Now though the League Cup is a passport to European frontiers and used to be a visa into the old UEFA Cup now the Europa League. It's hard to follow the rules and regulations for any of these English Cup competitions because none of us can be quite sure when the matches are going to be played, on which TV channel and whether we'll be snoring on the sofa at kick off. It's enough to play havoc with anybody's body clock.
Last night the Hammers overcame League 2 opposition Cheltenham. Now I know that League 2 used to be Division Four and is still possibly perceived as the greasy spoon cafe of the Football League's noble pyramid. But Cheltenham approached this match against Premier League opposition with all the confidence of a side who refused to be daunted by their supposed superiors. Sometimes football snobbery can be too much to take so maybe Cheltenham had nothing to fear after all.
Fortunately this game went exactly to plan for West Ham and the status quo was maintained. For the first 15 to 20 minutes the match itself was much of a much muchness, neither here or there. West Ham were nervous, unsure of themselves but eventually settled into their surroundings rather like new neighbours adjusting to an uncomfortable environment. Quite what West Ham must have made of their opponents is anybody's guess but West Ham gradually grew into this League Cup tie before reaching full adolescence by half time.
Once again West Ham had to wear those dispiriting black shirts which have to be worn away from home. Their first three Premier League games have been played away from their London Stadium which has so far proved a major hindrance to any further progress. The two defeats at Old Trafford and St Mary's have left nasty stains on their home claret and blue shirts. Still West Ham easily dealt with Cheltenham in much the way the locally famous racecourse horses handle a lengthy gallop.
West Ham controlled the game for much longer periods than maybe they'd expected. Of course there were worrying and apprehensive moments but for those who have followed the club so faithfully this is more or less the way it's always been. The game remained static and lifeless but after sporadic Cheltenham raids and threatening excursions West Ham began to win that vital second ball, threading their passes together with decisive intent, their attacking movements developing their own tempo.
At the heart of their defence James Collins, celebrating his 34th birthday, looked like one of those battle hardened warriors who may have seen one too many bloody conflicts over the years. Complete with thick ginger beard and a fearsome looking presence, Collins gave a masterclass in central defending, a tall, muscular centre half whose lightning quick interceptions and sterling sturdiness spread utter re-assurance at the heart of the Hammers defence.
With Angelo Ogbanna providing valuable cover as his centre back ally, all brawn and brain, West Ham started to assert themselves, building their customary free flowing passing style and then spraying the ball to all of the pitch's far flung corners. The young 18 year old Declan Rice is one of West Ham's new breed of youngsters, an academy product who the club must be hoping will eventually emerge as a first team regular on a consistent basis. The old Upton Park academy has had little to boast in recent years with only the Joe Cole, Michael Carrick and Rio Ferdinand generation providing any recent comfort.
Rice looks very careful in possession, composed on the ball, hearteningly accurate in his distribution and, dare we say it, clever and cultured. As one of a claret and blue persuasion it would be lovely to think that Rice can make that important breakthrough into the first team before becoming considered for frequent inclusion in the not too distant future. But Rice is one among hundreds of British players who may have to be content with prolonged loan periods and it may too much to hope that players such as Rice can guide West Ham into a gilded land of glory and triumph.
And so it was that Rice with Pedro Obiang skilfully patrolling the middle of the pitch and Diafra Sakho and Andre Ayew bustling and hustling industriously for the ball as West Ham's twin pronged strike force, it was only a matter of time before West Ham broke down Cheltenham's brave attacking contributions to the game. West Ham scored two in rapid succession and Cheltenham, within a couple of the game's match defining moments, fell apart at the seams.
In a dizzying blur of passes on the edge of Cheltenham's penalty area, Hammers captain Mark Noble sent a perfectly weighted slide rule pass through to Diafra Sakho. Sakho, almost pirouetting on his toes , swivelled, turned sharply and then gently rolled his shot past the Cheltenham keeper as if he'd done the same thing in training over and over again.
Minutes later West Ham were further in front. Football can be the cruellest of games and if Cheltenham thought they'd coped competently with West Ham they could think again. Another witty and intuitive exchange of passes in the Cheltenham area saw Andre Ayew run purposefully out wide to receive the perfect ball, swiftly tucking the ball past a frozen Cheltenham keeper. Game over for Cheltenham and for West Ham the new season had flared into life.
In deepest Gloucestershire, the huge acres of nearby farming land and those sweet smelling meadows could once again settle back into the familiar routines of every day life. Cheltenham had enjoyed their evening on the Sky TV main event show and it was good to be on the back pages of newspaper history if only fleetingly. Maybe there should be more football nights like this one. Perhaps we've underestimated the Carabao Cup. It has to be preferable to the Watney Cup.
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