West Ham on the road to Wembley. It's wishful thinking but you never know.

 West Ham on the road to Wembley?  It's wishful thinking but you never know. 

We've all been here before. There were those agonising moments when West Ham almost succeeded but then found that the FA Cup had been cruel and betrayed them at the final hurdle. It's now 41 years since those of us with claret and blue arteries experienced that triumphant day in an FA Cup Final and yet the trophy cabinet at the London Stadium remains threadbare and full of cobwebs. The dust is rapidly gathering, the fans totally disillusioned and the rumblings of discontent are growing in volume for every season that passes without any tangible reward and nothing to tell their grandchildren about. 

But in a small corner of East London the drums will be thundering out resoundingly across the Westfield Shopping Centre in Stratford. Because this year is their year, our year, the one with destiny written all over it. We are now aware Tottenham have now monopolised the FA Cup bragging rights when the year ends in a one. This season has been though quite the most unusual and unique of any football season. The new season began back in September as opposed to the week or two before the August Bank Holiday. 

Yesterday afternoon amid battleship grey, wintry skies, West Ham comfortably moved into the fifth round of the FA Cup with a leisurely, insouciant air that must have deluded their fans into thinking that this was their turn to win one of the most coveted trophies ever to be awarded to any team. Of course, West Ham's seemingly untroubled progress to Wembley may well end in defeat at either Liverpool's Anfield or Manchester United at Old Trafford in the next round of the FA Cup but certainties in football have never been set in stone. 

In recent years West Ham, as is their custom in recent years, would have struggled to beat lower-division opposition and have invariably bowed out of the competition with their tails between their legs, shamefaced and utterly humiliated. Last seaon it was West Brom at home and before then AFC Wimbledon who were bottom of their League at the time. So there seemed no reason to suspect that yesterday would have produced a similar outcome. Stranger things have been known to happen and they certainly did. 

The third round of the Cup had seen West Ham give their marching orders to non-League Stockport on a saturated, muddy allotment site and when the rains came down at Edgley Park we sniffed the sweet odour of a giant-killing. But Craig Dawson, now a seasoned trooper, joined his colleagues for a corner in the last minutes of the game.and leapt high to head the ball into the net for West Ham's late, late winner. 

For West Ham though this was not the customary banana skin that would have sent them packing in any other season. Suddenly the FA Cup has become very personable and friendly to the East Londoners but for those who have paid the penalty of pinning our colours to the mast, our fears were understandable. The dreadfully embarrassing defeat to Hereford during the 1970s now seems like an aching wound that simply refuses to heal. Then there was the narrow 1-0 victory over Kidderminster Harriers during the 1990s while Wrexham once came to Upton Park and beat the Hammers 1-0. 

However, this was not the vulnerable and gullible West Ham of old. This was not the wobbly, jittery and nervous West Ham who once had their tummies tickled before turning over and toppling out of the FA Cup. In any other season, West Ham would have been the subject of much mockery and teasing derision. What did we tell you about West Ham? They just can't hack it when the moon is quite clearly in the wrong position and they lose against teams of what would appear to be inferior, sub-standard opposition.

When the whistle went in Stratford to signify full time, West Ham were relieved to have all of their feathers intact. Now their Premier League status had not been tarnished and undermined by one of those teams from lower down in the League who must have been convinced they could capitalise on West Ham's inevitable anxieties and ever-present stage fright. Their chin would have been exposed, the guard down and before you knew it the East London side would have been out of contention for any FA Cup glory. 

Yesterday at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon had intruded on us when few knew that even this seemingly outdated concept would have been dismissed as some rare novelty. This year's Premier League season has now assumed some weird and chronologically silly complexion. Now the fixtures seem to be strategically scheduled and squeezed together into close proximity. There are the matches played just after the early evening TV news, matches on Tuesday, Wednesday and of course Thursday in a tight, confined space and no consideration given to the overall welfare of any of the players.

West Ham did beat League One Doncaster Rovers but a vast majority of their supporters must have been watching the game at home on TV denied the pleasure of witnessing their dearly beloved team completely outclassing the visitors. This was perhaps the most preposterously one-sided FA Cup match in the competition's star-spangled history. Quite how Doncaster must have thought this was their day is anybody's guess. Then of course we then discovered that Doncaster were only here as neutral admirers, setting out for a day out in London town even if the whole of London had been declared a no-go zone.

From the kick off, West Ham went straight for Doncaster's jugular, weaving, knitting and sewing their festival of passes across the centre of the London Stadium pitch. For the first time in ages West Ham looked like genuine world-beaters. There was the dawning realisation that maybe Doncaster had come down to the capital city with capitulation on their minds but were defiant to the bitter end. By half time this fourth round FA Cup tie was over as a real contest and West Ham just tripped the light fantastic, completing a couple of jives, the tango and the waltz, cohesive, harmonious and quick-witted. 

At the back of West Ham's defence Issa Diop, Fabian Balbuena and Ryan Fredericks carefully built and then strolled forward like inquisitive observers at a fireworks party. Diop admittedly did look awkward at times but Ben Johnson, one of the many promising academy players at West Ham was venturesome, enterprising and always looking to break into the Doncaster half at the first opportunity. Then Ryan Fredericks began to look like the kind of full-back West Ham were hoping he'd be. Fredericks plunged into attack, overlapping intelligently and pulling back low, cut back-crosses that Doncaster simply couldn't hold onto. 

After only five minutes or so the home side were in front. Andriy Yarmolenko, Ukranian winger who could have delivered so much more to West Ham, found his feet. Played up front on his own deputising for the rested Michal Antonio, Yarmolenko was bright, lively, spritely, electrifying at times on the flank and then there was that deceptively lackadaisical approach where the game seems to pass him by. Yaromolenko was forever stepping over, tricking and taunting his defender, dragging back the ball too flamboyantly and then accepting that this was not the way he'd penetrate Doncaste's stubborn defence. 

The home side's opening goal was swift, ruthless and marvellously executed. Yarmolenko, sensing that Doncaster had no idea how to handle him at any stage of the game, started trudging menacingly. The Ukranian flank man collected the ball near the touchline, shuffled along and then gathered pace, tricking, fooling, deceiving and easily wrong-footing the visitors defence. He then laid the ball perceptively into the stride of  Ryan Fredericks whose sharp cut back across the visitors penalty area found Pablo Fornals, a quick -thinking, influential midfield play maker, who came charging across his defender to sweep the ball home for West Ham's first goal.

Just over the half-hour Fornals, Manuel Lanzini and captain Mark Noble took it in turns to move and rotate the ball skilfully and constructively, passing movements of the highest quality, flicks, tricks, delicious one-twos, wall passes galore that occasionally reminded you of the Brazil of 1970s, the Germany of a decade or so and the French World Cup holders.  One-touch football at any level is sheer nectar to roll around the mouth, a decorative ornament that stands out from the mundane and a beautiful, aesthetic sight to behold.

Noble, with almost too much time to weigh up his attacking options, fed an educated through pass after a piercing run and then the increasingly prominent Said Benrahma fed the ball accurately into the path of Yarmolenko. The Ukranian, always alert to Benrahma's lovely movement, darted onto the ball and ran behind the Doncaster defence to clip the ball wide of the Doncaster keeper and into the net. It was almost certainly mission accomplished. 

When West Ham skipper Noble floated over his corner and into the heart of Doncaster's penalty area a regiment of players went up and unfortunately for the visitors the ball seemed to be sucked into the net off Andy Butler who just seemed to help the ball over the line with his thigh, an own goal to forget in a hurry.

 Three goals to the good the second half now yawned interminably since the visitors had long since thrown in the proverbial towel. West Ham were now cherishing and protecting the ball almost affectionately, stroking the ball around with an almost proprietorial ease rather like some family heirloom that may need to be dusted down every so often. West Ham now flaunted their finest finery and most appealing costume.  

And then West Ham did some substitute swapping of their own choosing. First Oladopo Afolayan, a young claret and blue whipper-snapper came bounding onto the pitch as if hardly believing his luck. 24 hours earlier Afolayan had just finished an Under 23 match for West Ham and now he was exposed to the very glamorous glare of the FA Cup spotlight. With minutes to go the youngster, breaking elegantly into Doncaster's now gasping defence, tuned into his team-mates wavelength. A neat ball from Noble was precisely weighted to Fredericks, powering towards the by-line and then firing a shot at the keeper who couldn't hold the full back's shot and Afolayan joyfully rammed home the rebound for a debut first team goal. 

So it was that you could honestly say that you had sat down to see your team's first televised 3pm match on a Saturday afternoon. It was a very revealing insight into the way football and TV can come together and find common ground with each other. Of course there were no football supporters in the ground and of course this just feels morally unacceptable with every passing game. But taken in context this was a rewarding way of spending your Saturday afternoon even though it still doesn't feel right. Still, this was the FA Cup and football just loves to embrace tradition. Don't we all.