Carlisle United 1 Bristol Rovers 0: In the 92nd minute of this sun-streaked contest, Bristol Rovers flung the ball in and it broke to the edge of Carlisle United’s penalty area.
For the visitors, a chance. But also: no chance. The shot came in and it travelled a few inches before hitting an aggressive two-man firewall. Morgan Feeney and Jordan Gibson, a centre-half and an attacking midfielder, hurled themselves at it like bodyguards taking a bullet for the president.
It’s hard to say who got there first. No matter; someone took the blow and both men were thrown back in opposite directions, hitting the deck with a mutual clatter. Up they got. More work to do.
And the best thing? They looked like they really, really enjoyed it: the struggle, the suffering, the jarring pain. This was the beautiful aspect of Carlisle’s latest victory – that those tasked with securing it appeared to take a grim pleasure in the very ugliest aspects of it.
When ball had to strike cranium, United’s defenders shoved people out of the way to be first in line. When Bristol Rovers were fancying their chances, player after player stepped forward to prevent them.
Gibson’s cameo in the trenches was just one feature in a game of multi-discipline football from Paul Simpson’s XI. We have seen Jon Mellish burst from defence before to charge forward like a Border Reiver who’s forgotten his armour. What we’d seen less was Dynel Simeu, another centre-half, dropping the shoulder, playing the ball down the right then confidently cruising on to the edge of the opposition penalty area, craving a cross.
Yet here it was: all on show in this formidable duel in the sun. It comes, you have to say, back to the enjoyment factor. United are, it is plain to see, absolutely loving their work. The feeling from the stands is – no secret here – absolutely mutual.
After Kristian Dennis had poached the winning goal amid a personal performance of enviable standards, it pushed you towards thinking this was the best victory yet. Bristol Rovers were high-grade opponents. The game itself was never less than compelling.
And Carlisle – this side that, six weeks ago, looked broken, without identity, without hope – never allowed them to prevail. After a tricky opening 15 minutes, they forced themselves onto Joey Barton’s team. The second half saw this rumble continue.
There was muscle in their offerings against a side who played the snazzier football. The pragmatism Simpson married to footballing quality in his first Brunton Park spell is showing itself again by the week. United got the ball up the pitch, worked off Dennis’s quality control, weaponised the long throw, turned Barton’s defence.
Sharp elbows were always going to be needed against guests with exceptional players like Elliot Anderson. “What a great advertisement for League Two football that was – two sides who wanted to go about it properly,” Simpson said.
This was, all told, a tight but never dull encounter on a brilliant spring day. Barton’s team settled quickest, found their range, got Carlisle chasing. Sam Nicholson put the first chance wide, and Rovers continued to work sharp angles across the pitch.
United, though, showed strength to step forward. One focused attack down the right saw Joe Riley cross and Brennan Dickenson connect with a header that stretched goalkeeper James Belshaw.
Carlisle arrowed things down the left, looking for second balls, trying to put Omari Patrick’s pace against the defence. They were denied a Dennis goal by the offside flag but their play in general took the sting out of Rovers until late in the half, when Anderson threatened to take the game down a different road entirely.
The Newcastle loanee found a little too much space in United’s right defensive side and came close to making the Blues pay several times. Carlisle survived - and then much of their second half was deeply impressive.
New dad Mellish did not play as if sleep-deprived, defending wholeheartedly and with bright-eyed emphasis. One piece of hustling on Anderson brought a frustrated shove from the visiting star. It was a telling moment.
Then, the goal. Patrick’s flame had flickered for a while but then it suddenly ripped through Bristol Rovers. With slick skill, he left Luca Hoole in his slipstream on the left and when Gibson’s shot was blocked, the canny Dennis sniffed it out: just the sort of moment, and indeed the sort of player, that decides close matches like this.
After which, the endgame. James Connolly’s header, the outstanding (again) Feeney’s goalline clearance. Players dropping with cramp, exhaustion, a few necessary substitutions, Simeu defending, playing and growing beyond his years. A vital Mark Howard save from Luke Thomas, and a last-gasp Anderson cross that just evaded sub Harvey Saunders - but, crucially, not many more true scares. Aaron Collins, Rovers’ form frontman, was never a threat throughout.
For that, again credit United’s total commitment but also their relish for what was needed (plus a ballboy or two who joined in, much to the visitors’ annoyance). Andy Haines, the ref who sporadically agitated both sides, found eight minutes to add on, and when they were over a rib-rattling roar went up. With 15 points the gap, Simpson has surely saved the Blues already.
You take all this in and find yourself smiling even without realising it. Any chance it could be like this for the rest of our days?
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