94/95 was a confusing season for us Blues. The stats will show that like the season before our survival wasn't that comfortable, and although Brian Horton ended up losing his job i personally remember us having the makings of a decent side, a front three who were well capable of causing anyone bother, a fairly expansive style of football and us earning several memorable results, not least the performance the Saturday previous to this game, an exquisite 5-2 spanking of Spurs infront of a rainy Maine Road crowd. Indeed, going into this match we were on a relatively decent run having amassed eighteen points from our opening eleven league games, including a 2-1 win at Loftus Road two weekends earlier.
Anyhow, to the game, and a windy Tuesday night in that London, and heads in hands within a matter of seconds as the home side switch the ball out to future Blue Trevor Sincliar on the left-wing straight from kick-off, who in turn whips a low ball into the box and onto the shin (or knee, i forget) of Moz-enthusiast Kevin Gallen, who'd inched ahead of the better Brightwell to score within fifteen seconds, 0-1. We half-heartedly threaten to equalize for the next half-hour until Nicky Summerbee somehow manages to successfully half-volley a scorching equalizer across the QPR 'keeper whilst just about staying on his feet and seemingly running away from goal. Back in it the, eh? Not really. Within seconds we contrive to let the then mulleted Danny Dichio amble through our waiflike defence like he's Maradona before crossing from the right to let the completely unmarked Sinclair give the Hoops the advantage once more.
The second half began as intensely as the first had ended, little Walshy sandwiched between two defenders and earning us a penalty. Keith Curle, the almost always reliable spotman stepping up, converting and doing a bit of a silly dance infront of the travelling support, if my mind serves me well. 2-2 then, shaping up nicely, and not so long afterwards we were infront. Walsh forcing a good stop from the R's goalies, Peter Beagrie crashing in a rebound (Alistair Mann's screams have stuck with me!). The game, despite a looping header from the badly moustached Gary Penrice in the dying minutes, was over shortly after, the in-form Stevie Lomas adding a fourth before diving arse-first onto the turf infront of the celebrating masses.
As with any year we manage to past the 4th Round or so in a cup competition i distinctly remember feeling that our name was on this trophy this particular year. A brilliant replay win at Newcastle followed, before we were drawn away at Palace in the 5th. Less said about that performance the better i suppose, but it sticks in my mind for the sheer quality of the goals we conceded. We were spanked 0-4 in a game that saw the opposition score four absolute pearlers, all from outside the box, i think i'm correct in saying. Ah well, shit competition anyway!
Team:
Dibble, Edghill, Phelan, Curle, Brightwell, Flitcroft, Lomas, Summerbee, Walsh, Quinn, Beagrie
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