After the fear and loathing of last week, Blue met White on either side of the Hillsborough. A grand setting beneath a grey sky. The set back against the Millers an even greater backdrop as McCarthy’s men went back to Championship grindstone. Only Knudsen a preferred change as 442 met 442 in a finely balanced encounter.

The lead almost out of Reach for the hosts as the one time Town target beat the offside trap and met a neat through ball with a diagonal run. Today he was a winger, but moving into striking distance his marker Chambers took the ball off of him. Immediately Bart found Ward in acres of space. With the charge down the wing, Didsy did as he does and dropped shoulder and man to make himself available just outside of the box before turning and lashing Town’s first effort past everyone and everything and out of touch.

The game progressed in style. Town moved the ball in motions and gestures that suggested no lack of confidence. The defence and midfield happy play across the width of the pitch. It was clear that Webster is growing a fast rate. Central to more than just our defence, his looping passes result in one of three things. They find their man on a dime from tens of yard away. They stretch defences and force action and reaction alike. Or they miss their mark completely and give away the impetus and sometimes more.

With the Owls on their own run that feels more like they stand still in this division all too often, it was a match where the atmosphere was palpable. Returnee Knudsen worked well to find Berra and Lawrence, but this new style did not always fit and more than once the left side played themselves into danger with the impressive Bannan on hand to catch us out.

The diminutive former Villain was driving Wednesday forward. Running away from his man and even going down unjustifiably and winning free kicks in baffling fashion. Having dallied on the edge of the Town box before smashing his own effort just over, he later went on to fall at Lawrence’s feet and push him in the face as some sort of celebration at stealing a set piece.

While Town may have been finding their mark with many of their passes, they often lacked the man in the middle to make the most of a new vitality. McGoldrick might find Ward or Sears with a clever turn of limb, but it meant there was no one in the box to really challenge Westwood. The man that eluded Town many transfer windows ago looked more in danger when the strikers came from midfield and pressed him into kicking and groping possession into touch.

The technical capacity of Town to move the ball drew the respective oohs and aahs they deserved, but also the sense of panic when one went astray. Wednesday had more than just Bannan to test and tear at our defence. Lee as ever lively and Fletcher when not pretending to draw fouls, drew encouragement from a barely audible home crowd.
Around half an hour, the lively Lawrence opened his account with a rocket. Stealing the ball from his opposite man around the half way line. He ran. Then some more. Cutting in he seemed to beat the entire Wednesday team. With a screaming drive the match ball left his boot and hit the net having scorched Westwood’s path. The Leppings Lane end erupted in applause and appreciation.

Ipswich had little time to catch their breath, nor the game alight. Lawrence overlapping with Knudsen to defend well and concede a corner. A bizarre routine from the home side was seen again with added pushing. All their attackers standing in a huddle seeming to break loose in the box like shrapnel and cut the defence asunder. Chambers again was the man to block a goalward effort.

When the home side went again from the right Bart got down swiftly and palmed away a delicious shot. Hooper was yards out and broke free to devour an easy tap in. Parity restored and the promising build ups from Town were countered with too many shaky moments as the half drew to a close. The appeals for offside that came with the equaliser, as confusing as some of the more routine decisions the officials made throughout the contest. It was no laughing matter unlike one offside that was given as Lee looked to the linesman before diving to the floor near the six yard box, hoping his flag might wave in his favour. Such was the dearth of chances in a match that was all about the approach.

Both sides came out unchanged in personnel, but Wednesday’s Portuguese has a distinctly Italian streak it seems. Tweaking his formation several times in the half, Mick kept us a resolute 442 in the face of the Yorkshiremen riding in all directions over the tactics board.

The steadfast approach may have been our undoing as the impressive Webster again proved a little green. Showing his man inside only to recover with little composure and going to ground in the box. It was just enough to put Lee off who scuffed his shot wide off the rebound from Bart.

With little edge to the game, but some clear frustrations Carvalhal brought on the gravity-challenged Forestieri to draw blood for the Owls. It was no surprises Chambers and Fletcher picked up cautions as the match took a more eye catching turn towards the referee to decide where the points went.

Town made a change of their own with the understated Bishop making way. The reliance on Webster’s wand meant that simply keeping possession with concise passing was welcome but with Skuse in the side, you’d have hoped the midfielder would have found more room to play. When he did albeit once, he sparked a nice link with the front two. However the change meant Town reverted to just one up top.

With it every mouth moved, by every attack muttered “Here come Johnny Williams” he’s runs are like liquor and drugs, and I welcome the hangover and health risks they might bring. Intoxicating and dizzying at times, he propelled his colleagues forward as the away end almost sucked the air from beneath Wednesday’s wings.

The home fans feared our defensive solidarity, and although not every pass found every man. Our tackling and teamwork seemed to. Kept to good runs and poor shots, Town looked to upstage even themselves when Webster took on his customary charge forward. It took four men and forty yards to see him come stuttering to a halt. Again unable to find the shot or sight of goal you quietly pray for as he competes with the heavens for your last breath.

Wallace came on again to move Wednesday in the middle, and from out wide his pace and guile tested Knudsen who had had a hard return to the front line all afternoon and dealt with it ok. The support from Lawrence as he competed with Chambers for the MOTM award a big factor. The Welshman made way for Kevin Bru. The fires of discontent Mick might well sit above, clearly not seeing a change in him giving a damn for the sticks and stones hurled his way. The befuddling Mauritian sat centrally as a body to stem the flood of a home side looking for a rare win in this fixture.

With asymmetrical five between McGoldrick and the defence Town were handed belief with every surge forward. It seemed like every attacking player had a touch from Skuse’s rare forward drive. Across the goal from Ward and all between, Sears would be shut out when it mattered. The hardworking attacker ran his heart out all game as did the man we got from Spurs on the opposite side and it was these unforgiving yards that ultimately seemed to fatigue Wednesday.

With the lead looking ever more illusory the smell of treachery and zealotry hung in the air. An inflatable dinosaur caused ungracious chants toward its keeper, a lone pariah amid fantastic support. Meanwhile Williams in almost the same spot as Hooper failed to find the net, somehow clattering the ball off keeper or defender when a goal looked certain. Hard work beats talent, when talent doesn’t work. The cliché could only be bettered by Ward’s dynamism down the right touchline. Felled as hope seemed fading. Berra and Webster colluded at the back post, asking for different deliveries. The Scot mimed loudest it seemed as he hung, headered what looked like enough to break the series of draws, before who else but the Captain quartered the ball in mid-air and crashed home the winner.

Subs and colleagues mobbed the man of the moment. Hugs and handshakes and everything between broke out above as they celebrated below. The few hundred who made it, breathless for a heady moment. Not long after, the Leppings Lane seemed louder than nine choirs in saluting “Super Mick”.

It could have been more. Williams denied previously, prodded into the home flank and found McGoldrick. One of many with cross-team affiliations he cut inwards again but failed to find the net with a shot that went wide, shortly after Varney another former loanee in Sheffield blue and white made a bow.

At full time the players sauntered towards us. The appreciation all theirs as the mob roared on a recently rare pump of the fantastic Captain’s fist. Mick, somewhere off in the distance of the technical area. He too an onlooker. As hundreds move tonight from S6 to Ipswich in the glow of an excellent win, three points and plenty of talking points.

Whether Mickxit makes you hard or soft, what better metaphor for protest than today’s inflatable dinosaur. Small, cheap and slowly running out of hot air as it is cast aside under the jubilation of Town rising.

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