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da 888： If 19 games unbeaten or a sturdy resilience in the face of an imposing Southend side when it really mattered was not enough, the trip to Essex and Roots Hall on Wednesday night offered the final call in what has become this Crewe side’s coming of age.
The lead was a precarious one, handed to Crewe by the most delicate of back post headers by Adam Dugdale last Saturday evening, and many a betting man would have plundered the money the way of a Railwaymen capitulation given the years of forging a distinct reputation for vulnerability in the face of an intimidating atmosphere.
Southend had not shipped a goal at home since March and with the potency in attack harnessed by the experience of Freddy Eastwood, the brute force of Bilel Mohsni, the crossing ability of Ryan Hall and the supportive threat of midfielder Michael Timlin, it would be obvious Crewe would need to score again to stand any chance of withstanding the most thorough of examinations of a back-line that in the very nature of the club, bears the possibility of a glaring error or two with unerring frequency. The simple question was, would a young Crewe, managed by the relative rookie of a 6 month serving Steve Davis, buckle to the nous and stature of a Southend side managed by the wily, seasoned Paul Sturrock. The Alex duly went out and answered it with an emphatic “No!”
It was not the performance that will amble long in the memory, hallmarked by a fine opening strike by Ajay Leitch-Smith and the nimblest of finishes by Max Clayton, but the words of the superb Ashley Westwood when approached by the Sky interviewer in the immediate aftermath of the final whistle. The poser, “you should be so proud of your achievement for a group of kids” was instantly dismissed by the return “we don’t like being called kids” and with that came the true realisation that the old rationale of the club, one of a sole emphasis on tracking academy graduates through to the world of professional football, had been swept away to a world of results and mental-fortitude. Gone are the days that saw teams being able to carry out the old footballing adage of “mixing it”, so often gaining the upper hand on Crewe, for now this side can “mix it” too.
Bilel Mohsni was the projected danger man before this tie began but he was reduced to a peripheral force, offering just a few glimpses of his feral threat over the course of 180 minutes. A free header right at the death threw hearts into mouths in the away end, but it was comfortably gathered by Steve Phillips in a chance that summed his contribution up; from a fearful figure he had been reduced to the benign as he grew more frustrated and anxious the longer his influence was diminished. The tenacity in the tackle of Anthony Grant had somehow escaped punishment up until the 79th minute by referee Darren Drysdale, even a blatant scythe into the back of Nick Powell earned the 18 year old talent a remarkable yellow for diving, but Steve Davis’ side stood up to the gamesmanship that had so commonly been their downfall in the past.
There were shaky moments, Freddy Eastwood saw his effort chalked off for offside before hitting a post, either side of Timlin’s rasping drive smacking the opposite post, but Crewe had ample chances of their own to put the tie to bed before the obligatory barrage of pressure that usually accompanies the size of the prize slipping away from the losing side. Byron Moore somehow found the top of the stand where the home fans were positioned after seizing upon a woeful clearance from goalkeeper Cameron Belford and Leitch-Smith couldn’t bring the ball down to a composed level when put clean through, it looked with every passing minute, that such profligacy, continued in the second half as Nick Powell and Matt Tootle continuously contrived to waste counter-attacking chances with the utmost leniency, would be punished with the most heart-braking of blows. Pulses began to race when a cross was flung into the box and needlessly attracted Phillips for Neil Harris to prod into his vacated net. Southend had the momentum in their corner but Crewe’s youthful innocence chose not to play to the script. Max Clayton, introduced for Leitch-Smith, was released into the box by the most sublime of passes by an otherwise sporadic Powell, and illustrated the potential of his promising career that will roll on far past his 17 years by slipping a finish inside Belford’s near post.
Pandemonium, Wembley was in sight with that goal, clocked on 85 minutes, Southend would need two in the final stages but with events at Manchester City ringing in everybody’s minds, this tie was not over and Chris Barker gave a crisp reminder of that by nodding Ryan Hall’s excellent chipped cross over the line just minutes later. An Alamo ensued, but Crewe’s bunch of youngsters held firm to cling onto the 2-3 advantage that saw Wembley roll onto a touchable horizon. There was no soft-centre, see Morecambe, Doncaster, or Chesterfield for spectacular Crewe capitulations over the years, rearing its ugly head this time and the 774 fans that had travelled down from South Cheshire were sent into emotional raptures. The players and management team celebrated in front of them in a shroud of gratitude and Westwood uttered those immortal words, broadcast on screen for anybody who wants to reference them; “we don’t like to be called kids”.
That the transition from Dario Gradi’s soulless ineptitude that threatened to harm his wonderful legacy to Steve Davis’ ambitious new era will now culminate in a mass exodus of South Cheshire to the capital can be described without breaching any boundaries of hyperbole. It has been a massive, remarkable journey and it was fitting that Max Clayton, the face of Crewe’s future, should get the goal to take them to their fabled destination as Crewe Alexandra has always been about the future. Now however, they are also about the present.
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