by JAMES WATSON
NO.4 - PAUL CASEY vs Runcorn 15 November 1986
What turns an apparently ordinary defender into a ruthless psychopath? Is it true they seldom feel any remorse? And why do they often leave vital clues? All these questions must be asked about the sending off of Paul Casey in the F. A. Cup tie at Runcorn in 1986.
What made this dismissal great was not anything particularly exceptional about it in itself, but the way it combined all the elements of a typical Casey sending off; the electric Cup tie atmosphere, the crowd on tenterhooks, Casey even more highly strung, and the opponent lying prostrate on the ground.
To set the scene, United were on a dangerously useful eight-game winning run culminating in the epic 5-2 victory over champions Enfield the week before. Whether it was the innocence of youth or a particularly difficult period I was going through, in my adolescence, I actually remember thinking Runcorn away constituted a good draw!! So good were we I thought that it made sense to play another non-League team to enhance our chances of progression.
In reality, of course, it doesn't matter how good you are - Runcorn away is never a good draw. You could be top of the First Division by 20 points with Gullit playing in midfield, Maradona knocking in the goals up front and Steve McLaughlin trapping down the right wing; news of a trip to Canal Street should still be greeted by "Not bloody Runcom."
Casey, meanwhile, had spent the last couple of years of his career- developing a somewhat disturbing character trait. Hather as the full moon transforms a normal man into a werewolf, so the sight of the letters "F.A." on the fixture list every four weeks seemed to make Casey revert to the wilder side of a dual personality.
On Cup and Trophy days such was the range of Casey's sending off repertoire from the knee-high tackle to the right book to the- jaw that you almost expected him to be able to improvise in response to requests from the Main Stand. Indeed, towards the end of his spell at Boston he was becoming so adept that he almost always (as in this case) managed to take a member of the opposition for the early bath with him. (Clearly by the Leyton Wingate match he was losing his touch.)
And so to the game - United had the possession but (for a change) the opposition bad the goalscorer Mark Carter blasting past Carl "you need hands" Whitehouse from out in the wastelands of the left wing. One Ged Creane penalty miss and two cynical Ossie Smith fouls later, F.A. Cup glory seemed to be slipping away from United. Which is when Casey decided to take matters into his own hands.
With both he and his opponent Aspin already in the book, probably only a mild fracas was necessary to see them both sent off. However Casey was a true professional who left nothing to chance. Next time the ball came over a heavy challenge from Casey left both, on the floor; they writhed, they pushed each other and then the punches started flying.
By the time the referee arrived Sky and BSH were putting in rival bids to relay the fight to the States. The obligatory marching orders ensued, followed by Casey's uncanny and enduring ability to look and actually convince you that he'd been hard done by as he walked off. And that was that- the main event over, United. completed the formality of equalising only for party spoilers Runcorn to complete the formality of winning the replay.
Despite his suspect temperament, Casey did provide us with some of the best things about supporting Boston in the 80s- the 30 yarder at Runcom the year before, his flamboyant runs up and down the right wing, the blonde he took to every home game in. *86,.... to think of him as just a cog in the machine of Lincoln’s offside trap is almost, too much to bear.
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All content copyright Richard O. Smith 1988-2002