The Slow Match Report: Dundee 1 Dundee United 0

Light in January belongs to Dark Blues after the Battle of the Noisy Neighbours

Nothing stirred down in the city centre save for redundant Christmas trees rattling in the breeze. They were laid in gutters and between bins, felled for a second time. The starless, inky sky offered little comfort. On Reform Street two teenage boys emerged from McDonald’s and one asked of the other, “When will it not be January?”

To find the light we had to follow the scarves. In dark blue and white, and in tangerine and black, they noosed cold necks. Their wearers scaled mountainous Mains Road, breath left somewhere back towards the River Tay. Then, when they reached the Hilltown Clock, they saw them: blazing floodlights at the road’s end, lofty and shrouding dim streets with a hopeful glow. Up here it did not feel like January.

Many groups of five or six people had gathered by the Main Stand and nattered now about the recent Dundee derby league fixture and about life. Rather than form a scraggly circle as might be expected, a number of them stood in lines facing downhill towards Tannadice, and you knew they were United supporters. It is hard to look at your neighbour’s house when you can so easily check on your own, dark now apart from the bruised carrot gleam of streetlamps. Perhaps they were checking for burglars, vigilant Neighbourhood Watch committees in bobble hats.

Home fans mingled among them and there were nodded hellos, then outbreaks of street singing that came across more as throaty rehearsals than anything lairy. It doesn’t do to squabble or give way to altercations when you have to share a street. Perhaps when the Dark Blues move – lamentably, for this whole backdrop is a Wonder of Football – Dundonian rivalry will assume the modern bitterness of so many others.

That, though, is all for later. Tonight and tonight only mattered as they queued at the old kinked stand’s veteran turnstiles, which chatted like forced clocks when heaved. Late coming men lurched towards them, leaving a haze of boozy breath that cartoonists down the road at DC Thomson would once have delighted in drawing. Over it all hung a fog of smoke – the spoils of vaping, no doubt, but enough to award this scene the time travel sheen that so many of us supporters chase.

Inside, Dens Park crackled. Everything felt luminous, enhanced. In the minutes before kick-off United’s followers trilled their anthems first, which sparked the home choir into life. Soon we had that savoured atmosphere where both crowds competed timelessly in the manner of school assembly children divided into rounds, only here they were singing different lyrics to one another. All applauded in sadness and acclaim for the recently departed Denis Law and Jimmy Calderwood, men who worshipped the game like they do.

The arriving Dundee and United faithful exchanged pre-match songs - and the occasional friendly nod

The match kicked off amid further zealous chanting and howls of encouragement. With only a few seconds lapsed – and as some fans were still arriving, checking their tickets, peering at row numbers and then checking their tickets again – Dundee were awarded a corner on their right hand side.

Offering a secret set-piece code, taker Finlay Robertson raised both arms in the manner of someone signalling to their mates that they had found a table in a busy Wetherspoons. With his left foot, the gifted local then curved the ball straight onto the forehead of leaping Simon Murray, a fellow Dundonian. Murray prodded the ball in, a cat nudging open a door.

The two celebrated like children racing from school on the last day of summer term. They rejoiced in front of the South Enclosure young ‘uns, who went twice as wild, lost in the kind of delirium that seems to make whole stands shake and brains near explode. Early-goal glee almost equals last-minute-winner glee, and it showed. It was not so different in the Main Stand, where some must have remembered 1956 – the last time Dundee beat United in the Scottish Cup. Beneath them on the touchline, Terrors manager Jim Goodwin wore the forlorn look of a man who had encountered an unexpected Windows Update while in a rush to log on.

His team did not react swiftly. Instead, Dundee ploughed on relentlessly and passed crisply. They were propelled by Lyall Cameron, a gallant dynamo who seemed to glide over the turf. Short but bold, cunning and certainly silky, he looked like a tanner-baw player in a beep-test world. He and his teammates hassled right-back Emmanuel Adegboyega into passing the ball out of play twice in quick succession. The throw-ins that resulted permitted human trebuchet Aaron Donnelly to hurl the ball into a box whose constituents suddenly resembled animals during feeding time at the zoo.

Against the run of play, with a header United’s Ross Graham found an advertising hoarding instead of the net. Then Vicko Ševelj popped home a shot from the edge of the area; alas, referee Matthew MacDermid had already peeped for a Dundee free-kick. From the away end came a rapturous din that lasted until Terrors fans spotted MacDermid’s raised, disallowing arm. Curtailed halfway through, the noise resembled the moment that hushed attendees at a surprise party realise they have cheered the wrong guest. The United manager was perplexed by the decision and showed his outrage. “Ah sit doon Goodwin,” shouted a man across from me, “Ye’ fucking waxwork model.”

Jim Goodwin was offered words of advice from the home fans as their favourites conjured up the spirit of ‘56

His team improved as the second half progressed, perhaps suddenly comprehending the concept of time. Winger Will Ferry spurred much of their attacking play, though the number 11 on his shirt back was now obscured by touchline paint following a fall. It summoned thoughts of the numbering on a scruffily repurposed wheelie bin. Ferry helped conjure the chance that resulted in trenchant penalty claims from the United team and terraces. MacDermid waved them away with a double-handed gesture not unlike the Birdie Dance. Adding to this farcical portion of play, Cameron – of all people – pummelled a glorious chance over the crossbar as if his right foot had been momentarily replaced with a cast-iron anvil.

Through the final minutes United besieged the home half. A Ruari Paton strike from 12 yards was blocked on the line by Ethan Ingram, and Kristijan Trapanovski hit a post. Tangerine pressure, though, came to nothing. After five minutes of injury time MacDermid blew his whistle and a grand old roar filled the air. The singing continued as they departed away from the floodlights and into the black evening. Tonight, this street was theirs.