Am I Evil? Yes I am.

It is around this time of the year that goodwill is wished upon all men, with the hope that peace may flourish throughout the lands. However, the reason why this is wished for is because there exists an Evil amongst us. A big nasty angry Evil which if you're not careful may takeover and rule. On Boxing Day afternoon at Spotland, that was exactly what happened. Evil ruled the world.

This was a game and a half. If you'd have asked me before the game what would have been the perfect afternoon, I don't think you could have got much better than this. We could have battered Shrewsbury 10-0 and we wouldn't have walked home with bigger smiles on our faces than what we did.

It had everything. The script was full of drama of returning heroes, yet it was the name of Lee McEvilly who rang out from the terraces at the end of the game. Grant Holt is superman? Then Evil is a big shining rock of kryptonite. Holt may well have had the skill, the brains and the moves, but it was Evil who had the anger and the endeavour and you couldn't argue with his selection as man of the match even though he was only on the field for twenty odd minutes.

The first half belonged to the visitors. It was a half of few chances but it was far from being a dull encounter. If anything, the cagey first half set the scene for the second half, like a couple of boxers eyeing each other up for the first few rounds.

There were mini duels all over the place, whether it be TK versus their winger, Toner versus their entire midfield, the world versus Grant Holt and Ramsden versus the referee's notebook. It was entertaining stuff.

The Holt battle was great to watch. It probably took something like this to appreciate just how good a player Grant Holt is. It's one thing to see him cause problems to defenders up and down the line, but when you see him dictate terms to normally unflappable defenders that we see week in week out, then it's something completely different.

Despite the odd cat call from the stands from those who seemed to believe that Grant Holt should have walked on broken glass and played for Dale for the love of the badge, the boy Holty was in sparkling form and he had the Dale defence dancing to his tune.

We struggled to really dictate the pattern of the game, with the bulk of the play taking place in our own half. Thompson had a couple of half chances, and Shaw looked like something might happen without it actually happening, and there were a few shouts of anguish in the direction of the referee, but that said, the official did his best in what probably wasn't the easiest game to officiate in.

But it was the second half where things kicked in. The gloves were off, and the two teams went for it.

The break had certainly done us more favours than it had for the Shrews. Perhaps the wind had more impact than what we thought it, but we came out more up for the game than Salop were, with again the bulk of the play taking place in the Sandy Lane half of the pitch. There was a more attacking element to our play and you got more of a sense that we could win this game than you had in the first half. So unquestionably, it was going to be the Shrews who took the lead.

The previous paragraph might suggest that we were battering Shrewsbury at this point, which we certainly weren't. The game had become incredibly open and Richard Walker could have took the lead after being put clean through. But the script would always state that Grant Holt had to score the opening goal.

And what a goal. It was a strike to rival anything he scored for us, and was even up there with that goal against Macc which still has Danny Swailes and Scott Warner scratching their heads. If you weren't at this game, then think Gazza against Scotland in Euro 96, with Rory McArdle playing the Colin Hendry role. He lifted it over the former NI U-21 captain's head before letting rip. A stunner of a goal which was rightfully applauded on all four sides of a fuller looking Spotland.

Enter Lee McEvilly.

Evil had been on for a matter of minutes. But something sparked inside him. Alfie has often been called unplayable in recent weeks for some of his performances, but it was Evil taking that trademark today. He played like his life depended on it, chasing everything that he could and even things that he couldn't. Evil was on fire and there wasn't anything the Shrews could do about it.

We were rightfully awarded a free kick on the edge of the box which had many of the home supporters crying out for a penalty. With Evil stood behind the ball, we all knew what to expect. You wouldn't want to have been in the wall to face this, and there were even people in the Sandy Lane getting ready to duck as the expected thunderbolt came in. But the wall more concerned about self preservation, Evil fooled everyone in the ground by almost passing the ball through the wall like a fast bowler chucking down a slower delivery. The Shrews keeper stood motionless as the ball bypassed him.

And from now on, there was only ever going to be one winner and one man to score that winning goal. The visitors had run out of steam and ideas and all that was left for them was to see whether they could hold on against a rampant Dale side, with fitness levels that we simply take for granted.

That winning goal was on the way, and it came via what appeared to be an Adam Rundle header. Honest. A Keltie corner was headed goalwards by someone who appeared to be Adam Rundle only for it to be blocked on the line. It was Evil who reacted first and somehow it ended up in the back of the net. 2-1 to Dale, and job done.

You'd have thought it was a little early in proceedings to celebrate the win, but after Evil's winning goal, it would only have been us to add to the scoreline as we tore the Shrews defence to bits at will. Bamboozled I think is the word, as Rundle and Dagnall started bringing out their party tricks with Olés celebrating every Dale touch. The Shrews may as well have thrown the towel in. They had nothing left to give.

So there we had it. We had the joyous return of the prodigal son, and then another Rochdale comeback with a feelgood factor to rival any Boxing Day Hollywood blockbuster. The smiles were beaming.

In the end, it reminded me very much of my days as a youth playing Championship manager. I always preferred it when all you had to do was go out and sign the best players and success would automatically follow. How Paul Simpson must wish that football management was as simple as that, as there was no Tonton Zola Moukouko to save him today.

The difference between the two sides was that one had the players with the impressive footballing cv's and the equally impressive wage packets, whilst the other side had the hungrier players with a shared belief in what they were doing, put together for a pittance of what the Shrews side cost.

The American marketeers would probably call it something dreadful like Team Rochdale. Who cares what its called. It's something beautiful to behold. I love this club. Thanks Keith.

Photo: Action Images

Rochdale Polls