Sometimes I think I might be a bit wrong in the head. The 4-0 dismantling of Barnsley didn't soothe all of my West Ham fears, and massed rejoicing about us 'playing the game the right way' all of a sudden didn't ring altogether true for me. It was better for sure, but all things considered, it was a dire Barnsley side, and there were long periods of frankly rubbish football being played by both sides. 4-0 seemed to lend the game a lustre it didn't deserve.
The first 26 minutes of the Birmingham game however...
Okay, maybe not all of those 26 minutes. The start was a little wobbly but then we settled into a nice attacking rhythm, with the ball on the floor, to feet, with a fluidity and creativity that had been in horribly short supply for the prior gawd knows how many games.
The reward for this bright start? Being 2 goals down. Shortly after the second goal, and the ball had been plucked from the net and placed back on the centre circle, West Ham collectively fell apart. The passes went astray, the tackles were missed, the marking went walkabout, communication disappeared and yet somehow, entirely against the run of play, we grabbed a goal. As quickly as the candle of hope had been lit, it was extinguished by a goal best described as 'fortunate'. Mis-hit, and struck downwards on the half volley into the turf, it popped up fairly unthreateningly, but somehow eluded the entire gaggle of West Ham bodies between it and the net. It looked calamitous, because it was calamitous. We were staring down the barrel of 3-1 with half time mere seconds away, and it felt rotten, somewhat unjust, but altogether typical.
If I'm perfectly honest, I expected nothing but more misery from the second half. That feeling was compounded by the withdrawal of Maynard, who as ever had looked lively and along with Vaz Te, most likely to provide goals. Carlton had merely looked like Carlton, and he stayed on the pitch, with Lansbury replacing the more promising looking Maynard. I banged my head on the arm of the sofa, and looking the cat square in the eyes asked "does Sam have the faintest bloody clue what he's doing?". The cat didn't answer, but as it turns out, Sam did seem to know what he was doing. Lansbury threw himself into the battle head first, and seemed to be at the beginning, middle and almost end of everything we were suddenly doing right. If Noble disappeared from the game after a bustling first half, then Nolan, who had been largely anonymous in the opening 45, appeared re-energised and with Lansbury orchestrated a great comeback.
Initially Carlton did nothing to suggest he shouldn't have been the forward being substituted, but while the referee continued to ignore penalty shouts and turn a blind eye to niggly fouls, Carlton took it upon himself to grow into the game, becoming increasingly dangerous as the minutes ticked by. The second half was easily one of the most breathlessly entertaining halves of football I've seen in a good long while, if only by virtue of the sheer effort being displayed by the home side. Some of it was pretty, but on the whole it was just an unending assault on the Birmingham goal. At some point after the second home goal, it seemed inevitable that we would equalise. That doesn't mean for a second that my heart wasn't pounding out of my chest, and that my nails hadn't been chewed back to somewhere near my elbows. It just seemed like this effort and endeavour couldn't result in anything less than a third goal, if not maybe, just maybe, a winner.
The winner never arrived, and with a win for Reading against Brighton on the Tuesday night, it wouldn't have made too much difference. Reading seem to be a juggernaut right now, and I fully expect them to take the title. Automatic promotion is gone for sure, but this comeback should provide all the confidence we need to mount a strong finish, and to battle through the play-offs. Sam needs to resist the urge to change a winning side, and to look long and hard at the positives of the last two games and realise that none of those positives are to be found among his usual tactics.
Our squad should have romped this division. When you look at what other clubs are making do with, and achieving, our tentative, wobbling end to this season is rather embarrassing. Expectations have been high simply because of the quality we boast in this second tier. It's certainly not a side that would compete in the top flight, but automatic promotion should have been nailed on.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
BOGOF....or Bog Off.
Two matches for the price of one. Crystal Palace and Cardiff. Two games, equally disappointing as we contrived not to get anyone sent off. It's frankly unacceptable.
Otherwise it was tricky to tell the games apart. Obviously the latter fixture resulted in a surplus of two goals and two extra points, but otherwise it was remarkably similar to the first. A lot of huff and puff, but little in the way of tactics or direction or football to admire. The Cardiff game did, I have to concede, feature a spell of pressure from the Irons in the second half where it almost looked like we knew what we were doing. Passes were strung together, and we seemed to be performing as a unit rather than a flat back 9 lofting it up to the too-short-to-win-headers Maynard. I feel for Maynard, poor bugger. This guy looks a handful. A bundle of energy, with a nice first touch, good control, bags of pace, and a refreshingly attacking instinct. I like him. A lot. Goals or no goals he adds a dimension to the team that we've lacked since Bellamy really. A succession of loanees up front, punctuated by the arrival of the revelatory Ba (until we dragged him down to the levels of performance expected by Avram), almost made me forget how forwards were supposed to play. Maynard has reminded me. Sadly, sparse opportunities to see West Ham on the television means that I've seen Baldock play for about 10 minutes in total. He looked sharp too. For those 10 minutes.
I'd like to comment on how Vaz Te looks up front, but he's stuck out on the wings, making a strong case for himself as someone who doesn't really play very well stuck out on the wings. I expect to see a lot of him stuck out on the wings. His enthusiasm and effort are not to be sniffed at, but, he's just not a winger to my eyes. God forbid Big Fat Sam should alter the system so that we're not reliant on wide men up front in his 4-5-1 / 4-3-3 / whatever it is formation. Yes, I know we're missing Taylor, and that Faubert isn't a long term solution on the right, but...oh, what's the point. You know Sam will stick stubbornly to the formation that only succeeds in isolating a front man who clearly loves the ball at his feet, rather than at his throat.
The Cardiff game at least had us in control, if only because Cardiff looked so wretched. We didn't look like we'd lose the game. The Palace game was just two teams bereft of ideas, or any kind of spark, doing their mediocre best not to concede. It was a hateful 90 minutes. Plenty of effort, and certainly not worth booing, not that I'd ever boo, seeing as I'd look silly doing it from the sofa, but it was still a game lacking in any entertainment value whatsoever. Rob Green emerged dignity intact with his usual couple of valuable saves.
Cardiff looked like a team still playing extra time in a Carling Cup Final. We should have been three goals to the good before people had even settled into their seats. Some defensive cock-ups on the home teams behalf forced their goalkeeper into action as Maynard carried on his 'he looks lively' streak. Nolan, back in the team after his....ummm...welcome(?) suspension was completely anonymous until he scored a peach of a goal. I guess that, right there, is his value in the team. Our other midfielders aren't netting, and he does. What do I know. Whatever my merits in being able to accurately discern what is taking place on a football pitch, Nolan did eventually become more of a factor in the game. Encouraged to push forward from what started out as a deep central midfield position, he did start to influence our attacking play, and filled the gaping void between everyone else and Maynard.
McCartney deserved his right footed goal after a lung-busting, never-say-die, bundling run down the left flank. There was no denying we deserved to be two goals up, if only because we'd fluffed earlier opportunities. That said, it didn't smack of a two - nil performance. The back four looked solid, and Faye is the perfect foil to Tomkins. Tomkins is now a classy centre half, and no denying it. Faye is a no-nonsense, get the job done, none shall pass, centre half. I wish we'd had him from the moment the club decided to whisk James Collins off from under the nose of Gianfranco. Noble put in another everywhere all at once performance, but like the game itself, it was all effort and little reward. Vaz Te looked marginally more effective on the wing...and then the other wing. It was bitty and patchy and fragmented stuff though, like my rambling writing. Doing a lot of stuff, but a lot of stuff rather ineffectually.
I shouldn't sniff at 4 points over two games, especially when an away fixture at Cardiff looks tricky on paper. I will sniff though. And I do sniff. Watching football shouldn't be this boring or unrewarding, even if the ultimate reward is the Premiership again.
Otherwise it was tricky to tell the games apart. Obviously the latter fixture resulted in a surplus of two goals and two extra points, but otherwise it was remarkably similar to the first. A lot of huff and puff, but little in the way of tactics or direction or football to admire. The Cardiff game did, I have to concede, feature a spell of pressure from the Irons in the second half where it almost looked like we knew what we were doing. Passes were strung together, and we seemed to be performing as a unit rather than a flat back 9 lofting it up to the too-short-to-win-headers Maynard. I feel for Maynard, poor bugger. This guy looks a handful. A bundle of energy, with a nice first touch, good control, bags of pace, and a refreshingly attacking instinct. I like him. A lot. Goals or no goals he adds a dimension to the team that we've lacked since Bellamy really. A succession of loanees up front, punctuated by the arrival of the revelatory Ba (until we dragged him down to the levels of performance expected by Avram), almost made me forget how forwards were supposed to play. Maynard has reminded me. Sadly, sparse opportunities to see West Ham on the television means that I've seen Baldock play for about 10 minutes in total. He looked sharp too. For those 10 minutes.
I'd like to comment on how Vaz Te looks up front, but he's stuck out on the wings, making a strong case for himself as someone who doesn't really play very well stuck out on the wings. I expect to see a lot of him stuck out on the wings. His enthusiasm and effort are not to be sniffed at, but, he's just not a winger to my eyes. God forbid Big Fat Sam should alter the system so that we're not reliant on wide men up front in his 4-5-1 / 4-3-3 / whatever it is formation. Yes, I know we're missing Taylor, and that Faubert isn't a long term solution on the right, but...oh, what's the point. You know Sam will stick stubbornly to the formation that only succeeds in isolating a front man who clearly loves the ball at his feet, rather than at his throat.
The Cardiff game at least had us in control, if only because Cardiff looked so wretched. We didn't look like we'd lose the game. The Palace game was just two teams bereft of ideas, or any kind of spark, doing their mediocre best not to concede. It was a hateful 90 minutes. Plenty of effort, and certainly not worth booing, not that I'd ever boo, seeing as I'd look silly doing it from the sofa, but it was still a game lacking in any entertainment value whatsoever. Rob Green emerged dignity intact with his usual couple of valuable saves.
Cardiff looked like a team still playing extra time in a Carling Cup Final. We should have been three goals to the good before people had even settled into their seats. Some defensive cock-ups on the home teams behalf forced their goalkeeper into action as Maynard carried on his 'he looks lively' streak. Nolan, back in the team after his....ummm...welcome(?) suspension was completely anonymous until he scored a peach of a goal. I guess that, right there, is his value in the team. Our other midfielders aren't netting, and he does. What do I know. Whatever my merits in being able to accurately discern what is taking place on a football pitch, Nolan did eventually become more of a factor in the game. Encouraged to push forward from what started out as a deep central midfield position, he did start to influence our attacking play, and filled the gaping void between everyone else and Maynard.
McCartney deserved his right footed goal after a lung-busting, never-say-die, bundling run down the left flank. There was no denying we deserved to be two goals up, if only because we'd fluffed earlier opportunities. That said, it didn't smack of a two - nil performance. The back four looked solid, and Faye is the perfect foil to Tomkins. Tomkins is now a classy centre half, and no denying it. Faye is a no-nonsense, get the job done, none shall pass, centre half. I wish we'd had him from the moment the club decided to whisk James Collins off from under the nose of Gianfranco. Noble put in another everywhere all at once performance, but like the game itself, it was all effort and little reward. Vaz Te looked marginally more effective on the wing...and then the other wing. It was bitty and patchy and fragmented stuff though, like my rambling writing. Doing a lot of stuff, but a lot of stuff rather ineffectually.
I shouldn't sniff at 4 points over two games, especially when an away fixture at Cardiff looks tricky on paper. I will sniff though. And I do sniff. Watching football shouldn't be this boring or unrewarding, even if the ultimate reward is the Premiership again.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Clatter and Blue: The David Forde Story
A win over Millwall invariably encourages hyperbole to come out of hibernation, and grant over excited compliments to a game. There was little in the way of good football in today's victory, but what the game lacked in technique, it did make up for in effort and industry, and no small lack of passion from Faubert and Noble at the very least.
Things started flatly with the usual Fat Sam team sheet of unadventurousnessosity. Then the game kicked off, and we barely saw the ball. Kevin Nolan barely saw the ball either when, in the 8th minute, he decided a two footed challenge was necessary to break up a non-threatening piece of Millwall play. Luckily, it was a challenge timed so badly, and so pedestrian in it's execution that no legs were broken. However, the intent was there for all to see, and I for one wasn't yelling at the referee to don his spectacles. I felt Nolan should go, and Nolan did go, meaning we'd have to see out 82 minutes of the game with 10 men. Great start. Nolan drifting even further down in my estimation.
Unsurprisingly, there then followed a passage of play, which felt like hours, where we were clearly rattled by the decreasing number of our players. The referee chimed in with some needless whistle blowing, and rendered about 20-25 minutes of the first half almost unbearable to watch. Slowly though, things were happening in Mark Noble's little Stegosaurus brain. Taking a good look around, he'd decided he'd had enough of our headless chicken approach, and proceded to take the game by the scruff of the neck. Faubert took notice, and clearly didn't want to be outdone. The two of them pretty much negated the Millwall man advantage, and pretty much negated the need of our other midfielders. Blood and thunder was all very good, and Noble and Faubert were certainly making us look threatening from time to time, but I still didn't feel there was a goal in us, but shortly before half time, there was a goal. A rather nicely taken goal too, from a man without a goal in 9 games. A looping, lofty, wafty ball with no pace on it was despatched goalwards from Carlton with a decent amount of power, and we were ahead, and looking comfortable for it.
If McCartney and O'Brien had looked a little vulnerable at times in the first half, Millwall had done little to push that issue. We were ahead by virtue of effort, and Millwall being worse than us. The second half got underway with little sign that we were a man down, and just as I was about to start thinking the introduction of Taylor for the scrappy and ineffectual Collison was going to propel us towards a second goal, the game entered a phase of unadulterated rubbish.
A bitty, disjointed handful of minutes slogged their way by, and then the previously blunt looking Millwall were level. We'd looked wobbly and were duly punished by a well taken goal from Trotter (no relation) in the 66th minute. Then, when I sensed a collapse might be on the cards, Noble and Faubert remembered that they had been largely running the game and stepped things up, and just 3 minutes later the Irons were celebrating a goal, while Millwall, and David Forde in particular, were wondering where the whistle had gone to. Faubert aided by a spoonful of momentum, a sprinkle of cynicism and a large dose of myopic refereeing, clattered into the Millwall keeper Forde, after a surging run forward. Forde remained on the floor as the ball pinballed it's way back to Winston Reid. I didn't have any particular optimism that a defender, a good distance out of the box, was going to profit from Faubert's clumsy removal of the keeper. Reid clearly had other ideas, and calmly, and sweetly, stuck the ball in the back of the net.
Unsurprisingly Millwall slumped like a team who'd have some of their stuffing removed. We looked in control, occasionally threatened a 3rd, and afforded ourselves the luxury of removing Faubert for O'Neill, continuing his comeback from the Reo Coker inflicted injury that had threatened O'Neill's career. Good football was still largely lacking, but a spirit endured in our play. True to form, we then endeavoured to make the last 5 minutes of play, and the added 5 minutes, a reasonably awkward period.
Far from pretty, aided in no small part by Millwall being rubbish, and a very lucky break in Faubert not being punished for a cynical body check, there was at least encouragement from a never say die charge lead by the impressive looking Noble and Faubert. When needed, the defence stood up, and Cole chimed in with a much needed goal. We had a short glimpse of newly signed Vaz Te, and his hair. Green was quick off his line to snuff out a Millwall chance, and as usual, I couldn't help thinking he was the player we most needed to hang on to after our relegation. Nolan's suspension could be a blessing. We certainly looked better without him and down to 10 men, than we have done with him on the scant occasions I've managed to see us play this season.
A welcome win after the dispiriting 5-1 drubbing by Ipswich. There was character on show, but in truth it was another display that lived up to the Fat Sam (mostly apocryphal) myth of clumping it around and not conceding while showing little tactical acumen...but then again, what do I know? We're still top, we won, and we did Millwall. That's gotta be a collection of good things right?
Things started flatly with the usual Fat Sam team sheet of unadventurousnessosity. Then the game kicked off, and we barely saw the ball. Kevin Nolan barely saw the ball either when, in the 8th minute, he decided a two footed challenge was necessary to break up a non-threatening piece of Millwall play. Luckily, it was a challenge timed so badly, and so pedestrian in it's execution that no legs were broken. However, the intent was there for all to see, and I for one wasn't yelling at the referee to don his spectacles. I felt Nolan should go, and Nolan did go, meaning we'd have to see out 82 minutes of the game with 10 men. Great start. Nolan drifting even further down in my estimation.
Unsurprisingly, there then followed a passage of play, which felt like hours, where we were clearly rattled by the decreasing number of our players. The referee chimed in with some needless whistle blowing, and rendered about 20-25 minutes of the first half almost unbearable to watch. Slowly though, things were happening in Mark Noble's little Stegosaurus brain. Taking a good look around, he'd decided he'd had enough of our headless chicken approach, and proceded to take the game by the scruff of the neck. Faubert took notice, and clearly didn't want to be outdone. The two of them pretty much negated the Millwall man advantage, and pretty much negated the need of our other midfielders. Blood and thunder was all very good, and Noble and Faubert were certainly making us look threatening from time to time, but I still didn't feel there was a goal in us, but shortly before half time, there was a goal. A rather nicely taken goal too, from a man without a goal in 9 games. A looping, lofty, wafty ball with no pace on it was despatched goalwards from Carlton with a decent amount of power, and we were ahead, and looking comfortable for it.
If McCartney and O'Brien had looked a little vulnerable at times in the first half, Millwall had done little to push that issue. We were ahead by virtue of effort, and Millwall being worse than us. The second half got underway with little sign that we were a man down, and just as I was about to start thinking the introduction of Taylor for the scrappy and ineffectual Collison was going to propel us towards a second goal, the game entered a phase of unadulterated rubbish.
A bitty, disjointed handful of minutes slogged their way by, and then the previously blunt looking Millwall were level. We'd looked wobbly and were duly punished by a well taken goal from Trotter (no relation) in the 66th minute. Then, when I sensed a collapse might be on the cards, Noble and Faubert remembered that they had been largely running the game and stepped things up, and just 3 minutes later the Irons were celebrating a goal, while Millwall, and David Forde in particular, were wondering where the whistle had gone to. Faubert aided by a spoonful of momentum, a sprinkle of cynicism and a large dose of myopic refereeing, clattered into the Millwall keeper Forde, after a surging run forward. Forde remained on the floor as the ball pinballed it's way back to Winston Reid. I didn't have any particular optimism that a defender, a good distance out of the box, was going to profit from Faubert's clumsy removal of the keeper. Reid clearly had other ideas, and calmly, and sweetly, stuck the ball in the back of the net.
Unsurprisingly Millwall slumped like a team who'd have some of their stuffing removed. We looked in control, occasionally threatened a 3rd, and afforded ourselves the luxury of removing Faubert for O'Neill, continuing his comeback from the Reo Coker inflicted injury that had threatened O'Neill's career. Good football was still largely lacking, but a spirit endured in our play. True to form, we then endeavoured to make the last 5 minutes of play, and the added 5 minutes, a reasonably awkward period.
Far from pretty, aided in no small part by Millwall being rubbish, and a very lucky break in Faubert not being punished for a cynical body check, there was at least encouragement from a never say die charge lead by the impressive looking Noble and Faubert. When needed, the defence stood up, and Cole chimed in with a much needed goal. We had a short glimpse of newly signed Vaz Te, and his hair. Green was quick off his line to snuff out a Millwall chance, and as usual, I couldn't help thinking he was the player we most needed to hang on to after our relegation. Nolan's suspension could be a blessing. We certainly looked better without him and down to 10 men, than we have done with him on the scant occasions I've managed to see us play this season.
A welcome win after the dispiriting 5-1 drubbing by Ipswich. There was character on show, but in truth it was another display that lived up to the Fat Sam (mostly apocryphal) myth of clumping it around and not conceding while showing little tactical acumen...but then again, what do I know? We're still top, we won, and we did Millwall. That's gotta be a collection of good things right?
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