Sometimes these blogs write themselves. My fingers tap the keys in synchrony with a memory of the game. It is easy. I just sit there, sift through what is in my head and after a bit I'm looking at some words which sum up what I saw. It all sounds more than a bit pretentious to talk about 'creative flow' and 'channelling the inspiration of the universe' in relation to writing a football blog so I'll offer the phrase 'clatter out some shite that I'm ok with' instead to describe that process.
Other times it's a lot harder. I hate having to actually *think* - I only write shit for a sense of escape, the same reason I watch football - and when watching football feels like a routine task to be endured, then the writing about it will feel the same, only multiplied by the fact I'm reliving something I don't particularly want to.
(At this point, I should say, relative to other things in the world it's not *that hard* - I'm not yet thinking of launching 'Blog Aid 25' - a charity to raise awareness a bout the plight of shite bloggers who have run out of metaphors to use and therefore face an uncertain 45 or so minutes trying to sum up something that doesn't matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. I'm firmly aware that if you are reading this and have some spare empathy to apply to something or someone, them there are plenty more deserving cause for your charity in this uncertain and increasingly fractured world than self appointed 'fan wanker voices' who write shit that literally no one ever asked them to write.)
This is one of those occasions. Sometimes it just feels as if there's not really a lot to say. The universe is not speaking, the creative flow is all dried up, the shite just won't clatter itself out. It's Sunday morning, it's sunny, there are probably better things to be doing than trying to describe a very run of the mill lower league football match for people who already saw it and who, if they really want to relive it can simply click on a link and see the whole thing again from multiple camera angles any time they wish.
Still, what is a blogger, if there isn't a blog? They're nothing and nothing is a kind of terror. One day we'll all be nothing, everything will be black absence (will the black even be there if there's nothing?) and the universe will have collapsed in on itself and what is beyond the universe, help I'm getting a bit existential and this is definitely hangover fear talking... - I need to calm down... we're not there yet, so, in conclusion lets just shut the fuck up with the whining self pity and get some shite clattered out.
---
I think I need to start at the end to get work this one out.
Full time. There's some applause, there's some muttering and grumbling. The game has just finished. It didn't boil up into a grandstand finish, it just kind of petered out, something summed up by our last action being a long ball forward for Super Ashley Fletcher (there ain't nobody better) to run after and just stop as if he couldn't really see this game actually going anywhere either.
What led up to this moment in my memory was an awful lot of not a great deal. The abiding memory of the game is of an unsatisfying midfield wrestling match where Bolton knocked it about quite a lot to no great purpose and we occasionally had the ball and ran forward with it but didn't get anywhere very often.
Can I stop now? That basically sums it up.
Even our goal wasn't really very vivid. The way I remember it is thus: After what seemed like quite a long time of Bolton having the ball and looking quite dangerous, we got the ball, moved it forward (surprisingly) and then Dale Taylor had a shot that further surprised everyone by seeming to be going wide but then actually rolling very slowly into the goal, via the keeper. I was very pleased, of course (all goals are great goals and home debut goals by strikers you've paid quite a lot of money for who haven't done a lot up to this point are great, timely, pressure relieving and much needed) - but it's easier to write about thumping headers or rocketing drives, or waves of pressure building up and finally paying off - we just sort of 'scored' and nothing really seemed to lead up to it particularly.
That's no bad thing in and of itself, especially because we seem to have specialised in 'just sort of conceding' recently but it strangely didn't have the release and ecstacy of a typical derby day moment - possibly because, whilst there was good work from Taylor, it wasn't really the kind of thing we're desperate to see - a goal that is the result of good, cohesive team play and feels really deserved or earned.
I think what sums up the odd feel of the day best is, the offside goal that Bolton had chalked off felt more of a celebration than our actual goal - even before the game, it was remarked upon that it didn't really feel like the biggest grudge match of the season (indeed, of any season we're not in the same division as PNE) and coming, on the back of the previous home game (one of the best atmospheres in a long time) the day felt nervy and never really took off as a spectacle - the sort of 'oh, we've just scored!' surprise kind of typified that.
We did look a lot more organised today though. I can't remember too many moments of horrible confusion. There were a few (Ihiekwe being bailed out by a late free kick after dallying on the ball and something at the other end when BPF made a good save and then ran like a maniac somewhere where it didn't seem obvious he should be and they put the ball wide stick in the mind) - but overall we looked fairly disciplined and Bolton weren't able to walk through the middle as teams have been able to in previous weeks.
I can't remember us really threatening them either though. We had a nice move second half that culminated in Ash Fletcher having one of those moments where there are quite a few people better and putting the ball out for a throw in. It's difficult to read things at the other end of the ground sometimes - but it did seem as if Fletcher's effort had ended up being more effective at clearing the opposition's lines than a Bolton defender would likely have been. Such is life - Fletcher definitely had injected a bit of something when he came on and we looked more effective with two actual strikers than we did with a wingerish-strikerish-whatactuallyISbloxhamanyway? compromise up front - but with no Ennis, we never really seemed likely to get into really dangerous areas regularly.
Creatively, we really struggled. Morgan tried to prompt, but there wasn't an awful lot to work with. Honeyman ran sideways and kept the ball but he never really seemed to have the explosive turn of pace to get very far away from anyone or people gambling on his possession to pass to in space. Bloxham looked happiest drifting out from his central position to the right (a bit like a car whose tracking is off) and doing wingery things. He didn't look at all comfortable with the ball coming over his shoulder and needing to do strikery things, like holding it up, backing in and heading it. Taylor looks a good player to me - he's neat, he's aware, he's got a good touch and he obviously scored the goal, but he was otherwise pretty well contained and both strikers wanting to be 'intelligent touch players' isn't really a pairing.
Then we have have Emil Hansson.
Prior to the game, all I wanted was his inclusion in the line up. Little flashes of his ability in previous cameos had built him in my imagination into a kind of slight Norse god melded from the best bits of Paul Simpson and Sonny Carey, a surefire cult hero, a tangerine legend in waiting, the missing part of the jigsaw, the satisfying 'click' of a lock finally turning and a door opening on to a season of wing wizardry and general 'up the football league we go' antics - balls fizzed in from wide with swerve and dip, shots that cut off the turf and spin into the corner, just past the keeper's despairing outstretched fingers, going inside, going outside, full backs guessing and in trying to stop him, tying themselves in cartoonish knots.
The fact I've spent a paragraph making up an imaginary Emil Hansson performance should indicate that he fell *slightly* short of my high expectations.
Granted, there was one moment that spoke to my faith in his Nordic magic - a divine diagonal pass on the turn that, unlike almost any other ball that any of our players played, completely split their defence and gave us a moment of excitement. That aside though, there was mostly him looking entirely overwhelmed by the occasion and weirdly, totally devoid of the touch and pace and intent I'd seen flashes of. The same thing kept happening. We'd get the ball down (something we struggled with) and slowly, surely, like a rusty engine spluttering into life, we'd start moving it about, each pass giving us a bit more self belief, a little bit more sense that actually, these players could play together and move about and pass and that type of thing... then the ball would get to Hansson. Who literally just ran it out of play. Repeatedly. Not even a 'CJ tries to go past someone by toe punting it and running but he gets his toe punt wrong and the ball runs out of play' moment, where you can think 'well, at least you tried there CJ' - but more of a 'that looked weirdly like his just stepped out of play and didn't do anything at all to shield or retain the ball and even more strangely, he did that about five minutes ago and also ten minutes before that, so it's a bit mental that he hasn't altered anything about what he's doing'
I prefer the imaginary Emil Hansson to be honest. The real one gave a very strange, diffident performance which could perhaps best be described as 'like he'd woken up from a deep coma very suddenly in the middle of a game and didn't know how big the pitch or who anyone else is or actually what the precise rules of football are' - It was like watching someone with an uncertain memory of something he'd done before try and work out exactly what is he's supposed to be doing. The left wingers equivalent of when you walk to the kitchen then blankly stand there wondering for 30 seconds what it is you'd actually come there for.
The flipside of Hansson's weird half sleepwalk on the wing was the purposeful and energetic play of Danny Imray. He does look good. He's determined, aware, pacy, strong. He nicked the ball, he went forward, he intercepted at key points and he looked able to keep tight to an opposition player and time a challenge. I liked him. Coulson still gives me moments of fear at left back but in Imray, it looks as if we're closer to finding some of a functioning back four and crucially, one that can link with the midfield effectively and also defend. The best way I can describe him is - in a team that has looked concerningly short of an idea for much of the season, he exuded a sense of knowing what he was doing and why he was on the pitch.
Casey generally played with some certainty and to me, was unlucky with their goal (that BPF had zero chance with). Ihiekwe only nearly cost us a goal so that's a step forward. BPF overall was ok again and committed to what he did, Coulson only made me scream 'Hayden, getting fucking tighter' once or twice and the midfield three did contain Bolton for the most part, forcing them into quite a lot of hopeful but ineffective switches of play - which is a definite leap forward from 'stepping aside and letting them waltz up the middle' - we put our bodies on the line, we blocked well - Morgan as ever seeming especially willing and able to make a crucial interception or chuck himself in front of something that would otherwise have opened up for them.
There is therefore some sense of improvement. This was a performance which met a baseline of what is acceptable. It wasn't a performance with an awful lot to celebrate - the kind where waves of applause wash over the players time and time again and bloggers get all flowery and evocative - but it was better than the average for the season as to be honest, most of the time this season, we've been rank bad - and we at least looked drilled in the basics, able to spoil and largely, to put in a shift for the sake of each other.
The concern, however, is, that we showed almost no imagination, very little risk going forward and seemed to play very deep, particularly for a home side. Had we been away from home in the championship, or playing a Premier League team in the cup, then this game would have probably have rightly yielded a lot of credit for the way we'd dug in, spoiled and fought and limited them to a small number of chances relative to their possession - but it isn't that, it's a home game against a side we'd probably see as having roughly the same ambitions that we have, and we spent long, long periods playing very unadventurous football and posing very little threat at all.
Expecting everything to just fix itself in one game is of course, unlikely. This does give us something to build upon - we can put in a reasonably effective and committed defensive performance - and perhaps, in order to believe that we can attack with some flair and style, we have to know we can do the basics first. I'm not wholly sure I subscribe to that to be honest, but there's some logic to the idea that if a team keeps conceding shit goals, game after game, then the attacking play suffers, because psychologically, players don't want to risk the loss of the ball, because the loss of the ball can be punished harshly by the opposition.
Overall, this felt like a game that proved nothing. It felt inconclusive. It didn't banish fears but nor did it confirm them. As yet, the season is young, the hopes of a dynamic football team smashing the league up and leaving only a wake of tangerine joy has not yet materialised, but we managed to at least address the idea of us being a clown car crash side just running into each other and away from the ball and gifting calamitous goal after goal. We proved we can be limited, boring, rugged against one of the divisions better sides - and whilst that's not really a hugely satisfying achievement, it is at least better than imploding and giving them a first win in our own manor since Sid Vicious was alive.
Onward!
There is therefore some sense of improvement. This was a performance which met a baseline of what is acceptable. It wasn't a performance with an awful lot to celebrate - the kind where waves of applause wash over the players time and time again and bloggers get all flowery and evocative - but it was better than the average for the season as to be honest, most of the time this season, we've been rank bad - and we at least looked drilled in the basics, able to spoil and largely, to put in a shift for the sake of each other.
The concern, however, is, that we showed almost no imagination, very little risk going forward and seemed to play very deep, particularly for a home side. Had we been away from home in the championship, or playing a Premier League team in the cup, then this game would have probably have rightly yielded a lot of credit for the way we'd dug in, spoiled and fought and limited them to a small number of chances relative to their possession - but it isn't that, it's a home game against a side we'd probably see as having roughly the same ambitions that we have, and we spent long, long periods playing very unadventurous football and posing very little threat at all.
Expecting everything to just fix itself in one game is of course, unlikely. This does give us something to build upon - we can put in a reasonably effective and committed defensive performance - and perhaps, in order to believe that we can attack with some flair and style, we have to know we can do the basics first. I'm not wholly sure I subscribe to that to be honest, but there's some logic to the idea that if a team keeps conceding shit goals, game after game, then the attacking play suffers, because psychologically, players don't want to risk the loss of the ball, because the loss of the ball can be punished harshly by the opposition.
Overall, this felt like a game that proved nothing. It felt inconclusive. It didn't banish fears but nor did it confirm them. As yet, the season is young, the hopes of a dynamic football team smashing the league up and leaving only a wake of tangerine joy has not yet materialised, but we managed to at least address the idea of us being a clown car crash side just running into each other and away from the ball and gifting calamitous goal after goal. We proved we can be limited, boring, rugged against one of the divisions better sides - and whilst that's not really a hugely satisfying achievement, it is at least better than imploding and giving them a first win in our own manor since Sid Vicious was alive.
Onward!
You can follow MCLF on facebook, Twitter, Bluesky, Threads and Instagram or use Follow.it to get posts sent to your email If you appreciate the blog and judge it worth 1p or more, then a donation to one of the causes below which help kids and families in Blackpool would be grand.
Writing about football is possibly a bit pointless in an era when there's the telly and youtube and videos all over the shop. It's not my living this and it's just something I do because I do so there's no problem with reading it and then getting on with your life - If you do want to chuck some money at the cause of some random fella writing shit no one ever asked him too, then Patreon. is a thing.
.jpeg)
.png)
.jpeg)
