Scrapped. Won! - the Mighty vs Mansfield Town

Here we go again. Am I ready for this?

Yep. Of course I am.

I've prepared by watching a 90 minute documentary about a massive disaster where loads of people died. Perspective and all that.

Saturday was a 90 minute disaster where people only lost the will to live, rather than their *actual lives*

So it's all good. The SS Tangerine sails again, on this crisp and clear evening. Surely, to surely to surely to surely to fucking goodness we can't be *that bad again*

I liked Evatt's reaction. I liked the sense of the squad and him, sharing some kind of meltdown and coming out with some conclusions. I like that he cares. It goes a long way. The basic gist seems to be - be faster and go forward more often. That will do. Slowly and sideways loses the race.

Let's see if we can do it.. .

The Horse plays. Ennis starts. Things look a little bit brighter.

---

We start poorly. We're second to everything. I feared this. We all feared this. Ian 'tracksuit' Evatt feared this. Mansfield are that drilled and physical team who are greater than the sum of their parts that bully us and fear has been a theme of the season. They seem in our faces, direct, we seem rushed and uncomfortable., an effort fizzes wide, a long range shot scraps over the bar. 

Yet, as time passes, we don't seem second best anymore. We grow into the game. We start to track them better, we win some tackles. Jordan Brown begins to have the kind of ugly but effective game he's capable of. - despite an early-ish booking he disrupts play fairly well tonight. We start to find Clarkson a little bit of space to play in and he responds with a couple of first time balls that are worth the ticket price on their own. 

They run the ball out of play as we press. We're roused from our slumber. Bloomfield Road is far from the cauldron it can be. Mansfield made all the noise but as the game progresses, their fans begin to falter a little and we finally begin to pick up. Not so much a cauldron perhaps, but at least a pot with a few bubbles in it. 

A corner, Fletcher comes as near to scoring as it's possible to be without making contact with the woodwork.

Ennis is a nuisance. You forget, after months of absence how effective he is. Always tangling with defenders, trying to spin them, send them over his back or shimmy and put them on the wrong foot. He moves, he drags people around. Fletch pulls deep, Ennis goes wide. This is actually a bit like a forward line. 

Here's the man himself, he's come short, he flips it out wide, CJ, now CJ, c'mon, that little push and run, the pull back, Ennis again, a touch, space, shot YESSSSSSSSSSSSS! YESSSSSSSS! 

Its a proper strikers goal, a lovely finish crisp and neat, precise and powerful. It's deliberate, purposeful. It's such a novelty to have someone up with Fletcher who knows exactly what he's doing and how we've missed him.

---

It's a strange atmosphere. The applause at halftime seems almost cautious. It's like being on a date with someone who's broken your heart before. It seems to be going well but it's much better to protect yourself. You can't just trust implicitly.  Not after last time...

There's a lovely moment, just after the whistle when Bloxham, coming out to warm up hugs Ennis and seems as thrilled with the fact he's back and scoring as Ennis himself must be. More of this sort of thing.

It's almost like team spirit. 

---


The second half is about two questions.

Firstly, how long can Ennis do? He's integral, he turns fairly vague passes into moments of pressure because he understands exactly the angles of runs to make. A good striker can make a poor team a threat and fuck me, we were poor without him last time out, so every minute he's on the pitch is a minute I'm happier with life. 

Secondly, how in the name of fuck did Fraser Horsfall barely play for the first part of the season? The big man is marvellous today. Regular readers of this blog won't be surprised by the fact I've fallen for the big lad who plays with his brain as much as his body. He's rugged, he wins everything in the air but he's also positionally immaculate, making the game seem easy because his focus is unwavering. He carries the ball, he plays the ball beautifully, he talks, he holds the line. He gives as good as defensive performance as I've seen in some time but he also plays his part in making us a threat at set pieces and ensuring we don't get too penned in.

He's simply, outstanding. 

We make a few chances, Clarkson with a near post shot after excellent work from Fletcher, teasing the ball down the line, keeping it alive when he had no right too. Karoy has a chance but his touch is heavy and he seems to panic a bit. I like Anderson. He's a bit manic, but manic energy is energy and he's up and down the pitch. Not every decision is right or every touch high class but he's there and doing stuff, not just trotting about and pointing at others. 

The answer to the first question is 'about an hour' - Tommy Bloxham is summoned from the fields of medeval England and off goes Niall. We lose the edge that Ennis gave us and the familiar frustration of a big, fast lad, with good touch but for whom the ball won't seem to stick to at all are there again. He has one cracking moment though, a right wingers moment, racing on, wide, skinning a man, crossing. It comes to nothing but he looks more comfortable there than he does elsewhere. 

As Mansfield come into it more, Coulson's soft wash perm replaces CJ. He's done ok tonight, one glorious run infield to the heart of the box was almost a Blackpool career highlight but now they're turning us round and the change is the right one. Coulson makes a few good challenges, the back three are put under more pressure and are largely equal to it, they get behind us just the once really, a moment where, despite it seeming offside, it isn't and they miss a gilt edge chance at the far post. Other than that, whilst they press a bit, there's a few hopeful efforts that BPF has easily covered and not a lot else. 

Bowler replaces Clarkson and has a couple of runs, the first of which leaves you begging for the moment to cap it off, a twisting, mazy effort, past, 1,2,3, something from a high plain to anything else on the pitch, but the final ball is an inch too heavy. 

The ball in the corner. We wrestle, we win some free kicks. The clock ticks down. The whistle goes. We've seen it out like a team with a vague idea about what we're doing. 

Thank fuck for that. 

--- 

It wasn't pretty but it was at the same time kind of beautiful. It was exactly the riposte we needed to the shit show of the weekend. A tough, physical and confident opposition and we went up against them and whilst it was close, we edged it and we took the points. 

It was far from flowing football but I wouldn't single any player out for criticism. That's not to say there were 14 vintage performances, but there were 14 performances which showed a base level of application and playing for each other. Sexy football can wait right now. 

We limited Mansfield and what particularly pleased me is we responded to early dominance and managed to wrestle the initiative from them. Of the players I've not mentioned, I thought Raul Walters again played well, showing again that he's a nice blend of athleticism but no little skill too and that he's willing to take a risk, to back himself to drive forward and to back himself in a duel, whether physical or in a dribble. I've been critical of our transfers but I'd say all 3 recent signings make us a better side and most of all, they bring the much needed youthful verve that we've missed all season. We look less half arsed, less knackered, with them in the team. 

It's a 1-0 win against a side who almost certainly cost less than we do so lets not get ahead of ourselves - but it's exactly the kind of game we needed to win to convince ourselves we can win further games of football like this, of which league 1 serves up plenty. We can beat 'nice' teams who let us play but there are less of those games than there are of this kind.

This feels like a line in the sand where some kind of minimum has been established. It's certainly not where we hoped to be putting a line when the season started but where we are now, it's where the line needs to be. It was a fight and we fought. We didn't click into top gear and play dreamy football, far from it - but our heads didn't go and to repeat a key point again, we played for each other, we covered each others mistakes which in a season where there's been too much throwing arms up in the air, putting hands on hips and melting under pressure, is not to be sniffed at. 

All hail the Horse! 

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.

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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 - but 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.

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Drifting dangerously - the Mighty vs Plymouth Argyle

Right... 

What to say... ? This isn't the easiest blog I've ever written. 

It's fine if you want to stop before it starts. I mean, at the best of times this blog isn't an exercise in in self discipline, so y'know, I'd totally understand if you want to metaphorically leave before it gets ugly with long sentences and metaphors from 6 paragraphs before being returned to in a way that doesn't fully make sense and do something more constructive with your time. This isn't going to be a linear journey from A to B. I think we may digress at points. That's yer health warning. It's up to you. 

Lets initially cut to the chase.

The game. 

Fuck me. Fuck my fucking life. Fuck the curse that was put on me. (and you. We're all in this. We must have done something collectively really awful in a previous incarnation.) 

I don't know what to say about it.

It was shocking.

Like, actually shocking.

Generally, when people say a performance was 'shocking' I think 'was it? really?' because it's not actually a 'shock' that you've just lost 2-1 at home to, I dunno, Barnsley or Rotherham and actually, the 'shocking' performance tends to be fairly typical of a league 1 game and what's happened is one or two mistakes have been made and one team has got the better of the other and actually, you can make a case for how it might have been different.  I mean, c'mon. If you've supported us for more than 10 minutes, you can't actually be shocked if we lose 2-1 to Stevenage or someone. It's been my fucking life apart from about 6 seasons for fucks sake. 

This game though, was actually, shocking. I've always done my best not to say 'spineless' and 'gutless' and 'abject' and all of that - because y'know, those words get used a lot and they cease to have any meaning but if I carry on writing, they're going to get used here.

There was no world in which that game ends up in our favour.  We don't even come slightly close to not losing it. The referee was a stupid twat dressed as a drink of Vimto who gave an absurd free kick when CJ got sort of near goal once, but lets be honest, that's hardly a moment like the Lampard goal against Germany and to cite that as reason for hope is delusional. 

Partway through the second half, looking at Crainey giving a good impression of a bloke with a kind of emerging PTSD on the touchline as Argyle poured forward again, I asked myself, 'why am I still here?' and I couldn't find an answer. This was as bad as it has been in a long time. 

In this blog, I've always tried to find the positive and to praise as much as condemn. Football is a brutal and unforgiving game. I deeply respect the effort and fortitude of the young lads who live out their professional lives on the pitch in front of a baying mob of one eyed, foaming at the mouth, often pissed up half paying attention but ever 100% certain critics. I am really, really going to struggle to do a positive spin today.

I mean, I could say 'they all had their shirts on the right way round' or 'there was a nice range of haircuts' but in terms of collective praise for their team play, overall effort, general sense of unity and execution of a game plan, I'm really struggling to think of anything that is even a neutral comment, let alone a positive. 

In terms of individuals, the task is equally demanding. 

Things I remember looking upon positively amount to: A really, really nice first time pass from Clarkson. Walters sometimes running forward with the ball and looking like he had some level of fitness. Bowler generally looking like he gave a fuck and trying to do something. I think that's it. I could be wrong, I don't know, I don't really want to think about it. 

I've nothing more to say. I could describe their goals, but why? Just watch them. It's the same shitty goals we always concede. 

I'l tell you what they felt like though.

Imagine an army marching upon what looks like a castle. They stop, prime the cannons and load up the trebuchet. The first shot is fired. The castle walls just fall over. It turns out it isn't actually a castle, it's just some pallets nailed together and painted to look like a castle. The advancing army rejoices. The vanquished defenders hang their heads, hastily re-erect some of the flimsy walls and then the whole thing repeats with an inevitable outcome as the pathetic facade of pretend defences gets flimsier each times

It's not fair to just blame the defenders and the goalkeeper. We also failed completely to attack. To further the ye olde military metaphor, what looked like muskets aimed from the ramparts, turned out to be empty water pistols.

I've not looked at the statistics but I don't remember us having any kind of semi convincing effort on goal or even more than a brief flicker of pressure. This was a home game against another team in the wrong half of the table. It looked like a non league team against an in-form Premier League side. There was an inevitability about it, they looked fitter, faster, better with the ball, better without the ball. They dominated us and we just seemed to accept it as if we were Matlock Town and they were Manchester City. Reading that back, it might be a little bit hyperbolic, but the gist is true, you can argue about the size of the gap, but the central point, that we were totally outplayed, is beyond reasonable doubt. 

What else to say?

It was, not for the first time this season, a total waste of my time and I'm getting actually, really, properly, no irony here, genuinely fed up with turning up, seeing us be shite and going home thinking 'I enjoyed that less than had I done something else' I mean, watching Obafemi literally hop round the pitch for 5 minutes whilst Ennis and Bloxham warmed up, then us bringing on Bloxham out of the two (which can only leaving me concluding that Ennis is far from actually fit or Evo's mental because why would you not bring him on) - I can't think of any way to frame that as anything other than grimly depressing. 

I looked at us and thought 'why can't we tackle?' - players would get to the right place, look like they were going to win the ball and then just, well, not win the ball. Time and again.I thought the same about aerial duels as well.

It's those things you notice in a mismatch. One team just does the basics better. One team looks like the peak of physical fitness and conditioning and the other not. It's the difference in touch and control and the pace of the pass. It's the way that's true throughout the team, so overall the  effect is multiplied and it seems hopeless to even try after a certain point. We've been outplayed too often this season for it to be not actually worrying now. 

I actually, genuinely thought 'if we put Horsfall upfront, at least we'd get some possession at the other end of the pitch and have some impact there' - I'm not being sarcastic either. We were totally toothless and yet again, when we can't play football, we can't do anything, because we can't win the fight so going direct is pointless. It's only been a problem basically since Madine left but hey ho. I mean, there's no rush to solve it and give us an option which every other fucking team appears to have. 

Were this a one off, were this a strange, anomalous blip of a game then I'd probably have written 8 sarcastic paragraphs about us being shite this week and then something vaguely optimistic about football being football and hey, we go again it's the great game, owt can happen and that why we love it really and if we didn't get caned from time to time it would be boring etc etc etc.

Onward...  

... being shite though, is becoming habitual.

We're on a trajectory of decline. Not just the last few weeks. The sending off at Port Vale hasn't derailed an otherwise faultless season, the last few years haven't been glorious near triumphs, we aren't playing some brand of bold exciting football which warms the soul as much as it frustrates, we aren't pluckily battling above our level, clinging on and fighting for our lives with sinew and bone and muscle. It's just depressing regression. The first season in League 1 was boring competency. We're now really *actually* shit with a 'meh' season in between. That is a slow but clear decline. 

To enjoy football, we don't have to win all the time. Football, is, of course, about wanting to win, trying to win and hopefully winning more than not, but generally speaking, fans will accept things other than a 100 point title season if there's other things going on. That could be a style of play, a sense of overall development, an atmosphere, a feeling that everything is being given, that there's a purpose and an intent and if you've reached a ceiling, then that everything is being tried to get the little bit of extra you need to survive or push that little bit further. Our motto is 'Progress' and progress isn't 'promotion right now or we riot' - but equally, 'Progress' is the opposite of 'regress' 

What I get from the club at this point, is not that sense of everything being given. Ian Evatt is not the object of that point. It feels, almost moot to discuss the manager. It feels like blaming the tyres for the fact the car won't start. We've gone through manager after manager and it hasn't got any better. We've gone through player after player and still, Jimmy (love him as a I do) is there trudging about getting sent off like it's 2020 and CJ is still the lightning rod for all the world's ills and we look less and less convincing as time goes by. 

We keep rebuilding with a different style but each time, it seems like the castle is made from flimsier bits of wood and gets knocked down more easily. We have brief periods where, freshly painted and propped upright, in the right light, you think 'yeah, that looks ok' but then, each time, the truth of the thing becomes painfully evident. It's not a castle, it's actually a load of fucking shit. 

In a recent interview, it was put to our CEO, that we were 'drifting' and he audibly bristled at the idea. 'No', he said, and cited a range of things we'd done, like 'stitching the pitch' and various infrastructure developments.

Now, it would be wrong not to acknowledge where progress exists. The pitch is, indeed, excellent. The developments around the ground are great. The rail seats are exactly what we need (barring rebuilding the actual Kop and ideally the scratching sheds and south and west paddocks too,) Rob Purdon's murals are fucking amazing and, i dunno, the retro shirts are quality items and actually, in the realm of overpriced tacky football merchandise, really well executed and a decent price. We've got the Oystons out of the attic as well. All good. All true. Well done. Knighthood for the CEO... 

... and yet I feel there's a counterpoint here. In the interview, the investment of the owner was repeatedly cited as proof of our purpose. I don't question that. Very few do and even those who do can't really argue with the numbers on the balance sheet. The investment is there for the club to compete at this level.

What is a bigger and more vital question is - has the money been well used over a period of time? 

If the money has been committed to do these things, then, in terms of things like rail seats or murals, it isn't a remarkable achievement that they've been done. It's simply what you'd expect to happen next. It's certainly better than them not being done - but whether it's evidence of truly high performance by the CEO is a different question. It certainly demonstrates investment - but that investment in itself is outwith the CEO's control.

Whilst the club is a sizable body, it's essentially no different to a school, a hospital, a supermarket, institutions who engage in redevelopment, put up new buildings, have their grounds redone and so on. Infrastructure projects happen, people manage them. Competency in that respect isn't proof of overall delivery...

...Lets stretch the metaphor and come back to the point of the club, the football. If, in a hospital or school or supermarket, people are dying or exam results are terrible or the fish counter is full of rotten fish, then saying 'it's disappointing, of course,, but we've got an excellent car park and we've refloored the canteen' doesn't really answer the core question. 

It's positive that there was an acknowledgement of some of the failings in the last few years, particularly around a lack of communication. It was positive to have some details of work undertaken but... yet, it wasn't especially convincing. 

In terms of our football strategy, we learned that we hired Steve Bruce essentially because Steve Bruce is a big name who was available and might not otherwise be. We learned that Ian Evatt really, really wanted the job. We didn't really learn much more. We learned that David Downes doesn't seem to think that there's much difference between what managers want and they just want 'good players' - we learned that we don't know why there's endless injuries, but 'we've got loads of data' and that 'it might be about preseason' - the word 'disappointing' was used endlessly and lots of mentions of 'reviews' were cited. 

Here's the thing though. I don't know if I'm missing something but preseason was 8 months ago and if, as was suggested, the players wear GPS bras and have GPS knives and GPS forks in the canteen and clean their teeth with GPS toothbrushes and void their systems on GPS toilets and are issued with fucking GPS condoms on a night out, then why the shitting fucking hell haven't we got some solid conclusions to draw upon now? The data is there. It's not sitting in a greenhouse growing for 8 months till the data flower blooms, It's not a fucking data foetus waiting to be born - we've literally got it. What's the plan? 

If all we need are 'good players' then why are we also then talking  in the same interview about 'playing players out of position' being a reason for our failings? Might that possibly be something to do with the fact that quite a few of our players this season now literally don't fit the current style of play because we don't field their preferred position? Emil Hansson, Scott Banks, Josh Bowler, Tom Bloxham, CJ Hamilton - that's 5 players who will never play in their ideal roles (or had to be let go) because we made a decision, again, to switch to a new idea in mid season. We've then got Michael 'long contract' Ihiekwe and his gammy toe anchoring a possession based back three, something that Michael 'long contract' Ihiekwe (and his gammy toe) is fundamentally not designed to do. We've not had a first choice keeper we owned since we sold Grimmy virtually in the fucking warm up of a game we were about to play, up till we signed BPF to the solidity of.... a short term contract.  Yesterday in the second half was the first time we've had two *actual* wing backs on the pitch for a long time - in a system in which the key defining characteristic of it is that it needs good wing backs. 

The question is about whether we've got an appropriate level of strategy guiding the bigger decisions and as above, guiding the investment. 

We've made ONE undeniably successful signing in the last two seasons (Fletch) and the rest have failed or had any impact undermined by injuries. The answer 'we don't know why, but we'll look at it' is a shallow answer. 

That's what leaves me feeling like I can't muster the enthusiasm to try and talk us up, because I can't work out what it is we're trying to do.

I can see what Evatt is trying to do and I'll defend his right to try it - because someone needs to try something, but in the end, if it isn't right, we'll just end up burning him on the great managerial pyre and then trying the next thing, by which time we'll have a squad full of wing backs, so we'll go to a back four system and repeat the rebuild and then abort it and so on till we stumble upon something eventually, sometime around 2031.

We've always got 'total confidence and alignment' and then we don't and we then have total confidence and alignment in a different thing and repeat. 

To cite Neil 'lets be brutally honest, he's looking more like a football guru by the week' Critchley, there has to be a 'process' but the process has to be purposeful, there has to be a picture guiding the process, an aim to work towards. To visualise a good football team, you can't just visualise 'good players' lifting the FA Cup and everybody cheering - you have to visualise the complex relationships between those players, the style they're playing within, the way they adapt to different challenges, the different combinations that can be used to overcome or nullify different situations, the blend of youth and experience, the right characters to pick the team up and the right characters to calm the team down.  

In football terms, that's definitely about being totally committed to the broad idea - you might be a strong running, movement based team. you might be a set of physical bullies, you might try skill, total football - you get the idea... I've made this argument multiple times. The guiding picture seems to live in the manager head, but I'm not sure it lives anywhere else

It's like we're providing the same paint for the artist, regardless of who it is and what their medium is and then blaming the artist when their delicate brushes get clogged with thick gloss or the painting is shit because they needed oil paints but got watercolours and then just saying 'well, we bought them paint, that shows ambition, don't see what the problem is, we'll review the paint in 6 months' 

Downes and Winter talked, correctly about injuries having impact and the subsequent load on players draining the fit and that forcing people out of position to cover and so on - but without any reflection on why that seems to have impacted us so badly, or why, we only seem (for the second season in a row) to be able to perform if the absolute first choice best XI is fit... 

... the season we went up 5 years ago, we were decimated by injuries and yet we won a lot of games with 12, 13, 14 fit players. Why can't we perform now like we could then? What's the difference? Why don't they have some analysis of that? 

*Deep Breath*

I walked through town on the way to the game. I walked past a burnt out building next to a massage parlour, I walked along cramped streets which felt like inner city somewhere, I walked past little pockets of brilliance, great things made from determination to make things work. I watched a drug deal out the corner of my eye, careful not to actually look up for my own safety cos I'm getting old and more wary... Blackpool is always an incredible and intense place to walk around in. It's not like anywhere else. It isn't somewhere where you just turn up and do a thing and have success. It's somewhere where success has to be eked out, fought for, it's a place where to succeed requires dedication, cunning and effort. 

We have stopped speaking of us being a club that knits together the disparate experiences of the very disparate Fylde coast. We've stopped feeling 'local' and as if there's a real understanding of what is on our doorstep. As much as we didn't talk about football strategy in any depth, we didn't really discuss anything about the culture of the club as a whole - we discussed projects to change fllodlights and 'matchday experience' but the club isn't just 3pm to 4.45 on a Saturday.

The football club is potentially the thing that really unites Blackpool. It's potentially the thing that brings in people, that connects people, that is Blackpool and for Blackpool and that Blackpool is truly proud of in a way that nothing else is.

It's the small things that matter. I'd suggest watching this to see how simple it is to make people feel cared about and how it's painful to see how they feel when they don't. Does seeing a lad who misses his dad feeling like this cut painfully into the soul of the leadership of the club.? It should. The club is the people like this. We're all this fan. The game is the crowd. We're all united by one thing. If we don't make the simplest efforts to show that matters, then what have we got? We're literally the reason everyone has jobs in football. Without fans it's just a game no one cares about where there's no industry, no strategies, no 'product' to be sold to anyone. 

The saddest thing is, it felt like we had that in the not too distant past, like we were working towards being *something* both on and off the pitch and that enthusiasm towards and belief in and understanding of where and what and why, was, more or less there and yet, whilst I can say 'yes, *some* positive things have happened and we've got a decent enough playing budget' it's really hard to honestly say there's anything 'special' about us in terms of the culture and the connection between the club and the community that follow it, nor can I really honestly say it feels as if we're doing anything inventive or innovative that's giving us an edge in terms of our football either.  In fact, there's stuff distinctly lacking in both areas. 

Maybe I'm just a shallow fan sulking cos we lost. Maybe I'm just lashing out at 'faceless suits' in a childish way because my team lost again and I've not emotionally got past the 13 yr old stage.  Maybe I don't understand the world of football properly and I'm missing the point somewhere - but when you're at a moment where it feels like you don't really care who the manager is or who he picks and going to the game is something you do with more than a bit of a resentment, when there's no atmosphere, when there's no fun, then it's not unreasonable to hope for a degree of enthusiasm for the task of fixing that and some sense of a vision and purpose about what that involves.

Mistakes happen in life. It's good to see at least some acknowledged. I make them all the time*...

(I wrote a  enthusiastic piece telling Sadler to spunk his money on signings for Bruce because *nothing could possibly go wrong there* to name but one....)

...but,  if there isn't the willingness to really, genuinely, deeply, properly self reflect and essentially, a willingness to accept, to fully grasp that this has, regardless of  the fact of investment, been a stagnant period of drift with, yes, some infrastructure improvement , but long term and increasing under performance on the pitch and dwindling enthusiasm in the fan base, then I'm really not sure we've got the right people running the club and managing the investments made. 

We can and must be far better than this. 

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.

Home-Start Blackpool Food Bank

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 - but 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.

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Painful but still better - Huddersfield Town vs the Mighty

To get from here to there you have to cross the tops. Great, dark yawning miles of nothing, obscured today by fog, a trail of disappearing brake lights heading into the murk, like a lane of red heading through a cloud. Such is the journey, through every kind of weather and ever changing lanes, the drama of flashing hazards and a crumpled bonnet laid out beside me as we crawl over the moors, I almost forget I'm here to see a football match.

Finally, down into the valley. I once lived here. Nothing speaks to your impermanence in the world than to return to place you spent a lot of time in and realise that..., aside from your memories, there is nothing here to welcome you, no mark you've left at all upon the place. Memory is so fragile an imprint on a place as to be a barely perceptible gossamer thread, a tangled mess of shimmering web, brushed aside easily... almost everything you remember has gone, changed, been washed away by the march of time. 

Anyway, all of that. Self regarding navel gazing shite. This is a football blog for football people. We'll have none of that here. This. Is. Now. Not last week or last month or 25 years ago. All the new players start... There was the summer optimism then the short lived excitement of the first set of loans. Neither lasted long before gloom set in. C'mon the Pool. Make it third time lucky in the new beginnings. May the season finally start here. 

---

After a mental build up on the PA, (Town have invested in what felt like the sound system for some huge London super club, but seemed also to have only bought a 'now that's what I call 1986' CD to go with it) Pool start with a crisp move, moving the ball quickly, showing movement and looking comfortable in possession. It comes to nothing, but it's something nonetheless 

Soon though, we're pinned back. Huddersfield are getting joy on their right. CJ gets run through like a freshly sharpened Turkish barber's razor blade slicing a blue Rizla paper stuck to the head of a bald man... Pressure, a shot on an angle from close in, BPF seems to clatter his head on the post and the ball cannons away. More pressure, Pool cut open again in similar way, ball across, a Terrier stretching at the far post, but like Gazza in Euro 96, he just can't reach it and make enough contact to turn it the right side of the post. 

The ref is whistle happy and hates us. I think he must have had a shit holiday in Blackpool as a kid or be best mates with Ed Duckworth or both. He's on self aggrandising a mission to blow every time we make a tackle. We don't care though, we start to come back into the game. I like Clarkson - it's a low bar in terms of our midfield this year, but he faces the right way and passes towards their goal and that's a big step up. Karoy Anderson has the legs we've not had, managing to make running around the middle of the pitch doing things footballers do (like tackles and passes) in a competent manner seem like something he's trained all week for and is readily able to do - again, a step up. 

A corner. We never score from corners... this one is deep and finds Husband in space, who brings it down. Is he going to lash it. No .. he's lifted it back where it's come from, Clarkson, the kick taker has snuck up the line and flicks it back into a melee, where Fletcher makes contact and the ball dribbles home. The ball crosses the line in slow motion but lights an away end tinderbox as it does. 

We play some scary stuff at the back but we get away with it. Husband is in Blackpool Baresi mode. lofting passes into space, sauntering about like he's read this book so many times before. We're pressuring, we're building a passing move. Obefemi, controls comes out the box, lays it out to Walters, who takes, then stands up a glorious cross, Karoy Anderson leaps, flicks, guides the ball into the yawning space and goal!!! 

It's absolutely dreamland stuff. A headed goal, 2 up away from home and the new signings all with an impact on the game, a loud away end and a silent home crowd. C'mon you Poooooool! 

We're playing with bite. Obafemi and Fletcher are starting to form a link. There's brilliant break from Obafemi where he threatens to run past their whole defence (after the ref inexplicably penalises Walters for throwing the ball from the wrong place and turns the throw over to Huddersfield instead), there's a moment that decieves, where Fletcher catches one and it's looks great but goes out for a throw. Clarkson is spreading it, Anderson is reaching second balls, Walters looks more like Jordan Gabriel than Jordan Gabriel himself did in the last few months of his Pool career, darting forward, daring to run inside. It falls down slightly as CJ puts in a truly shocking cross after a lovely move, but there's an energy to this team that just hasn't been there for most of the year and it's refreshing to see. 


--- 

Frankly, I'm in a bit of shock. More of this type of thing. 

--- 

We get more. For the first 20-ish minutes of the half, Pool are on top, or at very least, a strong equal. Ash Fletcher plays a pass I could watch again and again, threading it so exquisitely through for Obafemi to run on to that he might have been playing crown green bowls. Anderson bends one that stands up nicely over the top. It would have been the icing on the cake. Fletch draws a great save from their keeper, smacking a volley on the bounce, from an angle, sending it arrowing inside of the post but for the palm of the Town keeper.

I feel strangely comfortable...

...Until I don't.

We're starting to tire. The zip has gone from our legs. We're starting to be second to the ball, our play is more laboured, we aren't as aggressive. I hope blindly, that Albie is on the bench. He isn't. Town are making changes and their changes are improving them. We're between a rock and a hard place, not sure whether to stick or twist. Finally we thrown on Bloxham for Obafemi, who, still hasn't really had a shot in anger but hasn't let their defence settle all day. 

The change doesn't really work. Bloxham is neither fish nor fowl, not stretching them in behind as the man he replaced did, but not holding it up either, the ball seemingly repelled by him, bouncing off him harmlessly and back to a blue and white shirt. Walters and Anderson, so vital and full of verve have just started to look a bit more human and Clarkson, a silky purveyor of passes, an energetic finder of space now is getting bypassed and brushed aside. 

It's not as if Town are constantly working the keeper or whistling the ball past the post - there's just a palpable shift in momentum. We can't get hold of the ball, can't control the game at all and they're coming forward all the time. 

When they score, it's tarnished with another moment of CJ being bypassed and what looks to be a clear foul on Fletcher. Again, from their right, they get the ball over and a header is bulleted home. Now nerves kick in. 

It's not just nervy in the stands. We send on Finnegan for Clarkson in a bid for solidity. It doesn't really work as we look wild and absolutely can't get any kind of grip. We're hacking and backing off, every clearance seems scrambled and rushed. The ref isn't helping affairs as he continues to whistle and book just about anyone and everyone he can, at one point, he books Casey for kicking a ball that is just out of play, which, seeing as about 10 minutes before, the linesman didn't flag the ball when it had clearly gone out of play seems reasonable. He then books Ian Evatt because he can. He's a ref. He can wave his cards if he wants to. 

The goal, when it comes has a feeling of inevitability about it. Huddersfield drive down the left. Walters is exposed, 1 on 1 and then two on one as an overlap isn't properly tracked and the kid looks dizzy by the time they've slipped it expertly beyond him and the ball is being pulled back and there's one of those rushes at the far post as loads of their lads charge in, leaping, like horses at the first fence in the Grand National and the ball is not so much headed home as buffeted in by the forces of displacement. 

Fuck's sake 'Pool. 

There's time for more outrage at the ref. Ennis - who is probably the most effective of the subs, peels away and beats one, two, three and then is hacked down. No card. We actually manage to put some pressure on at the end, a Husband header across the box is beautifully inviting, but no one can make a claim on it and then the final insult from the man in black or highlighter yellow or purple or whatever stupid refs kit he was wearing this week decided, that having awarded us a free kick in a dangerous area, he won't let us take it because he hates tangerine and so, it's over and honours are even... 

--- 

It's an odd one. To be 2-0 up and in charge with well over an hour gone and not take home 3 points obviously stings. To have played well enough to be well in control of the game, away from home, against a form side and a shit ref is however, still pleasing. We showed some familiar weaknesses (literally) in the last 25 minutes as tackles were easily ridden and bypassed by the opposition (watching Finnegan try to cynically trip a player up and fail completely and get booked anyway sort of summed up our year defensively,) we got bullied in the middle and we get penned back - but, up to that point, we pressed well, showed aggression and played a good mix of direct balls and some quality build up play. 

The new lads improved us massively. Clarkson looked exactly as you'd want, silky, good feet and vision. Anderson was a lovely foil to that, an athlete in midfield who showed desire - my favourite moment aside from the goals was probably the snarling tackle in the box he made to deny a Town chance after he'd given the ball away in midfield - no standing with his hands on his hips and watching play get away from him - he was absolutely determined to get back in and atone for the error. Walters was largely impressive, bringing the adventure from deep and looking a gifted player - if, like Gabriel, perhaps a little prone to getting caught out for that adventure - but them's the breaks. 

All in all, there was more to us that has been there for a while - we might be a relegation threatened side, but we didn't, in the main, play like it. It's clear that what we've brought in is designed to make us a more mobile side and we looked far more coherent going forward. I'm not sure we got caught out trying to sit on it, more that we wilted as the game went deep. There's negatives, yes and we all know what they are, god knows we've seen them enough this year - but there were probably as many, if not more positives and after a shocking post Christmas run, that's not so bad.

Having Morgan, Honeyman, Randall, Horsfall and others to come back leaves us surely strong enough - certainly we win that with a little bit more quality to exchange in the second half from the position we were in. Most importantly, we showed something today and despite the end, for the majority of it, didn't sit back and took a fight to them and that is always the starting point for getting behind it. 

Onward

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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 - but 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.

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One step forward, two steps back - the Mighty vs Stockport County

I'm tired. This game has come too quickly. I want to bask in the (relative) glory of Saturday a little longer, feel a tiny bit of optimism in my veins. I'm not ready for another game, let alone another game against a side who, of late seem to have our number.

I blame Gary Megson.

Cunt. 

At least it's not pissing down. That's a very English observation but I am English and this is England so it's valid. I fancy us if we can turn it into a football match but less so if it's a fight in a storm so the easing of the weather across the day is a sign that the forces of the universe are tangerine at heart***. 

Possibly. When I think about our injuries and the hopeless luck of Andy Lyons, it seems less like whatever deity is in charge is smiling on us. Maybe it's a polytheistic world. The Greek gods were always falling out with each other over stuff so perhaps Achilles** is a PNE fan and whoever* is god of the weather a seasider. 

*I've Googled it and it seems there's multiple gods who do different weather stuff including Zeus... 

**Classical scholars (I'm sure there's many, many of them reading) may wish to note I know that Achilles isn't the god of unfortunate footballing injuries but it's too tempting a pun. Ha ha. #jokes #banter #ffsthisisshit - Apparently, there is no specific injury tsar but Oizys deals with misery and distress and the Algea, (me neither, never heard of either of them) misery and pain. The man we seem need is Asclepus, god of healing and medicine. (who knew?) Tbh, I'd settle for Phil Horner.

***This opening I wrote before the game. God, the gods, physics or whatever it is that controls stuff is clearly out to make our collective lives a misery. 

---

Anyway, football. I'm not sure I'd have picked this team. I quite liked having two actual strikers and whilst I still love Josh, (I'll always love Josh) he's been more the ghost of Josh than the electric one of late and I really like Randall so there we go. 

We start almost straight away with a sharp move from County and a low drive wide. They look purposeful. Tightly coiled, energetic. For a little while we live with them and there's a game. CJ chases one down, pulls it back and Bloxham screws wide. Bowler, a sharp turn, a moment that speaks of what I wish he'd do every time he gets it, but County are back in his face the second he's got a bit of space and the through ball is wild as a result. 

Someone is down. It's fucking Honeyman. We don't need this. Jaunty openings about injuries and divine will aside, it's just one thing and then another thing. Lee Evans has come on. Now, you can find plenty of opinion on Lee Evans elsewhere - all I'll say is, he doesn't bring the same kind of energy to a game that Honeyman does and leave it at that...

Still, there's hope isn't there? A ball over top.. Bowler has wriggled away,... He's on the charge, for a split second we're in the Championship again and Josh is bearing down on goal, the ground is full and every nerve is jangling... We're not though. The ground is half empty, we're silent and sullen and Bowler hasn't got the burst of pace or the belief and he hesitates, indecision cursing through his nerve ending and he plays it Bloxham, who isn't really free and the shot is part blocked and loops up and away, harmless. 

The excitement pretty much ends there. 

County hit the bar. A swerving shot after a flat clearance. Their fans are the sound of a team and a club on a steady upward climb, together, noisy, confident. The 'ooooh' they make as the ball smacks the woodwork is louder than any sound we make all night. 

A period of sloppy passes. Evans looks cool, a touch and turn, like a lower league Zidane, but the effect is somewhat undermined by the fact the ball barely leaves his foot and leaves Zac Ashworth treading water trying to reach it. We can't put anything together. CJ as usual is getting moaned at but we're all shit. 

Stockport wander up the pitch. No one does anything till Bowler runs at the man with the ball. A simple pass cuts him out the game. A ball in. A runner, a header, no chance the keeper gets anywhere near it. Not even an attempted challenge after Bowler's doomed effort on halfway. Too easy. It looked like the first team playing the youth team. 

...then, shortly afterwards, nothing much happening, pass, pass, diagonal run, low shot. Goal. Far, far, far too fucking easy. There's nothing else to say. They literally just made a few passes, they didn't even appear to be especially cute passes and then scored.

AAAAAAARGH. 

We're 2-0 down and both goals seemed to owe a lot to a great big space in the middle of the pitch. Usually teams have some people there who try and stop the other team scoring, but we seem to have not bothered with that.

Well done everyone. 

What do we muster... ? What's the sum total of our spirited response? How do we get the fans back on side? I can think of a cross that looked vaguely like something round about the right sort of thing, CJ runs into someone and everyone groans, but fucking hell, if you think the problem with this club is literally 'CJ' then you aren't paying attention to the 4 years of solid decline are you? At least he didn't pass it back to the keeper which seemed to do every other time we got the ball. Bloxham runs after a long ball... we win a throw in. Start the party.

I can't cite anything resembling a shot or a decent move. The yawning void in midfield remains. County make chances, we look miles off. 

--- 

I don't know how to fix this. I'm going to have to say 'bring back Gary Madine' because actually, would it really be any less effective if we just battered it at big Gaz as he stood still and threw defenders about? Probably not. 

---

Evatt has shifted things about - we seem to be playing 433 - Randall is on for CJ on the left of the attack. We chase a few back to the keeper. I think 'well, ok, he's done something' and hope that it works. 

There's a sickening crunch between BPF and their attacker as they both go to meet a ball forward. All we need now is another injury. Mercifully the keeper is ok. The Stockport man isn't. I think about how vicious crowds as I notice that my first thought is not 'I hope he's not hurt' but 'fuck, the sub keeper has been awful'

We don't need to wait long for another injury though. Randall's hamstring has gone. He's played less than 90 minutes for us overall and he's broken. For fucks sake. I'm actually lost for words. Ennis comes on and on we go. Do we have to? We could just call it 2-0 and walk off surely? 

A County player limps off. It doesn't seem to impact them. They are a machine and their bench is made of spare parts, oil and grease. We're a fucking bundle of rags and sticks and our bench is a tatty split carrier bag and some pocket lint. The metaphor doesn't make any sense but it's how I feel. Call it abstract poetry or something. 

Finally something resembles an attack. Ennis chasing onto a ball looks to be pulled back. We get a corner. Put the bunting out and all gather round and sing songs of joy and hope. Needless to say nothing happens from the corner because nothing ever happens from our corners. 

A minutes applause. I don't mean at all to be glib, but it's probably the highlight of the game. It's just a moment of togetherness in a tepid and tetchy crowd on a cold night. It's just a moment where you have to reflect on mortality and how when you're gone, the football goes on and how many people are all here, connected by the one thing. Football is such, it's something we share in life. Life is fleeting. RIP. 

During this, BPF makes a very good low save to his left, again the chance coming from allowing County space to get into the centre of the pitch, control things and shoot under no great pressure. No one seems to be bothered. I don't know why they aren't fucking raging at each other to get a fucking grip. 

The same thing happens again shortly after. BPF is just about the only candidate for 'wasn't shite' as he makes another save. 

You'll never guess what happened next. A player Blackpool FC recently signed did something. For 10 points, can you guess?

Was it a bit of skill? Did he earn the adulation of the supporters with a goal, a last ditch tackle, a brilliant dribble or a defence splitting pass? 

Which one was it? 

It's a trick fucking question!!! 

He got injured. Because that's what we do! 

Grant limps off, Brown goes to full back. Obafemi comes on. It doesn't seem to make any visible difference to anything. 

Husband miskicks, They're all over it, pull it back, shot from point blank range - BPF pulls off a wonder save. No one can really be arsed clapping him. It's really one of those nights. It been one of those seasons, it's been season up on season of going backwards... 

Then a moment of brief hope - Ennis has a one two with Fletch and puts the latter through. He looks certain to score and with 10 minutes to go, we might just shake them and anything could happen. Fletcher, calm as you like... rolls the ball wide. 

County fans are singing 'we're taking the piss' as they knock it about and generally look like scoring a third. I'm wondering why I'm still here. The ground is emptier by the minute. 

Finally, we have a shot on goal. In fact, we score. It's quite a good goal too, but it doesn't feel like a goal, more like something that happened before I went home that I sort of vaguely register. BPF launches it, Husband jumps and nods it across the box, Bowler is there, the ball bobbles up and he smashes it home. It would be a great moment if it mattered - but it doesn't. 

The whistle goes. I pretty much run out the ground. 

--- 

It was absolutely shit. We looked half arsed and without Honeyman had no bite at all in midfield, to the point where it felt we'd got two players in Evens and Brown who both wanted to sit deep and dictate which left, of all people, Josh Bowler running about trying to get the ball. That's the worst idea ever. 

County, I've made clear were good. 1-2 flattered us to be honest. There was no point after the first 10 minutes where I felt we had anything like a control of the game. There was no point where I felt like we threatened. Had Fletcher scored then who knows but it would have been a royal smash and grab job to get anything out of that and to be so outplayed at home feels deeply depressing as does the fact we've got more injuries and therefore we'll be playing either a new shape we've barely, if ever played or more players out of position. 

Evatt didn't get it right tonight - but we've been getting it wrong overall little by little for a long time and here we are, mired near the bottom of the league, in a position way below par for the budget we have. Questions don't start with Evatt - they start elsewhere and he needs time and patience. He wasn't my pick - but he's a serious man, a football man and he's got to have the time to do a job because others at the club have had a lot, lot longer and we've been served up an endless parade of changing ideas as we flit from one thing to another with no guiding idea and a load of half fit players. 

I'm beyond saying 'if we picked/dropped this player' or 'if we played/didn't play this formation' - we need to get a fucking grip as a club and decide what we are and be that and recruit players and managers accordingly and pull our fingers out of our arses and stop drifting along being shitter every season that passes because Evatt's inherited a directionless mess and it shows. Standards come from culture and context and it feels like we're nothing in that respect. It feels like we've no soul, no real energy. The crowd is dead, there's no real sense of 'Blackpool' meaning anything beyond 'some footballers who signed a deal and happen to play together and a manager who happened to be available' - the sum of the part is not adding up to be greater than the whole. 

FFS SAKE POOL.. 

We go again. 

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.

Home-Start Blackpool Food Bank

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 - but 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.

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Much Needed - the Mighty vs Northampton Town

The hangover of last night is becoming a little buzz fuelled by the hair of the dog. I'm early. I'm a bit spaced out. Joel Randall's legs look like the spindles from a particularly ornate Victorian staircase. Obafemi looks languid in the warm up game but then pulls a little bit of next level skill out of his locker and I get a jolt of excitement. I love players who look good in warm ups. Mind you, I was convinced that Emil Hansson was cheat code genius because he once hit a nice swerving shot  in a tracksuit top and that Joe Nuttall was certain to be a 25 goal a season striker as his physique on first sight seemed to scream 'goals! lots of them!' so it's not a fool proof talent spotting methodology.

This pitch, this place. A blaze of colour, grass looking rich and the tangerine resplendent. I could gaze on it forever. I've got a good feeling about today. I'm not stupid, I know it could all evaporate in the first 20 minutes but right now I'm in the place of foolish optimism and tangerine dreams. There's pace and skill on the pitch and players on the bench. There's CJ flippin' Hamilton... Ole! It seems impossible from this moment that we won't beat this weird purple opposition by 10 or 15 goals...  I really like that Evo has chucked all the new lads in. No pissing about, no 'getting them up to speed' - we need them, they need us, go and play football. 

---

The whistle goes, we're off. Almost instantly Ihiekwe is making a foul that speaks of shaky performances past and points to an afternoon the opposite of the one I've been foolishly dreaming of. A simple ball, the centre back all out of position and wrong side, lacking the pace to get back to where he needs to be makes a clumsy and obvious intervention. They load the box... here we fucking go. Same old shit, same old failings, same old disappointment and frustrations.

What was I thinking? 

It comes to absolutely nothing though. I'm watching Randall intently. He's exactly my type. I rarely covet opposition players, I rarely even notice their names, they have to be remarkably good or remarkably bad to register - but Randall stuck in my mind for a couple of highly intelligent, unusually classy performances for Peterborough. I love that Evatt covets him too, gushing in interviews about what he offers. Being a pathetic individual lack any real meaning or purpose in my life, I'd gone back and listened to the pre makeover Evatt talk about him when still trapped in the purgatory of being Bolton boss and his love for the flimsy but elegant midfielder was evident - I want skinny players with a glorious touch, I want players who haven't bulked up because they trust that a touch, a jink, a moment of vision is enough to put lumbering beasts on their arses, we're fucking Blackpool FC, not some run of the mill identikit nothing club in some run of the mill identikit nothing town - we sell dreams, escape, joy, not fucking cotton or coal or, I don't know... shoes... 

I'm caught in this reverie as the ball is launched, swerving at the last to drop for CJ. He's not going to trap this. It's going to bounce off him because that's what happens when it's CJ, he's all athlete and no technique.. but that isn't what happens because CJ (international Footballer) Hamilton not only takes the ball out the sky perfectly, he also drifts inside making a great angle for the kind of pass I've been dreaming of Joel Randall making, a perfectly weighted, beautifully disguised threaded through the eye of a needle (not just any needle either, one of those little ones where it seems impossible and the cotton always splits) ball to Randall himself. Am I still daydreaming and my mind has mixed up the image I have of Randall and superimposed it on CJ? Ole! 

Randall backheels first time, Fletcher tries to make space but his shot cannons away, Honeyman on the rebound, a shot, another block, Honeyman again, drags it wide then, picture perfect pose, like the action shot cover of some programme from days of yore, crashes a shout from 14 yards, on the angle, the keeper tumbles and is firmly behind it, but it won't stick and it bounces out again, Ashworth is waiting, a player who of late has shown a great deal of utility and who deserves a bit of glory, it drops just right, he doesn't think twice, laces through it and its struck a knee of a dizzied covering defender and ricoched into the roof of the net...YESSSSS! That's exactly the start we needed. C'mon Pool! We want 10! 

For a few minutes it does look like we might put them to the sword. Randall is finding space to run into and we're knocking it about with confidence. Obafemi is a little bit peripheral but there's busts of ridiculous pace and hustling charges, his squat, muscular body, a mix of sprinter and boxer resembling what might happen if you combined the assets of CJ and Kylian. The man of the moment though, a player who today, there literally ain't nobody better than on the pitch (and possibly the league) is Super Ashley Fletcher. 

A run down the line, some lovely control taking it in, a spin to keep the ball away, a lull as he teases, and then ball one side, Fletcher the other, swaying and vaulting an attempted tackle, surging and meeting the ball, it's beautiful. He's dropping deep, he's playing as a 10, he's playing where an 8 would sit at points and he's good enough to do this. He gets, he spreads it wide, he charges forward to be a striker once again, pulling their defence out of shape as he goes. In all the time I've watched this club, I struggle to think of a player who has had a turnaround like this lad has had. Players have had poor debuts or taken a few games to find the pace and gone on to good or great things(Adam, Keogh spring to mind) but Fletcher struggled for months, looked like a hopeless case, was literally laughed of the pitch at one point) and now, he looks better every week, an intelligent and increasingly complete footballer and one who makes it look easy, who strolls about, a jazz player finding pockets of space, playing clever rhythms and using the silence in a league of up and down 4/4 pub rockers

The enthusiasm for football and general joie de vivre doesn't last though. We do have some pressure, CJ again does well, getting on the end of a long ball and turning it first time, towards goal, a chipped effot, looping in, but for a defender on the line. In turn, we (Ashworth) clear one from under the bar as BPF, sometimes so athletic, strong and lithe, has one of those moments where he looks like a schoolkid shoved in goals, wandering aimlessly out under a cross, waving hopelessly at it as it goes over him and then, thanking his lucky stars that their header on a keeper-less goal frame finds a defender and not the net. 

As the half progresses, we fade and it frustrates me. Northampton are like a comedy sketch of a side in the sense that they're exactly what you'd imagine a side managed by a pound shop fat Sam would be like. Nolan has even gone all craggy and jowly like the man himself They're obsessed with long throws and long diagonals to the heart of the box. At one point, one of their players has a chance to cross whilst two of our defenders are on the ground and he lets the ball run, slowly, out of play, to take the throw instead. 

The quality of the game declines, the warm flames of the first 10 minutes dwindling, till all there is is some faintly glowing embers, the biting wind now swirling and it all very grey, league 1 stuff. We can't get the ball down, we're struggling to put passes together, we're watching them get closer to our goal. If we have artistry in our ranks, they're a heavy industrial thing, a set of trundling tanks moving inexorably towards our borders... 

The atmosphere is getting tetchier. We're actually defending pretty well, even if we're now getting worryingly penned in. Grant, I like. He's kind of the opposite of Randall. The latter glides with the elegance of an 18th century gentleman wielding a beautifully carved wooden handled duelling pistol with skill - Whereas Grant lurches around the pitch and carries an altogether more agricultural shotgun. He knows how to defend though, he seems comfortable in where he is on the pitch and we're stronger for it. Big Mike and his gammy toe are doing alright, he's frequently on the end of their crosses, neutralising their direct play. 

Half time approaches, they have a version of what led to our goal, a ball in, it's bounced around, it comes out, their lad lashes it and it hits something (I though BPF saved it, but it's probably a post) and then goes for a goal kick. That was too close. 

It's half time. 

--- 

A strange half in that I saw things I liked and then it just got steadily worse. I can't really put my finger on what they stopped us doing after about 15 minutes, but it feels like something has stopped working at some point and I hope Evatt can work out what I can't. 

--- 

After the game, Evo says we started the second half 'fast' but to me, it seemed we initially had more of the same. The ref is a twat. He's one of those identikit referees who looks like he parades himself in front of the mirror practising his bookings and his general demeanour. I can imagine him saying "you are in charge" to himself and closing his eyes, visualising well executed whistle and particularly authoritatively sprayed line of shaving foam. His shorts are too high in the way only referees can wear their shorts. He seems to give them everything and he gives them yet another foul now- they make a chance, I barely need to say, it's a diagonal lofted ball into the box, because it always is - it bounces around and we scramble and finally Peacock-Farrell falls on an effort that is mercifully weak. 

They're building again, I actually quite like their 11, he's their one player who seems to have a little bit of a brain and decent feet - he tricks his way past one, knocks it inside, they've got a chance to lift it into the box from here - their man dawdles, Randall shadows, and then, Fletcher pounces, dropping deep as he does, he's in the right place to nick it, a toe into space and he's away, charging and then hitting a divine pass, it's a really hard one too, like turning a car into a skid, all the momentum seems to be going the other way as he kind of hits down on the ball, spitting it out, to the right, a skidding, spinning ball into the run of Obafemi

The lad in full flight is exciting, he reminds me of what Lavery brought before his hamstrings hamstrung his impact, bustling, intimidating pace and no little power - there's real ability there too as he hits a pass to match Fletcher's in return, a  searching ball, arcing, coming back like a golfers putt breaking, perfectly guided towards its man, who has exploded forward seeking this exact ball and, who takes it in his stride, passes his man and then, in the most stonewall example of a penalty you'll ever see, has his legs clipped and can do nothing else but fall to his knees. 

Lets stop for a moment. 

This ref is crap, they almost all are. I see absolutely no attempt to play the ball and one of the countries most deadly strikers on current form through on goal, with the ball under control and only the keeper to beat having his legs clipped by a defender who had no other option. It appears to be denial of a clear and obvious goal scoring chance. It is, of course, a yellow card, because it's us. Whilst the decision in and of itself is questionable, it's true that all every decision like this does is highlight, the ridiculous charade of the James Husband red card (went for the ball, won the ball, not actually a foul, not in any sense denial of a goal scoring opportunity) and the even more ridiculous self protecting, self serving and frankly corrupt charade of an appeals process which not only upheld the original decision, but slapped another ban on top of it, because Husband used 'industrial language' in a 'threatening way' despite his body language speaking of justified incredulity and disbelief. 

I have time to think about this because the class milk monitor is going round telling players who are  mostly stood outside of the box to stand outside of the box. He preemptively tells off 8 players who aren't in the box, before he gets to one who isn't. Nice one mate, you just drink in the moment, it's definitely you we've all come to see. Why not blow that whistle a few times, we all think you are super powerful, that shrill piecing sound is the very definition of 'man with control' and I for one bow to you and your authority. 

For fucks sake...

Finally.

We're ready.

The tension has built. No matter how good Fletch is now, there's an underlying image of him falling over and ballooning the ball high above the Kop that keeps coming to mind... A blast from the whistle, Fletch jogs in, so calm, as if he's been somewhere else entirely, humming a jaunty tune in his mental zen den for the minute of unnecessary building anxiety, and he sends the keeper the wrong way and we're breathing a big sigh and then yelling our relief... YESSSSSS! 

2-0 is so much more comfortable. That was a goal we needed. There was a danger of the game becoming really fractious, a crowd getting more and more restless, but now, we can relax a little. 

It takes a while. I'm certain that we'll be able to pick them off. They need more now than just the ball to drop once, they need to make some chances and that will surely open spaces for us to exploit. It doesn't happen straight away. They fizz one over the top (of course, a looped ball into the heart of the box) and don't crumble as I'd hoped. 

It takes the introduction of a few subs (most notably, a hungry looking Tom Bloxham) to give us that edge. We finally put together a run of chances, breaking convincingly, CJ pushing and running, playing a lovely ball across the box, Grant picking up the pieces after everyone dances round it and hitting the inside of the post, seemingly bending the laws of physics to make the ball bounce out as it does. CJ sets up Bloxham, Bloxham sets up CJ. Tom has his effort squeezed wide, CJ, who I think has done pretty well today, of course, falls over as it looks nailed on that he's going to score a glorious cake icing 90th minute delight. Ole! 

They chuck on Tom Eaves who I still fear because of how good he was about 6 years ago for Gillingham but whilst he gets on the end of a few things and Finnigan has a moment of clumsiness in midfield that presents them a chance, nothing makes BPF do anything beyond routine. 

---

When the whistle goes, the feeling is still curiously one of relief, rather than outright celebration. It was, in a many ways, a fustrating game in that, the opposition seemed so limited and so far out of anything resembling form, that any self respecting believer in the tangerine cause, the way of beauty, skill and wizardry, might be forgiven for being irritated that we didn't cut them up more conclusively. 

The reality is though, it was a hard fought and well earned win. They came to stop us playing and we played enough for a comfortable win, if nowhere near enough to be 'entertaining.' There were flashes of football and we had, even though it didn't always prevail, a lot more variety and technique on display (or being allowed to be utilised) than they did - and eventually, overall, that told. They played a very restricted way and we much less so. 

I thought our back three did pretty well. I've already mentioned two of them, but Casey deserves a shout, immaculate on the left hand side, not his natural role and one he looked  uncharacteristically uncomfortable in last time he played it. Having Ashworth as a wing back worked, not only did he get forward and score, but he's able to play an actual left back role very well, which meant at times we played as a 4 and CJ was clearly instructed to get high and at times stay high, even sometimes dropping in next to Obafemi. CJ isn't perfect (we all know this), he never will be (he knows this, I know this, you know this), but I think that's a much better way to use him and his strengths than asking him just to be a conventional wing back and shadow his man up and down - he's a player who takes abuse sometimes for managers asking him to plug gaps he's not built to. Asking him to get high puts the emphasis on a) him attacking space and b) their man to defend him and I'd always rather CJ running at their goal than nervously running back towards ours. 

Brown was more effective today, less wasteful with the ball and a bit more of the busy and energetic disrupter that is his best self. Randall was promising and was a couple of final balls away from really impacting and Honeyman looked to enjoy playing with him and I felt had more impact as reward for his effort than in some games. All the new players seemed to fit their roles and give us a bit more of a convincing look.

It wasn't a promotion winning performance, it wasn't a 'wow, this lot will win the Champions League if we can keep them together' performance. It wasn't even a particularly good game at all - but for fucks sake, It's League One, it's January and we're in a scrap at the bottom of the table because we so spectacularly fucked up so much stuff earlier in the year. It was a routine, but very important win when we're in crap form against another side in horrible form and seemingly reaching their own nadir under a manager who doesn't seem to inspire any kind of imagination at all in their play.

What do we expect such a game to be like?

To have lost that game would have been a proper disaster - but we didn't and whilst hurried loan signings for key positions aren't really where we expected or wanted to be, there's an optimism over and above today's performance as you can see enough in what we've brought in to suggest that a) Evatt knows what he wants and is clear about getting it and b) there's more to come as the attacking players in particular bed in and find the collective rhythm of the team.

There was effort and commitment and when you've got that, the skill will show in time. 

Onward 

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