Deep breathing required: AFC Wimbledon vs The Mighty.

What a shite ref

One of the saddest things about the Covid era (aside from the death, decimation of the employment market, mental health crisis and so on) is that Wimbledon's first game at their new ground is set to be just another iFollow match.

If any club deserves to experience the sort of soul renewing, out of body wonder that we had with our homecoming game, then it's them. There's few clubs who I'd defer to in terms of 'having a shit time of it' but maybe the Don's are one. Imagine seeing your club hollowed out, it's body lurching onwards but to all intents and purposes, dead, a zombie club, a host for parasites to control and then seeing it lurch off, over the horizon to somewhere far away, its limbs and body twitching but the light behind its eyes extinguished. What a fucking awful thing to happen. 

What a celebration it should therefore be, what a triumph over adversity, to have revived the soul of the club, rebuilt a new body for it and then finally, to make it, after 29 long, long years away, back home. How sad it is, that such a return will be marked only by the echoing sound of the ball hitting the advertising hoardings and the barking of the players. It's been oft observed, that football without fans is nothing. That's very true of every game, but it seems particularly true of AFC Wimbledon's homecoming. 

Tonight's game is therefore historic. Perhaps the final game of a nomadic existence that has taken in a number of grounds and most latterly, Loftus Road. I've always like the Lego stadium feel of QPR's home. It looks a bit like the kind of ground you'd end up with if you built a subbuteo stadium in the 1980s. It's kind of grand with it's miniture two tiered stands. It's no doubt lacking in all the things expected of a 21st century football ground but it's one of the few grounds left you can recognise from days of yore and for that, I like it. Without fans, I suppose, it's just another football pitch. 

As far as the game goes, I'm learning slowly to have no expectations of this side. I implored the team (pointlessly of course, I'm not labouring under the illusion that Mike Garrity comes running into Critch's office, shouting 'Gaffer, Gaffer, he's blogged again!) to attack, attack, attack, attack, attack and they responded by turning a laboured and unambitious but ultimately successful performance against the evil parasitic worms MK Dons. 

It's easy to bemoan the quality of that game as it was truly (warning: some high quality analysis after the brackets close) a shit game of football but possibly, we were that devoid of confidence, it's naive to have expected them to go out and express themselves with joy and flair. It's a more prosaic satisfaction to see they could battle, defend well and stick with it and come out of a turgid game with the points, but it's a satisfaction none the less. 

I'm hoping to see Robson and Madine back in the side and possibly Dan Kemp as well but everytime I try to second guess Critch's line up he does something different. We'll see. It's fashionable to see each game as some sort of statement of narrative, to imbue it with an importance that probably outweighs the actual significance but it does seem quite important that Pool build on that display, either by showing the same tenacious ability to battle or an improved attacking display (or of course, ideally both) 

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He's picked the three I hoped he would but he's dropped Woodburn in favour of Sarkic. Arguable the last time Pool packed a convincing attacking threat was the first half against Accy when Sarkic was on the pitch. It's not been immediately obvious to me what Sarkic does but it's to be hoped he can provide the same sort of effect tonight. 

'I am the Resurrection' provides probably the most uplifting pre match music so far. (I see what they did there.) and I realise I'd forgotten that it goes into that funky bit after the main tune has played out. It's definitely got more vibe than 'This is the One' played quite quietly for reasons I cannot fathom. Why the fuck we don't play 'Tatty Seaside Town' before matches I don't know.  

We start by fashioning a decent effort! Sullay curls a free kick, Madine comes out of the crowd and heads but the keeper makes a decent stop. He should have scored but in the blunt instrument competition that has been our strike force this year, that's as sharp as anyone has looked since Madine himself put the ball in then by falling over and tackling it home against Ipswich. 

Sullay then swings in a corner, Madine is at the back stick and sends it back into the mix where we force it home but it's ruled out. 

It's looking promising. Then Wimbledon score. Reilly scores a decent goal. I'm that fed up that I can't bring myself to work out who to blame. 

Great work from Dan Kemp wins a free kick in the corner, Robson lifts it to the far post, Ekpiteta heads, but he's always leaning back to get under it and can only loop it the centre of goal where the keeper has no problems at all. 

Sarkic is moving the ball quickly in midfield, Pool are passing better than Saturday but no one else is really showing the same urgency. Mitchell has a good run and curls a cross that kisses the bar before landing on the wrong side of the netting. 

Kemp launches a direct ball diagonally to the back off the box, Madine nods down and Robson catches it first time but whilst he gets it on target, it's a scuffed effort and easy for the keeper. 

Big long ball up and under and Piggot does brilliantly to sell Marvin a dummy. Marvin brings him down and gets a card, whilst Wimbledon gain a free kick. Piggot himself takes it and fires it inches wide from about 25 yards out. They're well versed up front, they feed on the moments of uncertainty their physicality and directness causes and when those moments come, they look dangerous. 

The ball goes out of play and I wonder why the substitutes are in a little tent, sat together like they're on sale at a fete. Maybe this is a new idea to flog off the unwanted squad members. 

The ball breaks in midfield, Robson contols it, pokes it ahead of him, into traffic, he slides in to a 50/50 and looks if anything to have been fouled himself. The Wimbledon man comes out the challenge writhing as if Robson has gone in studs up, but for the life of me, it looks like a robust challenge and nothing more. The referee has made his mind up straight away. If it was high, it doesn't look it on the replay...

Grant Ward comes on for Sarkic who's Pool career is dogged by bad luck and false starts. 

We win a free kick on the corner of the box from an unlikely bit of trickery from big Marvin. Sullay takes, another lovely delivery but nothing comes of it. Marvin himself, the nearest to getting a contact. 

There's a mess between Turton and Ekpiteta, Wimbledon ping pong it back and forth between them as Blackpool pair try to make amends, as if stuck in a nightmare game of piggy in the middle. Fortunately for Pool, the shot, when it comes is straight at Maxwell who catches it, drops it (as if just to add to the general feel of comic capers) and then clutches it to his chest. 

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A moment in first half that sums up Pool at this point in time. We get a free kick. Ward stands over it and Turton advances, creeping into space on the right. Ward decides to give it to the unmarked right back, in acres of space. Having received it, Turton runs forward, gets to the full back, checks back, returns it to Ward who himself, checks back and returns it to Turton who finally crosses it from somewhere near the halfway line. Unsurprisingly Wimbledon clear it. We tried to do something but without the conviction we could do it. We tried something, but we did it too slowly. If ever a moment summed up the season to date, that was it. 

This has been a better game of football than Saturday but we're a goal down and a player down and we've taken off the player who was moving the ball quickest and again, we look too ponderous going forward. 

Sullay has delivered the best quality free kicks we've seen for ages and one decent ball from open play. It's that latter stat that's damning though. We've simply not got the ball to him. Madine is battling manfully up front but again, the forward line doesn't look in tune with each other at all. 

I don't know what I'd do if I was Critchley to be honest. Probably kick a bin and swear. 

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Pool seem to have got players closer to Madine at the opening of the second half. Ward makes a couple of driving runs, the second of which ends with the unlikely Dan Kemp winning a knockdown to Sullay who almost slides in the turning Kemp. Wimbledon come away and loft a ball out to the left back position. Demi isn't there, where he actually is, I don't know, but they've got the best part of 29 years to get a cross in. When it comes it prompts one of those horror pinball moments -the ball going all over the place before thankfully striking the shin of a Wimbledon forward and going wll wide

A similar route nearly leads to a goal again 4 or 5 minutes later, an equally horrible pinball experience where the ball squeezes under Maxwell but again, Pool breathe again as they can't quite force it home.  

Williams and Ward try spraying it within 60 seconds of each other. One is 15 years behind the intended target, the other 15 yards in front. Between them, I suppose you've got the perfect pass. 

Woodburn on for Kaikai who hasn't really had any impact beyond the moments I've picked out. 

Madine and kemp chase down Wimbledon in possession and force a throw from a wild clearance. Here's moment two that sums us up. We've got a throw, about 30 yards from there goal line. 10 seconds later, we've worked the ball all the way back to our own defence. Why did we bother with the pressing to win a throw in I wonder? 

Woodburn has a pop from 30 yards. It's a shot. That's nice intent and he does manage to hit the stand, but now we just need to aim at the goal in front of it. 

Grant Ward takes a corner, Madine rises and wins it, it's arrowing home but a Wimbledon man leaps like a salmon and flicks it away. Pool going long is working better than Pool playing intricate passes about in their own half. 

Wimbledon break quickly, as if to remind us we've only got 10 men, again, hitting the corner of the pitch on their right. Three quick, purposeful passes from the corner and Piggot is driving low but being denied by a great save from Maxwell, sprawling to his right, falling as quick as if a carpet has been whipped from under his feet. 

Wimbledon dally on the ball and Ward steals it, his ball isn't perfect but it looks to have found Woodburn but all he can do is run into the big Dons centre half and fall over. 

Pool manage to break down a Wimbledon attack, Mitchell getting a foot in at a crucial moment and then unfolds one of those moves where every pass only just about comes off. It seems as if we'll lose it any second but as unlikely as it feels, we work it forward through 4 players before CJ picks it up and he's off, charging, electric, and direct. He shoots, it's wide but it's been the best moment so far. It looks like he could have gone further into the box but it's a reminder of just how dangerous he can be and a clear sign of hope. 

Out of the blue the fourth official draws the referee's attention and Ballard is sent off. For what, I have no idea. Ballard disappears down the tunnel, but not before taking out his anger on a water bottle and and expensive looking digital advertising hoarding. Apparently it was for an elbow in a challenge on the halfway line. I don't know. I've got to the point where I'm hoping Mike Garrity comes on and lamps the ref just to add to the absurdity of it all, but he just gallumphes about in the technical area looking put out instead. 

Thus begins a spell of pressure where it's essentially Wimbledon vs big Marvin, something that highlights one of the few positives of the last few games, just how good Marvin can be. He's sliding from behind and timing it perfectly, he's leaping at the far post and taking it off the head of a forward, he's intercepting, he's simply fucking brilliant for about 8 minutes. The period ends with a lovely passing move, defying the numbers to put together 10 or 12 passes around their box. It's classic Critchball as we pass, move, pass, move all across the box and back and then back again for good luck and the move ends with CJ falling over. 

Then... a loose bit of football by Wimbledon's defence - Mitchell sees the moment, drives in behind his man and takes the ball on the bounce, he's straight through on goal and surely this is the moment! Demi sadly has other idea as he launches a bizarre kung fu kicked attempt that just bobbles to the keeper. Fuck's sake Pool! 

Maxwell squares up to the wimbledon no9. He's joining Steven Fletcher in my 'players that look like normal people' club - He's burly, bearded, his shirt looks a little tight in the way that was normal in 80s football. He looks like a fella who is pretty good at darts and like country and western music. 

Madine wins a free kick. Everyone is forward (it has to be remembered, that still leaves Wimbledon two men up... Woodburn curls it, straight into the first defender. It's scooped back in, Big marv is under it, but can't connect meaningfully and it bounces to the keeper

Then it's Woodburn again, but this time it's a lovely ball, to CJ who finds that pocket of space he needs and lets fly with his best Ronaldo impression, it's going in but for deflection and I'm howling on the couch. Fucking hell Pool. 

And there's time for more... CJ again, flying, on his own, against 4 men, but he gets away, pulls it back and the Goal Machine throws himself at it, diving at the near post, in an attempt to glance it home, I'm seeing a moment of utter redemption, an against all odds goal that will change the course of the season and possibly Critchley's entire management career....... but it hits the corner flag and we're done. 

Fuck me. This isn't getting any easier. 

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It's becoming one of those comical seasons. Where all you can do is laugh, bitterly and bemoan everything. The big mystery to me is, how come we can produce so many chances with 9 men and just about nothing with 11. We finally saw the Pool I want to see, direct, fast, aggressive, working incredibly hard for each other but it's absurd we only saw that when the game was up and we'd lost two players. They actually deserved to get back into it for the effort they put in after Ballard went. It was notable that you saw the players talking, pointing, shouting. Maxwell orchestrating booming goal kicks to Madine and players trying to pick up the pieces. 

Where's that been for the last x number of games? Why do we only see that at that point in the game? Why not start the game like that? Why faff about playing square balls and looking terrified of taking anyone on when you've got an even number of players and every chance of winning the game. I wonder if it's simply the players saying 'fuck it' and playing football in the way they see it working in that moment. If it was, it was a damn sight more effective than anything else we've done recently and the fact that twat it at Big Gaz and get on the knockdowns is our best bet doesn't reflect well on the dream of being Liverpool lite. Perhaps what was meant was we'd be like Liverpool when they had Benteke or Andy Carroll up front? 

I can't face doing a proper post mortem. Marv played well, Madine is the only convincing striker at the club and CJ looked more like CJ coming on. I've said everything else plenty of times before. Pass, check back, pass, run. Stop, check back, pass, boot it, lose it. Wait for the ball to come back and repeat. They're not having individual nightmares, there's no one who you'd point and and go 'he's been awful for x games in a row' - they're just not playing with any conviction or belief and it's got to come down to the instructions. When they threw caution to the wind, they actually gave a side with two more players than them a decent game by using their natural attributes, by stretching the game with pace and winning the ball with power and height. 

Maybe I'm being unfair. Maybe we were unlucky tonight, but it feels like something isn't right and whatever it is, we've got to sort it out. 

Deep breaths everyone. Deep breaths. Very deep breaths.

We're the Mighty Tangerine Wizards. The spells are misfiring, but one day, one day, we'll be fucking ace and all this will just make it better. 

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