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| 3 points from the last 6 games? We'll piss it! Just defend lads. What could possibly go wrong? |
This story begins with me on the phone to Owen Oyston. I'm insistent he shouldn't have got rid of Billy Ayre and even more insistent that as he hadn't given the messiah enough (any) money to spend, he should take the blame for our struggles, not the King himself. We've stayed up again as well, Billy crafting another against all odds survival on the back of a 4-1 last day miracle win. I listened to that game on the south coast of Scotland, radio twisting in the air in search of signal and each goal celebrated between me, the sea and some bemused seabirds. It's strange how vividly I remember it and yet, I wasn't even there.
Owen is charm personified on the Radio Lancashire phone in that has brought us together, he mollifies me, soothes my fury with such slickly spoken sugary platitudes as 'I can hear the passion in your voice, and trust me, we both want what's best for the football club.' Like a sociopath, he disarms me and I ring off without furiously demanding he leave or reinstall the King which had been my intention. It's a lesson in life. These people get where they get by being like this.
Years later I read that Billy was relieved of his duties as the chairman, (yet to be accused and subsequently convicted of rape) had been flirting with Peter Reid (who'd returned to playing after losing the Man City job and was drifting down the leagues) and thought wrongly he'd got his man. According to legend, Owen wanted the king to return to being a number 2 to work alongside the star name. How true that is, I suspect we'll never know for certain.
What I really didn't expect next was us to go for an ex Preston and Bolton centre half I didn't know a thing about.
Sam Allardyce? Who the fuck is he? I'm too young to remember his playing pomp (If clattering forwards can be described as a 'pomp') and all I could tell about him was he'd managed a few games as caretaker at Preston and done a season in Ireland. Surely this guy can't be Billy's replacement? You've swapped the best manager in the league for this? He's got a shit tache as well. Yeah, Billy had a tache, but it was a good one. Sam looks like a car salesman in the wrong career. All ill fitting suits and sweaty palmed promises you know he's no good for. In his tracksuit he wasn't much better, like a bloke who goes jogging on a Sunday but nips to the pub after 400 yards. No good can possibly come of this.
What was weird, was Owen did seem to make good on his oily assurances to me. Whereas the seasons before, we'd been threadbare and relied at times on the likes of Chris Speak (2 games in his entire football career,) Neil Mitchell, Andy Gouck and even coach out of retirement Neil Bailey as well as buying the players ourselves (Oi, Owen, give us back that money for Andy Watson if nothing else...!), in the Big Sam Era we almost immediately went out and signed Tony Ellis. Tony fucking Ellis. Who saw that coming? Not me. I'm still slightly taken aback by it, 26 years later.
Not only Ellis, but players like Mickey Mellon, who'd actually played for West Brom in the first team, Andy Morrison who was highly rated at Blackburn, Les Sealey from the real Manchester United, Phil Brown, who I'd actually heard of and more. It didn't matter that Sealey turned out to be really shit, the rest of them proved to be quite good and in the case of Mellon and even more so Morrison and Ellis, absolute top drawer players who have had few equals to this day.
When you look at how Allardyce is received today, it's interesting to reflect on how good Pool are in this season. Pool are barnstorming for a lot of this year and as well as the above, the side features at various times, the mercurial skill of James Quinn, the sublime fox in the box Andy Watson and the classy Mark Bonner. It's a real silk and steel affair and we're an absolute pleasure to watch, not least because we give as good as we get, we earn the right to play and play we do when we're on top, which for much of the season is most of the time.
Andy Barlow at left back was solid and unspectacular but Marvin Bryan on the other side hared down the wing like he'd invented a new position. A sort of winger cum fullback. We could call it 'wing-back?' It'll never catch on. Linighan and Morrison were a stone wall. Darren Bradshaw the cement. Mellon pinged it about in a way we wouldn't see till Richie Wellens, Philpott went down one wing and crossed, all too briefly Rick Holden went down the other and Preece, Ellis, Quinn and sometimes Watson made hay.
We really were good for much of that year. Like a heavyweight boxer who is deceptively nimble on his feet. Tough, strong but more than good enough to put teams to the sword. Athletic, muscular and exciting to watch. We gloriously beat the Clampets twice in 10 days, home and away. We hit teams for 3 and 4 and almost never (at least till the end of the season) fail to score. The stands ring to the not quite rhythmically correct 'Allardyce's Tangerine Army' - his name doesn't quite doesn't fit, but we're playing so well, we have to sing it.
Big Sam smokes tabs in the dugout. He prowls the touchline with a B+H on the go, or furiously chewing gum. Who couldn't fail to grudgingly love a manager who smokes? I'd warm a lot more to prefect Ole or boring Frank Lampard if they sparked up once in a while.
We fear no one. We beat Bradford, crucify Crewe, smash Swansea, batter both Bristols, carve up Carlisle and we even take a point away from home against the only other team who seem to be able to hold a candle to us in Steve McMahon's Swindon. Nothing can stop this tangerine machine. Not even an irritating bald Scouser. Not even having a shirt with 'Rebecca's Jewellers, Southport' on the front. Nothing...
I've long since ditched my programmes (and how I wish I hadn't) so I don't know what games I saw in that first season of Allardyce. What I do know is, the first few I saw were quite boring and I swear he played Dave Bamber at centre back for one of them. The one game I do clearly remember was a 0-0 draw sometime towards the end of the season against Crewe who were, at the time, a serious proposition - Robbie Savage, Neil Lennon, Danny Murphy, Ashley Ward and Dele Adebola all on their books and in Dario Gradi, one of the most wily managers in the lower leagues. It was a fascinating game. The best 0-0 I've ever seen and I remember being struck by the fact that clearly, some of the Crewe players were very, very good, but the way we'd nullified them, the way Allardyce had utilised our players, shouting from the touchline and directing things, was just as worthy as their talent.
The real story though comes in the second and final season of his reign. We only go and buy Andy Preece! Andy Preece! He's an actual Premier League player whose been on Match of the Day. He's someone my mates who don't support shit Div 3 teams have heard of. Not only that, but we've added the brilliant Steve Banks and Marvin Bryan - two astute signings from the lower leagues who will remain firm favourites long after Sam leaves the building. We will go on to add Rick Holden (yes, the Rick Holden) who is the best crosser I will see for years. We also pay real cash money during the season for Lee Philpott (oi, pisspot, that's shite!) and David Lineghan, who isn't quite Andy Lineghan but looks pretty similar and also has graced the top level in the recent past.
The real story though comes in the second and final season of his reign. We only go and buy Andy Preece! Andy Preece! He's an actual Premier League player whose been on Match of the Day. He's someone my mates who don't support shit Div 3 teams have heard of. Not only that, but we've added the brilliant Steve Banks and Marvin Bryan - two astute signings from the lower leagues who will remain firm favourites long after Sam leaves the building. We will go on to add Rick Holden (yes, the Rick Holden) who is the best crosser I will see for years. We also pay real cash money during the season for Lee Philpott (oi, pisspot, that's shite!) and David Lineghan, who isn't quite Andy Lineghan but looks pretty similar and also has graced the top level in the recent past.
We only went and signed a player who had had a poster in 'Match' AND wasn't over 35.
When you look at how Allardyce is received today, it's interesting to reflect on how good Pool are in this season. Pool are barnstorming for a lot of this year and as well as the above, the side features at various times, the mercurial skill of James Quinn, the sublime fox in the box Andy Watson and the classy Mark Bonner. It's a real silk and steel affair and we're an absolute pleasure to watch, not least because we give as good as we get, we earn the right to play and play we do when we're on top, which for much of the season is most of the time.
Andy Barlow at left back was solid and unspectacular but Marvin Bryan on the other side hared down the wing like he'd invented a new position. A sort of winger cum fullback. We could call it 'wing-back?' It'll never catch on. Linighan and Morrison were a stone wall. Darren Bradshaw the cement. Mellon pinged it about in a way we wouldn't see till Richie Wellens, Philpott went down one wing and crossed, all too briefly Rick Holden went down the other and Preece, Ellis, Quinn and sometimes Watson made hay.
We really were good for much of that year. Like a heavyweight boxer who is deceptively nimble on his feet. Tough, strong but more than good enough to put teams to the sword. Athletic, muscular and exciting to watch. We gloriously beat the Clampets twice in 10 days, home and away. We hit teams for 3 and 4 and almost never (at least till the end of the season) fail to score. The stands ring to the not quite rhythmically correct 'Allardyce's Tangerine Army' - his name doesn't quite doesn't fit, but we're playing so well, we have to sing it.
Big Sam smokes tabs in the dugout. He prowls the touchline with a B+H on the go, or furiously chewing gum. Who couldn't fail to grudgingly love a manager who smokes? I'd warm a lot more to prefect Ole or boring Frank Lampard if they sparked up once in a while.
We fear no one. We beat Bradford, crucify Crewe, smash Swansea, batter both Bristols, carve up Carlisle and we even take a point away from home against the only other team who seem to be able to hold a candle to us in Steve McMahon's Swindon. Nothing can stop this tangerine machine. Not even an irritating bald Scouser. Not even having a shirt with 'Rebecca's Jewellers, Southport' on the front. Nothing...
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| The Mighty Quinn. |
Nothing will stop us, it seems, except a total implosion and implode we do. We implode like a matchstick spaceship in a black hole.
Who knows what happens? Does Sam bottle it and try and defend his way to what seems like a nailed on promotion? Why does he bring in Eric Nixon, who is utter shite and play him ahead of Steve Banks who really isn't? What happens to the Preece, Ellis, Quinn (and Watson just in case...) a front three who couldn't stop scoring, but who stop scoring enough to win games? Where did the rock like defence go? We just can't buy a win and can barely scrape a draw as the season ends in a car crash sequence of 2 points from 18 that sees us slip into the play offs on the final day. Margins so fine that reading the sequence back, you're tempted to believe that if you just read it again, we still might get that crucial point.
Lets not speak of those play offs... We're usually so good at them as well.
How does something that looked so promising, so assured and so strong fall apart like that? I don't know, but as I stand on the South Paddock on a May evening, shell shocked at the Bradford smash and grab job, I feel closer to crying than I've ever done or ever will at a football match. Allardyce will soon be relieved of his job amid rumours of losing the dressing room to dark forces. Owen Oyston won't be on Radio Lancashire to field calls this time because a week later he's headed for a prison cell, his alleged misdeeds confirmed for certain in a court of law.
The club will take 11 years and 5 managers to get back to this point and Allardyce will need to go to Notts County to rebuild his reputation after the sacking. Rebuild he does and in the 24 and a bit years since, there's barely a failure (arguably, no outright failures at all) on his CV but despite a good number of promotions, taking Horwich to Europe, pissing off the likes of Wenger, getting all pally with Fergie and landing jobs like Everton, Newcastle and of course, the tragicomic England reign, ultimately, trophies have eluded him.
At Pool he was idiosyncratic, bloody minded and everything he'd become was there. He'd sit on top of the dugout to get a better view, he'd bark and wave at refs like a man possessed. He'd sometimes have a mad big mobile phone though I can't remember seeing him actually using it. He'd sign central defenders just because they were available (and his son was...) He was never worshipped like Billy Ayre, but he certainly had a midas touch with players than couldn't be denied. Even Andy Gouck was good under Allardyce.
There's a sense that across his career, just like that first job, he's come close, that he's got something special about him and maybe should have done more but that he has perhaps cost himself the shot at glory he so clearly aspires too by insisting, as he did in those final months at the seaside, that trying not to lose is better than trying to win.
Is that fair? I don't know, but I do know, believe it or not, whether or not you see football as a moral crusade or an art form, whatever you think of the man and his teams, I definitely, 100% certainly, saw a Sam Allardyce side who were worth watching and went out to win games, (until, disastrously, for whatever reason, they didn't)
Who knows what happens? Does Sam bottle it and try and defend his way to what seems like a nailed on promotion? Why does he bring in Eric Nixon, who is utter shite and play him ahead of Steve Banks who really isn't? What happens to the Preece, Ellis, Quinn (and Watson just in case...) a front three who couldn't stop scoring, but who stop scoring enough to win games? Where did the rock like defence go? We just can't buy a win and can barely scrape a draw as the season ends in a car crash sequence of 2 points from 18 that sees us slip into the play offs on the final day. Margins so fine that reading the sequence back, you're tempted to believe that if you just read it again, we still might get that crucial point.
Lets not speak of those play offs... We're usually so good at them as well.
How does something that looked so promising, so assured and so strong fall apart like that? I don't know, but as I stand on the South Paddock on a May evening, shell shocked at the Bradford smash and grab job, I feel closer to crying than I've ever done or ever will at a football match. Allardyce will soon be relieved of his job amid rumours of losing the dressing room to dark forces. Owen Oyston won't be on Radio Lancashire to field calls this time because a week later he's headed for a prison cell, his alleged misdeeds confirmed for certain in a court of law.
The club will take 11 years and 5 managers to get back to this point and Allardyce will need to go to Notts County to rebuild his reputation after the sacking. Rebuild he does and in the 24 and a bit years since, there's barely a failure (arguably, no outright failures at all) on his CV but despite a good number of promotions, taking Horwich to Europe, pissing off the likes of Wenger, getting all pally with Fergie and landing jobs like Everton, Newcastle and of course, the tragicomic England reign, ultimately, trophies have eluded him.
At Pool he was idiosyncratic, bloody minded and everything he'd become was there. He'd sit on top of the dugout to get a better view, he'd bark and wave at refs like a man possessed. He'd sometimes have a mad big mobile phone though I can't remember seeing him actually using it. He'd sign central defenders just because they were available (and his son was...) He was never worshipped like Billy Ayre, but he certainly had a midas touch with players than couldn't be denied. Even Andy Gouck was good under Allardyce.
There's a sense that across his career, just like that first job, he's come close, that he's got something special about him and maybe should have done more but that he has perhaps cost himself the shot at glory he so clearly aspires too by insisting, as he did in those final months at the seaside, that trying not to lose is better than trying to win.
Is that fair? I don't know, but I do know, believe it or not, whether or not you see football as a moral crusade or an art form, whatever you think of the man and his teams, I definitely, 100% certainly, saw a Sam Allardyce side who were worth watching and went out to win games, (until, disastrously, for whatever reason, they didn't)
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