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| "If he doesn't stop pissing about, I'm going to take his head off..." |
It's been *a bit of a week* - lives turned upside down by lockdown, an attempted coup in the self styled home of the free world, a rampant virus knocking on our doors, circling our homes, filling hospital wards like a horror film come to life and on top of all that, my kettle broke leaving me brewing up with a pan like a student from the 1980s.
Football yes? Football no? I don't know. Should we be playing? Maybe not. Do I need this though? Fuck yeah! Lets chuck out morality, the ambiguity of right or wrong, the many shades of grey in between and just say 'C'mon you POOOOOOOOOOL' - It's the FA Cup, which is the BEST cup and we're in it to win it. We're up for the cup and frankly, up for ANYTHING that takes our minds of the sack of shite that resembles life at the moment.
Can we beat the Baggies/Throstles/Albion/WBA/West Brom? (why do they have so many names - is there any other team you can write down in so many ways?) - I don't really watch the Premier League anyway so my guess is as good as that of a Japanese soldier who has been hiding out in the jungle since WW2. They've got Big Sam and he knows his way around a line up, but I suspect he won't give a flying fuck about the cup as it doesn't really fit into his main mission - survival. We'll see.
For Critchley, I think a cup run is more of a goal. We're a work in progress. At times ace, at times tepidly mediocre, and often in between the two. A good cup run would give us belief. We've been better against the better teams and poor against the more brutal, stodgy sides. What will West Brom be? Based on the way that Allardyce is (possibly unjustly) characterised, we can expect a side that are good at being stodgy and brutal, kind of like Wycombe on steroids, but you suspect some of their individual players will be mad for it, given as they're playing for their futures with a new boss and all that.
Critch brings in Maxwell and the Viking is back to partner Ballard for the first time, Jimmy Husband is in for Garbutt and excitingly Bez plays - he's good and bad within thirty seconds of each others, but I can't help feeling that if you leave him on the pitch for a bit, something will happen sooner or later. It might be a 30 yarder into the top corner, it might be a slice into the corner flag, it might be both, but it won't be boring.
---
There's proper applause for those we've lost in the last year and then we're away... Pool have the first decent move, little triangles that end up with an offside flag. I wonder if Sam might look at Gary Madine as he wins an early flick on and think 'oh aye, if I can't have Kevin Davies trundling about at the top any more, this lad would do...'
Critch looks to have bit of a face on about something. I don't know what it is, but he just looks irritated. Perhaps wor Gaz cracked a nasty joke about not being able to tell him and Sammy Lee apart? Madine wins another flick on. The refracted sun coming over the corner of the South West stand gives everything a dream like quality. Madine does a Cruyff turn. Grant Ward and Kemp both drop passes short of their target.
West Brom have a go, coming down the left, pulling the ball across. Ward nips in and the ref blows up anyway. Madine takes it down and has a go from distance. He's started like he's had the same thought about portly Sam as I have. He controls, back to goal and lays off to shirtless Jerry who slaps it a long way wide from a long way out.
Bez has a nice little run, where he ghosts past 3 in his own half, it comes to nothing but is part of a good bit of possession that eventually culminates in a Grant Ward cross that is manfully defended, Madine, for just about the first time, not able to get his head on a ball in his general vicinity.
It's not a classic so far. The Baggies are halted twice on forward forays, once by the flag and then by the Viking and Ballard sandwiching a forward chasing a through ball. We have a little foray, Kemp with a nice give and go, touching off for Turton then racing down the right flank after Turton's lofted pass but his ball across is charged down.
West Brom are hitting the heart of the defence, driving balls at the centre halves as if hoping for a mistake from one of them. Madine heads away from almost under the bar from a free kick we concede after getting tangled up playing out. The ball comes back though and they strike it across the face of goal and just past the far post. A warning.
Ward spots up a free kick at the other end, swinging it deep, Bez has pulled wide, he twists himself to get goalside and nods it back, Ballard swivels from the corner of the six yard box and lashes it but it's rising and lands somewhere around the 'D' of Armfield in the seats. I'm musing to myself that Grant Ward's beard makes him look a bit like looks a bit like a terracotta warrior as Maxwell makes a good save from a WBA freekick, stepping, once, twice and springing in his agile way, to claim the ball with both hands. to his left.
They have a move in which Krovinovic shows the first sign of 'Premier League quality,' (tm - every Sky commentator in every game ever) dropping his shoulder and selling the whole defence a dummy. The move breaks down though and Pool counter, Dougall, to Yates, to Madine. The Goal Machine fouled and the moment is over. It's all a bit like that really. Everything that starts breaks down.
Bez tests their right back for pace, he's just about quick enough. Kemp controls on the edge of the box, but it's a hand ball. Neither side really on top, West Brom playing slightly higher. Krovinovic then pulls another moment out, picking it up in space, quite deep but then surprising every with a dipping, swirling drive that goes just over. A clever free kick slips away Grosicki, he's got space but can't make the cross count. He looks like he should have played a Chernobyl fireman on the HBO series. Krovinovic has another go and again it worries Maxwell, who beats away a swerving, fizzing effort. WBA are on top.
Then it changes, a 180 switch in the flow of the game. Grant Ward picks it up and strides forward, loping gracefully into space and finding Madine ahead of him. They've got players back and the goal machine is lonely but Madine is calm, just skipping sideways, buying a little space, waiting for support, then feeding Bez on the left who goes to the byline, then slides it across, Kemp goes to the near post but is shielded from the ball but there, at the far post is Jerry Yates, to smash it home just beyond the reach of the keeper. It felt like a goal was coming, for all the world, it felt like it was going to go the other way.
---
It's been a bit ugly, but fuck that, we're winning - imagine the rousing applause at half time. They've looked the more likely, but we've scored the goal. The biggest plus is Bez getting involved in a crucial moment and us sticking to the task. We've not been bullied, we've stood our ground and the goal was well created.
---
The second half nearly begins with a repeat of our goal, WBA repelled by the goal machine again doing defensive work, nodding away on the edge of the box, Ward is then running into space but is hauled down by Gallagher, a cynical foul by a man with a precocious amount of hair, it's not just the length but the sheer thickness of it that catches the eye. Pool nearly make it count anyway as the free kick is lifted long, Madine wins the ball again at the other end of the pitch and Yates is just edged away from the knock down on the edge of the six yard box.
The Baggies cause a few jitters, we try to play through them a few times. Ollie Turton doesn't get a shout and ends up causing a scare, putting a ball over his own bar from a cross. From the corner, it's worked short then swung across, where Ajayi rises above Husband and glances past Maxwell. It's probably fair on the balance of play but who thinks like that really? It stings. Sam reacts to the goal impassively as if he's beyond surprise or emotion, as if football is just a mechanical act. Critchley wears an expression of someone doing a difficult cryptic crossword clue.
Ballard tidies up as WBA advance down the middle. Yates is whistled as he tries to nick the ball on the edge of their box. Come on Pool! Jimmy Husband crosses, Madine leaps, gets under the ball and loops it on to the top of the crossbar. Turton and Ajayi clash, with a brilliant burst of 'fucking hell!' coming from the speakers as he tumbles. Gallagher slaps one over the top from a good position.
Pool have a lovely move, holding possession for a good minute or two after a couple of West Brom subs disrupts their flow, before finally, neat passing and movement sees Turton away on the right, one touch to control, several strides forward then an evil curling ball into the box, as good as you good wish, Yates comes towards it on a diagonal run, angles himself to glance it home but the ball comes off at an odd angle and rolls harmlessly wide. That could have been *the chance*.
But what's this? It's Kemp, to Yates, to Madine, all one touch, right down the middle, the Goal Machine is no sprinter but he makes it and takes it first time, a beautiful finish, just rolling it from 20 yards into the one spot the keeper can't reach. Critch goes mental, skipping like new born fawn frollicking in a spring meadow. Sam chews gum like a sulky cow in the next field.
The game goes back to how it was before. The sky is a dramatic purple backdrop above the Kop as West Brom press, winning the odd corner, swinging the odd elbow into Madine's face. Bez's race is run, his last act to throw himself at a cross at the far post and Sullay is on, his first act, one of those ridiculous feats of close control in the corner that make us all wish he could just do that every time he gets it.
The the referee fucks it all up. A stupid decision in the stupid fucking modern football way, a cross from wide striking Turton on the arm, he doesn't raise it in response to the cross, it's just where it is in the course of his natural movement. It's the sort of thing where people say 'the ref had no choice' but clearly, they do. They could ignore that stupid rule and it would go away eventually. Even portly Sam agrees it's harsh. Pereira does a stupid little pony trot and puts it bottom corner. Even penalty saving miracle man Sam Walker wouldn't have stopped that. Fucking hell.
20/21s unluckiest Pool player Matty Virtue comes on for Kemp and scores instantly but it's offside. The Baggies come forward with menace, we break in response. A chance falls to Ollie Turton of all people. You can guess where it ends up. C'mon Pool!
Virtue controls well on the edge of the box and drives it just wide. C'mon! Maxwell is whacked taking a cross, the ref whistles. Turton again slashes an effort wide. We're into injury time as Pool work lovely triangles on the right and earn a corner, Madine nods down again, Yates spins but kicks air and it goes wide... We're even deeper into it when Dan Ballard cuts out a dangerous cross at the near post from a left wing run by the Baggies.
Full time. We was robbed. Fuming.
---
Marvin is for on for Dan Ballard.
We start with a corner, it's nodded away. Sullay picks it up and plays a curling, inswinging ball to die for that somehow, no one reaches. Yates, slips in Madine, who forces a sharp near post save. Sullay bursts through on the edge of the box, beating one but hitting a crowd... A cynic would say he should have gone down. We create chances, a pull back that bisects Kaikai and Madine, another Virtue drive from distance. They create the odd bit, a pull back whacked over the bar the best effort.
The Viking does his groin. Critch more or less shouts 'fuck you Thorniley' as the left sided centre back stays sat on the bench and Demi Mitchell comes on instead, Husband shuffling across to the middle, a position where he likes to get sent off from. Demi looks up for it today, galloping forward from left back with purpose. He should never play on the right. Ever. Ever. Ever.
Ward nips in, Sullay takes it and oh, my word, he just goes, right down the middle, he's magic when he's like this, he's like a mountain stream in full flow, skipping round the static rocks of the Baggies defence, he sets himself to strike, cracks it with everything he's got but it's half a yard over the top.
---
The second half nearly begins with a repeat of our goal, WBA repelled by the goal machine again doing defensive work, nodding away on the edge of the box, Ward is then running into space but is hauled down by Gallagher, a cynical foul by a man with a precocious amount of hair, it's not just the length but the sheer thickness of it that catches the eye. Pool nearly make it count anyway as the free kick is lifted long, Madine wins the ball again at the other end of the pitch and Yates is just edged away from the knock down on the edge of the six yard box.
The Baggies cause a few jitters, we try to play through them a few times. Ollie Turton doesn't get a shout and ends up causing a scare, putting a ball over his own bar from a cross. From the corner, it's worked short then swung across, where Ajayi rises above Husband and glances past Maxwell. It's probably fair on the balance of play but who thinks like that really? It stings. Sam reacts to the goal impassively as if he's beyond surprise or emotion, as if football is just a mechanical act. Critchley wears an expression of someone doing a difficult cryptic crossword clue.
Ballard tidies up as WBA advance down the middle. Yates is whistled as he tries to nick the ball on the edge of their box. Come on Pool! Jimmy Husband crosses, Madine leaps, gets under the ball and loops it on to the top of the crossbar. Turton and Ajayi clash, with a brilliant burst of 'fucking hell!' coming from the speakers as he tumbles. Gallagher slaps one over the top from a good position.
Pool have a lovely move, holding possession for a good minute or two after a couple of West Brom subs disrupts their flow, before finally, neat passing and movement sees Turton away on the right, one touch to control, several strides forward then an evil curling ball into the box, as good as you good wish, Yates comes towards it on a diagonal run, angles himself to glance it home but the ball comes off at an odd angle and rolls harmlessly wide. That could have been *the chance*.
But what's this? It's Kemp, to Yates, to Madine, all one touch, right down the middle, the Goal Machine is no sprinter but he makes it and takes it first time, a beautiful finish, just rolling it from 20 yards into the one spot the keeper can't reach. Critch goes mental, skipping like new born fawn frollicking in a spring meadow. Sam chews gum like a sulky cow in the next field.
The game goes back to how it was before. The sky is a dramatic purple backdrop above the Kop as West Brom press, winning the odd corner, swinging the odd elbow into Madine's face. Bez's race is run, his last act to throw himself at a cross at the far post and Sullay is on, his first act, one of those ridiculous feats of close control in the corner that make us all wish he could just do that every time he gets it.
The the referee fucks it all up. A stupid decision in the stupid fucking modern football way, a cross from wide striking Turton on the arm, he doesn't raise it in response to the cross, it's just where it is in the course of his natural movement. It's the sort of thing where people say 'the ref had no choice' but clearly, they do. They could ignore that stupid rule and it would go away eventually. Even portly Sam agrees it's harsh. Pereira does a stupid little pony trot and puts it bottom corner. Even penalty saving miracle man Sam Walker wouldn't have stopped that. Fucking hell.
20/21s unluckiest Pool player Matty Virtue comes on for Kemp and scores instantly but it's offside. The Baggies come forward with menace, we break in response. A chance falls to Ollie Turton of all people. You can guess where it ends up. C'mon Pool!
Virtue controls well on the edge of the box and drives it just wide. C'mon! Maxwell is whacked taking a cross, the ref whistles. Turton again slashes an effort wide. We're into injury time as Pool work lovely triangles on the right and earn a corner, Madine nods down again, Yates spins but kicks air and it goes wide... We're even deeper into it when Dan Ballard cuts out a dangerous cross at the near post from a left wing run by the Baggies.
Full time. We was robbed. Fuming.
---
Marvin is for on for Dan Ballard.
We start with a corner, it's nodded away. Sullay picks it up and plays a curling, inswinging ball to die for that somehow, no one reaches. Yates, slips in Madine, who forces a sharp near post save. Sullay bursts through on the edge of the box, beating one but hitting a crowd... A cynic would say he should have gone down. We create chances, a pull back that bisects Kaikai and Madine, another Virtue drive from distance. They create the odd bit, a pull back whacked over the bar the best effort.
The Viking does his groin. Critch more or less shouts 'fuck you Thorniley' as the left sided centre back stays sat on the bench and Demi Mitchell comes on instead, Husband shuffling across to the middle, a position where he likes to get sent off from. Demi looks up for it today, galloping forward from left back with purpose. He should never play on the right. Ever. Ever. Ever.
Ward nips in, Sullay takes it and oh, my word, he just goes, right down the middle, he's magic when he's like this, he's like a mountain stream in full flow, skipping round the static rocks of the Baggies defence, he sets himself to strike, cracks it with everything he's got but it's half a yard over the top.
We've hammered them this half. C'mon Pool!!!!
---
"Ref, he's fucking away ref!" comes through loud and clear from the Pool bench as Sullay bursts clear on a break only to be scythed down. Ajayi puts his hands in Madine's face again for what I make the third time. He's already on a card but he seems fine to keep groping big Gaz anytime he likes. Maxwell makes an outstanding stop from Edwards, flinging himself low and keeping out a stinging low drive from close in.
Ward has to come off, replays suggesting his problem is possibly also related to hands in the face, Robson comes on. Dougall almost puts Virtue in from deep, a gorgeous lofted ball over the top but the Throstles just about stop the lively Virtue in his tracks.
Pool win a free kick from brave play by Mitchell. The skinny Tyson Fury in goals for West Brom yells and points. We smack the free kick into the wall. A ball comes across. Virtue meets it well, but at the exact same time as West Brom foot and it just makes a loud noise and goes nowhere. Sullay threads a pass, Demi is in a great place to cross but lifts it way over everyone and that is that.
It's penalties and I don't feel good about that. If WBA shaded the first half, we've been brilliant in injury time and look fitter and more likely. That just about guarantees we'll lose the shoot out.
---
"Ref, he's fucking away ref!" comes through loud and clear from the Pool bench as Sullay bursts clear on a break only to be scythed down. Ajayi puts his hands in Madine's face again for what I make the third time. He's already on a card but he seems fine to keep groping big Gaz anytime he likes. Maxwell makes an outstanding stop from Edwards, flinging himself low and keeping out a stinging low drive from close in.
Ward has to come off, replays suggesting his problem is possibly also related to hands in the face, Robson comes on. Dougall almost puts Virtue in from deep, a gorgeous lofted ball over the top but the Throstles just about stop the lively Virtue in his tracks.
Pool win a free kick from brave play by Mitchell. The skinny Tyson Fury in goals for West Brom yells and points. We smack the free kick into the wall. A ball comes across. Virtue meets it well, but at the exact same time as West Brom foot and it just makes a loud noise and goes nowhere. Sullay threads a pass, Demi is in a great place to cross but lifts it way over everyone and that is that.
It's penalties and I don't feel good about that. If WBA shaded the first half, we've been brilliant in injury time and look fitter and more likely. That just about guarantees we'll lose the shoot out.
---
Super Jerry up first at the Kop end. The keeper fannies about like an absolute knob for a bit, walking away from the goal, pissing about with his towel, stepping off the line, questioning where the ball is placed. Yates tries to ignore him. He runs up crisply and hits the lower corner, just inside the right hand post, but the keeper gets there as it's not hit hard enough. 0-0
The Soviet fireman is next for them. He goes straight down the middle and gives them the lead. 0-1
The Soviet fireman is next for them. He goes straight down the middle and gives them the lead. 0-1
The keeper knobs about again. Dougall goes into the roof of the net. A brilliant penalty. Sit down skinny Tyson Fury. Take that. 1-1. Critch grins, he's an impish delight at times like this.
Edwards next. No fuss but Maxwell goes right and saves it. Yes! Still 1-1.
It's Jimmy Husband, a little stutter and sending the keeper the wrong way. Calm as you like. 2-1. COME ON POOL!!!
Now Furlong. A stutter again, but Maxwell reads it, waiting that split second longer and he goes down to his left and saves it. 2-1 still.
Now super Gaz... He just puts the ball down, takes a couple of steps back and smacks it. Actually, 'smacks it' doesn't do it justice. He launches it right down the middle with the force of V2 rocket. It nearly takes the keeper's head off and almost breaks the net in the bargain. The look he gives the terrified keeper suggests he enjoyed it very much. That'll teach you to fuck about like that skinny Tyson Fury... We lead 3-1 and Gary Madine is king of the world.
Livermore takes a good penalty to keep WBA in it. 3-2
Now Sullay... this could be just what he needs. He's been much brighter in his cameo today than the last couple of games combined and this could really top it off and get his confidence back. He sends the keeper totally the wrong way but the ball rattles the base of the post... Oh, Sullay! 3-2
Now Pereira, who totally did Maxwell from his previous effort, he sets off with a silly prancing dressage horse run once again but this time, Maxwell throws himself to the right and makes a great stop, again just waiting and following the ball 3-2!
WE FUCKING DID IT!!!! Sam trudges, he's seen it all before. Critch canters off, arms aloft, beaming, eyes alight with naive and pure joy. How can you begrudge a man like that his delight? We did it! We fucking DID IT! One day he'll amble like Sam and it'll be just another game, but this means something to him and that means everything to us.
The only shame is we're not there. This would be one of those games where the applause tumbles from the stand and the chants go on. Where you leave the ground and float away into the night air, carried in crowd of others of the same mind. But for all that. It still feels pretty good.
---
What more is there to say? This was a cracking performance. We held our own when they were on top and as the game drew on, rather than clinging on, we looked like we could go and win it. I've written enough on our shortcomings so tonight, I'm just going to say they were magnificent. Dougall was back to his best, nipping in, using it well, playing it short and long, fighting for everything. Ward really does seem to have grown into his role in the middle and was at the heart of a lot for us. Some thought the loan keeper was better than Maxwell, (not me) but he played brilliantly today, picking up exactly where he left off pre covid. Madine was a focal point, Yates buzzed and harried. The defence did as they usually do these days, Turton I thought played well going forward as well. Bez had a competent enough game, looking way less headless than on some earlier starts and creating a goal. Sullay and particularly Virtue sparkled when they came on, Virtue's drive and willingness to shoot a very welcome sight given our penchant for possession without an end result.
There's nothing else that matches a cup win. The excitement of 'what comes next?' The mad optimism of 'how far can we go?'
I'd tell you how far we can go.
All the way to WEMBLEY.
Fuck the rest of life. Tonight is class.
There's nothing else that matches a cup win. The excitement of 'what comes next?' The mad optimism of 'how far can we go?'
I'd tell you how far we can go.
All the way to WEMBLEY.
Fuck the rest of life. Tonight is class.
utmp
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