Idle cooling towers. A buzzard glides low overhead, uninterested in the speeding metal prey below. Past Wigan, we turn a corner and the Manchester plain lies before us, towers rise out of the hazy distance, the sky a seascape of heavy ribbed grey, flecked with with a white spray of lighter cloud, the Pennines a charcoal blur in the background that mark the divide between the land and the heavens.
More idle cooling towers. Trees, still green but turning yellow at the extremes as if bleached at the tips by autumn. Grass, burnt dry in summer heat, a faded straw memory of a faded season covers the embankments and central reservation. Drive-thrus. So many drives-thrus. What did we do before we could get coffee at our car windows? Won't someone think of the flask industry? Yet more cooling towers, this time 8 of them and this time, active, steam rising into invisibility.
A tram ride disrupted. A medical emergency blocks the line. An ambulance standing, the door ajar, a stolen guilty voyeuristic glance into the darkened interior sheds no light on what has happened..Who knows what or who hangs in the balance inside. The tram, now rerouted on the other line glides on. Nottingham slides by. A walk through an industrial past and more floodlights than I know what to do with. Meadow Lane, Trent Bridge. The City Ground. Leaden skies turn to riverside sunshine and rowing boats racing. A dodgily drawn Brian flogs 'Cloughie's Cobs' - It's what he would have wanted.
I've not speculated about the team I want because choice is a luxury that comes with fit players. I've got visions of Critch just getting on the bus and hoping he can count up to 11. When the team does arrive, Keshi is out, Sterling is out. Two further surprises to add to those we already knew about. Maybe Critch should just do table tennis in training next week and see if Reading would like to simulate the game on Football Manager. Mind you, Daniel Gretarsson would probably swallow the ping pong ball or get electrocuted plugging in the laptop, so probably best not to risk even that.
---
The City Ground is a tight old stadium. It's probably best not to go if you're more than 6 ft tall. It's rammed with Pool and pleasingly, also rammed with Forest fans. Going away to big grounds can be a dispiriting reminder of the fickleness of supporters and the realities of post Premier League life but the ground has both a ramshackle authenticity and plenty of noise. This isn't a club of fair weather fans who only turned up to see the opposition when the opposition were Man Utd and Liverpool. Pool are lightning in the first minute or two. Bowler and Madine combine to force a corner.
That's about as good as it gets for a good while. Madine goes down and I curse fate. I assume his groin has gone but it looks like he's getting treatment on his ankle. He limps off in a way that suggests a substitution but then limps back on again in a way that suggests 'no strikers on the bench.' Forest keep us penned back for ages without really doing anything much other than have a few shots blocked. We don't really do much in response.
I'm right up close to the away fans and I'm convinced if you put the gestural antagonism of the two sets of fans on at some kind of French performance art show it would be declared a new level of mimetic perfection, a gesticular triumph of artistic expression. One of our lads is particularly expressive and spends the entire 90 minutes just grinning at the Forest fans whilst goading them with a creativity I can only express awe at.
On the pitch itself Bowler is just about everything creative today. 'If he had an end product...' sighs the lad behind me. I suspect that might get written on Bowler's gravestone. 'Here lies Josh. He was fucking mint to watch, but, oh, if only he'd had an end product...' John-Jules is not exactly Keshi. We'll leave it there for now.
Madine is one of those moods where jumping is beneath him. Maybe his ankle? Jerry is fizzing about as he does but aside from him, we're flat, both metaphorically and literally. The triangles aren't on. Forest press and we go sideways or vertically down the flanks. They're doing better in terms of playing diagonally and they undo us with a raking ball behind Gabriel who gets caught a bit flat footed, their lad races behind him, knocks a cross in and they score with a tap in. One of those horrible easy goals.
At some point Marvin makes possibly the best challenge I've ever seen him do, which is to say, one of the greatest challenges of all time, following his man diagonally into the box, waiting, waiting and then lifting a leg, taking the ball away from him in the air, on the stretch and somehow not laying a touch on him. His timing is unbelievable. To think it's barely a year since he looked a possible liability and now he's captaining the side and looking like an absolute (genuine) Swiss watch of a player.
A tram ride disrupted. A medical emergency blocks the line. An ambulance standing, the door ajar, a stolen guilty voyeuristic glance into the darkened interior sheds no light on what has happened..Who knows what or who hangs in the balance inside. The tram, now rerouted on the other line glides on. Nottingham slides by. A walk through an industrial past and more floodlights than I know what to do with. Meadow Lane, Trent Bridge. The City Ground. Leaden skies turn to riverside sunshine and rowing boats racing. A dodgily drawn Brian flogs 'Cloughie's Cobs' - It's what he would have wanted.
I've not speculated about the team I want because choice is a luxury that comes with fit players. I've got visions of Critch just getting on the bus and hoping he can count up to 11. When the team does arrive, Keshi is out, Sterling is out. Two further surprises to add to those we already knew about. Maybe Critch should just do table tennis in training next week and see if Reading would like to simulate the game on Football Manager. Mind you, Daniel Gretarsson would probably swallow the ping pong ball or get electrocuted plugging in the laptop, so probably best not to risk even that.
---
The City Ground is a tight old stadium. It's probably best not to go if you're more than 6 ft tall. It's rammed with Pool and pleasingly, also rammed with Forest fans. Going away to big grounds can be a dispiriting reminder of the fickleness of supporters and the realities of post Premier League life but the ground has both a ramshackle authenticity and plenty of noise. This isn't a club of fair weather fans who only turned up to see the opposition when the opposition were Man Utd and Liverpool. Pool are lightning in the first minute or two. Bowler and Madine combine to force a corner.
That's about as good as it gets for a good while. Madine goes down and I curse fate. I assume his groin has gone but it looks like he's getting treatment on his ankle. He limps off in a way that suggests a substitution but then limps back on again in a way that suggests 'no strikers on the bench.' Forest keep us penned back for ages without really doing anything much other than have a few shots blocked. We don't really do much in response.
I'm right up close to the away fans and I'm convinced if you put the gestural antagonism of the two sets of fans on at some kind of French performance art show it would be declared a new level of mimetic perfection, a gesticular triumph of artistic expression. One of our lads is particularly expressive and spends the entire 90 minutes just grinning at the Forest fans whilst goading them with a creativity I can only express awe at.
On the pitch itself Bowler is just about everything creative today. 'If he had an end product...' sighs the lad behind me. I suspect that might get written on Bowler's gravestone. 'Here lies Josh. He was fucking mint to watch, but, oh, if only he'd had an end product...' John-Jules is not exactly Keshi. We'll leave it there for now.
Madine is one of those moods where jumping is beneath him. Maybe his ankle? Jerry is fizzing about as he does but aside from him, we're flat, both metaphorically and literally. The triangles aren't on. Forest press and we go sideways or vertically down the flanks. They're doing better in terms of playing diagonally and they undo us with a raking ball behind Gabriel who gets caught a bit flat footed, their lad races behind him, knocks a cross in and they score with a tap in. One of those horrible easy goals.
At some point Marvin makes possibly the best challenge I've ever seen him do, which is to say, one of the greatest challenges of all time, following his man diagonally into the box, waiting, waiting and then lifting a leg, taking the ball away from him in the air, on the stretch and somehow not laying a touch on him. His timing is unbelievable. To think it's barely a year since he looked a possible liability and now he's captaining the side and looking like an absolute (genuine) Swiss watch of a player.
We do absolutely nothing other than get pissed off at the referee (who is shit) until the very end of the half, a corner, Madine, a proper header, an almighty scramble, groans and oohs, someone has another effort, the ball is hacked away and we're denied. Madine isn't happy about something. I've no idea what as I barely saw any of it having emerged from the concourse by the wrong staircase, got baffled by the randomly closed gates protecting Pool fans from other Pool fans and then had to go back to the concourse, back up another flight of stairs just to get back to the same place but two yards away and walked into the moment with none of the build up or context.
---
It's been a really frustrating half. It's summed up for me by a move on the left where we broke, waited for no reason as John Jules and Garbutt faffed about and then one of them put it out of play trying to pass to the other. We've had no real pattern to our play. I've just realised as I typed that that's the kind of thing people say because they've heard proper football analysts (there's a mental job if ever there was one) say it instead of just saying 'we've been shite.' It's palbably not true. There's always a pattern. Today the pattern has been. Get it. Don't do a lot with it. Give it back to them.
The problem as I see it is that with both Bowler and John Jules you have wide men who essentially struggle a bit with their positioning and whilst Bowler is worth it because he drags players all over the place, John Jules just doesn't suit the role and having two is one to many, especially if one of them isn't on his game.
That means Stewart and Wintle are playing as a two a lot of the time and where Mitchell or Anderson would be comfortable dropping in to make a three, the two wide men today aren't. It's neither Wintle nor Stewart's fault they're not the world's most creative players and it's not John-Jules' fault he really doesn't seem to be a left sided midfielder nor to possess the bloody minded impudence/arrogance of Anderson nor the pace of Mitchell.
It's not working. All the subs please Critch.
---
Obviously, Critch doesn't make all the subs. Either he doesn't just give up on players like a fan would or it takes Mike Garrity ages to find a biro and then write down the subs for the 4th official and we thus physically can't make any until at least an hour in. We're much better early in the second half though. We still concede chances but we make some of our own. Wintle whistles one just past the near post from distance after good work on the right. It's a decent effort. It lifts the crowd. We're here in numbers but the Forest stewards have insisted people sit where their ticket says and that's muted it a bit, plus having Forest fans right up against us and above us making sound of their own seems to have made it harder to get the continuous deafening noise going but with the Mighty attacking us and looking as if they're up for it now, the sound becomes more whole instead of pockets of noise.
A throw. Gabriel winds up but Yates comes short instead and lays it back. It comes to Bowler, who puts it in, it's headed up by a defender, Gabriel is first to it, he sees Yates and nods it into his path and the shirtless sniper buries it. YES! We erupt into raw joy. Jerry celebrates wildly, right in front of us and then we sing deliriously in collective celebration of the idea of drinking with Jerry in the afterlife.
Yates is looking like the Jerry we know and love and it's his pass that splits the defence and sends John-Jules away. At this point, I want readers (hello - that's you!) to understand I write this blog on memory, not off the highlights and thus, when I say that to me, it looks like John Jules can't decide whether to run his man or to shoot and in his panic as he realises his indecision has cost the chance, decides on a third option of throwing himself into the Forest defender, that's the honest impression I got. Cameras may show otherwise and I could be wrong.
Despite my doubt, I implore the ref to give the fucking penalty because I've seen them given for less and who gives a fuck if it was or not but the fucking ref won't give the fucking penalty and sooner rather than later the mood of promise that's been building all half is burst as Forest score again, Lewis Grabban sweeping home from close range after an agonising set of nearly blocks and stops, first from Marvin, then from Grimshaw.
John Jules makes his way off. Mitchell comes on. We look instantly a bit more complete in midfield. We play some very nice short stuff. Mitchell gets in behind on the end of a nice move he's really involved in and curls a cross that just drifts out of play. He comes across the midfield and tucks inside, Garbutt goes outside. He kills one in the box and has run that is ended by a crunching tackle.
As much as we're a bit more creative now, Forest are able to break at will and if Gabriel was at least partially culpable for the goal, he saves at least 3 in the second half as well as belting down the right flank with intent. He's everywhere, cropping up at centre half, full back and right wing and we can't forget his Madine-esque knock-down for the goal. I fucking hate it when people just point out a player makes a mistake that leads to a goal and therefore must have had a bad game. Players always make errors and sometimes they lead to goals. The mistake is still the same mistake, it's not a worse error because it led to a goal, it's just that the opposition played particularly well after it.
---
It's been a really frustrating half. It's summed up for me by a move on the left where we broke, waited for no reason as John Jules and Garbutt faffed about and then one of them put it out of play trying to pass to the other. We've had no real pattern to our play. I've just realised as I typed that that's the kind of thing people say because they've heard proper football analysts (there's a mental job if ever there was one) say it instead of just saying 'we've been shite.' It's palbably not true. There's always a pattern. Today the pattern has been. Get it. Don't do a lot with it. Give it back to them.
The problem as I see it is that with both Bowler and John Jules you have wide men who essentially struggle a bit with their positioning and whilst Bowler is worth it because he drags players all over the place, John Jules just doesn't suit the role and having two is one to many, especially if one of them isn't on his game.
That means Stewart and Wintle are playing as a two a lot of the time and where Mitchell or Anderson would be comfortable dropping in to make a three, the two wide men today aren't. It's neither Wintle nor Stewart's fault they're not the world's most creative players and it's not John-Jules' fault he really doesn't seem to be a left sided midfielder nor to possess the bloody minded impudence/arrogance of Anderson nor the pace of Mitchell.
It's not working. All the subs please Critch.
---
Obviously, Critch doesn't make all the subs. Either he doesn't just give up on players like a fan would or it takes Mike Garrity ages to find a biro and then write down the subs for the 4th official and we thus physically can't make any until at least an hour in. We're much better early in the second half though. We still concede chances but we make some of our own. Wintle whistles one just past the near post from distance after good work on the right. It's a decent effort. It lifts the crowd. We're here in numbers but the Forest stewards have insisted people sit where their ticket says and that's muted it a bit, plus having Forest fans right up against us and above us making sound of their own seems to have made it harder to get the continuous deafening noise going but with the Mighty attacking us and looking as if they're up for it now, the sound becomes more whole instead of pockets of noise.
A throw. Gabriel winds up but Yates comes short instead and lays it back. It comes to Bowler, who puts it in, it's headed up by a defender, Gabriel is first to it, he sees Yates and nods it into his path and the shirtless sniper buries it. YES! We erupt into raw joy. Jerry celebrates wildly, right in front of us and then we sing deliriously in collective celebration of the idea of drinking with Jerry in the afterlife.
Yates is looking like the Jerry we know and love and it's his pass that splits the defence and sends John-Jules away. At this point, I want readers (hello - that's you!) to understand I write this blog on memory, not off the highlights and thus, when I say that to me, it looks like John Jules can't decide whether to run his man or to shoot and in his panic as he realises his indecision has cost the chance, decides on a third option of throwing himself into the Forest defender, that's the honest impression I got. Cameras may show otherwise and I could be wrong.
Despite my doubt, I implore the ref to give the fucking penalty because I've seen them given for less and who gives a fuck if it was or not but the fucking ref won't give the fucking penalty and sooner rather than later the mood of promise that's been building all half is burst as Forest score again, Lewis Grabban sweeping home from close range after an agonising set of nearly blocks and stops, first from Marvin, then from Grimshaw.
John Jules makes his way off. Mitchell comes on. We look instantly a bit more complete in midfield. We play some very nice short stuff. Mitchell gets in behind on the end of a nice move he's really involved in and curls a cross that just drifts out of play. He comes across the midfield and tucks inside, Garbutt goes outside. He kills one in the box and has run that is ended by a crunching tackle.
As much as we're a bit more creative now, Forest are able to break at will and if Gabriel was at least partially culpable for the goal, he saves at least 3 in the second half as well as belting down the right flank with intent. He's everywhere, cropping up at centre half, full back and right wing and we can't forget his Madine-esque knock-down for the goal. I fucking hate it when people just point out a player makes a mistake that leads to a goal and therefore must have had a bad game. Players always make errors and sometimes they lead to goals. The mistake is still the same mistake, it's not a worse error because it led to a goal, it's just that the opposition played particularly well after it.
Kevin Stewart goes off. Guess what? He's injured again. It's selfish as fuck of me to be frustrated with him but I am. When I've calmed down, I reflect that we might be seeing this lad's career falling to bits as he simply can't stay fit for more than an hour at a time. All the work, the endless rehab, the comebacks, the sense that this time it will be different and then the same trudge to the touchline. He never limps off or gets carried off. It's always just a shoulders slumped walk to the bench and what must be the hollow feeling of dismay that his body has let his mind down again. I feel sorry for him. He's a good player. It must be fucking horrible to never be able to hit form and play with constant doubt about yourself.
Jetlagged Kenny comes on and mixes some forward thinking play with some dallying on the edge of the box. Madine goes off and Critch sends on Sonny Carey. It's a cute idea, but it doesn't work. Jerry is knackered, he's running with the bow legged Brett Ormerod gait he gets when he's put a proper shift in and one shattered lad, plus a previously non-league midfielder is not a strike force for the last ten minutes against a team who've defended really well all afternoon. There isn't anyone else though. (assuming Dale isn't really fit yet)
Gabriel flies away on the right and pings a cross in. It strikes a hand. There's a yellow card, but it's clearly outside the box. Keogh and Marvin jostle at the far post. Carey sprints to the near post to receive it, it's short, it's a good idea, but his man sticks to him like glue and the idea ends up looking silly as all Sonny can do is pass it back to the kick taker. Carey is lively with his movement but he's not the powerhouse or pacy striker we need now. I watch him for a while. He's not daft. He goes wide, inside, back, forward, looking for space. In one move, he shows three times for the ball, but peels away three times. finally taking up a fourth position in space but the ball is just a fraction to late and he's given up on it and is looking for the next position so he takes it on his heels and is robbed.
The end of the game is painful. Wintle and Dougall seem stuck just in front of the defence. Madine gone leaves no outball and the energy is just not there to pass and move our way round them. Marvin has the best run forward but even that ends up with us passing it square and then backwards. It's frustrating watching us stick to the principles, even if it's probably hopeless to bang it at the players we have up front and probably the right thing in the long run to insist we keep playing because it will pay off one day, it would be at least fun to chuck Keogh or Marv up front but we don't roll like that.
The whistle goes. There's a surprising degree of mutual respect from some of those most keenly involved in the miming of insults to one another. One forest lad who has been enthusiastically signifying some kind of carnal act with (presumably) the close relatives of the Blackpool fans offers some particularly heartfelt applause but the respect of the Bridgeford end is little in comparison to a point or three and we trudge out, leaving them to raucously appreciate their manager and to receive applause from the winner of the Fonz award for best applauder in football 2021 (Jordan Gabriel)
Jetlagged Kenny comes on and mixes some forward thinking play with some dallying on the edge of the box. Madine goes off and Critch sends on Sonny Carey. It's a cute idea, but it doesn't work. Jerry is knackered, he's running with the bow legged Brett Ormerod gait he gets when he's put a proper shift in and one shattered lad, plus a previously non-league midfielder is not a strike force for the last ten minutes against a team who've defended really well all afternoon. There isn't anyone else though. (assuming Dale isn't really fit yet)
Gabriel flies away on the right and pings a cross in. It strikes a hand. There's a yellow card, but it's clearly outside the box. Keogh and Marvin jostle at the far post. Carey sprints to the near post to receive it, it's short, it's a good idea, but his man sticks to him like glue and the idea ends up looking silly as all Sonny can do is pass it back to the kick taker. Carey is lively with his movement but he's not the powerhouse or pacy striker we need now. I watch him for a while. He's not daft. He goes wide, inside, back, forward, looking for space. In one move, he shows three times for the ball, but peels away three times. finally taking up a fourth position in space but the ball is just a fraction to late and he's given up on it and is looking for the next position so he takes it on his heels and is robbed.
The end of the game is painful. Wintle and Dougall seem stuck just in front of the defence. Madine gone leaves no outball and the energy is just not there to pass and move our way round them. Marvin has the best run forward but even that ends up with us passing it square and then backwards. It's frustrating watching us stick to the principles, even if it's probably hopeless to bang it at the players we have up front and probably the right thing in the long run to insist we keep playing because it will pay off one day, it would be at least fun to chuck Keogh or Marv up front but we don't roll like that.
The whistle goes. There's a surprising degree of mutual respect from some of those most keenly involved in the miming of insults to one another. One forest lad who has been enthusiastically signifying some kind of carnal act with (presumably) the close relatives of the Blackpool fans offers some particularly heartfelt applause but the respect of the Bridgeford end is little in comparison to a point or three and we trudge out, leaving them to raucously appreciate their manager and to receive applause from the winner of the Fonz award for best applauder in football 2021 (Jordan Gabriel)
---
On balance, I thought we lost this game. On another day we could have got a draw but I don't think we were as good as them. They really restricted us and they missed chances in the second half. I still haven't seen our penalty shout back, nor have I worked out what Gaz was angry at in the scramble so we might have been robbed but to me, we struggled to create and we spent long periods under quite a lot of pressure. We mostly defended quite well but we lacked the explosive and instinctive quality we've had in at least some games this year. We looked laboured.
The exceptions were (as ever) Bowler, who was his usual box of tricks, even if some of them ended up in him dropping the cards and Jerry. It's that latter point I want to take away from this game. We're not going to win all our away games and Forest looked had some decent players playing as a unit. They were a championship side and maybe their bad start disguises their quality a bit and makes us more expectant. We weren't completely blown away and we were way off what we can be. The important thing though, is that Yates was making things happen. His touch was back, he played some clever little chips, he ran across the lines, he hunted for space and his movement for the goal was masterful.
The converse to Jerry's re-found verve is the increasingly frustrating John-Jules who needs something to go his way. He's a player I really want to succeed but he's fitful. In some moments, he looks class, in others he looks ropy as hell. He can go charging in one moment and the next shy away. He's capable of silky skill and lead feet in the same move. He reminds me slightly of Kaikai, but whereas even at his most diffident Kaikai evoked memories of previous magic, John-Jules only evokes a vague feeling of a promise that I can't quite put my finger on and some nice passes here and there isn't enough to keep belief alive forever. He's not a wide man, he's fallen apart in front of goal quite a lot so he's not worked as a striker. He might be a number 10 in a 3-5-2, but we've already learned that Critch doesn't do that and in any case, we've got/had other players who could do that. I'm becoming increasingly unsure what he's for, especially with Demi kicking his heels on the bench who has only improved throughout his Pool career and is the most obviously 'Anderson-like' player on the books.
I said Keogh was shite and I was utterly convinced Simms was just a school team player and look at what happened there. In other words, I talk shit and he might come good. He might hit 15 goals this year or he might be this year's Ben Woodburn. Who the fuck knows? Not me.
On balance, I thought we lost this game. On another day we could have got a draw but I don't think we were as good as them. They really restricted us and they missed chances in the second half. I still haven't seen our penalty shout back, nor have I worked out what Gaz was angry at in the scramble so we might have been robbed but to me, we struggled to create and we spent long periods under quite a lot of pressure. We mostly defended quite well but we lacked the explosive and instinctive quality we've had in at least some games this year. We looked laboured.
The exceptions were (as ever) Bowler, who was his usual box of tricks, even if some of them ended up in him dropping the cards and Jerry. It's that latter point I want to take away from this game. We're not going to win all our away games and Forest looked had some decent players playing as a unit. They were a championship side and maybe their bad start disguises their quality a bit and makes us more expectant. We weren't completely blown away and we were way off what we can be. The important thing though, is that Yates was making things happen. His touch was back, he played some clever little chips, he ran across the lines, he hunted for space and his movement for the goal was masterful.
The converse to Jerry's re-found verve is the increasingly frustrating John-Jules who needs something to go his way. He's a player I really want to succeed but he's fitful. In some moments, he looks class, in others he looks ropy as hell. He can go charging in one moment and the next shy away. He's capable of silky skill and lead feet in the same move. He reminds me slightly of Kaikai, but whereas even at his most diffident Kaikai evoked memories of previous magic, John-Jules only evokes a vague feeling of a promise that I can't quite put my finger on and some nice passes here and there isn't enough to keep belief alive forever. He's not a wide man, he's fallen apart in front of goal quite a lot so he's not worked as a striker. He might be a number 10 in a 3-5-2, but we've already learned that Critch doesn't do that and in any case, we've got/had other players who could do that. I'm becoming increasingly unsure what he's for, especially with Demi kicking his heels on the bench who has only improved throughout his Pool career and is the most obviously 'Anderson-like' player on the books.
I said Keogh was shite and I was utterly convinced Simms was just a school team player and look at what happened there. In other words, I talk shit and he might come good. He might hit 15 goals this year or he might be this year's Ben Woodburn. Who the fuck knows? Not me.
We really missed Maxwell. Not because Grimshaw was horrendous, but he's not Maxwell - by that I mean, you could sense the defence just weren't at ease with playing it back to him and we didn't go on the front foot from throws and clearances like we can do. Grimshaw actually played some nice balls out, but it's the pace at which Maxwell can play and his communication that it's simply not fair to expect a kid to be able to replicate. Hopefully he'll grow with games. Maxwell wasn't this Maxwell early in his career either.
Jerry is back though. That's not three points, but it's something. We'll be reet. Can't win every week.
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Jerry is back though. That's not three points, but it's something. We'll be reet. Can't win every week.
You can follow MCLF on Twitter and Facebook or subscribe directly by email on the homepage
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