I've missed two games, one brilliant, one diabolical. That's us at the moment though. It's pointless trying to define what we are, raging about doom or breathlessly predicting promotion dependent on the result. We are an enigma, we're equally cursed and blessed, we are the yin and the yang in one.
Luton today. Other blogs would give you tactical shit, but I'll say I had a next door neigbour once who was from Hull, but used to live in Luton who pronounced it Luuurton. That's insight.
I sort of quite like Luton even though I don't like them. Let me explain. I like things that are a bit shit. I like horrible concrete buildings, I like wasteland. I like photos of the early 1980s in black and white. It therefore follows that I have a certain odd fondness for the likes of Rotherham and Luton. Nice places are a mere facade. Beyond the plate glass skyscrapers of Manchester and London there's millions of people living in a shithole and I like the fact that some places don't really bother with the fancy fake bit. They are what they are. We are what we are. It is what it is. Fuck em. Don't sing about shitholes you prick. Just go home if that's what you want. No one is stopping you.
I also like teams who, fit the category of 'when your mate who supports Man U or whoever asks you what your doing at the weekend and you say 'Going to the football, We've got Luton/Rotherham/Coventry etc' they go 'oh, right' and look into the middle distance because they've got no opinion on the matter at all'. That's good. I don't want some knobhead recycling Gary Carragher or Roy Richards' half arsed views on the matter. The football I want to be part of is raw, grimy, cold and loud. You can stick your TV pundit up your arse. I don't want you to be part of it.
I also really like the fact that their cult hero, probably their most famous player of the post war era, is Mick Harford - a big man who, in the mould of many of my favourite players, combined being somewhat rough looking and physical with being surprisingly good at football. People with missing teeth. That's the sort of thing the game needs more of. I also liked that he managed them and did good things. Romance is good. The sort of miserable prick who says 'Oh, no, the data says that romance and nostalgia is the pathetic refuge of innately stunted proper football men' can go and fuck themselves as far as I'm concerned.
Finally, Luton have a place in my heart simply because the period when they were good coincided with football arriving in my conscious. Contemporary football wisdom (i.e. the sort of home counties broadsheet bell-end called Julian (who will almost always support Spurs or Arsenal plus a quirky non-league team he thinks will give him kudos and character,) that wrote a book about 'How Football Came Home' in the 1990s) says that the late 80s were wank. If you put aside the things that were actually wank like deaths and racism and that, the football was fucking ace. Anyone could win shit and Luton did. Mental. I don't care that Pep's teams 'set a standard' - watching Wimbledon bully Liverpool, Houchen's diving header, Luton lifting the league cup was fun. I miss that hope. We all do. We should set fire to the grounds until they give us a better football. This one where we can't ever win owt is fucking dire. There's more of us than them. Everyone. Revolution. NOW.
So basically. No one wants Luton to go up cos it's 'bad for the brand' and they don't play pretty football. Cos I'm a miserable and contrary cunt, I would really like the Premier League to have an all elbows shithole town team to spoil the image - so all power to them.
Just not today.
----
They start well. It takes us five minutes to wipe the sleep from our eyes from the pre match doze. We get a bit better. We knock it around. We don't shoot. Grant Ward gets a big round of applause when he goes to take a corner. It's good to see him back, even if it's a bit weird to see a player who got injured 14 months ago and the manager didn't want to sign getting picked in the team. He seems a bit overawed by the reception and takes the shortest short corner you can think of.
SHOOOOOOOT. Ward doesn't shoot. We have a few more corners. I watch Gaz. He darts. He moves like the way water swirls back on itself in a river, going one way, checking back, spinning and then racing to the ball as if liquid finding its way through obstacles.
We're doing ok now but then their no 3 falls over. He gets up after treatment. He falls over again. Christianity's own Nathan Jones shows his loving values by going absolutely mental at his injured player and screaming 'stay on the fucking pitch' as the wounded lad tries to haul himself over the touchline. What a class act. That's exactly the shit Jesus was on about - 'And Lo - Jesus did say, maketh the most of any moment ever, even if it's unfair and hurts your own disciple' He comes back on. He goes down again. What the fuck is this all about? He gets substituted finally.
Luton's manic injury shenanigans have taken all our momentum away. They come back into the game. They have a string of corners, Maxwell makes a great stop to an offside header. Patino looks pale and sickly. He's still got a touch to die for but he's reacting to everything a second too late. That's what will happen if you've been vomiting for a week. Jud sticks his head in the way of a rasping drive. That's what he does.
The game hits a lull. Grant Ward has a shot well wide. We clap cos it's something. Marvin plays a mental pass and nearly lets Luton in. He makes up for it with a couple of really good pieces of work, one to cut out a break, reading the situation perfectly and another crunching tackle late in the half to deny a chance from a ball across the box.
It's thin gruel and the whistle is frankly a bit of relief. The most interesting thing I've noticed is their no7 has Josh Bowler socks and is definitely covered in fake tan.
---
I sort of quite like Luton even though I don't like them. Let me explain. I like things that are a bit shit. I like horrible concrete buildings, I like wasteland. I like photos of the early 1980s in black and white. It therefore follows that I have a certain odd fondness for the likes of Rotherham and Luton. Nice places are a mere facade. Beyond the plate glass skyscrapers of Manchester and London there's millions of people living in a shithole and I like the fact that some places don't really bother with the fancy fake bit. They are what they are. We are what we are. It is what it is. Fuck em. Don't sing about shitholes you prick. Just go home if that's what you want. No one is stopping you.
I also like teams who, fit the category of 'when your mate who supports Man U or whoever asks you what your doing at the weekend and you say 'Going to the football, We've got Luton/Rotherham/Coventry etc' they go 'oh, right' and look into the middle distance because they've got no opinion on the matter at all'. That's good. I don't want some knobhead recycling Gary Carragher or Roy Richards' half arsed views on the matter. The football I want to be part of is raw, grimy, cold and loud. You can stick your TV pundit up your arse. I don't want you to be part of it.
I also really like the fact that their cult hero, probably their most famous player of the post war era, is Mick Harford - a big man who, in the mould of many of my favourite players, combined being somewhat rough looking and physical with being surprisingly good at football. People with missing teeth. That's the sort of thing the game needs more of. I also liked that he managed them and did good things. Romance is good. The sort of miserable prick who says 'Oh, no, the data says that romance and nostalgia is the pathetic refuge of innately stunted proper football men' can go and fuck themselves as far as I'm concerned.
Finally, Luton have a place in my heart simply because the period when they were good coincided with football arriving in my conscious. Contemporary football wisdom (i.e. the sort of home counties broadsheet bell-end called Julian (who will almost always support Spurs or Arsenal plus a quirky non-league team he thinks will give him kudos and character,) that wrote a book about 'How Football Came Home' in the 1990s) says that the late 80s were wank. If you put aside the things that were actually wank like deaths and racism and that, the football was fucking ace. Anyone could win shit and Luton did. Mental. I don't care that Pep's teams 'set a standard' - watching Wimbledon bully Liverpool, Houchen's diving header, Luton lifting the league cup was fun. I miss that hope. We all do. We should set fire to the grounds until they give us a better football. This one where we can't ever win owt is fucking dire. There's more of us than them. Everyone. Revolution. NOW.
So basically. No one wants Luton to go up cos it's 'bad for the brand' and they don't play pretty football. Cos I'm a miserable and contrary cunt, I would really like the Premier League to have an all elbows shithole town team to spoil the image - so all power to them.
Just not today.
----
They start well. It takes us five minutes to wipe the sleep from our eyes from the pre match doze. We get a bit better. We knock it around. We don't shoot. Grant Ward gets a big round of applause when he goes to take a corner. It's good to see him back, even if it's a bit weird to see a player who got injured 14 months ago and the manager didn't want to sign getting picked in the team. He seems a bit overawed by the reception and takes the shortest short corner you can think of.
SHOOOOOOOT. Ward doesn't shoot. We have a few more corners. I watch Gaz. He darts. He moves like the way water swirls back on itself in a river, going one way, checking back, spinning and then racing to the ball as if liquid finding its way through obstacles.
We're doing ok now but then their no 3 falls over. He gets up after treatment. He falls over again. Christianity's own Nathan Jones shows his loving values by going absolutely mental at his injured player and screaming 'stay on the fucking pitch' as the wounded lad tries to haul himself over the touchline. What a class act. That's exactly the shit Jesus was on about - 'And Lo - Jesus did say, maketh the most of any moment ever, even if it's unfair and hurts your own disciple' He comes back on. He goes down again. What the fuck is this all about? He gets substituted finally.
Luton's manic injury shenanigans have taken all our momentum away. They come back into the game. They have a string of corners, Maxwell makes a great stop to an offside header. Patino looks pale and sickly. He's still got a touch to die for but he's reacting to everything a second too late. That's what will happen if you've been vomiting for a week. Jud sticks his head in the way of a rasping drive. That's what he does.
The game hits a lull. Grant Ward has a shot well wide. We clap cos it's something. Marvin plays a mental pass and nearly lets Luton in. He makes up for it with a couple of really good pieces of work, one to cut out a break, reading the situation perfectly and another crunching tackle late in the half to deny a chance from a ball across the box.
It's thin gruel and the whistle is frankly a bit of relief. The most interesting thing I've noticed is their no7 has Josh Bowler socks and is definitely covered in fake tan.
---
It's been a rubbish half. I'm quite glad it's 0-0. Luton are very good at what they do and whilst they've not really made much, they've almost completely stifled us and have the air of a dog that might not be growling or snarling at you, but you can see the muscles around its neck and you don't fancy getting too close.
Can we outwit this beast?
---
Keshi! It's good to see him. Once upon a time someone said to me that he reminds them of John Barnes. At his best, that doesn't seem so silly. He's gliding about. He looks balanced. His touch is delicate, his passing crisp. Sickly Patino has gone for a well earned lie down and our no 10 is on and it feels really good to have him back. We need to be better though.
CJ stands it up. All hell breaks loose. Gaz gets a head to it. Yates has a shot that's like a catapult firing, Ward picks up the rebound, a head gets in the way. Keshi brings down the loose ball with silky turn and fires it at the near post. Somehow it doesn't go in.
Again Jud sticks his head in the way of a goal bound effort. It's what he does. He's sat down. He's dazed. The trainer is on. He's done. Jimmy shuffles across and Captain Chaos (as the fella to my left terms him) comes on to play left back.
The reshuffle has no time to bed in. The corner is the kind we don't seem to do, fast, stinging, whipped and one of their lads steals into our confused midst and scores. I thought someone got held as the ball came over but there is no flag, no redemption and just the hollow feeling of inevitability. Luton are one of those teams that once in front are a fucking nightmare to play against.
C'MON POOL!
Keshi! It's good to see him. Once upon a time someone said to me that he reminds them of John Barnes. At his best, that doesn't seem so silly. He's gliding about. He looks balanced. His touch is delicate, his passing crisp. Sickly Patino has gone for a well earned lie down and our no 10 is on and it feels really good to have him back. We need to be better though.
CJ stands it up. All hell breaks loose. Gaz gets a head to it. Yates has a shot that's like a catapult firing, Ward picks up the rebound, a head gets in the way. Keshi brings down the loose ball with silky turn and fires it at the near post. Somehow it doesn't go in.
Again Jud sticks his head in the way of a goal bound effort. It's what he does. He's sat down. He's dazed. The trainer is on. He's done. Jimmy shuffles across and Captain Chaos (as the fella to my left terms him) comes on to play left back.
The reshuffle has no time to bed in. The corner is the kind we don't seem to do, fast, stinging, whipped and one of their lads steals into our confused midst and scores. I thought someone got held as the ball came over but there is no flag, no redemption and just the hollow feeling of inevitability. Luton are one of those teams that once in front are a fucking nightmare to play against.
C'MON POOL!
It's a whole load of stodge. Luton are giving a masterclass in how to ruin a game. I don't resent it. I admire it. Nothing is fucking happening till we win a free kick. Marvin gets to it. MADINE!!! For fucks sake Gaz! It's over the top. Gaz looks broken. I'm a pitch away and the lad looks like he hates football at that moment. A whole game getting smashed into and then one chance comes and it goes over the top.
Ward has done ok. He's not played for 14 months and he's held his own. He's chasing shadows now though and Callum Wright replaces him. He doesn't have a very good game. His contribution is probably best explained by the fact he waft into a challenge that is easily evaded that means Keshi has to race back from somewhere behind Madine to right back and make a tremendous tackle, a truly wonderful slide as the last man that saves our skins and turns the play right round, with us breaking and almost unlocking their defence. As we maraud though, Keshi is wincing and feeling his hamstring and I'm just about done with this injury shit. It's taking the piss now. We might as well just play 5-1-4 with Kenny Dougall on his own because there's no point naming anyone else because they'll just break.
Keshi is limping off. His head is in his shirt. Theo comes on. How is this going to work?
The last ten minutes is just frantic playground stuff. Theo has a couple of mad runs. There's some brilliance in him. I wish he was ours because with patience, he's got the potential to be proper quality in time. Jerry goes mental trying to do it by himself. Breath for fucks' sake Jerry. You are better than spinning round and diving badly on the edge of your own box.
Madine gats whalloped. THAT WAS IN THE BOX!! The ref says it wasn't cos that's what refs do to us. Theo puts it into the stand. Thommo goes on a weird run. Thommo plays a gorgeous ball. Thommo runs the ball out of play for no reason but then drags it back at the last second and passes it to someone who is where he was when he started the run. I get pissed off at square passing from a goal kick. Somewhere they pass it back to the keeper but the ref just shrugs as if that's all fine.
6 minutes. There's a roar. C'MON POOL. 'About time we got a late goal' says someone behind me. Trusay. We'll ignore we got one in the last home game eh?... C'mon.
Pinball. HANDBALL! It's nailed on!!!! Even the extremely reasonable man who sits next to me who is very objective is certain. It's a FUCKING HANDBALL!!!. Everyone has a shot. Just about everyone who plays for us kicks, hacks, heads, the ball towards goal. CJ hits the post. I hate football. I hate it when it's like this. It's just not going to go in.
It doesn't go in. We lose.
---
After the game I'm pissed off. We were shite. It was a shit game. Luton weren't all that and we never really put anything together for any length of time. We made a few chances but all in all we were pretty poor. I give it a few hours and perspective suggests that we did more than that. Luton aren't shite. They're a bit like us last year at our best. Horrible to break down and utterly committed to blocking everything, tracking every run, holding their shape. We were paper thin and yet again, we had a reshaped midfield with Grant fucking Ward as a key player. I love Ward but for fuck's sake, how many different midfields can we play in one season?
This is the problem. The way we play depends on us having a decent midfield and we're missing Bridcutt, Fiorini, Stewart and Carey. Anderson is injured again and Patino was a drained husk. Connelly can't play midfield cos Gabriel is injured and Wright is having to do roles he's not capable of whilst basically leaving Dougall who would arguably be 5th choice if everyone was fit as the midfield. It's all fine saying player X or Y is the problem but the midfield never being settled is so obviously the actual issue and that's not something of Appleton's making.
Meanwhile. I really hope Luton go and do that to Liverpool or someone next year. Nathan Jones is an absolute dickhead but to get out of this league, he's got to be. I kind of like teams who just fuck up football and I can't help that. It's an art form and they defended like warriors. If you don't like it, go and launch petrol bombs at the FA, EFL and EPL because what else are a club like Luton supposed to do to get anywhere in the face of the financial structures?
Nicking our kit isn't right though. Orange cunts.
Ward has done ok. He's not played for 14 months and he's held his own. He's chasing shadows now though and Callum Wright replaces him. He doesn't have a very good game. His contribution is probably best explained by the fact he waft into a challenge that is easily evaded that means Keshi has to race back from somewhere behind Madine to right back and make a tremendous tackle, a truly wonderful slide as the last man that saves our skins and turns the play right round, with us breaking and almost unlocking their defence. As we maraud though, Keshi is wincing and feeling his hamstring and I'm just about done with this injury shit. It's taking the piss now. We might as well just play 5-1-4 with Kenny Dougall on his own because there's no point naming anyone else because they'll just break.
Keshi is limping off. His head is in his shirt. Theo comes on. How is this going to work?
The last ten minutes is just frantic playground stuff. Theo has a couple of mad runs. There's some brilliance in him. I wish he was ours because with patience, he's got the potential to be proper quality in time. Jerry goes mental trying to do it by himself. Breath for fucks' sake Jerry. You are better than spinning round and diving badly on the edge of your own box.
Madine gats whalloped. THAT WAS IN THE BOX!! The ref says it wasn't cos that's what refs do to us. Theo puts it into the stand. Thommo goes on a weird run. Thommo plays a gorgeous ball. Thommo runs the ball out of play for no reason but then drags it back at the last second and passes it to someone who is where he was when he started the run. I get pissed off at square passing from a goal kick. Somewhere they pass it back to the keeper but the ref just shrugs as if that's all fine.
6 minutes. There's a roar. C'MON POOL. 'About time we got a late goal' says someone behind me. Trusay. We'll ignore we got one in the last home game eh?... C'mon.
Pinball. HANDBALL! It's nailed on!!!! Even the extremely reasonable man who sits next to me who is very objective is certain. It's a FUCKING HANDBALL!!!. Everyone has a shot. Just about everyone who plays for us kicks, hacks, heads, the ball towards goal. CJ hits the post. I hate football. I hate it when it's like this. It's just not going to go in.
It doesn't go in. We lose.
---
After the game I'm pissed off. We were shite. It was a shit game. Luton weren't all that and we never really put anything together for any length of time. We made a few chances but all in all we were pretty poor. I give it a few hours and perspective suggests that we did more than that. Luton aren't shite. They're a bit like us last year at our best. Horrible to break down and utterly committed to blocking everything, tracking every run, holding their shape. We were paper thin and yet again, we had a reshaped midfield with Grant fucking Ward as a key player. I love Ward but for fuck's sake, how many different midfields can we play in one season?
This is the problem. The way we play depends on us having a decent midfield and we're missing Bridcutt, Fiorini, Stewart and Carey. Anderson is injured again and Patino was a drained husk. Connelly can't play midfield cos Gabriel is injured and Wright is having to do roles he's not capable of whilst basically leaving Dougall who would arguably be 5th choice if everyone was fit as the midfield. It's all fine saying player X or Y is the problem but the midfield never being settled is so obviously the actual issue and that's not something of Appleton's making.
Meanwhile. I really hope Luton go and do that to Liverpool or someone next year. Nathan Jones is an absolute dickhead but to get out of this league, he's got to be. I kind of like teams who just fuck up football and I can't help that. It's an art form and they defended like warriors. If you don't like it, go and launch petrol bombs at the FA, EFL and EPL because what else are a club like Luton supposed to do to get anywhere in the face of the financial structures?
Nicking our kit isn't right though. Orange cunts.
I'm going to watch Tuesday between my fingers. I hope Tayt Trusty is fit. That's where we are. We need to get behind them. We really, really, really do. It's not good enough just to make noise when it's going our way.
Onward.
Onward.
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