There's a certain optimism in the air. The Mighty have won an away game, the Mighty have acquitted themselves very well on live TV against a Premier League team, the Mighty are in enviable form at home. The sky is a kind of washed out January blue that holds a hint of warmer days to come.
Charlton Athletic by contrast have little cause for optimism, their main positive is that they are no longer managed by Michael Appleton, a fact bemoaned by one of my neighbours who gets a far away look of of bloodlust as he regales us with a vision of what we've missed out on... 'We'd be at him, they'd be at him... fantastic'
It's not to be. Charlton have Curtis Fleming in the dugout and as far as I know, we've got no collective opinion on him at all. The team is kind of the one you expect Critch to pick. I'm not convinced I'd have picked them all in that order but it is what it is.
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Charlton look quite smart in their all black kits. I imagine if GCHQ have a football team they'd wear a kit like this. The keeper runs over and the mysterious vibe goes up a notch as it appears he's come in disguise, his face mask giving the game a surprising but welcome feel of a masquerade party.
We're on it from the start. There's several 'Pool's this season. At one end of the scale there is 'hopeless and lethargic Pool that bang it aimlessly at the box and look a bit fed up' and at the other is 'clever, aggressive Pool who look like a decent Championship team and go at the other team with invention and intent' and we've clearly got out the right side of the bed today.
Chances start to build up. An early corner. Coulson in on the keeper. Was he cleaned out? An early run from Morgan, Jimmy Husband, leaning back and lashing one across the box that somehow doesn't get a touch. Another corner. Coulson with a scrambling effort that is somehow scuffed away. Nearly... Nearly... Nearly. CJ gets in and slams it across the box. Almost. Not quite.
A corner, Marvin leaps and wins it and the ball goes all across the face of goal like it's taunting us and past the far post, somehow not getting a touch from any of the flailing limbs. A ball across and Rhodes smashing into a defender gets a touch. The keeper grabs it off the line. That was over? No? It looked it!
We're looking really good. Charlton look a bit dizzy, like a bunch of kids who've been playing on a roundabout and for whom the world is now spinning. Simple passes go out of play. Easy moves break down. That's perhaps the legacy of the sad eyed gravedigger. They're absolutely without confidence. We're full of it.
Rhodes charges down the keeper. Perhaps the keeper's vision is impaired by wearing his Venice carnival gear and he slams the ball straight at Rhodes. Here we go. The goal robot sways with the impact, the ball allready heading towards goal. His spatial recognition circuits note that it requires a second touch. His ball dispatch system fires into life and he steadies himself and drives the ball... weakly at the keeper. Rhodes stands there. He can't believe it. We can't believe it. Zorro can't believe it. The goal robot has malfunctioned.
Dembele does a thing that is one of the best things I've ever seen anywhere. He's wide and he's losing a physical challenge. He's controlled the ball poorly and it's heading out of play. Then, it isn't. He's flicked out a boot, caught the ball at the nanosecond before it leaves the pitch and swerved it down the touchline, leaving his man staring at a space where he was, going one way round him as the ball goes the other... This boy is unreal.
Chances start to build up. An early corner. Coulson in on the keeper. Was he cleaned out? An early run from Morgan, Jimmy Husband, leaning back and lashing one across the box that somehow doesn't get a touch. Another corner. Coulson with a scrambling effort that is somehow scuffed away. Nearly... Nearly... Nearly. CJ gets in and slams it across the box. Almost. Not quite.
A corner, Marvin leaps and wins it and the ball goes all across the face of goal like it's taunting us and past the far post, somehow not getting a touch from any of the flailing limbs. A ball across and Rhodes smashing into a defender gets a touch. The keeper grabs it off the line. That was over? No? It looked it!
We're looking really good. Charlton look a bit dizzy, like a bunch of kids who've been playing on a roundabout and for whom the world is now spinning. Simple passes go out of play. Easy moves break down. That's perhaps the legacy of the sad eyed gravedigger. They're absolutely without confidence. We're full of it.
Rhodes charges down the keeper. Perhaps the keeper's vision is impaired by wearing his Venice carnival gear and he slams the ball straight at Rhodes. Here we go. The goal robot sways with the impact, the ball allready heading towards goal. His spatial recognition circuits note that it requires a second touch. His ball dispatch system fires into life and he steadies himself and drives the ball... weakly at the keeper. Rhodes stands there. He can't believe it. We can't believe it. Zorro can't believe it. The goal robot has malfunctioned.
Dembele does a thing that is one of the best things I've ever seen anywhere. He's wide and he's losing a physical challenge. He's controlled the ball poorly and it's heading out of play. Then, it isn't. He's flicked out a boot, caught the ball at the nanosecond before it leaves the pitch and swerved it down the touchline, leaving his man staring at a space where he was, going one way round him as the ball goes the other... This boy is unreal.
Kyle Joseph is also a fine player. This is becoming increasingly evident. He's galloped around showing skill and strength. He's linked, he's flicked, he's danced past defenders and now his taking it on an angle, his cushioned first touch and acceleration is taking him free. He draws the keeper, he lifts it past him and the ball is on it's way in. I'm in full pre-celebration mode, my fists clenched ready to punch the air, breath drawn in to scream acknowledgement of the moment, and just as I'm about to let go, the ball smacks against the post and instead of leaping high, I fall to my knees. How? Did? That? Not? Go? In?
Then, the stuff of nightmares. Charlton score. Husband and Casey seem at odds as to who is going to shut the wide man down. The ball comes in and there it is. For fucks sake Pool.
Hang on though. IT was a nightmare. The linesman is there, his flag waking us from the horror and it's still, somehow, all square.
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We've played really well. It's 0-0. It really shouldn't be. It's not just the chances we've not put away, but the flow of the game has been almost entirely with us. We've nearly scored in multiple different ways.
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Charlton make a change and we replace Rhodes with Lavery (the goal robot having been involved in a nasty far post clash of heads in the first half) but it doesn't appear to make any difference. We're still dominant, we're still not scoring. A ball from the left finds Casey at the far post but his header is rushed and wide.
Kyle Joseph again, another bit of magic and... fucking hell. For fucks sake! This game is becoming like a torture exercise! Joseph has lifted a placed and powerful shot beautifully but he's placed it against the bar. I'm actually kneeling in front of my seat now looking around with my arms outstretched, appealing for someone to explain to me how we've not scored yet. Heads are shaken, or hands are placed on them. Come on Pool!
The atmosphere is good today. The ground feels fuller than perhaps it is. We're playing really well. We just can't score. They're hacking us down. The referee does a comedy run, a luminous bald headed fella with a just for men sculpted beard jogging with high knees, like he's riding an invisible unicycle to retrieve the ball and tell their keeper to get on with it. He doesn't book him. Why? He's quite amenable it seems as he also doesn't book them for twice nearly snapping Kaddy in two. A sketchy ref always adds to the noise though.
Albie Morgan makes things happen. It's his tenacity that won't allow Charlton to get away with dallying at the back. All day he's carried the ball well, been neat and tidy with his passing and prompted our best work, but now he's snarling into a tackle and then poking the ball onto Kaddy. Dembele has the acceleration of an illegally tweaked electric scooter and he motors free, scrambles the keepers mind by faking to go for one corner then slashes it brutally into the other.
Hang on though. IT was a nightmare. The linesman is there, his flag waking us from the horror and it's still, somehow, all square.
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We've played really well. It's 0-0. It really shouldn't be. It's not just the chances we've not put away, but the flow of the game has been almost entirely with us. We've nearly scored in multiple different ways.
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Charlton make a change and we replace Rhodes with Lavery (the goal robot having been involved in a nasty far post clash of heads in the first half) but it doesn't appear to make any difference. We're still dominant, we're still not scoring. A ball from the left finds Casey at the far post but his header is rushed and wide.
Kyle Joseph again, another bit of magic and... fucking hell. For fucks sake! This game is becoming like a torture exercise! Joseph has lifted a placed and powerful shot beautifully but he's placed it against the bar. I'm actually kneeling in front of my seat now looking around with my arms outstretched, appealing for someone to explain to me how we've not scored yet. Heads are shaken, or hands are placed on them. Come on Pool!
The atmosphere is good today. The ground feels fuller than perhaps it is. We're playing really well. We just can't score. They're hacking us down. The referee does a comedy run, a luminous bald headed fella with a just for men sculpted beard jogging with high knees, like he's riding an invisible unicycle to retrieve the ball and tell their keeper to get on with it. He doesn't book him. Why? He's quite amenable it seems as he also doesn't book them for twice nearly snapping Kaddy in two. A sketchy ref always adds to the noise though.
Albie Morgan makes things happen. It's his tenacity that won't allow Charlton to get away with dallying at the back. All day he's carried the ball well, been neat and tidy with his passing and prompted our best work, but now he's snarling into a tackle and then poking the ball onto Kaddy. Dembele has the acceleration of an illegally tweaked electric scooter and he motors free, scrambles the keepers mind by faking to go for one corner then slashes it brutally into the other.
A dam bursts and the relief pours from the stands. It was, in the end, an emphatic goal that broke the deadlock. It was more than well deserved. YESSSS!
The noise goes up a notch. The songbook is revelled in and collectively, we begin to dream. We're finally playing consistently well, we're enjoying watching the team, it's all coming together at last. Charlton have a week shot that Grimmy pats down dismissively. We've played so well, I've barely noticed we've got a goal keeper. I've been more than a bit down on Critchball at times this year, but then perhaps all the shape work and stubborness is worth it, because today, we've looked really good, we've played with a confidence and a movement that will trouble anyone. The misses were freaks. Play this again, it would be 4-0 by now. A play off berth is inevitable. In fact, we've got a bunch of teams higher up to play. You never know. We might still be capable of better. We're hammering them. Marvin is up for a corner, he causes a bit of mayhem and Lavery nips in with his head... It's inches wide. We'll get another, maybe 2. Possibly 3.
Nothing. Can. Go. Wrong.
The noise goes up a notch. The songbook is revelled in and collectively, we begin to dream. We're finally playing consistently well, we're enjoying watching the team, it's all coming together at last. Charlton have a week shot that Grimmy pats down dismissively. We've played so well, I've barely noticed we've got a goal keeper. I've been more than a bit down on Critchball at times this year, but then perhaps all the shape work and stubborness is worth it, because today, we've looked really good, we've played with a confidence and a movement that will trouble anyone. The misses were freaks. Play this again, it would be 4-0 by now. A play off berth is inevitable. In fact, we've got a bunch of teams higher up to play. You never know. We might still be capable of better. We're hammering them. Marvin is up for a corner, he causes a bit of mayhem and Lavery nips in with his head... It's inches wide. We'll get another, maybe 2. Possibly 3.
Nothing. Can. Go. Wrong.
They clip it forward. Alfie May. CJ is wrong side but he gets tight. CJ stays tight. May isn't phased. He rolls CJ like a rizla and blindly hits the ball into an area. Marvin legs instinctively goes to block. 99 times that ball cannons away. This 1 time it bounces, skips up, hits Marvin's leg at the perfect angle to richochet into the bottom corner.
Silence.
I actually can't believe it.
C'mon Pool. C'mon.
We've given a lot today. We've played well. We don't deserve this. We are looking leggy. Charlton are buoyant now. There's a football team lurking under the shambles we've seen for the past 68 minutes. Suddenly they look more likely than us.
Our midfield dominance has faded. Why isn't Critch freshening this up? Hamilton hasn't had an attacking impact for ages. Kaddy now looks peripheral. Norburn and Morgan aren't snapping into it like they were. Finally Gabriel comes on. For Coulson? Why? I don't get that. Virtue (whose combination of forward thinking and aggression I think we really need) warms up but then doesn't come on for about 10 minutes. Charlton break on us after some really dicey play. Marvin chases back and makes an outstanding challenge in the box. Charlton fizz one across the goal line. Alfie May takes one down, spins and fortunately gets under it and I'm really not enjoying this.
There's comically little injury time given the amount of sluggishness from Charlton at every set piece and the number of stoppages for their fouls. It takes us till 91 minutes to try chucking Marvin up front.
Silence.
I actually can't believe it.
C'mon Pool. C'mon.
We've given a lot today. We've played well. We don't deserve this. We are looking leggy. Charlton are buoyant now. There's a football team lurking under the shambles we've seen for the past 68 minutes. Suddenly they look more likely than us.
Our midfield dominance has faded. Why isn't Critch freshening this up? Hamilton hasn't had an attacking impact for ages. Kaddy now looks peripheral. Norburn and Morgan aren't snapping into it like they were. Finally Gabriel comes on. For Coulson? Why? I don't get that. Virtue (whose combination of forward thinking and aggression I think we really need) warms up but then doesn't come on for about 10 minutes. Charlton break on us after some really dicey play. Marvin chases back and makes an outstanding challenge in the box. Charlton fizz one across the goal line. Alfie May takes one down, spins and fortunately gets under it and I'm really not enjoying this.
There's comically little injury time given the amount of sluggishness from Charlton at every set piece and the number of stoppages for their fouls. It takes us till 91 minutes to try chucking Marvin up front.
The whistle goes.
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That game was like being at a great party where a power cut turned out the lights and stopped the music. We all shuffle out a bit shell shocked. Charlton fans get a bit lairy. I can't be arsed even looking at them. It feels a bit like reading a great book and then finding the last few pages have been ripped out. I can't quite figure out why we didn't refresh the players on the pitch and have a good go at a side we'd dominated for 68 minutes when we conceded. I can't help but wonder if having a player like Dale or Apter on the bench might have been the second attacking wind we clearly needed.
Today, though, is not why the playoff are still frustratingly far away. Today is not why we're seeing the number of games tick down and the points we need per match slowly tick up. Today is not why we're somehow behind Stevenage Borough. Stevenage tho. Stevenage. We played really well today for the most part. Things conspired against us. The universe was not kind. The universe was distinctly unkind.
We need to play this well again. Then again and then keep playing this well until there are no more games to play.
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That game was like being at a great party where a power cut turned out the lights and stopped the music. We all shuffle out a bit shell shocked. Charlton fans get a bit lairy. I can't be arsed even looking at them. It feels a bit like reading a great book and then finding the last few pages have been ripped out. I can't quite figure out why we didn't refresh the players on the pitch and have a good go at a side we'd dominated for 68 minutes when we conceded. I can't help but wonder if having a player like Dale or Apter on the bench might have been the second attacking wind we clearly needed.
Today, though, is not why the playoff are still frustratingly far away. Today is not why we're seeing the number of games tick down and the points we need per match slowly tick up. Today is not why we're somehow behind Stevenage Borough. Stevenage tho. Stevenage. We played really well today for the most part. Things conspired against us. The universe was not kind. The universe was distinctly unkind.
We need to play this well again. Then again and then keep playing this well until there are no more games to play.
There's very little margin for error. There's no room for fear.
Onwards
Onwards
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