5 years passes in the blink of an eye. A lifetime is but a grain of sand on the giant beach of infinity.
What a day. And what progress since! Yes, we might be in an identical position with an almost identical points tally as we were in 2019 but back then, we didn't have an upgradable ticket option that allowed entry to various alcohol related lounges for that all important 'somewhere in between corporate and the plebs in the concourse' experience.
To think that some of you are cynical. I for one can't wait for the Tia Maria After Dark liquor Lounge, the Absynthe 'forget we're 0-2 down with hallucinatory halftime spirits' lounge and whatever other excellent opportunities the club seize upon to enhance the matchday experience.
But yeah. 5 years...
There's been Armand, Super Gaz, Keshi, Sullay, Crazy Uncle Richard, electric Josh, King Kenny, and Jerry Yates to name but a few. Jerry flippin' Yates. What a human being. Get him back. Swansea don't like him. Idiots.
We've gone up. We've stayed up. We've gone down. We've floundered, fizzed, fought the odds and fucked up and everything in between. We've conquered. We've folded, we've smashed and grabbed. We've dominated. We've been supine, pathetic. We've been sublime and ridiculous There's been Terry, Larry, Critch. A lot of Critch. So much Critch. Michael Appleton's charismatic charm school, Mad Mick and tune getting TC (was that a dream?) Stephen 'bloody marvellous for 5 minutes but far too much fun to give the job to' Dobbie and then Critch again. Cos we're stuck with him. Forever. Millennia will pass, empires will crumble, the earth will be swallowed by the sun, the sand on the beach of infinity will melt then evaporate but Neil Critchley will be wearing a club polo shirt and saying 'inandoutofpossession'
I've loved every minute of it. Sort of. A new dawn. There's been a once a century, maybe once a millennium surreal global experience. There's been a once in a lifetime weird Wembley day. There's been worship, anger, love and loss. Tangerine smoke. Noise that has resonated deep within and cleansed. Grumbling dissatisfaction "Fucking hell CJ" Breathless joy and disbelief. Kaddy. Bowler vaulting legs. Madine and Yates with that 1-2-3 goal! CJ last minute into the empty Preston net. Fucking hell! CJ!!!
It is what it is. May it always be so.
It's love. Love is painful. Love is beautiful. Love is all we have. Love is beyond human understanding and lives somewhere beyond death and beyond us all. It's beyond quantification and explanation. It is in short supply. It is everywhere. It's within us.
It is Saturday 3pm
We love you Blackpool. We do.
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Pompey seem over excited to be here. We seem a bit underwhelmed by the occasion. They're all about playing up and chiming and we're curiously subdued.
It's what commentators describe as 'attritional.' I can practically hear Critch on the training ground drilling 'shape lads. Never mind that silly stuff. Get back in shape'
Neither side gives an inch. They're dirty. Kaddy gets a booting. Gabriel gets clattered. Critch isn't happy. We're still oddly sleepy in the stands. Kaddy makes a rare misplaced pass. There's a shadow of a groan. He is human. Jimmy is definitely human. He chases one and then goes down. This has been waiting to happen for weeks. Hubby looks knackered. On comes Casey. A back three and no left footer. Hmmm.
Slowly we start to take charge. Beesley is running hard and pulling the defence with him. He has a half chance, but a heavy touch lets their man get a foot in. Byers is all touch and go invention. Quick feet and quick thinking getting us started. Kaddy, a little body swerve, go on, a ball slid for Rhodes who seems to have taken it too far but finds one of those arrowing low back lift finishes and we've all got out heads in our hands as it sneaks just wide... Just...
What happens next I cannot explain. I can only describe what I see. The ball up the middle. Bees is being wrestled. His shirt is pulled, the defender then has him in a headlock. The ball still makes it through to Rhodes who competes for the ball, seems to win it then get tangled up with the defender, the contact sending them both sprawling. The ref blows, I presume for the foul or to take play back for the foul on Bees.
He points towards the south. For FUCKS SAKE ref. What is that? I'm disgusted. I look away. There's a groan of shock. He must have shown a yellow. FUCKING HELL. I look back to the pitch. There's a sense of incredulity. There's a sense of stunned outrage in the stands. You don't get that for a yellow. Rhodes is marching towards the touchline. He can't have sent him off? For that? What the fuck? WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK??? WHAT??? Rhodes is more Gary Golf Pro than Gary Madine. You'd kind of get it if it was the ol' lord and master of skullduggery himself but Rhodes is not of that ilk at all. A straight red? I am absolutely baffled. I keep recounting it for the next 10 minutes. It was us that got fouled. Wasn't it? Twice? I don't know how that happened.
Pompey play it around. They've got a plan. Knock it about until we can't keep up with running after it.
It nearly works straight away Grimmy makes a full length low stop, palming the ball onto the post. We hack it away. We breath again.
---
This is going to be a long second half.
---
What happens is everyone, but mostly Grimmy.
Brilliant fucking sleepy Grimmy. Grimmy on his BMX pulling tricks. A man of few words who answers with a shrug. A man who loves his nan. Grimmy with a quick three skinner knocked up to steady him for the inevitable onslaught. Grimmy rubbing his eyes and yawning.
I fucking love Grimmy.
Grimmy at the near post somehow. I don't know how he got there. He wasn't there and then he was. Thank fuck for Grimmy. He moves through time and space, shifting miles in seconds. He's light itself. He doesn't think much of it. He's just doing what Grimmy does. A gentle eyed ninja. A soft old cat that like to curl up and snooze. Sleeping with one eye open though. No one's fool. An alley cat with a raggedy ear.
Beesley chases it. Beesley sent sprawling. A nasty tackle. OFF OFF OFF. Of course not. Yellow. Kaddy sent flying. A stamp? He was stamped on then? Not in the eyes of the ref. The ref doesn't see such things when they happen to us. Beesley again. He practically turns a cartwheel. Play on. Gabriel is barged in the back. That's not a thing. You get the picture. Critchley has his arms outstretched. He's beyond hopping mad. He's seething.
Every now and again we almost slip their defence. Beesley chases one round the corner and heroically reaches it. Side netting. He's applauded like he's just scored. Coulson charges. Kaddy flickers and tries to slip it through. He should have shot. He's only human. Today at least.
Grimmy throws himself to his left. If earlier he was full length, now he's surely put his shoulder and his finger tips out of their sockets to reach that and turn it onto the post. Unbelievable save. Joseph on. Beesley off to a well deserved chorus of BEEEEEEEES.
The ground is pulsating. The drum incessant drowning out the horrible bell. The noise desperately urging us to keep playing at this heroic tempo. Back in shape. Chase, harry, nick it. Keep it, break, clear. Repeat. Marvin heads it away. Time and time again. Norburn crashes about and breaks up but Pompey collect eventually and then come back at us. Grimmy sprawls and takes a shot. It's a good save, but it looks routine in the context of world class things he's produced. He stays down. Christ almighty fucking god, not Grimmy too. He's buying us time to have a break.
He's up. His kick is huge. He's fine. The ball drops. There's a 200th of a chance for a split second before the keeper snuffs it out and we treat it like a moment of pure gold. COME ON THE POOL. Joseph is stabbed through. He can't shake off his man. We cheer the effort like there's nothing left in the world but this.
Jordan Gabriel whips up the west. The whole ground ignites. CJ is stood on the touchline. He's gone to warm up about twenty minutes ago and now he's just stock still, swaying with the play. He's glued to it. We all are.
They come again. It's hacked away. It's back in, it's hacked away again. It's back again and there's Kaddy, snapping away and winning the tackle and clearing it anywhere like he's pure hod carrying centre half. The team gather round him. He trots off. He's more than magic. He's fucking amazing that boy.
In again. Grimmy punches. Then again. It flashes across. Another punch. C'mon... Ref! What's the point though. He'll probably play till they score... It's put across... It's cleared. That fucking bell rings. It never stops.
There's the whistle...
Thank fuck. The bell finally stops.
--- What more can I say than we were magnificent? This team sometimes hasn't shown this fighting quality. It showed it in bucket loads today. We need to take this application to the teams who aren't anywhere near the top of the league and if we do, we'll wipe the floor with them. We were absolutely cheated by the refereeing today. He's probably chuckling his way back to Preston tonight, but the last laugh is on him, cos Tangerine will always be a fundamentally better colour than fucking 'lilywhite,' and nothing will ever, ever change that.
Onward!
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Great vlog as usual. Strange it was a Knobber ref with Rafferty an ex Knobber rolling around on the deck. EFL will do nothing if we appeal as they are clueless. 10/10 for the lads effort today. UTMP.
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