We're in a squat little milltown full of squat little milltown houses. There are no mills any more, just industrial estates and the ubiquitous big Asda and Matalan type retail parks.
Has anyone ever been to Blackburn on holiday? What is there in Blackburn? I can't think of any things of note. Even the standards of depressing East Lancashire post industrial blight towns, it seems a bit of a vacuum of things. Preston has a concrete bus station they can't be arsed to update and Burnley has some oddball sculpture on a hill. Bury has a market where you can buy rubber gloves and potatoes, Bolton has a museum with some random Egyptian shit in it and an aquarium even thought it's Bolton and not by the sea or in Egypt. They have, at least made some kind of mark on my memory.
I don't ever remember going to Blackburn for any reason other than to buy a car. In fact, I don't think anyone has ever been to Blackburn for any sort of leisure activity ever. I've never heard anyone say 'Ooh, we had a lovely Saturday in Blackburn, you should go, make a day of it' - I've only ever heard people say things like 'I'm going to the part worn tyre place in Blackburn' or 'I've got a job lot of radiators from a house clearance in Blackburn and I need to pick them up by tuesday so I'm taking Kev's van. £100 cash, but I have to load them myself'
To be honest, I can't think of anything even slightly 'fun' that defines Blackburn other than Blackburn Rovers.
We don't seem to have any great enmity for Blackburn either. They're actually closer to us than Burnley but they're not such a big deal as they are. I don't really know why that is.Probably because Burnley were kind enough to be a bit shit at the same time were shit for ages so we played them more. Maybe. I do feel a certain sense of resentment at being charged £6.25 for a pint of lager like it's London or something. Surely they should be serving warm flat beer for 2 and 6, not hyper fizzy Italian stuff for a million quid. Everywhere is aspirational these days, even Blackburn.
Anyway, enough of 'tRover's - this isn't Radio Lancashire is it?
Richard Keogh has ditched Critch's dodgy roulette wheel and basically picked the team on the basis of who felt right when he gave them a big man hug. The result is a bit weird, but promisingly so because it includes Rob Apter, Jordan Gabriel and what appears to be a back 4. It's a revolution within a revolution. All hail the eyebrowed one. He is change and change never stands still.
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Ewood is sparsely populated but the Pool end (to be strictly accurate... the Pool bit of one end that is mostly closed off) is pretty packed and in good voice. Songs are traded with the home fans whilst not a great deal happens on the pitch. Blackburn's fans give up fairly quickly and we sing alone for a while and then the game falls into a kind of League Cup lull.
Rovers have one of those moves that reminds you they're considerably higher in the pyramid than we are where they seem to pass it forever and we can't get near them. It ends in a low shot that's comfortably wide but it makes them look good and us look a bit leaden footed.
They press some more, we make mistakes. Pennington first and then Finnegan gift them opportunities which thankfully they don't take. Perhaps this isn't the dawn of a new era after all. Maybe we should get a proper manager. Rovers play a slide rule pass and Gueye (who looks every inch a world class footballer if such things could judged purely on physique) nabs in between two men and slams it into the side netting.
We respond with a run from Rob Apter that ends in a tame effort that bobbles through to the keeper. It is very much 'all Blackburn' aside from that and when they split our defence open again and Casey clatters into their foward and clearly upends him, the penalty seemed the inevitable result of the way the game was going. The big athletic no9 puts it on the spot. I visualise Gary Goalie going down to the bottom right hand corner and tipping it wide. Gary Goalie does indeed go that way, but the ball goes down the middle, just to the left a bit and my vision of a heroic feat of Gary Goalkeeping is shattered.
It's going to be tough this.
It's made tougher by Casey going down very shortly afterwards and then, weirdly, Finnegan appearing to suffer exactly the same injury at exactly the same time. Maybe they're so close they can feel each other's pain? Who knows. On comes Husband and Evans, two players we were probably quite keen to give a night off to.
The subs seem to strengthen us a bit. There's a penalty shout at the other end. I'm way too far away to sense anything definitive and I shrug it off. Later someone tells me it looked nailed on on the the telly. Who knows? Apter grows into the game a little, trying some darting runs, first getting a decent cross in that Beesley gets underneath and then scything across the box and smacking one hard and wide. It's a a bit more intent from us.
Rovers continue to look quite competent at football and smash a shot just past our left hand post. We continue to work pretty hard but we don't conjure much at all until Apter again is set free and absolutely belts one the keeper can't hold and Embleton pounces on the loose ball, only to smash it miles over and probably wide as well into the bargain.
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We've been second best but we've kind of grown into the game a little bit. It's a good run out for some of them at least, but it doesn't look like we're getting much more than that so far.
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The second half is more of the same in that we work quite hard, we move the ball steadily but not altogether dangerously and Blackburn although definitely in a game, don't look hugely discomforted by what we're doing.
It takes quite a while before we really come alive. We have to survive a few more efforts from Blackburn, before a decent move that looks initially to have broken down until Evans rescues it by whipping a fizzing ball in that is beaten away, falling to Norburn who, spotting the keeper down, picks a spot from 25 yards and lofts a floating effort that smacks fully against the bar and away.
It's a sign we're still in this.
Blackburn freshen it up and Keogh responds by stirring the pot. The group around me have just decided we want to see the front three set up and Crazy Uncle Richard has the crazy idea of doing exactly that, chucking on attacking players and changing the formation. Neil Critchley isn't dead, he's just pottering around a bungalow in Cheshire trying to keep himself busy by doing the guttering for the third time since Tuesday and checking the creases in the curtains with a spirit level, but if he were, he'd be spinning in his grave. What is this man doing? It's almost as if we're going to try and win the game by risking something! (I know! Weird! I'm not used to this either)
Almost instantly we look more dangerous. The pressing has been decent enough all night but the extra man gives Blackburn less time on the ball and someone else to think about. Robbie Apter takes control, he's doing a kind of darting, shuffling, teasing run - he's not graceful like some wingers are, he's more like a tiny battering ram, there's a kind of momentum to him, the ball closely to his feet, he's not scared to draw the defenders to him and then just dare them to show - it's all quite simple, repeatable, reliable and really quite thrilling - he has such good feet that you know if he gets even a tiny chance, he'll skip through and this time, though the Rover's lad gets his foot to the ball, Apter's force carries him on and away and he's arrowing the perfect near post ball and Beesley is stepping into it and then away, dragging the committed goalkeeper out of the game and sitting him on the floor and now, Beesley has an open goal and now Beesley can't miss and he doesn't!
YESSSS!
What a change and what a moment and what a goal. So simple and yet such a delight to see us score a close range effort, to get in close to the byline, find the right and the striker make the right run and finish so calmly.
There's general pandemonium and what was becoming a slightly sleepy cup tie is now a rousing, life affirming experience.
We're on the front foot now. (I'm never sure exactly what that means, but I think it's this) - we're racing at them, chasing everything. The crowd are right behind, roaring them on.
Rovers with the ball. Suddenly Rover's without the ball as Hayden Coulson appears, like a cannonball and just charges through his man, takes the ball and he's fucking in! He's in... the Pool fans are on their feet already, but everyone tenses, there's a collective intake of breath, this is the chance and YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
He's absolutely buried it, lifting it high into the corner, curving it for good measure, a finish of an absolutely exquisite quality and the players race towards us and we scream into the east Lancashire gloom as the realisation hits. We've come from behind. Away from home. When was the last time we did that? I have no idea but I don't think it was recently.
How long left? Enough time for it to turn to shit. Gary Goalie wisely goes down for some treatment. A cynic would suggest he's just buying that bit of time for us to calm down. I am a cynic. He's fine when he gets up and we kick off again.
Then... the ball is slipped down the right, Apter is tunnelling through a gap, he's emerging into the box, he's shaping to shoot, his shot is swerving, bending from past the far post to inside it and the keeper is forced to make a superb stop. Fuck me. Are we actually good now? This is superb stuff.
That's the last we make it out from under the pressure that Rover's inevitably put on us though. The clock seems to go so slowly at times like this. It's a cliche, but it's nonetheless true. They force corners. They force us into heading away, twice the referee waving play on for challenges in the box looks from the other end like he's pointed to the spot. Rovers force two really good saves from Gary Goalie, one to either side of him in quick succession.
Injury time brings 8 minutes. Maybe the ref was wise to our keeper's efforts to slow things down. How dare he besmirch the good name of Gary Goalie. What sort of a cynical bastard reads a keeper going down as gamesmanship? Twat. More corners, more heading, more not being able to get it clear. Every time we give the ball away, I feel like being sick in my hands. There's an absolutely stunning block from someone at the back. I don't know who it is, Blackburn is one of those grounds where the other end seems a million mile away. There's a weird free kick conceded seemingly for no reason by Jimmy, yet more corners, the keeper is up, there's a countdown on the phone next to me... this is it, the last chance, it's hoofed in, the keeper lurks, we get a touch, we scramble it away and...
...the ref blows the whistle and it's over.
---
That was fucking great.
We showed so much spirit. Keogh comes over, he's a raggedy man with his wild eyes and forever unkempt hair and greying beard. Those wild eyes are warm though and he embraces player after player after player. He turns to the masses. He smiles, he seems almost shy, sheepish perhaps, not quite sure what to do. He puts his arms in the hair, He sort of punches the air, big shovel like hands clenched into fists. It's far from the staged choreography of some other manager's post match celebrations. There's a real joy but a sense of humility about it too. It all feels a bit absurd to him perhaps. He doesn't quite know how to milk this. Perhaps he doesn't want to. He's loving it though. So am I.
We worked really hard tonight. Keogh was again brave and he was rewarded with some brave performances. His subs were the formation I wanted but I was surprised by who he took off and how he left certain attacking players on. He's not predictable in his decisions.
Apter was probably our stand out player tonight from the starting 11 and he will gain so much from the way he stuck at it, on a night where he wasn't initially getting much at all. Jake Beesley ran his legs off and deserved his goal. Lee Evans definitely impacted the game when he came on and gave us that bit more range in midfield in the way we used the ball. Jordan Gabriel was back to being himself, getting forward, getting tackles in and occasionally getting caught out behind and racing back to cover himself. The never 90 minutes will do him the world of good and the full 90 will do Elliot Embleton the same.
All of that is secondary to the elation, the sheer pleasure of a superb atmosphere and an unexpected 'Pool away win.
He's got us scoring. He's got us coming from behind to win, he's without doubt got the players playing for him and he's got the crowd right at his back, roaring him and them on.
Experience? Who needs it?!
It takes quite a while before we really come alive. We have to survive a few more efforts from Blackburn, before a decent move that looks initially to have broken down until Evans rescues it by whipping a fizzing ball in that is beaten away, falling to Norburn who, spotting the keeper down, picks a spot from 25 yards and lofts a floating effort that smacks fully against the bar and away.
It's a sign we're still in this.
Blackburn freshen it up and Keogh responds by stirring the pot. The group around me have just decided we want to see the front three set up and Crazy Uncle Richard has the crazy idea of doing exactly that, chucking on attacking players and changing the formation. Neil Critchley isn't dead, he's just pottering around a bungalow in Cheshire trying to keep himself busy by doing the guttering for the third time since Tuesday and checking the creases in the curtains with a spirit level, but if he were, he'd be spinning in his grave. What is this man doing? It's almost as if we're going to try and win the game by risking something! (I know! Weird! I'm not used to this either)
Almost instantly we look more dangerous. The pressing has been decent enough all night but the extra man gives Blackburn less time on the ball and someone else to think about. Robbie Apter takes control, he's doing a kind of darting, shuffling, teasing run - he's not graceful like some wingers are, he's more like a tiny battering ram, there's a kind of momentum to him, the ball closely to his feet, he's not scared to draw the defenders to him and then just dare them to show - it's all quite simple, repeatable, reliable and really quite thrilling - he has such good feet that you know if he gets even a tiny chance, he'll skip through and this time, though the Rover's lad gets his foot to the ball, Apter's force carries him on and away and he's arrowing the perfect near post ball and Beesley is stepping into it and then away, dragging the committed goalkeeper out of the game and sitting him on the floor and now, Beesley has an open goal and now Beesley can't miss and he doesn't!
YESSSS!
What a change and what a moment and what a goal. So simple and yet such a delight to see us score a close range effort, to get in close to the byline, find the right and the striker make the right run and finish so calmly.
There's general pandemonium and what was becoming a slightly sleepy cup tie is now a rousing, life affirming experience.
We're on the front foot now. (I'm never sure exactly what that means, but I think it's this) - we're racing at them, chasing everything. The crowd are right behind, roaring them on.
Rovers with the ball. Suddenly Rover's without the ball as Hayden Coulson appears, like a cannonball and just charges through his man, takes the ball and he's fucking in! He's in... the Pool fans are on their feet already, but everyone tenses, there's a collective intake of breath, this is the chance and YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
He's absolutely buried it, lifting it high into the corner, curving it for good measure, a finish of an absolutely exquisite quality and the players race towards us and we scream into the east Lancashire gloom as the realisation hits. We've come from behind. Away from home. When was the last time we did that? I have no idea but I don't think it was recently.
How long left? Enough time for it to turn to shit. Gary Goalie wisely goes down for some treatment. A cynic would suggest he's just buying that bit of time for us to calm down. I am a cynic. He's fine when he gets up and we kick off again.
Then... the ball is slipped down the right, Apter is tunnelling through a gap, he's emerging into the box, he's shaping to shoot, his shot is swerving, bending from past the far post to inside it and the keeper is forced to make a superb stop. Fuck me. Are we actually good now? This is superb stuff.
That's the last we make it out from under the pressure that Rover's inevitably put on us though. The clock seems to go so slowly at times like this. It's a cliche, but it's nonetheless true. They force corners. They force us into heading away, twice the referee waving play on for challenges in the box looks from the other end like he's pointed to the spot. Rovers force two really good saves from Gary Goalie, one to either side of him in quick succession.
Injury time brings 8 minutes. Maybe the ref was wise to our keeper's efforts to slow things down. How dare he besmirch the good name of Gary Goalie. What sort of a cynical bastard reads a keeper going down as gamesmanship? Twat. More corners, more heading, more not being able to get it clear. Every time we give the ball away, I feel like being sick in my hands. There's an absolutely stunning block from someone at the back. I don't know who it is, Blackburn is one of those grounds where the other end seems a million mile away. There's a weird free kick conceded seemingly for no reason by Jimmy, yet more corners, the keeper is up, there's a countdown on the phone next to me... this is it, the last chance, it's hoofed in, the keeper lurks, we get a touch, we scramble it away and...
...the ref blows the whistle and it's over.
---
That was fucking great.
We showed so much spirit. Keogh comes over, he's a raggedy man with his wild eyes and forever unkempt hair and greying beard. Those wild eyes are warm though and he embraces player after player after player. He turns to the masses. He smiles, he seems almost shy, sheepish perhaps, not quite sure what to do. He puts his arms in the hair, He sort of punches the air, big shovel like hands clenched into fists. It's far from the staged choreography of some other manager's post match celebrations. There's a real joy but a sense of humility about it too. It all feels a bit absurd to him perhaps. He doesn't quite know how to milk this. Perhaps he doesn't want to. He's loving it though. So am I.
We worked really hard tonight. Keogh was again brave and he was rewarded with some brave performances. His subs were the formation I wanted but I was surprised by who he took off and how he left certain attacking players on. He's not predictable in his decisions.
Apter was probably our stand out player tonight from the starting 11 and he will gain so much from the way he stuck at it, on a night where he wasn't initially getting much at all. Jake Beesley ran his legs off and deserved his goal. Lee Evans definitely impacted the game when he came on and gave us that bit more range in midfield in the way we used the ball. Jordan Gabriel was back to being himself, getting forward, getting tackles in and occasionally getting caught out behind and racing back to cover himself. The never 90 minutes will do him the world of good and the full 90 will do Elliot Embleton the same.
All of that is secondary to the elation, the sheer pleasure of a superb atmosphere and an unexpected 'Pool away win.
He's got us scoring. He's got us coming from behind to win, he's without doubt got the players playing for him and he's got the crowd right at his back, roaring him and them on.
Experience? Who needs it?!
Onward!
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