New beginnings... familiar failings: the Mighty vs Stevenage Borough

I don't expect you to care about my memories, but the weather is striking a chord  - This is the precisely same weather as a day from my past. It's about 1983, I'm staying with my grandparents and we go for a walk on the prom at Cleveleys. There is blue sky but the wind is doing its windy business and the promise of warmth is a deception. My grandad wears his sports jacket, complimenting his shirt, grey leather slip ons and nylon slacks, combover alive in the wind. Combovers are normal, ties and jackets are out in force, Ladies with tight perms and sensible dresses, meat and two veg is the staple of the cafes we pass, tea in small white cups, coffee is just coffee and comes from a jar. The English seaside is already long in decline but I'm unaware of any of that. Just the chill of the wind broken by a wall and the momentary warmth of a patch of sunny shelter, salt on my lips and the bristle on the matting of the tiny helter skelter in the tiny fairground that's no longer there. 

Nostalgia is dangerous. Everything changes. It always will do. Let's come back to now. Bloomfield is a magical place. The clouds part as kick off approaches. Changes have happened here too. The pitch, tended with such skill by the departing Paul Flynn looks to shimmer with a chlorophyll glow in the sunshine. I once fell painfully in love with a girl I saw on Manchester Piccadilly train station for a few seconds as I looked out of the train window. I was in love for a long time with her. Falling in love with someone you've never actually met is a bit like the start of the season, nothing can taint the imagined possibilities, nothing can sully the image you've seen - I fall in love again, this time watching the warm up from a distance as Emil Hansson swerves a shot inside the post with languid ease. I hope to stay in love. It's better to feel something than nothing after all. I marvel at the sheer amount of tangerine gloss paint that's been applied to good effect. I don't like the set up of the team with its echo of seasons past and 3 centre backs at home but needs must and in Bruce we must trust.

I wait. Anticipation grows. The teams come out.... We're here, again. Let the game take us where it will. Lets let go of all that we are and become the crowd, the noise, the throng on the hillside gazing down at the battle below. All of that flowery shit. Pick your own image to suit, the game is starting.... I've missed this. 

---

Peacock Farrell makes a good early low save. I think to myself 'that bodes well - what do the Birmingham fans know anyway?' Jordan Brown shanks one wide after a good move and there's the first roll of applause from the reasonably busy stands.

Then, earlier than seems reasonable to hope for, we're reminded of the reason we do this. Honeyman, already looking bright even after a few minutes is stretching for a Coulson flick, it's out of his reach, he goes to ground, he springs up, he steals the balls and he fairly smashes it home, no messing, no second thoughts, just an absolute rocket from close range that essentially burns a hole in the keeper as it goes right through him at the near post and crashes into the net. YESSS! 

Everything is exactly as you'd want it. Blue sky, bowling green pitch, Blackpool on top of things and sweeping aside a club that ,frankly, if we're honest, we shouldn't even be entertaining playing because we have Ballon d'or winners, FA Cup winners, World Cup winners and they're just a ring road and some industrial estates and where even is Stevenage anyway? 

This feeling lasts a little while as Pool look in charge of the game. I should know better than this. We're incredibly good at punishing hubris. As around me, people purr with pre season optimism and I'm wondering whether it will be four or five this afternoon, nothing turns quickly and horribly into something. Horsfall takes a pass, turns and plays it inexplicably across his own goal, where some nippy little forward from Stevenage pounces and makes it look like we have no keeper, such is the ease and accuracy of his finish. 

Fucks sake Pool. That was a goal that had no reason to be but was anyway. We're supposed to be the all-new, mean, lean and defensively solid Blackpool FC - not the same old shambles that it seems we always are. 

We rouse ourselves a little. Ennis looks happy to be here and is, by some distance, our liveliest player over the 90 minutes. He battles hard at the end of a crisp move and puts it over the top. It's worth a round of applause even if it was never going in. Ash Fletcher sums himself up in 3 seconds. He charges through, shows a simply dazzling sleight of foot to the defender who might as well have just vanished, such is Fletcher's brilliance. He's got the easiest pass on earth to set the unmarked Andy Lyons in on goal, all he has to do is roll it forward a few yards and the lad is away - and yet, after such brilliant footwork, he manages to pass the ball with the touch of a building site labourer in his steel toe cap boots trying to kick off a particularly heavy clay soil that has built up around his feet. In short - he knocks it out of play, when pretty much anyone in the ground might have made the pass. 

It's not really a classic but Honeyman is a pleasure to watch. He's sort of like if (the good versions of) Sonny Carey was also (the best version of) Jay Spearing and I'm baffled as to way he's playing for us. He looks far too good. Why is he not in a higher division. He's got lovely technique  he's decisive, he's intelligent and as I hear in front of me "he makes Jerry yates look lazy" such is his workrate. He's silky and he's able to rat the ball out at the same time. Never mind that shit goal we conceded - this lad is the league title in flesh! Stevenage aren't stupid though. He's getting kicked, he's getting tripped and then, after (I think) a corner, he's down in a heap. For fucks sake. Can we not have nice things? 

It seems we can't. We can't have nice refs either. This week's twat dressed in a cheap Matalan cycling outfit is mainly obsessed with the precise location of free kicks and throw-ins and less concerned with actually managing the game. His linesman friend, whose belly is stretching his blue top looks Sunday League and makes some Sunday League calls. Stevenage are perfectly able to disrupt the game at will and likely to get a free kick for their troubles. 

Hang on... He's given a penalty. For what? Eh? 

The ball floated across, we seemed to defend it. No one claimed for anything but then the ref pointed to the spot. I'm baffled. My phone tells me variously that Ihiekwe just scooped it with his hand for no reason and that Ihiekwe was pushed into the ball. I have no idea.  (I watch it back later and  I'm not sure why he's handled it...) The Kop does its level best, a sea of waving arms and a pounding heartbeat of a drum. Peacock Farrell does his best to, guessing right and for a split second there's the ecstatic relief of a save but then the grim realisation hits that he's been beaten and that they're 2-1 ahead. 

--- 

Can we go back to kick off? I liked it when I'd forgotten what it was like to support this football club. 

 ---

Bruce isn't mucking about. It's 442 with Emil Hansson on the left and Coulson out on the right wing. I love the idea of this lad. From the little I've seen of him he's quite obviously a footballer of some talent. Zac Ashworth is on too and Casey at right back. It takes a moment to notice Lyons and Honeyman are gone. That's our best player and our only right back off. Hmmm. 

'Hmmm' becomes 'fuck me, this is a fucking life sentence this shit, why the fuck do I actually bother with it because frankly, my life as a whole was better in the last few months when I wasn't trekking to watch sheer incompetence mixed with fucking cursed luck on my Saturdays and doing something more constructive and rewarding' as Peacock Farrell gives all Birmingham fans something to revel in, slipping an inexplicably poor pass straight to a Stevenage player, one pass, a second pass and Dan Kemp belts into the roof of the net. I have no words. Horsfall was under a bit of pressure, Ihiekwe was jumping with another player but that... I don't do this to lay into players - but he owes us a double save at point blank range for certain. 

There follows a half hour of turgid misery punctuated by bursts of skill from Hansson who looks like a player who, in a fully functioning side, could do some proper damage. He's got the confidence of a player who knows he can beat people and will back himself. He hugs the touchline and wants the ball. Simmo anyone? Ennis runs hard and spins, fights and darts to little reward. Jordan Brown chugs around but we look toothless. Fletcher is having one of those days. Lee Evans is doing an excellent impression of a bloke out for a stroll lobbing balls with one of those dog thrower toys whilst browsing on his phone, not really paying all that much attention to the direction or trajectory of the tennis ball. 

We are, frankly, a bit shit. More than a bit shit. We're rubbish. There's nothing else to say. It's a shit spectacle cos we've got a left back on the right wing who gets blown over by a stiff breeze, a centre forward who can't win a long ball and a midfielder whose radar is not so much misaligned but seemingly reporting things that aren't actually there.  Add to this a referee who allows them to literally clothesline our players and it's all a bit grim

Then hope. Brown, who has done little wrong, has been shuffled to right back. He's played there before and he looks ok in the role. He loops a ball into the channel, the ever willing Ennis makes a burst and his man leaves him, he's in, he's got the kind of finish that is worrying because it looks lie he should score - but he takes it sublimely, faking his intent then putting it in the corner, the keeper totally flat footed as the ground roars into life. He deserved that. He's played hard today and he's kept going. 

Hope is a cruel mistress though. The onslaught never really comes. We loop a few forward, we have a few corners, Stevenage play for time in the corner, on the ground, physio on and all of that. Of course they do. Lee Evans smacks one and for a few milliseconds it seems a magical end, but it's blocked and  the game ends with us not making much out of a corner that we didn't throw the keeper up for because why? I don't know. 

--- 

There's a lot of reasons we can give as to why we didn't play well. Injuries, formation, new squad. There's doubtless merit to those reasons. The manager has been quite open in telling us we're not ready. We palpably weren't today. Maybe that was in the player's minds. I don't know. 

There's no point going through who was poor again. It's evident from what I've already written that some players had subpar performances and that too many of them looked uncomfortable, even in moments where there wasn't any obvious reason to. That speaks to the degree of familiarity they have with each other. I joke about Evans passing to people who weren't there - but then in reality, there literally were people who weren't there and runs not being made that might have previously been. The defence and keeper looked like strangers to each other at times - outside of the goals there were moments of hesitancy, disagreements, surprise at receiving the ball from each other. There was little leadership, no one shouting, clapping, exhorting each other. This is a new team - but also a patched up makeshift side, some of whom are doing jobs they're not suited too (Three right footed players in a back three was horrible) and all of whom played quite a lot of the game in a formation they've not been recruited for or trained for and it showed. 

I found it odd we didn't throw Kouassi into the last 10 minutes. Like him or not, he's got the presence to disrupt and personally, I'd have thrown Knight on and told him 'there's nothing to lose' as Coulson barely made any headway down the flank and seemed to be treated like a fly who could just be swatted away by his fullback - but these are minor details. This is a new side, it's not finished (it needs to be soon!) - it needs to gel and perhaps such a poor, disjointed display will shake out any complacency or habits that need dropping and show Bruce what needs to be worked upon and who makes the cut when they're all fit (it's not some of these if that game shows their best work...)  

We lost today to an absolute classic League 1 side. Organised, making the most of their attributes, working their arses off and winning physical duels. This is this league. We have signings coming in and we're addressing the lack of adventure and competition in attacking roles - but we cannot lose battles and give away shit goals like that, because we could sign fucking Messi twice and still lose to sides who come, all sharp elbows and canny trips and time wasting and who outplay us at the basics by concentrating better than we do and winning their duels. 

It's one game. We'll be reet. 

Onward

You can follow MCLF on facebook, Twitter, Bluesky, Threads and Instagram or use Follow.it to get posts sent to your email If you appreciate the blog and judge it worth 1p or more, then a donation to one of the causes below which help kids and families in Blackpool would be grand.

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Writing about football is possibly a bit pointless in an era when there's the telly and youtube and videos all over the shop. It's not my living this and it's just something I do because I do so there's no problem with reading it and then getting on with your life - If you do want to chuck some money at the cause of some random fella writing shit no one ever asked him too, then Patreon. is a thing.

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Five Steves go to war! - A terrible season preview

Cos, AI exists - It's chaos and time as expressed in oil painting with the theme of Blackpool FC. Obviously.

Are we ready? Shall we look at it objectively?

Fuck that.

All football fans are delusional. You can be all mega realistic and pride yourself on objectivity and detachment but ultimately, if you're spending your days hanging out on social media dedicated to a lower league football team and your Saturdays/midweeks watching said team play football then that's a bit mental. If anyone was truly 'objective' then they'd sack it off and do something where the reward you got equalled the effort you put in. I dunno, needlework or community gardening or cultivating an interesting drug addiction involving strictly controlled doses of hallucinogens, that type of thing.

We're winning this

We're going to win the League, the FA Cup, the League Cup and the Tinpot Cup. Stone Cold FACTS. You can't argue with me because I said 'fact' and I put it in bold, coloured it tangerine and for good measure used CAPITALS. In a post truth world, some CAPITALS or bold is all that's needed to make something concrete. Conviction is reality. We'll win all of them, winning every game 10-0 and Ash Fletcher will break Dixie Dean's record for goals. In the FA Cup final Rodri will break down in tears mid-game and demand to be substituted because he can't keep pace with Albie Morgan and Pep will have one of those creepy post game conversations where he puts his arm round Jimmy Husband and talks to him really intensely like he's the self appointed living saint of football or something and not just a bloke who has always had the best players. 

To be fair, whilst that's definitely going to happen, I've felt that's definitely going to happen more or less every year since about 1991 and most years it doesn't happen. Sometimes the opposite happens but this year it's our year. I can sense it. The previous 34 years are but minor details. 

I seem to be a little hyped up. Perhaps the dosage wasn't quite as strictly controlled as I'd hoped. 

Let's come down from the high and weigh things up a bit in a measured and 'pundity' way. I'm putting on a jacket and shirt with no tie and sitting down behind a desk now. What do I make of the squad? 

"Frankly Clive, it's like a fruit cake with no cherries. It's a house with no wallpaper, It's a song with no lead guitar*" 

*To be quite honest, I'm not a big fan of fret wanking but for the sake of the metaphor, lets run with it

We're winning this too

We look... 'solid' - Solid though is only one 't' away from 'stolid' and and that's where my fears lie this year. We have plenty of 'solid pros' with 'experience' who've got 'good careers' behind them. The business in that respect has been good, excellent even. We've got, to torture the above metaphors* further, the dough, the foundations, the bass and drums of the team and they're really good. What we need is the flavour, the spice, the decoration, the flair, the expression, the elan. The sum of the parts is about the blend. Football is alchemy in that respect. 11 Thierry Henry's wouldn't win games. You need some Steve Boulds. 11 Steve Boulds would be bobbins, you need some Thierry Henry's. 

*actually, I think they're similes but I'm uncertain as to whether a simile is a subset of the umbrella term metaphor in the way right back is a subset of the umbrella term defender. 

We're currently wingless wonders. The worry is, I'm going to have to stop myself mentioning R__ A____ and S____ C____ on a weekly basis because those two provided quite a lot. There was a view amongst some that they would be 'easy to replace' but so far, the task seems more difficult than anticipated as we go into the season with the lesser spotted Tom Bloxham and the currently injured CJ as the other non-option on the wing unless we want to chuck a kid in - something I'm never against, but unlike the last couple of years, when R__ A____ was knocking at the door and the supporters (that's us!) were clamouring for his inclusion, there isn't a screamingly obvious prospect at the gates of the first team. 

This is the first season in ages where we've not got an obviously hyper talented but sometimes feckless player at our disposal. It feels as if we've got lots of 'competitors' but lack the matchwinner. If we go from say, Nya Kirby (how is he not a league footballer any more?) through Sullay Kaikai (praise be) to Josh Bowler (he's more solar power on a cloudy day than mains electricity these days sadly) through Ian ('call me 'Yon') Poveda with his Rolls Royce to Morgan Rogers (fuck me, we had Morgan fucking Rogers and we didn't play him every week!!!) to Karamoko Dembele (he wasn't even feckless ever, what a player) to R__ A____ (I'm not doing a brackets comment for him cos he was only here 3 weeks ago) and add a sprinkling of Keshi, S____, Fonz, the Feendog and probably someone else someone will point out that I've forgotten - then it's clear the makeup of the squad is different than it has been because there's no one who remotely resembles any of them. 

This will be ours as well.

Steve '90s football funhouse' Bruce has been adamant we're going to get the ball wide. He played with two wingers pretty much all last year, even when we didn't obviously have a left winger. He reinvigorated S____ C____ (I'm getting a bit fed up of counting the _ as I write the names of R__ A____ and S____ C____ if I'm honest) by making him into a kind of inside forward/left winger just so we could have two (sort of) wingers but I don't really see anyone with the same attributes to do that again. 

We've got plenty of full backs/wing backs but let's be clear. Full backs on the wing is a shit idea. We had Critchball 2.0 to chisel that into our consciousness and it's a hideous feat of collective forgetting, akin to some kind of Stalin-esque rewriting of history to pretend that 'maybe Coulson and Lyons could be good on the wing?' because no, they won't. They'll try very hard, they'll be 'ok' but nobody in the squad (bar Bloxham perhaps) has that mesmerising ability to pick the ball up and destroy a full back, to cut inside or glide outside, to burrow towards the box or the byline - yes, we have players who might have done that once or twice and might do it once or twice again, but they won't do it every time they get the ball, they won't pose question after question to the defenders they face. They're good players and our first 14 or 15 looks pretty good - but they're not the kind of relentlessly attacking, sometimes not tracking back, at time infuriating but also at times sensational player we lack. We might be able to get away with a generalised 'wide player' on one flank - but not both - it just won't ask the questions, pull defences out of shape. We'll be blunt with a capital B.L.U.N.T. 

Let's weigh it all up. Keepers. Fine, all good. Right backs and left backs - we have some. Centre backs - seems pretty strong. Midfielders, brilliant - we've got more than two! Honeyman seems a really strong signing who may be the player to inject some of the imagination I fear we lack and Brown is exactly what we need in terms of winning the ball back. Strikers, Ennis and Fletcher were a decent pair, Kylian is the best Kylian in world football and could maybe be an interesting option as an agent of chaos late in the game - but we definitely need one more because if Super Ashley or Ennis (again) gets injured, I wouldn't want to rely on Kylian or the non heading Tom Bloxham for weeks and months on end. 

We'll win this too, just to stick two fingers back at the lower leagues as we head off to inevitably winning the World Club Cup in a few years. 

That brings us back to wingers. We need some. We've not even got a Jamie Burns or a Charlie Kirk in reserve. We've only got a one legged CJ and god bless CJ and his confused magic and the enigmatic Bloxham who is increasingly feeling like a brilliant but ever distant memory - if we only had a two legged CJ and the memory of Tom Bloxham at Exeter I'd be writing basically the same article. 

It's Wednesday morning. The game is Saturday. Are we ready? I think in many ways we are - but, like a curry without spice is just a load of cooked vegetables, a lot of solid and dependable players without a few pinches of magic sprinkled on top isn't a recipe for global dominance. Preseason is meaningless, but it's the only evidence we have at this point and from what I've seen, Honeyman can pick a pass, we've got lots of effort and willingness to compete, there's seemingly a focus on moving the ball a bit quicker through midfield but there's not been a great deal of magic beyond some nice awareness and flicks/layoffs from Ash Fletcher. Magic is good. It's what keeps you turning up. 

Yes, it's only Wednesday and the game is Saturday, yes I know, Premier League loans don't happen till later in general (I would be really sad if the Apter money funds those alone to be honest, even if it's kind of the way things are in respect of where young players generally are found these days) but three points on Saturday, three points in August in general are worth exactly the same amount as three points anywhere else in the calendar and we've had two seasons back at this level, two slow starts and two seasons where we've just missed out. We've done a lot of the work early and that has to be acknowledged, we've signed some very good players - but it would be tremendous to see us putting some of the finishing touches to the the (squad) building ahead of the very final deadline because to finish a few points short after a slow start for the third year running would be careless and frustrating in the extreme. 

We've got the money because we never expected to sell R__ A____ and whilst it's prudent, sensible, wise and thoughtful to keep it in our pocket till the time is right. In terms of timing, it has to be said it's also right now that we need players to add what we lack as we're seriously considering going into the season not able to play the formation that we've clearly otherwise coached and recruited for over the last year. 

Lets bring it back now. Have another controlled dose. If it were obvious that we were a division smashing juggernaut with a perfectly balanced squad, it wouldn't be us. It would be Birmingham or Man City or whoever. I'm not going to say 'it would be boring' because I think it would be a lot of fun for the first few years at least - but more to the point, I'm just some bloke who knows next to nothing clattering out words on blog for my own ego and my judgement of football is worth very little. I've written a lot about what we've not got - but there's doubtless more quality and depth to most parts of the team. 

For the first time in months, there is a Saturday to look forward to. There's a host of new players, we've got a manager we trust and there's a first game in anger in the refreshed ground to experience. 

The five Steves vs Stevenage. I can't fucking wait.

10-0 Pool (at least) 

Onward

You can follow MCLF on facebook, Twitter, Bluesky, Threads and Instagram or use Follow.it to get posts sent to your email If you appreciate the blog and judge it worth 1p or more, then a donation to one of the causes below which help kids and families in Blackpool would be grand.

Home-Start Blackpool Food Bank

Writing about football is possibly a bit pointless in an era when there's the telly and youtube and videos all over the shop. It's not my living this and it's just something I do because I do so there's no problem with reading it and then getting on with your life - If you do want to chuck some money at the cause of some random fella writing shit no one ever asked him too, then Patreon. is a thing.

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Cheers Rob!

To begin with, Robbie Apter was merely a rumour. The few who witnessed youth team games spoke in reverential terms of some young kid who was tearing it up.

Then he was a video, filmed from side on, halfway line at youth games, the strange sight of a match on video but without any football backdrop, the green of the pitch blending with the empty fields beyond, no zoom, no multicam, jerky panning. It's not easy to pick up what's going on but you couldn't fail to notice the little lad with the mop of hair picking the ball up, running wide, cutting in and finding an impetuous finish, tinny celebration by peers and coaches, puncturing the silence of the clip.

As he progressed through various loans, the noise grew, the backdrops became less agrarian and more recognisable as football stadia. Bamber Bridge, a tough grown up league to survive in for a player with a school boy physique ticked off and rave reviews received. Then to Chester and  in turn, on to Scunthorpe, both proper clubs., proper grounds, half decent crowds but the latter in freefall, a toxic crisis of a place, a horrible platform for a maverick looking to learn their unconventional trade - but again, end of level boss defeated and XP gained. 

There was now a clamour for him in tangerine. No longer merely a distant idea, he became a real physical option. Pre-season offers glimpses of him. He has had the odd moment in the first team. An injury crisis at Wigan sees a youthful Apter come on and immediately create a goal. 2 years later he plays a part in the lovely Stephen Dobbie inspired swansong (a pleasing coda to an otherwise discordant season) and fleetingly looks the part in the few Championship minutes he gets.

The next season starts, Apter again shows up in preseason. Pool are turgid and lack ideas when the business begins. I travel to Wolves, we lose by 5 but it's worth it for two things, a glorious sunset and a short substitute cameo from Apter where he shows mesmerizing feet and balance that suggests if football doesn't work out, tight rope walking or impersonation of a weeble is an alternative employment option. I travel to Lincoln, we lose by 3 and Neil 'grey polo shirt' Critchley doesn't bring him on. I'm furious at that. We have no creativity so why are we leaving a little magician on the bench?

Apter goes on loan again. It's football league. It's Tranmere, the club he spent his childhood development with. We bring in Karamoko Dembele, who is basically Apter with a stats boost. Dembele is special, but Apter explodes onto the league scene with double figures worth of goals and a bag of assists in the division below us. The videos are higher quality now and it's easy to see the impact he's having - one game at Stockport the highlights looks like County vs Apter, such is his domination of the key moments of Tranmere's play.

I still wonder inow f Apter's extra magic would have been enough to see us over the line in a season where we fell painfully just short of the where we needed to be - we were all but in the play off's except for a horrible lack of footballing imagination - but in Crichley's defence, Apter as a bit part occasional lockpick might have benefited the team, (which actually, thinking about it, in prosecution of him, was what he was their to improve) the loan was probably the right option for the individual - the full season of league football and the success as a result undoubtedly benefited Apter's game. 

Then there was this year. After so many years of him being at arms length, we had the chance to see him close up for an extended period. Coming on the back of Dembele, he had a hard act to follow, stepping into the boots of a player who was, without question, one of the most naturally gifted players I've ever seen in the flesh but that didn't daunt him. Confidence is not something that he lacks. 

The most notable thing about him is his ability in a tight space. It's not so much that he can wriggle out (and he certainly can) - it's his ability to hold the ball and then find an angle for a pass that seems impossible. It's almost an illusionist trick and Apter is spectacularly good at it. 

There's also his desire to shoot. I love players who have a go at the goal - because, whilst yes, pass and move is pleasing to watch, ultimately possession without an end becomes frustrating and soporific. Apter won't always retain the ball but he certainly won't leave you wondering about why players insist on sideways and backwards when there's space to run into or a sight of goal. That tendency to seek individual glory might have been what made Neil 'possession stats' Critchley cautious about using him. It didn't seem to bother Steve Bruce though. 

He runs hot and cold. He's alternately brilliant and invisible. When he's got the run on his full back, he looks Premier League. There's an air of Pat Nevin to him in both his stature and the way he can glide through defences. When he hasn't got the beating of his man, he can look a lot less than this. He plays a lot of games. He keeps going. He gets booted up in the air and crunched. He skips and tricks and leaves players lunging at empty space.  He doesn't lack fight or effort - he's just fundamentally little and can be pushed about - he's got plenty of fight - but it's not always an equal match. He has moments of invisibility and moments of technicolour presence. He's a mercurial winger after all. That's what they do.

He's got superb feet and a velvet touch. He's got a lovely delivery (particularly for a player always playing on his wrong foot) and a real sense of timing of his movement in space when we pick up possession - he's always available. He's a big part of why we're really good on the break. He scores a hat-trick. Our strikers never seem to score hat tricks, but he makes it seem like he's just strolling into the right place and scoring cos he can. Away from home as well. He looks almost sheepish as he celebrates the third. 

He's just half a yard short of pace. James McLean serves as a villain for many, but if we ignore the politics of sectarian divides, there's still the horrific and deliberate tackle that subdues an initially lively Apter away at Wrexham and the sense that, like a few other fullbacks he faces, McLean can use a mixture of intimidation and experience to shepherd Apter - because, despite a nice sharp acceleration, he doesn't have a great top speed - so he can't simply roast them with a punt and run into the space behind them, he has to get up close to beat them. He relies on skill - and that gives him an almost old fashioned feel - he bamboozles defenders with feints and feet in an era where pure pace and muscle are the default currency. 

All of this leaves me wondering if his future might see him come inside. He's so good in a crowd that the open space of the wing seems a waste in some ways. He needs more time though - he's not yet wise enough to be that fulcrum of team, to know when precisely to give and when to go - there's still development to be done - it's just a case of enough football in his legs, enough games running through his memory. 

Then he was gone. My thoughts of a fluid front five running amok in glorious Tangerine, with Carey and Apter wide but just as happy coming into the middle are gone with the swirl of a signature on a set of Charlton cheques. The are no lights as bright as Blackpool's in winter but nonetheless Apter's head is turned by higher wage, higher division and why shouldn't they be, because this is the increasingly stratified landscape of modern football. Charlton only finish a few places higher than us, but a promotion means their income is increased by a significant factor - and we therefore can't compete when they come knocking. 

Like Carey before him, he goes with my best wishes. It was a pleasure to see him play and ultimately a frustration and a sadness that we didn't get to see more of him. I wonder if we left it too long to introduce him but I also wonder if he left too soon. There's a player with certain skills of the highest quality there - but I'm not sure there's yet a player who is good enough to play the role that would best suit his attributes over time and whether learning that at a higher level is the right development - I don't know. Then again, I didn't want him out on loan, so it's maybe hypocrisy to say he should have spent another year at a level lower than football is willing to provide for him. 

I'm also left with a reminder of the transactional nature of modern football. The sense amongst many is that the money is enough to salve the wound left by the one player we've produced in the best part of a decade leaving. It probably is, if you see football as a simple case of 'asset out, asset in' - a bit like horse trading but with a bit more football in between the exchanges.

For me, I'm sad. Not because I think Apter was world class - he was great in his own way, but he wasn't the finished article - but because again, the pleasure of seeing a player develop over time is one that is increasingly denied to all but the most powerful of clubs - watching a player learn to play within the limitations of themselves and maximise their strengths is one of the sub plots that keeps the game entertaining even if the main story isn't going your way. Like so many before him, Apter leaves us with a sense that we didn't get to see the full development of his narrative - sometimes a player leaves because they're palpably too good not to - but with Apter, I've seen unequivocal brilliance but also times it's felt like there's development needed. Carey hit such a vein of consistency in the second half of the season that I suspect it's a case of using him right to get the best of him - whereas Apter seemed to always play the same role and be more dependent on the game state or opposition as to whether he'd have an impact. 

Charlton gain a player who might yet have learning to do, but who can be ignored by an opposition at their peril. We lose one of those players who, every time the ball goes near them, makes you alert, who prompts the possibility of an attack, a shot, a ball slung across the face of goal - to use the cliche, a player who gets you up on your feet.... 'Go on Robbie' - I must have said this to myself hundreds of times last season and for better or worse, he mostly responded with an attempt to do just that. 

I look at us at this point in time and we're lacking in that. I've been awoken by the economic realities of football in 2025 - we're in need of some real attacking potency. CJ and Coulson have their uses and Bloxham has shown serious ability in a few moments - but to me, that isn't anywhere near the quality we need. We've invested quite heavily so far and parts of the team look better stocked - but other parts of the team are without question weaker than they were - the search goes on and sadly, in what we've lost, we've lost a rare level of idiosyncrasy and raw skill - that's not always easy to find - because as we've already stated - physical ability and 'presence' has always been treasured in the English game (and let's be honest, I'm as big a fan of an ox of a target man as anyone) - which means the flimsy players blessed with golden touch and magic feet are that little bit rarer and more special for it. 

Mainly though, I'll remember Apter for the moment in a game early this season just gone where, boxed in by two players, he teased the ball past one, coaxed it down the line, using the spin of the ball to keep it in play, left the second for dead and put the ball across the box. I don't recall if we scored or not. That's beside the point. He'd left his mark with a moment of sublime skill - he lived up, in that moment, to the hype and the potential, the cheeky little scouser leaving full backs with their boot laces tied together and a look of sheer confusion on their faces, forever attacking, forever going for goal - and for those moments, I loved having him on the pitch - because they are the moments we dream of in our playground fantasies. Those childhood dream never leave us - and when a player like Apter appears and weaves a little spell, for a few seconds we're who we were, alone on the grass - with the whole world at our feet and our future ahead of us. 

Good luck Rob.

Onward!

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Writing about football is possibly a bit pointless in an era when there's the telly and youtube and videos all over the shop. It's not my living this and it's just something I do because I do so there's no problem with reading it and then getting on with your life - If you do want to chuck some money at the cause of some random fella writing shit no one ever asked him too, then Patreon. is a thing.

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So far... so good

At this remove, football seems an abstract concept. It's something that happens on DAZN in another part of the world. Observing the slow paced spectacle of multi millionaires sweating a lot whilst also sometimes not really seeming to try very hard, attempting to win a competition that no one can agree whether it matters or not, I feel very distant from the kind of bone chilling, leg crunching blood and thunder football of a mid January League One game.

Midsummer can take on a dreamy feeling. The days seem endless, even in the current gloomy weather. The world though is one giant clockwork certainty. Soon we'll look back on summer from the perspective of autumn and then, in turn winter. The nights will draw in, the temperature will drop, the floodlights will burst into life.

We've definitely turned a page. The chapter entitled Critchball has been reformatted and struck out. A failed attempt to relight a fire, abandoned early last season. Steve Bruce managed to find some kindling in the ashes and get an unsteady flame flickering but it was never a truly convincing blaze. Don't get me wrong, we were grateful for the warmth that the Supreme Steve managed to create - but there was always the sense we needed more fuel.

So, this summer, we've been out into the woods, foraged for wood and from where I stand, it seems we've done a grand job so far. I'm no expert in signing footballers, but shopping falls basically into two categories. You can either go the the supermarket with a neatly formatted list and steadily make your way around, ticking things off as you go- or you can run madly from aisle to aisle filling your basket with what happens to be on offer or takes your fancy.

This season we seem to have plumped for the former approach. It feels as if we've written a metaphorical list on the fridge door and that we've taken that our with us and have returned with at least some of what we need in our bags, rather than a random collection of things we're not sure what to do with. There's a lot to be said for a bargain, but the problem with hoovering up only the offers and reduced items is you end up with a confused and overstocked fridge full of things about to go off and because you haven't properly planned it, you lack other items that would allow you to turn the things you've bought into a meal. I'm not a man of great planning and routine - but shopping is one place where a bit of discipline and forward thinking definitely applies and I'm glad to see that Steve Bruce and David Downes have opted for a steady and focussed trudge around the supermarket of football, rather than a fitful dash

Everyone we've signed falls into the category of "was an important player last season for a club who were us or better" and equally importantly, none of them fall into the all too familiar category of "if he can stay fit/if you can get him fit - there's a player there" with all of them playing regular football at a good level over the last few years.

We seem to be following the plan Bruce and Downes outlined at the mid season event - we're putting our resources towards wages and trying to cultivate a smaller squad of higher quality and reliable players, rather than a larger squad of punts and gambles. Less is more.

Time will tell if that's the right approach but I like it as an idea because for too long, it's felt like we've had players taking up a first team squad place who aren't really threatening the fist team but also blocking an opportunity for a young player or an investment in new talent.

I find it difficult to really assess the signings in depth. I struggle to really evaluate a player until he plays for us. I'm not a pundit, I'm not a scout - I'm just a bloke with a blog he writes for no apparent reason. I just don't watch the opposition or a neutral game in the same way I watch us - but all the signings make sense to me - for whatever that is worth (which is probably not a great deal.)

I'm delighted to get Ennis back (who, of course, I do have an opinion on) as I like his gritty willingness allied with a bit of sharpness and skill. He's not a million miles away from Jerry Yates in his style, a determined irritant to opposition defences and I wonder if we've yet seen the best of him.

Honeyman is an amazing coup - a player with considerable experience at a higher level, who seemed at home in the division above and who possesses both determination and no little skill. He's not the same player as Carey, being less of a dribbler and more of a touch player - but he brings a certain adventure to us that we'll undoubtedly need.

Horsfall is another coup coming from a team who were right up there and being a key player for them. It's evident from his numbers that he's dominant in the air but his passing stats suggest a reasonable quality on the floor as well. Iheikwe comes with good reviews from Wednesday fans I know and has largely played his football in the Championship. I'll freely admit I don't know a lot about the keeper - but he started at River Plate and brings a lot of potential for chants and exotic cult status so I can't not like that.

We've brought in a hell of a lot of experience and (as you might expect from Steve Bruce) the central defence looks potentially outstanding (assuming we keep Casey) and what we've bought, definitely addresses some of the shortcomings - but there's still a lot to do. CJ alone as a left side option doesn't cut the mustard, we've only got one keeper who isn't a nailed on first choice (something Bruce has acknowledged openly) Andy Lyons is an unknown quantity as the sole right back and we don't possess a defensive midfielder (link with Jordan Brown would suggest we're well aware of that long standing deficit)

There are, of course other positions where we might want to upgrade - but for me, I want to see us balance the experience with some more youth. Despite valid critiques of our transfer policy at times, we've done ok in terms of finding younger players and giving them a platform. Yates, Bowler, Joseph and Grimshaw have brought in good money. Carey, Anderson and Ekpiteta potentially *could* have brought decent fees in different circumstances. Casey almost certainly will command a few quid one day, Morgan and Apter might also make a step up on the back of good performances for us.

The one thing about the players we've signed so far, is few of them will attract much at the end of their contracts and I think it's important we stock the cupboards for the next 2 or 3 years and ensure we have the assets developing to fund the next rebuild.

In our own ranks, we have Bondo, Upton and Knight who spring to mind as the players currently with a shot at a future (it seems we'll lose Schluter, a fact that underlines the frustrating and in unequal playing field in youth development) but all of those are far too big a gamble to imagine being the next million pound plus sale - it's no sleight on their abilities at all, but it's a stretch to have any confidence that any of them could could even establish themselves on our bench, let alone prosper, such is the brutal attrition rate of youth players attempting making the step up to the pro game, even at League One level.

Essentially, I think good football teams are generally a blend of abilities and ages - alongside the solidity and experience, you need a few wildcards. You need experience to ground the youth, but you need the youth to energise the experience.

Whilst the job is ongoing, the most important thing about this close season so far, is that the club has acted with a sense of purpose. The stadium will be refreshed and improved when we walk back in to it. Season ticket prices were addressed in the right places - something that goes a long way to restoring a sense that the club values the support and we've recruited thus far, with what feels like a sense of ambition, confidence and purpose. It's hard not to feel some positivity in these circumstances. 

We have, as I've already suggested (and Steve No1 has also acknowledged,) still got plenty to do - and in the remodeling of a team, there is of course, the danger we get it wrong. Football history is littered with preseason excitement yielding disappointing realities There's a possible future where, by November, Bloomfield Road is a frustrated place, bored of watching massive players trundle around smashing it up front and then looking leaden footed as teams pass around us and all the dire warnings from Newcastle fans upon Bruce's appointment come back to haunt us.

 

I don't think that will be the case though. I think the precise reason why Bruce seems to fit us so well is because he knows that he can deliver what we want and that, however you cut it, whilst we're not in a position to buy the league, we're on the bigger end of the teams in this league - When you look at the basic numbers (i.e. how many people pay to watch us play) we really should always have a sporting chance at competing and therefore, he can build a side to play some football, score some goals and express themselves a bit.

 For all of his prior attritional reputation at certain clubs, he's a manager forged in the ethos of Manchester United and in sides who, whilst less technically and tactically complex than their modern counterparts at the top of the pyramid, possessed players of game changing skill and largely, played 'we'll score one more than you' football rather than 'we'll strangle you and stop you having the ball and score one goal' football. To put it another way, our recruitment thus far has been quite focussed on the Pallister and Bruce types - but I can't believe he won't have a few Sharpe, Kanchelskis, Giggs or Cantona types on his shopping list because this is a man who surely knows (and has said multiple times himself) you win games with match winners.

I think Bruce is here for one last dance and is listening very carefully to the music and moving in perfect time with it. I think, whilst he wants solid foundations he wants those to be the basis for something that both he and we enjoy. I think he's a man of remarkable resilience who has had just about everything football and life can throw at him, thrown at him and has emerged, ready to snap off the ends of reporters questions, to put an arm round players and whisper some gently spoken words in their ears, to front up when we're crap and to smile softly and modestly praise the players when we're good. 

I know of at least two of our players from last season who thought Bruce was the best manager they'd worked for. It felt brilliant to be in crowds where we were behind the team, even when it wasn't going very well. It feels as if our owner trusts him too. Perhaps most importantly, pretty much every time he speaks, he exudes a sense that he's enjoying what he's doing and that enthusiasm is unexpectedly infectious.

None of this is any kind of promise of success. Football doesn't work on preseason vibes alone. Nonetheless, none of this resembles the mood of the last 3 pre-seasons which were marred by divisive appointments and characterised by, yes, some signings that worked in the long run, but also, a lot of insipid business in the transfer market and at times some odd choices off the pitch. That's the past - the beauty of the game is the, the book is never ending and new chapters always being written - this one feels as if it's a story of a club where everything is pulling in the same general direction.

For the third and final time, there's still a lot to do. Regardless, the signs so far are encouraging...

Something tells me, I'm into something good.

Onward!

You can follow MCLF on facebook, Twitter, Bluesky, Threads and Instagram or use Follow.it to get posts sent to your email If you appreciate the blog and judge it worth 1p or more, then a donation to one of the causes below which help kids and families in Blackpool would be grand.

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Writing about football is possibly a bit pointless in an era when there's the telly and youtube and videos all over the shop. It's not my living this and it's just something I do because I do so there's no problem with reading it and then getting on with your life - If you do want to chuck some money at the cause of some random fella writing shit no one ever asked him too, then Patreon. is a thing.

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Cheers Sonny!

'A moment of brief joy in a dark season of relentless shit' - Medium - Grass and Knees - Artist: Carey, S (Hull, 26,12,22)

This is a long piece about Sonny Carey. Why? Because it is. Fuck off and listen to Jamie O'Hara wind people up or read some AI generated transfer rumours if you want something else. I'm not making you read it.

You've had the 'trigger warning'  - Lets go. 

I often wonder if I've not properly grown up. I always seem to have a favourite player who I can't see fault with and I will allow no criticism of. It's childish, it's like a teenage girl who elevates their boyband idol to demi-god status. As an adult, I should be capable of objectivity, instead of viewing things in such a one eyed way. Maybe I need to face up the fact I'm 40-something (I've reached the stage where I'm not actually sure without doing the maths) and this kind of pathetic fanboi act is at best sad and at worst, cringeworthy and perhaps even a bit creepy. 

Maybe. 

It would be boring as fuck not to have any heroes. It would be beige just to view football as if I was a coach or a pundit. I'm not. I'm a fan. I'm a kid who played endlessly, who used to smack a ball against a wall on my own when noone was out, who commentated on imaginary games in my head, who wanted and still wants nothing more than to walk out onto a football pitch and soak up the crowd and lose myself in the game. Are we supposed to just forget that and see it all as some kind of hyper serious exercise in something 'very important' 

Fuck that. We're fans, not fucking analysts at a FTSE 100 company. I'll like whoever I like and watch football however I wish. 

The thing about football is, whilst it's about the team, it's also very much about the individuals within that. Football is about points on the board, but it's also about the stories and the characters that win or lose those points.

The team stuff is kind of predictable. Mostly it goes like this 'Owner spends money and manager either spends it well or badly but generally, if the owner spends money and the manager spends it well, then the team who spends the most will usually win out in the end.' The success of teams is essentially (and provably) generally related to their spending.

That's fine. It's always been thus. If that's all there was, it could get boring. Football seen in that way is basically like watching the stock market. The managers invest in commodities, the portfolio rises and falls accordingly.

What keeps us engaged (or what keeps me engaged anyway) beyond that is all the personal dramas. It might be whether a striker can reach a certain goal mark. It might be whether a player can recover from a crippling injury. It might be whether player A or player B wins the shirt, or how they react to being substituted, the way they run, the character they show or whatever else it may be. The players are the point of empathy.

You can't really empathise with a club - you can be a part of it, but you can't imagine yourself as it, because a club is a broad idea, not a human being and a player is like you or me. Human. Ash Fletcher's career being reignited, Owen Dale playing on through tragedy, Joe Nuttall's on pitch semi-breakdown at Rotherham, Richard Keogh screaming into the crowd because he's found the joy in the game again, Jerry Yates in Wetherspoons, the controversy and the redemption arc of Gary Madine, CJ having to be told the crowd are singing his name and a broad grin of disbelief forming as he soaks it up and so on and so forth. Footballers are people, individuals with lives, emotions and thoughts within the abstract construct of a 'club'

This is where Sonny comes in. I recall, clear as day, driving over to Southport (it absolutely hosed it down) and Sonny getting his preseason debut. I didn't know what to expect. I'd never heard of him because we'd signed him from Kings Lynn Town - generally speaking, players we've plucked from non-league haven't been very good. Off the top of my head, I can only really think of Brett Ormerod who was any good (in fact, outstandly so) and David Eyres in my time to balance against all the others who really weren't any good at all. There's your Jarrett Rivers, your Matt Shaws, your Rory Prendergasts, your Doug 'massive head' Tharmes. They turn up, they struggle, they go. 

Sonny that day was immaculate. It was only Southport in a fake game, but instantly I noticed he could control the ball, move it quickly, he moved around the pitch easily and naturally and he didn't look in anyway deferential to the experienced players about him. He didn't stand out beyond them - but he fitted in - for a lad from nowhere, that was unexpected. 

His first season saw him shooting on sight, haring towards goal. He was exciting. He played a bit part that first year, but he put in some good performances. He shone against Boro in the League cup, he ran the game at Reading, giving a ridiculously composed and skillful performance linking the midfield and attack. He came on at Sheffield United and rattled the bar in a game we'd been pinned back against the wall for most of it up to that point. He came into central midfield on New Year's day at Huddersfield and was giving a great account of himself when he broke his foot and wasn't seen again till the next season. 

I don't want to suggest he was perfect. though - on occasion - with the ball in the air and tackles flying in, he resembled the non-league kid he was a few months dropped into a game at an infinitely higher level, lost, baffled, a bit scared even. Like I did when I started my first 'proper job' - red faced, trying my best but not able to do what the other did with ease. Wondering if I was actually a fraud. 

The second season... Lets not eh?. If you could design a season to set back the development of a footballer, it would be that one. A confused mess of a season. A fuck up of a season with injury crises, terrible recruitment on and off the pitch, tactical ideas that swing from one extreme to the other and an increasingly toxic atmosphere. Did Sonny disgrace himself? In my book (which admittedly is, the 'big book of seeing Sonny Carey through tangerine tinted glasses') no, he didn't.

A heroic sending off at Burnley, a disgracefully filthy pass in the 4-2 win against PNE, a glorious kneeslide at Hull away in yet another losing cause and lots and lots and lots of running about with Charlie Patino - as a pair they had technical ability, but with absolutely no steel at all alongside them. Trying their best in what was an increasingly hopeless cause. The absolute essence of this was Wigan away, where the pair of them ran themselves into the ground doing things they weren't fundamentally built to do in a side down to ten men and we lost to a last minute goal by a former player and post match the atmosphere was toxicity defined. Run your legs down to bloody stumps and then get screamed at by angry blokes who've had 8 pints. Football eh? The beautiful game. 

Do I blame either of them for us getting relegated? No, far from it - that's blaming your trousers for your feet getting wet because you don't have a pair of shoes. It's blaming two peasants with air rifles for not being able to stop tanks in an invasion. Blaming the players we did have for not having the players we should have had is unfair and for a 21 year old with very little experience he shoulders a lot of responsibility in that nightmare season. 

Season 3. This is the year he'll break through. Just you wait and see... 

I'm at Fleetwood. Someone says 'fuck off Carey, you cunt, Critchley, get him off, he's fucking shit' - Sonny looking stony faced, trudging towards the tunnel. He doesn't deserve the opprobrium - we've been terrible and Carey hasn't done anything any worse than anyone else but he seems to be 'that player' for some now. 

Second half, he scores twice, two lovely strikes from deep. I'm not a fighter by instinct but I'm launching myself down the terrace and shouting 'fuck off Carey you cunt' and leaping around laughing like a maniac. I think people are looking at me a bit strangely. It's fair enough I guess. This is a season though, whilst he seems to nearly score a lot he doesn't actually score that many. He's rarely let off the leash. He's a cog in the masterplan. The masterplan is everyone who isn't Kaddy keeps the ball and everyone who is Kaddy (that's just Kaddy) will score a goal somehow. 

This season makes me sad. It makes me sad to see how football has chewed up the once twinkly, determined and inventive Critchley and turned him grey, cautious and predictable. It makes me sad to see Sonny, the kid who a few years ago would turn and run, spin on a sixpence and crack a no backlift shot out of nowhere seemingly becoming a run of the mill and forgettable player. Yes, he's a bit better in the tackle, yes, he's bulked up and yes he's more disciplined positionally, and less prone to a stray pass - but where is the joy in him now? 

It makes me sad that many see his fundamental nature as 'safety first' - to me, it seems obvious that's not his actual game - and yet it's how he plays because he does as he's directed. It's his job, it's what he's being told to do. Sonny isn't a player to disregard the instructions. If anything, he's a player who will do exactly what he's asked whether or not it's what he wants to do or what is his strongest role.   

It makes me sad that maybe that's what being a professional footballer is all about - quashing those childish desires to run at the goal and shoot and instead embracing the grown up ideals of ball retention and passing accuracy and keeping shape and all of that. People are getting bored of him. He isn't the fearless wildcard player he seemed to be in that first season and the player we all hoped he would turn into. He's neat, he's tidy, he shows for the ball and moves it on, but there's only very subtle hints of there being anything more. Maybe the flame has gone out?  Maybe he's just Grant Ward but not as good. That's a sad conclusion really. It's sad too when one night, I can't remember the game, Carey is substituted but near me, someone keeps abusing him for the mistakes of others because they haven't noticed that Albie Morgan isn't Sonny Carey. Such is life but such is the position he seems to have lodged in the minds of some of the crowd. 

The whole squad play that season as if 'making a mistake' is the worst thing that could happen. Maybe it's Critchley, maybe it's the season before, maybe it's the tetchy atmosphere that seems to pervade everything, maybe it's the system - but Sonny looks like he's in his shell in a side that struggle as a whole to express themselves. This isn't playground football. It's a boring office job football. It's photocopier code football. It's possession stats as a balance sheet and mundane talks about policy and protocol as motivation football. 

I swear though, the lad has got it still because every now and again, in the game at Fleetwood, int the chaos of the Peterborough 10 men match, he plays a blinder - it always seems to be when the plan has gone out of the window. 

Critchley is gone.

Sonny is injured.

Steve Bruce is here.

I'm not convinced Steve Bruce is the man to ignite the fire under him again. Surely Steve Bruce is a boring and pragmatic man who likes big lads who look like wardrobes and head it a lot. He quickly signs Josh Onomah as if to prove that supposition correct. 

Sonny is back. He scores a couple in the cup. He plays a bit like the Sonny I thought he was. He gets on in a few league games. Away at Wrexham, we're facing an absolute onslaught and he comes on and looks lively. He runs at them, he looks fearless. Nothing actually comes of it, but it's nice to see.

He creeps into the team. He scores one, he scores again. He can't stop shooting, he can't stop bursting forward. The manager has cleared his head. He doesn't look as if he's weighed down with instruction or in mortal fear of losing the ball. He just gets better and better. He scores another brace and amazingly, it feels as if actually, he could and should have had four. He's dribbling like he's never done before, he's half a yard faster, he's leaping for it in midfield and winning headers, he's gritting his teeth and going toe to toe and frankly, I think he's our best player for a sustained period. This is Sonny Carey as I thought he was, but actually, if I'm honest, better. I scream "SONNY FUCKING CAREY" in a manner that is frankly weird and bit aggressive as he hits the net again and around me people must think 'whats up with that guy?' 

I never saw Paul Gascoigne in the flesh. His peak coincided with my childhood years of football obsession though. His fearless and aggressive attacking style defined in my mind what joyful football looks like. It's absurd I know to compare Carey to Gascoigne but for a few months, for a few games, Sonny is a joy because there's just a bit of that about him. There's one thing in his mind and that is, to get free, get up the pitch and have a shot. He does things quickly, he sees a gap, he goes into it. He punishes any kind of space.

I never saw Bobby Charlton either, but there's something about the way Sonny thrives in a kind of inside/outside midfield/wing hybrid role where he is instructed to take it and charge with ball that reminds me of the way I've seen Charlton on video take the ball and carve out a great gouging gash up the middle of the pitch and smash a shot in. There's a simplicity to it. He's not doing three step overs and a passing triangle that goes nowhere. he's not playing square passes any more. He's just finding space and running and having a shot that is usually on target or close and it's glorious to watch because after the last two years of stuttering form he's consistently doing a job and playing a role that he's clearly enjoying. Missing a chance doesn't see his head go down. Losing the ball doesn't seem to phase him.  

If anything, Steve Bruce has done too good a job with him. He's the joint top scorer. He's got the best record of shots per game in the squad. He's a midfielder but he outperforms the strikers. Sonny's greatest attribute is the space he finds. Some call it 'hiding' - but that's the fucking point of him. He finds pockets of space. That doesn't work if he's been tasked with playing in the middle of the meat grinder without anyone winning the ball for him - but Bruce is observant and adaptable and concludes that he can thrive if we make use of that ability. The very attribute (his ability to drift and find pockets of space, a skill which by the physical definition of it is the opposite of 'getting stuck in') that has seen him defined in the heads of some as a 'shirker' is the very attribute that makes him extremely effective in the time Bruce has him.

There's some fucking about with contracts. There's a knee injury. It's clear after a few weeks of noises from the club about deals being offered that Sonny has suitors. Why would he not? The Carey that Bruce has unearthed is fit, he runs miles, he tracks and blocks passing lanes, he scores goals, creates chances, keeps defences honest and he can  pass a ball. He's always done some of that stuff, but he's doing it with impact now. Nathan Jones has a look. The nutcase Welshman like him. He gets him. Simon Sadler might be going for it this year, but we're not a championship side and they are. It's over. Sonny is gone. 

The Sonny that came here looked like a gust of wind might carry him away. He looked like he'd blown over from a kids kickabout, a player full of talent but in need of a good feed and a hot drink. The Sonny that joined Charlton is a man and one who should have self belief in his legs and mind. To be seen and recognised by a man with Steve Bruce's calibre should give him the belief to be the player he is regardless of where he is. 

Lets be fair though, I don't really care what he does for Charlton. Charlton aren't Blackpool. I do care though, what he does for himself. I want him to succeed. I've never met Sonny. Never spoken a word to him. Almost certainly never will - but I feel an odd kind of protectiveness towards him. He isn't Paul Gascoigne, he isn't Bobby Charlton - but he is a footballer I enjoyed watching and a player who isn't the identikit player moulded into a uniform cog in a predictable system. 

The development of footballers is like intense battery farming. They're hothoused and prodded and fed up on protein shakes and weight training till they meet the requirements. They're put through endless, endless endless drills to understand technique and tactics. Ability is part of it, but there's also a sense that it is the most compliant that make it. The ones who consistently follow instructions and subsume themselves to what is becoming an increasingly systemised game. There's an identikit nature to many of them. 

Sonny was an anomaly when he joined us. He'd spent 4 or 5 years of his development from 15 to 20 in non-league. That's like someone going to do a doctorate who hadn't actually done their a-levels in a class of people who had gone to college and university. Football is an unforgiving game and fans are very quick to pounce on the flaws of a player. Your own fans are the harshest judges - the opposition fans don't notice you unless you stink the place out but the home faithful will have you under a microscope and Sonny attracted scrutiny because undeniably, he wasn't the finished article. 

Seeing him apply himself to alien roles and certain situations was literally watching a player learn on the job. At times you could see the cogs turn, at times you could see the self doubt written on his body and in his play. At times he looked uncertain - and why not? This is a player who had been rejected by the game, a player who had spent his formative years, not at Arsenal or Manchester United but at the Isthmian League North's Wroxham FC in part time football. A player who lacked thousands of hours of the kind of practice that comes with being in the professional game. 

We forget footballers are people. We see them as a bunch of statistics and a value, we see them as a position and some attributes. When we signed Sonny, he'd fought his way back from rejection. He'd played through non-league and taken a leap that barely any players manage to pull off, going from where he was to where we were. For every Jamie Vardy, Brett Ormerod, David Eyres or Ian Wright who makes it out of non-league into the game, there's hundreds who get a chance and don't make it stick. Sonny has made it. He's likely now a footballer till his legs give way. He's a championship footballer. He's shown the idea of being 'league 2 at best' or 'too lightweight' or whatever else he was labelled with as a nonsense. 

I sometimes wonder what I could have done with my life. I think we all do. Most human beings have talent for something or other but most of us lack the discipline and belief to actually apply it. When I was much younger, I told myself I'd get round to writing a great novel at some point whilst in actuality mostly smoking weed and drinking cheap cider because writing even a shit novel requires some actual effort. I wrote some stuff when I was about 23. It was half arsed and I did nothing with it. Didn't even show anyone. I gave up at the starting block, never mind any hurdles. Sonny Carey might have given up at many points along the way. Giving up is easy. Excuses come quickly. Giving up is safe. Go home, watch the telly. Be normal. Forget your dreams.  

He didn't.

People vastly underestimate what even the very worst professional footballers do in order to even get to the edge of the game. People resent anyone who isn't perfect. They want them hauled away and replaced by someone better. They demand players are sold, released, shot at the training ground at dawn and then in the next breath demand 'loyalty' from players who don't appreciate their support. Football is a fucking brutal game played out in front of the cruelest crowds. That's what makes it electrifying. 

I couldn't even find the courage to test my own writing in front of no one at all in the comfort of my own home. Sonny came from the outside, left all he knew, put himself through the unforgiving scrutiny of thousands of eyes feasting on his every mistake and watching every moment of self doubt and came through it. How the fuck can I not admire that? 

I loved the lad's mixture of arrogance and fragility. I loved how he played with both the anger of a man and the fear of a kid. I love the incongruity of Steve Bruce being the man to unlock him because it sums up the mental nature of football that a craggy, broken nosed centre back can 'get' a technical player like Carey better than vaunted technical coaches with high minded ethoses. I loved how, in the end, his fundamental style survived the chaos of relegation car crashes, wild swings of style from one season to the next, the misapplication and attempted remouldings of him and all the questions about 'what actually is he?' 

He has answered the question. He's Sonny fucking Carey and he's a Championship footballer. 

I wish it was with us. It's not. Life goes on. They come, they go, we stay and await the next chapter and the new characters. 

Good luck Sonny. Remember who you are. Keep your head up. Attack. Fuck the doubters. It's a playground. Enjoy the thing. It's a game. 

Onward. 

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