Seasons come and seasons go. Today, it feels like the first spring weekend, the sky blue and the sun giving a little warmth. As ever, I feel optimistic at the turn of the page from bleak midwinter to the promise of golden days to come. How, ironic then, that football gives us the slamming shut of the season, the closing of the door on any hope of bettering ourselves.
Before the game, thousands mill in the tight terraced streets around the ground. Stockport is a weird blend of old Lancashire and new Cheshire style money. It's half Burnley, half Alderley Edge. I see both a kid on a stolen electric bike being chased by the police and several hipsters dressed as if they've come alive from the pages of a 1980s knitwear catalogue, all half mast trousers, patterned clashing jumpers and moustaches. Victoriana and glass high rises sit side by side.The main stand looks so small and old fashioned, it's both a wonder it still stands and leaves you questioning how all these people will actually get into the ground. Surely they can't fit inside such a small set of stands?
The Railway End is a homage to lower league away ends of the past. There used to be loads of these but I can't think of very many now. The route to it has to be one of the most labyrinthian in the world game, an alley running at a bizarre oblique angle, starting miles away from the ground and ending with a set of steps followed by some confusingly placed wooden fences hiding the terrace itself from access. Once through though, it's a dream - I've not been as close to the pitch in years and looking out at the home stands, it feels like being in a sketch that represents the quintessential idea of an English football stadium. Four mismatched stands, floodlights in the corner - It's a bit like being in one of those generic made up lower league grounds from the FIFA games called stuff like 'Hornbeam Lane' - I've been here before, but not, I think, since the 1990s - I overhear a first time visitor remark 'Fucking hell, this is fucking non-league as fucking fuck this' which eloquently sums it up.
Before the game, thousands mill in the tight terraced streets around the ground. Stockport is a weird blend of old Lancashire and new Cheshire style money. It's half Burnley, half Alderley Edge. I see both a kid on a stolen electric bike being chased by the police and several hipsters dressed as if they've come alive from the pages of a 1980s knitwear catalogue, all half mast trousers, patterned clashing jumpers and moustaches. Victoriana and glass high rises sit side by side.The main stand looks so small and old fashioned, it's both a wonder it still stands and leaves you questioning how all these people will actually get into the ground. Surely they can't fit inside such a small set of stands?
The Railway End is a homage to lower league away ends of the past. There used to be loads of these but I can't think of very many now. The route to it has to be one of the most labyrinthian in the world game, an alley running at a bizarre oblique angle, starting miles away from the ground and ending with a set of steps followed by some confusingly placed wooden fences hiding the terrace itself from access. Once through though, it's a dream - I've not been as close to the pitch in years and looking out at the home stands, it feels like being in a sketch that represents the quintessential idea of an English football stadium. Four mismatched stands, floodlights in the corner - It's a bit like being in one of those generic made up lower league grounds from the FIFA games called stuff like 'Hornbeam Lane' - I've been here before, but not, I think, since the 1990s - I overhear a first time visitor remark 'Fucking hell, this is fucking non-league as fucking fuck this' which eloquently sums it up.
---
As the game unfolds, my proximity to the pitch means it's harder to read play than normal - but easier to see the individual moments and the player's actions.
As the game unfolds, my proximity to the pitch means it's harder to read play than normal - but easier to see the individual moments and the player's actions.
We start brightly and score remarkably quickly. The goal, from my angle looks two dimensional. Morgan (who is our best player today) chucks a gorgeous ball down the line, Ash Fletcher is on it. It goes up in the air and down again and is in the goal. Cue delight in the open air and general optimism.
We're in control for most of the first half. Carey has some lightning breaks and is scythed down each time, we generally stroke it about well and retain possession nicely. At some point, we almost recreate the Ennis goal from last week, with super Ashley Fletcher (there ain't nobody better) spinning and putting a back heel off the base of the post from another cracking ball in by Morgan.
Planes keep landing behind the home end. There's something about the way the all seem to come in on the same angle and follow exactly the same path that makes it feels as if there's a giant screen in the sky playing a background loop. Every five minutes, the same sequence. The sun is low in the sky and hands have to be held up to render the play beyond the box in front of us visible. Stockport fans are subdued, only really rousing themselves late in the half when they create a few chances - Tyer pushes one away sharply from a close range effort and their big number 9 tries an audacious lob, that he does well to back pedal and tip over when the ball seemed for a moment to have beaten him.
---
Half time. Sunshine and open air. A stray football being knocked about in the crowd. 'It doesn't take much to keep us happy' I say. Every touch cheered. The ball bounces to the front. A kid picks it up, the crowd gives it a build up, the kid chucks it back and a huge cheer. Repeat. The ball goes up high, a lad walking down the front cotrols it. Skill. An even bigger cheer. This is as close to a definition of harmless fun as you could possibly get.
The stewards. Some of them look more like the kind of characters you'd expect to find in the FSB or like shit B+M bargains James Bond baddy henchmen. One guy has such dark rings around his eyes that it looks like he's been up for the last week having a nervous breakdown. It all feels very 'nightclub doormen on a bit of extra cash to do the football who've had a little something to keep them sharp and who are feeling a bit twitchy.' The lad from before that trapped the ball is being wrestled with. Pool fans are stepping in. I go across and join - a stand off emerges. There's a 5 minute impasse with Pool fans as a human wall and the stewards realising they've got a situation. I ask one - 'what possible harm has that lad caused to anyone? Why are you chucking him out?' - he replies 'we need to get the ball?' - I asked 'why do you have to chuck him out to get the ball' and he just turns away and refuses to respond any further. One particularly wired looking steward is pushing himself through, as if determined to have a ruck, eyes bulging and teeth gritted like a banned dog straining on a tight leash. Finally, some kind of compromise is struck and we're all allowed to stay in the ground, and watch the game we've paid £30 for though it's evident that having fun is not allowed and will be punished by a right good manhandling.
Professional Football. Treating fans with respect since 1888
(I don't get caught in the chaos at the end. It's pretty clear from half time though, that this isn't a well thought through disciplined operation.)
---
The sun has gone in. It seems as if we've left our footballing ability in the changing room. As soon as the second half starts, Stockport look better. They've rejigged their midfield and we can't cope. We do manage a break, but we can't make it count and they go up the other end and score one of those fucking infuriating goals where no one gets near anyone and it's just a cross and an unchallenged tap in. The sun comes out again.
Hmm.
The mood turns. Suddenly, what was a very supportive crowd is seeing all the flaws we overlooked. CJ in the first half was cheered like a kid we all wanted to do well at sports day when he won a header or made a tackle. Now, the charity extended to him has gone as he struggles on the right. Husband's turn and lurch backward when they try a diagonal in behind looks more laboured than ever. Super Ashley Fletcher has just about disappeared. Evans looks heavy footed and out of ideas, a creative player with cement boots on.
They're at us and dominant. Curiously, Bruce, normally so decisive delays changes for what seems an age. Ideas pop up from those around me. 'Get Beesley on, Fletcher's done' 'We need Gabriel, more fight on the right' 'Go to a back 4' 'Push Offiah in the midfield and get some bit in there' - there's merit to all of them and I can't see why we're waiting to choose to do one - we can't get hold of the ball and when we do, we can't keep it. We do fashion a chance, Coulson cutting inside with a precise far post ball and Ennis, twisting, gets a decent contact but the keeper makes a good save.
Finally we change, the Rapter and Sivera join with us going to a kind of 451 with clear instructions to play it on the ground. It works up to a point as we have briefly, a bit more control. Another chance, Ennis onto a long ball, rolling it back, Carey dives in and squares it to Morgan, Morgan from outside of the D lofts another beautiful pass and Ennis is on it, but whilst it's a firm header, he doesn't really make the keeper work too hard to keep it out Ennis again, but with a different meaning.
A point would probably have been a fair shout all in all. County dominate the second half, but they looked poor in the first. It's not to be as finally their dominance shows. They've not created endless chances, but they've controlled most of the play and the lad who scores their first gets in front of his man at the far post and squeezes a perfect header down and just inside the goal frame. Fucking typical.
We send on Bees. Nothing happens.
---
I hate to sound like a broken record but yet again, this game illustrated our lack of a dominant midfielder. Evans is a good player without doubt, but he isn't the defensive shield when we're up against it. I've written multiple times about rating Carey no matter what others may think, but he isn't a defensive shield. Morgan was sublime at points today and is probably our most all-round midfielder, but he's absolutely not a defensive shield. I don't have any problem with any of them. I rate them all in different ways - They're all we have. Onomah is surely by now a failed experiment as he's played about 30 seconds since he signed up for another 6 months and Ryan Finnegan is harder to locate than Lord Lucan. We're playing all of the midfield every week in every circumstance. That's not a recipe for a promotion and I don't understand why, given central midfielder is the hardest running, most critical position in a football team why we don't have another one we can use whose primary ability is breaking up play and winning possession. There we go, I've said it again.
What 532 today reminded me of was of last season's weakness. CJ is not a wing back is not a wing back is not a wing back. He's ok when we're on top and can attack, but when we're pinned in, he's simply not technically able to play out and contribute meaningfully to playing out. That's not so much of a concern when he's in winger mode but in full back mode, it's painful. Bruce chose to ditch the away back 4 - fine, it worked first half - but we were sluggish in changing and I'd argue, we simply didn't have the change that they made - swapping one midfielder for another with more legs. We had sleepy Josh who was having a doze on the bench and nothing else.
Lets not kid ourselves though. We're done for this season and there's no great injustice about it. We planned for one thing, binned it and started another. We recruited for something that didn't happen and it shows. We're not awful, we're not great. We've got some good attributes and we've got better in terms of the spirit and the fight we show (today, less so, but generally speaking, we've been less pushed around and our defence has improved) but the squad hasn't been there to take us where we want to be. Midtable is fair. We're so midtable that we're basically a flower arrangement at a wedding meal. Steve Bruce is not daft and is well liked by the fanbase- but summer is already in the air and wise old owl interviews from Steve only go so far - he can only do so much - the challenge to the ownership is to ensure we have business in place that seriously improves our options and fills the gaps we have. There are players we need to better compliment and players we need to replace and more competition needed all round. In a way, it feels a bit of a relief to stop pretending we can do it. We can't - we aren't good enough fundamentally and we need to draw breath, work hard and address that - and if we don't, then the questions bubbling under the surface about our intent and ambition as a club will have to be asked.
Onward
We're in control for most of the first half. Carey has some lightning breaks and is scythed down each time, we generally stroke it about well and retain possession nicely. At some point, we almost recreate the Ennis goal from last week, with super Ashley Fletcher (there ain't nobody better) spinning and putting a back heel off the base of the post from another cracking ball in by Morgan.
Planes keep landing behind the home end. There's something about the way the all seem to come in on the same angle and follow exactly the same path that makes it feels as if there's a giant screen in the sky playing a background loop. Every five minutes, the same sequence. The sun is low in the sky and hands have to be held up to render the play beyond the box in front of us visible. Stockport fans are subdued, only really rousing themselves late in the half when they create a few chances - Tyer pushes one away sharply from a close range effort and their big number 9 tries an audacious lob, that he does well to back pedal and tip over when the ball seemed for a moment to have beaten him.
---
Half time. Sunshine and open air. A stray football being knocked about in the crowd. 'It doesn't take much to keep us happy' I say. Every touch cheered. The ball bounces to the front. A kid picks it up, the crowd gives it a build up, the kid chucks it back and a huge cheer. Repeat. The ball goes up high, a lad walking down the front cotrols it. Skill. An even bigger cheer. This is as close to a definition of harmless fun as you could possibly get.
The stewards. Some of them look more like the kind of characters you'd expect to find in the FSB or like shit B+M bargains James Bond baddy henchmen. One guy has such dark rings around his eyes that it looks like he's been up for the last week having a nervous breakdown. It all feels very 'nightclub doormen on a bit of extra cash to do the football who've had a little something to keep them sharp and who are feeling a bit twitchy.' The lad from before that trapped the ball is being wrestled with. Pool fans are stepping in. I go across and join - a stand off emerges. There's a 5 minute impasse with Pool fans as a human wall and the stewards realising they've got a situation. I ask one - 'what possible harm has that lad caused to anyone? Why are you chucking him out?' - he replies 'we need to get the ball?' - I asked 'why do you have to chuck him out to get the ball' and he just turns away and refuses to respond any further. One particularly wired looking steward is pushing himself through, as if determined to have a ruck, eyes bulging and teeth gritted like a banned dog straining on a tight leash. Finally, some kind of compromise is struck and we're all allowed to stay in the ground, and watch the game we've paid £30 for though it's evident that having fun is not allowed and will be punished by a right good manhandling.
Professional Football. Treating fans with respect since 1888
(I don't get caught in the chaos at the end. It's pretty clear from half time though, that this isn't a well thought through disciplined operation.)
---
The sun has gone in. It seems as if we've left our footballing ability in the changing room. As soon as the second half starts, Stockport look better. They've rejigged their midfield and we can't cope. We do manage a break, but we can't make it count and they go up the other end and score one of those fucking infuriating goals where no one gets near anyone and it's just a cross and an unchallenged tap in. The sun comes out again.
Hmm.
The mood turns. Suddenly, what was a very supportive crowd is seeing all the flaws we overlooked. CJ in the first half was cheered like a kid we all wanted to do well at sports day when he won a header or made a tackle. Now, the charity extended to him has gone as he struggles on the right. Husband's turn and lurch backward when they try a diagonal in behind looks more laboured than ever. Super Ashley Fletcher has just about disappeared. Evans looks heavy footed and out of ideas, a creative player with cement boots on.
They're at us and dominant. Curiously, Bruce, normally so decisive delays changes for what seems an age. Ideas pop up from those around me. 'Get Beesley on, Fletcher's done' 'We need Gabriel, more fight on the right' 'Go to a back 4' 'Push Offiah in the midfield and get some bit in there' - there's merit to all of them and I can't see why we're waiting to choose to do one - we can't get hold of the ball and when we do, we can't keep it. We do fashion a chance, Coulson cutting inside with a precise far post ball and Ennis, twisting, gets a decent contact but the keeper makes a good save.
Finally we change, the Rapter and Sivera join with us going to a kind of 451 with clear instructions to play it on the ground. It works up to a point as we have briefly, a bit more control. Another chance, Ennis onto a long ball, rolling it back, Carey dives in and squares it to Morgan, Morgan from outside of the D lofts another beautiful pass and Ennis is on it, but whilst it's a firm header, he doesn't really make the keeper work too hard to keep it out Ennis again, but with a different meaning.
A point would probably have been a fair shout all in all. County dominate the second half, but they looked poor in the first. It's not to be as finally their dominance shows. They've not created endless chances, but they've controlled most of the play and the lad who scores their first gets in front of his man at the far post and squeezes a perfect header down and just inside the goal frame. Fucking typical.
We send on Bees. Nothing happens.
---
I hate to sound like a broken record but yet again, this game illustrated our lack of a dominant midfielder. Evans is a good player without doubt, but he isn't the defensive shield when we're up against it. I've written multiple times about rating Carey no matter what others may think, but he isn't a defensive shield. Morgan was sublime at points today and is probably our most all-round midfielder, but he's absolutely not a defensive shield. I don't have any problem with any of them. I rate them all in different ways - They're all we have. Onomah is surely by now a failed experiment as he's played about 30 seconds since he signed up for another 6 months and Ryan Finnegan is harder to locate than Lord Lucan. We're playing all of the midfield every week in every circumstance. That's not a recipe for a promotion and I don't understand why, given central midfielder is the hardest running, most critical position in a football team why we don't have another one we can use whose primary ability is breaking up play and winning possession. There we go, I've said it again.
What 532 today reminded me of was of last season's weakness. CJ is not a wing back is not a wing back is not a wing back. He's ok when we're on top and can attack, but when we're pinned in, he's simply not technically able to play out and contribute meaningfully to playing out. That's not so much of a concern when he's in winger mode but in full back mode, it's painful. Bruce chose to ditch the away back 4 - fine, it worked first half - but we were sluggish in changing and I'd argue, we simply didn't have the change that they made - swapping one midfielder for another with more legs. We had sleepy Josh who was having a doze on the bench and nothing else.
Lets not kid ourselves though. We're done for this season and there's no great injustice about it. We planned for one thing, binned it and started another. We recruited for something that didn't happen and it shows. We're not awful, we're not great. We've got some good attributes and we've got better in terms of the spirit and the fight we show (today, less so, but generally speaking, we've been less pushed around and our defence has improved) but the squad hasn't been there to take us where we want to be. Midtable is fair. We're so midtable that we're basically a flower arrangement at a wedding meal. Steve Bruce is not daft and is well liked by the fanbase- but summer is already in the air and wise old owl interviews from Steve only go so far - he can only do so much - the challenge to the ownership is to ensure we have business in place that seriously improves our options and fills the gaps we have. There are players we need to better compliment and players we need to replace and more competition needed all round. In a way, it feels a bit of a relief to stop pretending we can do it. We can't - we aren't good enough fundamentally and we need to draw breath, work hard and address that - and if we don't, then the questions bubbling under the surface about our intent and ambition as a club will have to be asked.
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.
If you want to get literally nothing more than you'd get for free anyway but are wanting to pointlessly give some money to the cause of a football blog that is usually far, far too long then your best option is Patreon. I wouldn't though because frankly, it's an act of self indulgence to write this shit and it shouldn't be encouraged
0 comments:
Post a Comment