Boxing Day battlers - the Mighty vs Doncaster Rovers

It's not quite snow lying deep and crisp and even, but it's cold and clear and I'm feeling remarkably festive as I set off. Optimism is back. I'd forgotten about it for a while, but for the first time in ages, I've got a sense that, all things being equal, we might just walk away with three points. That's a dangerous thought of course and in the normal course of things, I'd worry about such clearly risky thinking - football has (and the mighty tangerine wizards in particular have) a habit of surprising - for better or worse - but I'm happy today just to roll with it. I can't be bothered with all the second guessing and paranoia. 

The season of cheer and goodwill is only enhanced by passing a charming lady who responds to her child falling off their scooter with a volley of vicious abuse involving delightful phrasing such as "fucking little shit" and then, someone slumped in a yard intently holding a lighter to some kind of substance (I don't linger long enough to work out the specifics of his festive indulgence) - It's a bit like walking through 'Love Actually' - all charmingly eccentric characters and quintessential English gentility. The car wash on Ansdell Road is open. A bloke is glumly slumped in a plastic patio chair, chamois leather in hand, staring across an empty forecourt, though the puddles of suds suggests that at least one person woke up and thought 'ah, Boxing Day sales! - I better go and get the car washed' 

Inside the ground there's a buzz. It's busy, a contrast to the quiet elsewhere. There's something about a football match that transcends football itself - it feels like one big catch-up session under the stands and in an online, atomised headphone world, there's few other places I can imagine people gathering together in. Football as the last church in a soulless secular world of AI piloted drone deliveries. CJ Hamilton a latter day idol visited by pilgrims who want nothing other than to bask in his holy aura. Maybe I've stretched the cod sociology a bit far... 

I've been really excited to see Dale Taylor from the start. He looked fucking mustard (I don't know why I've used that phrase - it's something that, on reflection I imagine a Southend fan might say (fackin' mastard mate') against Wigan. Playing from the start at home, he should be able to really influence the game and there's few things more exciting than a striker of proper quality. 

Doncaster make just about their only chance of the half very early on, a header from a simple cross that they probably should have done more with, then, a really odd thing happens. The game is a bit bitty. In keeping with the general mood, Ash Fletcher miscontrols  the ball and throws himself into challenge in an attempt to win it back. He doesn't really go through with it - but I get a vision of an alternative future that involves Fletcher walking off, red card waved at his back and the bubble of my optimism lying around my feel like the soapy puddle from the car wash. I remark on this, but as I do, I notice someone is down. It's Dale Taylor. It's clear almost straight away that this appears to be a proper injury and, when he tries to stand and ends up back on the turf, there's nothing else to do but to get Tom Bloxham on. 

There's a collective frustration. It feels like we've got something nice for Christmas and then it's broken by Boxing Day. Why. Can't. We. Have. Nice. Things? 

Jordan Brown is playing better today. He suits the deeper role and is cleaning up behind Morgan and Honeyman. We manage to exert something approaching control of the game, the three of them offering a balance of skill and grit. We do, though, seem to slightly lack the lock pick and whilst there's quite a lot of possession, in an attacking sense, we look most likely to profit by hitting the wing backs who are really high up the pitch.

Imray looks really on it today and sets Morgan up for the first decent effort and then, soon after, he makes a fabulous run, curving into the path of a lovely Ollie Casey ball up the line, surging past his defender, taking it almost to the line and then cutting it into the path of Tom Bloxham who can't miss. It's a really simple goal, but beautifully executed, three quick passes and bang. 

The first half continues in a similar pattern. We cope with Doncaster with no real issues. From time to time we attack, the best effort being a glorious Albie Morgan drive, smacking the ball on the volley, connecting crisply, an arrowing low effort that the keeper does well to get to. There's a moment of absolute festive glory where CJ runs into a defender, it's almost as if he attacks him, but can't think of any kind of trick, so just bumps into him, then, fabulously, spins around like someone slightly bewildered by a revolving door and then, wonderfully and totally accidentally, the ball appears in front of him, and he toe pokes it to Husband, who dinks a lovely sand wedge cross, met by Fletcher, which drops into the keepers hands, but not before striking the hand of a defender. It's definitely handball, but also maybe ball to hand and I don't really know what a penalty is any more. The ref isn't interested. 

Some corners, a bit more pressure and that's that. 

--- 

We've been comfortably the better side - but without really tearing them to bits. It's hard to put my finger on what we've not done - but I feel like there's another gear available that we didn't really get into.

There's a surprisingly (and pleasingly) direct celebratory statement on behalf of Simon Sadler of our previous owner being finally banished from all things Blackpool FC. 

---

If I was gutted to see Taylor go off then the phrase, 'coming on for Doncaster Rovers, no 14, Billy Sharp' strikes fear into my heart. The second half starts well though and for a few minutes I think we've found that step up. Imray is still marauding and his cut back for Albie is deflected (onto the post?) 

Barring a few moments though, the second half is not really a story of attack. It is the defence that stands out. Donny start to excerpt influence on the game, taking control of possession, putting pressure on. They seem able to get out easily enough and to get through midfield but then, they meet Fraser Horsfall.

I love this lad. He's got a raw, unshowy quality to him. He's not refined, he clumps about looking a little bit like a non-league player or perhaps an off duty squaddie but he absolutely fucking loves defending. He's so good stepping up and challenging the forward as they receive the ball, being an attacker taking on Horsfall is like trying to hug a cement mixer, they seem, so often to just get turned, rolled, flipped and he comes away the winner. I love it when he runs forward - his chest and chip to the far post from a corner is almost Madine-esque in its mixture of slow, seemingly glacial, planetary forces scale physical effort and quick thinking perceptive awareness. I adore how, at corners, as around him people jostle, he springs on his toes repeatedly, as if winding himself up for the big leap and how many times he does, indeed, manage to force, lean, charge himself into the right place to spring for the ball. 

He's aided and abetted by James Husband. I shouldn't need to write a lot, I've written so much about this fella. he's the only player still with us from when I started writing this shite, but today, he's in fine form. He's not the quickest, no, but first, he's a yard behind, but he's going full tilt and then he's launching himself and the tackle is clean, perfect, full blooded. The attacker is in a heap, the ball has gone. Husband just walks away. Then, a 50/50, the attacker controls the ball, but as he does, Husband smashes in, every bit of his effort behind his instep, the contact with the ball is percussive, it fairly echoes around the stand and Jimmy is in possession now and their forward has been thrown, like a cyclist, clipped by a speeding car, rag dolling to the ground. Perfect again. Late in the game, the ball in the box, they might just get it under control and Husband, throws himself, full force, perfect timing again, and the ball is away, the danger is over. 

We try to stem the flow by changing it up as they get on top. First CJ is off and Ashworth is on. This at least means Husband doesn't have to constantly check CJ's positioning. Later, Banks and Bowler come on, Evans too, which forces Brown a bit further forward and I'm not sure he's as effective there. We remake our shape as Bloxham upfront with Banks and Bowler tucking behind. It doesn't really work, though I wonder, with a fresh and pacy forward up front, it might have, as Bowler does find pockets and several times threads it, but Bloxham doesn't have the energy and acceleration to really do the lone chasing effectively. The one real remaining chance comes as Bowler sets Banks away and he charges, forcing a decent save from their keeper. 

The absolute stand out moment though, comes from Ollie Casey. His partners might have shouldered the physical burden, but on  the one occasion Donny really broke through, the ball just refusing to be cleared, defenders toppling like skittles, the chance falling to Brandon Hanlon, in space, a perfect angle, setting himself, Peacock Farrell doing all the right things with angles, but Hanlon undeterred lifts the shot past him, the sinking feeling of blowing a lead setting in, but Ollie Casey, on the cover, falling backwards, makes what, if he was a keeper, would have been an amazing save, arms by his side, the ball all but over the line, BPF scrambles to his feet, the ball is not away, it's with Hanlon again and BPF throws himself desperately at his feet, the grenade is smothered, the chance gone and the ground roars as if we've scored. 

This moment seems to really catalyse everyone. We can't concede now. The ref is determined to give every opportunity though. He's giving a free kick to them seemingly every minute. Their no 9 is in a royal battle with Horsfall and giving them a platform to work from, it's like a rhino fighting with a tank. There's outrage in the air as time and time again, the whistle goes for seemingly innocuous challenges and yet, the ref is silent when tangerine shirts go sprawling. There are phantom corners, there's yellow cards being waved at managers and players in a seemingly arbitrary manner. His attempts to assert control just serve to make it more chaotic. In a way, it's what you want from a league 1 game - inept refereeing and a good old scrap. They swing it into the box, we scramble it away, they nod one wide, the time ticks down. BPF claims one, he gets wiped out. The burning question of 'who goes in' is raised and fortunately dismissed. We try to keep it in the corner, we're not very good at it.

One more attack is snuffed out and then, the whistle at last! 

--- 

This wasn't a hugely convincing attacking performance, nor was it a game for total football. I enjoyed it though. Defensively, we've improved a lot. There's more organisation and so much more commitment. This was precisely the kind of game we lose a few months ago but there's more belief, more togetherness. This looks far more like a team and to win an ugly game is, in a strange way, more satisfying than to blow a team aside - in any successful season, you remember the big wins - but they mean nothing without all the scrappy ones, without all the snatched and scrapped for points that fade into the shadows in the glow of glory. 

We're still a long, long way from any real glory of course - Taylor's injury is a huge blow, our lack of 'proper' midfield cover was exposed and there are holes elsewhere (a bench of 4 wingers and 2 wing backs!) - but Imray was magnificent today and Albie is coming back into form and fitness. I've already sung the praises of the back 3. The point is, I suppose, that after playing a very, very one note (and ineffective) style at the outset of the season, we're getting more performances from more players and we're getting results in different ways.   

We're conceding less, scoring more, fighting harder and opening teams up more effectively. Some of the players we thought would be great signings in August are starting to play like we hoped they would.  We're going into the next couple of games without the depth of squad we'd like, especially up front, but we've got a manager who will shuffle the pack with some thought and that's all we can ask right now.  

Christmas unruined and out of the relegation zone. 

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 - but 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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Festive fun - Wigan Athletic vs the Mighty

Driving down the hill into Wigan, a panorama of the town reveals itself. A solitary chimney stands inert, a silent and redundant memorial to the industrial past. The sky, though, is smoke grey. Coal may no longer be dug, may no longer fuel the great boilers of cotton mills but the heavens render this most archetypal of 'northern' places with a steely grimness.

For all that parts of this place reek of a past that still colours the identity of anywhere north of Crewe, ff there was a competition for the most soulless stadium then the 'Whatever It's Currently Called Lego Brick Stadium' would be a strong contender. The town maybe surrounded by mazes of terraced streets and big old pubs with beautiful tile mosaics, but their football ground is an out of town planners' utopia. My consumerist senses are overwhelmed. I'm right here in Maggie and Tony's collective dream. Who needs coal, steel and iron - all that grubby old stuff?  Lets have shops instead. Shiny clean, glass fronted ones... Not just shops, but BIG, WAREHOUSES RUN BY BIG CORPORATIONS. FUCK YEAH! Do I want a cheeky, cheeky, cheeky Nandos? What about a new PC? Maybe a dog bed because if I loved my dog I'd buy a dog bed for it. Love is money. I don't have a dog. Perhaps I should get a dog? Everything is here... How about I just lie down in the car park, overwhelmed by the sheer  weight of life and someone in a corporate uniform comes and takes my bank card out of my pocket and spends on my behalf? A kind of intervention for my own good. This man appears broken. Buy him better! 

Under leaden sky, the many back lit signs punching through the dull with bold colours, promise so much fucking satisfaction. I could be reborn, trading cash for technicolor bliss... I dodge a car. I skip between dallying shoppers. I marvel at why you'd queue as long as some people are queuing to get into Costa Coffee. The trees placed by the architect's pencil to soften the impact of so much tarmac and concrete and shade the original plans a misleading and optimistic green, are shivering, skeletal in the December murk, their roots bound in by kerb-stone and tarmac. They look stunted and ill.

This is a bleak place. 

I like the team. I can't really find a lot to moan about in the selection. I outright and unequivocally love Evo's decision to again not include a sub keeper. For one, it's a risk, yes but risk is what we've lacked in the last few years. Secondly, it evokes the possibility of an outfield player in goal, one of the single greatest things that can ever happen in a football match, and I will allow no dissent against this. There's some musing on who would go in, and the conclusion is 'Husband' - based on absolutely nothing other than it seems like the sort of thing he would do, trudging towards the goals, clapping the unfamiliar gloves as he goes, rolling his shoulders and whirling his arms as if to get used to the idea that it's the other set of limbs he needs to use now, for the first time ever...

This image leads me to wonder - how prepared are we for this? If ever I were in a post match press conference (which seems unlikely) I'd probably ask about the details of the outfield player in goal situation over anything to do with the game itself - firstly, obviously, the identity of the nominated player - but, given the possibility of injury and substitutions, what is the hierarchy - who is the backup to the nominated player? Who is the backup to the backup? Do they practice? How often? Do you pick any of them because of their goalkeeping potential? Do they have their own kit or will they borrow BPF's? What if the gloves or the shirt are too big or too small? Is there ever a situation where, if you did have keeper on the bench, you'd consider bringing them on as an outfield player and wouldn't that be genuinely fucking brilliant craic Ian? 

I don't expect a press pass in the mail any time soon.  

The fact I've instantly digressed into niche questions tabled in an imaginary press conference I'm never going to attend is really an indication of having very little to say about the first half. It's a spectacularly unadventurous half of football. Wigan are resolutely Ryan Lowe (is a cunt) - difficult to break down and playing like an unadventurous away side at home. Oh what fun it must be to have him as your manager. He makes Critch 2.0 seem like a craven attacking lunatic. We're kept at arms length aside from a little wriggling run by Bowler culminating in a shot from the edge of the box that is a routine save for Tickle and a rising shot from James Husband from outside the box that would have had me careering down the steps, leaping over the hoardings and running the length of the pitch had it gone in.  It didn't. 

In truth, we're probably a little bit lucky (only a little bit though) to go in level. Wigan miss a couple of chances, a few poor finishes to their rare moments of adventure - the most glaring, a really bad header that goes two or three feet over when it looked for all the world as if they were going to open the scoring. 

That's really about it. Both sides look like they want to pass it around but neither seems convincing in the execution of the intent. It's like two sides looking to hit their groove but the truth is, the furrow is rather shallow and the needle repeatedly bounces out. Our midfield keep giving the ball away, Honeyman is particularly culpable but Brown and Bowler aren't a whole lot better at retaining it. Our strikers can't get in the game, Bloxham is well marshalled and Fletcher is coming deeper and deeper in search of the ball. Coulson goes off again, Ashworth is a replacement that many might have started anyway. 

The game kind of drifts by, the teams mostly trading ineffective moves that break down - the only other highlights being

a) BPF going down in what seems an obvious attempt to break up play and get the players over to Evatt for a few minutes - just for a moment I wonder if we might get to see the answers to the questions above without the need for them being asked. 

b) running through a load of old songs for no apparent reason. It's top stuff and it's always particularly good to hear the Ludo Sylvestre song - I'm slightly disappointed that's as far back as we go, hoping as I am for one more chance to celebrate the majestic goal poaching of Andy (oh Andy, Andy, oh Andy) Watson!... Superstar! I'm further disappointed that such a run through of past hits doesn't prompt a collective moment of reflection and out of that, spontaneously emerges a full throated whole stand rendition of "There's only one Jimmy Husband" 

One day. Maybe when he's gone in goal and saved a penalty. Maybe then we'll sing his name. 

--- 

It's 0-0, the main conclusion I take is we got a bit bullied in midfield and we've lacked the pace up front to really put any pressure on their defence. Wigan look pretty shite too though. 

--- 

There's no massive change to us in the second half. Evatt goes to the bench - I suspected he'd bring Taylor on early and he does, Albie Morgan accompanying him on to the pitch in place of Bloxham and Bowler, two players with undoubted talent but who haven't really impacted the game today. 

The change is immediate. Taylor obviously takes the headlines for his direct impact - but Morgan adds a certain energy and fight and allows Honeyman to push into the slot Bowler had been in - previous times I've seen the little Mackem play there, I'd not really been convinced by him as a 10 - he's not so much a silky threader of passes and executer of nimble footed dance moves as a buzzing hornet - but that, it turns out, is exactly what the game needs and he's fantastic. 

Taylor (and I honestly don't write this to put Tom down, because he's done well in the last month or so and really put a shift in) immediately shows what Bloxham isn't. He's got an instinctive sense of the role, he's dropping into bits of space, he's drifting into the defender, idling, then he's exploding away, making space for himself. He's aware of the angles for a pass and the moment to close down. Combined with the Honeyman whirlwind and Morgan's terrier qualities, Wigan suddenly have quite a lot more to cope with. 

The goal when it comes is a shock. It happens very quickly. Wigan dally, Honeyman nips in, a toe to the ball, it squirts to Taylor, immediately he accelerates towards the byline but before he gets there, he cuts it accross, into the path of Fletcher at the near post and then, the ball is forcing the net taut, Fletcher is trotting away, cool as fuck, it's just a goal, hey, I score them all the time, and around me the tangerine faithful are going ballistic. It's a clinical finsih, beautifully set up and executed, simple and deadly. Come on the Pool! 

This forces Wigan into life, BPF makes a good save, the kind of strange but increasingly effective thing he does, an upward punch from a close range Wigan effort, one that again, you'd say they should and could have done better with. From this, he launches one of those Schmeichal-esque throws that sets us away and though it comes to nothing in the end, the atmosphere as we roar  the chasing Taylor on is glorious, Wigan need to come onto us and we can break on them and we're good at this. 

The second goal is a sublime demonstration of this. Husband switches play, Imray flicks on, Honeyman surges, gets past his man and arrows a ball across, Fletcher, with some kind of divine awareness and ridiculous grace, clam and composure spins into a back heel and turns it precisely into the path of Dale Taylor who, with Morgan in tow, is steaming onto it, then he's connecting, the ball rocketing home, unstoppable, as Taylor falls to the ground, to be dragged up and mobbed by team mates. If the first goal was a good feeling, this is an ecstasy, half time cynicism replaced by the leaping, flailing limbs of any away day moment of magic - in front of me, lads fall back over the seat, the side of me jumping on the spot, behind me fists shaken manically. YESSSS!

The songbook gets more ambitious, the Pool are going up! To the objective soul, it may seem a bit fanciful from 22nd at kick off to declare ourselves as a potential Championship team in waiting but, fuck it. This is why we do this. This is exactly the point. It might only be a goal, it might be a bit daft, but it's a really good goal and Taylor has finally had the kind of impact we want and need him to have. Maybe, just maybe, he's a jigsaw piece and maybe, instead of rattling around in the box with the rest under Bruce, who, like yer grandad watching the racing all day couldn't really be arsed putting in the corner pieces and building the picture carefully, he's been slotted into place by the somewhat more dilligent solver of puzzles and builder of images, Ian Evatt. 

I'm getting carried away. Again though, why the fuck not? 

Does much else happen? I don't think so. Wigan have a couple of moments, the most convincing of which is a goal ruled out for offside and a near post effort we don't convincingly manage and they again, probably should have done better with. There's a bit of classic Husband, first squaring up to one of them and getting away with it, then giving the ball away on the edge of his own box but racing back to make the challenge and somehow managing to come out with a free kick. for his troubles. Butter would not melt in Saint Jimmy's mouth. Casey goes down and Lyons comes on. Overall, that's a bit worrying but in the immediate, it probably quite suits us as Lyons is more comfortable on the break than Casey. The Horse has a couple of enjoyable wrestling matches with Wigan's sub striker. I do like his old school style. He reminds me of a 1990s defender. Ashworth rattles into tackles and we sing our way towards the end.   

At some point around 85 minutes, Wigan's fans depart en-masse. It's like one gets up and then they all follow. I've rarely been at an away game where I can't recall a single chant from the home team - even your genteel outposts like Shrewsbury or teams in freefall like, say, Carlisle, you are at least aware the home fans are there - but today, all I can hear are tangerine voices from the beginning to the end. 

We play out the game in a surprisingly professional and competent manner. The whistle goes, Evatt is over for a brisk and heartfelt fisting. We respond vigorously.

A good day out. 

--- 

Did we totally convince? No, not totally. Do I care? No, not really. There was enough again to see some real improvement. We were quite solid, notwithstanding they did miss a few decent chances - regardless, it's a second clean sheet away from home and there was a quality to some of our play in the second half that looked dangerous. Taylor scored twice, yes, but in this team, based as it is around more possession and attacking as a group, his flicks and touches made a lot more sense than they did as an isolated target in a long ball side. There were a couple of moments which were not notable for any great impact, but just sublime skill, one, a loose ball bouncing and such a clever flick round for Fletcher to chase and the other, a moment where he ran round, got to a ball held it up, shimmied and laid it back to retain possession, that felt like something Jerry Yates would have done. To be honest, though, most of all, it's the way he steamed in onto the ball in the box that I took most from. We just haven't had that player for ages and maybe we do now. There's still Ennis and his intensity to factor in as well... 

The second point of promise revolves again around Taylor - but this time, it's the point is about Evatt really. Instantly, Taylor and Fletcher combined. They looked aware of each other, they fed each other, they worked as a unit. Yes, it was a well timed sub, but more importantly, given that they've barely played together and when they did previously, there was no real evidence of chemistry, this can only been down to the work on the training pitch. Teams are formed of players who work together and undoubtedly, there has been a massive improvement in this respect. Players know their jobs and increasingly and crucially, they seem to be starting to know each others roles too - this must be built on work behind the scenes, and this is what becomes 'instinct' on the pitch.

Whilst, I still don't think we're there and we've still got some potential gaps, questions about certain positions and the depth of our effective resources as well as our aptitude against certain types of football, I cannot for a moment think anything but that Ian Evatt and his staff have worked their arses off and improved us from a very low base and that is all we can ask. To quote our own motto, there is undoubtedly progress. 

For once, a Christmas not (yet) ruined. We love you Blackpool, we do! 

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 - but 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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Fight back: the Mighty vs Lincoln City

I don't know what we're going to get today. In an Ian Evatt world we've shown we can be good, but we're still very capable of being really bad. We've just had a really convincing away win - but we're still firmly in the relegation zone and our last home league game we were utter shit. I'm not approaching games with the cynicism I was feeling in the latter days of Bruce - but I'm nowhere near having the confidence to actively look forward to games. I'm a long way short of skipping up Bloomfield Road full of belief - but at least I'm not shuffling along wondering what the point is.  

What will be will be. 

---

We start like we're making a point. We WILL pass the ball. Everyone will touch it. We look good. This is nice. No sign of the long punt to no one, just passing and moving. We look like we could dominate. We're reborn. We will win 10-0

This lasts for about 90 seconds. We conceded first possession, then a free kick and then a goal. How we concede the goal is quite novel. We simply don't have any defence on the left hand side. When Evo talked about being imaginative with set pieces, I'm not sure this is what he meant. We assume, I think, that Lincoln are going to sling the ball in the box, so we get ourselves all prepared for that - and then when when they instead quickly take it down the line, we're completely caught out - and they have to make astonishingly little effort to get into a shooting position and comprehensively beat BPF. 

This is not the start you want. Still, it's come very early and that gives us ages to get back into the game. 

That's not how it goes. Lincoln shut us down entirely. It's them who first look like scoring, a snapshot on the turn over the bat and then do score, a ball into the clouds falls to a Lincoln forward, Ihiekwe gets a toe to it, the ball squirts to another one who shoots, a deflection turns it into a looping effort beyond the reach of the keeper and we're 2-0 down. 

FFS Pool. 

Now we've got the exact problem we've struggled with for years. An organised side who don't need to attack us. We're exceptionally bad in this exact situation. 

There then follows a long period of very frustrating football. A man near me offers the idea that "this all shows Evatt - stop fannying about with it, we can't do this passing about from the back shit - he needs to cut it out" - I think about Ian Evatt's career and how unlikely it is that he's going to eschew "fannying about" and decide to say quiet. It's good for people to have some hope I think. Michael Ihiekwe is finding fannying about particularly challenging and we as a whole look static and move the ball slowly. We painfully lack pace up front and anyone to stretch the Lincoln back line. We're limited to a few blocked shots from Bowler. There's quite a lot of arguing between the players. This is not going well. 

Thank fuck then for Ashley Fletcher - Imray plays a nice ball curling into the box, Fletcher runs from deep, looks second favourite but gets touch to take it past keeper and defender and then makes sure the keeper takes him out. He's dealt with that brilliantly, taking what wasn't really a convincing chance and turning it into a stone wall penalty. Lee Evans steps up. Smash. The net receives the ball, the Pool are back in the game. On the balance of play, I'm not sure it's particularly deserved - but it certainly was needed

The first half ends with a periods of possession so inert, so unadventurous, that I have to check Ian Evatt isn't Neil Critchley - it's clear that we just want to get into the dressing room and be only a goal down and to rejig things. 

--- 

We've been poor. I'm not sure  how much it's down to having both Evans and Bowler in midfield - they both want to influence the game as opposed to chasing it down. Can you have two of them doing that. Bowler 2526 wants to pick up loose balls and break - but if there are no loose balls because Evans isn't really going to break up play as Brown or Morgan would then how effective is he? 

Ennis would improve the team so much - the one time we've stretched them, it ended with the goal. We've otherwise played in front of them and both Fletcher and Bloxham are dropping to pick up the ball - because that's what both of them do. I genuinely wonder if CJ might be a call to sit on a defenders shoulder. That's how little we've created. 

--- 

The call is Andy Lyons. Ihiekwe doesn't reappear. This might improve us as whilst Lyons isn't really a centre back, he's a whole lot more comfortable with the ball and Ihiekwe has found it hard going. Lincoln haven't been pretty to watch but they've been very effective. They've been highly physical and very intense in their high pressing. They've been very organised at the back too - basically, they've rushed us when we've got the ball at the back - but dominated if we've tried to go long - and Ihiekwe has been the point where it's broken down too often. 

We're better. I wouldn't say we're anywhere near as good as we would hope to be - but the balance of play isn't so painfully skewed. Despite it sometimes appearing so, Evatt isn't Critchley. He's clearly tasked the central defenders with getting higher up the pitch with the ball. This, I like - I mean, it's risky, yes, but starting the move on the half way line instead of the edge of your own box is advantageous. He's spoken several times about the need to gamble a bit more and we do. 

I watch us carefully. It's frustrating that we can't quite find the switch or the right ball. We do still piss about at the back but we're having more success in drawing Lincoln into us - at one point, we pull 8 of their players into the square we're playing in - and Bowler has drifted away - he's free, we just need to see him - Imray is beyond him - we just need to get the ball out and there's one...two passes and we're in - but instead we go back to the keeper because we just can't find the way out. 

We make a few chances - a cut back from Fletcher, Honeyman arrives and the ball fizzes low and past the near post. I'm not wholly convinced by Honeyman today. You cannot for a moment question his effort - but aside from running on to that pass, he seems a bit in between things - he's not in the maelstrom disrupting as much as he might be - but he's also not really pulling strings or creating. I look at the numbers after the game and learn that Josh Bowler (yes, really) makes more successful tackles today (and has more key passes, shots and get ready for this... wins more headers!) - Honeyman has the least touches of any of outfield players aside from the forwards. Something isn't quite right with our midfield setup. 

We make a raft of subs. The return of players from injury is without doubt giving Evatt more cards to play and to be fair to him, he's willing to play them. Again, unlike Critchley he does seem willing to gamble a bit from the bench. His first change brings Morgan on (hurray, everyone loves Albie and we need him buzzing about being Albie) but he takes off Bowler... hmmm. Honeyman is pushed up and I'm still not convinced that he finds a groove. 

He then gradually feeds in more attacking threat. Banks (a player I wish we could find a place for more often) and Taylor (a much needed additional striker) are on. Honeyman is off, Bloxham is off. If Honeyman hasn't quite clicked, Bloxham has struggled - he pulled out one divine cross from a difficult position in the first half but otherwise he's looked like a man who has played a lot of games without much backup. 

Taylor is lively. Again I watch the movement - and he's splitting from Fletcher, running away from him in a way that Bloxham wasn't really offering. Banks seems to first go into the hole behind the forwards and then to drift wide - whether this is by design or by instinct I don't know. 

We get a chance, Banks in the right wingers role that we don't really play cuts it across, Fletcher at the near post and an unholy collision, the ball away for a corner. We have lots of corners. That makes for an encouraging atmosphere. There's a sense that, Lincoln, for all the muscular, athletic endeavour in the first period are tiring and we're now on top. 

One thing I think Ian Evatt is doing very well, is using CJ Hamilton. A cynic might say 'what, you mean, he's not using him very much?' - but no, I don't mean that entirely... I mean, using him in bursts, in an attacking cause. CJ is warming up - Coulson goes down for his monthly injury and limps off. I don't know who CJ was supposed to come on for, but he's on and he's going to play high on the left and try and run back if he needs to. 

We've reached the 'glancing at the clock quite frequently' stage now. We've played all our cards. We need something. Scott Banks provides it - the ball ballooning up in the air out wide, Banks spotting something and instead of controlling and moving the ball as seems most likely, he volleys it across goal. Fletcher lashes it, Taylor lashes it. It drops to CJ who (and lets give the man every credit here, because 'brains' and CJ aren't always synonymous in fan discourse) has the calmness and presence of mind to slot it back to Ashley Fletcher who places it exactly where it needs to go... again... the man is having a blinder this season. If he was 5 or 6 years younger, we'd be thinking of the price we could for him... 

It's not mayhem - I mean, we've just got the goal we've laboured to against a side who probably haven't spent as much money as we have this year... but it's a very, very satisfying moment. We might not have played amazingly - but perhaps more importantly, we've really stuck at it, we've kept going, we've shown some resilience, some fight, some character - all of those intangibles, all of those cliches are what we've lacked - and today, we've shown some. When you describe a team as 'labouring to an equaliser' it sounds critical - but in the context of this year, I mean it as praise - because effort and will got us there in the end - and that's really not been the case far too often. 

There's hope for a winner. Nothing in particular materialises. There's a few moments where it looks like Lincoln might break - but again, nothing in particular materialises. 

The whistle goes. The applause is deserved. 

--- 

We obviously can't celebrate draws at home all season - because we need to win games - but Lincoln are absolutely the archetype of what we've struggled with. They're very good at what they do and they're in good form. They offer a physical challenge from front to back - they manage to both press high and sit deep and though that cost them (basically, they run like maniacs) in the end, they made it very difficult to play through OR go over them. 

I've not mentioned his name above - but I thought Ashworth was really good today - In the second half, he looked the most comfortable in stepping up and disrupting play. He won us the ball, he was willing to risk a tackle and when he tackles, he tackles hard. We have quite a few players who either are slight or not really tacklers and Ashworth has a kind of pleasing bony ruggedness about him as a counterpoint to that. He looks like it hurts if you tangle with him - if Coulson is made of string and cloth, Ashworth is made of concrete and rebar and even though he's not that big, he's got a solidity. Morgan added a similar desire when he came on. Towards the end, he flew up the pitch and launched into a slide tackle on the keeper from a back pass - it didn't come off - but with the lack of Ennis, there's only really Albie you can visualise doing such a thing, making a lost cause into a moment of brief possibility. It is this fight, this physical quality that has to be aligned with ability for us to progress and it's fucking good to see some of it. 

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 - but 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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In the hat! - the Mighty vs Carlisle Utd

Fucking winter. I mean the season, not the all action, super dynamic CEO of Blackpool Football Club, but I guess, you could read the opening two words however you wish and get basically the same outcome. 

This winter is dark. It rains all the time. I've been ill for ages and that just adds to the impression that everything is grey skies and misery. It's like living in Bladerunner only instead of sexy AI ladies on the massive adverts, the dystopian city is covered in giant Mick McCarthy's answering "oh, it can" on a loop. 

It can't get any worse can it?  

It can, because I've just spent 5 minutes with an AI tool getting pissed off because it keeps generating a terrible version of the image above, in which Mick looks like a Hollywood hunk. I'm arguing with it as it produces ever less accurate images and tells me they're accurate. It's a post truth world I know, but Mick has not ever and will not ever look like the hearthrob types that the AI tool keeps throwing out. 

Fuck off AI

Sorry. This is supposed to be a football blog isn't it? True to the prevailing season, it pisses down for ages today but just before the game it stops.

I quite like the team. It's not perfect but we're not dealing with perfection this year. Perhaps the world isn't totally dystopian. I drink a pint. I watch the TV by the bar.

On the screen is an advert for (I kid you not) dog food made of insects. The narrative seems to be about a dog that is depressed by climate change so his owner buys him happiness with insect protein. Cos that's not weird. We're truly through the looking glass in 2025. I give up. I preferred not living in a terrible SciFi future but here we are. Existential canine dread and ever inventive consumer solutions that capitalism always provides. 

Anyway... 

Carlisle have brought about 40000 fans in full voice. We've mustered a ragtag crew of people with nothing better to do who don't seem overly bothered that there's a game on. We've been really shit recently again.

What could possibly go wrong? 

--- 

Pool make a bright start and put together the kind of nice move that Ian 'motivational linkedinspeak press conference guru' Evatt will surely approve of and see as a sign that process might become product. Hansson puts in cross, Fletch seems sure to score, but what happens instead is the ball is scuffed away and what I thought was a bit of a howler is given instead as a corner...

After the initial optimism, it's all Carlisle for a spell. They win corner after corner and come closest with a shot BPF kind of belly flops away like a kid surprised to have been pushed into a swimming pool. That sounds a bit damning, but it's actually a good bit of unorthodox keeping. 

Bloxham runs the length of the pitch on the break and despite seeming to get past everyone, Carlisle get a goal kick. As a result of that, and the pressure from the team the man in front is vocally pointing out look like they're dressed in carrier bags, I'm a bit worried that we might be shite again. 

Then things turn a bit. Fletch has an effort scooped of the line. Banks and Honeyman combine well. Banks scuttles across the box, Carlisle hack away hopelessly and can't take the ball of us - We seem to have about 3 scoring chances before Bloxham puts it away. It's a scruffy goal, but it's a great boost. I don't think we've looked much better than them, but we're in front. 

Carlisle respond by slicing us to bits down our left. Everyone is waving at where everyone else should be and they make easy progress to the byline. They cut it back and a shot, and that's a fucking shit goal to concede... but it's not because BPF is flying, seemingly from a hopeless position and making one of the best stops I've seen in a long time with a very strong arm. 

Carlisle's keeper responds to BPF's heroics by making a good stop from Banks, doing well to get low to a crisply hit shot and then the game falls into a trough of zero ideas. For about 10 minutes, it's dire and neither side does anything even remotely effective in an attacking sense and perhaps the thousands who have something better to do made the right choice. 

This void of quality lasts till the frustrating Norwegian schoolkid (he's got a lot of ability, but the physique of a 14 year old), Emil Hansson runs right up the middle, lays off to Ash Fletcher who smashes it home with no hesitation. It's a lovely finish from Fletch who would definitely be right up there in a list of our least worst players this year.

2 is 3 shortly after as Scott Banks scores that goal that Scott Banks scores again. It's a great goal, just as it has been every other time he's scored it, cutting inside, showing a change of pace and then hitting a shot when it looks like he isn't going to hit a shot that curls beautifully and makes the side netting billow very satisfyingly. 

---

I'm not sure we've been 3-0 better but we've definitely had the upper hand and after the second, we controlled the game totally. I'm looking forward to the second half and in particular, to seeing what the returning players might bring from the bench. 

---

The exciting half time sub is Lee Evans. Hmmm.

My mate texts me, he's watching the game on telly. 'Not even Blackpool can fuck this up can you?' - My reply is predictable but borne of too many years of this. 

Then, here we fucking go. Coulson backs off. At times he resembles a leaf and the player running at him a leaf blower. I even growl, Hayden, get fucking tighter! as their lad sends him back peddling. Carlisle score. For fuck's sake Pool. For fuck's sake life, for fuck's sake this season. 

Casey, who has done well tonight so far, misses a tackle on the half way line. Their no 10 marauds forward, gets his head up, hits an ambitious ball across the box, but executes it brilliantly, a Carlisle man connects on the slide and I'm just about to hit the railing in front of me in despair at our general inability to do anything and the sheer fucking pointless hopelessness of following this stupid club, when BPF makes another stunning save. Thank fuck. We love you Blackpool. We do. 

We need to get a grip and happily, we do. Great hold up play from Bloxham, who I've often criticised for the lack of the very element I'm praising - he plays a square ball which is turned on again, now it's wide and we're at the byline, a pull back and the coolest of finishes from Super Ashley Fletcher and the game is done. We needed to stamp down the Carlisle mini revival and we've done it with a clinical finish and a really nicely worked move. 

The rest of the game is quite enjoyable. There's little tension though BPF makes another couple of nice saves, we largely control things and we play with some ambition. This is a long way from perfection, but you can see the influence of Evatt in the way we're keen to get the ball down and willing to try some intricate play. Imray comes on and immediately looks busy and purposeful. He's born to play a RWB role and could have a huge impact on the rest of the season because to me, in a side with wing backs, you have to have one like Imray, who just won't stop going forward, otherwise you end up playing with a back five and that's when the set up looks shite. Bowler comes on and looks, if not the full 230 volts, certainly to have been reasonably charged up. 

There's a well worked free set piece that exploits Horsfall's qualities at the far post, there's a ball across the goal that Imray throws himself at and alarmingly needs treatment after, but appears ultimately none the worse for his efforts. There's a wonderfully entertaining cameo from CJ up front where, first, he chases down a long ball, and appears to miss, not once, but twice when it looked as if he had to score. Someone shouts "CJ, doing CJ things" and then, CJ does CJ things again, slipped through by a gorgeously weighted Bowler pass, he hits the keeper where again, it looked like he had to score. Bowler himself peels off a couple of lovely runs, one in particular has me in raptures as he slips past one, then between two, then seems to be bearing down on goal before he is sent tumbling. I'm not sure it was a penalty but it's a reminder of his quality and the absurdity of a side who can sign such a player being where we are. 

Everyone wants another goal, we manage another move where we seem to fail to put the ball away about three times and then, even more entertainingly, Honeyman goes down, Mark Hughes isn't convinced by the agony that George appears to be in, Ian Evatt isn't happy with Mark Hughes making his feelings known and the two of them have a gloriously undignified verbal spat on the touchline. This is exactly what you want from such a game. 

The whistle goes. We're in the hat. 

--- 

In the end we won comfortably, but we did have some well timed, high quality saves from the keeper to thank for the game not becoming more awkward than it did. The returning players did us good as did the simple maths of having more first team players available to freshen things up. We do really need a striker back to add to that depth, though I've always quite liked the sheer chaos option of sticking CJ through the middle for 10 minutes (I certainly prefer it to him playing full back) and sooner or later, he will, whether by accident or design, score a goal, simply because he's very quick and that's something that we lack up front. We've plenty of other options to do the other shit CJ does - but really, no one to swap out for Fletch or Bloxham. 

This season has been mostly disappointment and whilst I remain (largely) convinced that we really, really should have enough quality to get enough results that the unthinkable image of the most well invested in Blackpool squad in years getting relegated to the 4th tier doesn't become a reality - there's no real confidence that we're going to go on a run to promotion because a) we've left ourselves so much to do and b) as it stands, whilst I think we do have quality, we definitely lack the collective character to grind out the kind of run we would need. 

Tonight, was, therefore, fun - because we won, because at times we played quite well and most of all, because in what has been a bit of a grim and pretty joyless trudge in the muddy depths of the league, we're in the third round draw and we can, at least before we get drawn against fucking Oxford Utd or some other non-entity, dream of a little bit of cup magic. 

Which, really, is the point of all of this isn't it? 

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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Exactly what we want - the Mighty vs Cardiff City

The sky is a splendid azure blue, and the bricks of Bloomfield Road are red, neat, their 90 degree angles offset by the gentle curve of bay windows. I wonder how this looked in the 1930s in the throes of optimistic growth or in the 50s when the town and the club were the embodiment of a post war boom and the tangerine wizards had genuine claim to be amongst the best in the world.

A lambretta, gleaming as if the rider stops and polishes the bike with a chamois leather at every junction passes the building crowd. A police sergeant paces back and forward on the opposite side of the road, watchful and restless as Cardiff fans queue. In the upstairs window of a flat, curtains flicker and a gaunt face looks out from between faded fabric as if suspicious of what is going on outside. 

What do I want today? I just want us to not be shit. I don't know what to expect. Judging by the buzz pre match, no one else does either. The cynicism of recent weeks is gone, replaced by a sort of hope - it's not a 'get into this lot, we'll smash them' kind of hope, but more just a sense that we might dare to have half an idea. We've definitely been better since Evo arrived but expectations are the enemy of happiness and Cardiff are actually any good so extrapolating from wins against a painfully shit Peterborough and a not so shit but nonetheless in the conference Scunthorpe isn't really going to get us anywhere in terms of certainty. 

---

We're good from the off, there's an energy to our play, a pressing, urgent, forward looking sense of purpose that has been conspicuous by its absence this season. It's like the whole team are Niall Ennis as we push up and snap at them. We have what you might call 'bite' - We're all over them and it's everything I didn't dare dream of, us, high up the pitch, terrorising Cardiff, threading passes, flicking it first time, aware, alert and imaginative. Bowler turns on a 5p piece and races up the middle, a shot forcing a half decent stop. Fletch prompts with the pomp of an orchestral conductor. It goes on for 15 minutes, the best chance falling to CJ who seems to be playing as both full back and a third striker and who, after good work to get himself the opportunity, hits the side netting when a goal looked almost certain. 

For all the pressure, we don't score. The noise is constant though, there's something in the air - this is exactly what we want. We might not be in front, but we look like we want to be and we look like we want to play football. The players have gone from a few weeks ago treating the ball like the lurgy to seeking it out and it's great to see. This is proper stuff, this is chants back and forth, blood and thunder stuff. This is Eng-ger-land vs Wales, 1953 plays 1927, sheep shaggers vs smackheads - Full marks though to Cardiff for 'you're just a shit Barry Island' which did make me smile. 

Then, we're not all over them. Then, they're in charge and it's a blue tide, neat, incisive and relentless. Suddenly our dream that we're the team on the pitch that is any good seems a bit premature, maybe we're just going to flatter to deceive and then get blown away... 

Ladies and gentlemen of tangerine persuasion, I present to you, Bailey Peacock Farrell. He's a one man wall, a green clad singular army, as Cardiff do everything but score. He's down to his left, his right,, he's tipping them over, he's sweeping the edge of his box, he's punching, flicking and claiming crosses. He's out to smother chances like a fire blanket - He's absolutely fucking sensational as he hurls it out, making Peter Schmeichel look like a limp wristed floppy armed soft arse in comparison. It's a breathless 20 minutes as the Bluebirds try everything to murder us but find BPF in the form of his life. 

The game settles into some kind of equilibrium. We've gone at them, they've gone at us. Now we trade blows. CJ does a few quintessentially CJ things, my favourite is an air kick after he's done brilliantly to keep the ball alive. If he was any good he'd actually be Ronaldo. BPF makes another save. Bloxham hits a loose ball brilliantly and the Cardiff keeper is flying to right, the ball is whistling away from him and the post is in his way. The noise. Oh, the noise. How is this the same ground that muttered and grumbled it's way through recent games?  Bowler finds himself on the right, is played into the box by the beat of the drum and though his shot is weak, it's a moment of thrilling potential. 

Probably the best moment of the half in terms of understanding what has changed is a moment where Bowler (yes, that is correct) wins the ball back with some firm tackling (yep!) and feeds Bloxham, who wrestles and fights and retains the ball. This pleased me deeply, not because it's a particularly great moment but, because it's two players who have looked fitful, diffident, if I was being particularly scathing, a bit half hearted and who are giving their all - these are players who, if we can get exceptional effort from them, we'll get, sooner or later, an exceptional reward.

--- 

In some ways we're lucky to be level - in others, maybe we should be ahead. It's been a great half, absorbing, pulstating, some bits of real quality from both sides. This isn't a typical League 1 game - we've got two teams that want to play and some players capable of playing. Yes, we've given chances away, yes we've given the ball away - but we've made chances of our own and each time we've turned the ball over it's been an attempted pass that is trying to set us away and that's such a difference from just booting the ball into the corner and hoping for the best. I'm not sure what comes next, but I've enjoyed this so far.  

--- 

What comes next is, we fanny about a bit at the back, but manage to squirt the ball forward and then, because we've drawn them in a bit (cos fannying about is at times useful and mixing it up is the key to happiness at this level), Bowler is set free in the middle and he drives, then, just as visions of an electric goal appear, he offloads an inch perfect pass, putting Super Ashley Fletcher, up against the keeper. This is where he might scuff it, fall over, hit the corner flag, air kick it so hard his boot flies off into his own face, but no, not this time, not this Ash Fletcher, because he's composed, he's in charge, he's a cut above. Fletcher shows exactly why there ain't nobody better as he makes to drag the ball one way and then, instead, smashes the ball into the roof of the net, him against the keeper looks like a big kid playing against his little brother and the place has erupted. 

I'm surprised in a way, I'd been happy with the first half, but we've come out in the second and put ourselves in front. Maybe... 

Cardiff come back at us... BPF again making saves. Cardiff have a run of corners that never seems to end. We're under pressure and us being in front seems to make it higher stakes because whilst at kick off I just wanted us not to be shit, we haven't been shit and we're in front and now all I want is the three points. I want us to defend and we do. Horsfall and Ihiekwe are brave, stepping out numerous times to cut out attacks. Casey mops up behind them. Cardiff put a gilt edged chance, a downward header from a late run into the box just wide when it felt as if it couldn't be missed... In return, Zac Ashworth works their keeper with a brilliant drive from the edge of the box after a clever little freekick where Hansson ran to a short ball and faked intent perfectly, leaving it instead to roll to the man behind him and Cardiff half a second behind play. Brown and Honeyman buzz around and break up play. Honeyman is in his element - I thought first half he looked a little bit lost in the system - but this half he's just in Cardiff faces, instantly, it's like they get the ball and he teleports to a place they want to go to with it. 

A Pool break, Bloxham fights for it, he's done brilliantly and he's forced it forward. Hansson, on for the injured Bowler has it and is charging, right up the middle,  and then, like Bowler earlier, just as I think he's going to take it himself he lays it, perfectly weighted into the path of the galloping Fletcher and the big man is bearing down on goal, the big man is looking so calm, balanced, elegant and cool as time slows down, the keeper comes and he flicks it, deftly over him and agonisingly, deliciously beyond the despairing man on the cover and into the grateful net. A beautiful goal. A beautiful moment. I think my soul briefly leaves my body as the ground shakes. This man is a real player. He might be a box of unpredictability but when he's on it, he's absolute class and he's on it like he's rarely been to day. 

Then it's all about Bloxham. The man has run himself ragged and as Cardiff throw more players forward, Bloxham seems to get chance after chance. He's set free by Fletcher, with a pass as beautifully delivered as a world class snooker player rolling one up the table to cover a pocket, Bloxham can't not be through on goal with service that good, he must score... he's foiled by the keeper, he's put through again, this time he must surely score... and he seems to dally before striking it and a defender hurls himself full length and stuns it away for the corner. Each chance seems to eat away at Bloxham's very being, he's lies, full length, hair matted with sweat, his barrel chest heaving, he strikes the turf with his hands, he just can't buy a goal... 

Then... another quite magnificent pass by Ashley Fletcher, skimming it perfectly into the path of Bloxham, charging through again, curving his run, taking the ball into the box, drawing the keeper, going too wide, he's blown it again has he?  No, it's not too wide as he shimmies, and leaves keeper for dead and then turns the ball across the six yard box and again, a Cardiff defender flails, to no avail and the ball is rolling, like a perfect golf putt, into the far corner and for the third time, the players are running to the corner flag to celebrate and Bloxham again sinks to the floor, flat out in sheer relief.

It's over as a contest and I can't quite believe it. I don't want this to end. It's been a dreadful season for the kind of football we want to see (y,know, shots, goals, skill, that type of thing) and we get yet more. Bloxham gets another chance from a wide angle and hits it low, hard, accurately and is only foiled by a really good stop from their keeper. Banks maybe should have added a fourth as Bondo puts him through with an alert and accurate pass but the winger's shot is a bit too close to the keeper.

It's not quite the perfect day in the end -Cardiff score one as BPF struggles to gather a shot that fizzes off the turf and spills right to their man - it doesn't matter. It's immaterial. I'd much rather BPF make the mistake at this point in this game than at a crucial point in another. Mistakes happen, and BPF has been awesome today and perhaps such things will serve just to keep us working, remind us to be alert and keep us yearning for clean sheets. Maybe it's better not to get everything we want so soon?  

The whistle is cue for the players to collapse - they look absolutely drained, they sit, they lie, they stretch and they seem to all take it in on their own for a few moments - then they pick themself up and come together. Evo is dealing hugs and manly congratulations. CJ is grinning and waving to whoever it is he always waves to. Bloxham and Fletcher are leading the charge, Bloxham bouncing like a giddy teenager after a few ciders at a village fete with Fletch his suave mate. There's a Fletcher fist pump, like everything he does today, timed perfectly, then, brilliantly, a Bondo fist pump (which he equally brilliantly, mistimes) and then Evatt, slightly sheepishly has a go of his own, caught between the desire to let it go, cos Fletch has already done it and to live the moment, because fuck me, this sort of thing is a bit special, and what comes out is a kind of wave-fist pump hybrid that looks endearingly uncertain.  

--- 

This was the best game we've seen at Bloomfield Road for ages. I'm going to be uncharacteristically generous to the opposition and say, Cardiff more than played their part. This felt more like a championship game than a typical league one match, with two teams set up intelligently, plenty of technique on display and both sides willing to risk going forward. There was none of the 'sit deep, waste as much time as you can and just bang it forward' stuff here. It ebbed and it flowed and there were moments when, had BPF not been on the form he was, had passes had half a yard more on them, had forwards had a bit more composure then they could have been leaving with more than they did. 

They didn't leave with anything though, and we thoroughly deserved what we got - not because we nullified them completely - but because we made so many chances of our own - and that is what we have singularly failed to do this season. I'm pretty confident that we've already scored more goals from open play under Evatt than we did in the preceding months of the season - and that speaks to the fact that he's added structure, yes - but that he's also brought freedom and adventure - we have a squad of good players, so it makes sense that we should actually carry an attacking threat and even with only three games of this new regime behind us, it's feels increasingly mysterious as to how this lot managed to look so toothless and devoid of ideas and energy, when we've just seen a performance full of exactly what was missing previously. Who wants to watch frightened football where everything you do is about stifling the opposition? Not me - I want to see us like this, backing ourselves to score goals, not being terrified of the other side but looking to get into them, behind them, over them, around them, through them. Daring to risk losing to win games. That is precisely the exact football I love. 

We were excellent collectively. BPF and Fletch stood out for their contributions at the decisive points - but you can't play as well as this without everyone doing a job. Brown might have given the ball away more than anyone, but I loved his ability to see the pass he wanted to make and try it quickly - he was trying to set us away all the time and gave us tempo as a result and meant our possession deeper was still always looking to become attacking possession. Bowler, I've not been totally certain about as a central playmaker - but today, I think he put in as close to an 'all-round' performance as we've seen Josh Bowler give - he intercepted, he tackled, he pressed, he tracked and he looked a threat in the spaces he found. Hansson similarly, I really like his ability, but he's not really done anything up to this point - and today he slotted into Bowler's role and looked a threat and provided an assist - it is really positive that these two have given us something - because we recruited a squad of wingers, and now don't play with them, so it matters that they can adapt because (Bowler in particular) we can't afford to waste such talents. All things considered, I was probably most pleased for Bloxham, who has deserved that goal, not simply for his effort today, but his effort over the last three games and for BPF who looked, frankly, like the international football with top level pedigree he is and, after the stick he's taken, it's a joy to see the sea air working its magic on yet another castoff from elsewhere. 

It's one win, it's one performance, it's a long season and who knows where we can get to - but it's a template and it's a statement - it's proof that actually, we do have some real quality, we can play really good football and we can beat good teams. I didn't dare hope that it would be this good this quickly, I don't dare hope that we hit that level every week - but just knowing that we can makes all the difference in the world. It's only a football match but, for that experience today, the world seems a better place and that, really is the point of it all. 

Onward

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