Freezing, fragile, frustration - the Mighty vs Bradford City

There is snow on the motorway. It's Sunday. This is weird. 

I don't mind the line up - I can see an idea - Bradford a big and rugged side so we'd try to out football them, going for silk over steel. I could visualise Bowler nimbly dancing between lumbering limbs, spreading it to Banks to spin away from his man (he'd forced his marker deep by nature of his attacking threat), he'd sweep a cross field ball to Imray, who first time dinks a cross, Flettcher, ever aware, chests it down and Albie Morgan, thundering from deep rasps the ball home... 3-0 Pool!!! 

---

That, as we know wasn't how things turned out. Very, very little happened for ages. We tried to move the ball around, Bradford got in our faces, we turned around and went the other way. When we launched it long, they seemed pleased, their defence coping with ease with most things knocked up to them. Fleth and Blox have worked their arses off in the last few months - but they just really struggled to get the ball under control and we struggled to give them much ball at all. The few moments of potential excitement came from Bowler who mixed up a few really nice touches and passes with some frankly horrible turns into traffic and concession of the ball. 

A Bradford corner. They work it short, they are running a routine. I admire the quickness with which they shift it 4 or 5 times. This is a good routine I think. They lift it in and there it is. A goal. From a routine. It feels as if we just opened up. It feels like when we try such things someone falls over or dithers on the ball, or we hit the first man with the cross. Then Bradford nearly score again, a header over the bar from no distance. Then again, it looks as if they've scored but it's smuggled wide at the far post. They're absolutely battering us.

I'm quite cold. 

Finally, we creak into some sort of life. I say 'we' - I mostly mean Danny Imray. Scott Banks is no attacking threat at all and we're dependent on the Palace man for our penetration. Even he doesn't look to be firing on all cylinders, but he's involved in what is easily the best bit of football in the game, a multi pass move where we switch it about quickly, move beautifully and everything is briefly total football sexy until the final ball which is just behind Fletch who puts it well over the bar. Imray then hits the bar, seemingly by accident. At some point someone has a shot that, whilst the keeper has it covered, Curtis Tilt leaps full length and saves with his head, like a salmon leaping from a river and nodding a football. Shortly after that, he hits a crossfield pass deep into the stand. He's not changed... 

---

I'm a little surprised we're still in it. Recency bias is a terrible thing, we've looked off it for most of the 45 but as we've played our best stuff just before half time, I'm hopeful, however foolish that is. 

--- 

The first five minutes of the second half is truly awful. The clouds have gathered, the wind is picking up, it's biting cold. I go to zip up my coat and put up my hood only to discover I've already done both. There are times when watching league 1 football is a trial and this is one of them. Not only can neither side pass, but the linesman can't tell when the ball has gone out of play and the game is of no quality at all. It's like watching a toddler incoherently smash two things together and occasionally drop one of them. 

Finally, a moment - it's Andy Lyons who provides it, we play out, Lyons receives it on the turn, looks up and pings a perfect, curling ball, 40 yards, arcing right into the path of Fletcher who has split the central defenders, takes it in his stride, draws the keeper and then, as he's increasingly wont to do, finishes beautifully, a deft touch into the bottom corner, the keeper all hopelessly splayed legs and thrown arms, head thrown back to gaze despairingly as the ball rolls, coolly past him and sits in the netting. 

It would be nice to say we really kicked on from there - but it didn't happen. It's perhaps (definitely) churllish to criticise the substitutes when the options are what they are and there's so little other choice  but I thought, after the goal, the game became a bit chaotic and that we might actually benefit from that. We put on Brown for Bowler - I assume the intention was to dampen down the chaos a bit, but also I worried that it would blunt us, leaving Imray as the only bit of creativity and he's a fucking full back. CJ coming on for Banks was maybe an attempt to counter the pace of their wide man who'd pinned in Banks - but I hate CJ at full back... 

And lo, they score instantly. Ollie Casey is the most reliable of souls, but today, he gets turned, as so often, a loose ball, Bradford race in at full tilt, Casey toe pokes the ball, it's not hard enough to reach another Pool shirt and only serves as a perfect touch on for the Bradford man to race towards goal, CJ comes across - he gets there quickly enough, but when he arrives, he looks like a fragile twig in a flooded, raging stream, brushed aside by the rushing torrent of the Bradford forward who finishes clinically, the keeper having absolutely no chance at all. 

Fuck me. 

I've not got the will to describe the rest of the game in any depth. It mostly went... Blackpool finally get the ball, three passes later Bradford get it back. A variation on that was occaisionally, we'd find a vaguely hopeful position but then we'd cock it up with a crap cross, misplaced pass  or simply just running into one of their players as if not doing a trick might be the trick and Bradford would charge up the the other end with it...

Their fans sing 'Blackpool's a shithole' and then 'Bradford's a shithole, it's better than this' then 'City of Culture, you'll never sing that' which is a three part routine I can't help but admire grudgingly. They're loud in the way away fans are when they're winning. We're subdued. I can't see a way back. Around me is general silence. Glum faces stare on. 

I'm not sure we had another shot in anger until very late on, Morgan appears to foul his man, the ref plays on, the cross comes in, Ashworth hooks it back accross and (I think) Lyons bundles home... It doesn't count cos Ashworth's foot is deemed to be high and to be honest, it probably is. I realise before I get totally carried away and that probably helps deal with it. 

--- 

There's games I know I'm going to find it hard to write about. This is one of them. If we're really bad, it's easy to slip into hyperbolic descriptions of clown like shambles, big massive red shoe wearing idiots running into each other and falling over. If we're anywhere near any good, then it's a pleasure to go totally overboard, a CJ toepoke becoming a moment worthy of a Ballon D'or nomination, a routine tackle wrapped up in words of praise, becoming a moment of bravery and passion akin to some kind of WW1 trench heroics. If there's a lack of effort then anger takes over and total despair is a kind of empathetic release. 

It's the 'in between' games that are the worst, particularly the ones where, like today, we're mostly second best. Having missed the last two games, where there was plenty to describe for better and for worse, today feels a bit like looking out over a frozen wasteland and trying to describe the view. There's just not a lot to say.  We were beaten, we deserved to be beaten, we mostly tried quite hard, but Bradford were just better than us. 

What, I mean by 'better' is simple enough. They seemed  overall quite a lot bigger, mostly a bit faster and generally more decisive. In terms of actual quality football, there wasn't a whole lot in it. Neither side really strung a great deal together and no player on the pitch stood out as a Premier League player in waiting - in fact, if I tell you that Curtis Tilt was probably the player who most caught my eye, then (no offence to him - he was a player I really liked in tangerine) that says a lot about the level this game was played at. One point, he galloped from centre back to the edge of our box. I wondered two things, a) how easy it is to forget about a player, I'd totally forgotten about his mad runs and b) why if Tilt could run 40 or 50 yards looking like Jude Bellingham, could not of our actual attackers seem to carry the ball 10? 

This is the frustration. Bradford aren't bad - they work very, very hard and they're highly organised and insanely committed - but they look as if a good team should be able to get at them. Today, we didn't look like a good team - we looked like a threadbare, struggling side who simply didn't have the key to unlock the door, nor the answers to the question's that the Bantam's physicality and direct play posed. An objective reader might say 'We ARE a threadbare struggling side' and that would be true - but after a good run and players coming back from injury and just for a few weeks, it feeling as if we might, actually have something going on, today felt like going back to those miserable October days when week after week we just got swatted aside. 

Lets put it in perspective. We're missing some important players. Virtually all of the defence is makeshift and one of them is a winger with no palpable defensive qualities at all who is only playing because the other option is CJ. Only Imray started in the precise position he regularly plays in the Ian Evatt system. We're also missing Ennis and Taylor, which, would likely have been our main strike force (Ash Fletcher becoming England's third most productive front man not withstanding) - Some of the players have run into the ground for lack of rotation and the Christmas period is a gruelling schedule. 

It still looks a bit grim though. Ennis is probably a month away from being properly match fit and suitably sharp so the front two must soldier on or we play someone who is even less of striker than Bloxham up front. If Fletcher gets a knock, we could have literally no one who's a fulltime centre forward fit. Horsfall is out for some time. The Horse aside, we seem to lack so much character without Husband and we've got two more games where we're going to have to play someone completely unsuited at LWB if Ashworth continues to deputise centrally and even when Husband back, we don't really have the dominant lynchpin a back three requires

In short, we're short (again) and we need some players in quickly because to be being outplayed and have no real options to turn to and no defensive players of equal physicality to match up against their forwards isn't great and given the majority of League 1 sides have at least 3 or 4 players who can put it about a bit, then we need to address this. 

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 - 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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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. 

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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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

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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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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