Football Blog: Tangerine Flavoured

Monday, January 18, 2021

We need to talk about Sullay: Northampton Town match preview

A picture of some trickery and magic. Which players would you say this applies to in our squad? 

I don't normally do a match preview on the basis I've got nothing to say and others do them way better than I ever could. I am bored though and perhaps if I do a preview, the match blog won't run to the length of a short book which will probably to everyone's benefit to avoid. I do try every week to write a shorter one but the opposite happens. It's happening again already. Get on with it! (reader, I'm talking to myself)  

After the last match the conclusion was that it was all Sullay's fault we'd only gone and got a point at Hull. Seasoned readers will be aware I love Sullay and can see no wrong in anything he does. Despite that, even I can see he's not playing well at the moment, though I personally think he's done ok in his last two games (his cameo against WBA was fairly lively and despite the general consensus, I thought he wasn't that bad on Saturday.) 

Here's the thing though. He's really not a left winger. He's played ok on a few occasions there but just as if you put Dan Ballard at right back, Turton in midfield or Jerry Yates in goal, sooner or later, the returns are going to be diminishing. Sullay plays best behind a front man and he's really good at it on form. Really good. He drifts about, finds pockets of space and asks constant questions. He's got vision, can see a pass and execute it, ability to beat people like few players in the league and a decent shot. He'll at worst, occupy a defender or drag a midfielder back to track him. On the left, he just occupies a full back who is there anyway. 

I didn't really understand why he got picked in a game where we were going to require the wide players to track back as we were away from home. Now, don't get me wrong, I'd always pick Sullay but I'm a naive romantic who would try to win every game 10-0 and probably lose it by the opposite score. I'd be Ardiles at Tottenham, fervently believing if we can just attack enough, defence won't be needed. What I don't understand is why if you weren't me, with Mitchell, Garbutt and Gabriel all kicking their heels and potentially better suited to playing a cautious role on the left, you'd pick an out of form, out of position player who as good as he is, definitely has fragile confidence to play instead and ask him to a job he isn't especially good at as he really isn't very good at defending. I don't think he doesn't try. He's just a bit shit at it.  

Critchley seems simultaneously to really like Sullay's skill and also to have doubts about him. He benched him when Lubala arrived, only for it to be immediately obvious that Bez wasn't Sullay yet. He quite often takes off Sullay before others as he did on Saturday but he keeps coming back to him. It's as if he looks around at others and thinks 'yeah, but they can't do what he can do' and yet, despite his obvious if possibly grudging acknowledgement of his quality, he won't play him where he's best. 

Which brings me to Northampton. I don't usually do a preview largely because I don't like bluffing my way through pretending to know anything about the opposition. I don't know anything about Northampton this year either other than they're not doing great and Keith Curle is their manager. I could look some stuff up but until you start sending me money in the post to do so, fuck that for a laugh. 

The basic facts alone are enough to suggest this is a test. We've built up games against big sides as 'markers of where we are' and we've come through most of them with tremendous credit and yet, despite beating a good few sides at the top, we're not at the top. That's because it's sides that 'we should be beating' that cause us trouble. Sides with wiley pragmatic managers, who may well be happy with a point. We can't break them down. We're like a bull running at a wall, again and again until it falls over with a sore head. 

We've got a squad with very few 'useless' players. There's no Scott Dartons. You can argue about their merits, but there really aren't many if any of them. There's plenty of competent professional footballers and I'd argue, with the right players complimenting them, most of them could. as individuals. play a part in a successful side in League 1. You don't need 11 match winners to get promoted. It's fine to have some players who just do the simple stuff. 

You do need one or two though. 

You need players to create chances. You can do that in a simple way. We could play Garbutt and Gabriel on the left and right respectively, get crosses in early and get players around Madine. They can both cross and will make us nice and solid. It's about as far from the vision of Critchball we imagined in August as it's possible to imagine without thinking long and hard about John Beck's Cambridge having some kind of weird orgy with Dave Bassett's Wimbledon and producing a strange twisted offspring that gets raised by Bobby Gould who reads them all Charles Hughes coaching manuals every night at bedtime till finally they're big enough to go and play against Northampton.  

We could alternatively play Sullay somewhere on the pitch other than the left wing. Perhaps behind the front two? This would require a formation change and that's also quite hard to imagine. Critch likes to change players around but he's definitely never moved away from 4 at the back. It's quite possible to envisage Husband, Ballard and Marvin with Gabriel and Garbutt on the flanks, Dougall and Ward in midfield and Sullay in front of them, behind the Jerry/Gary dream team. 

That would be a prettier watch for sure. It would be an attacking side, balanced, full of intent. A confident looking selection that seems designed to push the other team back and ask a variety of questions. We can still cross it to big Gaz OR we can go short to the little tricky player who is hard to mark. Jerry likes to move about a lot too so those two could be a bit of a nightmare for a defence planning on just playing a tight line and heading it away a lot. 

Or we could just not play Sullay. 

That leaves me a bit worried though. With no CJ, who creates? Again, this isn't a criticism of the individual players but they lack, as a collective, the spark of the creator. Yates and Madine both rely on others. Neither of them is a tricky, twisting little striker who can run through a defence or a whippet whose pace makes every through ball dangerous whether it's any good or not. They both rely firmly on getting on the end of things, working hard or physical strength. They're both grand, but they're not going to make their own goals very often. 

In midfield, Dougall and Ward are both 'a bit' creative. Ward will knock a goal in from time to time, Dougall will play a nice pass quite often but they're first and foremost about energy, breaking up the play, keeping it simple. Garbutt can cross but he's not a flying winger. If he plays, you'd expect to see a lot of early crosses. It might work, but so far Critchley hasn't played a left midfielder on the left so it also might not even cross his mind. Mitchell is very fast but was bought as a left back. Gabriel is a real favourite of mine but he's a right back so it's a bit much to expect him to be the creative force on the flank. Bez is as yet unproven and Matty Virtue is another primarily functional player. He's got a shot, he likes to get forward but he's hardly spraying defence splitting passes every 10 minutes. Ethan Robson looks like he should be creative but doesn't actually create anything... Is there anyone else? 

Who offers a bit of mystery? Who could occupy a defence whilst the strikers find space? Who can thread a pass or change direction in a shuffle that sends the opposition one way whilst he goes the other? What player in the squad would you like to have picking it up 25 yards out and running into the box? What player in the squad thinks really quickly or acts instinctively when getting the ball in and around the edge of the area? What play can come deep and take possession of the hard working Ward and Dougall and turn it into threat? I can only think of one now Kemp (who also never played in the middle) has gone. 

Again - I'm not having a go at the squad. They're all good players but 21 goals is a low total and the evidence is there in the results. We've only beaten Swindon comfortably. No one else. We don't score enough goals and to be frank, we don't have striker who misses sitter after sitter. All strikers miss chances, but it's not like we're bemoaning Madine and Yates week after week for not hitting a barn door. We're simply not pressurising teams which is fine if they're any good and take the game to us (or not very good and do it as Swindon did) but if they don't, what do we do then? 

My love for Sullay isn't all emotional. I do like the lad cos I like players who are a bit different. I simply don't see his supposed 'bad attitude.' I see a player who isn't especially good at some things and very good at others being asked to play a role that doesn't suit him and whose shoulders go as a result. My love for him is also pragmatic. He's like no one else in the squad. 

Tomorrow, I see a game that we should be trying to win. We can try to win it by getting it wide and knocking it to big Gaz. That's fine by me, I'm no purist. It could very well be very successful. I just don't see in the squad another option other than Sullay to try and win it any other way if that's not working without a pacy forward or goals from elsewhere on the pitch. 

I could be wrong. I could be right. 

That's a preview. Don't expect one every week. You can (as I'm sure you're delighted about) expect another instalment of 'The FA Cup of Songs that contain team names but don't appear to be actually about the team itself though' the final rule of which which precludes this little nugget sadly.



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Saturday, January 16, 2021

Oddly distant - Hull City vs the Mighty

Deadly from a yard out... 

I've been to Hull or 'Big Fleetwood' as I like to wittily call it twice. It's a long way away. When you get to Leeds, you think 'ah, I'm nearly there' then there's about 3000 miles more to go, over flat repeating landscape that looks like a looping graphical background on an old fashioned computer game. Field, house, small village, copse of trees, field, house, repeat for hours till you see Hull itself looming grimly in the distance like that fishing port up the road that aren't our rivals on growth hormones. 

In a non partisan footballing sense, you have to admire a club who had a tiger print kit long before the fancy dan Man Utd came up with zebra print or City adopted a paisley grandma's curtains style, especially as it came when they were a bit shit and opened them up to mockery.You also sympathise with a side lumbered with such grim tin eared ownership as they are. In a partisan sense, you probably think, oh, fucking hell, Hull away.

You should be aware by now, I'm not a specialist in pre match analysis of the opposition so instead of analysing the City team, I'm instead going to offer the fact that in ( think) 2005? I took the (astonishingly still current) love of my life to Bloomfield Road for her one and only visit, enticed by the prospect of a half time pie. She said she enjoyed it, describing the experience of watching us play Hull in the league cup as 'surprisingly more like Glastonbury than I thought it would be, but with more angry fat blokes than hippies.' She has since rejected all offers to relive the wonder of football. I don't know why. 

So that's that. Here's another thing I've been thinking about. What about an FA Cup of songs that mention team names? Could we establish the best song that isn't an official 'team song' but mentions the name of a football team in the title? Does this matter? Probably not. Does anything matter. It's a matter for debate. Hull City are the first side I've had the opportunity to mention this thanks to the whimsical late 90s indie stylings of Salako who recorded the track below which will compete against local boys made good, Membranes.  




It's a clear Blackpool victory. The post punk stylings of the Sandgrown cultural heavyweights triumph over a long forgotten band who were probably named after a Crystal Palace winger. The first result in the FA Cup of songs that include the names of football teams is 'Salako - Hull City Tiger 0 - 1 Membranes - A Murmuration of Starlings on Blackpool Pier' 

After all that delightful fun filled intro, do we really need the match report? With this sort of high quality feature, packed full of cutting edge football facts, you've got to question whether you really need that Sky subscription don't you? 

Anyway. No CJ, No Kemp means Matty V will probably add a bit of bite and Ward maybe go wide. But wait! What is this?! Sullay and Bez?!? Together! On the pitch! In the same team! From the start?! I'm not sure why I'm so surprised cos Critch is unfathomable but it feels a bit like putting two volatile chemicals together that should kept in separate areas of the lab. This could be mental. Either we'll maraud forward fearlessly, raining shots on goal or we'll be left with Kenny Dougall doing midfield on his own as Ward, Bez and Sullay run into hopelessly defenders like lemmings. I'm excited at the prospect of the former. He who dares wins and all that. I hope Matty V is warmed up and ready from the start as this will either work or it won't. 

So, with my apologies for the length and sheer irrelevance of 90% of the intro, we're off!  

---- 

First question is which way round will Sullay and Bez play - it looks like Bez on the right and Kaikai on the left. This is a bigger ground by League 1 standards and it's a quirk of bigger grounds that they make the ball seem to move slower in the air. Not much happens in the opening phase. Bez plays a neat ball from deep. Yates gets caught offside. Madine lays it off for Sullay who inexplicably just runs straight past it. It is Sullay and Madine however that cause the first flutter of the heart as Kaikai is wide, he runs at his man, makes as if to beat him, but crosses as the defender commits to the tackle. It looks for a second as if Madine might turn it home, but he's squeezed out of it and the ball is hacked away. 

A couple of big Gaz lay offs don't quite work. He nods to Sullay who gives it him back, a well weighted quick return but the Goal Machine can't find a shot or a pass. Then he nods to Bez who looks like he might go right through, but gets all tangled up in himself and misses the chance to slide it square to the unmarked Kaikai loitering just on the edge of the box. It's been all Pool, hardly dominant, but definitely more in control till a shot from the angle on the right hand side draws a sharp save from Maxwell who should stop it, but does well to hold it as it skips off the the turf. 

The game is settling down into a bit of a pattern. Hull are letting us have the ball and we're knocking it about and probing. They're trying to hit us directly when we surrender possession. From one of those quick breaks, they work it right and a low cross is well cut out by Maxwell sticking out a boot, kind of sitting down as he stretches to cut out a chance with two hull forwards goal side of their men and waiting to tap it in. 

Having had that attack, the Tigers are keen to pen us in (see what I did there) and go snarling (sorry, I did it again) into tackles as we try to get out. They create a chance from a similar angle as the previous, tight to the left touchline, whipping a free kick across. Maxwell punches and there's a moment where it looks like it's dropping perfectly for a return shot with Maxwell out of position but it just doesn't fall for their player quite right. The pitch is a bit of pudding, it's not really awful but it's just not bouncing quite as anyone wants.  

When we do get out, it's a lofted ball to Madine, who cushions a perfect header to Sullay. The enigma hits it on the half volley from 20 yards and it's inches wide. It looks like it might have glanced off Yates on the way though which could have just touched it wide. Hull respond with a break of their own as Ward slips, they're storming through the middle, riding the desperate challenges and looking very dangerous but they can't find the right final ball as the cross is screwed beyond everyone. Pool go direct again and Madine has a snapshot from the edge of the box then Ward does similar at the end of a nice move, gaining the chance to shoot from another Big Gaz flick on.

The Tigers attack again, a move that starts with a poor header from Ballard and consists of some lovely football, surprisingly angled passes that leave the Pool defence chasing shadows, but fortunately are also ultimately a bit too advanced for the Hull forwards and for all the lovely play, there's no real threat on the seaside goal in the end. 

Madine is being grappled for what seems like about 10 seconds before the ref blows. From the free kick, Sullay arrows it deep, beyond the far post, Madine stretches, knocks it back and Marvin collects and looks to have a go, but at the same point, Turton's momentum carries him into the path of both the ball and his team mate and the ball bobbles wide. A great chance which fell to the two players probably most ill suited to take it. 

As half time ticks round, Hull get themselves a free header, from a free kick, curled in from just outside the left hand corner of the box. It looks a nightmare moment, but the Hull forward gets under it and it sails comfortably over the bar. 

--- 

It's been an odd game. Moments of intensity but a sense that both sides are happy to let the other team have it and play on the counter. There's been some nice football but nothing consistently good enough to take control of the game. The play has gone in phases, one side, then the other having a little move or two. Sullay has done ok in my view. It's probably his fault that the Capitol building got stormed and Covid rates are what they are, but I make it three moments in which he's been a key part of a chance and he also tracked back and stopped a Hull move after Husband had been played around. Bez has struggled to impose himself but probably contributed a bit more deeper overall than Sullay has. I'd be wondering if Matty V would work a bit better in terms of taking control of the midfield, though his lack of pace means he's less of a threat on the counter which is how the game has been played so far. 

Dougall has prompted well, Madine looks like a class act again and Big Marvin is on Rolls Royce form. I've still got a slight but undeniably gnawing anxiety about the game though. I think Critch needs to do something, but I can't quite pin down what it is. 

Something raucous plays through the tannoy at half time. The clatter a contrast to the relatively studied (by League One standards) nature of the game so far. 

---

We start with a corner that looks fairly harmless but is flicked on at the near post but can't quite be turned home at the far post, Madine twisting himself, trying to fold himself like someone bending a stiff envelope but he's unable to apply enough of himself to turn it goal ward. Pool follow this up with a nice period of possession which feature some silkly play between Madine and Dougall in midfield, a lovely trick from Sullay that just fails as the ball runs an inch out of play. Fine margins. 

Then my anxiety is proved to be well founded. Hull go down the right, out pacing Husband, it's put across for Mcguinness who is squeezed out of it but still manages to gets a foot on it and lays it back for the unchallenged Wilks to lash it home on the diagonal right into the bottom corner. 

Hull dominate for 3 or 4 minutes until we finally break and Sullay goes on a run and draws a foul. He takes the kick himself and fizzes a weird dipping ball to no one, leaving Marvin running after it gamely as it goes for a throw, looking like a cricket fielder who knows the ball is going for four but has to try anyway. 

Matty V is coming on. It's Sullay coming off though. Not sure I concur cos I bloody love Sullay and Bez has done nowt, but a change is clearly needed as Hull have dominated since our early chance. Virtue's introduction prompts a nice passing move but we can't make a cross from it, let alone a shot and the move ends as Bez tries to beat his man by going from side to side for a bit then pushing him over and the referee's whistle hands possession back to the Tigers. 

Hull win a free kick wide left, about 15 yards from the goal line. It's delayed by Bez being injured and  Ben Woodburn coming on. When it's finally taken, it's whipped across dangerously but no one gets a head on it and Pool regroup again. C'mon! Woodburn lofts it in it , it seems to fall for Madine, but it just bounces through to the keeper. Woodburn does well to pick up a loose ball, Dougall bursts through and is pulled back. Woodburn stands over over the free kick, then lifts it deep, but too deep... then Ward does well wide and gets to the byline, swerving a low dangerous, bouncing ball in. It's hacked away. It's a bit better from Pool. 

Pool pass for what seems like ten minutes and finally work a throw out wide, level with the penalty area. It's cleared and we started all over again, another thirty seconds passing around before Woodburn sets Husband away but his cross goes between everyone and it's a Hull goal kick. We're playing football but it looks like Hull don't really mind us doing so. 

Another spawny hand ball is given against us, it's Virtue's turn to be penalised for not playing football with his hands behind his side like a penguin. Happily for both us and wor Matty, the free kick is decent but only decent enough to clip the bar. 

Then just as it feels like it's getting hopeless and Hull are more likely to score... more good stuff from Woodburn who has added a bit of energy. Burke slips on the dicey pitch, Woodburn nicks it and hares through the middle, bearing down on goal. The defender is desperately chasing but not catching him and scythes him down. It's a clear red, especially as the player has already been booked. It's also a dangerous free kick. Big Gaz is over it, still on a high from the worlds greatest penalty last week. He strolls up like he's going to put bin bag out on Sunday morning, then he absolutely lashes it over the wall but sadly, it's over the top of the bar as well. 

Woodburn causes more trouble, stretching to reach a Madine knockdown and winning a corner. Woodburn takes, there's a deflection which sends it past there far post, Madine lashes it back in to the danger area, Husband has a go, then Yates lashes it home from an inch out. He's barely had a sniff today, but now he's the hero.

More Pool subs now as Critch is going for it, Robson, Garbutt and Gabriel on for Husband, Turton and Ward. 

A really mistake ridden 3 or 4 minutes ensues as Hull dig in and challenge Pool to make a chance. We don't rise to that till Gabriel takes his man on wide and wins a free kick as his legs are taken. Big lads in the middle jostle and Woodburn delivers. It's lovely ball and Ballard charges in, gets to it with a defender and it goes just wide... 

The game reverts to the previous pattern, Hull frustrating us. Madine lays off to Woodburn but he can't quite take it, he sees it and does the right run, but the ball doesn't quite go as quickly as he needed and he ends up leaving it behind. Gabriel has an insane run, sprinting, falling, scrambling, spinning and somehow getting into the box, going past, over, under and through about 4 players and against all odds, gets in a position to shoot, but the ball is taken off his toes and it's a corner which comes to nothing.  

4 minutes of injury time and we play nice triangles, Woodburn gets a cross in, again, showing intent to get to a ball that looked like it was going out and pulling it back, Gabriel goes on another run and is sent literally cartwheeling by their full back. We're trying, but we don't look like getting through. We have one last chance to load the box up, it's pumped in, sent out again, Woodburn touches off to Garbutt, who hits a nicely shaped but easily cleared cross. The header away falls to Virtue who shapes to shoot, but the ball doesn't sit up right on the spongy pitch and the ref has seen enough... 

--- 

A point is a point away at a high flying team. I thought Woodburn did well when he came on and offered a lot and we were the better team at the end but it wasn't a game I especially enjoyed. I don't know if it was the match itself or the camera angle but it felt like I was distanced more than normal. We had chances that objectively were quite decent but aside from Sullay's effort and the build up to Super Gaz's free kick, none of them seemed to really quicken my heart rate in the way that they normally would. 

It's more evidence of what we know - we're solid enough, in fact, we're really solid and we can play some nice stuff without creating enough, Gary Madine is decent but we struggle to consistently pressure teams. That sounds a bit negative but whilst we've got to be pleased with taking 4 points from Hull over the season we've also got to find a way of playing that is more convincing going forward if we want to beat poorer sides who will pack the defence. This has been essentially the same conundrum for the last two seasons and maybe January will bring the answer. 

There's only so many times you can dissect the same team and come up with fresh answers. I really want Bez to come good, but I don't think the right flank is his natural habitat. I didn't think Sullay did especially badly but he got hauled off again and Critch shows no sign of ever playing him more centrally where he's best. Woodburn's decent showing is probably timely as we definitely miss CJ and no one has really put their hand up to replace him yet, so perhaps the Liverpool lad has a shout at starting if the talismanic sprinter isn't fit yet. 

Northampton next. Let's rip them to bits. Sullay double hat trick please. 

utmp

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Friday, January 15, 2021

IS football good for our mental health?


A happy person - remember them? 

So football goes on. In the midst of a raging zombie attack. With the population hiding in their cellars, surviving on the mould that grows on their walls. With condensation forming on the ceiling, with the air turning stale, with the outside world silent, footballers must face the music and dance, out there in the open. With nothing but a nylon shirt and a sponsor's branding for protection against the horrors. 

Why? Apparently, because (in shock news) it's good for the nation's mental health! Football is the new banana bread or Joe Wicks. It's yoga and singing opera from your balcony in Italy in the face of adversity. It's uplifting, entertaining and diverting. It gives a structure to the week, just a little something to look forward to, a topic for discussion, a way to distract ourselves from the existential crisis we're all suffering from discovering 21st century humankind is actually as prone to disease as rabbits or Victorians.

Whilst I don't really know if football should go on, what with being a shit blogger who couldn't be arsed with science and that on the grounds that it's a bit difficult, I do agree that football is pretty good. It's one of the only places you can go in society and shout 'fuck' at the top of your voice for example without being labelled a wrong un', and for that reason alone, it's cathartic and purifying. It's a social space, a rare gathering point for disparate people, one of the few places you can put down your identity and just be part of a crowd. It's a soap opera, a history lesson and a meditation in one. Imagine a whispering voice telling you to 'follow the ball, just follow the ball, let it all go and just follow the ball, lose yourself in the movement, the bounce, feel the ebb, the flow, become at one with the game' and you might wonder why anyone pays money for a guru or a therapist. That all sounds shit and I'm gonna kill myself if I turn into Nick Hornby, but I really do like football.

So, I suppose I agree. It's a good thing for people's mental health. The twinkling delight in Ian Wright's eyes as he surveyed Marine's tiny Rosset Park ground and declared it 'perfect' says so much about the game's capacity to beguile, even in this bizarre season. The 3rd round of the FA cup, breath steaming in the darkening skies, the possibility of history in the air. What else could you possibly want from life but to suspend your disbelief and absorb yourself into the chaos of a game, result unknown and just see what happens next? 

For me, as a Blackpool fan, the most recent weekend has been one of elation, West Brom dispatched, a superb game, a superb performance that means can extend our delusion just a little bit longer, this might be our season. We know, deep down it won't but we close our eyes and envisage Wembley just because we can. Because why not? 

This has been literally the only good thing that's happened to me this week. Everything else has been at best, humdrum mediocrity and at worst, really not very good at all. I'm not having a particularly bad time of it, in fact, I'm having a fairly good time of it by the standards of plenty, but recent events have tested my patience - being able to do literally nothing and see virtually no one is an endurance test and like everyone else, I mourn simple pleasures denied, I yearn for the chance to explore, to travel and to see people I miss. The one thing I look forward to is 3pm Saturday (or 7pm/7.45pm Tuesday) as at least I'll be sharing that, yes, at a distance, yes from behind a screen, yes, with buffering problems and terrible commentary but none the less, sharing that experience with others is one of the few points of reference that makes me feel anything other than housebound, trapped, isolated and disconnected.  

So, yeah, football is good for my mental health for the reasons outline above and more. It's not just about the winning either. If we'd have lost to the Baggies, there'd still have been everything else, the shared purpose, the conversation, the escapism of the game. We'd have moaned and moaning is good for the soul sometimes. I don't enjoy games where we lose as much but I never wish I hadn't gone. Well, almost never. If we were struggling with relegation, there'd still be the possibility of escape. If we were doomed, the question of how we change things next year. Football is there, even when it's shit. 

For the vast majority of the multiple millions of attendances recorded in a normal English football season it isn't about basking in reflected glory. It's just about taking part in something. Most teams, my own included don't offer that much glory on a regular basis. It's important to remember that far more people don't watch Liverpool or Manchester City, Manchester United or Chelsea than do. It's about the same thing sport has always been - the atmosphere, the event, the sense of something live that is in deeply short supply at the moment. The prospect of glory, is of course, part of the thrill but for most fans of most teams, glory is only a fleeting, occasional experience. 

But here's the kicker. You probably knew it was coming. If football IS all these things why is it so poorly managed? If it has such innate value to so many, why is it run in an irresponsible way, in what looks like a structure set up to shore up the value and profile of a few clubs at cost of the either the competitiveness or the financial security of so many others. The very week, we've discovered that Burnley have been flogged to people that are leveraging debt to get their hands on them. We've seen the latest takeover attempt at Wigan collapse and talk of Latics moving to Leigh Sports Village, we've heard about Sheffield Wednesday not paying players whilst Derby seem to be hovering on the edge of disaster or takeover by yet another consortium from Mars or somewhere.

These are but a few of the stories we've been subjected too that suggest that the game is not looking after itself too well. These aren't 'little' clubs either. These are, in some cases big clubs, with histories that stretch back centuries, with league titles, European runs, cup wins, international players and crowds of many thousands swaying on packed terraces in their history. There's no lack of demand for football in Sheffield, Burnley, Derby or even to a lesser extent, Wigan. These are historic, important clubs that matter to hundreds of thousands of people just as my club matters to me. These shouldn't be clubs that are under threat. Yes, every club matters and all of that, but you do reach a point where if one man and his dog aren't interested, you won't have a basis to run a team but this isn't the issue for any of the clubs I list.  

Yes, Covid hasn't helped but none of the concerns at the clubs above are really especially Covid related. They show clubs who were in trouble before Covid and remain so, or highlight the nature of modern football ownership and how easy it is for a club to slip into the hands of those who may or may not treat them with carelessness, as an ego trip, as a toy, or with a sociopaths disdain. 

So, I'd love to ask those who run football - if football is so important, if a nations' mental health is propped up by the game, why is it run so crudely? 

The thing is, it's easy for football (plc) to reply that the game is 'just a business' and as with any other business, risk is the yin to the yang of reward. Possibly that's true. Perhaps that's just the way it is. Here's the thing though -  Football (plc) can't have it both ways...  

On the one hand football wants to be an extension of free market capitalism, with clubs free to trade on the open seas, taking whilst swashbuckling risks and who cares if one or two or ten should founder on the rocks of debt and ambition if another finds the golden treasure.

On the other hand, it also wants to be the keeper of the nations flame, the forces sweetheart, the light in the darkness, the helping hand and friend to the lonely, the tired and the disenchanted, a special case because of its unique spiritual hold on the psyche of millions. A kind of church for everyone, an exemption beyond the description of 'mere business' 

Which is it football? You can't have it both ways... 

I confess a kind of cognitive dissonance about the continuation of football. I see and engage in the extended community around my own club. The fund raising, the humour, the shared conversation, the support extended to strangers, simply because they follow the same team. All of this is real. All of this is important. All of this is enabled by football's existence. I personally, selfishly perhaps, want something to look forward to. I want to part of the game, even if it football now is like comparing a microwave meal to the gourmet banquet of the real thing. 

But... I'm also a little bit cynical about football's sudden status as an important pillar of the nation's mental health regime and suspect that, as John Nicholson writes persuasively in this piece, that the true reason we're continuing is because the data and gambling industries need football to continue as much as football needs football to continue, because television contracts need football to continue, because the bloated and often boring football media needs football to continue because without football all the boring people who talk and write boring things about football wouldn't have anything to do. 

This is also a boring piece by a boring and often bloated writer, so I'll try and move it towards a pithy conclusion. If football really is awakening to it's role in the lives of the supporters. If it really has had an epiphany about its function as a kind of public service, a conduit for communication, for expressing a sense of place, for venting frustrations, for cathartic releases of emotion, for joy and for connecting with others, then it also should be aware of its duty to sort its own house out, to safeguard its structure and its clubs. It should make some decisions that move it from endlessly trying to colonise the world's TV markets towards ensuring that the broad game not only survives but prospers. Yes, the 'big match' is shown live in 95 countries across 5 continents, but Wigan or Sheffield Wednesday fans are still staring down a barrel. It's great that people in Ghana support Arsenal and all very lucrative but is that as important as whether people in Wigan or Bolton or Oldham or most poignantly Bury have a team to watch at all? 

Nothing has been put in such stark relief in recent times (in the world of football) as the fact that games need fans to really be a spectacle. The game limps on, powered by largely by the memories of the past. It's diminished and dulled and yet, having lived through an undeniable demonstration of the way that the supporter is really part of the spectacle, not a mere spectator observing it, you don't really get any sense that anyone in the game is serious about listening to the concerns of the supporters or that troubled by the storm of crisis clubs as long as the big 6 keep up the good work on TV. 

Millions are still spent, wages continue to be the stuff of eye watering obscenity, kick off times will still be all over the place when 'normal' shuffles back in to place, the same clubs will still shout loudest when the rules are laid out and still demand more even when handing themselves riches beyond belief. The game will still function as a way to create millionaires of its stars (perhaps justifiable at a push) and the hangers on (definitely less so) 

The CEO of Manchester United earns £3.2 million a year. That's an astonishing amount. I'll steal a point from Kieran Maguire (of 'Price of Football' fame) here - if Manchester United are serious about mental health, then they could start by paying their lowest paid staff a living wage. I'll expand with a few stats of my own. Ed Woodward earns abut the average wage for a Premier League player. If you think 'fuck, me, Ed Woodward earns a lot' - then every single player on match of the day earns about the same. I've written reams about how that impacts on football as a whole and how that destabilises the game's finances at lower levels so I won't repeat that here, but at least the players provide some entertainment from time to time. What the fuck has Ed Woodward ever done that's been of any use to football at all? For one Ed Woodward, you could employ 2 entire League 2 playing staffs and have money left over for a few extra squad members. Again, why? What has Ed Woodward done for anyone that has entertained in the slightest or improved anyone's life in any meaningful way? 

How do we square the moral and philosophical status football has decreed upon itself with the wasteful and self destructive burning of piles of money in pursuit of 'global market leadership?'  It's like saying BP are good for the nation's spirit or declaring Barclays a church. Football has bled dry its followers for decades. Shifting itself behind a paywall, rising ticket prices, effectively socially cleansing many of those whose Victorian equivalents those who gave birth to the professional arm of the game. Relentlessly drowning out the domestic games of less prosperous nations with transfer raids and wall to wall TV coverage and hype. There a good people in the game and the game does good, but it's hard not to feel that those good people are drowned out and the good the game does is sometimes a minimum if deliberate and an accident if not.

There is, without question, enough money in the game to support the existence of a broad pyramid and to advance the place of football as a participatory sport for all who wish to engage. We can see from the money that does 'trickle down' in terms of community funding, the power football has to shape lives. We can see in education programmes, anti knife initiatives, health drives and more, that people who can be hard to reach can respond to football (for more on this, read the excellent Adrian Tempany.) The frustration is, that whilst yes, some money does make it to some incredibly worthy causes, at the same time, some of the clubs that have the power to make a difference in communities are being endangered. What good is a community trust without a club? How much does supporting a side whose financial structure is built on sand or whose ownership have allowed debt to get out of control or whose owners are downright set on asset stripping the club and locked into a self destructive spiral of spiteful, petty, deliberate mismanagement and delusional statements (remember, I'm a Blackpool fan, we've not always had the nice Mr Sadler...) really support anyone's mental health? 

Having written this incoherent spleen venting polemic, I'm not sure if 'football plc' is good for the mental health of people or not. The conversation, the community initiatives, the collective spirit and community of a football club isn't generated by the business of football. It's generated by the fans themselves and it would exist whether or not Ed Woodward, or the top flight players got paid £3.2 million a year. If you're lucky enough to support a club like mine, you might have an owner who seems understand the value of that but many don't (and lets be honest, ours didn't come easy!) With or without the owner, the fans remain resolutely the same people. For the Premier League in particular with all its cynically accrued and ill used wealth, it's naked greed and self serving hyperbole to be trading off the idea of performing some virtuous act of kindness to the nation leaves me cold.  

Then, for all of that, it's Hull away tomorrow and I can't wait. It's all we've got. That's the rub. We need it. But what we've learned since March, is they need us too. It's a mutual affair and the state of play whereby we get ripped off and they get ever richer whilst more and more teams look shakier and shakier is, for all the world, ours to change.

When they open the doors, we need to remember how much the game needs us. All of us. Whatever the shirt, whatever the team. We need to realise our collective power. It's them that told us how much it matters in order to keep it going. Lets show them exactly how much it matters to us. To all of us. They need us, we don't need Ed Woodward or any other over priced, over paid, over rated, self appointed guardian of the game.

We are the game. We understand what we want. We don't need a stupid financial structure that is set up to cripple the ambition of small town teams and keep the riff raff away from trophies. We don't need to give a fuck about the marketability of the British game in developing nations. We don't need tunnel clubs and £90 seats or any of that. We don't need Monday night soccer or VAR that renders the experience baffling for the match goer. We don't need 80% of the stadium sold out to hugely expensive season tickets or block bought seats for tourist fans on package weekends. We don't need these or many other things they want to keep giving us. All we need is football. It's football that is good for us. Nothing else. They don't think we matter really. 

But they need us. That's what we have learned. They need us. 

Head up lads and lasses. Keep going, it's shite all of this but we'll get through it. 

If you make it to the end -  thanks for reading. Keep safe. 



Postscript: 

Whilst 'researching' this blog (i.e. looking for a picture) I discovered a computer game called 'Death Penalty Zombie Football' it seems apt to share it. Zeitgeist or something. 



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Saturday, January 9, 2021

THAT PEN THO: The Mighty vs West Brom


"If he doesn't stop pissing about, I'm going to take his head off..." 

It's been *a bit of a week* - lives turned upside down by lockdown, an attempted coup in the self styled home of the free world, a rampant virus knocking on our doors, circling our homes, filling hospital wards like a horror film come to life and on top of all that, my kettle broke leaving me brewing up with a pan like a student from the 1980s. 

Football yes? Football no? I don't know. Should we be playing? Maybe not. Do I need this though? Fuck yeah! Lets chuck out morality, the ambiguity of right or wrong, the many shades of grey in between and just say 'C'mon you POOOOOOOOOOL' - It's the FA Cup, which is the BEST cup and we're in it to win it. We're up for the cup and frankly, up for ANYTHING that takes our minds of the sack of shite that resembles life at the moment. 

Can we beat the Baggies/Throstles/Albion/WBA/West Brom? (why do they have so many names - is there any other team you can write down in so many ways?) - I don't really watch the Premier League anyway so my guess is as good as that of a Japanese soldier who has been hiding out in the jungle since WW2. They've got Big Sam and he knows his way around a line up, but I suspect he won't give a flying fuck about the cup as it doesn't really fit into his main mission - survival. We'll see. 

For Critchley, I think a cup run is more of a goal. We're a work in progress. At times ace, at times tepidly mediocre, and often in between the two. A good cup run would give us belief. We've been better against the better teams and poor against the more brutal, stodgy sides. What will West Brom be? Based on the way that Allardyce is (possibly unjustly) characterised, we can expect a side that are good at being stodgy and brutal, kind of like Wycombe on steroids, but you suspect some of their individual players will be mad for it, given as they're playing for their futures with a new boss and all that. 

Critch brings in Maxwell and the Viking is back to partner Ballard for the first time, Jimmy Husband is in for Garbutt and excitingly Bez plays - he's good and bad within thirty seconds of each others, but I can't help feeling that if you leave him on the pitch for a bit, something will happen sooner or later. It might be a 30 yarder into the top corner, it might be a slice into the corner flag, it might be both, but it won't be boring. 

---

There's proper applause for those we've lost in the last year and then we're away... Pool have the first decent move, little triangles that end up with an offside flag. I wonder if Sam might look at Gary Madine as he wins an early flick on and think 'oh aye, if I can't have Kevin Davies trundling about at the top any more, this lad would do...' 

Critch looks to have bit of a face on about something. I don't know what it is, but he just looks irritated. Perhaps wor Gaz cracked a nasty joke about not being able to tell him and Sammy Lee apart? Madine wins another flick on. The refracted sun coming over the corner of the South West stand gives everything a dream like quality. Madine does a Cruyff turn. Grant Ward and Kemp both drop passes short of their target.

West Brom have a go, coming down the left, pulling the ball across. Ward nips in and the ref blows up anyway. Madine takes it down and has a go from distance. He's started like he's had the same thought about portly Sam as I have. He controls, back to goal and lays off to shirtless Jerry who slaps it a long way wide from a long way out. 

Bez has a nice little run, where he ghosts past 3 in his own half, it comes to nothing but is part of a good bit of possession that eventually culminates in a Grant Ward cross that is manfully defended, Madine, for just about the first time, not able to get his head on a ball in his general vicinity. 

It's not a classic so far. The Baggies are halted twice on forward forays, once by the flag and then by the Viking and Ballard sandwiching a forward chasing a through ball. We have a little foray, Kemp with a nice give and go, touching off for Turton then racing down the right flank after Turton's lofted pass but his ball across is charged down.

West Brom are hitting the heart of the defence, driving balls at the centre halves as if hoping for a mistake from one of them. Madine heads away from almost under the bar from a free kick we concede after getting tangled up playing out. The ball comes back though and they strike it across the face of goal and just past the far post. A warning. 

Ward spots up a free kick at the other end, swinging it deep, Bez has pulled wide, he twists himself to get goalside and nods it back, Ballard swivels from the corner of the six yard box and lashes it but it's rising and lands somewhere around the 'D' of Armfield in the seats. I'm musing to myself that Grant Ward's beard makes him look a bit like looks a bit like a terracotta warrior as Maxwell makes a good save from a WBA freekick, stepping, once, twice and springing in his agile way, to claim the ball with both hands. to his left. 

They have a move in which Krovinovic shows the first sign of 'Premier League quality,' (tm - every Sky commentator in every game ever) dropping his shoulder and selling the whole defence a dummy. The move breaks down though and Pool counter, Dougall, to Yates, to Madine. The Goal Machine fouled and the moment is over. It's all a bit like that really. Everything that starts breaks down. 

Bez tests their right back for pace, he's just about quick enough. Kemp controls on the edge of the box, but it's a hand ball. Neither side really on top, West Brom playing slightly higher. Krovinovic then pulls another moment out, picking it up in space, quite deep but then surprising every with a dipping, swirling drive that goes just over. A clever free kick slips away Grosicki, he's got space but can't make the cross count. He looks like he should have played a Chernobyl fireman on the HBO series. Krovinovic has another go and again it worries Maxwell, who beats away a swerving, fizzing effort. WBA are on top. 

Then it changes, a 180 switch in the flow of the game. Grant Ward picks it up and strides forward, loping gracefully into space and finding Madine ahead of him. They've got players back and the goal machine is lonely but Madine is calm, just skipping sideways, buying a little space, waiting for support, then feeding Bez on the left who goes to the byline, then slides it across, Kemp goes to the near post but is shielded from the ball but there, at the far post is Jerry Yates, to smash it home just beyond the reach of the keeper. It felt like a goal was coming, for all the world, it felt like it was going to go the other way. 

---

It's been a bit ugly, but fuck that, we're winning - imagine the rousing applause at half time. They've looked the more likely, but we've scored the goal. The biggest plus is Bez getting involved in a crucial moment and us sticking to the task. We've not been bullied, we've stood our ground and the goal was well created. 

--- 

The second half nearly begins with a repeat of our goal, WBA repelled by the goal machine again doing defensive work, nodding away on the edge of the box, Ward is then running into space but is hauled down by Gallagher, a cynical foul by a man with a precocious amount of hair, it's not just the length but the sheer thickness of it that catches the eye. Pool nearly make it count anyway as the free kick is lifted long, Madine wins the ball again at the other end of the pitch and Yates is just edged away from the knock down on the edge of the six yard box. 

The Baggies cause a few jitters, we try to play through them a few times. Ollie Turton doesn't get a shout and ends up causing a scare, putting a ball over his own bar from a cross. From the corner, it's worked short then swung across, where Ajayi rises above Husband and glances past Maxwell. It's probably fair on the balance of play but who thinks like that really? It stings. Sam reacts to the goal impassively as if he's beyond surprise or emotion, as if football is just a mechanical act. Critchley wears an expression of someone doing a difficult cryptic crossword clue. 

Ballard tidies up as WBA advance down the middle. Yates is whistled as he tries to nick the ball on the edge of their box. Come on Pool! Jimmy Husband crosses, Madine leaps, gets under the ball and loops it on to the top of the crossbar. Turton and Ajayi clash, with a brilliant burst of 'fucking hell!' coming from the speakers as he tumbles. Gallagher slaps one over the top from a good position. 

Pool have a lovely move, holding possession for a good minute or two after a couple of West Brom subs disrupts their flow, before finally, neat passing and movement sees Turton away on the right, one touch to control, several strides forward then an evil curling ball into the box, as good as you good wish, Yates comes towards it on a diagonal run, angles himself to glance it home but the ball comes off at an odd angle and rolls harmlessly wide. That could have been *the chance*.

But what's this? It's Kemp, to Yates, to Madine, all one touch, right down the middle, the Goal Machine is no sprinter but he makes it and takes it first time, a beautiful finish, just rolling it from 20 yards into the one spot the keeper can't reach. Critch goes mental, skipping like new born fawn frollicking in a spring meadow. Sam chews gum like a sulky cow in the next field. 

The game goes back to how it was before. The sky is a dramatic purple backdrop above the Kop as West Brom press, winning the odd corner, swinging the odd elbow into Madine's face. Bez's race is run, his last act to throw himself at a cross at the far post and Sullay is on, his first act, one of those ridiculous feats of close control in the corner that make us all wish he could just do that every time he gets it. 

The the referee fucks it all up. A stupid decision in the stupid fucking modern football way, a cross from wide striking Turton on the arm, he doesn't raise it in response to the cross, it's just where it is in the course of his natural movement. It's the sort of thing where people say 'the ref had no choice' but clearly, they do. They could ignore that stupid rule and it would go away eventually. Even portly Sam agrees it's harsh. Pereira does a stupid little pony trot and puts it bottom corner. Even penalty saving miracle man Sam Walker wouldn't have stopped that. Fucking hell.  

20/21s unluckiest Pool player Matty Virtue comes on for Kemp and scores instantly but it's offside. The Baggies come forward with menace, we break in response. A chance falls to Ollie Turton of all people. You can guess where it ends up. C'mon Pool!

Virtue controls well on the edge of the box and drives it just wide. C'mon! Maxwell is whacked taking a cross, the ref whistles. Turton again slashes an effort wide. We're into injury time as Pool work lovely triangles on the right and earn a corner, Madine nods down again, Yates spins but kicks air and it goes wide... We're even deeper into it when Dan Ballard cuts out a dangerous cross at the near post from a left wing run by the Baggies.

Full time. We was robbed. Fuming. 

---

Marvin is for on for Dan Ballard. 

We start with a corner, it's nodded away. Sullay picks it up and plays a curling, inswinging ball to die for that somehow, no one reaches. Yates, slips in Madine, who forces a sharp near post save. Sullay bursts through on the edge of the box, beating one but hitting a crowd... A cynic would say he should have gone down. We create chances, a pull back that bisects Kaikai and Madine, another Virtue drive from distance. They create the odd bit, a pull back whacked over the bar the best effort. 

The Viking does his groin. Critch more or less shouts 'fuck you Thorniley' as the left sided centre back stays sat on the bench and Demi Mitchell comes on instead, Husband shuffling across to the middle, a position where he likes to get sent off from. Demi looks up for it today, galloping forward from left back with purpose. He should never play on the right. Ever. Ever. Ever. 

Ward nips in, Sullay takes it and oh, my word, he just goes, right down the middle, he's magic when he's like this, he's like a mountain stream in full flow, skipping round the static rocks of the Baggies defence, he sets himself to strike, cracks it with everything he's got but it's half a yard over the top. 

We've hammered them this half. C'mon Pool!!!! 

--- 

"Ref, he's fucking away ref!" comes through loud and clear from the Pool bench as Sullay bursts clear on a break only to be scythed down. Ajayi puts his hands in Madine's face again for what I make the third time. He's already on a card but he seems fine to keep groping big Gaz anytime he likes. Maxwell makes an outstanding stop from Edwards, flinging himself low and keeping out a stinging low drive from close in.

Ward has to come off, replays suggesting his problem is possibly also related to hands in the face, Robson comes on. Dougall almost puts Virtue in from deep, a gorgeous lofted ball over the top but the Throstles just about stop the lively Virtue in his tracks.  

Pool win a free kick from brave play by Mitchell. The skinny Tyson Fury in goals for West Brom yells and points. We smack the free kick into the wall. A ball comes across. Virtue meets it well, but at the exact same time as West Brom foot and it just makes a loud noise and goes nowhere. Sullay threads a pass, Demi is in a great place to cross but lifts it way over everyone and that is that. 

It's penalties and I don't feel good about that. If WBA shaded the first half, we've been brilliant in injury time and look fitter and more likely. That just about guarantees we'll lose the shoot out. 

--- 

Super Jerry up first at the Kop end. The keeper fannies about like an absolute knob for a bit, walking away from the goal, pissing about with his towel, stepping off the line, questioning where the ball is placed. Yates tries to ignore him. He runs up crisply and hits the lower corner, just inside the right hand post, but the keeper gets there as it's not hit hard enough. 0-0 

The Soviet fireman is next for them. He goes straight down the middle and gives them the lead. 0-1
 
The keeper knobs about again. Dougall goes into the roof of the net. A brilliant penalty. Sit down skinny Tyson Fury. Take that. 1-1. Critch grins, he's an impish delight at times like this. 

Edwards next. No fuss but Maxwell goes right and saves it. Yes! Still 1-1. 

It's Jimmy Husband, a little stutter and sending the keeper the wrong way. Calm as you like. 2-1. COME ON POOL!!! 

Now Furlong. A stutter again, but Maxwell reads it, waiting that split second longer and he goes down to his left and saves it. 2-1 still.  

Now super Gaz... He just puts the ball down, takes a couple of steps back and smacks it. Actually, 'smacks it' doesn't do it justice. He launches it right down the middle with the force of V2 rocket. It nearly takes the keeper's head off and almost breaks the net in the bargain. The look he gives the terrified keeper suggests he enjoyed it very much. That'll teach you to fuck about like that skinny Tyson Fury... We lead 3-1 and Gary Madine is king of the world. 

Livermore takes a good penalty to keep WBA in it. 3-2 

Now Sullay... this could be just what he needs. He's been much brighter in his cameo today than the last couple of games combined and this could really top it off and get his confidence back. He sends the keeper totally the wrong way but the ball rattles the base of the post... Oh, Sullay! 3-2

Now Pereira, who totally did Maxwell from his previous effort, he sets off with a silly prancing dressage horse run once again but this time, Maxwell throws himself to the right and makes a great stop, again just waiting and following the ball 3-2! 

WE FUCKING DID IT!!!! Sam trudges, he's seen it all before. Critch canters off, arms aloft, beaming, eyes alight with naive and pure joy. How can you begrudge a man like that his delight? We did it! We fucking DID IT! One day he'll amble like Sam and it'll be just another game, but this means something to him and that means everything to us. 

The only shame is we're not there. This would be one of those games where the applause tumbles from the stand and the chants go on. Where you leave the ground and float away into the night air, carried in crowd of others of the same mind. But for all that. It still feels pretty good. 

--- 

What more is there to say? This was a cracking performance. We held our own when they were on top and as the game drew on, rather than clinging on, we looked like we could go and win it. I've written enough on our shortcomings so tonight, I'm just going to say they were magnificent. Dougall was back to his best, nipping in, using it well, playing it short and long, fighting for everything. Ward really does seem to have grown into his role in the middle and was at the heart of a lot for us. Some thought the loan keeper was better than Maxwell, (not me) but he played brilliantly today, picking up exactly where he left off pre covid. Madine was a focal point, Yates buzzed and harried. The defence did as they usually do these days, Turton I thought played well going forward as well. Bez had a competent enough game, looking way less headless than on some earlier starts and creating a goal. Sullay and particularly Virtue sparkled when they came on, Virtue's drive and willingness to shoot a very welcome sight given our penchant for possession without an end result.  

There's nothing else that matches a cup win. The excitement of 'what comes next?' The mad optimism of 'how far can we go?' 

I'd tell you how far we can go. 

All the way to WEMBLEY. 

Fuck the rest of life. Tonight is class. 

utmp

 

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Sunday, January 3, 2021

Are we any good? Does it even matter?

If you're here for XG stats and to the point analysis, I'd probably move on...

The other day, I was thinking about the weather. I realised I don't really know for sure why it's cold in winter, I think it's something to do with the bit of the earth we're on being further away from the sun or something like that. But then, that doesn't explain why it's colder this week than it was last week. That's down to air pressure or wind or something like that. That got me thinking about how I don't really know what wind is and how everything is interlinked. About how the weather in say, Siberia is connected to the weather in Florida or New Dehli and how it's all a bit mad when you stop and consider it. 

I thought how it's a bit like football formations and tactics. Every little tweak and change has an impact. Sometimes it's a clear day and the sun shines, so it's hot. Other days, it's cloudy and it's cold cos the suns rays don't get through. Easy enough. That's like if you just swap a better player for a worse player, like swapping Anthony Evans for KDH for example. KDH is clearly better, so the team benefits.

Other changes have more subtle impacts. They're kind of like when you look out and it's bright blue sky, so you go out in a t-shirt and freeze then the weather explains about 'low pressure in a northerly direction' - i.e - it gets more complex. When we swapped Jimmy Husband for Luke Garbutt (seemingly an upgrade) Sullay went off the boil. Why? Perhaps cos Garbutt took away his free kicks and corners (thus psychologically diminishing his impact) and also makes him do more work tracking back, thus physically exposing Sullay's weakness. On Saturday we played Keshi and he got forward a lot, but left a big hole. We were both more threatening and more exposed. When Nottingham left, Ekpiteta got better and so on. Things aren't so simple in those cases. 

The point is, it's quite complex to work out what exactly is the best balance and most effective line up. Ollie Turton is a case in point. Whilst he rarely stands out, whenever he's shifted from right back, bad things happen. No one really knows why, but it's just the way it is. Like the weather and electricity. 

I then wondered why I was thinking about Turton and friends so philosophically. Surely this isn't right that a bloke of my age is spending his time, staring at clouds and thinking about rank average footballers that most people have never heard of? Haven't I got better things to do with my time? 

That's the beauty of football though. It's deceptively simple yet endlessly complex. It's almost untamable - think of how many periods of sustained success we've had through the years. How many seasons where we've dominated, week after week, how many times you've genuinely been confident for the most part that we'll win. There aren't many. 

That's the truth for most teams in most leagues, the world over. Even the mega rich, the ones who've spent the GDP of a small post Soviet satellite state on assembling a team of stars, recruited by a team of data scientists who themselves were recruited by team of recruitment specialists can struggle. Football can blow up in your face. What one season is a surefire winning formula can fall apart as a player ages or is injured. It's like a set of jenga blocks, It might look so solid, but it's ready to topple at any time. 

There's always the opposition as well. You can cruise through one game, looking like world beaters, turn up to the next and look like shite. Why? Cos the opposition do something different. That adds to the complexity further. Not only do you have to put all the pieces together and assemble a working machine, you have to consider the way the other team is going to try and disrupt the mechanism. One team might just bet that their machine is better than yours and let you do what you want. The other team might just try and smash it up or anything in between the two options. 

So, I suppose I'm saying, why not think about the Goal Machine and Jerry together or alone or whether Ballard should start ahead of the Viking? The world is chaos and order, the world is cause and effect, the world is unknowable but knowledge is everywhere, meaning forms and patterns emerge in our minds as we can't help it. We never really know who we are or why are here, but it feels so often as if we're on the verge of discovering. Everything is nothing but seemingly something and football is as good as anything else to think about. 

So that digression out the way, are we any good? Is there a magic combination that would unlock the meaning of life (presumably promotion) to be found whilst staring at the tactics board? 

I don't think there is in the squad as it is.

I think we're decently average and have elements of a very good team. Foundations, if you like. We're like a half built building and at this point, it's difficult to tell if the building is going to be beautiful or functional but it is at least recognisable as a structure. 

We have a decent defence and a decent keeper. Sure, you can pick out mistakes (which league 1 players will make, tbh, all players will make) but by and large, they're good and there's some strength in depth aside from in between the sticks. The defence is fine in other words. We could play four, five or three and field quality, whatever we do. 

In midfield we have a huge supply of players who look like they're just short of being 'the answer' - Kemp, Anderson, Woodburn, Sullay and Robson are theoretically good. Sullay on his day is stunning. Robson looks like he oozes class, Anderson is a box of tricks, Kemp is a willow-the wisp flickering shadow who can ghost into little gaps and so on. Yet, they're not seeming like these players consistently enough. Robson isn't showing a range of passing or vision. He looks like he should be able to thread a ball or have a go and every now and again he does, and it looks like it comes easy to him, but he doesn't do it often enough. Sullay can go past an entire defence without seeming to even notice he's trying to be tackled but he ends up just jogging up and down on the left looking a bit forlorn. Kemp runs like a nutcase but doesn't seem to get passed to and Anderson has his hands on his hips looking a bit grumpy as much as anything else. 

We just haven't seemed to have clicked in midfield often enough. We've got Dougall and CJ who work perfectly well, Grant Ward who seems comfortable enough most games but maybe not really a central midfielder. Everyone (aside from CJ) seems to be waiting for someone else to make something happen. The most 2020 Blackpool thing ever, is a 20 pass move where loads of technically gifted players pass it about till eventually Ollie Turton lofts it over everyone's heads from the right hand side and we start again. 

We've never quite got the midfield spot on. We do well against good sides where we can be tigerish and counter but when we have to make the running and make things happen, stuff never quite seems to fall into place. 

I worry that possession is too important to us. I muse to myself about whether the coaching staff still need to learn that league one players aren't deadly. That we need to drill the midfield to take more risks above retaining the ball in order to create more chances. Yes, losing the ball is a risk, but equally, the lower down the leagues you go, the less adept sides are at punishing you for it. In the same vein, the lower down the league you go, the more chances your players need to score the same number of goals. For example I'm not sure Critch quite gets Bez. He's brilliant (no, he is!) and shit (sorry Bez) in the same player. Cos he's a lower league player and you can't expect a player like Bez to be a ten minute impact sub. He'll have five shots in a game, one will be unreal and he'll look like the greatest player on earth, the next one he'll fall over his own feet. A player like Bez will make as many chances as he misses but he doesn't fit into a possession based game cos he loses the ball, so we've barely seen him. 

I don't watch much Premier League, but last time I watched City, they basically just fannied about for 60 minutes stroking the ball about, doing fuck all of any real purpose, then scored 3 times then switched off. That doesn't work in division 3 because no one is Aguero. We can keep the ball quite well, but then the next bit doesn't happen. The old Liverpool used to just bore the opposition to death, then Ian Rush would score twice. Again, no one is Ian Rush. No one at this level is that clinical and if they are, they're already a target of someone much bigger than us. How many Jamie Vardy's are there? Not many. We need to make more chances or find a needle in a haystack in the form of a striker who scores most chances he gets. 

Up front, we're well short. Neither of them can play on their own and as a two, they're functional enough, but it's mad to rely on literally two strikers if you're going to start with a pair. Unless we're going to stumble on a big, mobile, pacy, clinical striker with vision and the ability to bring other into play as well, we're going to have to play with two. 

The Goal Machine is as good as your going to get at what he does. A portion of his game is frankly above this league at times. Ok, he's not fast or deadly but he'll win the ball, bring it down, hold it up as well, if not better than players the league above us and he has vision. He is like a significantly better John Murphy and that's a massive compliment as I love big Murphs. What we lack is Brett or Scott Taylor (or for younger viewers, a DJ Campbell) who can really work off him. Someone who presents a real problem with searing pace and clever movement. Murphs got stick when he was here for being a big lump, but he had two great partnerships and that speaks of his worth as a player as much as the goals he got himself. I think Madine could be the making of someone else in the same way Murphs was (Brett and Taylor never scored as many again anywhere without Murphs). That someone is someone we don't yet have. 

I feel as if I'm slagging of Yates when I write that, but Yates would benefit from playing with a mobile striker in a different way than Madine would. He comes deep, he wins the ball, he likes drifting wide and Madine isn't really the man to be linking with on the edge of he box. For all his qualities, running onto a through ball isn't the goal machine's strength and Yates playing with a mobile partner might bring him a lot more space, which he always seems to lack and on the rare occasions he finds it, seems to do pretty well with. He's actually quite clinical looking, he just doesn't seem to have many chances to actually shoot or head at goal. Perhaps with someone pacy pulling a defence about, he'd get more. 

On top of all of the above is the lingering feeling the season won't end and none of this matters. I don't know what the right thing is. I'm just a shit rambling blogger who writes too long articles to stop himself thinking about other things. But it's odd. Strange that all the hours watching and debating, questioning, thinking, second guessing and hoping, cursing and celebrating will mean nothing. It's a strange, strange season. We've not even seen the whites of these players eyes*. Not sung their names. I don't think anyone in the squad has a song. We've never applauded them off the pitch or implored them to 'for fucks sake sort it!' I'd say we've never been so distant,but I suppose we have. The difference is, we're distant but invested yet not properly connected. These players are little more than sprites that run around that we summon up on a Saturday or Tuesday and dismiss with a closing of the laptop lid. 

For all that we're watching a soulless stream, devoid of atmosphere and for all that perhaps we're a side that aren't going to fulfil our dreams just yet (they will, wizardry takes time to learn, look at Harry Potter as a cast iron high quality, deeply relevant, serious football example of the fact that magic is learned over a period of time) if the season ends, there'll be a yawning gap. A massive hole where something was and now it isn't.

Football is something in a big dark world of nothing and we're fucking tangerine. Win, lose, draw or game postponed (other), we're still tangerine. 

*
most of us haven't anyway... 

utmp



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Saturday, January 2, 2021

Gas Panic: Bristol Rovers vs the Mighty

No snow. Spoilsports. 

C'mon football. Give us an orange ball. I went for a walk this morning and it was snowy and snow means an orange ball. In a world of relentless and monotonous predictability (tier 4, rising infection rates, no Armand return) such a thing would be a shock of non conformity, a blast of colour in a grey landscape, a visual jolt to the optic nerve. 

Sadly, it's not to be. The Memorial ground is a lush green under a grey sky. I quite like Bristol Rovers, I knew a gashead once upon a time. Nice lad. The epitome of the long suffering lower league fan. He had dreadlocks cos that's what Brizzle is like. It's all drum and bass and social exclusion. They never seem to have much luck except when it comes to us, when it seems they beat us all the time. We were tepid last time out, we weren't so much knocked off our stride as never really got above a shuffle and Critchley has been all steely determination since, no twinkle in his eye, demanding better and assuring us that improvement isn't optional. 

Sullay has vanished (boo) and the two up front returns (hurray!) Grant Ward returns (slight ambivalence which is probably unfair) and Ollie Turton is in at right back (polite applause.) Football is weird, Ward has scored a couple of crackers, works really hard and generally moves in a forward direction and whilst Sullay has been a languid and isolated figure, I love an enigma and I hope he responds well to the gnomelike one's kick up the bum. I've decided Critchley reminds me of an impish garden ornament and am hoping he's back to his smiling self by 4:45pm. 

C'mon Pool!

---

Either Pool seem determined to leave their mark on their opponents or Rovers players go down easily. Both Madine and Dougall start the game as if determined to disprove any post Shrew accusations of being a soft touch. Its all head tennis and jostling as the sides trade corners, Pool's coming after nice work from Dan Kemp but only leading to a Keshi effort that crosses the far touchline instead of the goal line. 

Pool are soon on top and it's a GOAL MACHINE GOAL! Dan Ballards defensive qualities are obvious but he's a decent footballer too. He picks it up deep, wanders forward and spots a pass, he hits a quick cross field ball that finds its man. Grant Ward is soon picking it up but his touch looks heavy, he reacts well, chasing it down and whipping it across to the near post, where Madine finishes with a first time effort into the roof of the net. 

We then put together a lovely move, Keshi spinning his man and getting Garbutt away on the overlap. It's one of those, where from the cross, we can't get a man on it and it doesn't quite fall for anyone to shoot. Then there's brilliant feet from Dan Kemp, a lovely little moment, where he steps on the ball, makes to drag back, but then goes himself that the Rover's defence buys totally, leaving him space to shoot and see it desperately charged down. Pool are on top. Madine's strength in the box creates space for Yates, the goal machine wrestles his man and lays off for his mate who fiddles a bit of space and shoots low, just past the far post. 

Pool have a couple more moments, Keshi's beligerance almost puts him through, Kemp slips a nice ball to Madine who can't make the most of it and Grant Ward does more good work trying to keep pressure on after a Garbutt free kick is clear, cutting inside and spreading play with real skill. Pool are playing really well. Kemp is more central, swapping with Ward who is comfortable drifting wide. We're quicker to second balls and snapping into tackles. It's one of those periods where you hope the second comes as rarely does dominance last in this league. 

As I think that, Rovers mount three or four attacks, we repel them easily enough and Keshi breaks, charging down the left, getting right to the touchline and then lifting it back, over the keeper but inches over Madine's head... So close... 

The equaliser comes from, of all things, a dodgy clearance from Dan Ballard. How many times we've purred over his ability to control and clear, but this time he goes to chest it and the ball pops up and he slices it ineffectually, Rovers capitalise, move it swiftly down the middle, exploiting the space where Ballard isn't and working it to Brandon Hanlon who slides it into the bottom corner. Too easy. 

Then, Rovers are coming again, a dangerous ball into the box is met by Marvin, who climbs well and nods away, but only to the edge of the box... Sam Nicholson meets it with a brilliant finish, half volleying on the turn into the top corner before Dougall can get there, Walker only able to stand rooted to the spot and admire it. Fucking hell. Where did that come from?  

Garbutt races away, stuns a brilliant ball right across the face of goal, Keshi, Kemp and Madine all go in after it and somehow none of them connect. My head in my hands mirrors the players on the pitch. It's all Garbutt now, a cross to the near post taken of Jerry's toes by the keeper, A corner won that pops up on the edge of the box for Ward who slices his shot. Marvin gets excited as the shot is so bad it spins out to where he's started to trot back to defensive duties, leaving him in acres of space if he can just control it. He doesn't. The ball smacks into his thigh and rolls out for a throw, Marvin running gamely after it in a vain attempt to keep the moment alive. 

The half ends with a flurry of Pool corners, a good punch from the Brizzle keeper and then the ball rolling out of play after Ward, on the halfway line spots Kemp and once again Marvin bizarrely on the right wing in space but over hits the pass.  

---

We've been the better side by some distance, but we're losing. What encourages me is the intent. It's a commonly held view that we're a striker light in the squad, but there's no point buying one if we're not making chances and going forward and we have done that today. Yes, you can point to moments of quality, bemoan the final pass or a cross or defensive mistakes, but overall, we've got more balls into the box, had more players in the box and spent more time going forward than last two games combined. 

This is one of those games where we need to come out on fire in the second half, take the attitude we've shown and put the wrongs right. The defence has been excellent in general, time for the forward players to step up and cancel out their mistakes today - they've earned the right for that I think. 

What I think sums up the half is Ward has played really well, Keshi has looked lively, Yates and Madine have at least flickered as a pair, Kemp has had a couple of little moments of magic and Garbutt has put ball after ball in but no one stands out at all from Rovers. Yet, they're winning. 

C'MON  POOL!!!
---

Oh for fucks sake. The Gas start well, getting down the right winning a corner. The corner is swung in harmlessly, Ward stoops to head away but the referee adjudges it hit his arm. If it did it was a total accident he gained no advantage from but the ref gives a penalty. Walker goes right, the penalty is down the middle and he adjusts, throwing his arms back the way he came, twisting upwards in the air, defying momentum and saving it. It's rolling dangerously back across goal. Where have we seen this before? The entire Pool squad chase it down this time and it's scrambled away. That's the luck we needed, surely!?

But moments later, they're away on the left, playing a perfect ball to Hanlon who MUST score but somehow tucks it past the post. It's not over though as minutes later, the same player is spinning in the area and a shot forces a low stop from Walker, the ball taking a weird path, it's all slow motion horror and alarmingly close to going in. Then another surreal moment where it looks as if they've got an open goal and I can barely watch this.... 

At least the scoreline no longer feels unfair... There's that I suppose. 

Finally Pool have an attack, Keshi carrying forward and swapping passes with Yates, running onto Jerry's back heel and barrelling into the box, the Rovers keeper foiling the move by sprawling at Keshi's feet. Oh, but for a slightly heavy touch, we'd be level.  

The game isn't so much calming down but it's slightly less heart attack inducing for a few minutes. We score the goal we need, a beautiful passing move that Dan Kemp chips home, but it's called offside ten seconds before the little lad finishes it. 

Rovers are playing with a totally different intensity this half - they showed none of this harrying, pressing and chasing. They've got bite and snarl and confidence. They swing a corner in and a deep, powerful header cracks the top of the bar, leaving it vibrating. Pool look rushed, they need to calm the game down, but they also need to chase it. We've not got the same confidence any more.

It's getting wild. Garbutt looks to have conceded an obvious penalty but the ref, perhaps aware that the first one was harsh doesn't give it. Keshi gets whacked on the halfway line. Ward puts a good cross in and the keeper goes up with (I think) Yates and for once in the history of modern football the ref doesn't give a foul for a challenge and the ball breaks, but despite grappling like an MMA fighter, the Goal Machine can't capitalise. 

Then Madine at the far post is drilling a low shot after a corner skims a defenders head, turning a near post ball to a far post one. It takes just enough of a deflection to strike the advertising board instead of the back of the net. Fuck me. 

Pool have spell, Yates runs at the defence, Garbutt crosses quite well, Keshi crosses terribly, Madine wins the ball in the box but can't find support. Time for fresh legs? Kemp looks knackered but somehow manages to get it across to Keshi who literally spins round, I have no idea what he's doing, but it turns out he's finding space then sliding a mad diagonal pass to Garbutt, it was clever, but a bit heavy, but the lovely haired one makes it, sprinting, then sliding and crossing in one move, Yates sets himself, leaps and bullet heads it but into the shoulder of a defender and it deflects over the top.

Keshi belts one a mile over, then does a brilliant run from deep to get onto a Garbutt ball and win a corner. That seems to sum his day up. He's been the best and the worst of him. At least he's trying stuff. From the corner Ballard wins it and nods it down to where three players are throwing themselves at it, but it's hacked away for another. Ballard wins it again in the centre of the goal and Yates chucks himself at it like an aquarium dolphin leaping to catch a fish but he can't reach it for all the athletic endeavour in the world. 

It's Critch's cavalcade of subs time. Kemp, Bez and Woodburn on, Yates, Anderson and Kemp off. Hmm. I'm not sure, 3 again? We've just had a decent spell so surely don't hook 30% of the team at once? What do I know etc... 

We go flat for a few minutes. (subs I guess) then Ollie Turton has a wonderful run, Tidying up a Marvin mistake, going right down the middle, spreading it to Demi with an inch perfect pass who comes inside and belts it.... into the corner of the stand.

As I'm trying to work out what the subs are about, Woodburn lays it off to Bez, he skins his man, advances on the box and pulls it back to no one at all. AAAARGH! Mitchell then gets caught offside. AAAAAARGH! 

Madine chest controls and sets away Woodburn, he's sliced down on the right hand side of the box. Garbutt spots a flaw in their defensive set up and smashes the free kick at the near post, it's deflected then beaten away somehow by the keeper. From the resulting corner, Garbutt again puts in in and a stooping header from (possibly) Demi Mitchell is again repelled by a diving stop. Fuck's sake! 

Then Bez ghosts inside, a shimmy, he's drifting and he's shooting, and the is keeper parrying and Madine and Mitchell are desperately but following up but it's futile effort.... Now it's Woodburn wide right, crossing deep and there's Bez, he's controlled it and he's lent back and, this, surely is his moment, he's the man to unlock defences, the ace in the hole, the magic missing piece, he was there all along... he's belted it over the top.... Oh Bez. Oh Bez. Oh.... Bez. 

Fucking hell Pool. 

----

I frankly don't have the appetite for a post mortem. It was a brilliant game but a complete sickener. We bossed the game at times, we looked completely lost at times. I don't know what to make of this team. Are we fish? Are we fowl? I don't know. There's loads of skill in it, but then sometimes it looks disjointed and clumsy. At other times we're direct but then Madine aside, we sometimes look too lightweight. It feels as if we couldn't get hold of that game, yet it feels as if we took total charge of it. I don't quite know what to expect from the team and it feels sometimes as if they don't quite know what to expect from each other. It honestly felt as if we were going to 'click' early on but then, we fell apart. 

We could have won it 3-1, we could have lost 4-1, it could have been 5-5. It's difficult to take positives from a performance which was flawed in a lot of ways but the big thing is, we looked to take the game to Bristol. Add in a clinical striker and that game is different. Where we get a clinical striker from is a different question entirely... If only there was one out of contract... See what I did there? Ok, there's life beyond the misunderstood Gallic genius but if you could just whistle up a top striker, then everyone would be whistling all the time. It does seem that half the sides we play bring on someone really good up front as a sub and we're struggling to put a forward line together to start the game. 

I think we hit a real point of decision today. I think we don't quite have the squad to play either Critchball 4-3-3 or a more pragmatic/generic 4-4-2. We're missing crucial elements of both. We look better with two up front but more prone to mistakes. Which way do we go now? Which style do we recruit for? Who exactly are we? I certainly prefer this Pool to Tuesday night's Pool but I wonder what Critchlerwood-Garrity think. Do they want breathless kamikaze football or to try and calmly control games and play percentages. I honestly don't know. At least we're not predictable. 

That's all you're getting. Had enough of football. It's shite* To top it all off, it's apparently now snowing in Bristol. Too late. 

*It was actually a fucking great game but I'm in a strop. Oh Bez... Keep going lad. You'll get your moment one day. 

utmp



----

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Yet another bad owner. Where do they breed them?

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