Out of ideas? - Lincoln City vs the Mighty

Wake really early. Get away. What else is there to do. Might as well tick off the seconds to death somewhere else eh?

From west to east. Upwards. Steady climb. Patchwork fog over Saddleworth. The world smudge grey then suddenly light. Dark heather ripe with dew, thrown into instant contrast before the fog claims the view again.

Motorway bridges can be magnificent. 20 miles of nothing then a perfectly formed arch hangs between steep sides. Another twenty miles. The aerial sprawl of a junction where concrete pathways that seem to be heading skyward interlace and shoot off in different directions before curving gracefully back to earth. A sculptural moment of choice.

Downwards now. Post industrial sprawl gives way to fenland. Coppices and hedgerows the only thing that disrupts a land so flat in looks as if it's been rolled. Deeper into it now and an occasional recurring but endlessy varying pattern of hay bails and cut straw serve to colour the landscape like abstract modern art.

If I believed, I'd say such mornings are like stepping into a gallery of God's work. I don't, so 'it's just mad what shit there is when you remember to look' will have to do.

Lincoln. I can't work it out. It's full of trendy farmers. High fashion UKIP. I love the little rough back streets by the ground with their terraced houses that are all stuck together but yet not all the same. I can't tell if I love or hate the town. It's so fucking English in that ITV drama English way that I don't feel like it's English. Is this my England? I don't know. Whatever it is, it seems to have a disproportionate number of aging heavy metal fans and people who seem to be either endless variations on Jeremy Clarkson/farmers wives or people who went to art school in the 70s. Maybe Lincoln is an experiment to see what happens if you put a particular gene set into an infinite variance machine? I realise later that actually most of these people probably aren't from Lincoln and it's like calling Blackpool people a bunch of Glaswegians on a stag do.

I find a shit street with a cash converters. I feel less underdressed. A bit more at home. Then a fucking steam traction engine drives by like that's a perfectly normal thing and then everything goes twee and and strange again. I still don't know if I like it or not.

Oh, you want football?

We've signed the little big man and the old fella who used to be good. I'm excited about the first and confused about the second. The second one will probably play and the first one will probably go on loan to Crawley or something.

Please fucking score. Or just attack sometimes.

Critch knows. He must know. I know he's a big (actually, fairly small) boring turncoat etc etc etc but he's also the most hardworking and intelligent manager we could probably get without taking a wild punt and hoping it works out. This is his absolute speciality. An away day to somewhere miles away. Smash and grab. Play the best stuff when no one's watching. You know what? Today, I'm begging him for a fisting.

(To be honest, I'd like to think I was better than that on both a personal and literary level, but fuck it. It's a shit blog about shit football in a shit league and you've got to get your kicks somehow)

---

Things start ok. There are chances. Then... Marvin's mental slide tackle. It's like he's broken. He stops. He jumps. It's like a skipped record. A missed frame in an old film. Static. Pounce. It's all wrong. Jerky. Fucking hell. Grimmy waves and dances to no avail. Fucks sake Pool.

We play ok again. We make some chances. The closest we come is when Marvin nearly scores with what looks to me, like his back. I think that sums it up. There's some oohing and groaning and some playing it across the face of goal and some not quite getting a shot off and generally a sense that we're a bit scared to put our foot through it or if we have a chance it'll probably be Callum Connolly who it falls to and he's not going to score anyway. It never really ever feels like anyone will.

Probably our best chance sees Lavs run free and then inexplicably (at the time) stop and square it to Beesley who isn't there and looks quite flustered when he realises he is expected to be. It turns out Lavery has done his hamstring and thus stopping was quite explicable after all. Rhodes comes on and does ok but he's not really got the vibe of 'pacy lad who scares the shit out of other teams defence'

Then the old fella who used to be good is left running desperately back after a Lincoln player who seems to have a force field around him as everyone dives out the way to avoid tackling him and then he slaps it home. It beats Grimmy easily but someone tells me it hit Marv. I don't know. Don't really care to be honest. Either way it's a goal. 

Hmmm.

My other favourite things about this half that to be honest, I'd rather forget.

I liked the bit when CJ got possession and went at his man and then *didn't do any sort of trick, feint, sway or anything even remotely designed to get the ball past the defender and just fell over after losing it and then looked a bit sad/confused* I also liked the bit where *the ball hit him in the face* as he tried the weirdest bit of control ever. Oh CJ. CJ. CJ. CJ. 

On a cathartic level I sort of enjoyed going 'for fucks sake Bees' when he watched the ball and expected CJ to come and win a header as if he'd never heard of the idea of 'a big lad being on the pitch to head stuff that comes near him' and obviously thought CJ was better in the air than him as if he'd never met CJ before. Then I felt a bit tight, cos I always stuck up for Gaz when he didn't jump but, well, Bees isn't Gaz.

---

I don't know. We've been arguably better than them. We're also 2-0 down and some of our play has been woeful.

---

Critch is hopping mad and has subbed everyone. I think he might have sent a note to some of their mums saying he's disappointed too.

Dale, Carey, Lyons all join. That's some technique and ability. Maybe this will be the masterclass bit.

Carey has the best shot of the game, a low fizzing drive the keeper stops well. CJ has a gilt edged chance he makes look less inviting than it was by putting it into the stand. Norburn wellies one 8 foot over the top. Rhodes I think shoots as well but overall it's all a bit hopeful rather than intense pressure.

It's fizzling out anyway when Hubby, Grimmy and Norburn combined somehow all get a touch but can't stop their lad, so Ollie chops him down and gets sent off and they score another pen and I've no more words about this game to be honest other than that because, well, we lost 3-0 and there's nothing really to gripe about or rage against other than ourselves.

---

It's tempting to say things like 'actually, we were the better team for a lot of the game so it'll come good' but that's not how I feel. I mean, in many ways, we were but that kind of makes it worse. We were ok in terms of possession in harmless places, but we couldn't defend and we really couldn't attack. The only time I felt like we'd come really close was the Carey effort and though you could see Rhodes had some quality and was willing to have a go at goal, he didn't really seem to look like someone who was going to change the dynamic massively and give us major new options.

Everything in front of goal look scuffed, laboured. We didn't run in straight lines, we didn't show aggression. We seemed to be doing everything to keep possession, but with no obvious sense of getting the ball to a particular player or with any real belief that it would get us anywhere. No one wanted to take on anyone. CJ got the stick from the crowd, but as bad as he was, I thought he showed as much intent as 2 or 3 others combined who just played it safe, safe, safe. CJ doesn't make the right decisions, but it's not his fault he hasn't got the technique or confidence and that when it goes wrong it tends to have a farcical quality to it.

I very rarely go to 'lack of effort' when I write up a game because, actually, I think it's very rare, as much as fans tend to cite it, that we don't try but there was little intensity to our play. It felt kind of directionless. Risk free.

We were the better team in some metrics, but we did so little with that. Some of our players looked a bit lost or played it safe. We looked robotic and stiff. There was no instinct from some of them. It felt as if, not for the first time this season, that we were playing a training ground exercise that was foiled by the other team rudely not following the instructions on how they should play.

We made a load of subs, but we kept the same shape because we seem to have lost the pages of the manual that have other formations drawn on them. CJ probably the one player who worried them. That's what is genuinely concerning. Marvin is out of form for sure and he had a terrible afternoon, but Pennington can come in. CJ needs to be relived of wing back duties but I genuinely don't know who else will run at the other team from wide or has any pace. Beesley is (lets be diplomatic) not in the form of his life, but how do we swap him out when no one else wins a header other than the centre backs?

I don't see the quality at the moment to make the system work but I don't see the option to change it either. We've got too many samey players who are in a rut around the midpoint of their careers. We've got some good players who don't have the right system/options and we've got a few that just need to go.

We've won 6 times in 10 months I think. We look like 10 nice lads and a grumpy fella (who is now suspended) on a geography field trip with the head of Yr 10 in a tracksuit.

We need to shake it up.

I don't normally go on about transfers cos frankly, there are better thinks to wank about than the money rich idiots with egos spend on footballers to sate the appetites of football fans who take their self esteem from some kind of bizarre show of reflected financial power, but honestly, straight up, not even lying or exaggerating, we really do need a load out and a load in. Critch needs to get the Fabreze out quickly, cos there's a smell of mothballs and hangovers. Too many games lost in legs and too many similar players half of whom know they won't play much at a point when they need to be.

This system needs an upgrade in quality in at (very) least two positions to start to work. If we can't get that quality then we need to change the system and to change the system we need players we don't have. Either way, the dice needs to be rolled.

On the way back, the setting sun lit the underside of the clouds over the moors. It was beautiful. I wanted to stop and watch them change shape, shifting within and upon themselves whilst the pinks turn to darker reds and burnt orange then fade to night because why not? Out there is the atmosphere and beyond that a universe so vast we can't even hold it in our minds.

It's only football and we're not long here are we? There's all of time and space and all of existence and in that light, we're truly privileged to be the few sentient beings in all of that everything and forever who get to see CJ as an inverted wing back. When you think about it that way, it's kind of a wonder of the age really.

Onward!

Tweet

 You can follow MCLF on facebook or Twitter 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

Read More

Same, same, same... : the Mighty vs Leyton Orient

Right. Enough of last week. Boring games happen. It's just a fact of life. We all just want it to be *a bit more interesting* and it's definitely going to be this week isn't it? 

Inside it's all very casual. They've only brought a few and the sun is shining It's still mid August. Time for some sun soaked football magic. 

No one seems to make that much of Richie Wellen's presence either. There he is, padded jacket incongruous in the warmth, looking like he's barely aged since he made his debut (from my distance anyway.) Everything is set for a good day. 

--- 

They are terrible. For the first 15 minutes, we're all over them. They can't pass, when they try to run with it, they look sluggish. Their central defenders' use of the ball makes Marvin look like prime Pirlo. 

We're busy and playing with intent. Lavery smashes a snap shot and draws a good save. We're happy enough with an open game and better for it. 

There's a scramble in the box following a corner and Jimmy hits one well and there's another tidy piece of keeping. 

I wonder in my head after we have a shot 'Will Critch be pissed off that we lost possession?'

For all that we play in the first spell, we then hit a long, long patch where we just, well, don't. It's like a sailing ship becalmed. Orient stop being shit and start to do basic stuff in a vaguely competent way. 

That has us baffled. Repeatedly the ball ends up with Marvin who looks like a lost child in a supermarket, who doesn't know what to do, turning one way then the other as if searching for a familiar face but seeing only a sea of strangers. The general discontent at this is probably not helping his sense of inner calm. 

We offer next to nothing and thus we start to concede chances. Grimmy makes a brilliant instinctual stop, Grimmy dives tidily to his right and keeps out a drive. Grimmy bends himself backwards to get a touch on one that loops up and drops in front of an empty need and somehow Casey (I think) gets away with strong arming their lad off the ball and the ball is levered away. 

We're second best for a long period, until, as if fearing the half time reaction we decide to have a little go at attacking again as if fending off the boos. 

 --- 

 Hmmm. 

 --- 

We come out all guns blazing and score immediately, fired up by a new found self belief and bolstered by two attacking changes, releasing some of our pent up young players into the game to finally have their shot at glory. 

Oh. No. That didn't happen. Instead we labour manfully and the game basically continues as it did before. 

It wasn't quite as shit as Tuesday. Beesley wins a few headers. We have the odd corner but it's not like we're establishing ourselves in their half and battering the door down. 

Morgan drives it. Their keeper sprawls, Lavery charges on to the loose ball and cracks the base of the post. Things calm down. Time for that definitive attacking change ..

"Replacing number 15, Jensen Weir, no 17, Matty Virtue...' 

Jensen Weir has been fine. He's a kid. He's done ok, he played a couple of nice passes, had a shot or two blocked. The ball has mostly sailed over his head. Matty Virtue is on. 

Now, let me be very clear about this. I like Matty Virtue. If you're going to do ok, you need some Matty Virtues. He's honest, he's bustling, he can pass a bit, shoot a bit and there's nothing at all wrong with him. But... Him coming on is just the most Critchley change in the world. We're struggling to break down a fairly limited side (relative to our stated ambitions at least) and we've made the same fucking sub we make every week. 

Matty Virtue isn't an agent of change. He's the kind of player who is good at keeping things the same. He's not the man you give the ball to to make the magic. He's the man that goes and gets the ball and gives it to the magic man. 

We've no fucking strikers on the bench. We're basing our game on pressing from the front and yet we can rotate out a striker and bring on fresh legs. Owen Dale isn't Messi but he's as close as we've got and he sits gathering splinters. Rob Apter is somewhere else, being 'developed' for when he's finally ready at the age of 29 to come on in a game that matters. Brad Holmes isn't on the bench because we need space for all the other Matty Virtues. It's like we're a team of Matty Virtues. All of them are variations on Matty Virtue. I like the actual Matty Virtue, but when you've got about 15 of him, then it's hard to get overexcited about him coming on. To be fair, he does ok. He does what he always does which is fine. In and of itself. 

You can probably tell I've had enough. Leyton Orient do some stuff. We do some stuff. Our stuff includes a few scrambles in the box, one in which Beesley waves his leg at the ball in possibly the most unconvincing attempt at a finish I've ever seen and the other sees super Jimbo unable to get it out from under his feet. 

We make a fundamental tactical switch, throwing caution to the wind and chucking Marvin up front and pin Orient back. 

Actually, we don't do that - we swap Weir for Sonny and carry on the same but (check this next level shit) we swap the full backs over. It has little impact. 

We're better than them. Aren't we? Surely? I'm not sure. 9 minutes injury time... 

A ball, Lavery, onto it, he's fighting, he's winning,he's cutting inside, he's through and he's putting it past the far post.... 

I never felt like he'd score. I never felt like we'd score. I never really felt like they'd score. We're trapped in a never ending 0-0. 

Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaackpoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiil Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeytooooooooooooooooooooon Oooooooooooooooooooorieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeent NiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiL 

It's like time has slowed down. 

 --- 

It's not that it's *all* shit. 

It doesn't even have the tragicomic appeal of a shit show. Casey and Jimmy were again good. Norburn is perfectly suited to his role. Morgan is kind of almost really impressive but somehow not quite yet there, Weir looked like there's something there if we can work out what to do with it (basically, see Sonny and extrapolate the same conclusions) Lavs ran hard and kept at it from first minute to last. Beesley is a curious blend of physical and timid. He'll win one really well and then look like he's pulling out the next. To me, it looks as if anything above waist height, he's more than fine with but as if he's jumpy about certain challenges on the ground, yet he's also quite neat with his feet. He works hard, he gets about but I'm struggling to pinpoint what he is. 

We know what we lack. A Gaz and some magic. It feels like we've built a platform but forgotten to actually put anything on it. 

It's all so functional seeming but lacking the key element - on one level, it's impressive we haven't conceded and yet, the architecture of an oil rig is impressive but also kind of pointless without the drill. 

We're a white painted wall without any artwork. We're a town square that is just paving and no fountain or statue, we're a chilli without any spice. A fireplace laid for decorative purposes with no actual airflow. We're breeze block without the plaster coating. We're beige.

It's not 'disgraceful' football. It's just boring, so much so that I found myself wondering if we have to lose to force us to learn to try to win. 

I've not got many problems with the players in the team beyond the fact a couple of them aren't quite good enough ('suitable' might be a kinder description) for the role they're playing. It's more a yearning for the two or three players that make all of this make some sense. We are surely looking for them... 

It isn't good enough but... let's take a deep breath and see where we are at the end of the window... 

Onward. 

Tweet

 You can follow MCLF on facebook or Twitter 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

Read More

Shit Preview - the Mighty vs Leyton Orient.

It's possible to hold two ideas in your head at any one time.

Right now, I've got 'Critchley is a boring snaky snake whose idea of wild bacchanalian excess is a golf putting machine and a can of shandy who is going to stifle the hell out of any possible joy in an attempt to stubbornly force his ideas onto the squad regardless of the evidence of their strengths and the fact we've looked toothless for 75% of the games is testament to that' and I've also got 'Critchley is a tactically astute manager who will put the building of a system ahead of the immediate temptation to 'make the best out of what he's got' thus resulting in a more sustainable long term project and ultimately greater success and the fact we've already looked a million times more solid is testament to that' competing in my head. 

I don't know which is true or if part of both are true. Any manager of any club can be shit or good even if they were previously good (or shit.) Yeah, Pep is never shit but he just buys another set of great players and spouts pseudo philosophy in shit knitwear cos he knows that he's one for the mums and that's not what I want in a manager.

Frankly, I didn't want a bloke who looks like he manages a leisure centre in Wilmslow turning up with a petrol station bunch of flowers and a look of 'Sorry, what am I like? Can I come in?' on his face but (can I surprise you?) Simon Sandler (sic) doesn't ask me for advice. I know! You'd think he'd be on the phone all the time, but I guess he's got the Jontster and co.    

Anyway. I got over myself I'm trying to see it through Critchley's eyes. I'm being all grown up (even though I KEEP bringing it up in every blog suggesting that possibly I'm not over it even if I'm telling you I am. You'll have to be the judge of that, it's the privilege of readership, it's always easier to analyse others who aren't yourself innit?) 

What was I saying? Oh, Critch... It's not easy winning ALL the games of football. I don't know if you know this, but all the other teams have managers too and they're all plotting masterclasses and signing exciting players who've done badly on loan at Lincoln and even doing that running over cones thing that only footballers ever do for reasons no one knows. They practice stuff and everything. 

A season is a long stretch and the not knowing is what keeps it exciting. We don't know if Critch is going to work. We wouldn't know that any manager was going to work. Expectation and reality diverge and often there's fuck all we can do about it except speculate about what might happen and pointlessly discuss what we might do. 

What I (a shite blogger with no particular qualification to comment on, well, pretty much anything) think we need is this: 

1) A full back with the quality to get forward and join in. CJ is not doing it on purpose. He's just CJ. He works hard. He actually does ok if you don't put all your focus on the points where he obviously doesn't. The thing is, he's not a wrong footed wing back. He just isn't. That's a really hard role to play. If we're persisting with it (and the fact Thommo wasn't even on the bench last night for Port Vale would suggest so) then I think Lyons has the attributes to make it work, but CJ doesn't. Connolly can probably do a defensive job, but I'd be deeply concerned about what he'd add going forward. So, for me, that's the position that is clearly vacant. It's empty. There's no one who can realistically play it well going forward, at least until Gabriel comes back and we partially abandon it. 

2) Joseph to get fit so we can have two strikers harrying and running. We also probably need a big lad. Our lack of out ball is murdering us. We're not actually conceding many chances, but we're absorbing pressure because we can't hold a ball up. Lavery is a runner. Beesley isn't dominant or fast. He's kind of damned by being 'reasonable' but not really definitively anything. He'll do a job of sorts. Like Lyons he can grow into a role. I've not seen enough of him to be sure he can't. Ideally though, we'd have someone brutal to get on the end of things and disrupt at least as an option in the squad. I'm not even messing when I say, I'd keep Doug Tharme on the bench with the idea of chucking him on up front in lieu of anything else. 

3) Some risk. Here, I am again, a fucking prick who changes his mind every other article trying to tell Neil 'withandwithouttheball' Critchley what to do. The front of it! The sheer lunacy of me thinking I know anything. I should be shot. At dawn. Left in an unmarked grave, dug up by dogs, eaten, shat out, washed away by the rain into the gutter, falling into the sewers and then out into the depths of the oceans to give some swimmer e coli...  and even that's not good enough for me.... but... 

I genuinely don't care if we concede a goal in the act of attempting to score a goal. I think Critchley is right about the squad needing to get used to new things and shake off the negative vibes of last year. I also think they need to learn to enjoy themselves again. To enjoy football  (unless you're a defender) you have to play with some instinct and relish the challenge of unlocking the opponents. That's the fun. It's literally the point. To score a goal. 

I know it's ludicrously simplistic but if (and however unlikely that would be) I was the manager on Saturday, my approach would be to say 'I don't care if you come back having lost, I don't want you back in the dressing room if you've not taken a risk to get us up the pitch and in on goal... Not you though Marvin... Definitely not you.' 

For me, that includes the speed with which Grimmy throws out, the way the defenders run into the space in front of them, the midfielders not running to offer an extra man, the wing backs positioning and so on. 

If we're going to get anywhere, it has to be at least a little bit this way. He's not stupid. Far from it. He knows it. He knows that bawling them out after Tuesday would serve no purpose. other than to risk their fragile confidence gained from the clean sheets He knows we need to be quicker. He knows that we need a bit of fearlessness. How can he not?  

This is where fans have to decide what they want. you can sit on the sidelines and critique every mistake and point our what a player 'should have done' after something has gone wrong - but generally, in order to break down the kind of side we'll face over and over again - tough, physical, well drilled, men behind the ball, you need someone to try and dribble or hit a risky pass or try a shot. If we want that, we've got to support the intent, even when the execution is off. These players are not full of confidence. There's quite a high proportion of water carriers amongst them. The manager is possibly a little bruised from his experiences last season. It's a natural human inclination to avoid doing things which might lead to criticism. To play the safe pass. To not make the run yourself. Over to someone else. Sideways, sideways. Pass. Sideways. 

It's like we're knocking politely on the opposition door and being told 'no thanks, not today' and then retreating into our own half waiting for tomorrow to ask again. It's patient, yes, but it's also exactly what a lot of teams would like us to do at home (and perhaps away at times) because a point is a point and we're a bigger fish now. 

Critch is Critch is Critch.

Can we just enjoy football? If it's boring as fuck again can we ole Jimmy to Marv to Casey to Norburn to Casey to Grimmy to Norburn to Jimmy to Casey (etc) and cheer wildly whenever it ends up with Grimmy putting his foot through it?  Can we appreciate Matty Virtue burrowing through and then slipping as he shoots because at least he tried? Can we make Bees feel like ten men cos he's the nearest we've got to one and half men? Can we fucking chant Jimmy Husband's name because he's been one of our best players this season probably and he's played hundreds of games for us and never shirks or lets up? 

I know we need new players, I know the summer nights are starting to draw in and autumn is standing in the shadows with a cloak of darkness and decay. I know life is often grey and we want colour and joy from our football, but hey. This is League One. Sometimes you just have to make your own fun.

To take a productive risk you need to feel safe.

Get behind them. They're ours. 

Leyton Orient. I dunno. Barry Hearn, Clapham Orient. Richard Wellens. I always liked Wellens despite him being a panto villain these days. We could really use him now in midfield (even though we've got 800 players for that position.) I've nothing more to say on them really other than it's weird how they're a London club but they've never been bought out by some investment fund. They must look at someone like Brentford and think 'fucking hell, what have they got that we haven't got? - How come we got fucked over and they got the Premier League?' 

I always assume every London club is just a heartbeat away from being bought by a Texan or Saudi billionaire and building a 75,000 seater stadium. I really like that Leyton Orient is just about the opposite of that. Every time I go to London, I'm always a bit taken aback that actual people live there who aren't supermodels or investment bankers and bits of it aren't that good and are kind of like Blackpool (or indeed Layton) with a tube station. They're kind of the Port Vale of London so to speak and again, I'm good with that. 

Why are they called Orient* though? It's another good thing about them. Aston Villa (what villa? whose villa?), Billingham Synthonia (it's an ICI product). Castleton Gabriels (angels?), Blackpool Mechanics (are they still mechanics?). Oswaltwhistle Immanuelle (ok, they're a cricket club, but it's still a good name) and so on - I love a club with a weird name. When football inevitably collapses in on itself into a league of global franchises then there won't be a fraction of the poetry in names like 'London Lions' and 'Riyadh Royals' 

Give them hell. They're not ours. 

Blackpool 27-0 Leyton Orient

Onwards. 

*It's because the O from off of P+O Ferries (the 'Orient Shipping Company' which would later merge to become Penninsular and Orient Steam Company) was partly behind their origins financially. So, in a way it's very modern. It's like a team starting up in a random place and being called 'Peckham Uber' or something. We'd probably all get well het up about that and how it wasn't traditional. Goes to show. What I'm not sure... 

Tweet

 You can follow MCLF on facebook or Twitter 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

Read More

'On the front foot' - the Mighty v Port Vale.

A picture that possibly suggests a degree of drama that really wasn't present. 

On the way to the game, I saw a bloke riding a bike. He had a massive carrier bag on one handlebar, a lopsided backback on and he was ranting into a phone. The bike was a racer, with those old fashioned rams horn type drop handlebars. His situation was a bit precarious. He wobbled, he lurched and then he shot off suddenly towards a wall and had to turn in an impossibly tight circle to avoid hitting it. With one hand. He set off again. He repeated the feat. I had to admire his manic balancing act. 

That was probably the most exciting thing about tonight. I bet Neil Critchley ALWAYS keeps two hands on his handlebars and any luggage appropriately tied on with bungee cords on the designated carrier. He'll have both reflectors and lights. Probably in the day light. Can't be too cautious. 

I imagine he cycles in a very sensible manner, whilst planning his tactical masterclasses and deciding whether he's going to spend Sunday at Dunhelm Mill or Laura Ashley. They both do great beige things. It's a tough choice. 

I imagine him ringing Mike on a break, taking a swig from his water bottle (weak lemon cordial) and removing his phone from the waterproof and reflective strip clad bumbag he's wearing with his keys and stuff in before dialling him up... 

'Big Mike! Yes, it's me. I've got it! You know how Port Vale lost 7-0? Well, the last thing they're going to expect is us to keep everyone deep and defend. If we do that, they'll get bored then Sullay will do a bit of magic' 

'Boss, I'll double check with Steve's blue folder, but I don't think we've got Sullay anymore?' 

'Why not?' 

'You let him go...' 

'Oh. Right. Well, that's no problem. I'll just play Josh. Josh will have one of his moments and we'll be home and hosed quicker than you can say 'we do a lot of work on shape, both inandoutofpossession - ask Ian about it will you' 

'Boss I don't know where Ian is. I last saw him on Monday but he had a disguise on and said 'don't tell anyone you saw me' and disappeared looking a bit worried, you know how he is... also there's one problem with your plan, I mean, it's great as usual boss, but...' 

'Don't tell me we haven't got Josh either!... Oh, bloody hell. Well, don't worry, Jerry will come good. I'm telling you Mike, we just shut up shop and one of our trickier lads will get the goal' 

--- 

In the first half we were inexplicably timid. It was really boring. I can't remember very much. I'll do my best. Sideways. Sideways. Back. Sideways. Lift it up and over. Shayne runs on. Hard luck Shayne. 

Sonny is trying some little flicks and looking to make something happen. The rest of the team stand on the halfway line. Why isn't he passing it backwards? He gets booked for diving for being tripped. 

Marvin does a weird thing where it looks as if he's stuck in a loop, just rubbing his foot on top of the ball like a horse pawing the ground for ages before making a horrible pass. I think he's probably been standing too close to Grimmy and his cloud of smoke. 

Vale score. It's offside. 

We give the ball away. Vale flash a shot just wide. 

We have a little spell when (checks notes, nope, it's right, even though I haven't actually got any notes) Jimmy Husband comes and joins the attack and even though Super Jim isn't the worlds greatest attacking player, the novelty of having a left footed player in a position he's comfortable to deliver and receive the ball in makes us look threatening for a little bit. 

There are not many thrills and spills. 

--- 

The central midfield was way too deep. Every team in the division seems to have had the note about 'Marvin will pass it to Norburn' and we're caught out thus several times. Morgan and Dougall are nowhere near Sonny. There's no point playing him as an actual striker cos he isn't an actual striker but we seem to have done so. Shayne makes runs, Sonny drifts about, but no one at all goes in any of the space they open up. We look about as potent as a queue for a Viagra clinic. 

--- 

Things improve a bit. Morgan has definitely got more advanced. We have a bit more intent. We do some things that could be described as 'attacking' 

It's a struggle though to recall that much. I remember thinking 'this is a bit better' and then looking at the clock and realising ten minutes had gone without anything really happening. 

Lavs (I think) flashes a header just over, or onto the bar. Beesley comes on and gives us a bit more presence. He gets onto the end of a cross (I think from Jimmy) and puts it narrowly over. 

Lyons gradually comes into the game and has a couple of far post runs. CJ does CJ things like making a really nice run but leaving the ball behind. He works hard. Virtue comes on and crashes into people and tries to make something happen. Jensen Weir comes on and has a shot that is encouraging in it's intent, even if it doesn't make it to the goal line. CJ has a shot that gets an 'ooh' in the South until we realise it's actually missed the penalty area and possibly ended up further way from the goal than it was when it left his boot. 

Marvin makes a brilliant run and challenge to halt Vale's only real threatening moment. In another attack, they look as if they might be away, but they're not. I watch Grimmy, he reads it beautifully, he's chasing ready to come out, but then he just stops. Dead. Steps back. It's like watching an animal, he's so in tune. He's fucking ninja or something. Love Grimmy me. With his big shorts. 

Marvin measures one of those diagonals and puts into row 12 of the east. There is general disgruntlement.  

Time ticks by. Jimmy is immense. He's on the left wing. He's at centre back. He really is very good. Casey is decent too in a similar vein but I think Lyons' quality makes the left flank more productive. 

We're attacking but we don't think we're going to score. I don't think we're going to score. There's one more effort at the keeper. It's right at him. We don't score. 

--- 

One of the reasons why I wasn't hugely keen on reading Critch part 2 is that I know the story. It's about solidity. It's about percentages. It's about process. I feel like I've written this blog about 30 times already. It was dismal as a spectacle. It was flat. It wasn't 'front foot football' and there was neither death nor glory. 

I also know that, actually, we've got a very effective defence, on the back of a season where our defence was so hideous that records should be locked in a concrete vault under the sea forever, like nuclear waste. I know that football is made of fine margins and we were a couple of feet away from winning both this and Exeter and Grimmy hasn't made a meaningful save in either game. I know we need better players in certain positions (wing back for certain and without a fit Joseph, a striker at least) and that Critch is long term thinker who will plan for what he wants and get the fundamentals right so those players slot into a system that already functions. 

I know all that. I've already read this book. We always struggle against sides that come for a point and are physical. I hope we can skip to the bit where we're a tight, coiled attacking spring a bit quicker than last time because we just lacked both belief in our own attacking ability and the individual (be it Madine, by force of presence and brute will or a player (Keshi, Bowler, Embleton, Kaikai etc) with a moment of impudent improvisation or the fearlessness to just get at them. Jimmy Husband really, really, really was the best attacking player. 

Perhaps overlapping centre-backs are the new master class? They're certainly fucking difficult to mark. 

Onward!   

Tweet

You can follow MCLF on facebook or Twitter 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

Read More

Terrible Preview: the Mighty vs Port Vale

Goals!

And we're off. Football is back in all its awful bipolar glory and we're all swinging like a mentalist pendulum between ecstasy and angry frustration on Saturday/Tuesday/Saturday again timetable.

The Pool have started well. It's been 'quite good' - some are concerned it's not been 'really good' but that's the Neil Critchley way - if you're 'quite good' most of the time then you'll be reet. Some of us might prefer more visceral thrills but Neil Critchley is employed to win football matches and he's sure as hell going to make sure he can win by trying not to lose and who am I to argue with him?

The proof is in the pudding. I'd like to imagine that were he were on Bake Off, Critchley would produce the same kind of very carefully measured and neat looking cake every week. He'd do well in the technical challenges but the show stopper would lack a certain flair. He'd get to the later rounds. You could rely on him not to let himself down but if you're looking for that moment of high drama when chocolate fingers, raspberry mouse and sambuca are sculpted into a fully functional recreation patisserie of the explosion of Pompei, then you're maybe going to need to look elsewhere.

I googled 'terrible cakes' and this came up. It has nothing to do with the article. There are no hidden scrotal metaphors or owt and I can't imagine Critch inflicting or recieving such an injury, nor, even if he did, being the recipient or creator of an apology cake but it made me laugh so there we are. 

Of course, the reason we love (actually, I don't, Bake off is a weird, twee load of shit, but (bread) roll with it cos I'm not going back and rewriting it) the showstopper is the balance between risk and reward. There's a good chance that the cake volcano is a disaster, the liquor lava bubbles for a bit but the whole thing collapses in on itself and actually, Neil Critchley's meticulously crafted lemon drizzle loaf is the one that has the judges purring in an innuendo filled way. 'Oooh, very impish... cackle' 'Is that a twinkle in your eye Neil, or are you just happy with your baking? fnah...' 'Oooh, greasy paper Neil, very naughty!' 

FFS, this is a low point. 

There isn't a 'right' way to win football games or promotions is what this horrific and needlessly divergent metaphor is saying. I'm not sure how Critch would respond to the flirty overtones mind. Probably with an 'erm...' and then a speech about the group and baking being a process. 

I also think it's almost inevitable that three weeks after this article, the BFC media team will have Jake Beesley and Jimmy Husband in a kitchen knocking up some rice crispy cakes for Gaz Madine and Matthew Pennington to sample and judge and I won't get any fucking credit for it. Bastards. 

THEFT! 

All this (except the bit immediately above which is indulgent shite) is really a way of bringing an essentially existential footballing debate to mind - what is football for? Is it actually just about 'winning' and nowt else?

It's essentially a spectator sport. People pay money to watch it. That's the sole reason it's a professional thing. Most people who watch games have some kind of affiliation with a team so have an interest in the outcome - even watching a game as a neutral, usually you can find some reason to want the came to go one way or another.

The game at Exeter was exactly what I expected from Critchley - it was competent in a slightly boring way. I don't mean that critically. I mean that last year we were a clown car, fuelled by the diesel of disaster, that had run over a landmine of calamity and now we're solid. now we're drilled, now we have shape. That's not to be sniffed at. It was also quite dull.

Lets take it to the ridiculous extreme for a moment.

If we don't concede any goals but manage to score about 35 spread out over a few games, we'll walk the league by miles. Being boring wins stuff. As a kid, I always found Liverpool boring. They seemed like a machine. I find Man City, for all their technical ability and occasionally breathtaking interplay, quite boring because they stifle games, they make them one sided. Critchley is magnificent at killing a game if he thinks he needs to. At times his work is as 'anti exciting football' as any rugged long ball merchant you can think of. Pressing and ball retention works to dull the sharp edges of a game as well as hoofball and reducers on creative players. We venerate the technical, but technicality without flair is robotic.

Fans always say 'I only care about winning' and 'I'd take 1-0 before kick of every week' - it's a macho badge of honour to an extent but if you take that to the extreme, I'm not sure that winning 1-0 when you only had one shot, every week forever would remain a particularly satisfying experience. It would be like having the same meal everyday. That's kind of the ultimate goal of the modern manager. Control a game from kick off and don't concede possession. A goal is in a way a concession of possession and thus the ideal game is hold the ball for 90 mins and score just before the end so the other team don't get to kick off. 

Lads, have a kickabout. I'm off to the golf course and for a bev after. See you Saturday. 442 etc. Barnesy, don't bring your fucking clown shoes. 

Some of my favourite teams weren't actually very good at winning stuff. My favourite ever Blackpool side is the Steve McMahon team. His coaching was, to say the least 'light touch' and the players had freedom. When they used it, it was truly breathtaking. Often, that freedom backfired and you never really knew what you were going to get - would this week be an utter shambles where some shite team would run through you, or would you play the kind of football that honestly, genuinely, no word of a lie, would likely beat almost anyone. Sometimes the same dichotomy could be compressed into one 45 minute period. You'd go 2-0 up (or down) then score or concede 3. It's probably unfair to say Macca didn't win stuff. He actually did, I think he's technically the most trophied manager in our history but we couldn't ever make a serious impression at the top of league 1 and yes, that was down to the tightfisted budget control of Karl to a large degree, but also, you always felt that we were somehow not quite practising the boring things enough.

I remember really wanting Kevin Keegan to make England work. I loved how genuinely excited he was about football. Pep and co, I dunno, it bores me a bit. It's all so studious and technical and serious. Keegan was Macmahon plus. He just got a load of lads and said 'righto, enjoy yourselves' and they did.

They didn't actually win anything. He ended up imploding into 'I'd love it' near tears but Keegan lives on in the memory for sure. Again, you always felt as if Newcastle might be served a little bit better practising boring things even if the sense that training was mostly 5 a side and headers and volleys made you like them because actually, football should be fun.

If you want to be remembered, you need to win trophies???

Compare Keegan with say... Howard Wilkinson. He won stuff. Leeds actually won the league with him just a few years before Keegan's Newcastle prime - but Wilkinson with his functional and highly pragmatic style isn't really revered. George Graham won a bucket load, but arguably names like Malcom Allison and Terry Venables who really didn't get all that much done (but did both possess personal flair and put out teams that played with it too) seem to come up more in retrospect than Gorgeous George. Yes, he had some dodgy shit going on, but Clough hasn't been written out of history in the way Graham seems to be.

Even individual players have that quality. You can combine the medals of George Best, Stanley Matthews and Alan Shearer and get not very many. Shearer played with a magnificent power. He was a raw thrill. Best and Matthews were very different versions of the unplayable dribbling maverick. You can name any number of functional figures whose individual medals outstrip that legendary trio - lets say, Steve Nicol, Phil Neville and Nigel Winterburn.

I don't really know what I'm saying here beyond the obvious weakness in my point above, in that wingers and strikers are more exciting than full backs... . I think I'm saying that actually, in some ways it's not always about winning. That we yearn for shots and scrambles and feints, dribbles, crosses and tight seesawing games. 

It's natural for us to want that. Yes, we have a strange and in many ways unexplainable desire to see our teams win games, but we're there to be entertained as well. We're there for the precarious and the unpredictable. It's natural for managers to eschew that in favour of the things that actually win you stuff. They're not us. I think I'm trying to square Critchball (which evolves, but remains essentially about the same things) with my natural love of the idiosyncratic. I revered Josh Bowler, I passively accepted Ollie Turton. I loved the gawky Gandulliet, I found the hard running Chris Long a bit boring. 

I think that's my problem. I've a short attention span. I want new things now and stuff takes time. Critchley has foundations to build and he's building them. The most beautiful architecture in the world looks quite plain and functional whilst it's still at the level of concrete footings and steel frames. That, relatively speaking is where we're at. Critchley's patience is one his best assets. He'll take his time. Players need that. I just hope we can see a bit more of the elegance and aesthetics as the season goes on. Lets have more of the Derby 50 pass moves but this time, Sonny belts it home. Ideally in the last minute in Horwich to win the game 7-6. Lets have the first half against Burton again and go and get 5. I don't really care if we concede 2 in the bargain. 

Football fans are inherently unreasonable aren't they? I want us to do all the sensible things and yet also be a brakes off, carefree, playful and joy filled football feast. You could say, I want to have my cake and to eat it. I'd be an absolutely horrific football manager. Trust Critch, not me... 

Anyway...

On the topic of Dutch things, that 70s Holland side are another one that won nowt but everyone remembers... 

Port Vale. In my formative years, they seemed quite 'big' - they'd turn up with millions of fans, beat us and sing loads. Both the team and the fans seemed massive physically. Yet, they're not. I suppose it's how kids now don't find it odd that Burnley are a bit of a top flight fixture or that Bournemouth (Bournemouth!) are similar. You assume things are the way they are when you come to it - it's only later you realise it's all in flux. It's kind of weird though, how the mid 90s Port Vale team is very possibly their best ever - they had a similar period in the 20s of doing ok in Div 2 but that's it. I know compared to many our history isn't littered with trophies but we've done alright, we've had our highs for sure. It's not how much you win or how often, it's the sheer quality of those wins that matter really isn't it? 

It'll be nice for Mike to see his lad... 

It's kind of strange that they've never done better than Robin Vanderlaan etc. That feels kind of weird, cos they're not a tiny club either, they're not, I dunno, Stevenage or something. Recent years have been a shit show and they're on a more even keel now - but given almost everyone who've been around for a bit has at some point or other has had a season in the sun or won something, it's odd that they've never really even looked particularly close to doing so. I can't even remember any particular giant killing. They're just 'there' and in an area where all of the teams seem to have a kind of functional, industrial dowdiness, they outshine even the likes of West Brom, Stoke, Birmingham etc in that respect. I quite like them for that. You can't fail to respect a side that still turn out in numbers after more than a century of doing very little. 

It's that dogged and ridiculous commitment that makes football what it is, every bit as much as triumphs and trophy lifts. Being a City or Utd fan is a piece of piss. Vale have been through the wringer. 

I also liked this on John Rudge who managed them for a million years... 

"Though he got his teams to play good football he was meticulous and rather cautious. He thoroughly researched opposition players and informed his players on weaknesses to exploit and strengths to watch out for. He was reluctant to use substitutions unless a player was injured as he believed in the first XI he had selected could get the job done over the ninety minutes. He tended not to lose his temper after a bad performance, and instead Robbie Earle said that he had the "ability to make you feel guilty about playing badly"

I know Critch has become a bit more substituty of late - but doesn't that all sound a bit 'Critch?' - I can imagine him giving it the whole 'I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed' business in the changing room. Shit fell apart for Vale when Rudge left... 

Still not sure what I'm saying but anyway, you don't not pay me for coherent, useful, knowledge filled previews of upcoming matches do you? C'mon the Pool! Fire, flair, fight. Attack. Attack. Attack!!! 

Blackpool 27 - 0 Port Vale (Carey 27)

(But offer me 1-0 before kick off and I'll take it... obvs) 

Onwards! 

Tweet 

You can follow MCLF on facebook or Twitter 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

Read More

New season dawns grey - Montrose vs Kelty Hearts

Montrose is an odd place. It is both genteel and hard faced. It's got a seaside feel but it's definitely also a port. It feels like it might have once been grand but that some time ago everyone stopped coming. I'd describe it as a mash up of Southport, Cleveleys but with a heavy air of Fleetwood at the same time. There's a hotel (closed) that advertises 'Luncheons.' I consider using the word in my everyday speech just to bring a bit of the 1950s into the world. I wonder when society decided that the 'eon' was disposable. Probably around the time people stopped using 'ruddy' as as a curse. Anyway. It's past luncheon and time for fitba.

Links Park is quite a lot of breezeblocks. There is a seal in shoes so big he can't walk very fast. In the pre match mascot kick about he looks worried his head might fall off. He has an aura of depressed resignation. Whether it's the prospects of Montrose, the prospects of warming oceans or a combination of both, it's hard to say but the seal seems sad.

One of my favourite things about fitba is that when you get to a certain level some of the players look like real people. One of the Montrose lads suspiciously like he has a comb over. Another is decidedly big boned and loses all the shuttle runs by a margin.

Up the other end Kelty Hearts who I assume are named in tribute to yer actual Hearts look a bit leaner and fitter. A Montrose player shanks his warm up shot. "fuckin hell, pish!!!" he castigates himself. The bloke behind me is incandescent with the manager "why the fuck has he picked Watson?'

The fella in front of me has treated himself to two pies, one in each hand.. He spends the first half in silence eating them in small bites with a metronomic rhythm. It's quite hypnotic.

---

Montrose start well. They look neat enough. Watson it turns out is the lad with the comb over. I pretend he's Bobby Charlton and actually, it's not a ridiculous comparison. He spread a great pass several times, he's neat and clever with short balls and gets on the end of things twice as well. Montrose have a fleet footed forward who several times outruns Kelty's backline. Each time he makes the wrong choice or perhaps doesn't really have a choice because the Mighty Mo don't get anyone up with him.

The no 9 who had the warm up melt down misses a chance. He lets fly more self loathing. The fella behind me is a fair judge of the game. "He's had stinker, but aye, Watson has been the best player"

As the half progresses Kelty come into it more. They're largely limited to shots from distance but Montrose efforts are few and far between.

The most entertaining aspect of this period is the attempt by one fella to get the crowd going by chanting a non stop stream of songs, which bleed one into the other, sometimes switching half way through. Some praise the players, some declare hatred for Arbroath, but my favourite is "we hate 0-0, we hate 0-0" repeated for ages and followed up by "give us one! Just one!" At no point does anyone even half consider joining in with him. He is undeterred.

There's a gaggle of kids in the far corner. They have a drum. I'm not sure any of them know how to play it. Samba football it is not. Samba drumming it is neither. For no discernable reason the stewards take umbridge with the kids. "Leave thae kids alone aye!" bellows the otherwise silent man in front of me.

---

0-0

---

The open plan nature of Links Park stretches to allowing fans to walk freely round all four sides of the ground. The year 8 ultras head off behind the opposite goal to occasionally offer further unsteady percussive support. I decide to stand on the halfway line. I rarely sit on the side and whenever I do, I'm always struck by the fact the pitch looks much shorter.

This half is marked by a sense of injustice. The big angry forward has turn his rage outward now, berating the linesman with a force and persistence that quite endears him to me. Montrose then score from a corner but it's ruled out for a push on the keeper and there's howls of injustice.

Again, after a bright start, Kelty come into it and soon they're ahead. No one stands out for them, but they're compact and organised and can move the ball quite quickly. The first goal comes by driving at the Montrose defence but rather than any great skill or team play, it's a calamitous series of misskicks, airkicls and Montrose defenders falling over that presents them the ball on a plate.

There's an instant response. A few subs including sadly, the excellent (and 37 year old) Watson leaving the pitch. I'm glad that in 2023 there's still room for a comb over. Montrose have by far their best move, spinning it down the left, exchanging passes and cutting it to the edge of the box for the angry striker who wriggles some space and crashes an excellent effort against the post. More anger.

Kelty bring on a sub. Whenever I watch Scottish games, there's always a player who's played for loads of clubs (so you'd imagine he'd be shit) but who looks really good and leaves me wondering why he's played at this level for so long. Botti Biabi is this games' man. He's had a peripatetic career, including Swansea, Falkirk, Ebbsfleet, Brechin and is in his second Kelty spell and on 70 mins he's backing into his man, and dragging the ball with him before scooping it, spinning and running onto his own touch. It's absolutely brilliant and leaves the Montrose defender baffled. It's a touch from a game at a different level. The line between what is and what could have been is rizla thin.

There's an inevitability to the second goal which is swept home by Biabi. The ultras troop out singing 'we're going down' which given as it's the first noise from the crowd other than "fucking hell ref" kind of sums up the fatalism that must be bred by watching windswept football far from the glamour infused elite. The softly spoken fella to the side of me is less expressive but mutters something rueful about Montrose looking 'mair like Dad's bloody Army than a fitba team'

The remaining minutes pass with what I think is the Kelty directors (a tight knit group at the centre of the main stand) celebrating wildly when ever there's a throw in. I think they're playing the outstanding game of 'pass the money down the row whenever the ball goes out of play and whoever holds it at the final whistle wins" - a game that is deeply underated and possibly better than football itself.

---

We're done. Montrose were a wee bit (I've gone native) hard done by but I'd be surprised if they have a great season. I could be wrong, I often am.

I'm off. Into the town. It's grey.

It often is.

Normal service will resume shortly.

Onward!

Tweet

You can follow MCLF on facebook or Twitter 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

Read More