I scared the cat : the Mighty vs Hull City

This lad tho. 

I'm getting a bit tired of the blogging. I started it cos I liked writing about stuff that happens at football matches. I read one of my early ones and I didn't actually talk that much about the game, more about the surroundings, journeys, weather, opposition crowd, the general atmosphere and else that crossed my vision and hearing. Since then it's become more of a shit knock off Evening Gazette report and less about capturing the essence. More detail but less vivid. But then, what's vivid about sitting on a couch watching a screen?

Just imagine being there. It's a crisp, cool, still night, mid December, the cold in your nostrils, your breath coming out in clouds and your hands thrust deep in your pockets as you stride towards the ground. We're playing the top of the league. Coming from wherever you come from and seeing the white floodlight haze in the distance, outshining the garish colours of decorations on every other house you pass. Reaching the ground and that thronging crowd that seems to circulate round the base of the stands. Police horses shuffling, flanks steaming. Scanning the ticket, the funny little moment where you push the turnstile and a tiny part of you wonders if it will turn. 

Then you're in. Under the stand and there's expectancy and chatter. It's coming up to holidays, people are busy, planning, drinking, having parties at work. Snatches of conversation about reckless nights out and hungover regret, what the fuck to buy her for Christmas, "we'll have to meet up, have a few scoops mate, give us a bell yeah?!" and  "fucking hell, it's gonna clean me out this Christmas..."

Then, up to your seat, nodding, 'alright mate' as you pass by people you know and people you don't but see every week. The team on the screen. More chatter, 'I'd have played Yates and Madine me', 'I dunno mate, maybe he's resting them and swapping them about...' Then, the drum, the singing, the north filling up, the away fans posturing, giving a few volleys of some song you don't know and the north answering with one you do. 

The warm up ending, the last players leaving, the fucking sprinkler is going, even though it's pissed down for days, maybe some lads with forks, walking the pitch looking at stuff only they can see, prodding and tamping at what seems like random. Songs playing, subdued calm before the storm... 

Then, you're on your feet, 'c'mon you Blackpool fans, put your hands together...', the applause now drowning the PA and exploding to a roar as you hear... 'The Seasiders! Drum going again, urgent this time, players jogging on the spot, bouncing, stretching, the ground now a cauldron of noise, nerves, anticipation and just a hint of dread. 

This is football. This is what it's about. Not VAR or XG, not contract sagas or primadonna complaints about schedules, not twitter spats and fan TV and fucking pundits talking shite. None of that. Football, now and in the moment, anything could happen, tragedy, triumph, and all in between... and as the ref blows, the crowd rises again and we're off. It's us, vs top of the league and I wouldn't be anywhere else for all the money in the world. 

--- 

Except it's not quite like that is it. 

--- 

Critch has gone with one in the middle again. What have Gary and Jerry done? It's like a teacher keeping two lads apart cos of the influence they have on each other, except the influence in this case seems wholly positive. It's back to lonely Jerry but also back to Luke Garbutt's free kicks, Ethan Robson's midfield class, Ollie Turton's glorious checking back and Keshi's barrelling runs.

Early pressure from both sides, Hull head past the near post... Pool respond with a bit of CJ action. Both sides are chucking everything at this and there's no time on the ball for anyone. 

CJ runs onto Robson's ball, there's a back heel back to Keshi whose effort causes some gratifying calamity when the keeper drops it and then seems to dive into the post as he scrambles to redeem himself. 

Anderson again on the edge of the box striking it again but this time it ricochets square to Sullay who lays it on to Garbutt. The classy one strikes it well and it arrows just past the far post... 

Hull put it over the top and somehow aren't offside. No matter though as Maxwell is out and taking it quickly from the Hull forward who shows the first touch of a brick. 

From a corner, Hull clear but Sullay dinks it back in first time, it's nodded across goal where it strikes Tom Eaves and forces the keeper to sprawl backwards. I'm convinced its gone over the line but the ref says no, the spoilsport. An own goal from the poundshop Andy Carroll who always scores against us would have been grand. 

Pool have had the better chances but then Maxwell makes a rare bad clearance, gifting Hull possession, one pass and a strike from the edge of the box and a good diving catch and we've got away with it. Hull put a bit of pressure on but we break like lightning, Dougall to Sullay to Keshi then CJ, striding into the box and shooting, low, hard but at a defender... Then Hull come again, a quick ball from the right, lethal looking angle, falling just right for a first time snapshot, Eaves (of all the people you don't want to see there) is running onto it but there's Marvin with a sliding challenge that is as good as anything you will see anywhere in any game. He just gets up like it's just another thing and gets on with loping about as he does.  

The game takes a breather, a few long balls are traded. Hull strike one from deep, Maxwell watches it wide. Pool have a nice move where we pass across the back, going nowhere, one side to the other and back then explode into action, up the pitch in quick passes but Keshi doesn't quite read Sullay's ball at the end. 

Then Hull score. swung in from the left, Wilks gets goal side of Garbutt, it looks like his first touch is heavy but he stretches brilliant and hooks it beyond the keeper. It's a great finish. Imagine the hollow sound if fans were in and the roar of defiance as we kick off... 

Sullay makes space beautifully, he's not been great, but that was a nice touch, he slips it through for CJ who darts onto it and the keeper sprawls at his feet.

Dougall takes a free kick from deep, very quickly spotting CJ in space... Hamilton doesn't disappoint chasing it into the corner then pulling it across for Keshi who turns, runs across the box, I'm thinking 'fucks sake Keshi, just have go' but eventually he spreads for Garbutt arriving from left back. The classy one takes a few strides forward, all the time in the world and crosses, low and hard to the far post, Sullay sticks out a foot hopefully but it's lonely Jerry at the far post to tap it home. Fucking get in!

Imagine the bedlam! 

--- 

I was going to write something about Yates up front on his own, that goal's fucked that up. 1-1 is probably fair. CJ again has been good, I've enjoyed the way he's worked across the line and appeared in the middle at times. For his faults, he just keeps going... Keshi and Sullay have been a bit peripheral and Yates hasn't been seen in the box aside from his tap in. For once, I don't know if I'd stick or twist. Aside from my perennial wish to see the goal machine I'd be tempted to give Dan Kemp some time if Sullay/Keshi don't get more into the game. It's one of those where you can see us winning it or them smacking two goals in quick fashion...  

---

Second half starts with us looking weirdly languid and letting them run through the middle. Marvin slides and cuts out a through ball but they come again, working it left where they've acres of space for a shot which Maxwell does well to save. 

A procession of crosses and corners follow which only end when Maxwell gets a crack on the head and what looks like a cuddle from the ref as he checks his health. Hull pressure soon starts up again, a strange moment included where they're racing free, Gretarsson gets walloped in the face and emergency treatment then the ref restarts by setting up a perfect drop ball for them to whip it straight in. Nothing comes from it though.  

It's ten minutes before we have an attack and a further five before anything resembling an effort, Sullay putting it across the box but half a yard behind Yates. Then it's the mighty Goal Machine for Sullay, 2 up front and the dream team united once more. 

Hull keep coming, Keshi sliding in dangerously conceding a frightening free kick they can't take advantage of, Marvin blocking on the edge of the box and the ball ricocheting into Maxwell's hands

Then, a huge kick forward, Madine is there and his presence alone is worth an assist as he just leans on the defender and distracting by the Goal Machine their centre half just lets the ball goes through. Keshi picks it up wide, cuts inside and then smashes it home, a beauty into the bottom corner. So far Keshi has been poor but that's an absolutely storming finish. Imagine the roar, it's one of those that comes as a shock and is immediately followed by renewed tension... 

And Hull come again. A horrible ball to the near post scrambled away. Chaos from a corner, Marvin heading it out as Maxwell comes to catch. A long up and under and we're looking shaky but in the end holding firm. Hull are passing on the edge of the box, looking for a way through, spreading play. 

Then Madine is about again from a floated Garbutt free kick, rising, flicking it into the 6 yard box, it comes off someone and strikes the post, bounces out and of all people on the pitch drops to Marvin who looks like a schoolkid as he tries to very carefully side foot it home but sees it blocked away. 

Then Hull attack some more. Pool mistakes abound, players are getting tired, Virtue replaces Robson, it's scrappy, heavy touches, wild efforts. Marvin is a force of nature. You can tell Yates is knackered when his legs get bowed and he trudges rather than sprints after the ball. Woodburn comes on. The minutes go down further. Gretarsson gets another smack in the face then an evil moment where it hits the side netting but looks for all the world like a goal as the Viking desperately intercepts a cross. We can hang on here... We can do this. Just imagine that crowd, each clearance cheered, the nerves, the hoarse voices. 

But we can't. A corner, a big lad up from the back and a header. Maxwell goes after it but to no avail. The net bulges. It's that sort of header. Imagine the deflation, that horrible tinny cheer of away fans. Seats kicked, programmes thrown down. People turning for the exit. 

Then...  from a free kick, the ball is bouncing around, Marvin goes up and shows vision to find CJ with a header, he's free, in acres of space and striking it hard at the near post but the keeper is there and it's a corner. Garbutt goes deep with the delivery, Madine goes round the back, nods it back across and someone is on it, it's over the top, corner? No... That's it surely. If that stopped the leavers in their tracks, surely now they're heading down the steps. 

Then it's Keshi with a little diagonal change of direction, Woodburn first time, Madine the same and it's CJ!!!!! YES!!!! It's one touch brilliance and CJ bursts through and slips it home. I FUCKING LOVE THIS TEAM! 

Oh my fucking days. Imagine the crowd now. People falling down the steps in the North. People going over rows of seats. Strangers hugged, 20, 30 seconds of just screaming, pure screaming, jut joy, elation, total and utter release. Breathless, dizzy fucking mental joy. Then a breath and turning to their fans and regaling them as they leave. Then Tony Parr with "The Seasiders' goal scorer on 93 minutes, no 22 CJ HAMILTON!!!" and we'd be off again. 

Hold on Pool. It's Marvin heading away. Again. In the real world I've had a bollocking for jumping about and shouting and scaring the cat. It's nearly over... Nearly over. C'mon.... 

IT'S OVER! 

What scenes there would be. Players applauding the fans, socks down, fists clenched. They've given everything and we couldn't have asked for more. One of those nights when you could stay in the ground forever. 

---

What a game. I don't know where to begin. Marvin has been immense and Gretarsson not half bad either. Like a brick wall and a glacier or something though I'm not sure how that would work in practice. Fuck the weird metaphors, they've been simply fucking brilliant against some of the most horrible angular, rough but pretty fucking decent forwards they'll face. 

The rest of them, I don't know. No one has stood out especially but on a night when we've played against as good a team as we will likely face and when it's not especially gone for any of our forwards, the work rate and belief to keep going, keep trying has been the main thing. CJ was up against a decent full back but he kept coming short, moving, trying the middle, coming out right again, kept showing time and time again and he got the reward at the end. Keshi was having a really quite poor match but then shifted onto the left scored one and made one and really put a shift in defensively in the last part. 

Hull were decent. They'll probably think they didn't make enough of their possession and create enough chances but you can tell a decent team by the way they hold themselves, move the ball around, move off the ball and so on and that was a decent side. Top 3 without a question. Only Charlton and Ipswich have had that same vibe this year. Maybe, just maybe, we're starting to get that. Fuck knows though. Live in the moment and fuck all the over thinking and endless dissection of everything. What a game, what a way to win it. 

Credit to Critchley though, his subs have been questionable at times, but tonight he's got it right. Madine made a difference and was part of both goals when he came on, Woodburn part of the third and Keshi improved with the switch. 

I haven't got any more in me. What a game. 

Just imagine if we'd been there. 


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Shut up and show the football

When I was a kid there weren't that many pundits. There was the avuncular Saint and the impish Greavsie, the sainted Sir Jim, the other Jimmy, (the one with the chin) and a few others I can't really remember. For sure, the newspapers would have columns written by stars of yesteryear and the Beeb would wheel out Geoff Hurst every now and again to chat to Bob Wilson during the World Cup but the role of the pundit seemed a fairly low key one, mostly giving a balanced view, perhaps comparing a situation to one they faced as a player or a manager and maybe explaining a tactical switch or speculating about the likelihood of substitute. 

Not prone to pointless wind ups and pseudo controversy

Fast forward to today and it seems that they're everywhere. Radio 5 and Talksport, Sky, BT, podcasts and more offering opinions, opinions, opinions. You can't scroll down twitter without a quote or a selectively edited piece of expertise from someone who played a few seasons for Charlton being debated as if it's ancient Chinese wisdom. 

I remember when 606 started, hosted by Danny Baker. It was a funny and lively show in which Baker prompted discussion of football as a whole, including the rituals and experiences of the most important people in the game, the ones who allow it to be a professional sport - the supporters. I still play a game I heard on Baker's 606 nearly 30 years ago - me and my lad pass a pound coin back and forth every time the ball goes for a throw in. Whoever is holding the quid at the end is the winner of the coin. It adds a certain tension to a drab game, it can be played with any number of players and to be honest, is sometimes more exciting than the football. 3-0 down at home to Gillingham? Chuck an extra quid to the pot and game on! 

606 today is asinine rubbish that has never brought me anything remotely approaching useful knowledge. It's, like much of the football media, in thrall to the idea that the game is 'really important' and that black and white opinions should be argued to the death with no space for self deprecation or reflection on the bigger picture. Football is essentially meaningless chaos, a ball bouncing about within a few hundred square yards according to a few rules and frankly attempting to debate things like 'was his shoulder over the line?' as if it 'really matters' only serves to make it seem even more meaningless. Bring back descriptions of games on aircraft carriers, homemade kits and fellas with wooden bow ties.

Punditry has become essentially large scale trolling. 'Experts' using the airwaves to chuck out 'opinion' like 'It was/wasn't offside' 'Villa will go down/get into Europe' 'Liverpool are over/underrated' 'Ole is the right man/wrong man' etc. The more provocative the better. Nothing will get a fan base raging more than some sort of provocative statement and an angry fan base means angry phone calls and plenty of retweets with people quoting the clip with phrases like 'muppet' and 'look at this bell end' and thus exposure for the broadcaster. 

The odd thing is, at the top level, it feels as if the real battle is for 'respect' by the media. As if somehow 'credit' matters. As if column inches and radio or TV coverage is akin to points in the league. I've seen and heard Chelsea fans furiously condemning criticism of boring Frank calling it 'disrespect', Liverpool fans literally hours after winning their first title in thirty years turning their ire on 'the Utd bias' in the media, United fans slating BT sport for not demanding Ole's head on a plate as if they themselves are the United board. 606 is essentially just angry blokes ringing up to say 'Robbie, I liked you as a player mate, but you are bang out of order...' and proceeding to rant for a minute or two about the square root of fuck all in response to some stupid statement that Savage or Sutton or whoever has made despite the fact you can hear in their voice that it's this week's contrived opinion dreamt up 10 minutes before they went on air. 

What I don't get, is why it matters. No one likes us, we don't care and all of that. No set of pundits ever so much as awarded a free kick, let alone decided where three points went on a Saturday. Possibly it's being a fan of a team who don't get this kind of coverage or maybe my most impressionable football years being the 1980s, a time before the saturation coverage of the game and before social media. A time when, to be considered a controversial figure you had to have a bit of chutzpah and an impishness about you. I'm too young to remember Clough's 'win the league but win it better...' mischief but watching it back reveals a twinkly eyed devilment that only Jose comes close to possessing in the uber serious and terminally boring world of football. In other words, in a world where everyone is a wind up merchant and everyone is willing to be wound up, the artform is devalued significantly.

Everyone seems to be looking for 'controversy,' and a lot of the time it feels as if we're not watching or listening to a discussion but an attempt to trigger a response or a reaction. It's like experiencing a half baked misunderstood version of what what 'fan culture' is, as if all football fans do is go around trying to goad each other all the time. I mean, we do sometimes, but that's our business and it doesn't need mediating by people on telly. The satisfaction of a last minute winner against your rivals or watching their star player get sent off, miss an open goal or whatever is entirely between the two sets of supporters. 

I've never been entirely sure what the pundits are for beyond offering the odd word of insight here and there like 'well, he'll be disappointed to beaten at his near post' or 'they'll be hoping for a win today Alan' and the new breed of superstar ex pros baffle me even more. I frankly couldn't give a shit about how upset Patrick Evra or Roy Keane are about United being in the Europa League or whatever the controversy of the day is. Clough had it right when he picked a fight with the telly about showing more football and doing less talking. God knows what he'd make of the situation today where podcasts full of journalists spend as much time dissecting what was said in the Sky studio as they do the game itself. The podcasters then in turn get dissected on twitter for what they said in the podcast about what the people in the studio said and it goes on and on and on. It's like those shows that come on after shite TV shows that then talk about the shite show and make me want to kill everyone on earth and give the planet to the apes cos instead of flying to Mars, we're watching Big Brothers Little Brother. 

Football is full of people trying to insert themselves into the narrative. Trying desperately to be important by any means possible and I don't understand why we care so much about them. 

Don't get me started on fucking bloggers. The boring, wordy, self regarding cunts. 

When will this game finally eat itself? 

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Everything but the goal: The Mighty vs Oxford United

When he's good, he's very good...

Oxford United = Wang

You have to be of a certain age to snigger at that. You can pick up a classic version of that memorable kit for a bargain £749.99 on ebay if you're interested...

Cheap at twice the price...

Last year we were all envious of Oxford's slick passing football but for all the flair and movement, they couldn't triumph over pragmatic Larryball and left Bloomfield with nothing despite dominating the game for pretty much 90 minutes. Perhaps the Plymouth game at the beginning of the year was karma as we did a very good impression of them that day, all pretty stuff but no decisive end product and I ended up thinking 'how the fuck have we lost that?' 

We apparently tried quite hard to tempt Karl Robinson last spring but ended up with Critch. The thing about Critch is, it's increasingly hard to tell what he's going to do. Just when we thought he was a stubborn total football purist, he came up with 'twat it to Gaz' as a tactic and just when we thought 'twat it to Gaz' was the new normal he dropped him and went back to 4-3-3 sexyball for a game, then, despite us playing beautifully against Pompey, switched back the very next game. We all thought flying wing backs would be the way of the world but Jimmy Husband and Ollie Turton have kept the rather more attacking Garbutt and Gabriel out of the team until things change today when the latter comes in, despite our Ollie having been subject to high praise by Critch himself in the week. 

Gabriel's performances have shown real, real promise so I understand that move. I'm less sold on Ben Woodburn who gets a chance instead of shirtless and hard running Jerry. That seems a slightly odd move to me, but I presume we're going to use Madine as a pivot and expect Woodburn to buzz around and link things up with Sullay, CJ and maybe Grant Ward all trying to get beyond the front man. I'd say there's a bit of pressure on Woodburn to actually do something today if he wants to stay beyond December, given the need for us to get the most out of squad berths, particularly up front. Maybe he's playing because he has some insight into the Oxford defence? Robson's complete exclusion is also a mystery but I'm assuming he's injured. 

The last time we came up against a supposedly 'footballing side' was the horribly turgid game against MK Dons which was as bad an advertisement for 'the passing game' as you could imagine. I hate it when people bemoan direct football as anti football on some spurious grounds that passing it short is morally superior than hitting the channels or a big lad. Watching two League 1 sides fanny about at the back with little or no attacking intent is dismal. Watching two sides go at each other 100% has the thrill of a decent boxing match. 

So I don't really know how this will go. We could match them, it could be a cracker, lots of movement and triangles and all that. Or it could be dismal and sludgy. Or we could go direct, trying to shake them off their game, getting pace up around Madine, Dougall crunching them, CJ charging off in to the right hand channel at every opportunity. The beauty of our difficult start is that it forced us to face up to playing in different ways and that newfound ability to do so poses more questions for the opposition, starting from how they select their side, as now, they don't automatically know what we're going to do. 

What I do know, is it's getting harder to imagine us simply crumbling. We might not yet have the swagger and cutting edge that makes it easy to imagine us winning by 3 or 4 but we've got a solidity about us that suggests whether the opposition bombard the box, try to work space or hit us on the break, we'll be in something like the right shape and playing with commitment enough to absorb it.

Maybe famous last words... 

---

The game starts very brightly, Pool with a couple of forays down the right, Oxford replying with one down their left. CJ is everything to us so far, with Brett sagely stating 'there's only one race to that winner' as he chases one down. Sullay shows some uncharacteristic strength to hold up the ball, then some more typically characteristic skill to peel away from his man and run diagonally towards the box.

Chissy sets up an anecdote about how good the pitch looks with an inviting 'notice anything about the pitch today?' Brett fluffs his lines by responding with 'er, no.... er.... it looks a bit patchy maybe?' A disgruntled Chissy then tells us all about how brushing it to make the blades stand up have left it resplendent as any turf has ever been, free from any worm based detritus and anything but patchy... 

Sullay skins his man then gets in a bit of a panic at being clean through so waits for him to catch up and beats him again, does a 360 turn for good measure and pulls back for CJ who can't connect cleanly. CJ shortly afterwards has a run of his own where he genuinely forgets the ball then falls over as he tries to stop, turn and go back and get it. 

The game hasn't lived up to its early promise, it's end to end but neither side are really putting that much pressure on. Oxford look tidy enough and create a chance with a low ball from wide right that's lashed from the edge of the area way over. 

What of Ben Woodburn? He's looked ok-ish, but seems prone to going to ground quite easily. He's shown the odd flash in tangerine but not really influenced much and this game is the same. He's certainly not shown much sign of forming a partnership with the Goal Machine so far. 

Madine is offside and Brett gives us a glorious metaphor about linesmen and Russian roulette. Woodburn causes two Pool moves to collapse in quick succession, the first a timid square pass in a moment that required some vision or ambition, the second just a poor touch that concedes possession. 

Oxford are getting more into it as the half goes on but the next moment is ours as CJ again beats his man and pulls it back, I'm visualising Madine smashing it home but from somewhere an Oxford body appears and cuts out the ball. A corner. Again Madine is in, flicking it on, Marvin is there but it's scrambled out, Dougall swivels and shoots, into the ground, Marvin again nearly get on it but it's headed away before CJ heads it straight up in the air and Marvin flicks it back at goal before finally it bounces into the hands of the Oxford keeper. 

Maxwell charges to the edge of the box, takes the ball and stops dead. 'He must have disc brakes...' remarks Chissy 'Aye, ABS kicked in then' agrees Brett. Oxford put a very dangerous ball into the box when their right back who looks just like Steve Foster (the effect helped by the Luton-esque white shirts/dark shorts) in a headband wins a free kick... but Marvin is equal to it. 

Hamilton runs at Ruffles (who sounds like the name of a dog from a book about posh public school kids having a jolly holiday), beats him again, puts the low pass he always does across, Sullay does that appearing from deep thing that's worked several times. He seems to have an age to steer it home, but he slips at the crucial moment and ends up lying down on the penalty spot with the ball rolling toward the D when he must have been visualising wheeling away arms aloft, being mobbed by his team mates. 

The magnificent CJ then rattles the post from outside the box, a nothingy moment where the ball is bouncing about, everyone is backing into defenders, muscling, pushing and CJ just trots up, smacks it low and hard from outside the right corner of the box, the ball hitting the base of the near post before the keeper know it had left his foot... 

The last ten minutes have been the best Pool spell, Madine flicks a corner on, they scramble it away, Sullay brings it back and is fouled. His deep free kick finds Woodburn who turns it back in, again, it's dangerous but it's defended, again we put it back in, with Dougall slotting a first time pass to Husband who gallops away down the left, sees the keeper way of his line, slips it past him but his ball looks like he can't quite decide whether to shoot or pass and it curls past the unattended goal but not quite enough for the onrushing Madine who throws his arms up in frustration as it rolls out of play.  

--- 

The last part of the half was very encouraging after a stodgy middle part of the game. I do think it might be an idea to stick Jerry on. Possibly someone who knows about things will explain why Woodburn is there and how I'm reading the game naively, but to me, he's not done much. Madine has looked frustrated and has linked better with CJ than he has the lad from Liverpool, Yates can come deep and do a lot of what Woodburn is doing but he offers more in and around the box and much more in tandem with the big man. 

Hamilton has been superb, Sullay has had one of those unfortunate games where he's been quite good except when it really mattered. Dougall has looked just a little bit less disciplined than usual and had he got a booking I wouldn't have been surpised and also a bit concerned about the second half. That he hasn't could be a major blessing. At the back, I think Marvin has been terrific and Maxwell, though not having much to do has continued a thread of a few weeks where he's looked a bit more commanding. 

---

Marvin nearly makes me eat my half time praise as he gets his legs tangled up and his panicked clearance strikes an Oxford player, nearly rolls to one of their forwards but for a rescuing challenge from the Viking.

Their big centre halves have coped as well with Madine as anyone has all year but after Cumbria's finest lands on one of them he has to go off and I wonder if that will let the big lad get more into the game. 

Sullay picks it up deep, runs then threads a terrific pass for the overlapping Gabriel who has a great chance, sprinting clear, bearing down on goal side and losing composure hitting into the side netting at the near post. To be fair, whilst it was a poor shot, Turton would have checked back and played a square ball... 

CJ wins another race, goes towards the near post, is forced to the byline then pulls out an outrageous back heel, Sullay goes to hit it but somehow the ball isn't quite heavy enough and it's nipped off Sullay's toes by the sliding challenge from headband lad. Another great Pool move finishes with Gabriel with an evil cross, all across the six yard box but somehow no one finishes. 30 seconds later CJ is winning a far post header, then claiming a hand ball from the Steve Foster impersonator but the ref isn't having it. 

Oxford have made a couple of changes. I'm getting fidgity. Maybe I'm just suffering the modern attention defecit curse of the 21st century football fan where something always needs to be happening and everything could always be better, but it feels time to go for it. 

CJ does go for it, cutting inside, I'm screaming for him (internally) to give it Gabriel on the overlap, but he just stutters towards the edge of the box, smacks it and via a deflection, it comes off the bar and out for a corner. Maybe it's actually this game that is karma for last year and the Plymouth one was recompense for something else? I hope not as that means they're going to win. Marvin redeems himself for his earlier error by rising well to clear a dangerous cross for a corner. The ball in is met by an Oxford head and scrambled away by the Viking, we're lucky they headed straight at him. An escape! 

Gabriel sells a beautiful dummy but his cross is blocked, CJ is so fast he can jog half heartedly and beat the offside trap. He get's a good chipped ball in but Woodburn hasn't quite got the presence to bully his way in front of his man. It's his last action as he's replaced by Keshi. It's a sub but I wanted Jerry... Gabriel does brilliantly, faking three times to get to the byline then putting it to the far post, the ball is nodded about in the box, back and forth and finally away... 

Yates, Kemp and Virtue come on for Madine, Sullay and Ward. Virtue and Yates have good early moments, Jerry almost closing down the keeper, Virtue winning it deep and playing an intelligent pass from a right back position that sets us away on a sweeping move that founders on the left side of their box. 

Oxford make some attacking subs and their new left winger get past Gabriel twice in the same move and shoots low, Maxwell is equal to it but it's a dicey moment...

The quality drops. An evocative digression from Brett about the 'stench' of Barnsley's toilets passes the time with Chissy slightly creepily thinking out loud 'I wonder what the ladies smell like?' I assume he means the toilets rather than the women of Barnsley as obviously the answer to that would be 'beef dripping and coal dust' 

We go forward, Virtue again starting the move with a nice ball but ending it with a terrible one aiming for the far post but missing it by a mile. CJ runs clear but is then pushed wide, Gabriel takes over and runs right across the box but can only touch it to empty space... It's looking like it's not going to happen. 

6 minutes of added of added time and Oxford are putting more pressure on than we are, first a corner then a deep free kick met by a diving header which is saved quite brilliantly by Chris Maxwell, one step to predict the flight of the ball and then an incredible leap to claw it onto the post and away. It was a fucking outrageous save, as good as anything you'll see in any league. 

We load the box from a free kick of our own, Marvin wins it in the air, sending it across the box and everyone watches it and they belt it away... We belt it back and flick it on again, Virtue dances left, right, steps back, moves forward and finds space but the keeper is alert and plucks it away from him. Virtue does what perhaps others should have done and carries on into the keeper, showing an intent in the box we've simply not had today. 

Then CJ is charging through on the left, pushing the ball beyond his man, sprinting after it and then sprawling, seeming to have his legs taken. The question is - inside or outside the box? Seconds pass, I'm waiting for the whistle, but it never comes. It looks nailed on to me and CJ isn't in the habit of going down easily... It's not our day... 

---

It's been frustrating as we've been the better side. For me, we should have tried two up front for at least some of that game but we still made enough chances to have won it. We've hit the woodwork twice and with Sullay's slip included have created 3 very near moments to their 1.

They're clearly not a bottom half side but a point feels a disappointment on the back of the run we've had and the ambitions that have been growing as a result. We played some really nice stuff in patches but I felt there was something just slightly disjointed about us - I felt that at the outset of the season. It's maybe just the frustration speaking but at the full time whistle I'm no wiser as to why Yates (or for that matter Keshi) didn't start the game and Woodburn did. Such is life though, not everything any manager does will work I suppose... 

Defensively we've been excellent again, we've attacked with some verve. It's been (as Brett would have it) "one of those" and whilst it's taken me till last week to think 'we could do it this year' - now I have, this seems like a frustrating result as hope is a cruel thing... 

Hull on Tuesday. Massive test. 

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We have to do this all again? Fleetwood Town vs the Mighty

At least the 8th way in and out I've thought of by now...

Flippin' heck. The Cods again? I suppose it's better than some smug club in tier 2 or below with their fans and their open pubs and their scotch eggs with actual pints from actual barrels served by actual barstaff. The best we can do is a Ginster's pasty from a garage and to get ourselves yet another can from the fridge and slump yet again in front of the telly but at least the Cods are in the same boat (trawler) although probably with some breaded haddock and a tot of rum instead.  

Anyways, the near neighbours but not derby rivals it is in the Papa Vans Carabao Rover Trophy. It's a fairly pointless competition except if you win it, when it's grand craic and ultimately, isn't that what football is? I mean, if you win the European Cup, nothing particularly special happens, you jump about a bit, lift a trophy, everyone cheers, there's medals and coloured ribbons, a photo and a bit of a party and then you start again next year and do it all again. 

The Auto John's Freight Energy Trophy is almost exactly the same in that respect and in some ways more exciting as a) we're actually in it and b) used to be pretty good at winning it. The other appeal is getting to see players you don't normally see having a go at convincing the manager they're better than he thinks they are. I like the way the early rounds feel somewhere between a reserve game and real fixture and give you a certain frisson of exclusivity and perhaps a slightly more relaxed experience when you're at them. No one gets fired for going out in the first round, no one minds too much what happens and thus, you sometimes get some cracking games. 

It's ages since I've done a Leyland Windscreen's League Trophy game in the flesh. I can't remember the last one I attended,  but my most vivid memory of an early round game is of seeing a young striker score a superb hatrick, a mix of touch, skill, power and positioning that had me convinced he would go all the way to the top. His name? Matty Blinkhorn and daft as it might seem, that night he was Harry Kane, Alan Shearer, Ray Charnley, whoever. You can take my civil liberties, force me to watch on iFollow, but you cannot have my memories... 

Tonight, the main attraction is the return of another Matty, with Virtue hopefully to get some minutes. Like Blinks, yer man might lack a yard of pace but I like his honesty and endeavour. Some may see little way into the side for him at the moment but let's see where the season takes us and a midfielder with his work rate and ability to both shoot and ghost in late on crosses is not to be sniffed at. 

When the team is out, the Virtuous Matty does indeed get a game, as do loads of others. The wonderfully enigmatic Jordan Thorniley and the lesser spotted Sarkic are both included alongside Garbutt, Gabriel, Kemp, Bez and Keshi who all come in. There's three kids on the bench as well which is always ace. 

---

The teams take the knee so quickly that as soon as they've got down, they're getting up again and then the ref counts the players. I know Barton is a bit of a devil, but surely neither he, nor the angelic seeming Critch would be quite so daring as to put 12 on.... 

We're off with a lovely bit of Sarkic control, a couple of classy early touches from Garbutt and a classic headless Bez run before Fleetwood get a bit of a hold on attacking. They have a good spell featuring an early cross that's nodded wide, a scary back pass that puts pressure on Sims, a Coutts cross that Saunders really should have done more than nod over the top and a ball over the top that our man Thorniley does an excellent job with, having one of those moments that explains why he was so rated when he signed, blocking his man's run, turning and then coming away with the ball, leaving Saunders on the ground. Shortly afterwards, Sims plays Thorniley in to real trouble, a less than thoughtful pass giving the centre half a tricky moment but the Cods forward shows an equal lack of composure and Thorniley can again, just block the pass off to everyone's relief.  

We then have three identical throws in a row and from the last one, Bez gets round the back but his effort is neither a cross nor nor a shot. From the clearance, Garbutt curls a lovely ball, but Keshi can't quite get on it. Moments later Garbutt again swings a divine ball in, finding little Dan Kemp in a pocket of space but Kemp heads in down into the pitch and it just pops up into the keeper's hands. Bez than picks it up, shapes to run down the wing but instead goes the opposite way, moving deeper and finding a pocket of space from which he threads a glorious through ball that outshines even Garbutt's earlier effort, Kemp is onto it but he stumbles and the moment is gone. 

For the Cods, the handy looking Morris goes wide, a simple and direct piece of wing play, pulling it across goal, the resulting shot flashing just past the near post. 

The game is end to end and high paced. Pool pass their way down the pitch, Virtue with a nice low cross can't quite find Bez at the near post, and Fleetwood work their way up the other end, putting in a ball that is just headed away despite confusion between centre half and keeper as to who is going to claim it. 

Sims fails to keep it 'on the island'. In fact, Sims clears one so far, it reaches the next island. Virtue is getting stuck in and then Bez, again, is the provider, turning, weighting it perfectly for Keshi, who calmly moves towards goal, sets himself to roll it into the corner past the keeper, but just taps it tamely into the keeper's legs instead. It was almost too good a chance, too long to think about it. 

Again Bez does good work, this time a gorgeous little touch off for Anderson, cleverly cushioning a first time pass with the outside of his boot, Keshi marauding down the right and swinging a good ball in that Kemp can't muscle home. Moments later Virtue goes on a little run, setting up Gabriel whose ball is outrageously good but no one is there. Same story a further minute on as Bez puts a terrific ball in, this time Keshi does get to it via a deflection, but his shot, though on target is blocked away. A great spell, but the lack of real striker is showing. 

Sims is rescued by Gabriel as he slightly misjudges a catch at a corner. I used to be a keeper at school and I feel for him, he does everything right but just drops it. It happens. He makes a good stop minutes later, again Morris at the far post looking to turn it home first time from a long cross and Sims leaps sideways, and pushes it away, almost like a volley ball move. A sharp stop. I'd have flailed and fallen into the goal but our Jack is equal to the test. 

Pool are pressing really high, Kemp in particular buzzing with real intent round the Fleetwood backline whenever they've got possession. Robson brings a stop from the keeper from 25 yards (he's again set up by Bez) and Virtue is on the rebound. His effort ends up over the bar and the flag is up anyway, but it's a reminder of how Virtue has an ability to get into these sorts of positions. For a player who looks a relatively conservative midfield player on the surface, he knows his way around the box. 

---

It's been a good half to watch. We've not looked as secure at the back as we might have done with the first choice defence, but not completely all over the place and we've gone forward with purpose. I'm not entirely sure who is playing up front, such is the movement. Bez is wide, deep, central, but so is Kemp. Sarkic has looked a little bit peripheral and arguably Keshi has offered more threat than him and popped up wide at times. The movement is impressive, but the simplicity with which we scored on Saturday came from having a striker who knew how to, well, strike and I'm not convinced anyone on the pitch has that instinct. 

If we keep it up though, someone will get on the end of a chance, maybe the lad Holmes who's got 10 in 10 for the kids could be the man? 

Whatever the trophy is called, it has a quality of seeming not to matter much at the outset then serving up some good football, making you really invested in the game. This one hasn't disappointed in that respect and I'm up for it now... 

---

MJ Williams with the lovely hair replaces Matty V. I'm not sure if he or Garbutt has the loveliest hair in the team. MJ's is more free flowing, but Garbutt overall wins a 'most likely to get a role in a film playing one of those stupidly well proportioned and ridiculously stylish Italian defenders that they seemed to churn out for years whilst we had Tony Adams, Terry Butcher and Gary Mabbut looking all bar fights, spit, sawdust and broken noses' 

Conveniently for the blog, Garbutt has a nice Maldini-esque moment, following his man into the box and sliding with perfect timing to end a Cods foray forward. The game isn't as free flowing at the outset of the second half. The first effort coming from a curious one/two of headers between Sarkic and Garbutt, the latter nodding to the former who flicks it on again. Garbutt carries on his run and charges into the box, shoots but can't quite get a clean shot and the the ball runs out for a corner. 

Garbutt does some more excellent defensive work, I'm liking him more with every game. Bez sees an outrageous pass and hits it on the volley from a full back slot, looking for Kemp in the opposite corner. It doesn't work, but he saw the moment where many wouldn't What I like in the last two cup games is that Bez has looked like a player with some vision, strangely doing his best work deeper, which didn't seem like his game at all initially, all blind alley runs and selfish seeming as he appeared, and actually, it's good to see he isn't that player at all. 

On the hour, I think Kemp is looking tired, he often looks like this when he starts. Critch disagrees and brings off Keshi, who to be fair to the silver fox in the technical area, has barely touched the ball in the second half. Demi Mitchell is on and taking a really advanced position on the right of attack. Remember when we all thought he was a left back? Oh, how time flies.  

Morris again is dangerous, weaving through and forcing Thorniley to back peddle before getting the slightest of touches to deflect the winger's effort wide. The Cods then have a big shout for a penalty as Thorniley watching the ball and seems simply step into the Fleetwood forward in moving to play it but the Cod hits the deck to enormous melodramatic shouts from bench and team alike. Happily, common sense prevails and the ref notes the complete lack of intent. Barton has a right strop and gets a proper dressing down and a yellow card as a result. 

Pool win a corner, from a mistake by Coutts, it's swung deep, Sarkic does really well to bring it down, square it to Bez, he smacks it first time into a crowd of players, it breaks for Williams who hits it well, low and hard but almost straight at the keeper who stops it quite well, but with relative ease. 

Pool win another corner from a good Mitchell run and Barton gets serious by chucking on Paddy Madden. Poor old Thorniley, who only gets to play in games that no one is watching is crocked, so the Viking is on instead. Critch gives him a consoling, fatherly pat on the back and then the corner comes to nothing. 

Fleetwood chuck on some more experience in Whelen and Mckay. Maddon pulls back a breaking Kemp then shows a right mad bit of petulance, kicking the ball away and pointedly ignoring the ref when he wants book him. The ref who has done ok, decides to overlook the paddy and let Paddy stay on (honestly. I spoil you. I don't even get paid for this. It's at least low quality local radio standard...) despite his actions clearly equating two yellows. He does look quite hard though, all bald headed outrage, as if he's tired of refs in general such his lack of deference and sulky facial expression when finally the ref gets him over for a chat. 

Kemp threads through ball for Sarkic but he just hasn't got the pace to make it. It was a great ball for just about any other forward. Garbutt slides a lovely pass up the line but Bez can only chip at to where no one really is. Fleetwood then have a great chance from a corner, Evans getting a header at the far post (I hadn't even noticed he was playing to this point) and guiding it a matter of inches over onto the roof of the net. 

Pool fiddle a chance, passing it in tight spaces and squeezing Bez wide, he crosses deep and Sarkic is in acres of space wide, but such is his confidence and lack of games (and possibly lack of genuine striker's instinct for he is more of a provider than a scorer according to his recored), tries to take it down when it seems he might have had a go first time. 

Fleetwood dominate added on time, Whelen's passing from deep is simply fantastic and they put several dangerous balls across the box, the most dangerous of which leads to a quite superb challenge from the Viking, denying Evans right in front of goal. 

Penalties then... 

Garbutt, does a giddy little dance, runs in and hits it perfectly into the bottom corner. Class. 

Coutts hits it higher but sends Sims as wrong as the wrong way can be. 

Sarkic does a little stutter and slides it into the bottom right corner... silky! 

Madden, who shouldn't be on the pitch, looks like he can't be arsed with the penalty either, strolls up and just side foots it home. Piece of piss, he doesn't even bother to look pleased. 

Robson, jogs on the spot, trots in in a luke warm manner and hits one that's even less arsed than Madden's, it looks a bit like he's hit one to let the mascot save it in a warm up and the keeper falls on it gratefully. 

Evans slides it under Sims who goes the right way but is a split second, a nano second aways from falling fast enough to get his whole body behind it. Unlucky. 

Bez, runs about, does a little job on spot, crouches, steps up and stops just short of pulling out a dove from a hat and riding about on a unicycle then finally... just about squeezes it home. 

Mckay goes into the bottom corner, Sims again going the wrong way. 

Gabriel no nonsense, the keeper does everything right but it's well hit. 

Duffy to win it.... Sims, bounces, smacks his thighs with his gloves, looks ready and... goes the other way as the ball hits the bottom right corner. 

--- 

Second half was scrappy and no one really stands out. Demi looked really quite uncomfortable on the right of attack, his pace gets him into positions but he, for me, is far better on the left. Sarkic has had some nice touches, but I'd have been tempted to stick Bez down the middle, Demi left and Kemp on the right as Id don't think Sarkic ever really threatened. 

Williams looked to settle right back in, not looking especially rusty and passing quite well, but he's never going to really dictate a game and Robson had one of those slightly frustrating matches where he doesn't especially influence proceedings. Gabriel again looked good, as did Garbutt. 

Oh well. 

We'll just have to win the FA Cup and the league.

To misquote Joey - it's only a tinpot cup when we've lost.  

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Dare I imagine we're actually good?: Fleetwood Town vs The Mighty

One of at least six ways in and six ways out

Sunny Fleetwood. It's close to my heart in many ways. It's where I used to live for one, but also where John Lennon went on his holidays, the home of Britain's first fully automated telephone exchange and it was once the end of the west coast mainline. As I outlined in last year's blog, I think old Fleetwood is an architectural gem, even if was supposed to look like Bath, but the money ran out after two buildings and it doesn't it still has it's charms. It has many other claims to fame (such as the little mini town model in the museum, the boating pond where I used to sail boats my Grandad made with his own hands and a rusty old trawler) and much to offer the world but it still feels wrong to be playing them as equals. 

Why, I ask myself, do I feel that? This (it just so happens) is the 100th article of this blog and when not writing about the Mighty Tangerine Wizards, I'm mostly to be found railing against the attitudes of the 'big clubs' like a drunk and deranged man on street corner that wielding the blog like a dirty old carrier bag and shouting incoherently at pigeons and passers-by about things like "the stupefying and deadening boredom of an elite league, dominated by the same teams whose position is all but guaranteed and who act like a cabal. Where is the competition? Won't someone think of the romance? Won't someone think of the rest of the game? Won't someone think of the sheer poetry and romance of the small town team made good, the unlikely, the never was team who became something, where, I ask you is the surprise, the soul, the sheer capricious random capacity of football to surprise?" 

Given my habit of such outbursts, I feel it would be churlish, hypocritical and small minded to resent Fleetwood their successes or to look down upon them as somehow invalid or unworthy. 

But... 

Let's be honest. 

They're not us. They never will be. No matter what happens today, they're just an irritating mosquito on the beautiful beach of tangerine dreams. Let's hope we can swat them aside and go about our merry way for a few more months, happily ignoring them till we're back where we belong and they can only dream of. 

The big question is: To Madine or not to Madine? Personally, I'd always Madine. Anyone who doesn't appreciate him is a philistine and possesses the critical appreciation levels and tactical awareness of a gnat in my humble opinion. I'm as surprised as anyone that I feel this way given it felt as if wor Gary was on a one way ticket to 'anywhere but Blackpool' in the summer.

It really does feel that there are essentially two target men left in football - Giroud and Madine and it's a toss up as to which one is best. Like Lampard, Critch didn't seem to fancy the big lad, but like boring Frank he's found he actually has grown to love the big old throwback. No one else in the game seems to be able to head a football anymore and to my naive tactical mind, being able to attack both in the air and on the ground is useful in a game where you're actually allowed to do both even if hipster aesthetes deem it gauche and ugly. 

Critch concurs and the Goal Machine starts... as does Ward and Gretarsson with Ballard and Robson surprise omissions. 

---

Fleetwood start with real verve - an inswinging corner is clawed out by Maxwell and shortly after Charlie Mulgrew cracks the post from a ridiculous angle. We respond with a corner of our own, lofted to the near post and flicked on across the goal by a defenders head and out of play for another. The game is being played at pace and the Cods look as purposeful as anyone we've faced to date. 

CJ gets a chance to run and offloads just as he looks like taking on the defender. Sullay takes a touch, turns and gets a shot off that's blocked. CJ again goes down the left and turns it low to the near post where the keeper smuggles it round the post. Momentum has shifted to the Mighty but Ched Evans battles against the Viking and wins a corner and the pendulum moves back. 

It's been a good, breathless start. You might think it was a derby match if you didn't know better. Sullay can shift his balance better than a Weeble and he goes one way, than the other and back again, dribbling like an ice skater, gliding through their defence. Mackay responds by charging through at the other end but Turton makes a stunning challenge and gets up, chest puffed out like a hard man. 

It's another wide run, CJ on the right this time and he's fouled after crossing. Sullay spots it up, just outside the area and lofts it in for Madine to nod home. It was so easy after the difficulties the start to the game suggested, Madine seeming almost unchallenged and burying it past a flailing keeper, a proper header by a proper striker. It's a right steak and kidney pie of a goal. I don't know what that actually means but it feels right. 

Dougall makes a brilliant tackle and there's a bit of spice in the off the ball altercation that follows. This is fiery, but we're giving as good as we get and after just 20 minutes have forced Barton to rejig their formation. 

Fleetwood put a lovely passing move together, really crisp triangles and send Burns down the right, Husband makes it back and we clear, but Fleetwood basically repeat the move and this time cross early and only tight marking prevents Evans getting a better touch and the ball ends up well wide from 15 yards. The formation shift seems to have done them some immediate good. 

Sliding tackle meets sliding tackle. Ward goes through the back of someone, Dougall wrestles. Ward is tripped after a really, really good pass from Ekpiteta, splitting two advancing forwards perfectly and finding him in space with a counter attack opening up. Fleetwood go direct and cause a bit of chaos. Hamilton ends up in the stands...

The game has finally settled down a bit and Maxwell takes an age over a goal kick. Sullay, Husband and Madine combine and it's a corner. Two crosses, two stretching clearances and an absurdly ambitious  diagonal volleyed pass by Turton that ends in the stand. Now Fleetwood are coming forward again, passing neatly, looking busy and dangerous but meeting a wall of defenders. Long balls are exchanged, Evans and Madine both winning flick ons but both defences stretch and do their jobs. 

Barton's switch has nullified us, but it's not unlocked them. If anything, they look less of a threat than they did. Critch mooches back and forth in his area, hands deep in his pockets. Picky little free kicks abound. Not lonely this week Jerry takes a gloriously enthusiastic throw, trying to find Madine in the middle, his technique like that of a little kid, both feet coming off the ground. The linesman doesn't notice. Dougall catches the ball with his toes and back to goal. He flicks it and then volleys over his shoulder, head tennis ensues and as the ball is nodded up in the box, once, twice, three times, I notice Madine, patrolling, watching, waiting, slowly cruising across the six yard box.

 I have never seen a footballer look more like a shark. 

We get a corner. They score an offside goal that has me worried for a second then the whistle goes. If it was a derby, I'd be fucking chuffed with that half. As it is, I'm pretty thrilled anyway with a lead against the near neighbours who are quite a good team if we're honest. 
---- 

I can't see a need to change things. What I'd be doing though, is readying the bench and at the first sign of a Donny style collapse, I'd be making changes and chucking a massive tantrum on the touchline. 

The question is - do we soak up what will come and then hit them on the break or keep doing what we're doing and going toe to toe? I'd do the latter as I don't think we can afford to let them play. 'Keep spoiling and battling but don't dare take your foot off it or I'll loan you to fucking Albania' would be my half time team talk I think. 

---

Fleetwood are out bright and early with a sub and presumably their third tactical switch of the game. Northern soul blares out as Pool join play unchanged. 

The first action of half worth noting is the mighty Goal Machine chesting it down, letting the ball bounce then hitting it on the half volley like a kicking horse, the ball going not far over and striking the stanchion behind.

To think, it's not so long since I was pining for Armand.

Armand who?

Exactly... 

Marvin stumbles and the Cods are through, feasting on the scuffed pass, but who is back saving the day? It's Sullay fucking Kaikai of all people and the moment is gone. They come back though and send the ball across the face of goal but no one shows for it. A minute later Sullay does an incredible impression of a one of those sprung loaded ski flags, bending almost to the ground with the ball, then bouncing upright and going the other way to beat his man. It's got no impact in the end but what a player this lad can be. Give me Sullay over some steady non-entity any day of the week. 

If Madine was quick, he'd be outrageous, but he isn't quite fast enough (i.e. he moves like a WW1 tank) to take advantage of a long ball from Ward that looks like it might set him free. The big man can only hold it up instead. Husband is winding up Barton by having the temerity to get fouled. Neither side are quite putting it together and Fleetwood are ready for more subs and winning some dangerous set pieces. It's becoming a bit of a battle of who can roll around most convincingly after a challenge, players from both sides acting as if they're in sheer life threatening, career ending agony till the ref offers the option of leaving the pitch for treatment then both sets of players seem to be miraculously recovering. 

Pool's threat so far this half is summed up by a Ward cross to no one. Hamilton surge forward and is challenged, the ball bounces to Critch who in one move takes his hands from his pockets, catches it and seems to go and take the throw himself. Perhaps he's been lost in the game and slipped into a dream that he's playing it. I do that sometimes. 

Suddenly there's a flurry of Pool, CJ wins a corner from a Fleetwood slip. From the corner, the ball drops to him and he almost fiddles his way through. Then CJ again, having had a completely anonymous half so far, marauding into the box, a defenders hands all over him but he's staying on his feet, pulling back for Madine who drops his shoulder, wriggles, looking for space but not quite finding it and cannoning it into the defence.

Another Cods change and the first Pool one, Keshi for Yates who, it goes without saying, has run himself into the ground as usual. 

The Cods win a corner but Maxwell plucks out the air, not for the first time today. He belts it long, CJ brings it down and we pass, calm play, just daring them to come and get it and shifting it to the next man before working it to Kaikai who bursts into the box, strikes it low and draws a good save from their keeper. 

If parts of the game were scrappy, Pool's next move is lovely, passing and exploiting the space Anderson is finding in the hole, a lovely piece of football that sets Keshi free eventually but his low cross is the first poor touch of the move. That prompts about 30 Fleetwood passes in a long move that needs a brilliant Viking header and a desperate leap from Marvin to block their route to goal. 

Garbutt replaces Sullay. Maxwell claws another corner out from under his bar. The Viking gets clattered in the face. We get the first bit of Madine in the corner and whilst it annoys the fuck out of their right back, I wonder if it's a bit too early. The football is scrappy again. I wonder at the accuracy of their 'One Way In, One Way Out' banner - there's a tramline, the prom, Amounderness Way and the road down through Rossall to name but four. I once walked all the way down the Estuary as well and if the tram isn't running you can catch the 14 all the way down the coast. That's six. 

Last minute, they win a free kick in the corner. The Viking heads away. The ball comes back and it looks horrible for a moment but our peroxide hero Dougall gets a touch and the moment is gone, the ball in Maxwell's hands. Just when you think he can't do any better, our Kenny then pulls out a Cruyff turn on the far touchline. Seconds remain. The Cods build again, tension rises. They pass it out of play. We lose it from the throw, it comes back and again, it's Dougall getting a foot in, before again it comes back, Marvin slides, but still it comes back... the added on time is up and still they threaten, the ball goes wide and then... finally...the ref blows the whistle. 

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It started like a train and then descended into being a bit of a scrappy game but it's another very, very good result. We've won 3 or 4 away league games and beaten two well fancied sides. Fleetwood looked decent at times but as I said above, seemed to neuter themselves in trying to negate our threat and then couldn't really find the same intent they started with, no matter what changes they made. We've defended very well and that's without our best defender. Good teams are built on good defence and when you consider that we've got Garbutt and Gabriel on the bench as well Ballard presumably on the physios table, we're looking very strong in that area. We don't even need to pretend Demi is a defender any more. 

How can I not be happy when Sullay sets up the Goal Machine? That's essentially my perfect Blackpool goal but real credit has to go to Maxwell who dealt well with set pieces and showed presence in the box when needed as well as the rest of the defence and the fucking wonderful Kenny Dougall. We've really battled and come out on top. 

Again, Critchley has changed things and again it's worked. After playing football against Pompey, we went much more direct here and the result was the same. My initial assessment of Critchley was one of tactical naivety but he's showing he can learn on the job (from his experience or from Calderwood, it doesn't really matter which) and we're looking much cleverer as a result. 

Sir Peter Hesketh! Jane Couch! the Lofthouses! Alfie Boe! Heron Freezer Foods! That little souvenir shop near the Knott End ferry... Do you hear me? Your guys took... Actually, no, it doesn't matter. It's not, after all, a derby. A win against any side who made the play offs last year is a great outcome but there's no need to get all superior about it. They've done very well to get where they have and all that. Show some dignity man, give them a pat on the head for effort and walk away with the three points...  

Once again. Lets hear you all... 

All HAIL THE GOAL MACHINE! 

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No bell rings: the Mighty vs Portsmouth

If you get to the end, you'll get the photo. If you don't. You won't

I'm knackered, run down and hate the darkness of my life. Driving to work in the dark, home in the dark and then being stuck in the house with other people who've got the same shit. Just drudgery and routine. Nothing else. Thank fuck for football. 

Good things about lockdown football - that lad with the bell isn't here, ringing that fucking bell at a migraine inducing pitch. Of all the affectations of any football club, that has to be the single most annoying one. Pompey fans hearts must sink when they realise they're stuck next to him for an entire match. It's all grand and that, but c'mon. Take 5 minutes here and there. Have a twirl. Enjoy the silence. 

Bad things about lockdown football - everything else. 

Robson is back in as are Turton, Keshi and Husband. But stop the press: There's no Gary Madine. I repeat: No Gary Madine. I look again. Still no Gary Madine. (he's on the bench.) All I can say is I'm really worried about seeing a return to lonely Jerry running hopelessly around whilst we play pretty toothless football and lose 2-0. Please don't go back to putting the ball  across the box to no one 8 times a game. Please! Maybe if Gary needs a rest (and to be fair, he possibly does) we could play a totem pole or get Sullay to wear some stilts. Maybe we could give one of the hypnosis acts from off the pier (it's off season, they'll be twiddling their thumbs and swinging their watches on chains idly) a call and see if they can convince Gretarsson he's actually a marauding striker?  

The performances at the weekend of Gabriel and Garbutt suggesting they've got more than a little to offer but Critch has gone for solidity against a good team. We'll see. 

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Pool start quite brightly, mostly attacking down the right. Hamilton and Turton getting forward and Pool fiddling it around looking for space on the box but not finding the shot or the pass. Keshi is lively and purposeful, getting forward with more freedom than he was earlier in the season, he's getting beyond the ball instead of sitting behind it. His touches are the nearest we come to unlocking their defence and his lovely little spin and pass sets up Kaikai for the first shot in anger. 

Sullay takes a corner (won by Hamilton's hard running) - it's flicked on and Husband has a chance but heads tamely into the hands of the keeper. Pompey are coming forward on the break but aside from a slightly dicey moment where Marvin's headed clearance has to be quickly tidied up by Ballard and a through ball Maxwell slides out and claims decisively, they're not threatening much. 

Marvin has one of those moments where he takes the extra touch and invites a challenge, but he releases just in time, a raking pass that Hamilton does well to control on his chest, bring down and run - it looks like he's going to run all the way and shoot from the edge of the D but he lays it off to a surprised Anderson, who regains his composure in time to spot CJ has carried on. Not for the first time tonight, his pass is well weighted and finds its man. Hamilton takes a stride and crashes it at the near post, the keeper falling and fumbling it wide. 

Lonely Jerry is starting to come deep. He's won the ball a few times, but looks isolated. He wins a flick on, no one is there. He comes deep and tackles, the ball runs out of play. He runs into a defender's back and gives the linesman a mouthful. He goes for it with the Pompey centre half and ends up with a mouthful of turf and no free kick, just a sense that something is missing and it might have something to do with the number '14' 

A let off as Robson intercepts but then hesitates about clearing as so does everyone else, the ball falls to Marquis, who takes a step, steadies himself, fires beyond Maxwell and beyond the post.

Lonely Jerry finally has a shot, Marvin's big Beckenbauer esque lofted pass is headed clear, but drops only to Yates, he takes it on the thigh, then juggles it, three times, sets himself, thinks better off it, lets it bounce, realises it's still there for the shot and lobs it straight down the goalies throat. 

CJ has the ball taken off his toes in a great save - I sometimes wonder what would happen if he played more centrally sometimes, he's so quick onto the pass he nearly makes something from nothing, turn a heavy ball into a good one. 

Sullay gets the ball from Husband and has one those moments where he just drifts, he's unstoppable when he does that, it's like trying to stop a wave breaking, he looks as balanced as an expert surfer, just sliding across the pitch diagonally, unfazed by the defenders till he lays off to Keshi, who sets himself and smacks it in into the knee of a desperate, lunging defender 

Pompey end the half with some positivity - Maxwell is busy cutting out a couple of decent crosses and our defence is stretched but there's no real threat on goal. 

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If this were an away game, you'd be happy. It isn't though and even though home and away are more or less meaningless in the Covid League Div 3, I feel like we've struggled to make much of our good play. It might be me wanting to prove my own point about forwards but it does feel like we're watching the early season Blackpool (sans Notts moments of calamity), controlling the game quite well, but struggling to create a clear cut chance. The most obvious impact of that is Yates is nowhere near as involved as he has been in recent weeks. 

Again, Ballard looks good, I have to say, as big a fan of Gabriel as I am, Turton has had a decent half, Robson, the one mistake above aside has looked composed, CJ as ever has been our most likely and Keshi buzzed about with intent. Can we unpick the lock? I wonder if I'm being spoiled. We've just seen a half of nice and well disciplined football against one of the best teams in the division and I'm moaning we're not more incisive but it does feel as if we've been held at arm's length... 

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We're off with a series of up and unders and then a nice passing move, again with Keshi at its heart. that comes to little. Colin Greenall (he's no Brett) forgets what the penalty area is called and corrects himself as he nearly calls it a 'goal box' 

Sullay whips one in. There's no one there. Pompey have a moment of threat. They're offside. It's a bit like that in general. Dougall sees a first time ball and picks out Yates, it bounces off his foot and the moment is gone. The same man crosses deep, Pompey just marshall our forwards away with ease and the ball goes out. 

Ballard spends a few minutes on the floor after a great sliding challenge. Chissy says he can't possibly be injured because he's Northern Irish. Chissy is happily, right. 

I'd like to say this has got 0-0 written all over it, but I've watched too many games to know it could have 2-0 defeat written all over it as well. We're doing ok but we're coming against 8 men every time we go forward. They're a well disciplined team, in form and well established. and I feel like the longer they keep it 0-0 the more they'll fancy it. 

As I think that, they make two subs and bring on an extra striker. Will Critch respond? Will big Gaz be a good shout or will we find some space now? 

Brilliant work from Yates in the box, taking the ball from CJ, twisting and turning, keeping the ball away from one challenge after another before finding Hamilton whose touch isn't great, but movement to get to the edge of the box from the touchline was simply fantastic.

Hamilton races onto a pass from Robson, pulls it across the goal. Lonely Jerry dummies it because he now has a friend, Keshi Anderson coming from deep and smacking it home from around the penalty spot. It's a lovely finish, a lovely simple and incisive move and fucking brilliant moment. 1-0!  

Someone sits back down on the bench. They have a little move where their two strikers cause a bit of concern but we overcome it. Dan Ballard goes up for a corner and as he chases back and battles for possession, he looks every inch the ghost of Andy Morrison. If you remember the flesh and blood reality of Oh, Andy Andy, then you'll know, there's no greater compliment. 

Ollie Turton skins his man and puts the perfect ball in. No one gets on it. It deserved it, just for the sheer delight of seeing Ollie not check back. Marquiss has a few efforts from distance... I can't decide if we need a sub or not. Critch decides we do. Chissy can't decide who it is. It's definitely the goal machine until it definitely isn't... We have to wait ages as Pool pass it about until Ballard uncharacteristically whacks it out of play. Finally all is revealed. It's Ben 'he plays for Liverpool so he must be good' Woodburn for Keshi who, were the fans in, would have earned himself a good hand. 

The ref books Marquis for throwing himself on the ground on the edge of the box as Pompey swarm, trying to make an angle for an effort. 

Kaikai strikes one from miles out, it bounces once just in front of the keeper who makes a tremendous save. Woodburn slips a beautiful pass to start a move that involves a Jimmy Husband cross and ends with a Hamilton snapshot that is bundled away. 

The Goal Machine comes on for shirtless/lonely Jerry and instantly wins a flick on. Then he wins another and Woodburn makes it, goes down for a penalty shout (denied) - then a third flick, out to CJ, who gives it back but Super Gaz, who has carried on into the box, can't quite finish off the cross. Woodburn puts it through to his feet, he runs then pivots and flicks it across goal for CJ who again, can't quite get in front of his man. We then get a classic bit of Madine in the corner, controlling a long ball, holding off his man and then engaging the radar that only Madine possesses to find Sullay with blind back heel that even Sullay didn't expect but still lands perfectly at his feet and allows him to control it. 

Five minutes of added time.

A weird moment as Kenny Jackett stands in front of the the concrete steps and his grey complexion and hair means his head seems to completely disappear. It looks for all the world, like a headless spectre is gesticulating for his team to show some urgency. I can only see Jackett's jacket (and his trousers) until he moves and his head reappears against the tangerine backdrop. 

Jimmy Husband misses a header, Marquis races forward and hammers it low at the near post, Maxwell should save it and does. From the corner, there's a horrible 10 seconds of wild kicking, they can't shoot, we can't clear until, finally, we do. Sullay is away but his touch is tired and they come back, launching it long, but the flag goes up and Chissy gives us 'all fall down' as one of their strikers slides in and sends Marvin sprawling. 

There's time for another quick burst of classic Big Gaz in the corner. There's time for a booking for Sullay who has come up with the cunning plan of simply not taking a throw in until the ref blows the final whistle. There's time for a glorious cathartic hoofed clearance from Turton where he quite simply twats it as far as he can.  

Then the whistle blows and we've fucking done it! 

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Despite my misgivings about the team selection, I thought we did very, very well tonight. Pompey showed very little and didn't look anything special. I was having flashbacks to earlier in the year where not scoring early meant defeat but we defended well and kept at it and deserved that result. Second half we had enough to maybe get a second which might have flattered a bit, but only a bit. That's not to be sniffed at and a team like Portsmouth don't simply let you win games. 

Kenny Dougall continues to make us tick in the midfield and is more of a footballer than I think we'd imagined he would be. One of his crossfield passes was almost Charlie-esque. The defence as a unit did excellently. Marv and Husband had a couple of moments but I don't think Turton or Ballard put a foot wrong aside possible for Ballard's booking when he perhaps realised he'd got wrong side and took out his man to be on the safe side. A moment perhaps where a more picky ref (he was really good, there to facilitate the game and wise to piss taking but did no more, let the players play physically and the game flow) 

It's good to see Keshi involved and enjoying himself. He was looking a bit lost and tonight he showed a bit more of the class he undoubtedly possesses. I thought Woodburn did well when he came on as well. Again, like several performances recently, I thought they all did well and we are reaching a point where you could say, most position have genuine competition. We're at a point where someone like Turton HAS to play well (and he did) to keep his place. The one question mark is up front. I still think we're royally fucked if Madine's back goes again. Yates ploughed a lonely furry manfully and I was really glad to see him involved in the goal, but we cannot go back to that week in week out with no back up or option of support. No one else in the squad can play his role. Arguably others could play off Madine if Yates get a knock, but no one can do his job. 

We know what we want for Christmas. Another Gary Madine! Maybe Critch will go back to the 433 tactic now, but I think it would be a mistake. I think the beauty is, we can now play a couple of different variations with confidence and that's no bad thing. 

I don't really know why Pompey are where they are on the evidence of this game, but then had someone seen us play MK Dons or Ipswich, they'd have concluded we're complete shite, so that's as much as I can say on that. I didn't think that much of them in the game last year either but they're always going to grind out results with Kenny Jackett so to beat them is a big 3 points. Well, it's just 3 points. Numbers don't get bigger or smaller, but I'm sure you'll forgive the lazy expression. 

Wizards the lot of them. Onwards! 

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Up for the Cup?

It's about time we won something again...

It might be just me, but the fact that every football match is equally unspectacular right now, seems to have done the FA Cup the world of good. Ok, so the average Champions League team has slightly better players than Chorley, Marine or Canvey Island, but at the end of it all, they're still just some lads running round in an empty stadium. 

There are nearly 40,000 registered football clubs in the country. Anyone who plays professionally is pretty fucking good at football. They're at a team who are in the top 0.0023% of all teams in the country even if they're playing for Crawley Town, Stevenage or Carlisle. The lads who play for Chorley and their ilk aren't quite in that bracket, but they're not so far behind. What's more, whilst in the Champions League, you might see the overpaid stars, sheltered from normal life, trooping off grumpily to their secure biobubbles and recovery tents after a defeat or reacting to a win with a flurry of product placement tweets on twitter and some sort of emoji that suggests they are 'blessed' - in the cup, you get to see the keeper going to the offie in his kit for the lads. Which is better? 

Can you honestly tell me the raw joy of Chorley and the rest isn't worth as much as the money the elite win for the Champions League? What is football for? Servicing the financial and lifestyle dreams of the elite or giving everyone a bit of fantasy, a bit of escapism, a bit of magic? The wide eyed shock of the draw, the nervous anticipation, the pure, genuine naive elation of the win. This is visceral, joyful and real in a year that has been pretty short on raw delight and genuine pleasure. The Champions league serves up game after game of humdrum tedium. That's something we aren't short of in 2020. The cup, with its brutal knockout formula is excitement, raw win or lose sudden death jeopardy. 

Every day is predictable. I've not been more than 10 miles for anything but work for so long. Do I really want to watch the same sides slug it out again in games that don't matter where I know whose going to win probably? Do I really want to watch soap opera football, the same cast endlessly reoccurring, reenacting the same predictable plot lines, managers acting like surly villains, scowling and muttering when they don't get their way? What I want is something, anything different. I want a jolt of life, a dose of the impossible. I don't want hours of debate on tactics and hours of post mortem on why we need a VAR to check on the VAR.

I want a good game of football. Blood and thunder if possible, ideally with some cracking goals (the cup has already had its share of 30 yarders, great passing moves and thumping headers) and a bit of tension... Players going mental when they score, managers suited up like it's the biggest day of their lives, passion, breath steaming in the air, shouting, pointing, players running themselves into the ground like there's no tomorrow, for if you lose in the cup, there really is no tomorrow.  

For some teams, it's not a case of 'their season rests on this' - it's a case that they've never, ever achieved this before. It's a case that a win will secure a windfall that will secure the future of the club, it's a case that the players will write themselves into local folklore. It's not about securing a 'market share' or a manager 'reaching expectation' - it's just fucking magic. It's about the team at the end of your street, dreaming of playing against Man Utd. 

I don't know if it's just me clutching at the buoyant escapism of football in a sea of dissatisfaction, but it feels, just a tiny bit, like the magic is back. Perhaps it never went away? Maybe it was just obscured by the gloss of all that operatic music and hype, by the spectacle of the big games, the pomp and circumstance and relentless selling of the 'occasion.' and maybe, when all of that is stripped away, we can see the old trophy again, sparkling and resplendent as it ever was. 

I can just feel something in the air. It's going to be a special FA Cup. Someone is going to get an all mighty shock. Someone unlikely is going to win it. The game at Wembley will have some kind of magic to it, because, after this year, how can it not? Abide with Me will never have sounded so good. 

You never know, it might be us... 

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