With relegation confirmed, I’m feeling very lonely at Oakwell tonite. Were there 4000 there, or 5? Probably the former, and that included around 800 from Blackpool. Nevermind protests against the owners, the empty seats speak volumes, as fans who’ve already paid to be here vote with their feet. And why not? It’s Man City-Real Madrid in a Champions League semi-final, it’s chilly, and we are RUBBISH. Yes, you’d be insane to turn out to watch this, especially as we’re down, but I’m determined to see every home league match for the first time since the season after the Prem. I think the crowd was officially given as 12,000 odd. Odd.
In a nothing of a game, Kitching gives the ball away in their half, one pass and they’re virtually clean through, cutting inside to rifle it into the top corner. Maybe some of the fans have been right all along…we should never have deviated from last year’s tactics of just booting it as far away down the pitch as we could, all the time, every time. At least we’d lasted 39 minutes.
Second half was a carbon copy, in that we never looked like creating a chance, nevermind scoring, in the first half….and we never looked like creating owt in the 2nd. But at least Adeboyejo plays a part in a goal, being outmuscled for the flick on. How can a bloke his size be muscled out of ANYTHING? He must be the weakest 16 stone player I’ve ever seen. 0-2 and a few more leave. The only Reds fans left must be members of some secret masochistic society.
Somehow, the Tangerines miss an easier chance than the ones they’ve scored, as they’re clean through and it’s bounced kindly…but he slices it. Still, another of theirs pops up to slam it off the far post with our defence all at sea. An even harder shot follows, as Wolfe wellies it off their bar from 25 yards. As close as we’ve got all night, as close as we’ve got all season. We are RUBBISH. Still, it was nice to see former Red Kenny Dougall running things in midfield.
Onwards and upwards!
*** No-one. In defence…..
** No-one. …..in midfield….
* No-one. …. up front….
Official MOTM: Wolfe. Yes, I was amazed they announced one too, considering we’d lost (again).
Londontykes’ MOTM: 1. No-one 2. No-one 3. No-one
Despatches:
Today was the anniversary of our promotion to the Premiership. Just saying.
The (bizarre) highlight of the match was half-time. Quina, Bassi and Gomes, the loanees responsible for the 3 wins in February which offered us hope, were wheeled out in front of literally dozens of fans, to receive a bouquet of flowers and be frogmarched around the pitch. What’s the matter with a card and a simple ‘Thanks and f.off’…cos they might as well as. I can bet we’re paying these players’ wages right to the end of the season, so why not play ‘em, cos what we have left offer zero hope. And at least Quina gave us some entertainment, trying to guess at what point he’ll part with the ball.
I shouldn't criticise though. My own apathy shone through pre-match when I saw a couple of fans in orange and white scarves. I thought Stoke played in red. I presumed the colours had faded on them.
Drink du jour: A pint of Leffe with Nice Guy Chris in Wetherspoons. The original amber nectar and £3.79 to boot. Compared very nicely with the £3.65 flat white I’d had earlier.
Away: 800? Decent turnout from Blackie, midweek, nought to play for.
Points per game under Devaney: 0
The Damage:
£30 travel
£3 prog
= £33
The Tunes:
Antidawn EP (Burial)
Wet Leg (Wet Leg)
Greatest Hits (Tupac Shakur) (£1 in a charity shop; I’ll never get that money back.)
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