At the LNER Stadium (nee Sincil Bank) we drew a blank, but it wasn’t for the want of trying, particularly 2nd half. I know the stats say we only had ONE shot on target, a bobbler from Luke Thomas late on, but that didn’t tell the entire story. Their goal led a charmed life as Adam Phillips tried to walk it in. Did he dummy it twice, or 3 times, before his shot was blocked, 10 yards out? Then Bobby Thomas, unmarked on the back post, flicked it wide with the goal gaping. Why’s he flicking his head like that? JUST HEAD IT STRAIGHT AT THE GOAL. I think he wanted to find the corner, when all he needed to do was get it on target. (It was the first of many mistakes from Bobby last nite; he couldn’t put a foot right as passes went astray time and again.)
Thing was, it wasn’t even Lincoln’s first choice keeper. He’d been sent off at the weekend. So we spent 90 minutes not even trying to test this young lad from any range whatsoever, though I suspect a fair amount of that was stalwart defending from the Imps backline and midfield, who got back in numbers. Also, while our build up play wasn’t as ponderous as Burton away, there were still far too many hoofs/dinks to their centre halves. And if it cleared the centre half, it just ran through to the keeper. Listen, lads, there isn’t a player in the Premiership who can make the pass we’re trying to do. Who out there can chip a ball over a centre half, into a small amount of space between him and keeper, and make it spin backwards for the centre forward to run onto? So why are WE trying to do it?
Cole and Norwood looked lost, forever making runs out wide while midfielders (and defenders) misplaced the final ball. Though later, with Jordan Williams on the left beating his man all ends up, he pulled it back across the box for…..nobody. It was a perfect cutback, which neither Tedic, nor Watters, nor Phillips, nor anybody of a Reds attacking persuasion, read. Don’t these players PRACTICE? Whenever Man City pull a ball back, as defenders run to the line in panic, there’s someone popping up to knock it in. (Even Raheem Sterling could perform this most perfunctory of tasks while at the Etihad…and don’t tell me he’s anything less than rubbish).
Yes, it wasn’t our night, but fair dues Lincoln. They put a shift in, made life difficult, and forced the save of the match from Isted, 1st half, as he tipped it onto the bar. It’s not all doom and gloom. Next season, I’ll make a weekend of it. Sarah’s never been to Lincoln.
Onwards and upwards!
*** Mads. It’s that part of the season where I wonder who our star centre half will be playing for next season.
** Isted. Had one thing to do and did it perfectly.
* Norwood. Put himself about, yet often found himself one v two.
Londontykes’ MOTM: 1. Andersen 2. Isted 3. Connell
Despatches:
The journey down was…interesting. I rather fancied getting there early, savour Lincoln, but twas not to be. A late start, caused by a paint job taking a lot longer than I envisaged, then problems on the A1. Roadworks south of the M62 meant losing a lane. And with us sensible types tucking in with 800 yards to go, it gave the tw*ts chance to push in. 4 went past before I pulled out to stop them, in time for a white black van man to go ape behind me, smashing his steering wheel and shouting abuse, as I prevented him cruising that 800 yards further up the motorway. Is that you? Are you that type? At one point, he tried to skirt around me onto rough ground by the central reservation, till I cut him off. Listen mate, I’ve got places to go too. Letting dozens of other cars cruise to the front would have meant it taking longer for those of us who were there first. And I didn’t realise it, but it would have meant me missing more of the match than I did…
The road cleared and I got off at Blyth (South Yorks edition) for a ‘comfort break’ and a Greggs. I put the ground into Google. Christ, 58 minutes…and it’s an hour before kick-off. But it’s taking me past Lincoln and in again. F*** that. I jumped in the car and went A57. ‘Toll bridge ahead’. What!? Yes, I had to cross a bl**dy toll bridge. On an ‘A’ road. Are we in the 18th century? (Insert own ‘Lincolnshire’ joke here.) Forty pence it cost me. Even odder, I then went through the hamlet of Odder, before being held up on a railway crossing on the edge of Lincoln. Is it the 19th century here? All these things would’ve been far more quaint were I not in a rush. Luckily, I parked up in a dead end side street about 10 mins from the ground, with Nozzer hassling me about when I’m gonna turn up (cos he had my ticket). Sorry, Nozzer. We got in just as the match kicked off.
And what’s this? Late in the first half, the ref has called a break to let me have a p***? Very kind of him, though someone in the bogs reckoned it was for Ramadan. Really? I thought we’d got rid of this religious nonsense when we started allowing games to be played on a Sunday. (Weirdly, while we couldn’t play games on Sunday, we played on Christmas Day. Go figure.) I’m sorry, but why are we pandering to people who CHOOSE to fast. (As an aside, there’s already a few loopholes allowing muslims to break their sacrifice anyway.) Honestly, at the risk of being accused of being a Daily Mail reader, I find it outrageous. (It didn’t help. Larkeche was subbed anyway.)
The players? Kitching disappeared after a promising first half. Jordan Williams encompassed everything (in)consistent about rhe performance, one second being brilliant, another giving the ball away needlessly. Ditto Kane and Connell. Was it Kane got booked for halting a Lincoln break? Too early in the game for dishing yellows Nozzer says. So we agree that you can do whatever the hell you want in the first 20 minutes and go unpunished. That’d liven things up here in the lower divisions. I never really noticed Cole. Occasionally, I’d see him run, but the ball never got there. Still, running is one thing NO-ONE has seen Watters do. Or jump. Again, he was lucky to escape a red as an elbow sorted the Lincoln scamp who dared to challenge him. (Sadly, when the ref eventually blew, we were up in numbers with the ball out wide.) Tedic was anonymous. Ooh, and fellow sub Luke Thomas. He probably looked the most likely to break the deadlock…till he allowed himself a shot and proved otherwise.
Anyway, it was a handy midweek fixture for me, being that I had to head on to London to organise a carpet fitting at my property in Peckham. So Weds was spent in Sarf Landan, thinking about things I miss….the panoply of ethnic restaurants, great drinking holes, the buzz of busy streets, Khan’s Bargain Store (where else can you buy a window squidgy and spices?) and warm, sunny weather. But in the interest of BBC balance, I’ll happily not miss dirty streets covered in debris, religionists (Christians) on their microphones telling me to let Jesus into my life, beggars (deserving or otherwise) and the mentally deranged, screaming at anybody and everybody in Greggs. Yes, Peckham certainly has more life to it than Ferryhill!
Drink du jour: Likely. That jam on the A1 put paid to that.
Away: 1700 and some. Packed. A crackling atmosphere, as we entered, and couldn’t get to our seats for fans standing. I loved being stood right behind the goal on a rammed staircase. All we needed was a goal and it would’ve gone off in there.
Today’s take home: Can we now officially start planning for the play-offs?
The Damage:
£24 ent
c. £20 petrol
= £44
The Tunes*:
Grey Area (Little Simz)
The Best of NWA (NWA)
Their Law: The Singles 1990-2005 (Prodigy)
Live and Dangerous (Thin Lizzy)
*They’re back, after an enforced absence. Listening to NWA and The Prodigy whilst sat in traffic ensured I was more pumped for the match than the players. Thankfully, they calmed me down.
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