‘They’re down. Definitely.’
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| Welcome to...the old Main Stand. |
There were some angry people in the Old Number 7 after the match on Satdy. Was there a worse performance this season? Well, there’s been plenty of competition. But for sheer tactical ineptitude, this took some beating. How many centre forwards did we have on the pitch towards the end? 4 or 5? Well, I wouldn’t care, but the only one capable of scoring (Swansea City’s Ollie McBurnie) was centre midfield by this point. F*** me. Every time I sensed a change, I was waiting for McBurnie to be put up top, but no, he went from left wing, to left midfield, to ambling around in the centre circle. WTF is this new coach DOING? I cannot believe he’s passed whatever coaching badges he needs (did he buy them online?) cos it was a masterclass in how NOT to manage a team.
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| Maaaan, it was cold. |
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| The teams line up. |
From the off, we had Thiam on the right, McB on the left and Moore looking every inch the carthorse at the spearhead. Gardner, Potts and Mallan to provide the creativity from midfield. At least we were spared the Williams/Gardner combo. Reedy has likened their inability to play together to England’s Lampard and Gerrard. Well, if this is our ‘Golden Generation’ we need to call Houston. We have a problem.
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| West (old Main) Stand seats. |
For 20 odd minutes, all was well. The game wasn’t going anywhere (hurrah, another point!) till Mallan, filling in for Williams, does what Williams does and gives them the ball in a dangerous position. Another pass later, they’re clean through and Townsend is picking the ball out of the net. Their first shot on target? Probably. Still, I s’pose we bought Mallan to create, and boy, did he manage that. 0-1. We proceed to not look like scoring, while the weather bounces from glorious sunshine to snow blizzard and back again.
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| Looking towards the away end during a sunnier spell. |
I was continuing my tour of the ground. My dad refuses to come till we start winning (!) and he looks more the sage with every week. So I went for the West upper this week. Cosy, dark…and the advantage of stanchions in the way. I could have done with a few more, cos I could still see enough of the action to realise how s*** we are. Plus, if truth be told, I was a bit lonely, not fancying moaning constantly to complete strangers.
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| The view from the old Main Stand. |
Half time, Mallan is dragged off. Bit harsh but I can understand. Moncur is on. Christ. How many hapless ‘creative’ central midfielders do we have? And how bad must McGeehan be, if he’s behind Mallan, Moncur and Kajagoogoo in the pecking order? Worryingly, Moncur goes on to show he possibly IS our best midfielder, puts his foot on the ball, beats players, makes runs, and in one glorious move, plays a one-two, gets to the edge of the box and sidefoots an effort towards the bottom corner, which the keeper tips around the post. (The keeper tipped a similar shot from Lindsay around the post, while McBurnie’s hook over the keeper was cleared off the line.)
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| Moncur on...we MUST be in trouble. |
Unfortunately, this is to give the impression we were somewhat in the match. Let’s ignore the 30 yard strike into our top corner for 0-2, a goal from the moment it left his foot. Now, Reds, here’s an idea: when kicking WITH the wind, use it to your advantage and HAVE A GO. Millwall did and look what happened. Fair play to ‘em. We didn’t, and look what happened to us. Little over an hour gone and quite a few fans take this opportunity to leave. Good call.
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| 0-2, clueless coaching, weather closing in, match going on....Ponty emptying. |
Millwall miss the best two chances, Townsend saving a one-on-one and another being stabbed wide. We are all over the place. Morais finally sticks on a winger…but takes off a central defender and Gardner has to move to centre half. This coach is making things up as he goes. I go downstairs and stand in a blizzard for the last 10, while using a stanchion as protection. Full time can’t come quick enough.
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| The last few mins are played out in a blizzard. |
It is now 11 home games without a win and counting. Not a sniff of victory at Oakwell for over 4 months. Time is fast running out, and what with Brumingham finally bagging a win, things are looking bleak for us. We’ve only won something like 2 games against the top 20 and we haven’t any games left versus anybody else. We look as doomed as we have at any stage this season. Oh well. We might win more games next season. Might.
Onwards and upwards!
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| The distant hills are a whiteout. |
** Moncur. Aside from Yiadom, the only Reds player not to s*** himself in possession.
* Gardner. Tidied up, covered, rarely gave ball away.
Twitter MOTM: Thiam (I’m told). Wasn’t announced at the game, problies cos they heard fans laughing when it was announced we could vote for the MOTM.
Londontykes' MOTM: 1. Yiadom 2. Gardner 3. No-one
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| West Stand bogs (with added roof, since the last time I was here). |
What’s your record for number of Walnut Whips in a day? One? Phil did 3 on Satdy and still bought another packet ‘for my mates’ (hoping we’d not have one). His final tally of 4 is still pretty impressive.
I quite enjoyed the 1pm KO. Still time for a pre-match pint (literally: one) but time for a post-match autopsy in the #7 before catching a train to Sheff and another couple in the Tap. Probably one reason Reedy and I did so poorly on our bottle of vodka – too much beer!
The players? Well, apart from the aforementioned: Townsend: S***. Penniless: S***. Lindsay: S***. Jackson: S***. Potts: S***. Mallan: S***. Thiam: S***.Moore: S***. McBurnie: Played out of position.
Which reminds me. I walked into the Old Number 7 after the game. Molly had baggsied a table (he left when the 2nd went in). ‘He needs sacking.’ That was it. No ‘hello’. No ‘mine’s a pint.’ 'He needs sacking.' I concur. Has any 'permanent' BFC manager ever completely lost the faith of the faithful within 5 games? Not in my memory.
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| Seeing out the last 5...a lonely experience. |
Drink du jour: Wheat beer all the way (Erdinger and whatever the Sheffield Tap had) plus vodka, followed by pale ale in St P. Then home (after falling asleep on a nightbus; where the hell IS ‘Clapham Park’?) then getting home, watching The Championship (glutton for punishment) and falling asleep on the couch.
Away: 740. At least they enjoyed themselves.
The Damage:
£30 train
£3 prog
£25 away shirt
= £58
The Tunes:
Favourite Worst Nightmare (Arctic Monkeys)
Fading Frontier (Deerhunter)
Fabric 84 (Mathew Jonson)
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| A deceptive Oakwell panorama. |
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| Oakwell panorama. |
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| The East Stand and the few gluttons still left. |
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| The Ponty in busier times. |
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| In the old Main Stand. |
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| Come on you Reds! (1) |
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| Come on you Reds! (2) |
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