I am livid, absolutely livid. No, not the football. We’ve been s*** before, and we’ll be s*** again. No, they’ve only gone and levelled Peel Square toilets. Am I alone in considering this a social, cultural and historical act of vandalism in Barnsley town centre? It’s a landmark, and one that’s been there for over a century. (I know this because the dates were on the porcelain – made in Burnley, c.1912). I mean, I understand it may no longer have been fit for purpose, and possibly been a haven for all things illicit, but that’s no reason to knock it down and bury it under a wealth of paving slabs. It was a thing of BEAUTY, the wrought iron gates opening to a magnificently tiled - cream and green – Georgian (1910s) masterpiece, with a wall of curved urinals. How can the people of Barnsley have allowed this to happen? (I’ve since read the plans have been in place 4 years, and now we’ll have an open space ‘capable of holding pop-up markets’. WTF? Barnsley town centre has enough empty space capable of holding a market stall or 3. All this tells me is that the town, the people, have no civic pride, blinded as they are by the development of the white elephant / Big Yellow Storage building that is the Glassworks.) Anyway, the toilets are now gone. There’ll be no cool underground bar, a la Shoreditch, or Newcastle. Even if they simply locked it up, the structure was easy on the eye, in a way a blank open space of paving slabs can never be. Barnsley, the more you try to improve, the worse you get. It breaks my heart, it really does.
The football? It was the worst possible result, as we were beaten out of sight, then a couple of consolation goals papers over the cracks and gives the coach ammunition for saying there’s the seeds of improvement. There isn’t. (Room FOR improvement, yes, seeds OF improvement…no.) After a first half devoid of content, the Blunts came out and put us to the sword early in the second period, scoring 2 within 8 minutes. Mousset scored a quality double. The first, he chased down the ball towards the corner, doubled back on Helik, then rifled it into the far corner from 20 yards. We’ve seen Cauley…and Big Vic…score similar (but not for a season). The second, a quick break, was inevitable the moment they got free on the left. Kitching was always the wrong side of Mousset, who swept the cross high into the net. Game over.
From then on, it could have got (more) embarrassing. We’d throw men forward in clueless fashion, run into a wall of Blunts, then they’d break and be 2 on 2, 3 on 3. How they never racked up 4 or 5 is to their own ineptitude. ‘How s*** must you be, it’s only 2-0’ sang the Ponty (more of them later). Another break, this time down the right, another cutback, and it’s 0-3. Hopefully that’s the end of Schopp. This was the cue for many to leave (though not as many as I’ve seen leave early in other games).
By now, Schopp had played all his cards. Big Vic was rewarded for being our one striker of presence by being given the hook, for Devante Cole. The crowd didn’t like that. Kitching was hauled off for Hondermarck, who promptly went into midfield, with Moon taking over at the back from Kitching. Reward for some of the worst passing of a football I’ve ever seen (Moon, in midfield). Kitching promptly marched up the stand and sat on his own (in one of those seats which are completely unsafe for the fans to use). What a mess. Still, we then took it to ‘em. Moon hit the post with a 20 yard rasper, while Cole…..Cole….missed an open goal with a sidefoot at the backpost. Woeful.
Then the unthinkable. A loose ball is lashed home on the volley…by Cole! Once the cheers died down, the Reds were met with ‘We’ve scored a goal, we’ve scored a goal, we’ve scored a goal’ from 3 2 sides of Oakwell. Let’s just say disbelief at us scoring a goal outweighed belief in the comeback. Then, after 82 minutes, Iseka bags, hitting a loose ball having stumbled through a couple of weak challenges. You can see the Blunts bricking it, as collectively they drop deep, and no longer make runs behind our defence for fear of losing the ball. Still, we never really looked like equalising, though a last minute corner had Collins challenging to net. I’d have LOVED that to have gone in, a last gasp equaliser from the keeper, if only to ‘reward’ all those fans who left early. But let’s not pretend it was anything other than a hiding. We were embarrassed and embarrassing.
Onwards and upwards!
*** Hondermarck. I know, I know. How can one give a MOTM to someone on the pitch for 16 minutes? One is disrespecting the honest toil of however many others. Yes, I am. Honda came on, bossed midfield and made one fantastic run (you know the one). Came on and 8 minutes later we’d gone from 0-3 to 2-3.
** Big Vic. Honest toil and good hold up play.
* Iseka. Scored. So did Cole, but Iseka didn’t also miss an open goal.
Official MOTM: Ha ha haaaa…you seriously think they dared name an official MOTM? Yeah, right. (Or, if they did, I never heard it.)
Londontykes’ MOTM: 1. Adeboyejo 2. Iseka 3. Hondermarck
Despatches:
The fans. We/they are beyond anger, all that’s left is sarcasm – and it worked. Once the fans started taking the p*** out of their own players, we started scoring. Since the third goal, the Ponty was chanting ‘we’ve lost the ball….we’ve lost the ball…we’ve got the ball….we’ve got the ball’. That was on top of calling for the manager’s chop, of course. ‘We want Schopp out’ changing to ‘We want Markus out’. What’s with using his forename? Surely you have to use the formal ‘Schopp’ if you’re calling for his head on a platter? Along with the inevitable ‘You’re getting sacked in the morning.’ We wish. As we have been wishing for 4 or 5 games (and the rest). Still, my own award for best chant of the day goes to….’West Stand, give us a song…’ Our historic stand, lying there empty, save for as many press and directors as I’ve ever seen. The stand is obviously safe for some…(actually, let’s just level it and replace it with paving; we don’t need a 4th side.)
We lined up 3-5-2, if you consider Brittain was playing for us. Someone put him out of his misery (please). Same for Moon. You simply can’t be allowed to make as many misplaced passes as he did, and be allowed to stay on the pitch. Even once he was moved back into defence, he continued hoofing the ball to them. And while we’re calling the vet, bring a 3rd bullet for Cauley. The man is undroppable. I get that he tries hard, I get that he’s our best striker…but it’s just NOT working. Surely a game or 2 on the bench might focus his mind, take him out of the firing line, etc. (It says something that in chucking on a bit of pace in Cole and Iseka, we looked more dangerous than in a while, though how much of that was due to a complacent United, I don’t know).
United were there for the taking too. They were so, so poor 1st half. Mind, one #7 regular thought otherwise, so Daryl put him right: ‘I was sat in front of someone who used to be in charge of waste for Yorkshire Water. And he said United were s***, and he knows what s*** looks like.’ Oh, it was good to see the electronic scoreboard working again too. From that, I can tell you it took 39 minutes for our first effort at goal (Moon, over) and 44 minutes before Big Vic flicked an effort on target. Woo hoo! BTW, early doors, Vic skipped round their right back, pulled it back…and nobody was there. I moaned about this after the last game. Our players should KNOW what their teammate is going to do, should know where to run, should have practiced this move in training…should have….should have….Christ. Watching our front 3 in the opening half, you’d swear they’d just been introduced to each other at kick-off. I’m with Brittain (on Radio Sheffield, t'other week) – we simply have no clue going forward.
Finally, I think I can get used to Sunday lunchtime kick-offs. I get to enjoy my Saturday, for a start. (Yesterday, I went to Ryhope Colliery Welfare v Bury in the FA Vase.) It also affords the opportunity to have a post-mortem of our latest defeat in the Old #7 (as opposed to a pre-match inquest into where it WILL go wrong. So what that it creates difficulty for those of our support who live far far away? (hello Londontykes!) F*** em, it’s their own fault!
(Copied from a missive from a fellow Londontyke) Icing on the cake today – someone posted a picture of the empty (But for the directors, scouts, media, youth team and various other hangers on) death trap where I used to sit and I can clearly see someone sitting in my seat and without a hard hat and flameproof clothing. Hard to escape the conclusion that I have been lied to about how unsafe that stand is
Drink du jour: Beavertown Neck Oil. The Weihenstephaner ‘isn’t on’. Isn’t that the most irritating thing, when you go into a bar, suss out what’s on tap…and it isn’t. New landlord an' all, I'm told.
Away: c.4000
The Damage:
c. £32 petrol
£3 programme
= c. £35
The Tunes:
BBC6 Music (Cerys Matthews)
Mordechai (Khruangbin)
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