We’ve played all season with Craig in midfield, behind a foraging Phillips and Connell. So he’s dropped. DKD is cup-tied, but Jalo gets a start up top, with Watters. Yoganathan is given a trot. Where’s that come from? Are we trying to put our young players in the shop window? Transfer deadline has passed, Darrell. We’re playing away at a Premiership side packed with international talent (and Marcus Rashford) and we’re playing 2 up front without a defensive midfield. Let’s see how this pans out. It works extraordinarily well for 5 minutes, as Cotter skips down the right, only to be chopped. Why is this not a yellow card, ref? Cotter is in acres of space and can pick a pass with no-one between him and the penalty area. The free kick is wasted (one of many ‘stories of our night’).
We haven’t exactly hung on, but Manure are starting to gain the upper hand. If and when we do get the ball, and find ourselves the wrong side of a Premiership star, our player is simply fouled, the home side allowed to re-group, the ref enjoys a joke (probably) and we play on, but with 11 opponents in front of us instead of 4 or 5. This must have happened half a dozen times on the halfway line. We’d turn their player and be on the front foot till a shirt tug here, a ‘mistimed tackle’ there (none of them were ‘mistimed’, their fouls were entirely deliberate to prevent the break). Absolutely zero cards. It’s only little old Barnsley.
Like the Premiership seven-nil, we were fairly comfortable, till we weren’t. In that Prem game, we didn’t concede for the first 20 minutes, but were four down by half-time. Last nite it was 16 minutes. ‘Battling Barnsley’ it was not, as we sought new and varied ways to let Manure score. And just like that Prem game (7 goals from 9 shots) our keeper barely made a save. But before anyone says he had no chance with any, Slonina is at fault for the penalty, haring out of goal (but not haring fast enough) and taking out their player, wide in the area, going nowhere. Needless, but all too predictable, as it happened right in front of us. Was that 2-0? Antony scores and makes that ‘heart’ sign with his hands. Another one for the book.
The gates opened with the 1st, as Rashford burst through from their right. It’s nice that we’re playing a former ‘world class’ England player into form. (Can I add ‘over-rating Marcus Rashford’ to my Grate Britain’?) O’Keefe and Roberts are left in his dust and Slonina invisible as it’s lashed comfortably into the net. Anyway, playing RASHFORD into form? What about all the other United (Grrrrr!) players who’ve been slated all season? Antony, £80m of uselessness looked half decent (only half, mind), while Casemiro was there or thereabouts and Eriksen, no goals in forever, bagged two. ‘Different planet’ I read. And they are. But let’s not pretend they’re all that: if they were that good, they wouldn’t have been playing a 3rd round league cup game; they’d be playing in the Champions League tonite, with Liverpool and Villa. Nevermind Man City and Arsenal. How many would THEY have scored against us?
The 3rd is a clever stabbed finish from Garnacho, the last kick of the half. We are seconds away from going in at a respectable 2-0 and now our thoughts are on ‘how many will this turn into?’. They’re just quicker in thought and movement than slow, lumbering 3rd division players. And without incredible last ditch blocks from Cotter and Roberts, that scoreline would have been worse.
Coach Darrell pulls the plug on his Jalo experiment (the kid losing it every time he had it, all 3 times). Humphreys is on, so maybe we’ll out-tattoo them? Craig is on for Yoga Bear and McCarthy (who everyone has forgotten) comes on for Roberts. We last 4 minutes before Garnacho makes it 4-0. Ludicrous defending on the halfway line sees Garnacho free to run 40 yards to score. I really can’t explain why our entire team had seemingly drifted left, leaving him all on his own. Beyond baffling, but as I said, it’s nice to see the differing ways we can concede a goal, cos this one was a new one on me.
The fifth might be the one where we just gave them the ball on the edge of our own box (Craig?) Our fans turn it up a notch. ‘We’re gonna win 6-5’ coupled with ‘How sh*t must you be, it’s only five nil’. (Chris didn’t like that one.) Turns out we’re not gonna win 6-5. Eriksen scores a close range tap-in for 6, then a long range tap-in for 7. There is a real danger we’ll let in 8 or 9, and one of the few things I’ve got to hang onto in my life is that at least I’ve never seen us concede 8. (Washday, The Mags...even Arsenal...all have in my lifetime). Fortunately, time runs out. Megastars 7 (seven) Amateurs 0 (nil). Still, at least I was out of there quick and managed to get the 1st tram outta dodge. SOME things are creditable in Grate Britain.
Onwards and upwards!
*** No-one. It was bl**dy terrible.
** Cotter. Slim pickings, but for the early runs and the goal bound block, launching himself across goal.
* No-one. I’ve looked up the team again to see if there’s anyone (anyone) who I can give credit to. No, there isn’t.
Londontykes’ MOTM: 1. Cotter 2. No-one 3. De Givigny
Despatches:
My ticket cost £41. A cheeky Lord Selwood asked if we got good value. Well, at about six quid a goal, possibly. Respect to Reedy for boycotting on principle. I’ve been boycotting Dirty L**ds and Washday for years due to their pricing policies, but I couldn’t resist. This will probably be the last time we visit the self-styled ‘Theatre of Dreams’ (don’t get me started). Anyway, we’ll always have February 1998.
Decent turnout, considering. Over 6,000 Reds fans made it over, and let their lot know about it with a rousing ‘we support our local team’. (I didn’t join in, obvs.)
Anyway, I loved my day out. Arrived in Manchester b4 1, pub crawled all day with Nice Guy, had dinner at Mackie Mayor (look it up!). Sadly, my tolerance for alcohol is better than I thought, so I wasn’t in the state I’d hoped to be in for the inevitable hammering.
Drink du jour: Northern Monk Faith, Cloudwater Fuzzy, Beaver Town Neck Oil...and another one…Fancy Juice IPA, Blackjack Hazy Meadow, Elvis Juice at Northern Monk Refractory, Eastern Bloc, Peveril’s Peak, The Britons Protection, Fierce, Mackie Mayor and Brewdog. Outside at Eastern Bloc, in the glorious sunshine, was as good as it gets. Yesterday was my summer.
Away: ‘over 6,000’.
The Damage:
£41 ent
£4 prog (left in the pub)
£13.80 train
= £58.80
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