Fulham 2-1 BFC, Saturday 23rd December 2017

‘We’re richer than you, we’re richer than you, we’re Barnsley FC, we’re richer than you.’

Welcome to ....

This is novel. We’re in Fulham, West London, and all I can hear are Barnsley fans chanting about being richer than them.  Must be the Billy Beane / Chinese / American consortium effect..  ‘We’ve got Billy Beane, Billy Beane…la la la la la la la la’.  Let the good times roll!

Optimism wasn’t high pre-match (unless you’re Andy ‘Bradshaw to get two’ Jones) but who cares?  We were in the White Horse, Parson’s Green, and they’ve Pilsner Urquell unpasteurised in the vat.  I’ll take 3.  I’d take more, but I have a match to attend.  The athletes (Reedy, Rock ‘n’ Roll Jim, me) elect to walk the 20 odd minutes, the rest get ubers.  What is it with the youth of today?  One of the glories of Fulham and Craven Cottage is the walk.  Where else in London do you get a park to walk through and glimpses of the Thames?  Have you ever been to Tottenham?

The pre-match hullabaloo.

Numbers were unsurprisingly down on last season’s incredible 1800. Christmas doesn’t help, and neither does two points in seven games.  I cannot remember the last time we looked like scoring in open play and surely only a miracle will prevent me picking up mountains of moolah after Bradshaw’s latest failure.  Whothehell would bet he’d score a dozen before Xmas?

Putney End...neutrals and away fans alike.

The Fulham boys won’t let us put our flag up (no fire safety certificate) but at least we can stand up and generate an atmosphere. And it was very lively early doors, till we realised the Fulham fans weren’t offering anything and ditto the Barnsley attack.  The game was generally spent in and around our box, though Moncur spurned the best opportunity, ghosting in to sidefoot a volley over at the far end.  Their keeper also came out and messed up and if Barnes had a right foot, surely he’d have lifted it over him into an empty net.  He didn’t.

The teams come out.

Nil-nil at half time, but it takes less than 10 minutes of the 2^nd half to concede one of our trademark goals: the cut inside and drill home from 20 odd yards.  Along with the backpost header, we must let in more of these goals than any other team in the world.  It’s a decent strike, too, bottom corner, but why don’t we score these goals?  Oh yes, we need a player who can hit a ball from this range.  At least it’s not Williams who’s being waltzed around this time, it’s defensive lynchpin Moncur.  Who will rid us of this turbulent believer in priests?

Must be Christmas..the 3 wise men are here.

By now, ‘Last Christmas’ is banging around the away end and the Fulham goal does nought for it to subside.  It must have gone on for 15-20 minutes without respite.  Then Hecky brings on Isgrove (welcome back!) and Hammill on either wing, the former looking especially dangerous merely by running about and being keen.  Both are a vast improvement on Thiam (another failure when on from start) and Moncur.  Who will rid us….etc

The view from the Exec boxes.

Still, it comes as some surprise when the Super Reds do equalise, Yiadom playing in a peach of a long cross for Bradshaw to sneak in and head home.  THE MAN!!!!!!!!!!!  I did say I was hoping he’d bag one, if only to make the bet interesting.  In the next few minutes Bradders furthermore narrowly fails in a scramble, while he drags a 20 yarder wide with his left, with others in more promising positions.  The match is now truly on, or at least till Fulham put a cross in from the right…and it flies over Davies and into the net. Jammy f***ing ba5tards.  But why was Davies on the front post?  Another entirely avoidable goal and despite Isgrove’s best efforts, we never really threaten again.  Time to get to the pub, claim my £30 of winnings…then spend £40 on a round.  A victory of sorts, then….

*** Lindsay.  Won everything in the middle, broke up play. 
** Pinnock.  Good partnership with Lindsay and a couple of crucial blocks.
* Yiadom.  Back to form – in time to engineer a move in the January transfer window.

Onwards and upwards!

Looking towards the Hammersmith End.

Despatches:
Isgrove was unlucky not to be top 3, outstanding.  Hopefully he’ll be in the starting XI soon.  Otherwise, we’re nothing if Barnes isn’t on it, and he hasn’t been for weeks.  McCarthy didn’t have a great game.  The more fans sing about how he never loses the ball….the more he loses the ball.  Can we just bin this s*** chant?  I’d be tempted to bin Thiam and Ugbo too.  Will Thiam EVER score a goal in open play?  The less said about the latter the better.  The future of England my front bottom.  And don’t point out to Loko how Williams loses the ball, or you might see how Loko loses his temper.  Thankfully Reedy did it for me.  ‘BUT HE’S ONLY LOST IT TWICE!!!!’ screamed Loko, proving he’s at least one short of fingers (and that was just the 1^st half).

On the plus side, we’re now only two points above relegation and yours truly has £20 wagered on us going down.  Last week the pre-match vote in the pub was 10-1 in favour of us staying up. Let’s see what it is by New Year’s Day…

The cottage, bedecked in Xmas lights.

Drink du jour: Pilsner Urquell unpasteurised, Big Wave IPA, Pilsner Urquell unpasteurised.  I reckon me and Reedy made double figures, Satdy.  And about two-thirds the way through that number I had Alison hectoring me for daring to be part of the home-homing fraternity.  Seems I’m not allowed to hold left wing views if I own a house!  Too right! 

Away: c600.  Best atmosphere of the season, incredible.

The Damage:
£20 ent
£3.50 programme
= £23.50

The Tunes:
A Deeper Understanding (The War on Drugs)
Let Them Eat Chaos (Kate Tempest)
It’s Album Time (Todd Terje)
The Far Field (Future Islands)

Fulham v Barnsley panorama.

The Riverside Stand.

Pilsner Urquell unpasteurised.  The amber nectar.

Darkness descends on Barnsley's chances.

Alison's fabulous (free) Xmas jumper, courtesy of #1 son.

Brentford 0-0 BFC, Saturday 16th December 2017

‘One good thing.  When we’re 3 down at half time, there’s no shortage of pubs we can go to.’

Nice touch....Xmas at Waterloo Station ticket office.

HOLD THE FRONT PAGE!  The rot has stopped.  After 5 defeats in a row the Super Reds finally scrape a point!  And scrape we did, an outstanding performance from the centre halves and keeper restricting Brentford’s first half dominance from burying us alive.  Then, with our tails up 2^nd half, we had Moncur pulling the strings for 20 minutes and we very nearly pinched it when Barnes sent in a low cross and Bradshaw cleared the bar.  A difficult chance, but a chance nonetheless.  I don’t think the sheeting rain helped, but it was nice to see what we COULD do. What we USED to do, before Barnes lost all his form (Bradshaw has remained consistent).

Welcome to ...

After a couple of errands in the morning, I rocked up to Waterloo to narrowly miss one train and have the next one cancelled.  Great. Meant I had to hang out with the Slacks and Nice Guy Chris.  It was lovely really.  I’ve never seen Ian moan at young Jake before,but like every other teenager in the land, Jake is perennially hungry (greedy)…though giving him a tenner to go and get something seemed extraordinarily generous.  Needless to say the tykester came back with A Burger King meal.  

The Royal Oak...re-open for business (back to a pub on all 4 corners).

We encamped to the Griffin.  Why change a winning habit after last year’s 2-0?  I think the highlight was when Reedy came back from the bar with about 8 beers and upon dishing them out I heard ‘oh, Allan didn’t want one.’  Did I not? Woulda been nice to have been asked.  Ian got one, and I was at exactly the same stage of pint he was.  Duly noted, I got up, waded through the crowd, bought my own beer and then chatted on to a couple of Brentford at the bar who were discussing who they wanted to see relegated from the Prem.  ‘I tell ya who I’d like to see go down’, I said.  ‘It’s be great to see West Ham get relegated and the Olympic Stadium in the Championship.’  Cue a very (very) dirty look from one, and a quick ‘oh, he’s West Ham’ from the other.  Well, I was only saying…

Merry Xmas...(I missed the teams coming out).

Of course, everyone loves Griffin Park, with the pub about 50 yards from the turnstiles.  So make the most of it, they plan to be out within 2 years.  In disseminating their plans in the programme, Brentford also admitted they had a problem on where to house the club offices, since there wouldn’t be room at the new stadium.  WTF?  They can build a 20,000 ground, and quite a few houses to boot, but yet not find room for a couple of offices?  I am confused.  I think they need a better architect.

They don't build overhangs like this anymore.  Cosy.

We cosied up behind the goal, ready for the expected onslaught.  And it came.  It’s great when all the action’s at your end.  Davies smothered one when clean through, while a shot which was going in was blocked by Lindsay.  The midfield, containing Gardner (‘he’s not even a good gardner!’) and Moncur lived up to its pre-match billing: woeful.  Nevermind the front 2, Thiam and Bradshaw.  Have they actually played well in a game in which they’re STARTED together?  Cos if they have, I can’t remember it.  I don’t know what’s worse: Bradshaw on his own up top or the pair of them together.  No need to worry, we’ve got Ugbo on the bench.  ‘I’d pack him off an’ all’ said one Reds fan I overheard.  I concur.

A busy looking Bill Axbey Stand.

So, we scraped to half time despite not having had a kick of the ball.  I lost count of how many times I heard ‘we’re not gonna hold out’ but the quota increased when I stood next to Nozzer 2^nd half.  At least I was stillin range of Loko going apoplectic at Moncur every time he went near the ball.  All good fun!  At least you could see Moncur (it must be that stupid top knot – would God approve?).  Gardner shuffles about aimlessly.  Actually, while I think on – is this the 1^st point for a Barnsley midfield containing Gardner?  Hecky: you’ve won your bet.  You don’t have to play him anymore.

A rare 1st half foray into Brentford's half.

The rain then seriously started coming down.  A time for big strong northerners to show their mettle.  Step forward Super Georgie Moncur, running things from wide midfield.  (Hammill is officially now 3^rd at best in the wing pecking order behind Potts and Moncur.)  Flashes of skill, laying balls off, keeping possession.  What a shame that when he actually could have done some damage, he completely miscontrolled a long ball which could have sent him clean through.  Oh well.  At least we’d recovered some sense of pride amongst the team and support.  But hang on, there’s still time for Brentford to cut inside from the left and unleash a shot which arrowed towards the far bottom corner – only for Davies to tip it around the post.  A fitting end to a super performance from Davies.  Let’s hope it continues.

Is that us nearly nicking it?

*** Davies.  Saved everything, caught everything (in the rain!) and kicked everything onto the pitch.  A job well done. 
** Lindsay.  A key reason why, for all Brentford’s possession, they had few decent efforts on target
* Pearson.  As above.  Only last 50 minutes, but it was the toughest 50 minutes.

Londontykes MOTM:  1. Lindsay  2. Davies  3. Pearson

Despatches:
Having a lowish view, I can’t say I was an expert on every performance, but I could see McCarthy was showing the winger too much on his outside, though at least Yiadom’s defending was an improvement on lately.  I can’t say we ever looked like scoring and, barring a miracle (Bradshaw scoring 2 next week at Fulham) I am in the money.  Still, it is the time the little baby Jesus was conceived by the Virgin Mary and Gabriel’s mate, the Big G, so’s all not lost yet.

Onwards and upwards!

Drink du jour: Pioneer lager.  Average.  Then Weihenstephaner at the Waterloo Tap.  Above average.  Home in time for the Strictly result.  Joy.

Away: c900.  Good atmosphere, before another terrace bites the dust.  Let’s hope we play here next year.  (Hang on though, I’ve only gone and bet 20 quid we’ll go down.  Oh dear.)

The Damage:
£20 ent
£3.50 prog
= £23.50

The Tunes:
Ghetto Style (Gil Scott Heron)
Cypress Hill III Temples of Boom (Cypress Hill)

Griffin Park panorama

Davies about to launch it.

Danish Bees.

Half time ents, Xmas-style.

Back of the away end.

'Maximum price £20.00'

BFC 0-3 Derby County, Saturday 9th December 2017

‘Bradshaw won’t get 12 by Xmas 2018, nevermind 2017’

Work do, Fri nite.  (Not me.)  An omen?

I’m fast running out of ways to describe the latest ineptitude at Oakwell.  Is that 5 defeats in a row or 6?  Who cares?  Little Lee made it 8 (and knocked us out of the cup by non-leaguers) so by my reckoning, Hecky can lose us 20 on the spin and still be safe.  Some people say it’s difficult to wonder what’s happened, but it looks pretty simple to me: the defence can’t defend, the attack can’t attack and the midfield can’t midfield.  The goalkeeper doesn’t do much keeping of goal either.  Did they really score with every shot on target?  Thank god they only had 3 shots on target, in that case.

The Derby whores hordes.

Like Dirty Leeds, we’d lost this game by half time.  In a nothing game of football with nothing happening, Derby open the scoring when one of our centre halves clears the ball to his own area, and while McCarthy stares at it, they nip in and score.  Simples.  The second I thought was a well worked move.  Well, it must have been, cos none of our defenders got near any of the 3 attackers involved in the build up.  Vydra sidefoots home.  (Later, in the 2^nd half, we miss the same chance, before Derby run up the field to bag a 3^rd.)  About the closest we came to scoring in that opening period was an overhit backpass the keeper scrambled away.  (BTW, did that count as one of our ‘shots on target’, cos I’m struggling to remember anymore.)

Match action in front of the old Main Stand.

Early 2^nd half, Derby survive the early Reds onslaught (well, a Potts 20 yarder which cannons off the bar) before the game descends into more nothingness.  Then, a rare chance, as Moncur’s trickery sets up Barnes, to set up Ugbo…who hits the keeper from 8 yards.  That’s ok though, it’s not like Derby will run up the other end and…oh.  A bit of head tennis on the edge of our box and Derby show how it’s done again, a crisp half volley from 20 yards.  Shoot early, shoot on target, and you get your results.  I leg it to the loo and miss what I presume is the highlight of the match: booing Sammy the Snake coming on for the Rams.  Oh well, at least Super Sam shows our defenders how it’s done, clearing a ball from virtually under our bar.  Tw*t.

0-3, the Ponty empties.

*** No-one.  They were all varying levels of s***. 

** No-one.  But I’d be hard pushed to think of anyone who impressed me even slightly, ‘cept for

* Moncur.  The more we play Potts and Gardner, the more Moncur looks like a footballer.  We are going down.

Londontykes' MOTM:  1. Williams  2. Moncur  3. Thiam

Twitter MOTM: I have no f***ing idea.  There was one, right?  (It was Harvey Barnes)

Despatches:
Those Derby fans, they must be really confused.  One minute they’re singing they wanna go home, Barnsley’s not all that salubrious, next minute it’s ‘Don’t take me home, please don’t take me home’.  I won’t miss ‘em.  Plenty of crowing on the train platform too.  Well done lads – your team has beaten Barnsley.

Our players?  I have no more words to say on the matter.  Davies, Yiadom, Lindsay, Bradshaw, Thiam, Potts, Gardner.  S***.  S***. S***.  S***.  S***.  S***.  S***.  Honestly, Moncur is the least of our problems.  But why can’t McGeehan get a game?  Why was Fryers dropped?  Why do we WANT to get relegated?  As for Thiam, one backheel doth not a footballer make.  Learn to pass it with the side of your foot before you try the fancy stuff. Or try scoring a goal, that'd be good.

A seasoned regular tries to stay warm.

Drink du jour: Arcade Ale House this week and they’ve only gone and got themselves some bottled Weihenstephaner.  All the way up till I drank them out of it.  Then a 7.2% Sierra Nevada Torpedo ipa, which I recommend heartily.  Those and the fish and chips (Gary’s Fisheries) almost made the day worthwhile.  Vodka and orange on the way back, but we took it easy, not even finishing a bottle between 3 of us.  Sad days.

Oh, and after sending a Whatsapp message proclaiming still being awake as I crossed the Thames…I fell asleep.  Still, 1^st one of the season, I think.

Onwards and upwards!

Away: 3,166

The Damage:
£23.80 train
= £23.80

The Tunes:
Let Them Eat Chaos (Kate Tempest)
Best of ….. (The Specials)

ps, my money’s safe.  Perhaps we should make it ‘can Bradshaw even have 2 shots by Xmas?’

Panorama v Derby County.

Still awake....

Christmas in Peckham.

Reading 3-0 BFC, Tuesday 28th November 2017

‘We take one step back to go two steps further back.’

Reading, a Tuesday night.

A week is a long time in football, probably too long to be writing match report after the event, but here goes; maybe it’ll be even less accurate than usual…

Well, it all started at K Town.  Of course Andy and I would be there on time, and of course, our chauffeur (Dave) wouldn’t.  Still, 20 minutes…enough time for a pint.  Yes please.  Sadly, Dave arrived and we had to down the remnants.  There went our excuse, we had to go now…

All went as expected.  Plenty of queues and an hour and a half to drive 30 odd miles.  Then, just as the traffic actually flowed, the dam was about to burst.  Either we made kick off and I wet myself, or….  Luckily, the team had been announced.  An uninspiring line-up (no Hedges, after the Leeds cameo..and Potts out wide.  No Bradshaw or Thiam, but Ugbo given a run out.  Moncur still there.  WTF?)  Yeah, no rush.

A bit busier in this stand.

Sadly, we didn’t miss much.  Got there in plenty of time to see which team could give it away the most.  What a terrible pair of teams.  Noticeably, the game was played in our half, making us the lesser of two appalling sides, but it still came as a shock to concede.  Reading have a corner, and their bloke saunters towards the front post, 6 yards out.  I can’t say he lost his marker, cos I don’t think he had one in the 1^st place.  The resultant flick-on is fumbled into the net by Davies.  The highlight for me was seeing one terrace regular going potty at Davies.  (You’ll know him by sight; a moustachioed mate of a hairy mate who knows Molly.  Does that narrow it down?  Wears glasses, straightish, slightly thinning, greying hair?  60+.  Come on , you know who I mean.  Anyway, him.)  Well, he was going berserk at Davies, and he still hadn’t calmed down by half time as…

Reading celebrate #1.

We concede a 2^nd.  From a Reading point of view, it must look a blinder, 20 odd yarder into the top corner.  Sadly, from behind it, it was all a bit slow-mo for me as the player gets a lucky hit which goes over Davies, who’s off his line.  I’m rather more p***ed off with Williams getting the wrong side of said player and neither centre half closing him down, allowing a free hit.  Didn’t we concede this goal 3 days earlier at home to Leeds?  Heckingbottom can share some of my ire there too.  Once is a mistake, twice is stupidity, etc.

So I said to the bloke next to me...'Oi!'

Still, Hecky realises we are beyond woeful and attempts to do something radical, hauling off 3 (it could have been 10) of our penny dreadfuls: MacDonald, Gardner and Ugbo.  The improvement is noticeable.  We now have 2 up front and we’re pressing them, instead of vice versa.  Unfortunately, chances are still at a premium and Reading go up the other end and cannon a long shot off the post.  Then, with 5 mins left, comes our chance.  Thiam backheels a delightful ball into the path of Starman Barnes, who’s on fire of late.  However, like all left-footers, he only has one foot and strikes the ball off the post from 15 yards with his right.  Should have bagged, and that’s our lot.  But to cap an atrocious night, Davies makes a great save from a shot, tipping it onto the bar, and while the rest of our defence stand still, there’s a tap-in of a header for them.  God we are s***.

*** Fryers.  Did alright.  In a game where ‘alright’ makes you our best player over 90 minutes.  

** Thiam.  Audacious backheel.

* No-one.  

Londontykes' MOTM:  1. Thiam  2. Williams  3. Fryers

Onwards and upwards!

Away: c200.  Peas rattling around a tunnel.  The home end was the same.  

Full time.  Can we go home now?

Despatches:

I’m not going to go through the entire team, but what is the point of a Gardner?  (Actually…I need my lawn mown.  Do you think he’d be up to it?)  And as for everyone’s favourite least favourite player (Moncur) I read a piece in the Sun at the weekend, with our resident godbotherer thanking the Good Lord for his ‘footballing talent’.  Well, after nearly choking on my own vomit, I did start wishing he’d at least be a bit more Calvinist.  Perhaps if he did some f***ing work, he might yet make a footballer.  As for the moaning (before and after) about Hedges not being in the team, I can understand that.  Hedges did damage against Leeds on the LEFT wing…and our best player is our left winger (Barnes).  So to put Hedges on the left, you then have to mess around with Barnes.  And Leicester City’s Barnes is way more valuable to us than Barnsley’s Hedges, which is a real shame.  Oh well.  Oh, and if one moment summed up our performance, it was one of our classic corners.  We play it short, it goes back, goes back again, then again, and before you know it, Davies is in possession.  Compare with their 1^st goal.

The one plus I can think of was the reciprocal arrangement we had with Reading, whereby season ticket holders got a fiver off.  This kind of thing should happen more often.  We’re the ones footing Moncur’s wages, etc.

Drink du jour: Leffe, Camden Pale Ale

The Damage:
£20 ent
£15 travel/parking

The Tunes:
Sunburst and Snowblind (Cocteau Twins)
Hippopotamus (Sparks)
If You’re Feeling Sinister (Belle and Sebastian)

'Thanks for your effort.'  'Whatever.'

BFC 0-2 Dirty Leeds, Saturday 25th November 2017

‘We’re f***ing s***, we’re f***ing s***, we’re f***ing s***'

Welcome to...Oakwell and the Sky lorry.

I am cold. I am frustrated.  I am depressed.  It must be November and I must be at a home game at Oakwell, as we fail to win again.  I blame physiology myself.  Our players simply aren’t cut out for anything other than 3pm on a Saturday, our capitulations in live games v Dirty Leeds and Villa proving this season; but hang on, we don’t win 3pm games at Oakwell either.  Another theory goes the way of the rest.  Personally, I knew we were going to lose when a lady came out of the toilet on the train and wiped her feet on the carpet.  Never a good omen.  Slacki sent a Whatsapp message; he’s recording it, so don’t spoil it for him.  I told him we were two down after 20 minutes.  2 hours before the match even kicked off.  I was only 29 minutes out, as Dirty Leeds bagged the crucial 2^nd 4 minutes into 1^st half injury time.  Drat.  (An understatement.)

The Super Reds line up.

And it all started so well.  Actually, I don’t even remember it starting averagely.  We were played off the park from start to finish in the 1^st half as DL pressed high up the pitch with 3 players and had two more in back-up in our own half.  We simply didn’t have the ability to pass it around them.  Think the Super Reds under that magical spell under Flitcroft when we did the same to others.  Would we start missing our players out and going long?  Well, on the rare occasion we did, a DL centre half simply strode across, headed it back and we were under pressure again.  It was one of the most dispiriting halves of football from the Reds in a long while, and against this set of Jimmy Savile-loving reprobates as well.  Not happy

Dirty Leeds.

The one bright spark to our day was going via Sheffield, so a chance to sample an ale in the Tap, which turned into two when our train was cancelled.  Great.  We stood up all the way to Londontown.  Good job we’re athletes.  Still, the journey always goes faster when there’s plenty to moan about – and there was plenty to moan about.

We went behind when DL picked up a ball in our half (Williams the wrong side) and was allowed to stride 15 yards unchallenged before firing home low to the keeper’s right, classic Redfearn.  Why the centre halves stood back and let him please himself, I’ve no idea.  As for Davies, what’s he doing? Trying to scoop it clear?  JUST BLOCK THE THING, MAN.  Poor all round from our point of view.

Idiot Corner blocked off this season.

Thereafter, it’s all a bit scrappy, but there’s some light as a scuffle ends in Barnes and their fullback being booked.  Brilliant. Barnes will skin him, get the bloke a 2^nd yellow and we’re in this game.  Only the opposite happens, and Barnes escapes a blatant early bath when the ref takes pity and doesn’t book him for a blatant tug.  This leads directly to their 2^nd, as Barnes pulls out of fouling their man for fear of being sent off and the ball runs to another DL who hits a triffic strike into the far corner with his left.  Christ. Just as I was thinking we could limp to half time and have Hecky change things for the 2nd half.

The Ponty v DL.

Hecky does change it at half time: Barnes is off, before he’s sent off.  All hope evaporates.  Who else is going to set something up?  DL are put through and nearly score a 3^rd.  We never look like bagging and send on Ugbo.  We never look like bagging and we send on Hedges.  We must be desperate.  However, this week the left-footed one is played on the LEFT and looks a world beater, whipping in two glorious low balls across the box and beating a couple of players for our only decent effort on target.  I don’t know how one cross didn’t end up a goal, with the defender shinning it over the bar from 4 yards.  At least there was some entertainment to be had, but too little too late.  At least the early kick off allowed me to get back to London for a party.  Silver clouds and all that.

DL defend a corner.  (We had a corner?)

*** Hedges.  Fabulous cameo. ** No-one.
* No-one.

Twitter MOTM: Hammill

Londontykes' MOTM:  1. Hedges  2. No-one  3. No-one.

Despatches:
Absolutely nobody else came out with any credit, Hecky included.  It was going wrong from the start.  Be bold.  Make a raft of subs, change the formation, anything.  Don’t wait for the inevitable, followed up by its sequel.  Two down it was effectively game over.
As my dad said, none of our players would have made Leeds’ team today.  Everyone was tragic in their own way.  Davies could have done better for the 1^st and his kicking and throwing were back to their woeful worst.  Yiadom kept overrunning the ball in taking players on.  Fryers’ deadballs were just that. Williams made a few tackles, but continued his record of giving the ball away.  Hammill was the Twitter MOTM, possibly for one blocked shot.  Lindsay and MacDonald looked like strangers, while the former suddenly decides he wants to play it short all day when, for once, the ball needs to be hoofed. Bradshaw was Bradshaw (I can smell that money now.  He’s never gonna get 12 by Xmas at this rate.)  Barnes did beat a player, but as mentioned, was an accident waiting to happen.  Potts was anonymous, or as anonymous as a 6ft 3 blond can be.  And talking of Moncur, he was so invisible Reedy and I hadn’t realised he was taken off.  Mind, it wouldn’t have mattered had we had a dozen players on the pitch.  And that Gardner bloke.  Christ.  Have I seen a worse footballer in a Reds shirt? It was pitiful and all in front of the nation too, courtesy of Sky (tho I’m not sure how many would tune in for this.)  So at least we got paid (big?) bucks for a game destined for a lunchtime kick-off anyway.  Hopefully it paid for all the police who were there today, there were dozens of them, including some from Scouseland. 

Police vans as far as the eye can see.

Finally, great to see Cardiac Jones back in action after his health scares.  He wasn’t drinking neither, which was handy, cos he made the run up the hill in Sheffield for the booze.  But I can’t help feeling his resistance to temptation was somewhat undone by his diet on the way back: Ham sarnie with lashings of butter, cheese crisps and a pork pie washed down with a walnut whip.  The meal of champions.  I give him two months.

Onwards and upwards!

Away: 4.530.  And at least they didn’t crow too much.  The atmosphere was a bit muted all round once they scored.  Job done, I guess.

Drink du jour: Weihenstepaner in the Tap and Erdinger on the train.  I wasn’t allowed to arrive in London too hammered.

The Damage:
£24 train

The Tunes:
Until the Hunter (Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions)
Slowdive (Slowdive)
Claustrophobia (Scuba)

Panorama from the Ponty.

Panorama from the East Stand.