Christmas Eve?

Last time Forest arrived at the Keepmoat I was almost certain that it would be win or bust for the maligned manager.

This evening I pulled up in exactly the same parking space and, musing over the evening to come, I found myself drawing exactly the same conclusion about the game ahead.

Going into the game against Norwich I had seemingly unfounded expectations of seven points. Following Saturday’s turgid serving I shared a common view that consecutive wins would be the only acceptable attainment for the week.

But here we are again, grumbling about another poor result and staring up at mid-table as if it is the summit of an indomitable mountain.

Frankly I have had more than enough.

This evening’s game proved to be a sorry affair; a docile audience, a stammering tempo, and neither side truly worthy of three points.

As it happens, the linesman’s haphazard ruling that Lee Camp’s fumble did not cross the line is the only reason we didn’t lose.

Early in the game Doncaster struck the crossbar with Camp stranded, and an ominously bouncing lob evaded the net by mere inches late on.

It just isn’t good enough. Doncaster are a side lacking in confidence, arguably they are lacking in Championship quality too, and yet they bossed possession almost without interruption for the entire game.

Forest sat back and tried in vain to break down the channels. Doncaster snapped at every second ball, and their forwards harried our defence as we mechanically sent sidewards passes into oblivion.

Our set-plays were terrible too. Even our throw-ins look amateurish as nobody moves and recipients are out-battled.

Everything indicated that we were reasonably content to take a point from South Yorkshire tonight. And again, that just isn’t good enough.

The Forest crowd were dour for most of the game, with scant cajoling from the happy-clapping home fans. For a period in the second half we rallied behind the side but the reaction was as anti-climatic as the game in its entirety.

Towards the end of the second half the Reds nearest the technical area struck up a quite spontaneous chorus of “Calderwood Out”. The man targeted turned his head sharply, as if startled.

At the end of the game he slumped into the demeanour of a man fighting to keep his chin skyward in spite of an imminent blow.

He briefly acknowledged the visiting fans, which he rarely does in person, and he took time out to shake hands with each of the Doncaster players.

To my mind, it was the conduct of a beaten man. And as macabre as it is, the thought of that man spending Christmas out of a job is the only thing keeping me positive tonight.

It could be argued that waiting for Forest to turn the corner this season has been like waiting for Christmas, but Christmas is nearly here now and there are no discernable signs that Calderwood’s plans extend beyond waiting for our luck to change.

He is not a bad man. He has never doused himself in deprecating infamy like Kinnear, and he hasn’t sold our soul like Megson. But he has consistently performed below expectations; instilling an ethos of monotony.

This season he has failed even to do that.

I no longer sympathise with any view that Calderwood must stay; I simply do not see what we are waiting for.

Tomorrow morning Doughty must bring Christmas a little closer.

Ratings: Vs Doncaster Rovers [A]

Camp – 5 – two gaffs could have cost us the tie.

Chambers – 6 – a reasonable display.

Wilson – 5 – the skipper just doesn’t look himself; several mishaps nearly rolled out the red carpet for the home side.

Morgan – 6.5 – generally solid and won almost all of the aerial battles with Gareth Taylor.

Lynch – 5 – clumsy and behind the pace; barring two solid blocks in the second half he had a very poor game.

Anderson – 6 – often excellent when in possession, but drifted out of the game too frequently.

Perch – 6 – steady enough, but far too bog standard to have any answers in our current plight.

McGugan – 6.5 – arguably the only player likely to play the killer balls we were desperately missing, but too often he played himself into cul-de-sacs.

Martin – 5 – huffed and puffed, but was ineffective and out-muscled. Threw a minor strop when substituted.

Garner – 6 – real honest graft, but little end product and he should have netted in the first half.

Tyson – 6.5 – his pace was really our only outlet all evening, but if we’re depending on Tyson alone it’s no wonder we’re in a mess.

The Inevitable

The season is fast becoming a disaster.

We are hurtling toward League One and showing few signs that we have anything like the ability or the resolve to survive.

There has been eighteen games already, and for the last 16 I have drifted in and out of a cloud of ignorance.

On numerous occasions I have assured enquirers that survival will ultimately unravel itself before us, and in doing so I have reassured myself.

Even now I find it difficult to envisage relegation; the despondent, shell-shocked murmur of anguished supporters, the return of tears and terraces and “You’re not Famous Anymore”...

Even now I am contenting myself in some ludicrous assumption that everything will fall into place.

But it won’t.

A series of brave performances have fuelled the fires of tolerance recently. But this evening’s televised humiliation brings with it the foreboding clarity of pessimism.

All of a sudden, the draws against D*rby, Birmingham and Bristol City are no longer indicative of a revival. Instead they have been exposed as the plucky but ultimately fruitless product of a side that is working hard, but simply isn’t good enough.

Today we were out-worked, out-passed and, frankly, out-played by an average side with fewer players.

It was a mess.

We didn’t control the ball at any point in the game; our midfield was a vacuum of dead space as our wingers pushed on aimlessly and our defence gave them impossible balls to follow.

In attack we were reduced to chasing lost causes and pointing the finger of blame.

The one player likely to bridge the chasm between our attack and the rest of the side was Chris Cohen, who was eventually dumped at left back to clear a path for show pony Lee Martin.

And it is on this point that I bring to the table the most compelling evidence to date that Calderwood is not only incapable of fulfilling his duties, but also undeserving of any further backing:

[Reporter]: A lot of people are wondering why Chris Cohen, one of the more creative members of the midfield, was moved to left-back there?

[Calderwood]: The decision was made to bring a bit more pace to the attack.

And with all due respect, it was the right decision.

Can somebody explain that to me? Because from my vantage point I saw Lee Martin have three touches, and I saw Nottingham Forest lose.

The manager went on to dismiss talk of his sacking with a quip about the BBC Radio Nottingham reporter sitting closer to the stands than he does.

It’s just not good enough.

I’m not entirely sure what basis there is for allowing another false dawn.

We might beat Doncaster, we might even beat Barnsley too, but Calderwood has proven beyond reasonable doubt that he just doesn’t have enough in his locker.

For some people it will be a major relief, for others a shame that things couldn’t work out.

But at the moment Doughty is only delaying the inevitable.

Slobbering Baseball Caps

A dark, damp, miserably grey afternoon in Bristol bearing all the hallmarks of a festive fixture – and almost complete with the customary winter disappointment too.

It was a hectic game, dominated by half-chances and counter-attacks.

In different circumstances we could probably have landed all three points today, but Bristol City’s fans will be saying much the same thing.

The prevailing positives are that we have survived another game without defeat.

We are growing in resilience, we no longer look worlds away from taking the lead, and the side is peppered with players whose confidence levels are rising notably with each game.

The negatives include the fact that we again did our utmost to throw the fixture entirely.

Lee Camp’s heroics have kept the club from the foot of the table - just.

Despite a bold contribution from nearly all concerned, we never looked entirely stable and City’s swift, decisive movement of the ball always threatened to undo us.

For all of our huffing and puffing, neither equaliser can have been considered a surprise.

But that is not to say that we didn’t cause problems of our own. At 1-0, 2-1 and even 2-2 we spurned opportunities to seal the points.

It was another vast improvement, all things considered. Ignoring one or two fleeting shirks in the midfield it was a full-blooded affair, and we clearly gave our hosts more of a game than they had been anticipating.

One thing that nobody failed to pick up on was the work rate of the players, and the award of another last gasp penalty had heads in hands.

Like most people, I feared the potential damage presented by a defeat in spite of such a committed performance.

I also feared the rage that would inevitably result from having to take in the celebrations of the slobbering Bristol folk in their baseball caps.

And so, just like I did at Pride Park, I turned my back on the action.

I only rejoined it when I saw the loafers behind me leave the concrete in celebration. Lee Camp, the loathsome, egotistical genius, had spared us again.

The view from the away end at Ashton Gate is irksomely inadequate; seats sinking into themselves and pillars galore are a relentless obstruction.

But I witnessed clearly enough Camp raising two arms smugly above his head in triumph.

I left the ground with a grin.

Whether or not today’s result goes down as a success will depend on our ability to capitalise on back-to-back Saturdays at the City Ground and a crucial Tuesday evening in South Yorkshire.

In any case, it could have been a lot worse.

Match Ratings: Vs Bristol City [A]

Camp – 8 – not at fault for either goal, solid throughout, and again responsible for sparing us a point with a terrific penalty save. His all-round proficiency is gradually demonstrating to the Smith fan club what the rest of us have been whining about for some time.

Chambers – 6.5 – he snatched and he panicked at times, but I thought Chambers played reasonably well this afternoon. He didn’t go hiding, he didn’t get lost, and he even tested the keeper with an effort that could have won it.

Wilson – 6 – a fairly poor game from the skipper, without any particular calamity.

Morgan – 8 – for a long period he was a genuine reason to believe that we would hang on for the win. Nothing spectacular, but he cut up possession and flung himself in the way of absolutely everything.

Heath – 6 – not as composed as he was in the second half against Birmingham, but a reasonable contribution nonetheless. In the first half he found himself on the wrong side of a couple of ensuing City counter-attacks but he appeared to settle.

Anderson – 6 – his pace and vision were, yet again, an excellent outlet. But where on earth was the final product? If he had kept his composure in the final third this afternoon we would have won this and had more to spare. He also pulled out of two 50-50s which, whilst commonplace, is something I detest.

Perch – 6 – not exactly an all-action performance but one or two important interceptions.

Thornhill – 5.5 – not the game for him at all. With Thornhill sitting alongside Perch we lacked both substance and presence in the middle, and we were desperate for something more when he was substituted. There is some irony in the fact that we conceded anyway.

Cohen – 6 – another plucky display, characterised by his work rate but undermined by his wasteful set-pieces. I’m not entirely sure why we are treated to the Calderwood Special (i.e. swapping two players around, for the craic) when Cohen is on the left. He isn’t really a winger, let alone a right-sided one.

Garner – 7.5 – busy, eager, hard-working and well worth his goal. I hope he can sustain this form and support it with goals because – at the moment – he looks a real talent.

Tyson – 8 – a goal that he desperately needed and genuinely deserved. His pace is simply exceptional and when it presents itself as a real asset, as it did today, it’s easy to forget how he can sometimes look so dire.

Brian Clough's Red and White Army

It is with some difficulty that I attempt to bring to life my thoughts about this afternoon’s game.

Words alone are regrettably inadequate. So much of the experience is dominated by raw emotions; fear, elation, fury, ecstasy, and – at some points this afternoon – simple bewilderment.

Tottenham and Arsenal have their bouts, Manchester United and Liverpool operate a ferocious hatred, indeed most teams up and down the country have somebody to return their revulsion and loathing.

But Forest-Derby, in spite of its lower profile, has to be one of the most meaningful clashes of them all.

It is based not only on proximity and decades of tussling, but also the tangible bitterness that derives from overlapping histories.

Clough left Derby behind and achieved his greatest successes in Nottingham, before of course returning to live in Derby. Both sets of supporters claim him to be their own. Both sets of supporters rage at any suggestion his allegiance lay elsewhere.

The result is that every second of these days is of vital importance.

Everything from the walk to the stadium to the pre-match singing in the concourse is electrified by a sense of anticipation - it builds days before the game and lasts throughout, adding a surreal mist to the entire experience.

Pride Park itself never fails to fill me with an irrational anger. The black and white cladding, the oversized ram outlines stencilled on to every surface, the army of yokels swathing the nearby wastelands...

I hate every brick in the building and every one of the people inside it.

There’s no logic behind these feelings; on the whole they’re just like us. But that’s the beauty of it – there doesn’t need to be any explanation other than the clarity of passion.

I despise them, and they despise me.

It is, thus, with enormous satisfaction that I claim November 2^nd, 2008, to be Nottingham Forest’s day on a number of points.

Firstly, the ‘Super Ram Masks’. Do I really have to say more?

Secondly, our support. Whilst 30,000 Derby fans stewed over the scrappiness of the game, the visiting Forest supporters frequently sang in unison; drowning out any fragmented cries from the home crowd.

“Brian Clough’s Red and White Army” had everybody, young and old, singing from the pit of their lungs. It always does at Pride Park, and it always leaves the natives begrudgingly speechless.

Thirdly, the outcome. Forest fans partied their way out of the ground whilst Derby’s faithful skulked; others remaining shellshocked in their seats.

Derby will remember this day with anguish; they feel robbed, cheated, violated and overwhelmingly disappointed.

On no less than three occasions they experienced the soul-destroying collapse in spirit that follows a disallowed goal, or of course a missed penalty.

We Forest fans, on the other hand, are still pinching ourselves about escaping with a point.

Context is all. Certainly for those who attended the game today, the outcome was as sweet as any victory.

In any case, the full-throttle celebrations of the opening goal made the entire afternoon worthwhile. For two or three minutes time stopped and everybody screamed themselves hoarse; for two or three minutes very little else seemed to matter.

This was my fourth visit to Pride Park and it is the first time we have taken the lead. It was worth the wait.

I didn’t see Lee Camp’s penalty save; too disgusted by the notion of 30,000 bouncing Derby fans I turned to face the people behind me.

What I did see was Paul Jewell, the dribbling, sneering scouse predator, plodding on to the playing surface to celebrate Derby’s second ‘winner’ in full view of his adoring public.

Seconds later he was hopping about like a startled penguin; heads in hands all around him.

And that was beautiful.

Tonight is not about Calderwood, or league tables, or even about disallowed goals.

It’s about the magic of Derby fans being wrenched from the brink of sleep by a deep-seated sense of injustice.

Thanks to Derby for the point, and for making us feel like we’ve taken all three.

Ratings in brief:

Camp – 9

Perch – 7

Morgan – 8

Breckin – 7

Lynch – 5

Anderson – 7

McGugan – 7 –

Fletcher – 7

McCleary – 7

Earnshaw – 7

Garner – 8

Subs:

Chambers – 6

Tyson – 6

Thornhill – 6